Are We There Yet?

My daughter just graduated from Hampshire College (squee! so proud!), and as always I was struck by the word "commencement." As Barbra Streisand says in The Way We Were, "that's a funny word for the end." Of course, commencement ceremonies are called that because the graduates are about to begin the next chapter of their lives. So although it marks the end of an era, it is also just the beginning.

Another word for this is transition. I love transitions because within them we can see our habits of mind and body so clearly. I often encourage my Alexander students to bring full attention to transitional activities, such as walking through a doorway, up or down stairs, moving from car to walking or the other way around. It can be a challenge to practice body-mind unity during an activity, especially at first, but it's pretty easy to shine the light of awareness between actions.

Doing this brings about radical change. Why radical? Because it's the last place we show up. We are always thinking ahead, moving toward something, or away from something. Who brings intention to reaching for the door handle and opening the door? The point (we think) is to get on the other side of the door. So when we intend to be present during transitional moments, we transform habitual "endgaining," as F.M. Alexander termed it, and are awake for the means by which we are acting.

Mindfulness, whether in formal meditation practice or otherwise, shows us how addicted we are to the future. Anyone who meditates sees right away that the mind likes to plan, organize, and control what it anticipates will be coming. This tendency has a helpful adaptive quality, and our ability to scan the horizon for future encounters is part of our evolutionary heritage. But when this is the only way we operate, we suffer.  It is deeply unsatisfying to be constantly looking ahead for happiness, hoping that what we really want can be obtained "someday." This hamster wheel of desire (samsara in Buddhist parlance) keeps us chasing dreams and fantasies, all while missing what is happening in the here and now.

You already know this. You can think of an example from your life right now, can't you?  It's like the little kids in the back seat of a family car trip, asking "are we there yet?" It's like me, obsessively checking my peony plants to see if the blooms are out yet. I caught myself doing this yesterday, staring at them, being kind of critical about how long it was going to take until they opened up. As if their only value is the flowers they produce, and can't they hurry it up a bit? Seriously, how nutty is that?

Yet this is how we are, how we so often relate to our experience of life. And this is why mindful guidance repeatedly reminds us, "there is nothing to do, nowhere to get to, nothing to become." That is absolutely true, if you are in the moment. Yes, the peonies will bloom, but what is even more true is that, in this moment, they are blooming. They are as perfect now as they will be when the blooms are fuller and more fragrant. When I notice how I want them to be in a different state than they are, I can learn everything I need to know about the ways I create and increase my own suffering. Is "suffering" too strong a word for such a small dissatisfaction? Maybe, but multiply that by the hundreds of times a day when I want things to be other than they are, and that adds up to an unhappy state.

Being there during transitions helps with this. Try choosing to bring present moment awareness to something you do every day, like the transition from finishing a meal and getting on with the next thing, or the moments between reading an email and replying to it. Keep it simple, without analysis or expectation. Can you be there, not chasing the next thing but really in transition?  If you can, you will discover the truth that everything is flowing, changing, and dynamically balancing.

Are we there yet? Nope, and we never will be. We are here, now. That's all, and that is enough.

Three Words for 2018

It's that time again, a new year. A new opportunity to take stock, review what has come to pass, and set some intentions for living into 2018. I've been choosing three words to guide me for the past several years, words which point to concepts that support my curious inquiry as I make my way, as I keep learning how to allow Way to open as it will.

My words for 2017 were Simplicity, Power, and Forgiveness. As always, I had endless opportunities to explore each one, when I remembered to. I went long stretches without including these three in my awareness or in direct experience. When I recalled my intentions, however, examples of each were everywhere around me, either by their application or by their absence.

As I knew it would be, Power was absolutely the issue of the day.

Whether in the #MeToo movement, or the dangerous egocentric posturing of the President toward foreign nation-states (toward nearly everybody), or taking a knee on the football field, or even in my own spiritual community, people have been pretty confused about power: what it is, how we wield it, how to get it, and how to hold on to it. On the flip side, there is Powerlessness, the sense that one has no choice, no agency over their experience. I continued to face my own powerlessness over the things I'm addicted to (Step 1 in the 12-Step tradition), and I noticed an uptick in students telling me "I can't" or "it won't work" or other types of resignation. This helped me move closer to the idea that Power is mostly an agreement between one or more people; like everything, it's relational. I cede my power to you, or we share power with each other, "empowering" us. Perhaps that's the social contract we need to maintain, I don't know. What I do know, after a year of considering it, is that true power comes from within.

Sorry if you were expecting some new insight. I can only confirm that what wise teachers have said for millennia is true: there is no real power except what we each possess innately, and there is a power that exists among and between us too, which I call interdependence (a word from 2016). How we use that power is up to us, and even under duress we have the option of exercising our unique agency. This doesn't have to be reserved for big conflicts among groups, like what happened in Charlottesville last summer. It can also be accessed under boringly mundane situations, like when I was sick last winter and could only function in the most basic, simple ways.

It was in that brief illness that I saw the power of Simplicity, and throughout the year I witnessed many instances of how I often needlessly complicate things, which reduces my power. Feeling overwhelmed by too much to do, too many ideas, hopelessly juggling everything in the hope that somehow everything will work perfectly -- this is neither reasonable nor effective. It weakens my actions and renders my good intentions moot. It makes me feel like giving up. The simplest remedy I know, one I keep rediscovering, is The Pause. Pausing adds a little gap wherein I can drop the extra effort or the added plans and concepts and sense what's immediate and essential. On a larger scale, of course we all need to "live simply so that others may simply live." Yet untangling from the many ways I participate in unjust economies and human interchange systems is not easy. When I can pause, I find freedom in the gap, and can make better decisions about what to participate in, and how.

When I don't remember to pause and give space to present moment reality, I mess up or I miss the mark because my aim is off (a classic definition of "sin"), or I'm just not there as my life unfolds. That's where Forgiveness begins. In researching forgiveness and what it means, I was reminded of the wonderful work of the Greater Good Science Center in Berkeley. Their website is an incredible resource, where I found several helpful articles about forgiveness, like Eight Essentials When Forgiving. GGSC not only provides instructions about mindful practices on myriad topics and issues, but also includes the reasoning behind the practice, the evidence for why it works, and the sources of that evidence. The forgiveness practices are long-term and intensive, because forgiveness isn't easy, and it's a process, not a destination. It's important to remember that forgiveness is for the one extending mercy, not for the one who is being forgiven. Jack Kornfield explains this with a powerfully moving story in this short video, also from the GGSC website.

I was able to forgive a lot this year, and I feel pretty good about that. The good feeling isn't pride or satisfaction with "self-improvement." It just feels good to forgive someone, even myself. Letting myself off the hook, lowering the bar, radically accepting my many flaws and screw-ups allows me to also do this with others. Forgiveness doesn't eliminate the need for accountability or consequence, it just dissolves the weight of whatever burden one has been carrying, and the sticky ties one has to the person one is forgiving. Forgiveness is liberation.

Thus it was a big year full of big changes, consistent practice, and continuous learning. 2018 is shaping up to be even more so, and to navigate whatever it will bring I have again chosen three guiding words:

• Renunciation
• Appreciation
• Faith

What arises for you as you read these words? My next blog post will be an examination of each one, and why I chose them. 

In the meantime, I'll be busy spreading the word about Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction class (starts on January 28!), Alexander Technique lessons, and Qigong practice. I'll use the simple power of forgiveness as I share.

The Light in me honors the Light in you.

It's Like This Now

The thought manifests as the word;
The word manifests as the deed;
The deed develops into habit;
And habit hardens into character.
So watch the thought and its ways with care, and let it spring from love
Born out of concern for all beings.  - The Buddha

On Sunday I returned from a 9-day silent meditation retreat at Insight Meditation Society. I intentionally didn't listen to the news on my drive home, wanting to preserve as much as possible the continuity of awareness and mindful power I'd worked so hard to cultivate. I sensed that something socially or politically significant had occurred while I was off the grid -- these days that's a pretty safe bet --but whatever it was, it could wait until I got home.

When I heard the story of what happened in Charlottesville, my first reaction was to open my heart and send wishes of loving-kindness to all involved. I felt sad and deeply disturbed, and once again wondered what it must be like to view everyone who is different from you with suspicion and hatred, to be so threatened by difference that you feel the need to dominate and destroy. Thus I included the fascists and neo-Nazis in my on-the-spot metta practice, because I had just heard my dharma teacher say multiple times a day, "everything belongs" and "be willing to include."

I wish I could say the story ends there, but it doesn't. That attitude lasted about half an hour, until I heard Trump's remarks about how some "very fine" people had been among the "alt-right" group, and that there was blame on all sides. I heard this person -- whose number one job requirement is to represent and protect all citizens -- defend hatemongers who seek to destroy our democracy, and I watched a slow-burning fury begin to grow in my belly. The anger that arose within me at that point has grown exponentially over the past few days, coming on me in waves that require me to sit right down and feel, breathe, let go. Can I get inside the head of a neo-Nazi? No, thankfully, but I sure know what rage feels like, I know the urge to smash something, to want to see someone punished, and punished cruelly. And when I look intimately at that rage, what I find is fear. Sticky, searing, life-choking fear.

That's why they're called terrorists. They act from fear and incite fear and misery in others.

So Trump won't call them terrorists, but I will, and so will anyone who can tell the difference between love and tyranny.

Still, what are we supposed to do at times like this? How do we speak the truth and hold haters and their apologists accountable, without adding to the violence and terror? How do we work with the rage within and without?

My Buddhist teachers would say, "turn toward it," "allow it to be however it is," even "say yes to it." Wha!?! Say yes to neo-Nazis? Say yes to hate? That just doesn't sound correct, not at first anyway. But what that really means is to accept whatever is, however it is, in the present moment. Then take appropriate action. If something is unacceptable, if harm is being done and you can stop it, by all means please do. But do it skillfully, consciously, humbly. I may not be a terrorist, but I've got the capacity for a whole lot of manic bitterness and violence, and if I don't know this about myself it will manifest somehow. If I can't move in close to my fear and let myself feel it without judgment, it will become the driving force that determines my conduct and my speech. I have learned this through experience.

A recurring meditation instruction from Mark Nunberg is, "Something is being known. It's like this now. Can that be okay?" The "okayness" is not about the object being known, but about the way I'm relating to it. Can I be okay with how afraid I am, how angry I am, how much grief I feel? Yes. I can say yes to these true facts, moment by moment. And the interesting thing I have observed is that turning toward these energies as they arise within me often diminishes them. The powerful urge to kick Christopher Cantwell in the balls or to see Trump humiliated and thrown out of office is not a solid thing; it is an energy that changes, impermanent like everything else. It's unpleasant, and not very peaceful or loving, but I see it. I'm beginning to know its ways, make some space around it so it can't take hold, can't push me around anymore. In this way I create choices, can take effective action, or no action if that is what is called for.

It looks like the violence in Charlottesville is just the beginning; at least, that's what the fascists are promising. So we absolutely must be ready to stand up to this hate, act in love and faithfulness, be willing to make sacrifices, and find a way to unite so that we can make a world where "everything (and everyone) belongs."

It's like this now. Are you willing to include?

On-the-Spot Ways to Not Freak Out

Last week I found myself in a challenging situation that felt like a crisis, in spite of knowing that it wasn't -- at least not yet. My husband, who has a history of heart problems, was experiencing dizziness and other symptoms that might have indicated another heart attack, so a friend took him to a nearby ER. I got a phone call to consult about whether the ER visit was necessary, and I agreed that it was a good idea. During this discussion I was a model of calm concern. I remembered to stay grounded in my body, to breathe, to listen carefully. My dear one was in New York City and I was in Philadelphia, so it made sense to wait for a report from the ER before deciding whether to take any action, like hopping the next train to NYC.


I don't know about you, but waiting patiently is not my strong suit. Having nothing constructive to do feels helpless, and that is not a feeling I enjoy. I did what I had been doing, which is to breathe, send positive healing energy to my husband and those caring for him, and get back to the tasks at hand, hoping to be distracted from the supremely unhelpful running commentary in my mind.

At one point I had the bright idea to post on Facebook: What is your go-to method for letting go of worry when there is zero you can do about a scary situation?
I got a lot of very interesting answers, and many of them are listed below. Some are religious or spiritual, some are body-based, some are more psychological. These are practical, easy things anyone can do under stress, and I thank everyone who replied on my Facebook page.

And hallelujah, it wasn't a heart attack. Just a wakeup call.

Coping Methods (in no particular order):

• Breathe.
• Pray. 
• Once when I was scared for someone, I sat through the fear and wrote them a letter. I never mailed it, but the duration of the focus was a true "Holding in the Light." Now I do that by coloring and drawing too. You could do it with movement.
• A prayer I use is "God is with me now and all is well." Also, say the name Jesus repeatedly.
• Something I've used with some success is the idea that if there is no solution, it is not a problem but rather an event -- like, say, a rainstorm. Problems have solutions that require planning and sometimes can benefit from a bit of timely worry.
• I try to stay very present. Wash hands, feel temperature, etc etc....keep coming back....and of course breathe.
• Going for a run.
• Do an activity you enjoy - reading, crafts, TV, walking, etc.
• Put on a song I love and focus on the music. Breathe with it.
• Placing yourself firmly in the present can help. Rub your toe into the floor to remind yourself where you are. Grasp something small, whatever is close by.
• Say the Serenity prayer.
• I remember I am never alone, whether I simply visualize love and support from my community or reach out like you are doing now.
• 4-7-9 breathing. From Dr. Andrew Weil. Breathe deep to count of 4. Hold to count of 7. Exhale to count of 9.
• Look at the big blue sky. Makes every worry seem small.
• Worrying is praying for what you don't want; it is always better to just pray.
• Herbs that ease anxiety and fear - motherwort, oatstraw, nettle, skullcap.
• Under the circumstances, let the rain wash it away. [It was pouring on this day.]
• Looking at what is the worst case scenario and asking if you can survive it. Thank Mother-Father God for giving you the strength to deal with it.
• Trust my gut to take the next step. I choose to take one step at a time without trying to figure out an ultimate solution. I remember I'm not alone.
• Relax your pelvic floor. You will feel better immediately.

I put my favorite one last. I cannot tell you how often that has made all the difference for me. I know it's not helpful or even necessary for others, but I'm so grateful to my Alexander colleague for reminding me of this.

Next time you feel like you are in a tough situation that is out of your hands and all you can do is wait for more information and then be ready to act -- try one of these methods. Or combine several: Breathe and look at the big blue sky and relax your pelvic floor muscles while you remember that you are not alone. And ask for help on social media; people just love giving advice!

The Second Arrow

Because of the particle-like nature of consciousness, we can enter the space between instinct and action, between impulse and reaction. To do so we must learn to tolerate our pain and fear. This is not easy. . . .  We must learn the difference between reaction and response. . . .  When someone cuts us off in traffic, we can angrily retaliate by racing up to them shouting, trying to get back at them, or we can breathe and let it go. When we are criticized, when we are betrayed, we don’t have to reinforce the pain of the situation by adding to the pain by our reaction. -- Jack Kornfield, Responding With Love and Courage

Jack goes on to describe this personal reactivity as "the second arrow," a classic Buddhist description of what we do when in conflict or some other negative situation. Something painful happens, and it's like being shot with an arrow. Then we habitually, unconsciously pierce ourselves with another arrow, causing extra, unnecessary suffering.

"Unnecessary" is the key word here; we do not have to reinforce the pain. Alexander lessons, meditation practice, Qigong and other forms of mindful movement, all offer the opportunity to unhook from this automatic reaction, over and over again. At first, and always, it's necessary to see this happening. Like most habits, we become so used to judging ourselves and others that it feels normal, even unavoidable. You can't change what you don't know about, so waking up to the habit comes first.

When we look, we see that we do this quite consistently, so it's useful to recognize how reactivity operates, dominating our lived experience. As Jack points out, this requires the willingness to tolerate challenging emotions: pain, fear, disgust, loneliness, powerlessness, [insert your favorite unpleasant emotion here]. Our aversion to be with these feelings comes in many forms, but it needn't be acted upon. We can pause and attend to the space between the stimulus and response, the urge to react and the reaction itself.

The freedom to make new and better choices in response to whatever arises is a hallmark of the Alexander Technique. Those who study it soon discover that what seems like a little pause is actually quite spacious, that a momentary stop provides enough power to see, sense, and switch off harmful habits of thinking and moving. In meditation, as steady attention is cultivated, it becomes very easy to see how we add extra pain to painful situations (by pushing away or running away), or ruin pleasant experiences (by grasping and greed).

So what is the cumulative effect of practicing the pause, of finding the gap and waiting there? Sylvia Boorstein describes it this way: 

If I want to free myself from endless cycles of struggling..., I need to keep rediscovering that the pain of the struggle is greater than the pain of the desire. If I develop the habit of restraining myself, I'll enjoy the relief of feeling the desires pass, and I'll remember that desires are not the problem. Feeling pushed around by them is. I'll continue to have desires, of course, because I'm alive, but they'll be more modest in their demands. 

I don't know about you, but I often feel weary of being pushed around by my own reactivity; it wears me down. I have experienced the liberation that comes from turning toward my pain and pausing there, the freedom to notice that I'm wounding myself with the second arrow, and stop.

Giving Thanks

Living is tentative and uneasy for many of us right now, especially in the U.S. Gratitude helps so much. It's like a magic energy that alchemically transforms scarcity into satisfaction, half empty into half full. Luckily, we have a whole day dedicated to giving thanks.

Today I am grateful for:

My passion.  When I resonate with something or someone, I’m all in. I may not always be disciplined or consistent, but I am wholly dedicated to whatever inspires me, and I enjoy bringing my total self to the endeavor or the relationship. I give my all. I show up, and keep showing up. For my ability to turn desire into dedication, I’m thankful.

My family.  I’m lucky to have a husband who keeps loving me and growing in companionship, and two absolutely beautiful daughters who are kind and funny, smart and insightful, emotionally sensitive and socially aware. My father, who at 90 continues to seek understanding and healing, has given me a strong spiritual foundation for life as well as an appreciation for nature and the beauty of this world. My brother taught me how to be strong and resilient, and to trust my intuition. My nieces and nephews astound me with their ability to forgive and to develop unconditional love. They are also super creative and persevering in all they do, which gives me hope for the future. Thank you.

 

My spiritual family.  These are my closest friends, advisors, mentors, and cheerleaders. They listen when I ask, are not afraid to call me on my foolishness and wrong thinking, encourage and pat me on the back, give me gifts and let me give to them in return, and generally help me remember to play and be goofy while I still can. Maybe we’ve known each other since high school, maybe we just met last year, but we connect authentically in the heart space (see #1 above). You know who you are. Thank you.

My gifts.  I am an experienced, talented hands-on healer, an engaging and skilled teacher, and a decent writer and editor. I enjoy connecting people with one another and creating networks of learning and support, and I can organize events with the best of them. I am never happier than when I’m planning a workshop or writing a lesson plan or refining curricula. Nerdy but true. My singing and dancing is mediocre but on a good day I can engage in them with gusto and abandon, which is half the battle. For the gifts I was born with and those I’ve worked hard to develop, I’m thankful.

This life.  I feel so grateful to be drawing breath right now, this very minute. My dharma teacher, Mark Nunberg, tells me that there are only two things to ask when I sit to meditate:  1) Am I interested in what’s here right now? Can I cultivate some curiosity about how it is? 2) Do I care about this life which has been entrusted to me? Can I cultivate some compassion for this being?  For my ability to remain interested and caring, both on and off the cushion, I am thankful.

Wishing you and yours a happy Thanksgiving Day and the ability to feel genuinely, deeply grateful for all the many blessings of this human life. Claim them. They are yours, and no one else can know

them and live them like you can.

Namaste.

Surviving Skillfully

For many years now, I have been learning and teaching that mindfulness is a skill. It is not a state of bliss, or wisdom, or mastery, or even clarity. These states may result from mindful living, but mindfulness itself is a skill set that we apply with intention to meet whatever is, however it is, in the moment.

This is simple, but it's not easy. That is why there are a variety of practices that we can engage in to foster and develop our understanding of the skillful means available to us. A short list might include formal meditation (sitting, standing, walking, lying down), mindful movement (qigong, yoga, Alexander technique, tai chi, aikido, etc.), communication practice (NVC, peer counseling, compassionate listening), and reflective writing and art-making.

In a recent newsletter I discussed the acronym RAIN, and how it guides the process of turning toward our experience in order to be with it mindfully. RAIN is most useful at times when one feels overwhelmed with emotion, or confused, or otherwise thrown off course somehow. (It works beautifully in ordinary moments too, but we don't typically feel the need to navigate those moments as carefully.) To recap, RAIN stands for:

R -- Recognize
A -- Allow
I -- Investigate
N -- Not Personal, Nature

Many teachers have offered this RAIN guide. Tara Brach uses it quite a bit in her teaching, and has several examples of how it can work individually and in relationships. I have used it successfully many times, as a way to utilize the skill of mindfulness that I am cultivating, and I'd like to share an example of how it is of great use to me right now, today.

Perhaps only a few of you know that I am a survivor of childhood sexual abuse and, as a young adult, date rape. Even as I type that sentence I am using RAIN.

• I am Recognizing the strong sensations that arise in my body, accompanied by thoughts like, "Don't say that publicly. Find another example!" Feelings of embarrassment, shame, fear, and vulnerability are here. 
• So I Allow them to be present, don't fight, accept to whatever degree I can. It's actually okay to be with those feelings and thoughts, because 
• When I Investigate, I find that I have felt this way many, many times, and essentially these are just insubstantial thoughts, and physical sensations in the body. And they are changing. They have a pulse, a texture, a duration. Like everything else we pay attention to in meditation (breath, sounds, etc.), these strong and mostly unpleasant feelings arise, stay for a while, and then change or disappear. 
• I don't need to get caught in the experience, I can know it as Nature arising. I've just shared an intimately personal truth about myself, which breaks the rules of my conditioning, big time. Of course these thoughts and feelings will arise. It may sound odd, but the truth is, this is not happening to me. But I can be with it as it happens.

Okay, to be honest, I'm still working on that last one. It is difficult to stop identifying with my experience. Yet all the great spiritual teachers remind us that we must. Joseph Goldstein says, "the Buddha summed [everything] up in one essential teaching: Nothing whatsoever is to be clung to as I or Mine. This is not a philosophical statement, it is something for us to practice, to realize, moment to moment. This is the practice of freedom."

As a survivor of sexual abuse, the past several days have been severely challenging. Beginning with the release of the recording of Donald Trump bragging about how he can get away with sexual assault because he is a celebrity, to the onslaught of reactions to it, the jokes and discussion on social media, and culminating in that violent war of words we called a "debate," I have been strongly triggered and retraumatized. Maybe you have been too. Chances are good that about 30% of you reading this are also survivors. The rest of you know someone who is.

And I can live through these upsetting, truly hideous personal reactions because I have a skill set called Mindfulness. I have gathered and used many tools for 30 years or more, picked up along the way in psychotherapy, bodywork, 12-step groups, religious practices, and other sources which have helped me heal and restore wholeness. But daily mindfulness practice is really paying off right now. I don't like being triggered, but it no longer needs to run my life or even be a problem.

An acronym like RAIN is a hook to hang our hats on. It's a go-to process that we can access (dare I say cling to?) in difficult moments. It prevents us from reacting unconsciously and engaging in old harmful habits. Even better, it helps us wake up and see when we're reacting out of our old unconscious habits, and stop. 

----------------------------------

Interestingly, the name of one sexual assault hotline is RAINN, and if you need someone to listen and help you, please call 800.656.HOPE (4673).