Gratitude & Generosity in an Infinite Loop

On our cultural calendar we have a day of giving thanks, feeling gratitude, followed by a season of giving and being generous. It strikes me how natural the flow is in this arrangement. When we feel grateful and count our blessings, high among them is usually the people we love – our family and friends. The upwelling of that sense of gratitude quite naturally turns into a desire to express that gratitude to them in the form of generosity. Because we care about them we want to do what we can to give them joy. Voila! Tis the season of giving! We are also thankful for our health, safety, the roof over our heads, and the food on our table. So it’s no surprise that what follows is a desire for others to be housed, fed, healthy and free from harm. So it’s not surprising that  we are much more likely to give and to volunteer during the season that follows. Clearly gratitude should come with a warning label! ‘Caution: May cause a tender heart.’

But what if we are not feeling grateful? This is also a season of feeling overwhelmed, stressed, exhausted and put upon. Traditions put us in a choke hold, making us do things we just don’t feel up for. Christmas again? Are you kidding me?

And some of us are dealing with loss -- of health, a loved one, abilities, freedoms, hope -- and it’s challenging to feel anything but the suffering we are experiencing.

Oddly, that’s when a deeper sense of gratitude, one that  has nothing do do with what we have, is actually easier to find. When our lives are in a turmoil we tend to hunker down. If we don’t get lost in distractions or addictions, we can sense into this present moment as a refuge from all the trials and tribulations we have been experiencing and all the worry of what is to come. This moment fully experienced can be a sweet haven.

One student in class this week said that before she falls asleep at night she thinks of three things she is grateful for. Lovely! But if she has had a really rough day and it’s too hard to come up with anything, she is grateful for the softness of her mattress. Fabulous! In that moment she is fully present, anchored in physical sensation. That is exactly where we need to be in any given moment to go deeply into the joy of being present with what is.

(For more about this deep kind of gratitude, check out this post from 2009, titled ‘Gratitude for Everything”.)

Here is a poem that captures what we’re talking about:

Tumbling down the cliff,

I couldn’t help but notice

the cherry blossoms.

--  KuKu Kichigai,
18th century Japanese poet

In a sense, we are all tumbling down the cliff. We are all living temporal lives with a knowledge of the ending -- not the when or the how necessarily, but we all share the same fate. This is a simple truth that we tend to avoid most of the time. And yet we are naturally attracted to temporal things in our experience. Our eyes are drawn to the new, to the thing that is moving, to the things that are fleeting, like cherry blossoms.

Noticing the fleeting nature of life causes us to pay attention and be grateful. We may also go into states of fear, disappointment, longing. We may ask why can’t it stay like this? Without pondering too deeply, we find we wish for extensions on pleasurable moments. But a delicious meal if we eat too much becomes painful. A great party if we stay too long becomes tiresome. It is the fleeting nature of what delights our senses that makes them so delightful and makes us so grateful. So openly accepting the temporal nature of life helps us to receive it with grace and gratitude.

When we are struggling in our lives and gratitude is hard to come by, another door to find gratitude is to do an act of generosity. I am sure you have had the experience of doing something for someone and feeling lifted up by it, more alive and grateful.

So gratitude leads to generosity, and generosity leads to gratitude in an infinite loop. Wherever we are in any moment we can find one or the other. And the way to both is through being fully present in this moment and compassionate with ourselves and others.

Please Don't Call It 'Turkey Day'!

In class this week, we discussed what deep gratitude means to us. I suggested that it is a ballast in our being. The way a sailboat has ballast that keeps it from turning over though it leans in the wind, when we are deeply grateful for this present moment, whatever is occurring, rather than being only grateful for the blessings we can list, then we stay afloat in the sea of life.

Here is a collection of past posts on gratitude to draw from if you are needing inspiration.

Meanwhile, let's talk turkey. Or, let's not! We are so fortunate that our national holiday is focused on something so deeply satisfying as contemplating gratitude, whether it is deep gratitude for being alive or for the wonderful blessings and people we have or have had in our lives.

When we switch the focus to the food we put on the table and think of it as just feast and football, it's such a downgrade of the holiday. It also leaves out vegans and vegetarians, making them feel as if they are not experiencing the real deal. In fact, one of the most delicious Thanksgiving feasts I ever ate was while on retreat at Spirit Rock Meditation Center a few years back. It was a vegetarian's delight of seasonal delicacies, and not a turkey in sight. (Really! Not even outdoors where wild turkeys abound except for that week before Thanksgiving where they suddenly just go into hiding. The day after Thanksgiving they return! Public opinion to the contrary, apparently turkeys aren't all that stupid.) Being on retreat, we were all in silence. Teja Bell played music for us as we entered the dining hall, and the meal was served by Spirit Rock teachers and their families. How dear to be dished up squash by Jack Kornfield, and how especially touching it was to have Skye, the young son of teacher and author Anne Cushman, dole out a roll. I hadn't seen him since he was an infant teaching our class how to do a proper up-dog pose in Friday AM meditation and yoga class.

Whether you eat turkey or not, why not give the meaning of the day its due? If you eat turkey, you might try to choose one that had the chance for a good life. If you don't eat turkey, thanks, but try not to be too self-righteous. Plants are also sensate beings that we eat to survive. But in all cases, let's take some time to acknowledge with gratitude the bounty before us, the beauty around us and the life-buddies beside us, no matter how flawed we may consider them to be.

Not feeling so grateful? That's okay too. Just focus on the myriad of physical sensations of being here in this moment. Notice that mound of woes and worries as something that's just a part of your experience, not the whole thing. Just for now. You are alive and life is full of options, even in this very moment. Gratitude for even the littlest thing can open a world of joy.

What Can We Learn From Water?

On a rare rainy day in these parts these days, we do a meditation on water. Coming in from the moist air we settle in to notice the dampness of our eyes, mouth and palms, as well as the fluids that flow within us.

The human body is 67% water, but how often do we ponder that as we go through our day, feeling very solid, not fluid at all? The Buddha taught this meditation in the First Foundation of Mindfulness. Why?

Love Falls, Pacific Crest Trail,
watercolor by Will Noble

We tend to think of our skin as a barrier that demarcates the edge of who we believe ourselves to be. But this simple exercise of a water meditation allows us to understand the truth: Skin is permeable with millions of pores. We drink water, we pass water, we sweat (Okay, ‘glow’). We are an intrinsic part of the cycle of water and its interaction with other elements. Water evaporates on our skin just as it does on the ocean and the earth. All the water that evaporates become mist, fog and clouds that eventually returns to earth in the form of rain or snow, and then it flows in streams and rivers -- not unlike the ‘streams’ and ‘rivers’ within us that carry our blood and other bodily fluids -- to replenish the lakes and oceans of this watery blue planet.

The composition of seawater is the same as the composition of tears. Hmmm. Water within, water without. Truly there are no barriers, no borders. How does this affect how we relate to the world and to ourselves?

The Buddha encouraged his students to learn from contemplating the elements. What can we learn from noticing the nature of water?

One thing we might notice is that water carries whatever it is given. All boats float on the water, regardless of size, purpose or beauty. Can we learn from water to hold the world in this way, to hold whatever arises in our experience with a buoyancy of compassion?

There is a wonderful phrase that comes to mind that was so important to me when I found myself to be most particularly unacceptable, uniquely unqualified to inhabit this earth:

The ocean refuses no river.

The ocean refuses no river. If this phrase strikes a chord within you, say it over and over again until it sinks in that you are a natural expression of life and a valuable part of this community of beings. The ocean refuses no river.

I'll end with a couple of poems of mine on the theme of our watery nature.

Listening to the Rain Meditation

I am cloud scudding gently floating free

Sky sponge absorbing rising mists

darkening deepening steely blue releasing…

I am rain dancing in the dust

hammering rooftops playing moist music

seaping into earth quenching dry roots

quivering dull leaves shining forests…

I am stream bounding forth

polishing rocks cavorting fish

transporting twigs, leaves, water skates…

I am waterfall in rapid descent

plunging down rock face, dissembling into pattern

pounding on pond drum, roaring through canyon…

I am lake, cupped in earth chalice

cool still reflecting tree cloud sky…

I am mighty river flowing gently

rushing rapids carving stone channel

rising, seeping, bursting levees

stretching flat fingers across flood plains…

I am tidal inlet

ebbing, flowing, receding

salty flood revealing silty marsh…

I am ocean, vast, replete, world within world,

Pounding waves, drawing boundaries

pulling tides, undertow…

I am deep spring, bubbling font of life

lacy network of unseen channels…

I am tear, swelling, cheekrolling,

burning salt hard sobbing deep cleansing letting go,

making room for laughter…

I am water.

Stephanie Noble
Wet January 1993

Creek Bed Meditation

Friday mornings at Spirit Rock, I walk the land.

I have chaperoned butterflies dancing,

sat with water skates playing in ponds,

listened to the earth symphony of birds, frogs, crickets

and water trickling in the creek.

Each week I note the subtle shifting of the seasons

as they seed, grow, ripen and fade before my eyes.

Winter-dampened fog-shrouded hills,

tree bark and boulders gilded with emerald moss,

bounding water gushing forth -- all give way:

wet to dry, green to yellow, cold to hot.

Now in mid-summer, the morning air is dry and still,

the hills are golden, the frogs are quiet.

I enter the dappled shelter of a laurel grove,

and descend into the rocky creek bed.

Its deep banks rise around me,

swallowing me whole.

Night chill held in the rocks

along with the vague memory of water

rises to cool my skin.

Beneath my feet leaves crunch and crackle

in the hush of morning.

The shaggy yellowed tree moss

hangs loose and dusty.

Gnarled roots dangle over the dry creek, searching.

I duck under fallen logs

following the cavernous twists and turns

the underpinnings that shape

winter's waterfalls and spring's deep pools.

Not even a puddle remains.

It seems I am the only water here.

The air tingles with a dowsing awareness

of my wet presence in the midst of dry longing.

I feel the flow of myself as I move downstream.

Stephanie Noble

Summer 1997

Are You Living Your Life at Someone Else’s Pace?

My husband and I recently went on a tour of Morocco, and over the coming weeks I’m sure that experience will work its way into my dharma talks, as it has already done in my poetry. But the first thing I notice coming off such a structured experience is what a relief to be back on my own schedule, living at what feels like a more natural pace. It makes me realize how fortunate I am to live at my own pace most of the time when so many of us live our lives to some degree at a pace someone else has set. The younger we are, the more likely that is to be true. We are rudely awoken out of a delightful dream in the cold dark of morning and made to go off to school where we may end up watching the wall clock, just waiting for it to be over.

The majority of adults wake up at a time that will get us to work when our employers require us to be there. We eat lunch at the time we’re allotted, whether we are hungry or not, and no matter how we are feeling throughout the day, we hang in there until quitting time. Because that is the way life is. And generally we adapt to it reasonably well, although some part of us is longing for the weekend or daydreaming about our upcoming vacation. Oh yes, I remember it well. But age has its benefits. Most of my students are retired now, and even those that aren’t have the luxury of setting their own schedules to a much greater degree than when they were younger. Even so, are we truly living our lives at our own pace? If not, why not? Why does it matter? And finally, what could we do to become more attuned to the natural pace of our body-mind? On a tour, this living at someone else’s pace is a short-term sacrifice, one we make willingly in exchange for unique experiences we would not have had otherwise. My husband and I would never have traveled all over Morocco on our own, or had access to the interiors of private homes and one on one conversations with the locals over mint tea and tagine. Getting our luggage out in front of our hotel room door at a too-early hour is just part of the deal. At home we choose to live one day a week at the pace set by our son and daughter-in-law’s employers as we take care of our granddaughters, who are the delight of our lives. Worth every exhausting minute! Thank goodness they still take afternoon naps, as do we when we’re with them. What are some choices you make to extend yourself beyond your natural inclination because it is worth it to you? By recognizing the value we receive, we can become more conscious, more grateful and less resentful of any sacrifice. At the same time, we can look a little closer and question whether the sacrifice to our own pace is actually required here. Maybe that meeting could be rescheduled. Maybe we don’t have to take the first appointment the doctor’s office suggests. Maybe we can limit ourselves to one or two commitments a day rather than packing our calendar. How often do we sacrifice our natural pace and inner body clock needlessly? Can we make it a more conscious choice? I used to teach meditation at four o’clock in the afternoon. What was I thinking? That’s the time of day when my body clock has wound down to its lowest point.  As a child if I were ill, that’s when my fever would spike. So what was I doing trying to formulate a dharma talk or lead a discussion when I knew I would be at my lowest ebb? It didn’t make sense. For other reasons I needed to change the day and time of our meeting. I lost some students in the process, which made me sad. But others were now able to attend at the new time of 10 AM, when I am awake, alert and energized. I’ve learned to try to not schedule anything in the late afternoon, and give myself permission to watch my favorite DIY or cooking show if I feel like it. Domestic transformation or culinary finesse soothe me when I’m just not up for anything else. Sure I could meditate again, and that would probably be wise, but hey. We all find our own ways and that’s one of mine. Are you regularly taking on some activity at the wrong time of day for you? If so, is there another option? This is a valuable investigation. One student loves her exercise class but getting to it requires waking much earlier than she otherwise would two days a week. Only she can know if there is something about that particular class that makes it worth the sacrifice. And maybe there is some value in creating some flexibility in our schedule. Who knows? Again, we just want to be conscious of what we are doing and how we are making our choices. One student had an aha moment when she realized that whenever she finds herself tired during the day she gives herself a good talking to about the importance of soldiering on. She suddenly sees that this is hardly compassionate. Another student said she takes a 20 minute nap every day at three in the afternoon. Little things like that can make a huge difference if it’s what the body needs at that time. Noticing what the body needs is a skillful way to stay present, sensing in. It counteracts our nature to be overly habitual, eating when we’re not hungry, resting when we’re not tired, just because the clock tells us it’s time. Developing good habits is important, lest we forget to brush our teeth, etc., but going unconscious is not skillful. So brush those teeth but really be present for the experience of the gums being stimulated! We often have a hard time being compassionate with ourselves. It might help to realize that we do no service to others when we push beyond our body-mind’s ability to function. If we drive when we’re tired, for example, it’s not just ourselves that we are putting in harm’s way. Let’s remember that our actions have ripple effects and pushing ourselves to the point of mindlessness is unkind and sometimes dangerous to everyone in our community because that is when accidents happen. It’s also important to be aware of  what we are going through. Part of these ‘golden years’ we are in is learning to live with loss: the loss of loved ones, the loss of health, the loss of access or abilities. Loss takes us on journeys we need to be present and compassionate to traverse. Can we learn to sense into what the body-mind needs right now? Even though perhaps we have always been able to get a lot done in a short time, right now, in this state, can we let go of our rigid expectations, our striving and our longing for accomplishment? Can we let go of comparing ourselves to the 20 year old we once were? How fully can we allow ourselves to experience our lives as they are now without constantly dragging up the past or dreading the future? If this ‘soldiering on’ in spite of what your body-mind needs sounds familiar, there are lots of valuable questions you can ask yourself. You might explore the roots of this whip-cracking aspect of self. Perhaps its just a part of the cultural norms we live with, but perhaps there is something in your personal history, some voice from the past telling you not to be lazy, for example. This word ‘lazy’ is an interesting one. It takes us into the Buddhist  Five Hindrances that include sloth and torpor. But remember that restlessness is a Hindrances too.  And all of the Hindrances arise out of a misunderstanding of the nature of being. When we are truly present and compassionate, we do not lounge our life away. We are naturally active at a sustainable pace. We enjoy using the full range of our energy in ways that express our aliveness, even if that range is less than it once was. We do this without pushing, cracking a whip or nagging ourselves. If we really notice and are very honest with ourselves, we can tell when we are resting because our body-mind truly needs to rest, and when we are vegging out because we are bored, depressed or frustrated. If the latter, then that’s an opportunity to question in. As we take up the regular practice of meditation, we naturally begin to create a spaciousness of mind that allows us to see more clearly what is really going on here. The tight knots of previously unexamined patterns of thought and activity are now visible. We can see them from more angles as they become disentangled, disengaged and potentially released. We can view them with compassion. We can let go of the stranglehold of claiming them as our identity. When we think of living life at our own pace, we might be afraid that we will fall out of step with the rest of the world. But in fact there is a lot more room in life, and especially in retirement, for living with greater ease. Old patterns can be noticed and released when they don’t serve us. An important question to ask ourselves is ‘how am I in relationship with...’ whatever is coming up in our awareness. Am I being present, compassionate and responsive? Or am I judging, making assumptions on automatic pilot and being hyper-reactive? Such an inner exploration can help us to live more honestly, compassionately and vibrantly. If any of this rings bells, as you go through your day, see who is calling the shots, who is setting the pace in your life. Sense into the body. Notice the present energy level and ability. If you find yourself rushing, slow down. Notice the adrenaline and the mindlessness of hurry. Pause to notice at least two senses -- the sounds around you, the feel of air on your skin, perhaps. When you have a chance, decide where you might create ease next time this happens. If you procrastinate so that you feel rushed at the last minute, where did that pattern come from? What thoughts are going through your head as you resist getting started earlier. Are you not wanting to do this thing? Is it necessary to do it? There’s lots of room for self-exploration and discovery here. Start noticing, savoring, being fully alive. See to what degree you can live life at your own pace.

Is Somebody Pushing Your Buttons?

Years ago I began to notice a mental pattern of getting annoyed and aggravated by women who were powerful. No matter how nice they were, something about them pushed my buttons. It wasn't until after I started meditating regularly and began to notice the recurring pattern that I could see that these women were openly expressing what I was actively and covertly repressing in myself. I was stuffing my power so I resented them for ‘flaunting’ theirs.

This was a big discovery for me, the kind of discovery that happens quite naturally with the regular practice of insight meditation. Once I saw the pattern I was then able to see through it to the deep fear of allowing my own power to be expressed. (‘If I express my power, will I become an intolerable diva, unlikable by anyone I care about? Isn't it much safer to stuff it?’ Good grief! Who needs external limits when I can so effectively dis-empower myself?)

This dislike of people who express what we’re repressing is an example of psychological projection. Does it ring any bells for you? Is there a certain personality trait that really pushes your buttons, causing a visceral negative reaction that activates judgments and fears that are out of proportion to the situation at hand.

Many of us have particular people in our lives who have the power to upset us. But the key to these relationships is the power they have over us, causing us to feel threatened. For example, we may have strong negative feelings about a sitting president, but once he is no longer in office our antipathy dissipates considerably. They are no longer perceived as a threat.

Likewise there may be a family member who we perceive as having power over us, even if it is not a physical power but the ability to break our hearts.

When someone is pushing our buttons but they don’t have any power over us, then it is something else. If this brings someone to mind, ask yourself:  Is it some particular trait that annoys or upsets you? Is it something that brings up a lot of emotional energy and tension in the body? Do you find there are a number of people with these same traits that activate this energy? If so, this is probably a case of projection.

Next time you feel your buttons pushed, take the opportunity to investigate. What is it that bothers you so much? Listen to the judgments you are making, the opinions so strongly stated in your mind. These are rich clues to let you know what aspect of yourself is being stuffed down, imprisoned deep within, rattling the bars and yelling for help.

Anytime we are doing an inner investigation, it is always beneficial to sense in to whatever physical sensations arise with the thoughts and emotions present. With the thoughts we may get caught up in a dense and circular story, or we go off on tangents that take us away from the heart of the investigation. If we focus on the felt sense of the experience, and breathe into the area that is tight or achy with compassion, we become more open in our thoughts and emotions as well.

I am happy to say that today I admire powerful women and enjoy their company. I accept leadership positions myself as a natural part of maturing. I make a point of learning how to be skillful with power, to be compassionate and generous, to listen, to collaborate and to bring all of who I am to whatever I do. And if someone finds being around me pushes their buttons, may they investigate the true cause. It ain't me, babe!

Accessing the Wiser Self

I am reading the book Bouncing Back, Rewiring your Brain for Maximum Resilience and Well-Being by Linda Graham, MFT, a therapist and meditation teacher. She is a colleague of Rick Hanson, author of Buddha’s Brain and Hardwiring Happiness. Both of them explain how meditation practice makes changes in the way the brain functions, creating a greater capacity to experience ease, clarity and joy. I highly recommend their books, especially for those who find scientific facts more comfortable than spirituality.

In Buddha’s Brain, Rick introduced to the general public all the newest neurological information about how our brains function. He writes so clearly that it made it possible for a non-science-minded person like me to grasp at least some of what he was saying, but it was all very new and challenging.

Linda’s Bouncing Back is an easier read for me. Her explanations of the science are equally clear but I am more ready to absorb it, having been prepped by previous reading and teachings. But brain physiology is only a part of her focus in this book. She offers many stories, drawn from her own life and her patients’ experiences, and she provides all kinds of exercises as well.

I was surprised to see that one of these exercises was to cultivate a relationship with our Wiser Self. Her recommendation of how to come into contact with that wiser self was just like the meditation practice I was taught many years ago, in which I came into contact with a woman wearing white silk pajamas dancing in a bubble of light, looking so radiant and joyful that I definitely wanted what she was having!

My book Tapping the Wisdom Within, A Guide to Joyous Living , published in 1994, is a record of my conversations with that wiser self who helped me recover from a debilitating illness and awaken to the joy of being present in every moment.

Over the past two decades of study, practice and teaching of Buddhism, that earlier experience and the book have been somewhat sidelined by me.

On a recent silent retreat at Spirit Rock Meditation Center I had a strong insight -- reinforced by the woven quality of the golden grassy California hills -- that it is important to weave all of who I am into the fabric of my being. Since then I have noticed when some part of who I am has been shunned or hidden, and when that happens I see what I can do to weave it back into my present life. For example, I noticed, for example, that on my LinkedIn education profile, I had somehow forgotten to include the year I spent at Temple University. I added it in with a story about my experience:

First semester had a graduate school boyfriend whose idea of a great date was an evening at the library. Got lots of A's. But wanted time out from school. Mom said 'No, honey, you're doing so well, hang in there.' Second semester was my first East Coast spring spent lolling around on campus with friends and attending their classes if they sounded more interesting than mine. I got all F's and an A in modern dance. Mom looked at my report card and said, 'Wow, you sure showed me.' Oops. It wasn't going on HER permanent record, now was it? I grew up a bit in that moment.

Telling that story leaves me feeling a bit lighter. By weaving in the truth of a past situation, I can let go of all the tightness it takes to keep it hidden. I now really understand that when we don’t acknowledge parts of ourselves, we carry the burden of the negative feelings we have about them. Those feelings block the light of joy that is possible in any moment.

While I can’t say that my book and my experience were hidden, as they appear prominently on my websites, in fact I rarely discuss them. I know they are from the same infinite wisdom source of Buddhism, but I didn't want to confuse my students by bringing in non-Buddha-based material (even though Sylvia Boorstein did call my book 'jargon-free dharma' after reading it many years ago when I was in her class.)

So having somewhat sidelined my dear Wiser Self and the book that came out of those inner conversations, what a treat it was for me to come upon Linda Graham's suggestion to do the very kind of meditation exercise I was doing when I first met my wiser self, dancing in a bubble of light, radiant with joy.

In class the students wanted to try opening to that inner wisdom, so I guided them in a brief meditation like the one I was taught so many years ago at College of Marin. Here it is:

EXERCISE

Imagine yourself in a natural setting where you feel safe and relaxed. Rest there as long as you like, open to the sights, sounds, smells and textures of this imaginary place.

If at any time a person or animal enters into your space, ask ‘What information do you have for me?’ Then open to the answer.

By relaxing the mind, opening to all of what is possible in our experience, not just the tight patterns of every-day thinking, we have access to the answers we need in that moment.

The students liked this exercise. One said she didn't want it to stop. So why don’t we do this kind of meditation all the time? Well, we certainly could. But let’s discuss the differences between meditation where we simply practice staying present, anchored in physical sensation, and this kind of imagination relaxation-exploration meditation.

What we are doing in the first is training the muscle of mind to find the here and now even more interesting than the past and future, and more fruitful, because the here and now is the only place we can actually do something about anything. We are learning how to be in relationship with whatever causes and conditions arise. We can greet whatever arises with compassion when we create enough space to receive it.

The imagination exercise is valuable for self-exploration and calming the mind. But what are we saying about the present moment if we always rush off to our ‘happy place’ when the going gets difficult? We are saying that we are not able to cope with being present, that when we are uncomfortable with what is going on we need an escape hatch. This makes an enemy out of causes and conditions of our lives, which in turn sets us up to be in battle mode. How can we find joy and equanimity when we are labeling parts of our experience unacceptable?

Now that I think about it, this is similar to the ‘weave all of who you are in the fabric of your experience’ message. When we can allow all of what is happening to be present in our experience, not turning away, not hiding from it, not pushing or stuffing down some parts of it, then we are practicing a skillful compassionate spaciousness that can hold it all, whatever it is.

Of course, sometimes the present moment is challenging or uncomfortable. We can think of a thousand things we'd rather be doing or thinking about. But when we open to all that is going on, we see that the discomfort is never all that is going on, is it? In any given moment there may be pain but there is also something neutral and probably something pleasurable. We are not avoiding one and promoting the other. Instead we are saying, for example, ‘My knee hurts AND the sky is blue.’ ‘Anger is present in my experience. I feel it in my jaw (or fist or chest) AND, at the very same time, I notice that my thigh feels neutral.’ This person is being obnoxious AND I feel healthy. Notice that we use the conjunction 'and' instead of 'but.' We are not replacing one experience with another. We are simply opening our aperture a little wider to take in all of what is going on in this moment.

In this way, we are able to see things in perspective and create a sense of equanimity, where we can balance all the causes and conditions of our lives. And by being present we can see what if anything needs to be done, something impossible to do if we are off in our place of escape.

Both these kinds of meditation practices have their uses. As an occasional exercise or an intense inner-exploration, accessing the Wiser Self and asking for answers is a valuable technique. Give it a try!

You don't have to walk a tightrope

After a summer hiatus, our meditation class happily regrouped this week.

Since we last met, much has happened in our lives and in the world. We looked at how we relate to all that arises in our experience, whether in our personal lives or in the news.

How do you handle what arises in your experience?

Do you see yourself walking on a tightrope over a deep chasm while you try to balance too many plates?

Perhaps you have developed some coping skills that help you deal with whatever arises. Pause to consider how you handle sudden difficult situations in your life, ongoing conditions and unsettling news. Are they effective in helping you to find equanimity?

EXERCISE

Is there some situation or condition that is currently causing you concern? If so, tell yourself the story about it, get caught up in it enough so that it is active in your mind.

Now pause.  Notice any place in your body where you feel a new sensation, perhaps tension, tightness or achiness.

If you find tension anywhere, put your hand there. (If your hands are cold, rub them together first.)

Breathe into the area with tenderness and compassion. With each inhale imagine healing energy creating spaciousness. With each exhale imagine releasing the tightness and  discomfort. Just this simple activity can help to create more ease in the body and mind. You can spend as much time as feels useful, and you can do this on as many areas as needed.


Through this exercise we become more aware of how the body holds our stories, and how much more effective it can be to work with the body than to stay only with the story, telling and retelling it to ourselves, hoping to come to some different ending.

This is not to say that talking is useless. If we are really paying attention, saying the words out loud or writing them down can make us aware of what we are thinking so that we can question our assumptions and see the holes in our reasoning. But chances are we are thinking this same story over and over again without paying attention, and every time we tell it, the body re-lives the experience and tightens up. This is toxic for our health and well-being. Working directly with the body starts a healing that releases us from the story that has us enthralled. So consider incorporating this exercise into your daily life, especially when you feel overwhelmed.

It is so easy to feel overwhelmed, isn't it? The to-do list, the demands from others, the hectic nature of rushing about to take care of business. Even when our time is our own and no one else is dependent on us, we can get caught up in such a flurry of activity that we feel overwhelmed. We wonder why on earth we do that to ourselves.

We can get into the habit of wishing this moment away in favor of one that seems potentially more easeful conducive to joy. But when we are caught up in that pattern of thinking, we discover when we arrive at that future moment, we are still wishing for more or wishing for different, wishing this new moment away, just like the last.

We are creatures of habit. We create patterns. Some of the patterns we create cause us to suffer, such as this longing for something different than what is, the ‘if only’ pattern, as in ‘If only this situation were resolved I could relax and enjoy life.’

Sound familiar? If so, notice if you fall into another very human pattern of thinking that this pattern you've noticed is one more flaw in your make-up, one more thing to work on, one more chore on your to-do list. Aagh!

Let’s remember that because we are creatures of habit who create patterns, we can create patterns of ease and joy too. The regular practice of meditation and other ways that we nurture ourselves are just such joyful patterns. The beauty of this particular pattern is the way it has of revealing and releasing many of the patterns that cause our suffering.

That’s why we take time to sit in stillness, the way we might sit at the edge of a pond. Within seconds we are seeing things we hadn't noticed were there: a water skate, reflections, a perfect web spun in the branch overhead, the sound of birds, the feel of the air on our skin. Just so in meditation we simply sit and notice, and in the stillness of our intention to be present, the mental patterns reveal themselves. We might see the very leap our mind makes based on erroneous previously-unquestioned assumptions.

We reset the intention to be present, relaxed but alert, anchored in physical sensation, and we set the intention to be compassionate with ourselves and with others. If we get caught up in thinking about a situation or a person, when we realize we are thinking, we simply send loving-kindness to the situation, to the person and to ourselves, and bring our attention back to the breath, or the light on our eyelids, or the sounds in the room, or the feel of the earth under our feet if we are walking. This is the practice.

This simple gift of a practice enables us to hold whatever arises in our experience in a more spacious way so we are not sucked into the inner storm. The storm is more of a little tempest in a teapot that we find curious, interesting, perhaps amusing, and instructive. We are able to be mindful, to see how we, being human, create many of these tornados through the very patterns of mind that we hope will save us.

Instead of walking a tightrope trying to balance too many plates, we can sense the support of the earth and our interconnection to all life, that we are not alone. The weight of the world is not our singular burden to carry.

No matter what life is throwing at you, you have a standing invitation to pause, to sit, to walk in nature, to give yourself the gift of attention and compassion. This is the great gift of equanimity.