FALL BEGINNINGS

Sometimes the summer overwhelms our practice with family gatherings and travel. Even if it doesn’t, there can come times when the practice feels like work - stale and heavy. It can feel discouraging to go to the cushion, to sit down to practice - as if we have to go through everything we went through to establish our practice before it fell away with the demands of family, social occasions, summer vacation…. or crises, emergencies, disruption.

There can be any number of reasons our practice time succumbs to the demands of our “off-the-cushion” life.

But like everything else in life, our practice too is cyclical, has seasons, waxes and wanes. Sometimes when we “resume” our practice or start over, we find we have to go back to the beginning, back to basics, back to breath awareness, just sitting for 15-20 minutes and working up to longer periods and more varied practices.

This is actually great practice.

Because as we start over, we may notice we are not starting over from the same place. We may step into the same stream, but the banks have eroded, the ripples have moved as the bottom sands shifted, the water is different.

And so are we.

So this is a wonderful opportunity to practice where we are now - with the conditions that exist now - in the stream that is flowing now. Our practice might be like the Guggenheim spiraling upward with new and different art work on display, or perhaps it’s like the ever-widening circles in a pond when a pebble is tossed in, or the looping patterns of the hawks or eagles riding the thermals along a mountain ridge.

This starting over is a natural part of practice. On a minute by minute level. On a day by day level. On a seasonal level. In the wider spans of our lifetimes.

Practice evolves, changes, becomes more hidden and then more apparent again. And often, whether we are sitting or not, our practice is going with us into our worlds, informing our actions, helping us notice when we’ve become crabby or unskillful, supporting us when we bring wisdom to the forefront.

So come, let’s begin again together. Exploring what’s present for us now. Noticing similarities and discovering differences. We’ve all learned and grown this past year plus of Covid.

Much of it may seem dark and disturbing but there are wondrous silver linings to notice in our own growth, in our own ability to relate to the ever-changing world we find ourselves in.


The Generations Speak

Many of us get caught in patterns of self-criticism and harsh judgements about ourselves - from our physical appearance to our careless words to our anxious thoughts. We didn’t choose or create any of this.

With investigation, we realize how many of our parents' habit patterns they passed on to us - anxieties, compulsions to lock and re-lock doors, ability to tell good stories, generosity, tendencies toward substance abuse…. the whole mess or as Jon Kabat-Zinn says, the full catastrophe. And then we begin to see they were as affected by their parents as we are by them. And so on and so on.

Maladaptive patterns are often passed down to us in some form or other. Indigenous psychotherapy has the concept that these patterns assured resilience and survival of the next generation and that they contain valuable information for us. This view allows us to look at our patterns and thank our ancestors for doing everything they could to survive and to make sure we survived. It also allows us to hold our perceived flaws more lightly as we were not in control when they were handed down to us. And it is our work - as it was theirs - to sort the useful patterns from the not-so-useful patterns. Awareness and open hearted investigation are our most powerful allies in this work.


When we begin to free ourselves from the difficult patterns left over from survival trauma in previous generations, we discover that the lightness of the human spirit is already present - waiting to be uncovered, waiting to be free of wrong views in order to shine forth.

The Stillness of the Mountain

This mountain - Mt. Kalish in Tibet - is sacred in four different religious traditions.

Can you sense why?  

Can you imagine living in its lowlands and valleys?
Viewing it every morning and every evening?
The stillness? The stability? Its massiveness and soaring heights?

No matter the season, the weather, the time of day? 
Illuminated by the sun by day and the moon by night? 
Obscured by clouds and fog?  Rain and storms? 
Blizzards and howling winds? 

And always….reappearing when the weather clears? 

How do we take our seat in these unsettling times? 
Or find our seat, if we have lost it?  
How do we embrace the truths that sustain us?  
And hold the suffering we are witnessing? 
How do we care for ourselves and our families
when fear threatens to engulf us? 

The call of the mountain is a reminder of the stillness within.
Stability we can touch when we drop into awareness
of this very moment.
In this very moment.

No matter the tumult in the lives around it, 
the mountain remains - 
planted and floating at the same time, 
ageless and ephemeral, 
alluring and implacable.

Reminding us that stillness is available at any moment.

I can't meditate. My mind is too busy...

“My mind is too wild,” people often say to me, “I can’t stop thinking.” 

Mindfulness is not about stopping our thoughts, nor is it about blissing out.  It’s waking up to what our experience actually is – noticing what the thoughts are that we can’t stop, noticing how our body feels sitting in a chair, noticing if we’re hungry or just anxious when we eat chocolate.  Are our thoughts critical – of ourselves or others?  Notice that.  Are they sad in remembrance?  Notice that.  Are they fearful about a future that isn’t here?  Notice that.  We might begin to see that these are just thoughts – not some oracle from above and not something we manufactured and pushed out.  Thoughts happen.  Feelings happen.  Bodily sensations happen.

 Can we just be aware of that?  Can we meet whatever is happening with awareness? 

 That’s mindfulness.

Recently I’ve been experiencing this new phenomenon called “Zoom Fatigue.” After an hour of being face to face with a few people or a group, paying attention to the computer screen full of faces - I call it “being impaled by the computer screen” - to discern expressions, understand what is being said, translate around frame freezes, wonky sound distortions, delays while people find their mute buttons, delays while I find the mute button, I find myself getting agitated. I need to get up, walk around, go outside, not look at the screen, check in with myself, go lie down, go meditate, …… anything but look at this screen one more minute, but the speaker is not finished and there is more to be said and …and…and…

And the challenge is this: can we be mindful of this phenomenon - as it is happening - in this moment. When it arises, what are our thoughts, our feelings, our bodily sensations? Where do we experience it in the body? There is much to learn about this explosion of zoom communication. It’s relatively new in our human experience. Is it the blue screen effect? Is it the lags and delays not present in normal face to face conversation? Is it the sense that we are being watched all the time? Ever try to eat something and then watch yourself chewing on the screen in full view of 20 other people?

And can we choose a different response? Some options include the following: Take the time to look down, look around, see the zoom screen in the context of your home surroundings, perhaps look at notes if that’s appropriate, but look away and check in with yourself. What’s happening here - internally? What are my thoughts? What feelings are arising? What and where am I experiencing this in my body?

Zoom may be the new phenomenon of this era. But mindfulness is as old as the hills (well, almost) and stronger than dirt! It’s been around, been proven, and exists as the gift all of our ancestors gave to us. Or perhaps mindfulness is beyond ancestry. It is a distinctly human birth right. As messy as it is to be a human being - and don’t we all know how messy that is - mindfulness is there like the north star is a guide to night travelers, the exact right ability to help us navigate these times, whatever they may throw at us - even zoom fatigue.

Life Interrupted...

April 22nd Earth Day

It was barely five and a half weeks ago I offered the All Day for the last cycle of MBSR I taught.  We met in person - observing social distancing, wiping off door knobs, and washing our hands frequently. 

 The world shut down the next week.  We finished the cycle on-line.

 The rising tide of suffering has been difficult to witness for all of us.  And there have been many new things to learn – how to stay home for one, foregoing frequent trips shopping, to doctor appointments, to run errands.  Then there was learning to disinfect the house, the groceries, the mail, our cars and door knobs – and the packages that became our lifeline for supplies but also Trogan horses possibly bringing the deadly disease into our homes. 

 Many struggle with working at home while schooling their children. 

 But there have been unexpected benefits – blessings even.  Kitty O’Meara’s poem “And the people stayed home….” which I have referenced below speaks to some of these.  Many of the blessings have been interior ones - time alone, time within.  Others have been the widespread impulse of generosity, of offering – as people from all the 10 directions reach out to share their talents and knowledge and wisdom over the internet – exercise, yoga, meditation, short videos of wisdom, humor, mask-making instructions…concerts, theater, courses…

 I recently attended a meditation retreat – originally intended to be 8 days at a retreat center in California involving a cross-country flight with all the hassles of travel.  Instead it was 8 days at home, meditating with 88 other participants and 5 teachers in a virtual meditation hall while I sat on the floor of my living room.  The line between life on the cushion and life off the cushion suddenly began to fall away.  It was all life – rising to sit the early meditation, getting the mail, feeding the cat, preparing and eating breakfast, meditating, checking to see if family is OK, cleaning the bathroom, listening to a guided meditation, walking meditation outside, preparing and eating lunch, doing the dishes, meditating.  If someone I knew called, I’d answer the phone.  I checked emails mostly to erase and clear my inbox.  The television was silent.

 I recalled a story Joseph Goldstein tells of being in Bodh Gaya in India practicing with his teacher Munindra.  Joseph would be upstairs meditating and he would hear Munindra greeting visitors at the door and then hear him say, “Oh, you must come meet Joseph.”  Joseph would have to get up from his cushion, talk with the visitor for a while, and finally return to his meditation and start over. This went on for days.  Joseph was getting quite perturbed at these interruptions – after all, he was there to meditate.  But then, it was his beloved teacher….  And then he suddenly let go of that and realized it was no problem.  He would get up, greet the visitor, talk for a few minutes, and then go back to meditating. 

 That story became my guide.  The interruptions become interruptions only if we consider them interruptions.  If they just happen and then we go back to meditating or perhaps if we even stay mindful through the “interruption”, it’s no interruption.  It’s all practice.

 During this period, I have begun to see my life as practice – meditation practice, watching a video practice, email practice, exercise practice. 

 And outside, no planes fly.  The air is clear.  Daffodils riot and allergy season is in full swing. Pollution is down.  Only the mailman and the USP man driving by.  Parents outside playing with their kids every morning.  Parents playing with their kids????

 Something has been lost for sure.  Some sense of security about life.  Some predictability. 

 But something else that seemed so important only weeks before began to slip away.  I’m not even sure what it was.  Was it striving? 

 There is certainly fear and uncertainty.  That comes and goes and over the weeks shifts from an alive thing that gripped my stomach to a rising question – OK, for a few weeks, but really how long will this go on?  Is this then to become what my life is? 

 And is this so bad?  All just practice?

 I’ve been making masks.  In bright patterns.  With a filter pocket and wire to shape to the nose.  I want to support health care workers.  How can I help? 

 My family and friends turned out to need masks so I made them masks too.

 Because that’s what came up.  It’s just practice.

And the people stayed home.
And read books, and listened, and rested, and exercised,
and made art,
and played games, and learned new ways of being,
and were still. And listened more deeply.
Some meditated, some prayed, some danced.
Some met their shadows.
And the people began to think differently.

And the people healed.
And, in the absence of people living
in ignorant,
dangerous,
mindless,
and heartless ways,
the earth began to heal.

And when the danger passed,
and the people joined together again,
they grieved their losses,
and made new choices, and dreamed new images,
and created new ways to live and heal the earth fully,
as they had been healed.

~~ By Kitty O’Meara