Reflections on upcoming surgery tomorrow

Going more slowly
I could write the whole post on the gifts of having to learn to go more slowly. A few highlights:

• Hearing my slippers slide across the floor and realizing I am shuffling instead of walking
• Misplacing my shoes, phone, eyeglasses, keys, and wallet much less often
• My printing on crossword puzzles is so much clearer and less sloppy
• Flossing my teeth more slowly, actually feeling the floss up and down each side of each tooth!
• More walking and less biking--noticing the incredible beauty and lushness of the trees and bushes while sitting on a bench looking over the waterfall at Ashuelot Park
• When we were visiting our 4-year old grandchild, I had to find more activities that didn't require being so physically active. One day I did "This little Piggy went to market…" on her toes. She giggled and then said "do it again…backwards"! The next day she was doing her wooden Olivia puzzle, saying each letter as she put it in its place. I said "now spell your name backwards." She looked puzzled for a moment and then laughed, remembering the day before. With glee she said "I can spell my name backwards with my eyes closed.” She then named each letter as she picked it up: "A I V I L O." I was able to feel her intelligence, creativity, and playfulness as we explored new ways of being together.

Savoring more moments
Thoroughly enjoying a good meal out with my wife. For one of the few times in 36 years of marriage, we finished our meals at about the same time!

Making the many morning bird songs the focus of several minutes of my meditation.

Stopping to deeply take in a beautiful blooming flower. Here is a photo of a pansy that looked like Yosemite Sam from Looney Tunes. I laughed the rest of the way home. To see it press HERE.

Seeing nature’s many beauties in the walk along the river with different friends:
• Reflections of the sky, clouds, and trees on the water
• Noticing that the algae on a small pond look like an Impressionist painting; for years I have seen the algae as ugly
• Seeing a trail through the algae that was made by a swimming animal, a duck perhaps?
• Hearing the song of a wood thrush

Seeing more clearly
I feel that learning to go more slowly (both my body and mind) has enabled me to see more clearly, something the Buddha called sampajanna: clear knowing, seeing the whole picture.

Yesterday our Monday night meditation group was discussing an article on tough compassion. One example given was speaking up when someone makes a very mean-spirited remark and at the same time having compassion for the ignorance or inner hurt in that person that preceded the comment. One of the members pointed out that what we are being invited and challenged to do is a simultaneous holding of opposites.

This is what I was writing about last week when I spoke about accepting all my thoughts related to the upcoming surgery, both the "positive" and the "negative" thoughts.

This has come up when I feel irritated because my wife is hovering over me ("that's too heavy for you," "that's too much salt"). When I open my heart, I can feel the energy of fear in her also. If something happened, I would be gone, but she would still be here without her best friend. When I can hold both hold the irritation and the love, I respond with compassion.

May we all continue to grow in these and other ways.


The importance of accepting ALL thoughts

I have written before about how mindfulness practices have been so helpful during the past seven months since I suffered an aortic dissection on November 3. The 9 days in ICU, waiting for the delicate surgery in January, and the limitations on my activities since then, including chronic fatigue, all presented significant challenges--and opportunities.

So I thought I was doing fine when I went to Dartmouth on June 2 for a follow-up CT scan. While the surgeon had told us that a further surgery was possible, it was still so shocking to learn that an aneurysm was forming between two of the stents he had inserted in January. I was going to need a further surgery. It would be similar to the January surgery in that it would be laparoscopic and this time only one stent would be inserted. However, it would still be a delicate surgery, with risks.

On the ride home from Lebanon, I was reeling. As I brought mindfulness to my thoughts and emotions, I came to a deeper understanding of what mindfulness really is: it means to be aware of and accepting of ALL our thoughts, even the ones we don't like. During that ride, I realized that since November, I had really pushed aside internal voices like: Why me?, I hate this, this is not fair, I'm tired of this, I don't know if I can go on. I had dismissed those thoughts as not useful and instead focused on being positive and moving forward. On that day those thoughts would not be silenced.

So I tried something different, which initially did not feel like mindfulness at all. I opened what felt like Pandora's box and let these voices out of their cages. Rather than fight them and suppress them, I let them wash over me. At this point, my mindfulness practice was to take a step back and simply be a witness to that swirling energy of thoughts and emotions. The voices said they wanted a break, that they were tired of me trying to be strong all the time. They wanted junk food. They wanted to just watch TV and chill. They did not want to exercise and to meditate. After two days of eating a fair amount of candy and watching almost every sports event on TV, I woke up feeling good--ready to meditate, exercise, eat better. That lasted only a few hours and then back in the dump. A couple days later it felt like these parts of me had felt fully heard and were part of the family again, instead of being ostracized or banished.

When I reflected on this time, I realized that paying attention to these voices does not mean wallowing in self-pity. Rather it has made me more open to the natural feelings of grief, sadness, anger, and despair that are normal when facing a life-threatening illness. This illness has meant major changes in my life--not being able to do exercise vigorously, limitations on lifting objects, and fairly extreme fatigue. It also means that I am at greater risk of another dissection which could happen at any time without warning and kill me. It's like walking around with a bomb inside me that could go off at any time.

Mindfulness practice gives me choices in how I respond. When such thoughts and emotions do arise, I am now meeting all of them with a kind, caring attention, instead of fighting or hating them--most of the time! When I do this, I can see the whole picture, part of which I had been missing for months.

One of the common misconceptions about mindfulness is that it means stopping the thoughts that might be viewed as non-productive. A common instruction during mindfulness practice is "when you realize your mind has wandered, gently bring your attention back to the breath." Doing this simple practice can have a wonderful effect of calming one's mind which is wonderful.

However, when it is at the cost of pushing away or suppressing thoughts and/or feelings that are undesirable, there is a price we pay. Ultimately, mindfulness practice involves not just paying attention, but welcoming all those parts within us--with curiosity, compassion and acceptance. While there are many ways to practice mindfulness, ultimately the goal is to see what is happening more clearly. I have a renewed appreciation for how subtle and challenging this process can be.


Habit energy: What's not working

Today's essay starts with a wonderful story from Martin Seligman, one of the pioneers of positive psychology.

One day he was out weeding in his garden with his daughter, Nicki, who was almost six. Martin is a serious gardener and also confesses that he is not really that good with kids. While he was focused on weeding, Nicki was having fun: weeds were flying up in the air and dirt was spraying everywhere. At one point, he yelled at her.

"Nicki got a stern look on her face, and she walked right over to me. 'Daddy, from the time I was three until I was five, I whined a lot. But I decided the day I turned five, to stop whining. And I haven't whined once since the day I turned five.’ Then Nicki looked me right in the eye, and said 'Daddy, if I could stop whining, you can stop being such a grouch.'"

Waking up on the wrong side of the bed
The other day I got up 'on the wrong side of the bed' and was generating a lot of negative thinking. At one point I caught myself and was able to turn the day around, and this is something that is actually quite accessible to anyone who has practiced the basics of mindfulness.

ACTION/OBSERVATION COMMENT/THOUGHT
I woke up and realized that because of my sore hip, I had slept on my back all night. Damn. My back aches.
I got out of bed. The bottoms of my feet were puffy again. This has been going on for months. What's going on?
I poured some psyllium husks into a glass of water. Some of the medications I take cause constipation, so I take psyllium and use other measures to address this. Today I don't sense much movement in my colon. I didn’t pay enough attention to fluids and fiber yesterday. Damn.
The bucket under the water filter overflowed onto the counter top. Damned water filter wasn't made well.
I couldn’t find the pan I use to cook eggs. Damn. This kitchen is always too cluttered.

Angeles Arrien: what's not working
Years ago I read Angeles Arrien’s description of one shadow side she called ‘focusing on what’s not working.’ I have realized that this is a long time habit of mine, learned from my father. I realized that this habit was operating strongly at this point. I acknowledged that I could continue to be negative or simply acknowledge the 'not working' thoughts and also focus on what is working.

Thich Nhat Hanh: habit energy
In a talk in 1997 in Plum Village, France, Thich Nhat Hahn (also referred to as Thay, which means 'teacher') mentioned "habit energy." He stated that we have positive energies which we can cultivate and we have negative energies which we can transform. The practice “is to recognize the energy of our habits and smile to them. And also to cultivate the new habit, the good habit, until the new habit begins to produce energy." I recommend Thay's whole talk on dealing with habit energy which you can access HERE or you can copy and paste this url into your browser: https://sites.google.com/site/tnhdhamma/Home/test-list/taking-good-care-of-our-habit-energies

Applying these ideas into my own life
For the first several months after my aortic dissection last November, I was so happy to be alive and then happy that the repair surgery was successful, that I was carried by this positive energy. However, in the last month or so I have noticed that a tendency to slip back into the 'what's not working' energy. I realized the other morning that some intention to focus on this habit energy would be wise.

I want to highlight Thay's articulation "to recognize the energy of our habits and smile to them." Thay emphasized that mindfulness practice is not about suppressing those parts of us that we don't like and want to get rid of, but rather bringing that same kind of loving attention to these parts that we would bring to a young child who is clearly upset about something.

So that morning, once I realized that I was being sucked down the rabbit hole of this energy, I just laughed used a practice that Thay had described in another talk. I smiled and said "Hello old friend, I can see you are suffering. Come sit with me." And I felt that part as I practiced loving-kindness toward it: "may you be safe and well, may you be peaceful, may you be free from suffering."

Victor Frankl comes in too
I also remembered that great quote from Victor Frankl: “[B]etween stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom." In that moment, I was able to change my response to my growing irritability. A half hour later when I realized that I had forgotten to pour my decaf coffee out of the coffee pot before making my wife's caffeinated coffee, I just laughed.

Internal Family Systems
It is important to emphasize that it's not just Buddhist practice to deal with negative habit energies with kindness, it is also an essential component of a psychotherapeutic framework called Internal Family Systems which I wrote about in my August 12, 2019 blog post which you can access HERE. I worked with an IFS therapist for some time many years ago to ‘unburden’ my 'I’m not good enough' part.

What isn’t working and what is working
Since that morning last week, I have recognized the "what's not working part" many times each day. Sometimes I catch it early, sometimes not until it's a full blown storm, but I have been catching it more often. One day, when it was particularly strong, I told my wife that I probably should be by myself for awhile because my "what's not working part" was throwing a fit. She thanked me.

There's a lot in my life that's not working now:

  • I am dealing with the trauma from the dissection which almost killed me;

  • with having so little energy: the other day I went a a small gathering of people for two hours and then spent the rest of the day in the recliner watching TV and then in bed reading;

  • with the inability to lift more than 20 pounds;

  • with not being able to take care of my garden;

  • with having to monitor daily my blood pressure, my fiber intake (otherwise I'm constipated), my potassium intake (the medications I take lower my potassium levels), and more;

There’s also so much that is working, that is wonderful, including two friends who have volunteered to help me with gardening! When I remember and acknowledge what is working, it makes the hard stuff so much easier to deal with.

It's a full time job to be mindful. I’m not planning on retiring from that job soon!

Loving-kindness Meditation and Healing a Relationship

Loving-kindness meditation
One the most powerful Buddhist meditations is the one called loving-kindness. There are many variations but one that I like involves bringing to mind someone who makes you smile or whom you care about and thinking about the love you have for them and the love you have received from them and given them.   The idea is to generate an awareness of this energy we call love, which is always available to us.

Then you say these phrases silently: 
May you be happy
May you be peaceful
May you be free

In case the person is suffering perhaps from a physical disease, the loss of a loved one, estrangement from a loved one, the loss of a job, etc. this modification has been found to be helpful by many people: 
May you have moments of happiness each day
May you have moments of peace each day
May you have moments of freedom from suffering each day

Difficulties with my father
Because I’ve had a challenging and difficult relationship with my father, who recently died, one year I decided to practice this meditation with him in mind for an entire year. 

My father was almost always angry when I was young, and my siblings and I have talked about the physical and verbal abuse. As we got older, we realized that he suffered from PTSD from his many experiences in WW2, and that helped us to develop some compassion and forgiveness towards him.

Even though I knew he loved me and was proud of me, as an adult I received a lot of verbal abuse because he was a very conservative Republican and I was the only liberal  among his four children. It infuriated him that I canceled out his vote every election. I learned over time never to bring up politics, though he frequently would.

Loving-kindness meditation for a year
About 10 years ago after one such tirade on the phone, and we had said goodbye, I had reached my limit. I said to my wife "you know I’m not going to share a tear when that son of a bitch dies" My wife simply said, "you might wanna sit with that," meaning bring that hurt and anger into my meditation. So I did. For the next year every time I meditated I included my dad in the loving kindness meditation: Dad, I wish you moments of happiness each day. Dad, I wish you moments of peace each day. Dad, I wish you freedom from suffering.

Of course I never told my dad I was doing this. He was not terribly thrilled that I had converted to Buddhism. However during our occasional phone calls I noticed a shift. I was less reactive and my responses to his outbursts were coming more from a place of compassion and were more measured, like "Dad this is not getting us anywhere. Can we talk about something else?"

More compassion and tenderness
Sometime after this we had a family reunion to celebrate his 90th birthday. He was still pretty angry and abusive. My two sisters and I decided upon an intervention.  As my dad and I were casually talking, I was monitoring my breath and reminding myself of my intentions in this conversation. Then I brought up the subject. This is how the conversation went:

"Dad, you’ve been angry and upset a lot and we understand that: you can't golf anymore, you’re going blind and deaf, and you’re living in an assisted living center. That would be hard for any of us.” 
He acknowledged this with a nod. 
"Dad, what could we do to help?" I asked.
"I don’t know," he stated flatly.
"What if I called you more often?" 
"I don’t like to talk on the phone and I don’t like to talk for a long time so I don't think that would work," he responded.
"What if we said that it would only be a half hour?  Would you like that?" I offered.
"Yes I would," he said after a moment’s pause.
"How often would you like me to call?" I asked.
"Well not every week," he stated firmly.
I proposed, "how about every other week?"
He paused and said gently that he would like that. 

So then instead of calling him only whenever I felt guilty, I began calling him every other week and continued this for the next six years until he died in February. We would talk often about sports and about how my children and his great-granddaughter were doing. 

Sometimes he would bring up politics and often start ranting. I would let him rant for a little bit, calm my breath as he was talking, and remind myself of my intention to meet his anger not with my own anger or irritation, but with love and kindness. 

A couple years later, my sister who lived close to him was able to persuade him to begin taking an antidepressant. He steadfastly denied that he was depressed, With her doctor's help she said the medication would help take an edge off his anger and anxiety.  He agreed. 

While I am not a big fan of the pharmaceutical industry, in my dad's case it made a big difference. Over the next several years, our weekly conversations were actually pleasant. He would even catch himself at times in the middle of a rant, and the rants became much less frequent. 

When he died, I did shed tears and even wrote an obituary in the local paper. While here were certain arenas we never me on, I am grateful for the work we both put into the relationship that developed and grateful for the practice that enabled me to see him more clearly, more compassionately.

A Work in Progress

This aortic dissection has required me to move more slowly and to pay closer attention to my body (e.g., monitoring blood pressure, eating foods with more potassium, less sodium, and higher fiber). There are potentially high consequences for not doing this, so I have more motivation to pay closer attention than I did before.

Living into this new life also requiring new attitudes:
Attuning as opposed to trying to figure things out
Exploring as opposed to coping and adjusting

I am finding that there are some wonderful outcomes from developing these new habits.

Going slowly
I have learned that I have to limit my activities and monitor my energy. What would normally be a light day—taking a walk with a friend, a Zoom meeting with colleagues, and going to a Pilates class is now a full day. The rest of the day has to be mellower. If I don’t pay attention to my energy, I crash. That simple.

I have learned this slowly. If friends come over and we sit outside talking, my limit is about 60 to 90 minutes. Though I enjoy the company, it really takes energy to have conversation with others: deciding what I want to say, listening, feeling the flow of the conversation. I can feel the energy this takes so clearly now.

Knowing the energy cost of striving
Striving means trying hard to become what/who I think I should become, and I have always tried my best! I was given one clue about striving years ago when learning yoga. I found it challenging to hold the downward dog posture. My teacher gave me feedback but still I struggled. She said, “pay attention to your body and you’ll feel your way into the posture.” Really? It took a few classes, but when I got it, I was amazed.

Last week in my Pilates class, I had a similar experience with a floor exercise where we twist the body to one side while keeping the opposite shoulder on the floor. I’ve struggled with that posture, but last week I relaxed during the posture and was suddenly able to twist more while the shoulder stayed on the ground.

I have also realized (at a deeper level) how much energy it costs to go fast. For example, I have always flossed my teeth and typed as if I am racing to get my best time. It is amazing to feel the floss go up and down each tooth, and my arms and shoulders thank me when I type more slowly.

Attuning
Recently one of my favorite meditation teachers talked about our three intelligences: body, mind, heart and how important it is to attune to them so that they are aligned. Another teacher said that we need to pay attention to that which has heart and meaning. I am doing that more regularly, and I see the benefits.

Last week after two days that were busy for me, but which would have been moderately active days only 6 months ago, I was physically and mentally exhausted and said I was going to take off the next three days. The three days became five as I noticed how tired I really was.

Last night Yvette (my wife) asked our son if he knew how much our almost four-year-old granddaughter weighed now, and he said 34 pounds. I teared up and said, “I’ll never be able to pick her up again.” Right now I can’t lift more than 20 pounds, and while a good CT scan in June might let me lift more, my surgeon has said that I will always have to be careful about activities than can cause a spike in blood pressure, including lifting and vigorous exercise for prolonged periods.


After we got off the phone, I could feel myself spiraling into a depression. In talking with Yvette, I realized that since November I have been attempting to balance between being positive and letting myself be down. While it is important to cultivate gratitude and positive energy, if unchecked this can turn into minimizing ("it could have been worse," "I have so much to be grateful for"). Similarly, while it is important to rest and take time out when needed, it is easy to sink into self-pity, despair and wallowing.

Yvette noted that it takes courage to let yourself down because of the fear that you might not get out. I realize that this past five months has had many situations that were quite traumatic. I need to acknowledge and grieve the many losses that this disease entails. So I’ve gone back into therapy to better explore these energies swirling inside me.

Work in progress
“The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes.” Marcel Proust

I am seeing more things which I wasn’t able to see before because of striving and going so fast. I think we can all learn more about ourselves by slowing down and attuning to the energies of our body and heart.

Choice, control, and slowing down

Between low energy from the aortic dissection and surgery and writer's block, I haven't written here for a while and a few people have emailed to see if I'm OK. I realize that when someone asks me if I'm OK or how I'm doing, one word just doesn't begin to answer it. In one respect I'm doing OK given the dramatic changes in my life that are the new normal: monitoring my salt intake (reading all the labels), taking my blood pressure and medications every day, and making sure to keep my heart rate under 100.

I realize that part of my chronic tiredness is the normal "I'm ready for winter to be over" and "I'm ready for covid to be over." I also realize that part of my tiredness is tinged with some depression at having to let go of so much. There's also some fear about going back into the world, e.g., to the local Co-op, to the local coffee shop. Last Saturday we were invited to a small outdoor gathering for a friend's birthday. The chairs were several feet apart and we were masked. It was such a joyful feeling seeing people face to face.  The next day I felt a bit down, and I realized that I wanted more. I'm guessing this is what many others are feeling too.  

Slowing down
While there is fatigue and a bit of depression, I am also finding it fascinating to actually be moving much more slowly through the world. This may sound weird to some, but for the first time in my life, I am flossing my teeth slowly. I can feel the floss as it moves up and down on both sides of the tooth. I am paying attention. When going fast, I'm already thinking of what's next. I am also catching myself more often typing as fast as I can, fingers flying across the keys, and I can feel the tightness in my shoulders and the back of my neck! I can also feel a more relaxed body when I type more slowly. By walking so slowly on the Ashuelot River I have seen things that I have never noticed in the 30 years I have walked on that path before.

I have written before (12/31/19) about our three intelligences: body, mind, and heart.  I can tangibly feel the difference in my body when I go slower and when I am speedy, and I feel good that these three systems are more aligned and integrated. Yesterday I totally blew it while working on our family's taxes. I recognized it while it was happening, but my desire to finish before dinner was much greater than my desire to go slowly. When I was doing the taxes as fast as I could, I was aware of my irritability when I couldn't find the information that I needed. Especially with something like an onerous task like taxes, I can now feel more tangibly the after effects for the rest of the day--slipping back into an old habit of focusing on what's not working/what's not right--with the world, the country, my state, my family. And by taking a few minutes to just breathe, I can often feel that negative energy dissipate, at least somewhat.

Choice and control
The last blog entry was on choice and this is one of the great benefits of slowing down. When things happen that I don’t like, I can feel my reactivity in my body, my mind, and my heart and then be more aware of the choices I have in how I respond.  My natural tendency is to try to control what I don't like--in myself, in others, and in the world. From having lived in Nepal, I have seen that there are other ways of being with what one doesn't like than simply trying to change it or "fix it." This has been a major gift of mindfulness. For example, some people are talking loudly at 10 pm at night on the street or a neighbor, bordering on OCD, is once again mowing the lawn and trimming the bushes, or a colleague has a voice that grates on me. I, and most Americans, could go on and on about pet peeves. When I visited my dad, the number of times I heard "you know what really galls me is. . ." was in the double digits every day.

I've found the thoughts of two meditation teachers to be very helpful in this quest to be with what I don’t like in ways that keep my heart open, my body less tense, and my mind clearer.

From Winnie Nazarko: "One thing we’re developing clarity about. . .is what we have control and influence over and what we don’t. How do we figure that out? By again and again and again and again, on levels gross and subtle, attempting to exercise control over what’s arising in the body-mind…and usually failing. Eventually the mind starts to realize, “Wait. This is actually suffering when the mind goes like that. Can I let go of that? Can I sit back and be more receptive and allowing?” In order to do that, the mind has to give up trying to implement its ideas of how things should be. But it’s not easy." 

From Pema Chodron: “The circle of compassion widens at its own speed and widens spontaneously. All we can really control is that we choose to show up, we choose to practice, we choose to do the best we know how to do, we practice with the skill that we possess right now. We cannot control the results. We suffer so much less when we realize and accept that simple truth." 

And so I, and we, continue to practice and live the best we can, sometimes happy with the changes we have seen in ourselves and sometimes frustrated. And we continue to practice!

Our choices always have consequences

In every moment of our lives we make choices, from whether to have soup or salad for lunch to how to respond to a made comment by someone. Over the course of a day we make thousands of choices, most of them unconsciously. However, all of those choices have consequences, often huge. Mindfulness helps us to remember this and to pay more attention to these choices and their consequences.

Mindfulness has taught me that when faced with a choice--especially about something unpleasant--it is important to pay much more attention to my responses to what is happening than to what is happening itself. Let me give and unpack some examples.

Three choices in the middle of the night
On many nights over the past four months, I have awakened in the middle of the night in a state of fear and not been able to go back to sleep immediately. I was aware that I had many choices in those moments.

I could do a light body scan or I could simply bring mindful attention to the most compelling sensation—an ache in my leg or the feeling of the back of my head on the pillow. I brought a curious and accepting awareness to that sensation and stayed there until another sensation pulled me away. Whenever I realized my attention had wandered, I simply brought my attention back to my body.

Or I could practice loving-kindness. Sometimes I juiced up the energy of this practice by asking what I was grateful for, for example, I was still alive as a result of medical intervention, I had a bed, food, and was being cared for. Then I voiced the simple phrases: May I (others) be happy, May I (others) be peaceful, May I (others) be free from suffering.

Or I could focus on my breath: simply breathing in and breathing out. Sometimes, I would silently say “here” when breathing in and “now” when breathing out. If my mind was restless, I would count the breaths, starting over when I got to 10 and smiling when I realized I had lost count and then starting over!

Sometimes I got back to sleep soon, other times not for a while, and a few times I didn’t get back to sleep at all. The key is it didn’t matter! That is the what (getting to sleep) is so much less important than the how (how am I responding now).

Of course, experiential knowledge helps. At a meditation retreat 40 years ago, the teacher said that sometimes people can’t get to sleep and that if that happened, either to pay attention to our breath or to do light body scans. He said that even if we got no sleep all night, if we could relax and not resist, that we would be fine. A few days later it happened to me and I followed his advice—I don’t think I slept a wink that night. When the wake up bell rang at 4:30, I got up and walked to the meditation hall. To my surprise, I was quite functional that day. This practice has been with me since then.

Floundering
I also floundered a few times during the past few months. One of those flounderings was when I had to be readmitted to the hospital after my surgery. I really did not want to be in the hospital again, my third stay in three months, and I was depressed that I was still having issues after the surgery. I was definitely ‘on the pity pot’ feeling sorry for myself.

Somehow, it occurred to me to go back to a fundamental of meditation which I expressed in my own words, “Can I be OK with what is happening in this moment now.” To my delight, I could always say yes! After all it was much easier for me to say yes than it was for at least a few billion people who are homeless, freezing, in prison or camps, or being physically abused. I immediately calmed down, and continued to say yes to each moment. It didn’t take long to get back to sleep. I have continued to use this simple, powerful response since then, when trying to get back to sleep and during periods of being down.

Sacrament of the present moment
I was recently talking to my sister who is a co-leader of a lay Catholic community she has lived in for the past forty years. She responded to my story with happiness for me and then told me that Catholics have a very similar practice called The Sacrament of the Present Moment. She explained how she has used this practice over the years, especially during difficult times. Her practice and my practice are in different traditions but their deep resonance was wonderful to recognize.

Victor Frankl
Interesting a new book of writings by Victor Frankl is entitled Yes to Life, and one of my favorite essays (which is an Article in the Inspirations section of my website), is called Say Yes to an Open Heart, and both convey the same message.

This is from the last two pages of Frankl's book “It is terrible to know that at every moment I bear responsibility for the next; that every decision, from the smallest to the largest, is a decision “for all eternity”; that in every moment I can actualize the possibility of a moment, of that particular moment, or forfeit it. Every single moment constrains thousands of possibilities—and I can only choose one of them to actualize it…It is wonderful to know that the future—my own future and with it the future of the things, the people around me—is somehow, albeit to a very small extent, dependent on my decisions in every moment…But on average, people are too sluggish to shoulder their responsibilities….Certainly the burden is heavy, it is difficult not only to recognize responsibility but also to commit to it. To say yes to it , and to life. But there have been people who have said yes despite all difficulties...And they achieved it under unspeakable conditions. So shouldn’t we all be able to achieve it today in, after all, incomparably milder circumstances? To say yes to life is not only meaningful under all circumstances—because life itself is—but it is also possible under all circumstances.” Yes To Life, pp. 106-107.

Christian, Jewish, Buddhist—it comes down recognizing that our choices all have consequences. And then recognizing (and remembering) the difference when we say yes to life as often as possible.

Waiting

I had been telling myself that this time between getting home from the hospital on November 12 and my surgery on January 14 can be like a retreat—a time to move slowly, to savor my life, to walk every day on the river path near my house, and more. And it has been all that, especially the first couple of weeks at home after nine days in Intensive Care.

In the last few days, I realized that while the daily walks along the river are still amazing, I have been sinking into routines. This morning the combination of several powerful dreams plus my daughter’s Christmas gifts to me provoked one of those BFO’s (Blinding Flash of the Obvious): I have gotten into a mindset of waiting—waiting for the surgery to be over so that I can get on with my life.

I know that this mindset applies to many others too: waiting for the election to be over, waiting for covid to be over, waiting until the vaccine comes. Putting aside this past year, we actually get caught in these mindsets more often than we might realize, e.g., waiting until the kids are grown up, waiting until we retire, waiting until spring comes. These can easily become times of ‘treading water,’ and neither moving forward with our lives nor being fully alive.

Waiting
Christine Feldman, one of my meditation teachers, talked about choosing a New Year’s Intention to explore each year. One year, she realized that she spends a lot of her time waiting, because she teaches courses all over the world. She also realized that waiting is a mindset: it is generally not a time of being in the present moment, but rather either daydreaming, biding one’s time, or expecting and anticipating. She resolved to explore this “waiting” mindset and see what she discovered.

Exploring
Other teachers have talked about waiting. Two points have stuck with me.

First, when we are waiting for something, we are not here. We are generally expecting, anticipating, sometimes hoping, sometimes dreading. During these states, “we are being eaten by time.”

The other big point is to realize the relationship between waiting and me/mine. While waiting, if we observe the content of our thoughts, we realize that most will be about me/mine. And it’s usually wanting—wanting this period to be over, wanting something to happen, or wanting something not to happen. But our focus is generally self-absorbed with my needs, my wants.

When we realize we are in a waiting mindset, we have the opportunity to observe. We can begin with noticing what the body feels like (both sensations and energy), what the heart feels like (perhaps heavy, resentful, or anxious). With some calming, we can observe the qualities of the mind during these periods. Building on the notion that mindfulness can enable us to see things more clearly, we see that this mind state of waiting is not really serving us or the people that live with us and not leading to peace in our hearts.

Emily’s gift of watercolors
One of my daughter’s Christmas gifts to me was materials for exploring watercoloring: some paints, brushes, and paper. She had also found a book that encourages the reader to explore and to have fun.

My first thought was my utter failure in a watercolor class many years ago. My second thought was to wait until after the surgery.

However, her other gift was to learn how to play Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah (one of my favorite songs) on the piano. This is now beginning to sound like one of those commercials on TV: but wait, there’s more! Tying the song to watercolors, she had done her own exploring with watercolors—she had painted a beautiful orange-yellow wash on paper and then written, calligraphy style, the words to the song. A subtle hint that I might play with the watercolors myself!

So after the dreams last night, I will take out the watercolors today and begin some playful exploration!

Now

I am reminded of the last line of Mary Oliver’s poem Summer Day: “Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”

A great question for all of us to explore.

Tell me, what is it you plan to do with this precious moment, this precious day?

Choice, Intentions, and Interconnectedness

Choice
I have written before that one of the benefits of mindfulness practice is that it enables us to be more aware of the space between stimulus and response. During this period, between my aortic dissection on November 3 and the surgery to repair the aorta on January 14, I am required to go very slowly and to do very little. Suddenly, I am aware not only of more space between stimulus and response but also seeing more choices and their consequences much more clearly than before. Consequently, those choices are less often guided by "I should" and "doing what is right" but rather by seeing and feeling the wisdom of the choices that I am making.

Slowing down
I read a powerful passage from the book Epiphanies by a person who was also forced to go slowly for months: "When I actually slowed down, and sat, and stared at the wall, my resources to deal with the challenges in my life were even bigger and more beautiful than I had ever dared to imagine. They were just waiting for me to be still and recognize them." So true!

Cultivating intentions
I am also realizing that being more aware of choices also requires intention. This includes the intention (reminder) each day to notice and take in what is beautiful in the world. It is important to note that I also I want to see the "whole sky" not just the beautiful. This metaphor is explored in two books that I love: A Bigger Sky and Half the Sky: Turning Oppression into Opportunity for Women Worldwide. So I also read the news each day and donate money to various organizations. Before my dissection I devoted many hours each week to various causes.

Developing wisdom and compassion
This notion of intention and beauty connects to another aspect of mindfulness. Various meditation teachers have said that this path is about wisdom and compassion, that they are like the two wings of a bird which is incomplete without both. I have written elsewhere that I believe this second wing involves a whole family of practices which are important to cultivate: compassion, kindness, love, gratitude, generosity, wonder, and forgiveness.

When I bring these intentions to awareness each day, I live in a space where gratitude is a frequent visitor, where I notice and feel deeply more acts of kindness, and I take in the beauty of the world. I am lucky to live less than 200 yards from the path along the Ashuelot River that I walk on each day--walking slowly is like seeing new paintings by gifted artists each day.

Toxic energies
Angeles Arrien wrote about four universal addictions, one of which is the addiction to being focused on what's not working rather than what is working. I have been aware my whole life of hundreds of moments of anger, irritation, resentment, etc. each day about what is not working--in my life, in my job, in my family, and so on. I have worked hard to recognize and address these toxic energies.

I recall S N Goenka talking about this dynamic in the story of being insulted by someone and stewing about it--thinking "he abused me so"--for hours, days or longer. Goenka ended the story saying that this person said something mean once and then we repeat it hundreds of times!

I remember Pema Chodron saying that when we can deeply feel the consequences of these afflictive emotions (not just in our heads, but in our hearts and in our bodies), we can we drop that energy just like we would drop a hot pan that we accidentally picked up on the stove.

I remember Andy Olendski saying that it takes so much energy to keep fueling these emotions (e.g., "he abused me so"). I can also hear Ajahn Sucitto's dharma talk about how we play that tape over and over ("he abused me so") and how that energy becomes part of who we are, part of our karma.

I have told these stories to friends and students many times. And now, with going slowly and doing very little, and cultivating gratitude and wonder each day, I can more often and deeply feel the burning of such energies in my heart, body, and mind. Suddenly I just drop that that hot pan, and that toxic energy just dissolves. Sometimes that energy returns within minutes and I have to recognize and acknowledge its return. But its return doesn't mean I have failed, it simply means that it needs more attention.

Interconnectedness
The last part I want to write about today is the interconnectedness of all life, a theme I have addressed often. Many healers have said that one essential component of "health" is having a deep sense of connection (as opposed to separateness, a dis-ease which many people in industrialized societies suffer from). This connectedness can manifest in many ways, for example, connection to one's spirit/soul, connection to other people, connection to nature, and more.

An important part of my healing is the reality of interconnectedness in the natural world. One author said that "the trees, plants, fungi and microbes in forests are so thoroughly connected some scientists describe them as superorganisms" which connects to the Gaia hypothesis that James Lovelock and Lynn Margulis coined in the 1970s.

Thich Nhat Hanh coined the term "interbeing" to remind us that the illusion is that we are separate, and the reality is that we are deeply interconnected. This helps me to remember and feel such gratitude for all the support that I am receiving from so many people during this challenging and yet also wonderful (full of wonder) chapter in my life. I literally feel held and cradled by all that love.


A metaphor, a meditation, and a new book

Phew! Election day. At last. So many things might happen. What also might happen is that we take time for what nourishes us. A few thoughts and offerings.

A metaphor for these times
Can we tend to our life like tending to a garden in a drought? Knowing and accepting that the garden will take more care than in normal times We might even have to learn what additional care is needed.

Two questions to explore:
What nourishes your body? Exercise, nutrition, sleep…
What nourishes your psyche/spirit/soul? Contemplative practices, connecting with others, recreation, time in nature…

Expanding the metaphor
In hard times, people whose garden is doing well can share with others or help them with their gardens. How might we support others who are struggling?

A loving-kindness meditation
This meditation appeared to me last night and has resemblance to some other meditations I have learned.

I began by taking time to connect with that universal energy of love, compassion, and good-will.

Then I began visualizing members of my family. And I smiled.

Then I thought of people I love and care about. Because I have friends all over the country and the world, images of a map of the US and the whole world appeared. I saw lights in those places where I have friends and family. And I smiled.

I expanded my focus to all humans, and lights came on all over the world. And I smiled.

I expanded my focus to include all animals. Images of all sorts of animals appeared. And I smiled.

I expanded my focus to include all plants and fungi. An image came of trees and the fungal network underground—a wonderful feeling of cooperation and symbiosis. And I smiled.

I breathed in to this wonderful network of life above and below the ground all over the planet. And I smiled.

And I saw myself as one bit of light in this incredible web of life. And I smiled.

A new resource
I highly recommend Diana Winston’s new book: The Little Book of Being: Practices and Guidance for Uncovering Your Natural Awareness. She is a wonderful writer and a long-time practitioner. The book includes a thorough presentation of classic mindfulness meditation practices, and she explains and offers practices to develop ‘natural awareness,’ a term used by many meditation teachers. The last section addresses Informal Practice. The short chapters include: Hang out with children and Tap into nature.

Wishing for all to develop and sustain the practices that support you, and being kind to yourself when things aren’t going well. I’ve had more than a few times like that in the past few months and am more grateful for all the practices and ways of being I have learned from so many people and animals!

Taking refuge

Before I sit down to meditate, I bow down three times and say these words:
I take refuge in the Buddha
I take refuge in the Dhamma
I take refuge in the Sangha

Often I say these sentences in Pali, the language that the Buddha spoke:
Buddham saranam gacchami
Dhammam saranam gacchami
Sangham saranam gacchami

My first meditation retreat was in India where I learned these phrases. When I say them in Pali, the words often sink deeper into my being.

Sometimes, when I am exhausted, I simply say Buddha, Dhamma, and Sangha slowly each time that I bow down.

What refuge means
One translation of the phrases is:
To the Buddha I go for refuge
To the Dhamma I go for refuge
To the Sangha I go for refuge

Because I have had deep immersions in many spiritual traditions, these three phrases go beyond just Buddhism.

When I take “refuge in the Buddha,” I think of all those teachers—male, female, and non-human—who have inspired me, whose images give me strength: Jesus, Mother Theresa, St. Francis, Rumi, my various meditation teachers, trees, whales, and so much more. And I smile.

When I take “refuge in the Dhamma,” I think of all the teachings that I have been learned from: Buddhist, Hindu, Catholic, Jewish, Native American, and so much more.

When I take “refuge in the Sangha,” I think of all the communities that aspire to the universal principles of honesty, kindness, generosity, and more. Sometimes I see an image of dropping a stone in a pond, and I feel the concentric circles rippling outward: the people in the meditation center that I co-founded, the Buddhist monastery 40 minutes from my house, the communities in Brattleboro and Alstead, the meditation center where I have done many retreats, the Catholic community where one of my sisters has lived for 40 years, the Mormon community that my other sister has been so deeply connected to for more than 40 years, and so much more.

Just before I retired, I was fairly anxious about feeling alone. I am by nature somewhat shy and introverted, and most of my friends were still working and had busy lives. One day I decided to make a ‘family tree’ on a large sheet of paper of all the people with whom I felt some connection. Within 15 minutes that tree had many branches and close to 100 people. This connects to a line in an article about refuge: “in the most fundamental way, taking refuge in the Sangha means to remind ourselves that we are not alone.” Yes!

Refuge has two powerful aspects.
On the one hand, refuge can mean sanctuary, rest, respite, sustenance, and retreat. I think of all the retreats I have attended and how those retreats gave me the space and the time to deepen my understanding of the teachings and of my self.

Refuge also means support. I often recall people who have found the strength to meet adversity, teachings that have helped those people, and knowing that I am not alone.

Sometimes I think of the extreme abuse my mother faced in her childhood. Yet she persevered, and she was always there for me and my siblings. She volunteered in many ways throughout her life, and she sewed her last baby blanket for children in a local homeless shelter less than two weeks before she died from colon cancer. I think of Victor Frankl and his stories of courage in the concentration camps. I think of my friends in Nepal, where I was a Peace Corps Volunteer, and how they meet adversity with so much grace. And so much more.

When we don’t feel strong
Pema Chodron speaks about this aspect in Welcoming the Unwelcome. Some years ago she wrot to her students asking in what they took refuge when things got tough. What they wrote included things like Netflix, overeating, and other distractions. One of her responses was to say the refuge phrases in those instances, for example, I take refuge in this bowl of ice cream, I take refuge in this Netflix show!

I find this to be a wonderful practice for several reasons.
When I do this, I often laugh—at myself and with myself. I know that physiologically laughter results in the production of chemicals that are calming and soothing.
It is also a great practice because sometimes I even decide not to have the ice cream or to turn off the TV. When I do this, it’s not because I am shoulding myself; it’s because I remember the other refuges.
Finally, it’s a great practice because it breaks that dualistic construction of good and bad, practice and not-practice, times when I am strong and when I am weak.

I offer these reflections about refuge with this hope that it might provide strength to others, both during everyday times and during challenging times.

Full Catastrophe Living

A short post today. Some days life is more challenging than others! We are dealing with a medical situation that feels like it might be a flare up of the chronic pain issue that has arisen occasionally, but it is persisting and so we are dealing with uncertainty and how complex so many chronic issues are. I am also dealing with the insanity of this country and trying to respond in useful ways and not falling into hopelessness and despair. And my daughter, her partner, and their dog and two cats have been living with us since August 1; they are hoping to close on a house at the end of this month.

Even though these three elements have provided challenging moments, each has also brought gifts: more tender moments with my wife, some wonderful time with my daughter and getting to know her partner, and becoming a more active citizen. I am also grateful for strong marriage, a close family, and all that I have living where I live.

I smile when I remember Zorba the Greek’s response to the question if he was married: “Wife, children, house, everything. The full catastrophe.” This was the inspiration for the title of Jon-Kabat Zinn’s first book Full Catastrophe Living: Using the Wisdom of Your Body and Mind to Face Stress, Pain, and Illness. Simply remembering that title is often so helpful when life gets even more crazy, painful, and stressful than usual.

The other quote that is so helpful is from The Gambler by Kenny Rogers: “You’ve got to know when to hold ‘em, know when to fold em’, know when to walk away, and know when to run.” This current crisis has reminded me how helpful this mindfulness and meditation practice is and of the value of embracing both the simplicity and the complexity of this practice.

Metta as non-contending

An image during meditation
During a recent meditation I sensed an image of a screen where the images were moving from right to left. The screen represents what is happening in this moment, and this is constantly changing. Behind that screen was an image of a pair of eyes. This represents pure awareness which is neutral, simply observing, witnessing.

I know that what I pay attention to and how I pay attention is influenced by my responses to all that has happened in my life. This is essentially my past karma.

Rewiring the brain
The field of neuroscience supports the assertion that we can rewire our brains by making new choices rather than continuing to make old choices. Thich Nhat Hanh talked about habit energy, which can be changed. While old habits don’t change easily, they can be changed.

After the meditation, what arose were two practices that could assist me in bringing more mindfulness to each moment. Below is a description of the first practice.

Metta as non-contending
Metta is often translated as loving-kindness, and many authors have written about metta. One of my favorites is from a book called Walking the World (which is freely available online) by Ajahn Sundara:

“The first aspect of metta is non-contention, not contending with the world as it is. This involves intense training…Non-contending with ‘life as it is’ means giving space to oneself and others, not asking others to be what we want them to be…So this is something that we need to remember… There comes a point in the training when we realize that the only response to life is kindness, appreciation, encouragement and a sense of uplifting ourselves, inspiring our heart. Then metta becomes a very natural part of us. We can see ourselves as something natural in this universe, a kind of plant that needs kindness and attention…”

Noting the feeling tone of the moment
This notion of metta as non-contending connects to the Buddha’s teaching on The Four Establishments of Mindfulness. The first is awareness of the body and the second is awareness of the feeling tone of each moment: pleasant, unpleasant, and neutral.

I remember so clearly an idea from a course where the teacher told us that in every moment of our lives we are making choices about what to pay attention to. In each moment, we identify what it is (e.g., dog barking, pleasant smell, etc.) and in each moment our mind also labels this as pleasant, unpleasant, or neutral. This labeling evokes memories and patterns of response (old karma).

When we bring mindfulness to this, we have the possibility of making a different choice. Here is an embarrassing example. As I was writing this morning, I wanted to quote a passage from a book. I was resting the book on my lap, trying to keep the page open and it wasn’t working. I became aware of being very irritated, ironic given the content of what I was doing. And yet irritation had arisen. This habit of being irritated when things don’t happen the way I want them to is a habit I inherited from my father. Despite so many years of working with it, it is still a frequent visitor (as Rumi puts it in The Guest House). Using Ajahn Sundara’s framing, I so often have a contentious response to that which is unpleasant, that is, not what I was wanting to happen.

Putting this into practice
Our teacher in that course encouraged us to take a full week to simply note when the feeling tone was pleasant or unpleasant. Most of us were stunned to realize that this was happening virtually all the time! What I have found over the years is that in that moment of mindful recognition, i.e., “I am seeing this as unpleasant,” my mind and body relax and that contentiousness simply dissolves.

So that is what I have been doing for the past week: bringing the intention to notice when my relationship to what is happening is contentious. It happens, in me, hundreds of times a day—a feeling of dread about the upcoming election, the handyman replacing siding on the back of the house, the dog barking, traffic on the way to the hardware store, the parking lot at the store full, etc. etc. And each time I have this awareness of contending with what is happening, my mind and body relax and I move to a non-contending relationship.

Silence IS golden!

What is it about occasional or regular periods of silence that is so nourishing for so many people? Did it begin with our ancient ancestors having to be quiet during hunts or having to be quiet when a bear or lion was nearby? Or was it those spontaneous moments of silence like witnessing a beautiful sunset?

I remember moments of silence in my childhood, fishing in a lake with my father before dawn, watching a beautiful Arizona sunset with my mother. As I grew older, I felt the nourishment of moments of silence sometimes during church and then during some meditations.

I first introduced silence in my classes at Keene State during the Iraqi war in 1993. I told the students that I didn’t want to engage in conversation or debate but I couldn’t just pretend it wasn’t happening. I began each class with 2 minutes of silence. Students could do what they wanted as long as they were silent. In each class, after a couple of weeks, I asked the students anonymously (on blank sheets of paper) to say yes or no to continuing the silence. In all classes, the response was overwhelmingly yes.

In the following semesters, I introduced silence at the beginning of the semester. Over time, I taught simple mindfulness practices like awareness of breath, and I always made the silence optional. The result was that the overwhelming number of students found silence valuable.

Several years later, I made mindfulness integral in several interdisciplinary courses I was teaching. In those classes I taught awareness of breath, of body, of thoughts and emotions, and the loving-kindness meditation. At the end of each course, on the anonymous course evaluation, I asked students to tell me if they thought I should have more, less, or the same amount of mindfulness meditations in future classes. I did this three times and the overwhelming response was more!

Whenever I teach meditation, I occasionally open my eyes during a longer meditation to check in on how people are doing. I do this especially at the county jail where I teach meditation each week. I am always moved by people’s faces. Even though many say their mind is often busy during meditation, the faces are generally calm.

Last month I reread Silence by Christina Feldman, a book I dearly love. It is amazingly inexpensive ($11 on Amazon) given that it is printed on glossy paper and there are beautiful photographs on almost every page. I share three passages from the book.

“The moments of silence we encounter invite us to be still, to listen deeply, and to be present in this world. The glimpses of silence we meet remind us of a way of being in which we are deeply touched by the mystery and grandeur of life. In the midst of silence we remember what it feels like to be truly alive, receptive, and sensitive. Silence, we come to understand, is the language of the heart.”

“What difference would it make to our lives if we allowed ourselves as much time and attention to the cultivation of calmness and stillness as we give to producing and doing. Learning to live an intentional life.”

“Instead of fleeing from or avoiding the chaos of our psychological, emotional landscape, we learn to bring a gentle, clear attentiveness to it. The most direct way of doing this is to turn toward those inner places that are most wounded and chaotic…We begin to understand that the inner turmoil is a result of the many moments of incomplete attention we brought to the encounters of our day, the inner agitation that has compelled us to haste, and the times we have become simply lost in our expectations, wants, plans, and thoughts. All of this can be transformed as we come to understand that the life of engagement, activity, and creativity does not preordain a sentence of agitation and anxiety.”

I encourage readers to experiment with inviting moments of silence into your days.
Try this for a week or two—it might become a habit!
• When waking up
• Before beginning a meal
• In nature: listening to the wind, to the birds…
• In the city: the noises around you. This is your life now.
• At occasional moments during the day.

Fred Rogers’ Commencement Address

After deciding to move the blog to two posts a month a couple of weeks ago, I realized how tired I really was—the culmination of covid-19, the continued violence against unarmed black men, and my own daily life. I plan to resume the blog next Tuesday. Today I am passing on a story that came yesterday in my email box from The Daily Good, a free offering from Service Space, to which I subscribe: Fred Rogers’ Commencement Speech to Dartmouth in 2002.

Wow. What a privilege to be with you all. Since I’ve arrived here in Hanover, many people have greeted me by saying, “It’s a beautiful day in this neighborhood.” Well, indeed it is a beautiful day, but before I begin, I’d like you to know that I recognize that you, who live and work here, have had many days, particularly during these last several months, that have been far from beautiful. You’ve had a painful time, and you’ve handled it with dignity. I feel certain that the Zantop’s generous spirits inspire you. And it’s a great privilege for me to be with you all.

When I was at Dartmouth in the late 1940s, the tuition, room, and board all added up to $1,100 a year. Nobody owned a home computer, and hardly anyone had a television set. And those who did, there was a choice of three channels. I’m not sure if Jeanne Shaheen was even born yet, but very few people would have guessed that within 50 years, a woman would be governor or New Hampshire. Yes.

When I was here, the first word of the alma mater was “Men. Men of Dartmouth give a rouse.” Well, now the first word is "Dear." Some things change for the better.

During my first year here, I lived right over there at 101 Middle Mass. And I had two roommates. I had a professor, over there, who did his best to scare everyone in his class, and he gave me the lowest grade that I ever had in any school anywhere. But I also had an astronomy professor, George Dimitrov, who looked for and found what was best in each of his students. When I look at the night sky, I still think of that extra special, kind man.

Dartmouth is many things to each of us, and I'm grateful to Jim and Susan Wright for all that they have done for this school. And I’m grateful to my old friend, Chick Koop, for all that he has done for all of us. And I congratulate every one of you who is being honored in any way during this Commencement weekend.

Our world hangs like a magnificent jewel in the vastness of space. Every one of us is a part of that jewel. A facet of that jewel. And in the perspective of infinity, our differences are infinitesimal. We are intimately related. May we never even pretend that we are not.

Have you heard my favorite story that came from the Seattle Special Olympics? Well, for the 100-yard dash, there were nine contestants, all of them so-called physically or mentally disabled. All nine of them assembled at the starting line, and at the sound of the gun, they took off. But not long afterward, one little boy stumbled and fell, and hurt his knee and began to cry. The other eight children heard him crying. They slowed down, turned around, and ran back to him. Every one of them ran back to him. One little girl with Down Syndrome bent down and kissed the boy, and said, “This'll make it better.” The little boy got up, and he and the rest of the runners linked their arms together, and joyfully walked to the finish line. They all finished the race at the same time. And when they did, everyone in that stadium stood up, and clapped, and whistled, and cheered for a long, long time. People who were there are still telling this story with great delight. And you know why. Because deep down, we know that what matters in this life is more than winning for ourselves. What really matters is helping others win, too. Even if it means slowing down and changing our course now and then.

Anicius Manlius Severinus Boethius—what a name—was the last of the great Roman philosophers, and the first of the scholastics of the Middle Ages. Fifteen hundred years ago, Boethius wrote this sentence, “O happy race of mortals, if your hearts are ruled as is the universe, by Love.”

I was once invited to sit in on a master class of six young cellists from the Pittsburgh Youth Symphony Orchestra. The master teacher was Yo-Yo Ma. Now, Yo-Yo is the most other-oriented genius I’ve every known. His music comes from a very deep place within his being. And during that master class, Yo-Yo gently led those young cellists into understandings about their instruments, their music, and their selves, which some of them told me later, they’d carry with them forever.

I can still see the face of one young man who had just finished playing a movement of Brahms’ Cello Sonata, when Yo-Yo said, “Nobody else can make the sound you make.” Of course, he meant that as a compliment to the young man. Nevertheless, he meant that also for everyone in the class. Nobody else can make the sound you make. Nobody else can choose to make that particular sound in that particular way.

I’m very much interested in choices, and what it is, and who it is, that enable us human beings to make the choices we make all through our lives. What choices lead to ethnic cleansing? What choices lead to healing? What choices lead to the destruction of the environment, the erosion of the Sabbath, suicide bombings, or teenagers shooting teachers. What choices encourage heroism in the midst of chaos?

I have a lot of framed things in my office, which people have given to me through the years. And on my walls are Greek, and Hebrew, and Russian, and Chinese. And beside my chair, is a French sentence from Saint-Exupery’s Little Prince. It reads, “L’essential est invisible pour les yeux.” What is essential is invisible to the eye. Well, what is essential about you? And who are those who have helped you become the person you are? Anyone who has ever graduated from a college, anyone who has ever been able to sustain a good work, has had at least one person, and often many, who have believed in him or her. We just don’t get to be competent human beings without a lot of different investments from others.

I’d like to give you all an invisible gift. A gift of a silent minute to think about those who have helped you become who you are today. Some of them may be here right now. Some may be far away. Some, like my astronomy professor, may even be in Heaven. But wherever they are, if they’ve loved you, and encouraged you, and wanted what was best in life for you, they’re right inside your self. And I feel that you deserve quiet time, on this special occasion, to devote some thought to them. So, let’s just take a minute, in honor of those that have cared about us all along the way. One silent minute.

Whomever you’ve been thinking about, imagine how grateful they must be, that during your silent times, you remember how important they are to you. It’s not the honors and the prizes, and the fancy outsides of life which ultimately nourish our souls. It’s the knowing that we can be trusted. That we never have to fear the truth. That the bedrock of our lives, from which we make our choices, is very good stuff.

There’s a neighborhood song that is meant for the child in each of us, and I’d like to give you the words of that song right now. “It’s you I like, it’s not the things you wear. It’s not the way you do your hair, but it’s you I like. The way you are right now, the way down deep inside you. Not the things that hide you. Not your caps and gowns, they’re just beside you. But it’s you I like. Every part of you. Your skin, your eyes, your feelings. Whether old or new, I hope that you remember, even when you're feeling blue, that it’s you I like. It’s you, yourself, it’s you. It’s you I like.”

And what that ultimately means, of course, is that you don't ever have to do anything sensational for people to love you. When I say it’s you I like, I’m talking about that part of you that knows that life is far more than anything you can ever see, or hear, or touch. That deep part of you, that allows you to stand for those things, without which humankind cannot survive. Love that conquers hate. Peace that rises triumphant over war. And justice that proves more powerful than greed.

So, in all that you do in all of your life, I wish you the strength and the grace to make those choices which will allow you and your neighbor to become the best of whoever you are.

Congratulations to you all.

Why meditate?

"I like this, I want this, I must have this, I need this, I worry that I won’t get it…"
"I don’t like this, I hate this, this shouldn’t be happening..."

So much of our internal dialogue is about what we like and want and what we don't like and don't want. We call these thoughts ruminating, worrying, fantasizing, etc.

Pleasant, unpleasant, and neutral
One of the more powerful concepts that I learned from Buddhist psychology is Buddha's statement that we are constantly, mostly unconsciously, labeling the information coming to our senses as pleasant, unpleasant, or neutral. We tend to be drawn to the pleasant, turn away from the unpleasant, and ignore the neutral. Interestingly, neuroscientist have said basically the same thing in their language: our brain assigns a valence (+, -, or 0) to every input. This is true not only of humans, but all living beings. It's hard-wired and essential to survival.

Freud coined the phrase 'pleasure principle': we seek pleasure and avoid pain. When Jon Kabat-Zinn brought mindfulness to mainstream America, one of his catchphrases was that we live much of our lives on auto pilot. Buddha's point was that when we these assessments stay at the subconscious level, we are driven by them, and we suffer from this.

Primary and secondary pain
A common paraphrase of Buddha's response to this is that in life, pain is unavoidable but suffering is optional. Translating his teachings to modern language, he distinguished between primary and secondary pain. Primary pain, physical or emotional, is the initial information coming to our brain. Secondary pain is what we add, for example, "I don't like it," "I wish it would go away," or "why me?" In an 8 week course on meeting pain with mindfulness, I told participants that the secondary pain could be brought to zero, and all of the participants found some or immense reduction in the secondary pain.

Basic mindfulness
The beginning instructions for mindfulness meditation are to pick an object, for example the breath or body, and to cultivate an interested and non-judgmental awareness to what we are paying attention to. When we realize the mind has wandered, we gently return our attention to the meditation object. This alone has brought relief to many people. But it's really the beginning.

The next part is that we learn to pay attention not only to the object of our meditation, but more importantly we also bring awareness to the quality of our relationship to what is happening. The quality is: like, don't like, or neutral.

An example
I'll give a simple example from last night’s meditation. I was sitting in a chair, focusing on my breath, and I suddenly realized that the pads on my right foot were slightly swollen and my little toe ached. I didn’t like it. It was distracting. I brought curiosity to the sensations, but I still didn't like it. So I moved my attention elsewhere. A couple minutes later I checked out my feet again. Still a bit uncomfortable—the sensations hadn’t changed. However, my attitude had—it was now more neutral than disliking. More: it’s like this now. Period.

My teachers emphasize that we meditate so that we practice, in a controlled environment, with simpler stimuli (breath, body, etc.). When we do this, so often, the simple awareness that we are caught in liking or disliking causes that secondary pain to dissolve. When we are caught up in wanting the pleasant or hating the unpleasant, it's like pouring gasoline on a small campfire. When we bring mindful awareness to liking and disliking, it's like pouring water on the fire.

Why meditate?
One teacher's response to the question "why should I meditate every day" was "so you'll remember." That is, so you'll remember when you've been hooked into ruminating, fuming, worrying, etc. Hundreds of times a day. Little things like: someone pulls in front of us on the highway, or we hit three stop lights in a row, or the grocery store doesn't have what we want. Big things, like worrying about the upcoming election, or not having money to pay all our bills, or relationship problems.

I think I'm a slow learner or perhaps my childhood was more traumatic than I realize, but I know that I am remembering more often during the day when I'm getting triggered by something. And I have a variety of tools to respond to that recognition of being hooked. The simplest is to simply take a few slow breaths. I have other simple practices: S.T.O.P, 3-step Breathing Space, and R.A.I.N. on the Resources part of my website. I have more sophisticated practices that are written below the basic practices.

I also believe that meditation is not the only way that helps us to remember when we're triggered. These include making quiet time in the morning to read, to simply sit and look out the window, taking walks, practices like Tai Chi, Yoga, Qigong, among others.

Changes in this blog
I occasionally look at the numbers about activity on my website from the company I used to create the website and the blog. The numbers show that the activity has been steadily decreasing since March. It could be partially due to the pandemic. It could be partially due to my sending out the Quote, Poem, and Story each week since April. It could be that I'm often saying the same thing over and over. I have found this to be true with some of my favorite meditation authors. I've also realized that very few bloggers, who write a substantive post, do so every week.

At the same time, I enjoy the writing. It motivates me "to practice what I preach." I also find that it deepens my practice, giving me more clarity and insight. So I've decided to take a couple weeks off and then beginning in September to write a post on the first and third Tuesday of each month. If you have any feedback to offer, know that I am open to it at any time.

With appreciation,

Tom


Resting while you work

Eleven years ago, our Monday night book group was reading Sabbath by Wayne Muller. I came across some notes from that group recently.

One night a member of the group said that at the end of a meditation retreat, she complimented the cooks for such great food. The reply: “the food was good partly because we rested while we worked.”

Another person then recalled a story from a guide on how to climb a mountain: take a slight pause (rest) between each step. In doing so, and others found they found that they were less tired than they normally were after a long hike.

That led to a discussion about the possibility of resting while we work. So we decided to explore this idea.

Following are some of the gems from that exploration!
Relishing snacks of rest
When cleaning the house, one member found herself dancing through the house while dusting, and then dancing from one chore to another.

Being restful in work
“I used to do a lot of thinking while washing dishes but I felt tired afterwards. Then I tried paying attention to sensations while washing dishes. Now I don’t feel tired afterwards.”

Work as rest
“I used to hate to do the dishes. Then I tried paying attention to what I noticed while doing the dishes. Now I love to do them and I feel rested afterwards.”

The dance of restful work
This person explored the notion of resting while raking the leaves. Her initial thought: “This is a big job. I’ll rest when I get to a certain spot.” Then she decided to taking to time to rest whenever she felt it. She found a feeling of so much joy in looking around at the beauty in the scenery. She was surprised to find herself finished before it was time to pick up her daughter.

Putting work to rest
“I put all my ‘to dos’ in one room. This enabled me to do only what I could do. Such a relief! I went back to the other room and found that many of the 'to dos' didn’t need to get done after all.”

Advice from meditation teachers and a music teacher
I recall several of my meditation teachers talking about ‘resting in the breath.’ Another teacher advised me to "rest in the not knowing."

Work and rest are like notes and the silence between notes in music. The silence (rest) between the notes is essential for the song to form. Otherwise it’s just noise.

Several quotes about busyness and rest
"A successful life has become a violent enterprise.
We make war on our own bodies, pushing them beyond their limits;
war on our children, because we cannot find enough time to be with them when they are hurt and afraid, and need our company;
war on our spirit, because we are too preoccupied to listen to the quiet voices that seek to nourish and refresh us;
war on our communities, because we are fearfully protecting what we have, and do not feel safe enough to be kind and generous;
war on the earth, because we cannot take the time to place our feet on the ground and allow it to feed us, to taste its blessings and give us thanks." Wayne Muller, Sabbath

"To commit oneself to too many projects, to want to help everyone in everything, is to succumb to the violence of modern time." Thomas Merton

"We have developed an inner psychology of speed, of saving time and maximizing efficiency, which is getting stronger by the day. " Guy Claxton, British psychologist, 2002

"We are called human beings, but we have become human doings." Anonymous

Some gems from Sabbath by Wayne Muller
Muller makes the point that we often don’t realize how tired we are. When you meditate, listen to your body, mind, and spirit. After the meditation, explore relevant thoughts that come up. For example, do you push away the signs of fatigue for fear that if you really pay attention, you will realize how tired you are?

Reflect on the word ‘rest.’
• What does that word mean to you, really?
• What rests (refreshes) you?
• What intentional activities or rituals do you have in your life that give you rest?
• What keeps you from resting more?

Make a choice to find rest and quiet each day, using the metaphor of putting a fence around the flowers to protect them.

For at least 5 minutes each day, focus on paying attention to the breath, including the rhythm of the breath. Ask these two questions and listen for what comes up:
What do you notice about the rhythm of rest in your breathing?
What do you notice about the rhythm of breath in your body?

Some other explorations to try on your own
• Try resting for moments during the day.
• Rest in an activity. For example, eat a snack mindfully.
• Give yourself rest from interruptions. For example, don’t answer the phone during dinner.
• Do something in a leisurely manner: make a meal slowly, take a walk with someone, eat an ice cream cone and savor each sensation!
• When you get to work, rest for a couple minutes before getting out of the car. Do the same when getting home from work.

Begin to habituate rest as your personal sanctuary. Enjoy each moment!