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So many people have been ill. I don’t know if a patient will come for an appointment on time, what they will need, or if I will meet their suffering with an open heart and healing answer. I don’t know what my family, my daughter, or even I will need to feel whole and loved.

The wind blows in a new direction. I watch the leaves twirl down down down to the ground of uncertainty. And I am filled with a new hope.

I don’t know how the world will be, or even who I will be in the next moment. I do know that I can meet anything with an open heart as long as take refuge in this moment, and everything that is here to teach me about the groundlessness of being.

The Cure

I’ve searched for safety in clothing
and makeup, the arms of my lover,
in food, even in the kind words of a friend.
I’ve even looked for safety
in religious texts, the sounds of nature,
the eyes of my child,
but it was nowhere to be found.
Until I looked deeply into
my own heart and found
the most potent salve to dress
my wounds of fear.
Until I understood my own
intention for wholeness, and found
my own wellspring of love.

The Child

Some of us carry deep wounds from our childhood. As adults, these wounds often get triggered from daily circumstances and interactions with others. Painful emotions can resurface, causing us to repress them again and again because they are so painful and inconvenient.

This morning I was angry, and then fearful. I had another disturbing dream. I had been sleeping quite peacefully over the last few nights after engaging in many demon feeding and guided compassionate presence meditations. Why was last night so hard?

As I drove to work this morning, I listened to another guided meditation on Invoking Loving Presence in the Face of Difficulty by Tara Brach. A familiar choking sensation arose in my throat as waves of nausea tried to push through. The Child was weeping silently, slowly releasing a little bit of fear with each teardrop. My heart felt so raw and bruised with her suffering. My heart also felt more open to the Child and all she was trying to express.

The tears fell in torrents. The Child knew that she was safe, that she would always be able to share her fear and anger and guilt and sadness with me. I was her guardian, her mother of healing, her space to mix her emotions with my love and acceptance.

Over the last few years, and especially the last few months, I have learned to make the world – its people and places my allies. I know that I will continue to encounter difficult situations, especially when The Child is triggered. I will try to keep my heart open and remember the abundant supply of compassion my heart carries.

If I forget, I know someone will remind me.

Fall

There is something about a viral illness that makes me want to hold on to old schedules by over thinking and tensing all my muscles. I really convince myself that by holding on tightly, I can prevent the virus from entering my body and taking something vital away from me.

Over the past week, N has been sick, and one by one, we have caught the same bug. It has been so hard for me to give up familiar schedules of school and other fun activities with N. Yesterday, I was going mad inside the house, and despite the rain, took N out to the park for some fresh air, swinging, digging into the earth, and splashing in some puddles.

I decided to also feed my inner demon of anxiety. As I sat listening to Tsultrim Allione’s guided meditation, I imagined the demon taking the form of a human brain. When I asked what it wanted, it replied, “I want you to think and plan and keep doing.” When I asked what it really needed, it said, “I really want to know because I’m scared.” Finally, I asked how it would feel if it got what it wanted. The brain demon was looking down for a long time. When it finally looked up, I saw the distinct look of mixed terror and hope in its eyes. It whispered, “I would feel safe”.

I dissolved my body into the nectar of safety. I melted into a pine green creamy substance and fed the brain demon till it was satisfied. It changed into a green, then red, then orange, then brown leaf. She stood with such confidence, and urged for me to also change colors, let go of all branches of thought, and fall into the unknown.

Only then could I feel safe.

Life After Retreats: The Victim and the Warrior

If only it would stop raining when I get out of my car to run into the coffee shop. If she or he could take care of it, then I would have more time for solitude. If work wasn’t so busy, I’d be able to be able to spend more time with each patient and really be present and empathetic.

Do any of the above thoughts sound familiar? Do you feel that if you could just change the variables in your life, you would be content?

Sometimes I hold on to anger as if it is an inalienable right to vote against injustice. Then I purify myself by practicing gratitude, as if it is the best antidote against the victim disease. Perhaps the Middle Way is accepting both as my dear teachers, knowing that I could not appreciate everything in my life without the anger.

We have everything in our lives to wake up. Why then are we still sleeping?

I don’t want to be a victim anymore. Let the rain pour down in sheets to create a new story without any solid pages of who I am.

I am a phantom warrior outlined in rain droplets. I will not kill any of my mind states, but allow them to show me the freedom that is possible through paying attention to Mother Nature and the nature of all things.

The Journey

The Journey

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice --
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do --
determined to save
the only life you could save.

~ Mary Oliver ~

Seven days mostly in silence, seven days of going deeper and connecting with myself, the earth, and each other.

For two days Tsultrim Allione joined us and gave us the transmission of Prajna Paramita Practice, as well as Feeding Our Demons. I experienced my hydra demon of abandonment, fear, and a family demon that must have traveled with each woman down my female lineage. I saw how my fear of future insecurity has kept me from allowing my mothers to feed me in the best way, the only way that they could given their own demons and life circumstances.

My goddesses were also there, and showed me that their own unique and true nature was also inside me. Mermaid gave me the fluidity of water and the changing nature of all things. Angel gave me the spaciousness of sky to hold all of my suffering. The Earth Mother, also known as Gaia, Kwan Yin, and Tara gave me the ground of being and how I can take refuge in compassion anytime, anywhere, anyplace, always.

Mandalas, circles of colors, shapes, and pictures to express our inner experiences and aspirations were created and placed around the statue of Prajna Paramita as we danced and sang Praises for the World around her, each other, and ourselves in the meditation hall moonlight.

We shared our guided meditation experiences with a partner in dyads. Looking deeply into each other’s eyes to the depth of being, we also mirrored our individual sacred suffering. We were seen and heard and known and held and loved and celebrated as female beings of ineffable wisdom. I saw that healing is not always about having a solution, but about being understood by another.

As women, we must nurture our innate intuition to preserve all life, especially our own. We are not better than or less than each other. We are not our stories of suffering, but something so much more profound than what we were taught to believe.

Let us rise and take refuge in each other.

Comfortable with Uncertainty

Little Girl,

Terrified, you ask me, “What will we do about the uncertain future?” I give you a big hug, look deeply into your frightened eyes, and tell you we are OK now. Here and now, we are just fine. We can release a balloon of worries into the sky, or pick up a seashell at the water’s edge, and release it into the sea.

We are getting comfortable with uncertainty.

****

I will be away at Sacred Feminine retreat. This is what arises for me right as I leave home.

Life is not neat. It's messy.

I see how I like to keep everything tidy and in its proper place, how I cringe when a light fixture dies or some part of the house breaks and needs repair.

I see how I sometimes retract when a patient shares a powerful emotion, how my own body tenses when I am experiencing a difficult emotion and I am judging myself.

What if my daughter mixes the colors of paint together or colors outside the lines?

What if I stand quietly in the midst of my patient’s emotional storm?

What if I bring my own suffering to the ocean, the sky? What if I can merge with the waves, the air, and believe that I am not limited to this skull, these thoughts?

Life is not neat. It’s messy.

It’s time to stop hiding.

Maybe I can open my heart a little bit more to the love that is waiting for me

Everywhere.

Evening Meditation

Tell me why the sun breaks

and bleeds her brilliant colors

across the horizon, hoping to touch

some place in us that

died and longs to live.

Tell me why the waves

sound their ancient, eternal

rhythm in the night, hoping to remind

us we carry their song

in each breath.

Tell me why the moon and stars

illuminate the night sky, burning

holes through the veil, hoping to help

us see past our delusions

to find truth.

Tell me why we cannot meet and

open our hearts to this moment.

Don’t let the night pass in vain

and awaken to another

unexamined day.

What can we do…

Luminous Emptiness by Tara Catalano

to stay in the present moment?

This topic has become so important to me, that I feel as if I could write a thesis paper and earn a PhD in it. Not that I am an expert or anything. Just a lover of the freedom that comes with being in the present moment.

Here are some things that help me.

1.) Ignore your thoughts. Seriously. They can really suck you into this black hole where the self is inflated and all you are surrounded by are multiple images of this wounded, fragmented being.

I love the Checklist List to Feeling Pathetic from the comic strip Rhymes with Orange:

· Choose someone and compare yourself unfavorably to them.
· Examine your face closely in the mirror. Note all flaws.
· Relive embarrassing/awful moments that occurred years ago.
· Make a mental note of all the people you regularly disappoint.
· Disregard all compliments, especially from people who (supposedly) love you.
· Resign yourself to believing that from now on, this is how you will always feel.


How often do you find yourself thinking of one or all of the above?


2.) Breathe. Sounds so simple, right? Not always. For me, it helps to also add space to the breath. If I have access to a window, I try to breathe into the open sky, or into the ocean when I am near one. It helps to release all the difficult emotions going on inside me, and to reconnect with what is really here.

3.) Agree to check your cell phone or email a few times daily. I’ve noticed that when I check my Blackberry right when I wake up, my thoughts are already like multiple gymnasts at the Olympics swinging here, flipping over there, and I am the audience trying to figure out which one to pay attention to. The same thing occurs if I check my Blackberry for new emails at night. My dreams can be unsettling.

I guess the same thing is true of multitasking. Eating lunch and working. Listening to someone while checking postal mail. We somehow feel that we can beat time by doing more at once, when all it does is perhaps make us dizzier and less present to all that is occurring.

I’d love to hear your thoughts on what helps you to stay present. Please do share.

True Nature

I woke up from a frightening dream. I was asked by a Buddhist teacher who I respect to give a dharma talk (spiritual talk on truth). He took me to a particular painting and asked me to look deeply into it for inspiration. I was terrified. Who was I to give a talk? I was honored, but also let fear ravage my mind and heart with uncertainty.

As I was getting ready this morning, I suddenly realized I was projecting my own beauty and truth onto this teacher. In my life, I’ve often admired other human beings for certain qualities I felt they possessed. I wanted to be near them so I could be blessed with their traits, as if sheer proximity could fill an empty heart.

In looking past the fear, the guilt, and the impatience, I come to this place where radiance was/is always present. Every once in a while I get a glimpse of the light when I let my heart speak. I also sense that I cannot hold onto this light.

It is not mine to keep.

A Mother's Song

You call me Meme instead of Mummy or Mommy
because I see you, like a lama sees the moment
so perfect and pure without the need
to change anything. I hear your cries
to be known and understood. Sometimes
the anger rises like lava within me
the pressure building and begging for release.
I forget who you are and who I am, until
I breathe again, and see the child within me
needing to be held by compassion.
I sing for us, for all parents and children
who long to be a part of something
larger than themselves, as Tara infuses
the sky with light, the ocean with sound,
our hearts with space, to be as we are
and loved.

Letting Go a Little Bit More

I’ve always known that I could let go a little bit more to feel lighter and more peaceful, but sometimes it is so HARD! I would like to share a few things that happened recently.

Yesterday, N and I were sitting together at breakfast. She was engaged in her usual playfulness and slow eating. I felt myself tighten a bit as I though of all the things I needed to get done before my appointment in the early afternoon. I was encouraging her to eat faster so I could take her to the park before lunch. She looked up me with her large brown eyes and said rather intuitively, “Meme, I don’t want to go to the park. I want to just play here and paint.”

It was as if she could sense my mind planning and my body striving to move forward even though I was seated right next to her. She was giving me permission to just be, to feel the moment as if it were a texture that would not be felt again. I felt my whole being relax. I even became quite silly and playful, which actually helped her to finish breakfast.

As she painted and did some other artwork, she was surprisingly compliant with all that I asked her to do. I understood deeply that my presence was more important than any place I took N or any particular activity I presented to N.

My women’s group will be taking a short break for a few months. I was hoping to join a writing group, but just received an email today from the facilitator that the group was full for the fall. I allowed myself to feel the disappointment without trying to change it or make it go away. Just a few minutes later, I received another email from a facilitator regarding a writing workshop in October. Though it’s not a regular group, I received this possibility with a smile. There is also the possibility in joining another women’s group.

In the past, I would have pushed and pulled this way and that to make something happen. For now, I am content in watching some doors close while others open. I allow the tug of wars to play themselves out in my body, as I continue to be mindful of my breath and envision the ebb and flow of tides. I am trying not to get anywhere, and it’s weird, this letting go thing. I don’t know what will happen but I’d like to keep letting go.

****

The waves of mind
demand so much of Silence.
But she does not talk back
Does not give answers or arguments.
She is the hidden author of every thought
every feeling
every moment.

Silence.

She speaks only one word.
And that word is this very existence.
No name you give Her
touches Her
captures Her.
No understanding
can embrace Her.

Mind throws itself at Silence
demanding to be let in.
But no mind can enter into
Her radiant darkness
Her pure and smiling
Nothingness.

The mind hurls itself
into sacred questions.
But Silence remains
unmoved by the tantrums.
She asks only for nothing.

Nothing.

But you won’t give it to Her
because it is the last coin
in your pocket.
And you would rather
give her your demands than
your sacred and empty hands.

**

Everything leaps out in celebration or mystery,
but only nothing enters the sacred source,
the silent substance.
Only nothing gets touched and becomes sacred,
realizes its own divinity
realizes what it is
without the aid of a single thought.
Silence is my secret.
Not hidden.
Not hidden.

-Adyashanti

Trust

Trust used to be a future concept. Who would I be? Would I be OK? For me, trust is very much about the present moment now.

In his book Emptiness Dancing, Adyashanti makes a striking analogy of human beings with trees. If we were to lose our leaves (self images) each fall, we’d be a bunch of wooden arms raking the ground in desperation for all the fallen identities.

I have identified for years with the image of the child that was left behind and the child that was not acceptable as she was. So much of my current angst is attached to these images. A more recent image is one of the good Buddhist who is striving so fast for enlightenment, that she forgets the everyday wonders along the way.

Trust is very much about the present moment, and this is what I can do.

I can honor my humanness. I will still often be deeply attached to self images, a wave rising a bit higher than the others and lingering a bit longer to caress the sand before returning to the oneness of the ocean. When this happens, I can feel my emotions as best I can without trying to change them. I can try to let the thoughts pass. I can summon compassionate presence as a child cries for its caregiver, and let all the hugs, kisses, and lullabies fill the air that surrounds me.

Maybe this is enlightenment.

Remembering to come back to myself if I have left.

Forgetting.

And remembering again.

Wisdom tells me I am nothing. Love tells me I am everything. Between the two, my life flows.

-Sri Nisargadatta