N, you will grow older and change. May you continue to live in wonder.
Stolen Moment of Grace
18 hours ago
7.07.2009
3.8 Years
I want to thank Angela for reminding me of a topic I have been meaning to post for some time.
7.04.2009
Trying Again
Why do you stay in prison
when the door is so wide open?
Move outside the tangle of fear-thinking.
Live in silence.
Flow down and down in always
widening rings of being.
-Rumi
Growing up, I used to give up easily on things. Whether it was the voice of others or the voice of fear inside my head, I would tell myself repeatedly, “It’s too hard.”
It comes as no shock to me that I have approached mindfulness with the same attitude. It’s too hard. I’m never going to get this. I am doomed to live in my own prison, to repeat the same patterns of suffering again and again and again.
Or am I?
This morning as I sat in meditation, I was acutely aware of my body leaning forward as thoughts pushed me into the future. “Why are you sitting here just breathing? We need to plan for things. We need to get things done. We need to move, now!”
There was another presence with me, a sort of deep anchor holding me still despite the waves of thought as I sat on the sea of my cushion. I could feel the warm air of my breath move through me and embrace me with a compassionate hug. Another voice arose. “You are doing it. You are returning again and again.”
The second voice came straight from my heart. For a moment, I did not feel like I needed to change anything.
I heard the song of a bird outside. I am free to fly anywhere, and return to this moment. Trying does not involve any great effort.
For me, it is no longer a kick in the butt to pay attention, or a harsh judgmental voice shouting through my thoughts to do something.
It’s the ocean calling through my breath. “You are safe here. Thank you for coming back. Thank you for trying again.”
6.30.2009
Mind and Heart
Given the choice between mind and heart, I often still choose my mind. I’ve been conditioned to believe that thinking helps to avoid unpleasant situations by planning for the future or scanning the future for the next exciting event. Thoughts, promising something better if I’m bored, also drive me to check email, reach for sweets, or just bring myself to another place besides the here and now. If current thoughts, emotions, or physical sensations are uncomfortable, my mind can generate a whole new set of thoughts, emotions, and physical sensations to correct the unpleasant ones. Its message is clear. “Something is wrong. You’re in danger. Quick. Fix this.”
So what would help me pay more attention to my heart? I thought it would be helpful if I made a list.
-It reminds me to breathe. I notice and appreciate details I would have otherwise missed hurrying along to prepare for the next moment. I also truly feel safe here, more than anywhere else.
-Despite the anatomic limitation to four chambers, I know that it can expand to hold the pain of the child within and all other unpleasant and pleasant feelings.
-It reminds me that everyone deserves love regardless of their appearance, financial status, choices, professions, abilities, heritage, spiritual background, etc. There are no distinctions between their heart and my own.
-It allows me to speak from a spacious place where words are not delivered to hurt or judge others. Someone once said, “Love is leading others back to themselves”. Sometimes all another person needs is for me to listen, to create sacred space for them.
-It is a garden where I can plant as many seeds of compassion as I like. Each time I cry, a new sprout of healing grows into a beautiful flower, a tribute to suffering. I don’t need to escape suffering. I can be with it to understand.
Let me now choose my heart.
So what would help me pay more attention to my heart? I thought it would be helpful if I made a list.
-It reminds me to breathe. I notice and appreciate details I would have otherwise missed hurrying along to prepare for the next moment. I also truly feel safe here, more than anywhere else.
-Despite the anatomic limitation to four chambers, I know that it can expand to hold the pain of the child within and all other unpleasant and pleasant feelings.
-It reminds me that everyone deserves love regardless of their appearance, financial status, choices, professions, abilities, heritage, spiritual background, etc. There are no distinctions between their heart and my own.
-It allows me to speak from a spacious place where words are not delivered to hurt or judge others. Someone once said, “Love is leading others back to themselves”. Sometimes all another person needs is for me to listen, to create sacred space for them.
-It is a garden where I can plant as many seeds of compassion as I like. Each time I cry, a new sprout of healing grows into a beautiful flower, a tribute to suffering. I don’t need to escape suffering. I can be with it to understand.
Let me now choose my heart.
6.24.2009
It's like this.
There is something about a blank white Microsoft Word document page that is so comforting to me. As the cursor is flashing, waiting for me to type some words, there are endless possibilities for me to describe my latest experience. I actually thought I would start this piece a little differently, but I could not start typing without first expressing my deepest gratitude for this page, and how it patiently waits for me to tell my story.
I’ve recently been reliving many painful memories from childhood, ones where my sensitivity and emotions were suppressed in order to feel secure, wanted, and loved. It has been a vital process in tracing the origins of my inner critic. I’ve uncovered all the subtle ways I strive for self-improvement. If I try hard enough, I won’t ever have to suffer again. I won’t have to ever feel any physical or emotional pain.
The problem with this mentality is that I will always be running and trying desperately to reach a destination that does not exist. Depending on the flavor of a given experience – pleasant or unpleasant, safe or unsafe, wanted or unwanted, I try to make it last forever or push it away with everything I’ve got.
And you know what? I’m really tired. No, EXHAUSTED. I don’t want to be a defective reflection of another person’s dissatisfaction. I don’t have that much power. If my mother is unhappy, my daughter is misbehaving, my husband is angry, my patients are displeased, or my other family/friends are frustrated, I don’t want to believe that critical voice inside my head that tells me I am responsible for everything, that I must act swiftly to correct things.
I’ve even noticed that I strive in Buddhism. Hoping to become the perfect Buddhist to escape suffering and become eternally peaceful, I’ve spent the last 2 years reading books about Buddhism, psychology, or self-help. It’s almost comical to think I could be any better than I already am, or that there is even a place untouched by suffering. All that time and energy spent trying to find the perfect tool to my problem is now available for something else.
I sense that I will be building a new home. The roof will leak; the paint will crack; the plumbing will need adjustments over time. I will try to embrace all of these natural changes as vital parts of the process. I smile when I think of the foundation, a heart filled with compassion to hold all suffering. I even smile at the allowance for forgetting, and remembering again.
In the words of Ajahn Sumedho, “It’s like this.” Suffering is like this. Freedom is like this. Striving is like this. Non-striving is like this. It’s not a reward or punishment for doing the right or wrong thing. It’s the sky of awareness as clouds pass through. I can’t hold on to the clouds or push them away. I can understand that it’s the freezing rain, the warm sun, a cloudy dark day or a clear black night aglow with a full moon and stars.
It will change, and change is like this.
I’ve recently been reliving many painful memories from childhood, ones where my sensitivity and emotions were suppressed in order to feel secure, wanted, and loved. It has been a vital process in tracing the origins of my inner critic. I’ve uncovered all the subtle ways I strive for self-improvement. If I try hard enough, I won’t ever have to suffer again. I won’t have to ever feel any physical or emotional pain.
The problem with this mentality is that I will always be running and trying desperately to reach a destination that does not exist. Depending on the flavor of a given experience – pleasant or unpleasant, safe or unsafe, wanted or unwanted, I try to make it last forever or push it away with everything I’ve got.
And you know what? I’m really tired. No, EXHAUSTED. I don’t want to be a defective reflection of another person’s dissatisfaction. I don’t have that much power. If my mother is unhappy, my daughter is misbehaving, my husband is angry, my patients are displeased, or my other family/friends are frustrated, I don’t want to believe that critical voice inside my head that tells me I am responsible for everything, that I must act swiftly to correct things.
I’ve even noticed that I strive in Buddhism. Hoping to become the perfect Buddhist to escape suffering and become eternally peaceful, I’ve spent the last 2 years reading books about Buddhism, psychology, or self-help. It’s almost comical to think I could be any better than I already am, or that there is even a place untouched by suffering. All that time and energy spent trying to find the perfect tool to my problem is now available for something else.
I sense that I will be building a new home. The roof will leak; the paint will crack; the plumbing will need adjustments over time. I will try to embrace all of these natural changes as vital parts of the process. I smile when I think of the foundation, a heart filled with compassion to hold all suffering. I even smile at the allowance for forgetting, and remembering again.
In the words of Ajahn Sumedho, “It’s like this.” Suffering is like this. Freedom is like this. Striving is like this. Non-striving is like this. It’s not a reward or punishment for doing the right or wrong thing. It’s the sky of awareness as clouds pass through. I can’t hold on to the clouds or push them away. I can understand that it’s the freezing rain, the warm sun, a cloudy dark day or a clear black night aglow with a full moon and stars.
It will change, and change is like this.
6.17.2009
Her name was Miss Bruggemann.
Her name was Miss Bruggemann. She was my 7th and 8th grade English teacher. She inspired my first dance with words as the music from my heart encouraged the pen to glide on paper as if I had been writing from the womb. I had written my first poem about apartheid after we had just finished reading Cry the Beloved Country by Alan Paton. I don’t remember much of the poem, except for these lines:
Day by day
We come upon
People who are different
Who do not belong
They may be different
From the outside view
But may not be different
By what they do…
Feelings of great sadness and unlimited hope rise like waves in my heart and then break meekly against the shore of humanity, of misunderstanding and compassion as I fondly remember my first deep experience with writing. My vulnerability and opening to this type of exploration could not have occurred without Miss B. She was the first adult in my life who provided the space for all feelings, unpleasant and pleasant to flow like a river to meet the ocean without any dams of inhibition or embarrassment.
I also remember the day she took me out of line as my classmates and I were walking to Wednesday church service (it was a Lutheran school). Quite sternly, she asked me to wash all my eye shadow off. At the time I felt small and criticized, and could not comprehend her motivation for scolding me when most of the other girls had also painted their faces with makeup.
Years later, the awareness came like the first light of morning, a sliver at first, then widespread understanding that could no longer be contained or ignored.
She was sharing her wisdom with me, so simple yet so profound.
“You don’t have to hide anymore.”
As I continue to work with all the judgments from childhood, and reflect on how I have carried a load of critical books heavier than my high school back pack, I am ready to let them all go. But I will hold on to the memory of Miss B like a Pulitzer Prize I give to myself for everything I have written. The words are not worthy of praise because of their cleverness or artistic placement. Perhaps they are worthy because they are beginning to flow naturally from this woman who no longer wants to be contained, but free to express her experience without guilt or uncertainty.
Miss B, I am starting to believe you.
Day by day
We come upon
People who are different
Who do not belong
They may be different
From the outside view
But may not be different
By what they do…
Feelings of great sadness and unlimited hope rise like waves in my heart and then break meekly against the shore of humanity, of misunderstanding and compassion as I fondly remember my first deep experience with writing. My vulnerability and opening to this type of exploration could not have occurred without Miss B. She was the first adult in my life who provided the space for all feelings, unpleasant and pleasant to flow like a river to meet the ocean without any dams of inhibition or embarrassment.
I also remember the day she took me out of line as my classmates and I were walking to Wednesday church service (it was a Lutheran school). Quite sternly, she asked me to wash all my eye shadow off. At the time I felt small and criticized, and could not comprehend her motivation for scolding me when most of the other girls had also painted their faces with makeup.
Years later, the awareness came like the first light of morning, a sliver at first, then widespread understanding that could no longer be contained or ignored.
She was sharing her wisdom with me, so simple yet so profound.
“You don’t have to hide anymore.”
As I continue to work with all the judgments from childhood, and reflect on how I have carried a load of critical books heavier than my high school back pack, I am ready to let them all go. But I will hold on to the memory of Miss B like a Pulitzer Prize I give to myself for everything I have written. The words are not worthy of praise because of their cleverness or artistic placement. Perhaps they are worthy because they are beginning to flow naturally from this woman who no longer wants to be contained, but free to express her experience without guilt or uncertainty.
Miss B, I am starting to believe you.
6.15.2009
i am
i am not defined by my appearance
my profession, my thoughts
not even by these words
bound by punctuation
i am a bird filling the air
with her song as trees dance
and a child smiles
i am a homeless person
an unfinished project to most people
still looking for answers themselves
i am compost and a flower
i am hunger and satiety
i am a woman judging her reflection
as a river carries my image downstream
to a faceless ocean that
evaporates into the air
the breath of all life
an ocean that touches each grain
of sand at every shoreline
i am the setting sun, the heart
breaking against the horizon
bleeding painful and joyous emotions
staining the evening sky with the deepest
intentions of love before moonrise
i am each soul
yearning to be free
my profession, my thoughts
not even by these words
bound by punctuation
i am a bird filling the air
with her song as trees dance
and a child smiles
i am a homeless person
an unfinished project to most people
still looking for answers themselves
i am compost and a flower
i am hunger and satiety
i am a woman judging her reflection
as a river carries my image downstream
to a faceless ocean that
evaporates into the air
the breath of all life
an ocean that touches each grain
of sand at every shoreline
i am the setting sun, the heart
breaking against the horizon
bleeding painful and joyous emotions
staining the evening sky with the deepest
intentions of love before moonrise
i am each soul
yearning to be free
6.09.2009
Reflections on change, guilt, and letting go.
Some flowers bloom in the sun.
****
For the past week, N has been ill. This has meant lots of change: change in behaviors, change in schedules, and even changes in perceptions. I used to believe that during times of change, at least my emotional states of aversion, fear, anger, and sadness were predictable. This time, I also saw that guilt was an important ingredient of suffering.
Guilt motivated me to wake N up early for a class, when sleep would have been better for her. If I did not take her to the class, then I would not be doing something fun with her as I had personal plans that did not include her later in the day. Guilt was also the reason why I would hesitate to discipline N or set helpful limits for her. I was worried that I was not being emotionally supportive, and projected my own angst from childhood onto N.
When I became aware of guilt as a motivating factor for my actions, I chose to let N sleep in instead of taking her to a class, and also set appropriate limits when needed. I am grateful for this awareness, and even for guilt. I see that change is inevitable, and trying to control things only makes me feel more constricted. Breathing, awareness of guilt, and loving kindness practice help to remind me of the spaciousness achieved with letting go. I sometimes even need to let go of the idea that I can control my emotions!
****
Some flowers also bloom in the rain. Their petals bear the weight of tears in order to grow. They learn that true opening occurs in the toughest weather.
****
For the past week, N has been ill. This has meant lots of change: change in behaviors, change in schedules, and even changes in perceptions. I used to believe that during times of change, at least my emotional states of aversion, fear, anger, and sadness were predictable. This time, I also saw that guilt was an important ingredient of suffering.
Guilt motivated me to wake N up early for a class, when sleep would have been better for her. If I did not take her to the class, then I would not be doing something fun with her as I had personal plans that did not include her later in the day. Guilt was also the reason why I would hesitate to discipline N or set helpful limits for her. I was worried that I was not being emotionally supportive, and projected my own angst from childhood onto N.
When I became aware of guilt as a motivating factor for my actions, I chose to let N sleep in instead of taking her to a class, and also set appropriate limits when needed. I am grateful for this awareness, and even for guilt. I see that change is inevitable, and trying to control things only makes me feel more constricted. Breathing, awareness of guilt, and loving kindness practice help to remind me of the spaciousness achieved with letting go. I sometimes even need to let go of the idea that I can control my emotions!
****
Some flowers also bloom in the rain. Their petals bear the weight of tears in order to grow. They learn that true opening occurs in the toughest weather.
6.01.2009
All My Children
On my blog, I talk a lot about emotions as doorways. Each day, a new experience arises and reminds me how difficult emotions really do have important lessons for those of us willing to listen.
Today, I decided to take N on a lovely picnic near a local lake after school. We picked up some sandwiches and bags of chips on the way. I was certain she would love the potato chips, as she does not get to have them often.
I spread a sheet in the shade under a tree, and we began to have lunch. The weather was a delightful and breezy 72 degrees. Ducks paddled over the lake’s surface, and a couple waved to us as they walked by. “Nice day, huh?” I was grateful for N’s company, the abundance of food, and the serenity of Nature in late spring.
Just then, N wanted to sit in my lap. A few birds were merrily chirping and hopping nearby us. She wasn’t appreciating the local chorus of birdsong as I was. She wanted to leave, NOW. I sang with the birds, and we even picked out some names for them. This appeased her for a while, until some insects began to fly close to her.
I took the sheet and placed it on higher ground near a small wooden dock next to the lake. I felt that this might offer N a bit more security. She did let me finish my sandwich, and then we took her food into the car. After she was done, I proposed a walk around the lake. She was yawning and looked sleepy, so we came home.
To my surprise, she wanted to go to a local favorite park, so I packed her sand toys and some grapes, and off we were again. At the park, she didn’t play much with her sand toys, and really didn’t sit on the swing for longer than five or ten minutes.
I was secretly hoping to salvage the day with the park. I had initially noticed a subtle feeling of discontent at the lake, and this feeling was growing into a larger worry. What did I do wrong? Didn’t I know N gets frightened of birds and insects when they are too close? Maybe it would have been better to have lunch at home and then go for a walk around the lake. Or maybe it would have been better to just go to the park after lunch.
The possibilities were endless.
After we got home from the park, I sensed that N just wanted to take a nap. She must be exhausted from the weekend with her grandparents. It was unusual for her to ask to come home from the park.
I did nothing wrong, and everything right today. When I sensed that N was uncomfortable, I did what I could to help her. My feelings of aversion and fear were really held by a mother called Understanding. Our emotions are very much like children. They can deplete much of our energy. They can also be highly unpredictable. They require a mindful presence that seeks to nurture than destroy, to comfort than criticize, to love than hate all that they are trying to teach us.
Emotions, I love you all. Like N, you are all my children. This mother will continue to open her arms to embrace all of you.
You are my path to healing.
Today, I decided to take N on a lovely picnic near a local lake after school. We picked up some sandwiches and bags of chips on the way. I was certain she would love the potato chips, as she does not get to have them often.
I spread a sheet in the shade under a tree, and we began to have lunch. The weather was a delightful and breezy 72 degrees. Ducks paddled over the lake’s surface, and a couple waved to us as they walked by. “Nice day, huh?” I was grateful for N’s company, the abundance of food, and the serenity of Nature in late spring.
Just then, N wanted to sit in my lap. A few birds were merrily chirping and hopping nearby us. She wasn’t appreciating the local chorus of birdsong as I was. She wanted to leave, NOW. I sang with the birds, and we even picked out some names for them. This appeased her for a while, until some insects began to fly close to her.
I took the sheet and placed it on higher ground near a small wooden dock next to the lake. I felt that this might offer N a bit more security. She did let me finish my sandwich, and then we took her food into the car. After she was done, I proposed a walk around the lake. She was yawning and looked sleepy, so we came home.
To my surprise, she wanted to go to a local favorite park, so I packed her sand toys and some grapes, and off we were again. At the park, she didn’t play much with her sand toys, and really didn’t sit on the swing for longer than five or ten minutes.
I was secretly hoping to salvage the day with the park. I had initially noticed a subtle feeling of discontent at the lake, and this feeling was growing into a larger worry. What did I do wrong? Didn’t I know N gets frightened of birds and insects when they are too close? Maybe it would have been better to have lunch at home and then go for a walk around the lake. Or maybe it would have been better to just go to the park after lunch.
The possibilities were endless.
After we got home from the park, I sensed that N just wanted to take a nap. She must be exhausted from the weekend with her grandparents. It was unusual for her to ask to come home from the park.
I did nothing wrong, and everything right today. When I sensed that N was uncomfortable, I did what I could to help her. My feelings of aversion and fear were really held by a mother called Understanding. Our emotions are very much like children. They can deplete much of our energy. They can also be highly unpredictable. They require a mindful presence that seeks to nurture than destroy, to comfort than criticize, to love than hate all that they are trying to teach us.
Emotions, I love you all. Like N, you are all my children. This mother will continue to open her arms to embrace all of you.
You are my path to healing.
5.26.2009
Dear Daughter
Dear Daughter,
Someone once said that whatever you leave out of your heart is the exact thing that gets in the way. When you were first born, I was fearful and sad. After studying for quite some time, I had just begun a journey of self discovery and healing. I didn’t know how to include you into my life. By accepting you, I felt as if I was rejecting myself.
Through therapy and mindfulness, I learned how to stay and let fear, anger, guilt, sadness, and doubt have their say. When I finally stopped trying to get the last word in our arguments, I finally heard what they all were trying to tell me.
“Please let us in. We are like lepers, outcasts to most people. We would like to be embraced and accepted by you. We would rather be in your heart than your muscles, joints or gut where we need to manifest as pain or gastritis in order to be heard.”
One day you will ask me why you don’t have a sibling. How do I begin to explain that it took me a few years to accept you into my heart, and more than 35 years to truly love myself? I am just beginning to see the healthy green sprouts of love I am planting, and trusting that in time there will be a large garden of wellness for us both.
When you are ready for this letter, you will know that your own third eye is clear to support your intuition, your deepest aspirations for yourself. You will call, and the ocean will answer. She will kiss your feet with her salty breath, and fill you with wisdom from her deep waters. You will see that even your unpleasant emotions can be revered guides if you let them speak to you softly. You will know which path to take.
You will know how to love yourself. The light from within you and the sound of your voice will travel far and wide to embrace all you meet with love.
May you be happy.
May you be well.
May you be safe.
May you be peaceful and at ease.
May you know the love that is inside you.
May you find that love when you are suffering.
If you cannot see that love, know that I am the voice of the tides, the twinkle in each star, the dancing tree who will lead you home again.
With all my love and best intentions for you,
Meme
Someone once said that whatever you leave out of your heart is the exact thing that gets in the way. When you were first born, I was fearful and sad. After studying for quite some time, I had just begun a journey of self discovery and healing. I didn’t know how to include you into my life. By accepting you, I felt as if I was rejecting myself.
Through therapy and mindfulness, I learned how to stay and let fear, anger, guilt, sadness, and doubt have their say. When I finally stopped trying to get the last word in our arguments, I finally heard what they all were trying to tell me.
“Please let us in. We are like lepers, outcasts to most people. We would like to be embraced and accepted by you. We would rather be in your heart than your muscles, joints or gut where we need to manifest as pain or gastritis in order to be heard.”
One day you will ask me why you don’t have a sibling. How do I begin to explain that it took me a few years to accept you into my heart, and more than 35 years to truly love myself? I am just beginning to see the healthy green sprouts of love I am planting, and trusting that in time there will be a large garden of wellness for us both.
When you are ready for this letter, you will know that your own third eye is clear to support your intuition, your deepest aspirations for yourself. You will call, and the ocean will answer. She will kiss your feet with her salty breath, and fill you with wisdom from her deep waters. You will see that even your unpleasant emotions can be revered guides if you let them speak to you softly. You will know which path to take.
You will know how to love yourself. The light from within you and the sound of your voice will travel far and wide to embrace all you meet with love.
May you be happy.
May you be well.
May you be safe.
May you be peaceful and at ease.
May you know the love that is inside you.
May you find that love when you are suffering.
If you cannot see that love, know that I am the voice of the tides, the twinkle in each star, the dancing tree who will lead you home again.
With all my love and best intentions for you,
Meme
5.23.2009
Why are you here?
Yesterday, I saw a thought provoking bumper sticker that read, “Why are you here?”
It got me thinking.
I’m here to undo the knots of suffering accumulated by generations before me. I hope this will leave less knots to accumulate for my daughter.
I’m here to be a clear intuitive healer to help others reconnect with themselves. Only then can they find and untie their own knots.
Why are you here?
It got me thinking.
I’m here to undo the knots of suffering accumulated by generations before me. I hope this will leave less knots to accumulate for my daughter.
I’m here to be a clear intuitive healer to help others reconnect with themselves. Only then can they find and untie their own knots.
Why are you here?
5.19.2009
N's gift to me
As a parent, I have recently practiced paying attention to what happens inside my mind and body when my three year old daughter ‘misbehaves’. I’ve noticed a tightening in my body while my mind is telling me, “She’s doing this to make you mad. She’s doing this to test you. Gain some control. You’re the parent!”
As I practice more mindfulness in daily life, and not just while sitting in meditation, I’ve also noticed that I’m a big planner. I need to know. I’m checking my Blackberry constantly for new emails or telephone calls, and thinking about what I need to do the next hour, day , week, even month so I won’t forget something important.
I’ve realized my daughter’s behavior is partially a preschooler wanting to test her independence and partially a little girl asking her mom to pay attention. Before I get up to do something, or check email, I am going to try to just be aware. The future can really do a number on me with all its uncertainties.
I'll try not to fight it or myself anymore. Let me just be aware.
N, I love you very much, for your birth, for your entry into my life, and for your perseverance in helping me to wake up to the present. There isn’t anything else, is there sweetie?
As I practice more mindfulness in daily life, and not just while sitting in meditation, I’ve also noticed that I’m a big planner. I need to know. I’m checking my Blackberry constantly for new emails or telephone calls, and thinking about what I need to do the next hour, day , week, even month so I won’t forget something important.
I’ve realized my daughter’s behavior is partially a preschooler wanting to test her independence and partially a little girl asking her mom to pay attention. Before I get up to do something, or check email, I am going to try to just be aware. The future can really do a number on me with all its uncertainties.
I'll try not to fight it or myself anymore. Let me just be aware.
N, I love you very much, for your birth, for your entry into my life, and for your perseverance in helping me to wake up to the present. There isn’t anything else, is there sweetie?
5.13.2009
Renaming Ceremony
Taking things personally can really contribute to suffering. I’ve been trying to figure out why I get so caught up in certain thoughts, and it’s definitely because I am labeling myself Future Worry or Comparison Gal, or even Shame for having these thoughts.
"The ocean refuses no river.
The open heart refuses no part of me."
(Sufi saying)
Isn’t that beautiful? No one is turned away for their thoughts or their beliefs about who they are or should be.
Today, I invite you all to come here and wash away the names you have carried with you all your life. Let them all flow to the ocean, the source of everything sacred and pure.
What name would you have now? I like Gentle One and Mindful Mermaid.
"The ocean refuses no river.
The open heart refuses no part of me."
(Sufi saying)
Isn’t that beautiful? No one is turned away for their thoughts or their beliefs about who they are or should be.
Today, I invite you all to come here and wash away the names you have carried with you all your life. Let them all flow to the ocean, the source of everything sacred and pure.
What name would you have now? I like Gentle One and Mindful Mermaid.
5.08.2009
Opening My Heart
There is enough love for everyone.
It’s as if the Universe has aligned everyone and everything to bring me to this point of awakening in my life. For so long, I have closed my heart to the possibility of enough love, enough happiness for everyone. I have lived in fear, compared myself, felt inferior or superior, and hoarded joy as if someone was going to take my own away from me with their good news.
My mother’s newfound interest in her computer classes and a new friend as well as my husband’s recent love of hiking have left me feeling like I would have less time for my own hobbies. Last nigh at a women’s circle, a member shared her excitement in being part of a relay race. She had also previously shared her confidence with yoga. Instead of sharing her joy, I noticed the weaknesses in my body, which triggered a profound sadness.
The facilitator of the group is also currently pregnant. She has spent her life preparing for this journey, and has taken the time to practice yoga and mindfulness before delivering a child. I was reminded of my inability to be present when N was first born, and all the fear and doubt that hung like heavy black clouds over me daily.
I spoke with one of the group members after last night’s meeting. A part of our conversation made me realize how a comment I had made to her was rooted more in fear and jealousy than genuine concern for her well being. I am truly grateful for all of these lessons.
These realizations have taken me into my past where I grew up with a close friend. She stood tall and erect with such confidence. With a beautiful voice and open heart, she commanded the attention of all in her presence. I always felt like I was one step behind her, running to catch up.
So many things make sense to me now. If I am living with this deep seeded belief that there isn’t enough love to go around, how will I ever learn to stop comparing and start living?
This morning in meditation, I allowed myself to begin the loving kindness practice, first directed towards myself, and then to all the souls who have brought me here to this understanding. Their joys, their triumphs have shown me that anything is possible. Love will find me if I open my heart, if I believe that love does not have any prejudice against anyone.
Let me begin to live my life with more trust than fear, more hope than discouragement, more sympathetic joy for others than jealousy, more acceptance than resistance.
“All things are our relatives; what we do to everything, we do to ourselves.”
Black Elk
It’s as if the Universe has aligned everyone and everything to bring me to this point of awakening in my life. For so long, I have closed my heart to the possibility of enough love, enough happiness for everyone. I have lived in fear, compared myself, felt inferior or superior, and hoarded joy as if someone was going to take my own away from me with their good news.
My mother’s newfound interest in her computer classes and a new friend as well as my husband’s recent love of hiking have left me feeling like I would have less time for my own hobbies. Last nigh at a women’s circle, a member shared her excitement in being part of a relay race. She had also previously shared her confidence with yoga. Instead of sharing her joy, I noticed the weaknesses in my body, which triggered a profound sadness.
The facilitator of the group is also currently pregnant. She has spent her life preparing for this journey, and has taken the time to practice yoga and mindfulness before delivering a child. I was reminded of my inability to be present when N was first born, and all the fear and doubt that hung like heavy black clouds over me daily.
I spoke with one of the group members after last night’s meeting. A part of our conversation made me realize how a comment I had made to her was rooted more in fear and jealousy than genuine concern for her well being. I am truly grateful for all of these lessons.
These realizations have taken me into my past where I grew up with a close friend. She stood tall and erect with such confidence. With a beautiful voice and open heart, she commanded the attention of all in her presence. I always felt like I was one step behind her, running to catch up.
So many things make sense to me now. If I am living with this deep seeded belief that there isn’t enough love to go around, how will I ever learn to stop comparing and start living?
This morning in meditation, I allowed myself to begin the loving kindness practice, first directed towards myself, and then to all the souls who have brought me here to this understanding. Their joys, their triumphs have shown me that anything is possible. Love will find me if I open my heart, if I believe that love does not have any prejudice against anyone.
Let me begin to live my life with more trust than fear, more hope than discouragement, more sympathetic joy for others than jealousy, more acceptance than resistance.
“All things are our relatives; what we do to everything, we do to ourselves.”
Black Elk
5.06.2009
Healing
Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about health and healing. The word healing comes from the Greek word hael or wholeness. The word patient comes from the Latin word patiens meaning one who suffers. In Western or allopathic medicine, most physicians consider health or wellness to be marked by the absence of disease or symptoms. This does not always account for a patient’s total body, mind, and spirit, or their stressful environment.
But how can physicians account for all of this in 15 or 20 minutes? More and more patients turn to alternative medicine and practitioners who specialize in these areas. They are given more time to tell their stories and practitioners can honor their whole being, not just the part that needs to be fixed. Unfortunately, this also comes with a price tag that most insurances do not cover.
I consider myself very fortunate to be working in an environment where I have some flexibility of time, but even my time is limited, and I often feel like I am barely scratching the surface of a patient’s complaint. I will admit that not all complaints need an in depth analysis, and some people don’t want to address the root problem even if I offer the possibility of unearthing it with them. Still, there are others that may want more time to do so, and I need to have them come back or refer them on to someone else who can help them.
Some time ago, I strongly contemplated the idea of training to become a mindfulness bases stress reduction instructor. I decided against it for now given my other work commitments, my daughter, and my own need for more spiritual growth. The other day, one of our clinical nurses asked me whatever happened to the mindful parenting class I was going to offer at our workplace.
As you have already read from my previous posts, I love mindfulness. Out of everything I had tried for postpartum depression and anxiety, mindfulness was and still is the one thing that I turn to again and again for healing wisdom. I would love to teach a mindful parenting class at my work. I am not sure how or when, but I know it will give me a chance to help others heal. Perhaps it will also help feed that part of my spirit that needs to do address the source of suffering rather than temporarily patching up the surface now and then.
But how can physicians account for all of this in 15 or 20 minutes? More and more patients turn to alternative medicine and practitioners who specialize in these areas. They are given more time to tell their stories and practitioners can honor their whole being, not just the part that needs to be fixed. Unfortunately, this also comes with a price tag that most insurances do not cover.
I consider myself very fortunate to be working in an environment where I have some flexibility of time, but even my time is limited, and I often feel like I am barely scratching the surface of a patient’s complaint. I will admit that not all complaints need an in depth analysis, and some people don’t want to address the root problem even if I offer the possibility of unearthing it with them. Still, there are others that may want more time to do so, and I need to have them come back or refer them on to someone else who can help them.
Some time ago, I strongly contemplated the idea of training to become a mindfulness bases stress reduction instructor. I decided against it for now given my other work commitments, my daughter, and my own need for more spiritual growth. The other day, one of our clinical nurses asked me whatever happened to the mindful parenting class I was going to offer at our workplace.
As you have already read from my previous posts, I love mindfulness. Out of everything I had tried for postpartum depression and anxiety, mindfulness was and still is the one thing that I turn to again and again for healing wisdom. I would love to teach a mindful parenting class at my work. I am not sure how or when, but I know it will give me a chance to help others heal. Perhaps it will also help feed that part of my spirit that needs to do address the source of suffering rather than temporarily patching up the surface now and then.
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