Mermaid

3.8 Years

2009-07-07T21:31:00.000-07:00

I want to thank Angela for reminding me of a topic I have been meaning to post for some time.

Childhood.

Looking back at my previous posts of N, they have mainly been about my difficulties and insights of motherhood. I rarely ever talk about the joys of N’s continuous childlike wonder with ordinary experiences. So here goes.

She loves jellybeans. You can tempt her with Indian sweets, ice cream, snow cones, chocolate, cake, etc, but in the end, she will always ask for jellybeans.

After she finishes her snacks and meals, she loves to ‘ride horsy’ on her booster chair. She can just swing back and forth forever without needing to be entertained with anything else.

She knows how to thoroughly enjoy each moment without being rushed. Even after she has slept for 11 hours, she still loves to come to our bed to sleep with her blanket or curl up on the sofa for some extra minutes of rest before beginning her day. Also, most other children have finished their slice of birthday cake at a party while N is still working on the icing.

She knows just how to test our limits, and when she sees that our facial expression of mannerism with her has change, she sweetly asks, “Are you still with me?”

She doesn’t walk. She jumps, gallops, and runs. She loves the idea of being chased, and doesn’t run to get anywhere. All of her moves are for one purpose, to have fun.

She loves to play with water. If we didn’t put any limits on water play indoors, we would probably be swimming after each hand wash and bath.

“While we try to teach our children all about life, our children teach us what life is all about.” ~Angela Schwindt

N, you will grow older and change. May you continue to live in wonder.

Trying Again

2009-07-04T09:20:00.000-07:00

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.”

Mind and Heart

2009-06-30T14:33:00.000-07:00

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.

It's like this.

2009-06-24T10:18:00.000-07:00

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.

Her name was Miss Bruggemann.

2009-06-17T12:51:00.000-07:00

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.

i am

2009-06-15T19:01:00.000-07:00

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

Reflections on change, guilt, and letting go.

2009-06-09T12:07:00.000-07:00

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.

All My Children

2009-06-01T20:13:00.001-07:00

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.

Dear Daughter

2009-05-26T10:26:00.001-07:00

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

Why are you here?

2009-05-23T08:49:00.000-07:00

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?

N's gift to me

2009-05-19T17:28:00.000-07:00

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?

Renaming Ceremony

2009-05-13T08:28:00.000-07:00

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.

Opening My Heart

2009-05-08T13:05:00.001-07:00

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

Healing

2009-05-06T17:24:00.000-07:00

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.

Make Me a Witness

2009-05-03T14:42:00.000-07:00

A good friend of mine was going to come over, and we had made plans to take my daughter, N to the park. As Nature would have it, it was cloudy with some light rain, and my friend had called to inform me that she was ill and would not be coming.

I was disappointed, but found it odd that I was taking it rather well given my anticipated excitement all week for this day to come. But as the day progressed, I could not shake a deep feeling of sadness and fear. Thoughts began to tell me stories I didn’t want to believe. “You’re friend doesn’t care about you. She has better things to do. Maybe you said or did something wrong the last time you were with her.”

I chose to take a deeper look at those thoughts. What pattern could I make out of those thoughts? The words ‘never good enough’ began to emerge.

I realized that I’ve felt this way many times before. My mother’s pleasant or unpleasant facial expressions, my husband’s display or absence of affection, my daughter’s good behavior or misbehavior, and my patients’ contentment or dissatisfaction were all dependent on me.

Or were they?

*****

I stand at the water’s edge. The tides flow towards me with each in breath, and recede with each out breath. The rhythm is so soothing, so natural to me. Sometimes I can see that the elements of water, wind, and sand are moving right through me as I am invisible, vast, beating with the heart of the ocean.

I see that I do not control outcomes. I see that I can be a witness to this thing called life where we celebrate joy and struggle with suffering, where happiness is often dependent on outside conditions.

I see that when I am good enough, I am no longer a person, but a seashell whispering the unforgettable truth of the ocean to all I meet.

We are all good enough.

Love Me As I Am

2009-04-29T07:34:00.001-07:00

She was a young woman in college. She drove through a yellow light, but stopped at the next one. That was when she was rear-ended.

In the days that followed, she began to feel the discomfort in her mid-back. In the years that followed, she wondered if the pain was from the accident, from years of studying, from inflexibility, or a combination of all three. Was it responsible for her heartburn and a spiritually closed heart in times of distress?

Now in her mid-thirties, she sat will all of this last night in meditation. She pictured the young woman crying. Out of nowhere and somewhere, the Buddha himself appeared before her and joined hands with her family and friends. The circle of healing energy around her was strong. She could feel it open her heart, just enough to let the following words be seen, heard, felt, and known.

“Love me as I am.”

Each ache in her body, each new moment, was asking this of her. She knew this was an important step in her journey.

Love me as I am.

Letting Go

2009-04-27T15:09:00.001-07:00

When I am paying close attention to my body tensing or that “Oh, no!” feeling in my heart, I find a pattern of holding on to some idea of the way things should be or how I should be in that moment. Today was a beautiful example of how I can create some space for myself and relax when I let go.

Monday mornings are usually marked by some drama in getting N (my daughter) ready for school. This morning was no different. She didn’t want to wake up, and didn’t want to be told to keep eating her breakfast. Mindfulness and compassion for her plight certainly helped me to be patient and gentle with her.

But when she kept jumping up and down and wanting to play while I helped her get dressed, N was really testing my mindfulness and compassion. I felt my neck and shoulders tense and my heart say, “Oh, no!” There was also another whisper that asked me to let go of control and the idea that I was solely responsible for N cooperating pleasantly with the ‘getting ready for school’ routine.

After I dropped her off at school and showered, I met a friend for a hike. I was sharing some fear I had about going into work tomorrow. Lately, work has been busy, and performing physical exams for patients has been physically and emotionally exhausting. I have been contemplating the idea of beginning the office visit with something like, “A patient’s biggest frustration is not feeling heard by his/her physician, and a physician’s biggest frustration is not having enough time to complete what is asked of him/her. I’d like to do this exam well. If you have any concerns you’d also like to discuss, we will need to address them at the end of the visit, or, we can address them now and defer the physical for another time.”

What can I let go of in this scenario? I can let go of my patient’s reaction to this. Maybe some will be frustrated, but I’d like to believe that my genuine care of the patient and myself will be met with gratitude and understanding.

This afternoon as I was making lunch for N and myself, I was also trying to put the dishes away, start a load of laundry, and clean up everything N had brought home from school. Again, I found that my body was tense and I was closing my heart. My mom usually helps with lunch, but was away taking much needed time off to care for herself. I began to tell myself stories of how she should be here or how this should be easier, but again, a voice asked me to think of something I could release. I could release the stories; I could let go of my belief that I was alone and could not handle everything.

Letting go is such a beautiful exercise in awareness of thoughts that imprison us and a faith that sets us free. We are all held in the loving arms of this Universe. We can choose to believe we are doomed or destined for great things.

May I let go of control.
May I let go of guilt.
May I let go of outcomes, and the belief that I am solely responsible for those outcomes.
May I let go of all of the stories that weigh me down to make room for all the stories of love .

May we all let go of something.

In Silence

2009-04-22T13:51:00.000-07:00

It's also helpful to realize that this very body that we have, that's sitting right here right now... with its aches and it pleasures... is exactly what we need to be fully human, fully awake, fully alive.

~Pema Chodron

****

This cushion is a rock
the body in pain
joints aching, muscles tense
begging for the sound of the bell
the promise of release

This cushion is a lotus
the body floating
on the surface of peace
rocked gently by the currents
of inhalation and exhalation

Isn’t life like this?
as hard as a rock
as soft as a lotus
the heart closing
and opening
and closing
and opening again

Still I sit
wanting to leave
wanting to stay
knowing
I wouldn’t change a thing

****

If you would grow to be your best self,

Be patient, not demanding,

Accepting, not condemning,

Nurturing, not withholding,

Self-marveling, not belittling,

Gently guiding, not pushing and punishing.

For you are more sensitive than you know.

Mankind is as tough as war yet delicate as flowers.

We can endure agonies but we open fully only to warmth and light.

And our need to grow is as fragile as a fragrance

Dispersed by storms of will

To return only when those storms are still.

So, accept, respect, attend your sensitivity

A flower cannot be opened with a hammer.

~Daniel M. Mead

The Best Birthday Present

2009-04-10T08:00:00.000-07:00

Some beliefs are so deeply embedded in my psyche, that I have had a hard time letting them go.

It is not OK to feel sad, jealous, angry, lonely, upset, etc.

I have been feeling something the last few days, and could not name it till yesterday.

Disappointment.

I have been trying so hard to cultivate gratitude and a positive attitude. I have been a good Buddhist.

Why then, do I still suffer?

I was talking to an old friend last night, and I suddenly saw the silliness in trying to escape suffering.

Suffering exists.

I actually thought if I just gave it my best effort, I would never meet sadness, jealousy, anger, loneliness, or upset ever again. I convinced myself that I was embracing them.

I was actually pushing them away and running as hard and as fast as I could to get away.

They are a part of my life, of all lives. It is so easy to neglect them and wish for joy, good will, connection, and love to replace them.

If I wait just long enough, unpleasant emotions change to pleasant emotions and back to unpleasant emotions just like the perpetual ebb and flow of tides, the change of dawn to day to dusk to night.

There is freedom from suffering.

For me, it’s that small smile on my face, that ‘Aha’ of recognition, that word called acceptance that reminds me nothing is wrong.

The world is as it should be, and I am beginning to understand.

Opening Doors

2009-04-07T12:49:00.000-07:00

Another Reason Why I Don't Keep A Gun In The House
Billie Collins

The neighbors' dog will not stop barking.
He is barking the same high, rhythmic bark
that he barks every time they leave the house.
They must switch him on on their way out.

The neighbors' dog will not stop barking.
I close all the windows in the house
and put on a Beethoven symphony full blast
but I can still hear him muffled under the music,
barking, barking, barking,

and now I can see him sitting in the orchestra,
his head raised confidently as if Beethoven
had included a part for barking dog.

When the record finally ends he is still barking,
sitting there in the oboe section barking,
his eyes fixed on the conductor who is
entreating him with his baton

while the other musicians listen in respectful
silence to the famous barking dog solo,
that endless coda that first established
Beethoven as an innovative genius.

I love the way Collins’ perception changes. The demon dog becomes an inspiration for Beethoven.

The classic hindrances: desire, aversion or ill-will, sleepiness, restlessness or worry, and doubt can be very debilitating. Trapped in one, a few, or all of them, I start to believe that they are punishments for not trying hard enough, not being mindful enough.

I am especially aware of their presence when many changes take place, and I am uncomfortable with uncertainty. I want to know what will happen, and not knowing can drive me to the border of insanity. Cultivating compassion, gentleness, patience, and trust has certainly helped, but I am still suffering.

Last night I listened to a dharma talk about doubt and aversion. It was quite clear that my relationship to the hindrances was causing much of my suffering. Though I know acceptance of these hindrances into my life and my heart is key, I still try to shut them out.

Maybe I can open a door.

Maybe the hindrances are not demons, but actual angels asking me to let go of tomorrow and rest in today. Maybe I can be comfortable with uncertainty.

I am Safe in This Moment

2009-04-04T17:08:00.000-07:00

These new dietary changes have caused a lot of fear to arise. The first few days were fine, but then I started to notice some heartburn, and was really sad that I couldn’t eat certain things. I began to notice that my mind would jump to many future events, and being on call today has been somewhat stressful. (Jan, I picked up those papaya enzyme tablets and hope they work.)

What is going on here?

I initially was hard on myself. “Why can’t you just adjust to all this? Why do you keep thinking about the future?”

This morning, I tried to quiet my mind as best I could in meditation, yoga, and exercise. I realized that I have this pattern of giving a lot of screen time to future events when any change occurs in my life. It’s as if by anticipating and planning, I can protect myself from any future disaster.

I saw that the only safe moment is the present. Here and now, I can breathe and feel the inhale ebb and exhale flow of the tides of air pass through me. There is something so calming about this breath. It reminds me that the future is not here. Only this moment is real.

Being here, I am safe.
Being here, I know all I need to know.

Living in the Light

2009-04-01T13:05:00.000-07:00

Morning by Maxfield Parrish

The first spiritual book I ever read was one called Living in the Light by Shakti Gawain in college. I don’t remember much of the book, but the title seemed appropriate for this post.

As I was getting into my car this morning, I noticed the brilliant display of baby blue sky and fluffy white clouds interspersed with the branches and leaves of trees. I was so grateful for this morning gift. On the way to work as I crossed the bridge, the sun was rising from behind the hills and coloring the water with an orange glow. Another wonderful gift!

I was also listening to some soulful Sufi music where the singers were ardently thanking Allah for his presence, friendship, and gift of life. It reminded me of my childhood and attendance of Christian schools. My first love of music began with Christian songs.

I will turn thirty six next week, and I finally feel like I am indeed living in the light. An active attempt to cultivate gratitude, a positive attitude, and belief that I am loved and safe in this world has done wonders for my psyche.

I met with a nutritionist yesterday, and she made some recommendations that sounded quite drastic to me at first. Give up all dairy and cut down on chocolate. Yikes. Was she serious? Did she know that my parents joke about my brother and I being raised next to a cow or that chocolate is my favorite rescue food? I have now tried soy milk in place of milk twice and whether it is a placebo effect or genuinely real, I feel great! I’m hoping that the few changes in addition to mindful eating will really help my nausea and heartburn.

Mindful eating. This is quite amusing to me, because up until now I’ve raved about its benefits to patients like the hottest new pill that cures everything, but never really followed it myself. At dinner and breakfast, I actually slowed down, paid attention to chewing, swallowing, and taking each next bite. I also noticed the texture and flavor of everything. There is a fear in me that says, “If you eat this slowly, you’ll never get anything done.” Not true. I got to work on time, and even though I am multitasking at lunch while I write this and eat, I am still trying to consciously be aware of as much as I can.

It feels good to finally live in the light more than the dark, and to wake up. Part of me is sad that I didn’t wake up sooner, but I can just imagine what you all will say…

Better late than never:)

PS. If anyone has some good substitutes for chocolate that does not contain dairy, please let me know.

Changing My Perceptions One Gentle Step at a Time

2009-03-28T23:03:00.000-07:00

This was going to be a story about cleaning up my mind in 21 days, but I decided it’s going to be a story about changing my perceptions.

I spent the last week with my husband and daughter on the beautiful island of Kauai. One morning, as our daughter was still asleep, I was eager to share my current project with my husband. I explained that I was trying to change certain thought patterns that have haunted me most of my life. Each night before I would sleep, I tried to think of positive things I said or did, as well as positive things my other family members said or did. I hoped this would help to cultivate feelings of good will towards myself and my family. Each morning as I awoke, I tried to think of specific intentions I wanted to set for the day. Common intentions for me were things like staying in the present without getting caught up in future worry, being gentle with myself, being free from difficult mind states, and loving my body even if it was in pain.

Just as I finished sharing my morning and nightly rituals with my husband, my daughter woke up. I was OK with this, but as the day progressed, I was hurt that my husband did not acknowledge my personal project. I was hoping to hear how proud he was of me, or that he was happy for me, or anything positive. When I shared my disappointment with him, he felt hurt that he was not living up to my expectations.

Later that evening as we went out to dinner, my daughter saw the Jack in the Box character on the TV inside the restaurant, and was immediately terrified. We tried to console her, and even had the TV channel changed to something more pleasant, but it was no use. We initially tried eating outside, but were bitten by mosquitoes. My husband asked me to pack the food and pay the check as he took our daughter to the car. I felt very vulnerable and alone. It happened again as we were having lunch the next day outside, and a rooster kept coming near us. My husband asked me to gather the food while he took our daughter to the car.

I tried to make sense of what I was feeling. So many unpleasant thoughts, “He doesn’t care about me. He cares about our daughter more. Why can’t he listen to me and say just one reflective statement so I know he hears me and understands what I am trying to do? Why do I need to be the one to go back and apologize or see how he is doing?” The attached emotions of anger, sadness, loneliness, and jealousy were no less painful.

In Sylvia Boorstein’s book Happiness is an Inside Job, she explains that when her mind is confused, she tries to connect with herself and/or others again with gentle compassion by asking herself, “What’s going on here? What needs my attention?”

As hard as I tried to do this, the insights and relief from suffering did not come until a few more events occurred. One night, we were bathing our daughter. She does not like getting her face wet or water in her nose. When you combine this aversion with taking a bath in a tub that she is not used to without a bucket, it’s now a big Aversion with a capital A. She cried throughout the whole shampooing and conditioning ordeal, and my husband appeared to be angry. Again as we were boarding the plane home and she accidentally poked her eye against the headrest of a seat while standing to see the rear of the plane, my husband was angry.

In both circumstances, I took her into my arms and used a combination of song, gentle rocking, and recounting of positive events from out trip to soothe her. There was something about the gentleness of it all that finally woke me up from all my brooding. Maybe my husband was hard on himself, and when I told him he was not listening to me, I was cutting deeply into a wound he was trying to heal for himself. I had conveniently forgotten that he took care of our daughter each day while I did my morning meditation and yoga, that he was so lovingly attentive to her, and that he stretched himself sometimes to the breaking point in order to make us all comfortable on this trip.

Maybe I have told myself this story for a long time, that the world is a dangerous place and that even those closest to me don’t care about me. My mother left when I was young. It doesn’t matter that she is here now helping to raise my daughter so that I can heal and understand my past. My husband left me when our daughter was born. It doesn’t matter that he is amazing with her and very loving towards me. I don’t blame myself for this. As human beings, we are wired to sense danger. We then have a choice to quickly run away or stay and aggressively fight it. Some psychological memories are so deeply unpleasant for us, that we relive them again and again in the present moment, and respond to them with the same fear.

I understand now more than ever that my mother and husband never left me. They have always had the best intentions for me. There will certainly be times when I have expectations of them that are unmet. On the island of Kauai and even on the trip home, I met a mermaid with my image swimming in the ocean, and another in a white Victorian dress in my image on land. I met many trees who looked down upon me with such love and pride. They were all proud of my practice, my progress, and my intentions to change my life story into one where the world is a pleasant, loving place where I have more allies than enemies. The greatest of these allies is the woman who is writing this story with courage and hope that her own gentleness towards herself is starting a wave of peace that will spread around the world.

Suffering and the end of Suffering

2009-03-12T14:37:00.001-07:00

Yesterday, my first patient threw me off track. I anticipated a difficult conversation, but tried my best to open to possibilities and empathy for what the patient was going through. The office visit was hard for me. Though I clearly told the patient several times that I did not know the answers to her questions, and also felt she was suffering more because she was looking for specific answers, I was not making any headway. Mentally exhausted by the end of the visit, I am not quite sure how I managed to stay present for the other patients that day.

I awoke this morning with an insight. I initially could not understand why I was suffering so much yesterday. I knew I had had a busy day, but still felt as if I had been blown away by a tornado. What was that suffering all about?

Buddhism often teaches about suffering and the end of suffering. Sometimes I mistake the ‘end of suffering’ to be ‘avoidance of suffering’. I tell myself that if I meditate enough, listen to enough dharma talks, practice yoga, read the right books, and connect with just the right people and teachings, I will figure out The Way, The Design, The Secret. If I just pay attention and get to know all my pleasant and unpleasant mind states, I can know them so well that I can see the lighting before it strikes.

Sometimes I can be so hard on myself. I actually believe that when I experience body discomfort, unpleasant mind states, disturbing dreams, or when something else goes wrong, (like my daughter doing something I don’t expect her to), I have somehow royally screwed up. I didn’t try hard enough. I didn’t pay attention. I didn’t do something right.

I am grateful for that first patient. All the Buddhism and right understanding in the world could not have prevented my suffering. Suffering exists. It is inevitable. My practice helps me to be with it. Sometimes I will stand right in the middle of the world falling apart, and sometimes I will be falling with everyone else.

I don’t have to try so hard. In fact, sometimes I don’t have to do anything, and the storm will settle. There will always be chaos, and I am happy that I don’t need to feel so scared. I don’t need to find a way to fix it or prevent it from happening again.

May we all be open to suffering. Let us not push it away or beat ourselves up for falling. Let us use compassion to stand again. Let us find the love in our hearts that it always waiting there for us when we need it most.

Living Outside our Labels – A Mental Exercise in Kindness

2009-03-10T08:57:00.000-07:00

As I was reading Buddhism for Mothers of Young Children by Sarah Napthali, I was reminded of how I often label my daughter and restrict not only who she can be, but my connection with her as well.

As I awoke this morning, and the fog of sleep was slowly thinning, I had a thought for my mindful parenting group that meets once a month. What if we all did a mental exercise in kindness? I would also like to invite you to participate in this exercise.

Think of your child, your spouse, your parent, a coworker, friend, enemy, or even yourself. Now think of six labels that quickly come to mind when thinking of them or yourself. Three labels should have positive connotations, and three labels should have negative connotations. Next, think of a time when the particular label was not true, or did not fit the description of their actions, behavior, etc.

Here’s an example with my daughter.

Negative Labels:

1. My daughter is scared or fearful.
There are times when my daughter will walk straight up to a dog or other animal and pet them. She will smile up to me and beam, “See Meme, I’m not scared!” We also attended a birthday party last weekend at a bounce house. Again, my daughter surprised me by wanting to slide down a steep slide on her own.

2. My daughter is a slow eater.
There are times when my daughter will eat quickly when she is hungry, or eat faster when I respect her desire for play, conversation, and connection with me while eating.

3. My daughter is easily distractible.
My daughter’s preschool teacher often comments on this behavior as something to improve. I used to take it quite personally, and thought it was something I needed to fix. The funny thing is, when she is deeply engaged with her beads and string, or Lego, I feel like I am trying to break the suction between an octopus and its prey!

Positive Labels:

1. My daughter is gentle.
This one is directly from my mother’s group. I often laugh when the other mothers comment on how gentle my daughter is. They haven’t seen her when I forget to give her a warning before turning off her video, or inadvertently do something she would like to do. My daughter can fill with rage and explode. It is shocking to me, because I am still stuck on the word ‘gentle’.

2. My daughter is a good sleeper.
I’ve often praised my daughter and shared her wonderful ability to sleep soundly through the night from two months of age with other mothers. Over the last week and a half, her congestion and cough have kept her awake on more than one occasion. Because of my rigid expectations, I really suffered because I felt like something was wrong. As a physician, I often tell parents it’s a virus or bacteria, and with adequate treatment will likely pass in its own time. Hello, the same is true for my daughter’s illness!

3. My daughter is sensitive and caring.
When someone is crying on the playground, at preschool, or on our playdates, my daughter walks up to them and sings Twinkle Twinkle Little Star to help them feel better. She also consciously tries to share toys when others want to play with what she has. There are definitely times when she doesn’t want to sing to a crying child or share her toys. When I think about the times when I am also depleted of energy, and cannot offer an empathetic ear to someone who needs me to listen, I understand what my daughter must also be feeling.

I hope that this exercise has been useful for you. It has helped me to cultivate Beginner’s Mind, that mind that is free from preconceived notions of others. It’s like a clear lake where you can see down to the bottom of your own heart without all the mud of judgment. It has also helped me to understand the concept of Impermanence, that things constantly change and never stay the same. Impermanence allows us to reach beyond our own limited thoughts of others and ourselves. It also allows us all to hold hands and connect because we are not stuck in our own tight little boxes.

May we all live outside our labels.