Days of Awe

I don't know much about Yom Kippur, but I do know it is the holiest day in the Jewish year, the culmination of a 10-day period that begins with Rosh Hoshanah, the new year. This period is called the Days of Awe. They end with repentance, sacrifice, and purification. Today is the Day of Atonement.

I don't hear that word much, unless I'm reading the Bible or other religious book. Webster's definition includes "reconciliation" and "satisfaction" as descriptors. When I Google "atonement," I get 3 basic items: Yom Kippur, Christian reconciliation with God through the death of Jesus Christ, and the novel and film, Atonement (which is amazing, please see and/or read it when you can).

All discussions of atonement remind us that the original English meaning was literally, "at-one-ment," the bringing together of beings who have become separated. Harmony, peace, and unity are attained. Wholeness is restored.

Restored. That is crucial, because it implies that wholeness and harmony are already present, are the way we're meant to be in community with one another, and with the Divine. (Please substitute whatever word works for you: God, the Force, the Universe, the Way, Nature. The finger that points at the moon is not the moon.) In assessing our mistakes, the harms we have done, our unconscious cruelty and lack of compassion, we are recalibrating ourselves back to how things really are. If we have gotten lost along the way, or traveled down some roads that take us farther from our felt connection with all living beings, we can change direction. Your internal GPS will announce "recalculating," as you move into a restored way of relating to your life.

So atonement doesn't manufacture anything, doesn't produce some special state or mood. It eliminates what is interfering with right relationship. It makes right speech, right action, more likely.

I'm not sure what "awe" means to Jews when they consider the Days of Awe, but to me it points to the amazement that I can be brave enough to look at my failures, selfishness, lack of faith, potential for mean small-mindedness, and my dumb mistakes and say, "Yes. I did all that. I'm capable of some despicable behavior. I am at fault and owe several people apologies." I can see all of it and neither flinch nor be destroyed by it. I can face my frailties, arrogance, fear, and darkness, and when I do, it dissolves. It shows me my growth potential, and it is a blessing to see it. Awareness can hold it all.

The days are getting shorter, the darkness is growing. This is a time of increased looking within, tending the fires for the long cold nights ahead, keeping vigil with the heart-mind. Once I have restored unity with my fellow humans, gotten back on track with the Universal Way, and come home to myself, I move in a fresh direction, full of awe at our innate ability to be One With Another, One With All.

Meditation for today:  May the coming days of ripeness and release bring me the courage to let go of what has been, and may I cultivate the curiosity and fortitude to turn toward whatever is here now, just as it is. I give thanks and praise for unknown blessings already on their way.

Namaste.

Silence: The Loudest Thing in My Head

Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing. And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb. And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance. -- Khalil Gibran

Silence is so freaking loud. -- Sarah Dessen, Just Listen

I'm about to embark on an annual 9-day silent meditation retreat at Insight Meditation Society in Barre, Massachusetts. This has become the cornerstone of my life and ministry. It is spiritual bootcamp, and nothing feeds me like this experience does.  But mention to anyone that you're going on a multi-day silent retreat, and see what responses you get. I'm always surprised at what I hear: "retreat" sounds good to folks, "meditation" is intriguing to most, but "silent"? That seems to stop them cold.

I can't even stay quiet for 9 minutes, let alone 9 days.
     I would go bonkers if I couldn't talk to other people.
          That sounds a little bit boring.

Perhaps it's my years as a practicing Quaker, but to me, the silence is not a problem. In fact, it's the least troublesome aspect of retreat life. It's a huge relief for me -- someone who essentially talks for a living -- to stop speaking. And since we all maintain "noble" silence, where eye contact is avoided and personal interactions are reduced to the bare minimum (nodding instead of saying "excuse me," for instance), I am also relieved of the burden of listening to others. Picture, if you can, 100 or so humans sitting and walking meditation from 5 am to 9 pm, eating together, doing yoga or Qigong, cleaning or cooking together, all without conversation. 

The challenges of being on retreat in this way are supported by the silence, not made more difficult. Because, except for no talking, it's not very quiet. "Silence is so freaking loud." When all the external chatter falls away, I can notice the internal noise more easily. Just as when I sit or stand in balance and I can feel the constant motion, as I alternate sitting with walking meditation practice I see how strong my story line is, how I feed certain thoughts and try to reject others, how my habitual assumptions are operating.

One friend remarked that this retreat must be so peaceful, so blissful. Well, yes and no. I do experience the bliss of directly experiencing reality in a way I don't when I'm in everyday living. There are times that I sense the peace that passeth all understanding (turns out this is the ground of all existence, but that's a different blog post). Mostly I just feel the struggle, the greed, the tension, the rationalization, the repulsion, and the delusion of my life. 

Sounds fun, doesn't it? 

It is, actually. What could be more interesting than investigating your self? Aren't you the most fascinating and important person you know? Who can you truly know, other than you? What is it to be alive, anyway? Believe me, it's the opposite of boring.

Staying with the present moment all day, every day: that is the challenge of a silent meditation retreat. Silence is just the condition we cultivate so that we can show up without ceasing, turn toward what is arising with precision and curiosity, and relieve ourselves of the weight of continuous social interaction. So silence is easy. Continuous, embodied, present moment awareness is not so easy. 

Each year I find the prospect of this retreat a little daunting, but I have come to recognize that it is a gigantic gift I give myself (and all who are connected to me). It's one way I honor myself, because it cannot be done without self-compassion, without turning it all over to the power of love. Pema Chodron describes this as "placing the fearful mind in the cradle of loving-kindness." 

Within that cradle, there is the possibility of radical acceptance, of meeting life just as it is, and being okay with that. Helen Keller, who certainly knew something about silence, said, "Everything has its wonders, even darkness and silence, and I learn, whatever state I may be in, therein to be content." 

Namaste. 

No Comparison

I posted this on my Facebook page today, and it surprised me because I wasn't intending to write anything like what emerged.  Christmas surprise Number One.
Wishing you all many lovely surprises of the season.

As I consider the many many items on my To Do list this a.m., I notice my habit of comparing. What others have accomplished (cookie baking! presents all bought and wrapped!) and what I have accomplished in years past -- thinking about this stresses me out. So why compare what is to what was, or what other realities may exist?

Because let's face it, this is kind of a weird Christmas. The girls are mostly grown up, so no special Santa-related surprises. No staying up super late to be elves and put something together on Santa's behalf. It's raining and 60 degrees. We are not going to A Christmas Carol at the McCarter for the first time in a decade. David has multiple health issues. Caitlin won't arrive until this afternoon. The stockings aren't hung, I haven't wrapped a single gift, there are cookies to bake and cleaning to be done, and we don't even know where we'll be dining this evening...

I'm just not ready for the birth of Jesus.

I wonder if this is how Mary felt. (I'm comparing again, I know.) How inconvenient to have to travel so close to your due date. How unprepared was Mary for labor and delivery in some cave stable, with no blankets or midwives or hot water?

Jesus didn't care. "Ready or not, here I come!" he warned, and out he came. Babies do that, they like to surprise us. Birth is never quite what one expects, which is ironic since we spend 9 months being called "expectant."

So Advent is over and the season of preparation has come to an end. But my home life has not caught up to that fact, so this morning here I sit, sipping coffee and assessing the chaos and wondering how important it truly is to accomplish the items on my To Do list.

Not important really, since no matter what, that child -- the holy, enlightened, pure and radiant being -- will get born. Maybe if I remember that today and stay awake to my life, I will notice and embrace that fact. Maybe I can even embody it.

And for that there's no comparison.

Mindful Interdependence: A Holiday Gift for All

     The holidays bring with them the opportunity to spend time with family and friends. While our relations can be a source of comfort and joy at this time of year, many people experience the stress of potential conflict and unpleasant encounters with relatives they might not be so thrilled to spend time with, but who cannot be avoided.
     Understanding the necessity of being in relationship with others can go a long way towards easing that stress. If you've been meditating and marking your "progress" on an individual basis, you might want to notice how mindful and compassionate you are when you're around other people.  This blog post by Rev. Patti Nakai reminds us that enlightened growth does not happen in isolation, but depends on the connections among and between each of us.  My awakening is intimately bound up in yours.    
     If you can muster some gratitude for your obnoxious cousin or overbearing in-laws, you might get a glimpse of how we're all in this together. Enjoy reading The Tie That Need Not Bind. The amazing photos alone are worth a look.
     Namaste.

November Days of Thanksgiving

November was my month of gratitude, where I posted something I am thankful for nearly every day on Facebook. It was a great experiment and I enjoyed being grateful for everything I could think of, from people, to places, to fundamental elements, and so many other things.

Here's the list I created, with the number of "likes" each post received. I'm sure it depended on which day I was posting, and the time of day, but some posts got a lot more likes than others. Friends education got the fewest likes, and I'm happy to report that my expression of gratitude for my husband David got the most, by far. (Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert came in second!).

What are you thankful for? Meister Eckhart said, "If the only prayer you ever said in your life was 'thank you,' that would suffice." It's been my experience that saying this simple prayer every day has a huge impact on the quality of living. And I'm grateful for that.

November Days of Thankfulness

Thankful today for my family, especially the wonderful visit this weekend from Caitlin and her boyfriend Drew. Also good times with Rachel and her BFF Julie. Food in the oven, fire in the fireplace, deepening mindfulness, and an interview about the AT on the horizon. SO grateful. (9)

Thankful for dawn light this morning as I arose (no more pitch black at 6 am!) and the gold and red leaves that surround me. (8)

Thankful today for the learning and teaching process, this miracle of intimate sharing between people. Thank you Alexis Martin for trusting me with your growth and for keeping me on my growing edge. (7)

Today I am thankful for the body's ability to heal. I am grateful for bodymind unity and inherent wellness, for organic resilience. (15)

Today's thanks goes to mail carriers, delivery people, waitresses, truck drivers, janitors, and all workers everywhere who do the basic tasks that keep our everyday lives functional. (9)

Today I am thankful for my little red car. It's 12 years old with over 100K miles and still runs just fine. It was free, given to us by David's mom when she could no longer drive, and although it is not the car I would have chosen, it serves me well. If you have reliable transportation, be grateful. (15)

Today's thing I am thankful for: My freedom to choose. I have a lot of liberty, both socio-politically, and -- most importantly -- psycho-spiritually. I can choose my reality to a great extent. I often forget this, so today I'm thankful to remember it. Namaste. (8)

Today I am thankful for the Religious Society of Friends (Quakers). No really. (18)

Today I am grateful for WATER. For access to clean, potable water and reliable plumbing, I give thanks. Water is remarkable. It's the only substance that occurs naturally as a solid (ice), a liquid and a gas (water vapor). It's basic and it's something which all living things have a right to. (6)

On 11.12.13 I am thankful for [drum roll please]... the aging process! Yes, it's true. Getting older is a good thing. Even though it's often the reason for my complaints, and some aspects of it can be hard to accept (sagging skin, flabby tummy, arthritis), just consider the alternative. (8)

Today I am thankful for Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert, as proof that civilization isn't completely dead yet. (22)

Thankful for the kind of sunsets we get in the northeast in November. Tonight's was simply spectacular.  (6)

Late-breaking thankfulness: Friends education, specifically George School. (4)

Today's thing to be grateful for: naps! (13)

Thankful Day #17: I am incredibly grateful to have served for two years as Clerk of Bucks Quarter, Rel. Society of Friends (Quaker). I learned so much, met many new Friends and deepened relationships with old ones. This would not have been possible without the expert leadership of Holly DiMicco Olson, Coordinator extraordinaire, and the able assistance of Boris Simkovich, our new incoming Clerk. (And, tbh, I'm thankful to be finished!) (17)

Today I am thankful that I can read and write, and that some people can write very well indeed, and I can read what they write and enjoy it. (14)

Thankful for silence, and the ability from an early age to be able to spend time alone with myself, to find nurture in quiet solitude. (19)

Thankful for BREAKFAST!!! The best meal of the day. (4)

Today I am thankful for forgiveness and for my ability to forgive. (9)

I'm thankful for television. That's right. TV. The vast wasteland. The idiot box. Yep. (11)

I'm so thankful for FIRE and a lovely fireplace in my home. My whole childhood I wished we had a fireplace. I thought well-off people had fireplaces, it seemed like a sign of stability. So here's to being stable and well-off (more or less)! (24)

Thankful for my dad, Robert Ward. Thankful that I can feel grateful for him. (8)

I missed my daily post of thankfulness yesterday. So today I am grateful for two things: 1. Knowing the Alexander Technique and being able to teach it to others. 2. Being part of the Alexander community and having wonderful colleagues who respect and support me. (12)

Thankful that Caitlin is home for the long weekend! (13)

Gratitude on Thanksgiving Day for my growing ability to follow the way as it opens, no matter what. May we all become more available to meet life on life's terms, to be human in our guest house. Namaste. (11)

Today's thing to be thankful for: A new bed!!! My lower back is most grateful of all.  (12)

Thankful beyond words for my amazing husband, J. David Brimmer. He is kind, compassionate, intelligent, creative, a great father, a hard worker and wonderful provider, and in my case, truly my "better half." (45)

Contracting and Expanding

My intention today is to write about our habitual resistance to reality as it arises, moment to moment.  I have been planning this post for a few days, making notes, adding thoughts, imagining it in odd moments of reverie. I was inspired by a series of teachings given by Pema Chodron at Omega last May, entitled "The Marks of Our Existence."

Pema reminds us that life is fluid, dynamic, and always shifting. Ultimately, this is very good news, but we have been conditioned to expect reality to be solid, fixed, and predictable. The essential groundlessness of our existence frightens us, or at best, takes us by surprise, and when that happens, we react by resisting. You don't get what you want, or you get something you don't want. People don't do what they say they will, or they do things you wish they wouldn't. We get worked up or hooked in, we collapse and cave in, we pull back, push away, or grasp at some aspect of what is happening at any given moment. These reactions are experienced physically and mentally as tension. Habitual, unconscious resistance shows up in the body-mind as contraction.

So this morning I sat down at my desk with great enthusiasm to wax eloquent on this topic of contraction and what to do about it.  Then, of course, one thing after another just kept arising, preventing me from getting a start on my writing.  Some of these interruptions were positive, some neutral, and one was very annoying indeed.

My plan was to finish before noon, because I had agreed to take my husband to the hospital for a minor procedure, which required him to have someone drive him home afterward.  I was struggling inwardly as we arrived on time for his appointment, troubled that I had not even begun to write.  I hoped I could drop him off, go home for an hour, and get going on it already. When we inquired, we were told they'd call for him in about 15 minutes and the procedure would only take about 15 minutes, so we decided I should just stick around. Sounded good to me.

You know where this story is going, right?

A half hour later, when they still had not come for him, I decided to have lunch in the cafeteria. In an attempt to cultivate patience, I took my time, used the meal as a chance to practice mindful eating, and returned after about 30 minutes. David was still sitting there.

I won't recount the details of the next part except to say that I did indeed contract.  Like most of us, I am very good at resisting what life throws my way, and I do it regularly. When they finally came to get him, I decided to sit outside in the hospital's meditation garden, and recognized the irony of being resistant to the fact that I was delayed in writing a blog post about resistance. I was able to smile at myself and feel grateful for irony, which is so often my teacher.

Contraction is an opportunity for mindfulness. The practice is simple: when you are contracting, notice it, and then expand. Don't judge yourself for contracting, or even try to stop it. Just contact the contraction, and find a way to open to it, to bring about expansion. This is a core principle of the Alexander Technique, which provides a method for restoring balance and poise to the way we use ourselves in activity.

Closing down and opening up.

There are some tried-and-true ways to expand when we are contracting, including:

1. Open up physically.  Spread your arms out wide and take a big, deep breath. You might not be able to do this in all social situations.
2. Smile. It has to be a legitimate smile, not a phony, mask-like thing. (This worked wonders for me today, even though it was kind of rueful.)  Thich Nhat Hanh teaches "thinking a smile" and so do many Alexander teachers.
3. Speaking of the AT, expansion can happen when you readjust how you're sitting or standing, to allow your spine to lengthen into its full integrity of support.  Notice how your shoulders let go and your breath expands when you do this.
4. Open your sense perceptions. Really see, hear, smell, or feel your body weight in space.  
5. Exaggerate the contraction, then release it.  Some people need to do this because they cannot feel expansion otherwise. It helps to make the tightness even tighter, and then follow the outward direction as the tension releases.
6. Extend kindness to yourself. The resistance is a fear reaction to the reality of our constantly shifting, fluid, and groundless life. It is universal and very fundamental for most of us. Instead of being hard on yourself or indulging in the critical inner voice, why not be kind? Pema's teacher used to say, “Place the fearful mind in the cradle of loving kindness.”

Notice the many strategies you have for resisting life, and contact contraction as it happens.  Choose to expand instead.  Practice this and see what happens.

Welcome to Moving Into Mindfulness

It's time to reorganize and redefine.  This blog, formerly known as Way Opens, is now called Moving Into Mindfulness.  I have changed the title to reflect the new project I am developing of the same name.  I want to separate this ministry -- and I now accept that it is a ministry to which I am called -- from my professional website, Way Opens Center.  The companion blog on that website is specifically about topics in the Alexander Technique and the other somatic energy healing work I do.

Moving Into Mindfulness gives me more latitude to write about my adventures in mindfulness practice, what I am exploring spiritually, and in all other areas of my life. I'll post more personal reflections, stories, dreams, memories, fears, joys, and questions.  Lots of questions.

I hope you will follow me on both blogs, and I hope you will support my Alexander bodywork practice by becoming a client and sending your friends to me, too.  I do need to make a living, after all.  I am entering a period of uncertainty about my so-called career, and I actually don't know at this moment what I will be doing to earn a living.  Will it be in addition to Way Opens Center or instead of it?  Will I have one full time job with benefits or many consulting gigs?  Will I become a barrista at Starbucks or work the checkout line at the local grocery store?  I don't know the answer to that today.

What I do know is that I have turned a corner somewhere. I do believe that my Moving Into Mindfulness project is a response to a call, and I am excited about developing a workshop and series of classes that I plan to start offering as soon as possible. So I am stepping out in faith, knowing that if I stay open to life as it arises and practice accepting life on its own terms, interesting opportunities will present themselves.

I am held, as we Quakers like to say.  I am not worrying about what I will eat or what I will wear or how I will pay my mortgage (to paraphrase Jesus).  I invite you to follow my writing. Looks like it might be an interesting adventure!