Becoming aware of consequences of shoulding

One of the Buddha's more famous sayings is "You are what you think." Another translation is "What you think you become.” Thus, we might want to pay more attention to the words we use. Today I want to focus on should.

I hear many people using should and shouldn't quite often: "I shouldn't have done that," "I should exercise more," "I should be nicer to myself," etc. We often use the word should when we are beating ourselves up because of our imperfections. But have you ever seen a perfect tree? Every tree has many so-called imperfections. However, the imperfections of trees and most natural objects contributes to their beauty. Imagine a forest where all the trees looked almost identical. The impulse in the natural world is not perfection but rather health and adaptation.  

An important part of changing our language comes through reflection and meditation. One of my meditation teachers named this when she said "I used to think I needed to clean up my act. Now I realize I need to get to know my act." In other words, we need to understand our act, to pay attention to our act.

We know that physical pain is a signal to pay attention whether it's a headache, a stomachache, a sprained muscle, a toothache, etc. Your body is saying that something is happening that you need to pay attention to. I have known many cases where a person ignored pain signals and it then became something serious. So too emotional pain, for example, remorse, regret, shame, anger, etc. You mind is telling you that you need to pay attention to what you did or how you responded in that situation.

Below are four practices that people have found useful with shoulding.

A simple practice that uses gentle persistence vs. force.
When you realize that you are beating yourself up and using language like 'should,' first pause, and try these steps:

• Letting the breath and sensations come to you vs. trying to feel them: bringing a gentle attention to what is happening;
• Checking in with body: softening and relaxing on each exhale.
• Holding with kindness and compassion whatever has arisen;
• Befriending those parts of yourself that are beating you up; Rumi's poem The Guest House is a wonderful reminder: "the dark thought, the shame, the malice...treat each guest honorably."

Paying attention to the consequences of your behavior
Another practice this which was very helpful when I was struggling with my explosive anger came from a teacher who suggested that instead of beating myself up, I might look right at the person I had gotten angry at and see the hurt in their face. That was really 'getting to know my act,' understanding more deeply the consequences of my act!

This can work both ways, for example, feeling your body after you have binged on too many snacks, paying attention to the physical discomfort. On the opposite end, feeling your body after you have been exercising regularly: how does your body feel at this time?

Asking questions to your deeper self
Another teacher added this step in getting to know your act: ask a seeding question, for example, "are shoulds working for me?" We find that should and shouldn't can be useful short-term, for example, "I shouldn't punch that person in the face."  However, I’ve found over time that nothing good long-term comes from shoulds. It's like the Whack-a-mole game: those impulses that we try to suppress keep coming back. 

Self-compassion
I devoted a whole blog post to self-compassion on February 4, 2020. One relevant self-compassion practice is to pause and breathe and then ask yourself: Can I learn to be the kind of friend to myself that I am to my friends? Can I extend kindness, care, warmth, and understanding (vs. self-criticism) toward myself when faced with my shortcomings, inadequacies, or failures?

These are not simple fixes, but part of a long-term process. Most of my negative behaviors are ones learned in childhood, for example, getting angry when things don't go my way, saying "I'm not good enough" when I don't excel, avoiding conflict at all cost, etc. These behaviors don't change overnight, but through gentle and persistent attention.

One person who was finding this new meditation process very helpful was very busy and often struggled about whether to come to the Monday night meditation or stay home and do other things. I suggested this process of not forcing and less shoulding. Over time she became a regular participant. Reflecting on the process, she said, "when I gave myself permission not to come every Monday, I found it shifted from 'I should come' to 'I want to come.'"

So try any or all of the practices mentioned above. What do you notice? If you find other practices useful, please respond in the Comments section below.

Mindfulness toward emotional and physical pain

This summer Emily, who had taken my 8-week course which focused on developing mindfulness toward physical and emotional pain, posted this message on her Facebook page. I am reprinting it with her permission. 

"Waking up terrified something awful is going to happen to one or more my children has been a chronic fear and cause of deep physical anxiety since the night before Nathan went to Kindergarten for the first time. (Silly right? Why the night before the first day of Kindergarten?) I mean, that night I felt like I would have a heart attack I had so much pain in my chest.  I woke up this morning startled at 3:45 am with the same vivid fears and between that first night and now so many other countless times.

I asked Tom Bassarear  at a mindfulness class about this fear after class one night because it plagues me whenever I try to meditate as well.  I’ll never forget how he so calmly and kindly reminded me that the level of anxiety and fear I was experiencing first can comfort me to know the depth of the level of my intense love for my children.

Of course I still was desperate for something to help manage the intensity of the imaginations and fears and he specifically told me to befriend all of those feelings. Rather than try and make them go away, resisting, visualize them like a visitor, there to remind me of my love, invite that visitor to even sit with me for a while and put my arm around them….allowing them space to be there.

Even while I type this I choke up. I practice this each time, sometimes it is more challenging than others, but every time it calms my heart. And the visitor leaves. If it comes back to linger I just hold it again, allowing it to feel even welcomed, and it goes away again.  Tom gave me an incredible gift that night when he said those words to me and handed me those tools. This is the first time I’ve written it down. I hope it helps anyone else who wakes with or can’t sleep because of intense pain, sorrow, or fear.

What you resist, WILL persist. Allow it space to be, embrace it as a friend and feel your heart settle as you thank your “unwanted” visitors for showing up to remind you that you are a living, feeling, loving, sensitive soul."

The “invite that visitor to even sit with me for a while and put my arm around them” is a practice I learned from Thich Nhat Hanh at a retreat. He encouraged us relate to unpleasant thoughts and emotions as we would toward a child who has come to us crying about something. To open our arms and hold and comfort the child, saying “you poor thing. I am here for you” and feeling your heart open to their pain.

The Guest House by Rumi
Most people have been conditioned to suppress and fight unpleasant thoughts, emotions and pain. The Buddha and others have taught a very different approach. During the fourth week of the Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction course that Jon Kabat-Zinn developed, The Guest House by Rumi is read.

"This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
As an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still treat each guest honorably.
[S]he may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond."

By this point in the course, participants have the tools and we can begin to focus more deliberately on this radical notion of accepting what is happening, moment to moment. Acceptance here is not resignation, but rather no longer suppressing and fighting, and instead allowing ourselves to be with what feels so unpleasant. Emily voiced this: what you resist, will persist.

I have written in this blog about my experiences with this notion of radical acceptance: my intense anxiety while traveling and severe back pain.

A monk with typhus
I was recently reading a book by Ajahn Brahm who wrote about living in a remote monastery in Thailand and getting typhus. He was in a small hospital and very, very sick and miserable. The abbot came for a visit and Ajahn Brahm was hoping for some wise words of support. But the abbot simply said, "You'll either die or recover" and then left. At first Ajahn Brahm was devastated, but then "it dawned on me that I had been wanting to get well. I had been fighting the sickness. When I realized that, I decided to stop fighting and let go...In a few minutes I couldn't feel my body anymore...I felt at peace...My mind was still and my body relaxed. I was happy."

My experience in ICU
I had a similar experience after my second surgery this summer to place more stents in my aorta when I was in the intensive care unit at the hospital. I was awakened at 4 am by the nurse who had to check my spinal fluid and my toes and legs. The surgeon had been concerned about the possibility of a surge of spinal fluid during or after the surgery which would leave me paralyzed, so they placed a needle into my spine and drained some of the spinal fluid. For the next two days I was bedridden because of the needle in my spine. After the nurse left, I was wide awake.

I decided to practice the loving-kindness meditation. I first focused this energy on all the sensations in my body for about 45 minutes. Then I focused the loving-kindness energy on my surgeon and his team, on the nurses, and on the other 21 patients in the ICU unit. At one point, I realized that—in that moment—I was very peaceful and happy. That state lasted for some time.

Simple but not easy
This attitude toward the unpleasant is not unique to Buddhism, as Rumi's poem attests. And it is not terribly complicated. Some people get it very quickly. Others, like me, get it over time, and then forget it and then remember it. But all who experience those magic moments of finally letting go can attest to the power of such a radically different way of approaching suffering.

Reflections on upcoming surgery tomorrow

Going more slowly
I could write the whole post on the gifts of having to learn to go more slowly. A few highlights:

• Hearing my slippers slide across the floor and realizing I am shuffling instead of walking
• Misplacing my shoes, phone, eyeglasses, keys, and wallet much less often
• My printing on crossword puzzles is so much clearer and less sloppy
• Flossing my teeth more slowly, actually feeling the floss up and down each side of each tooth!
• More walking and less biking--noticing the incredible beauty and lushness of the trees and bushes while sitting on a bench looking over the waterfall at Ashuelot Park
• When we were visiting our 4-year old grandchild, I had to find more activities that didn't require being so physically active. One day I did "This little Piggy went to market…" on her toes. She giggled and then said "do it again…backwards"! The next day she was doing her wooden Olivia puzzle, saying each letter as she put it in its place. I said "now spell your name backwards." She looked puzzled for a moment and then laughed, remembering the day before. With glee she said "I can spell my name backwards with my eyes closed.” She then named each letter as she picked it up: "A I V I L O." I was able to feel her intelligence, creativity, and playfulness as we explored new ways of being together.

Savoring more moments
Thoroughly enjoying a good meal out with my wife. For one of the few times in 36 years of marriage, we finished our meals at about the same time!

Making the many morning bird songs the focus of several minutes of my meditation.

Stopping to deeply take in a beautiful blooming flower. Here is a photo of a pansy that looked like Yosemite Sam from Looney Tunes. I laughed the rest of the way home. To see it press HERE.

Seeing nature’s many beauties in the walk along the river with different friends:
• Reflections of the sky, clouds, and trees on the water
• Noticing that the algae on a small pond look like an Impressionist painting; for years I have seen the algae as ugly
• Seeing a trail through the algae that was made by a swimming animal, a duck perhaps?
• Hearing the song of a wood thrush

Seeing more clearly
I feel that learning to go more slowly (both my body and mind) has enabled me to see more clearly, something the Buddha called sampajanna: clear knowing, seeing the whole picture.

Yesterday our Monday night meditation group was discussing an article on tough compassion. One example given was speaking up when someone makes a very mean-spirited remark and at the same time having compassion for the ignorance or inner hurt in that person that preceded the comment. One of the members pointed out that what we are being invited and challenged to do is a simultaneous holding of opposites.

This is what I was writing about last week when I spoke about accepting all my thoughts related to the upcoming surgery, both the "positive" and the "negative" thoughts.

This has come up when I feel irritated because my wife is hovering over me ("that's too heavy for you," "that's too much salt"). When I open my heart, I can feel the energy of fear in her also. If something happened, I would be gone, but she would still be here without her best friend. When I can hold both hold the irritation and the love, I respond with compassion.

May we all continue to grow in these and other ways.

The importance of accepting ALL thoughts

I have written before about how mindfulness practices have been so helpful during the past seven months since I suffered an aortic dissection on November 3. The 9 days in ICU, waiting for the delicate surgery in January, and the limitations on my activities since then, including chronic fatigue, all presented significant challenges--and opportunities.

So I thought I was doing fine when I went to Dartmouth on June 2 for a follow-up CT scan. While the surgeon had told us that a further surgery was possible, it was still so shocking to learn that an aneurysm was forming between two of the stents he had inserted in January. I was going to need a further surgery. It would be similar to the January surgery in that it would be laparoscopic and this time only one stent would be inserted. However, it would still be a delicate surgery, with risks.

On the ride home from Lebanon, I was reeling. As I brought mindfulness to my thoughts and emotions, I came to a deeper understanding of what mindfulness really is: it means to be aware of and accepting of ALL our thoughts, even the ones we don't like. During that ride, I realized that since November, I had really pushed aside internal voices like: Why me?, I hate this, this is not fair, I'm tired of this, I don't know if I can go on. I had dismissed those thoughts as not useful and instead focused on being positive and moving forward. On that day those thoughts would not be silenced.

So I tried something different, which initially did not feel like mindfulness at all. I opened what felt like Pandora's box and let these voices out of their cages. Rather than fight them and suppress them, I let them wash over me. At this point, my mindfulness practice was to take a step back and simply be a witness to that swirling energy of thoughts and emotions. The voices said they wanted a break, that they were tired of me trying to be strong all the time. They wanted junk food. They wanted to just watch TV and chill. They did not want to exercise and to meditate. After two days of eating a fair amount of candy and watching almost every sports event on TV, I woke up feeling good--ready to meditate, exercise, eat better. That lasted only a few hours and then back in the dump. A couple days later it felt like these parts of me had felt fully heard and were part of the family again, instead of being ostracized or banished.

When I reflected on this time, I realized that paying attention to these voices does not mean wallowing in self-pity. Rather it has made me more open to the natural feelings of grief, sadness, anger, and despair that are normal when facing a life-threatening illness. This illness has meant major changes in my life--not being able to do exercise vigorously, limitations on lifting objects, and fairly extreme fatigue. It also means that I am at greater risk of another dissection which could happen at any time without warning and kill me. It's like walking around with a bomb inside me that could go off at any time.

Mindfulness practice gives me choices in how I respond. When such thoughts and emotions do arise, I am now meeting all of them with a kind, caring attention, instead of fighting or hating them--most of the time! When I do this, I can see the whole picture, part of which I had been missing for months.

One of the common misconceptions about mindfulness is that it means stopping the thoughts that might be viewed as non-productive. A common instruction during mindfulness practice is "when you realize your mind has wandered, gently bring your attention back to the breath." Doing this simple practice can have a wonderful effect of calming one's mind which is wonderful.

However, when it is at the cost of pushing away or suppressing thoughts and/or feelings that are undesirable, there is a price we pay. Ultimately, mindfulness practice involves not just paying attention, but welcoming all those parts within us--with curiosity, compassion and acceptance. While there are many ways to practice mindfulness, ultimately the goal is to see what is happening more clearly. I have a renewed appreciation for how subtle and challenging this process can be.

Habit energy: What's not working

Today's essay starts with a wonderful story from Martin Seligman, one of the pioneers of positive psychology.

One day he was out weeding in his garden with his daughter, Nicki, who was almost six. Martin is a serious gardener and also confesses that he is not really that good with kids. While he was focused on weeding, Nicki was having fun: weeds were flying up in the air and dirt was spraying everywhere. At one point, he yelled at her.

"Nicki got a stern look on her face, and she walked right over to me. 'Daddy, from the time I was three until I was five, I whined a lot. But I decided the day I turned five, to stop whining. And I haven't whined once since the day I turned five.’ Then Nicki looked me right in the eye, and said 'Daddy, if I could stop whining, you can stop being such a grouch.'"

Waking up on the wrong side of the bed
The other day I got up 'on the wrong side of the bed' and was generating a lot of negative thinking. At one point I caught myself and was able to turn the day around, and this is something that is actually quite accessible to anyone who has practiced the basics of mindfulness.

ACTION/OBSERVATION	COMMENT/THOUGHT
I woke up and realized that because of my sore hip, I had slept on my back all night.	Damn. My back aches.
I got out of bed. The bottoms of my feet were puffy again.	This has been going on for months. What's going on?
I poured some psyllium husks into a glass of water. Some of the medications I take cause constipation, so I take psyllium and use other measures to address this. Today I don't sense much movement in my colon.	I didn’t pay enough attention to fluids and fiber yesterday. Damn.
The bucket under the water filter overflowed onto the counter top.	Damned water filter wasn't made well.
I couldn’t find the pan I use to cook eggs.	Damn. This kitchen is always too cluttered.

Angeles Arrien: what's not working
Years ago I read Angeles Arrien’s description of one shadow side she called ‘focusing on what’s not working.’ I have realized that this is a long time habit of mine, learned from my father. I realized that this habit was operating strongly at this point. I acknowledged that I could continue to be negative or simply acknowledge the 'not working' thoughts and also focus on what is working.

Thich Nhat Hanh: habit energy
In a talk in 1997 in Plum Village, France, Thich Nhat Hahn (also referred to as Thay, which means 'teacher') mentioned "habit energy." He stated that we have positive energies which we can cultivate and we have negative energies which we can transform. The practice “is to recognize the energy of our habits and smile to them. And also to cultivate the new habit, the good habit, until the new habit begins to produce energy." I recommend Thay's whole talk on dealing with habit energy which you can access HERE or you can copy and paste this url into your browser: https://sites.google.com/site/tnhdhamma/Home/test-list/taking-good-care-of-our-habit-energies

Applying these ideas into my own life
For the first several months after my aortic dissection last November, I was so happy to be alive and then happy that the repair surgery was successful, that I was carried by this positive energy. However, in the last month or so I have noticed that a tendency to slip back into the 'what's not working' energy. I realized the other morning that some intention to focus on this habit energy would be wise.

I want to highlight Thay's articulation "to recognize the energy of our habits and smile to them." Thay emphasized that mindfulness practice is not about suppressing those parts of us that we don't like and want to get rid of, but rather bringing that same kind of loving attention to these parts that we would bring to a young child who is clearly upset about something.

So that morning, once I realized that I was being sucked down the rabbit hole of this energy, I just laughed used a practice that Thay had described in another talk. I smiled and said "Hello old friend, I can see you are suffering. Come sit with me." And I felt that part as I practiced loving-kindness toward it: "may you be safe and well, may you be peaceful, may you be free from suffering."

Victor Frankl comes in too
I also remembered that great quote from Victor Frankl: “[B]etween stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom." In that moment, I was able to change my response to my growing irritability. A half hour later when I realized that I had forgotten to pour my decaf coffee out of the coffee pot before making my wife's caffeinated coffee, I just laughed.

Internal Family Systems
It is important to emphasize that it's not just Buddhist practice to deal with negative habit energies with kindness, it is also an essential component of a psychotherapeutic framework called Internal Family Systems which I wrote about in my August 12, 2019 blog post which you can access HERE. I worked with an IFS therapist for some time many years ago to ‘unburden’ my 'I’m not good enough' part.

What isn’t working and what is working
Since that morning last week, I have recognized the "what's not working part" many times each day. Sometimes I catch it early, sometimes not until it's a full blown storm, but I have been catching it more often. One day, when it was particularly strong, I told my wife that I probably should be by myself for awhile because my "what's not working part" was throwing a fit. She thanked me.

There's a lot in my life that's not working now:

• I am dealing with the trauma from the dissection which almost killed me;

• with having so little energy: the other day I went a a small gathering of people for two hours and then spent the rest of the day in the recliner watching TV and then in bed reading;

• with the inability to lift more than 20 pounds;

• with not being able to take care of my garden;

• with having to monitor daily my blood pressure, my fiber intake (otherwise I'm constipated), my potassium intake (the medications I take lower my potassium levels), and more;

There’s also so much that is working, that is wonderful, including two friends who have volunteered to help me with gardening! When I remember and acknowledge what is working, it makes the hard stuff so much easier to deal with.

It's a full time job to be mindful. I’m not planning on retiring from that job soon!

Loving-kindness Meditation and Healing a Relationship

Loving-kindness meditation
One the most powerful Buddhist meditations is the one called loving-kindness. There are many variations but one that I like involves bringing to mind someone who makes you smile or whom you care about and thinking about the love you have for them and the love you have received from them and given them.   The idea is to generate an awareness of this energy we call love, which is always available to us.

Then you say these phrases silently: 
May you be happy
May you be peaceful
May you be free

In case the person is suffering perhaps from a physical disease, the loss of a loved one, estrangement from a loved one, the loss of a job, etc. this modification has been found to be helpful by many people: 
May you have moments of happiness each day
May you have moments of peace each day
May you have moments of freedom from suffering each day

Difficulties with my father
Because I’ve had a challenging and difficult relationship with my father, who recently died, one year I decided to practice this meditation with him in mind for an entire year. 

My father was almost always angry when I was young, and my siblings and I have talked about the physical and verbal abuse. As we got older, we realized that he suffered from PTSD from his many experiences in WW2, and that helped us to develop some compassion and forgiveness towards him.

Even though I knew he loved me and was proud of me, as an adult I received a lot of verbal abuse because he was a very conservative Republican and I was the only liberal  among his four children. It infuriated him that I canceled out his vote every election. I learned over time never to bring up politics, though he frequently would.

Loving-kindness meditation for a year
About 10 years ago after one such tirade on the phone, and we had said goodbye, I had reached my limit. I said to my wife "you know I’m not going to share a tear when that son of a bitch dies" My wife simply said, "you might wanna sit with that," meaning bring that hurt and anger into my meditation. So I did. For the next year every time I meditated I included my dad in the loving kindness meditation: Dad, I wish you moments of happiness each day. Dad, I wish you moments of peace each day. Dad, I wish you freedom from suffering.

Of course I never told my dad I was doing this. He was not terribly thrilled that I had converted to Buddhism. However during our occasional phone calls I noticed a shift. I was less reactive and my responses to his outbursts were coming more from a place of compassion and were more measured, like "Dad this is not getting us anywhere. Can we talk about something else?"

More compassion and tenderness
Sometime after this we had a family reunion to celebrate his 90th birthday. He was still pretty angry and abusive. My two sisters and I decided upon an intervention.  As my dad and I were casually talking, I was monitoring my breath and reminding myself of my intentions in this conversation. Then I brought up the subject. This is how the conversation went:

"Dad, you’ve been angry and upset a lot and we understand that: you can't golf anymore, you’re going blind and deaf, and you’re living in an assisted living center. That would be hard for any of us.” 
He acknowledged this with a nod. 
"Dad, what could we do to help?" I asked.
"I don’t know," he stated flatly.
"What if I called you more often?" 
"I don’t like to talk on the phone and I don’t like to talk for a long time so I don't think that would work," he responded.
"What if we said that it would only be a half hour?  Would you like that?" I offered.
"Yes I would," he said after a moment’s pause.
"How often would you like me to call?" I asked.
"Well not every week," he stated firmly.
I proposed, "how about every other week?"
He paused and said gently that he would like that. 

So then instead of calling him only whenever I felt guilty, I began calling him every other week and continued this for the next six years until he died in February. We would talk often about sports and about how my children and his great-granddaughter were doing. 

Sometimes he would bring up politics and often start ranting. I would let him rant for a little bit, calm my breath as he was talking, and remind myself of my intention to meet his anger not with my own anger or irritation, but with love and kindness. 

A couple years later, my sister who lived close to him was able to persuade him to begin taking an antidepressant. He steadfastly denied that he was depressed, With her doctor's help she said the medication would help take an edge off his anger and anxiety.  He agreed. 

While I am not a big fan of the pharmaceutical industry, in my dad's case it made a big difference. Over the next several years, our weekly conversations were actually pleasant. He would even catch himself at times in the middle of a rant, and the rants became much less frequent. 

When he died, I did shed tears and even wrote an obituary in the local paper. While here were certain arenas we never me on, I am grateful for the work we both put into the relationship that developed and grateful for the practice that enabled me to see him more clearly, more compassionately.

A Work in Progress

This aortic dissection has required me to move more slowly and to pay closer attention to my body (e.g., monitoring blood pressure, eating foods with more potassium, less sodium, and higher fiber). There are potentially high consequences for not doing this, so I have more motivation to pay closer attention than I did before.

Living into this new life also requiring new attitudes:
Attuning as opposed to trying to figure things out
Exploring as opposed to coping and adjusting

I am finding that there are some wonderful outcomes from developing these new habits.

Going slowly
I have learned that I have to limit my activities and monitor my energy. What would normally be a light day—taking a walk with a friend, a Zoom meeting with colleagues, and going to a Pilates class is now a full day. The rest of the day has to be mellower. If I don’t pay attention to my energy, I crash. That simple.

I have learned this slowly. If friends come over and we sit outside talking, my limit is about 60 to 90 minutes. Though I enjoy the company, it really takes energy to have conversation with others: deciding what I want to say, listening, feeling the flow of the conversation. I can feel the energy this takes so clearly now.

Knowing the energy cost of striving
Striving means trying hard to become what/who I think I should become, and I have always tried my best! I was given one clue about striving years ago when learning yoga. I found it challenging to hold the downward dog posture. My teacher gave me feedback but still I struggled. She said, “pay attention to your body and you’ll feel your way into the posture.” Really? It took a few classes, but when I got it, I was amazed.

Last week in my Pilates class, I had a similar experience with a floor exercise where we twist the body to one side while keeping the opposite shoulder on the floor. I’ve struggled with that posture, but last week I relaxed during the posture and was suddenly able to twist more while the shoulder stayed on the ground.

I have also realized (at a deeper level) how much energy it costs to go fast. For example, I have always flossed my teeth and typed as if I am racing to get my best time. It is amazing to feel the floss go up and down each tooth, and my arms and shoulders thank me when I type more slowly.

Attuning
Recently one of my favorite meditation teachers talked about our three intelligences: body, mind, heart and how important it is to attune to them so that they are aligned. Another teacher said that we need to pay attention to that which has heart and meaning. I am doing that more regularly, and I see the benefits.

Last week after two days that were busy for me, but which would have been moderately active days only 6 months ago, I was physically and mentally exhausted and said I was going to take off the next three days. The three days became five as I noticed how tired I really was.

Last night Yvette (my wife) asked our son if he knew how much our almost four-year-old granddaughter weighed now, and he said 34 pounds. I teared up and said, “I’ll never be able to pick her up again.” Right now I can’t lift more than 20 pounds, and while a good CT scan in June might let me lift more, my surgeon has said that I will always have to be careful about activities than can cause a spike in blood pressure, including lifting and vigorous exercise for prolonged periods.

After we got off the phone, I could feel myself spiraling into a depression. In talking with Yvette, I realized that since November I have been attempting to balance between being positive and letting myself be down. While it is important to cultivate gratitude and positive energy, if unchecked this can turn into minimizing ("it could have been worse," "I have so much to be grateful for"). Similarly, while it is important to rest and take time out when needed, it is easy to sink into self-pity, despair and wallowing.

Yvette noted that it takes courage to let yourself down because of the fear that you might not get out. I realize that this past five months has had many situations that were quite traumatic. I need to acknowledge and grieve the many losses that this disease entails. So I’ve gone back into therapy to better explore these energies swirling inside me.

Work in progress
“The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes.” Marcel Proust

I am seeing more things which I wasn’t able to see before because of striving and going so fast. I think we can all learn more about ourselves by slowing down and attuning to the energies of our body and heart.

Choice, control, and slowing down

Between low energy from the aortic dissection and surgery and writer's block, I haven't written here for a while and a few people have emailed to see if I'm OK. I realize that when someone asks me if I'm OK or how I'm doing, one word just doesn't begin to answer it. In one respect I'm doing OK given the dramatic changes in my life that are the new normal: monitoring my salt intake (reading all the labels), taking my blood pressure and medications every day, and making sure to keep my heart rate under 100.

I realize that part of my chronic tiredness is the normal "I'm ready for winter to be over" and "I'm ready for covid to be over." I also realize that part of my tiredness is tinged with some depression at having to let go of so much. There's also some fear about going back into the world, e.g., to the local Co-op, to the local coffee shop. Last Saturday we were invited to a small outdoor gathering for a friend's birthday. The chairs were several feet apart and we were masked. It was such a joyful feeling seeing people face to face.  The next day I felt a bit down, and I realized that I wanted more. I'm guessing this is what many others are feeling too.  

Slowing down
While there is fatigue and a bit of depression, I am also finding it fascinating to actually be moving much more slowly through the world. This may sound weird to some, but for the first time in my life, I am flossing my teeth slowly. I can feel the floss as it moves up and down on both sides of the tooth. I am paying attention. When going fast, I'm already thinking of what's next. I am also catching myself more often typing as fast as I can, fingers flying across the keys, and I can feel the tightness in my shoulders and the back of my neck! I can also feel a more relaxed body when I type more slowly. By walking so slowly on the Ashuelot River I have seen things that I have never noticed in the 30 years I have walked on that path before.

I have written before (12/31/19) about our three intelligences: body, mind, and heart.  I can tangibly feel the difference in my body when I go slower and when I am speedy, and I feel good that these three systems are more aligned and integrated. Yesterday I totally blew it while working on our family's taxes. I recognized it while it was happening, but my desire to finish before dinner was much greater than my desire to go slowly. When I was doing the taxes as fast as I could, I was aware of my irritability when I couldn't find the information that I needed. Especially with something like an onerous task like taxes, I can now feel more tangibly the after effects for the rest of the day--slipping back into an old habit of focusing on what's not working/what's not right--with the world, the country, my state, my family. And by taking a few minutes to just breathe, I can often feel that negative energy dissipate, at least somewhat.

Choice and control
The last blog entry was on choice and this is one of the great benefits of slowing down. When things happen that I don’t like, I can feel my reactivity in my body, my mind, and my heart and then be more aware of the choices I have in how I respond.  My natural tendency is to try to control what I don't like--in myself, in others, and in the world. From having lived in Nepal, I have seen that there are other ways of being with what one doesn't like than simply trying to change it or "fix it." This has been a major gift of mindfulness. For example, some people are talking loudly at 10 pm at night on the street or a neighbor, bordering on OCD, is once again mowing the lawn and trimming the bushes, or a colleague has a voice that grates on me. I, and most Americans, could go on and on about pet peeves. When I visited my dad, the number of times I heard "you know what really galls me is. . ." was in the double digits every day.

I've found the thoughts of two meditation teachers to be very helpful in this quest to be with what I don’t like in ways that keep my heart open, my body less tense, and my mind clearer.

From Winnie Nazarko: "One thing we’re developing clarity about. . .is what we have control and influence over and what we don’t. How do we figure that out? By again and again and again and again, on levels gross and subtle, attempting to exercise control over what’s arising in the body-mind…and usually failing. Eventually the mind starts to realize, “Wait. This is actually suffering when the mind goes like that. Can I let go of that? Can I sit back and be more receptive and allowing?” In order to do that, the mind has to give up trying to implement its ideas of how things should be. But it’s not easy." 

From Pema Chodron: “The circle of compassion widens at its own speed and widens spontaneously. All we can really control is that we choose to show up, we choose to practice, we choose to do the best we know how to do, we practice with the skill that we possess right now. We cannot control the results. We suffer so much less when we realize and accept that simple truth." 

And so I, and we, continue to practice and live the best we can, sometimes happy with the changes we have seen in ourselves and sometimes frustrated. And we continue to practice!

Our choices always have consequences

In every moment of our lives we make choices, from whether to have soup or salad for lunch to how to respond to a made comment by someone. Over the course of a day we make thousands of choices, most of them unconsciously. However, all of those choices have consequences, often huge. Mindfulness helps us to remember this and to pay more attention to these choices and their consequences.

Mindfulness has taught me that when faced with a choice--especially about something unpleasant--it is important to pay much more attention to my responses to what is happening than to what is happening itself. Let me give and unpack some examples.

Three choices in the middle of the night
On many nights over the past four months, I have awakened in the middle of the night in a state of fear and not been able to go back to sleep immediately. I was aware that I had many choices in those moments.

I could do a light body scan or I could simply bring mindful attention to the most compelling sensation—an ache in my leg or the feeling of the back of my head on the pillow. I brought a curious and accepting awareness to that sensation and stayed there until another sensation pulled me away. Whenever I realized my attention had wandered, I simply brought my attention back to my body.

Or I could practice loving-kindness. Sometimes I juiced up the energy of this practice by asking what I was grateful for, for example, I was still alive as a result of medical intervention, I had a bed, food, and was being cared for. Then I voiced the simple phrases: May I (others) be happy, May I (others) be peaceful, May I (others) be free from suffering.

Or I could focus on my breath: simply breathing in and breathing out. Sometimes, I would silently say “here” when breathing in and “now” when breathing out. If my mind was restless, I would count the breaths, starting over when I got to 10 and smiling when I realized I had lost count and then starting over!

Sometimes I got back to sleep soon, other times not for a while, and a few times I didn’t get back to sleep at all. The key is it didn’t matter! That is the what (getting to sleep) is so much less important than the how (how am I responding now).

Of course, experiential knowledge helps. At a meditation retreat 40 years ago, the teacher said that sometimes people can’t get to sleep and that if that happened, either to pay attention to our breath or to do light body scans. He said that even if we got no sleep all night, if we could relax and not resist, that we would be fine. A few days later it happened to me and I followed his advice—I don’t think I slept a wink that night. When the wake up bell rang at 4:30, I got up and walked to the meditation hall. To my surprise, I was quite functional that day. This practice has been with me since then.

Floundering
I also floundered a few times during the past few months. One of those flounderings was when I had to be readmitted to the hospital after my surgery. I really did not want to be in the hospital again, my third stay in three months, and I was depressed that I was still having issues after the surgery. I was definitely ‘on the pity pot’ feeling sorry for myself.

Somehow, it occurred to me to go back to a fundamental of meditation which I expressed in my own words, “Can I be OK with what is happening in this moment now.” To my delight, I could always say yes! After all it was much easier for me to say yes than it was for at least a few billion people who are homeless, freezing, in prison or camps, or being physically abused. I immediately calmed down, and continued to say yes to each moment. It didn’t take long to get back to sleep. I have continued to use this simple, powerful response since then, when trying to get back to sleep and during periods of being down.

Sacrament of the present moment
I was recently talking to my sister who is a co-leader of a lay Catholic community she has lived in for the past forty years. She responded to my story with happiness for me and then told me that Catholics have a very similar practice called The Sacrament of the Present Moment. She explained how she has used this practice over the years, especially during difficult times. Her practice and my practice are in different traditions but their deep resonance was wonderful to recognize.

Victor Frankl
Interesting a new book of writings by Victor Frankl is entitled Yes to Life, and one of my favorite essays (which is an Article in the Inspirations section of my website), is called Say Yes to an Open Heart, and both convey the same message.

This is from the last two pages of Frankl's book “It is terrible to know that at every moment I bear responsibility for the next; that every decision, from the smallest to the largest, is a decision “for all eternity”; that in every moment I can actualize the possibility of a moment, of that particular moment, or forfeit it. Every single moment constrains thousands of possibilities—and I can only choose one of them to actualize it…It is wonderful to know that the future—my own future and with it the future of the things, the people around me—is somehow, albeit to a very small extent, dependent on my decisions in every moment…But on average, people are too sluggish to shoulder their responsibilities….Certainly the burden is heavy, it is difficult not only to recognize responsibility but also to commit to it. To say yes to it , and to life. But there have been people who have said yes despite all difficulties...And they achieved it under unspeakable conditions. So shouldn’t we all be able to achieve it today in, after all, incomparably milder circumstances? To say yes to life is not only meaningful under all circumstances—because life itself is—but it is also possible under all circumstances.” Yes To Life, pp. 106-107.

Christian, Jewish, Buddhist—it comes down recognizing that our choices all have consequences. And then recognizing (and remembering) the difference when we say yes to life as often as possible.

Waiting

I had been telling myself that this time between getting home from the hospital on November 12 and my surgery on January 14 can be like a retreat—a time to move slowly, to savor my life, to walk every day on the river path near my house, and more. And it has been all that, especially the first couple of weeks at home after nine days in Intensive Care.

In the last few days, I realized that while the daily walks along the river are still amazing, I have been sinking into routines. This morning the combination of several powerful dreams plus my daughter’s Christmas gifts to me provoked one of those BFO’s (Blinding Flash of the Obvious): I have gotten into a mindset of waiting—waiting for the surgery to be over so that I can get on with my life.

I know that this mindset applies to many others too: waiting for the election to be over, waiting for covid to be over, waiting until the vaccine comes. Putting aside this past year, we actually get caught in these mindsets more often than we might realize, e.g., waiting until the kids are grown up, waiting until we retire, waiting until spring comes. These can easily become times of ‘treading water,’ and neither moving forward with our lives nor being fully alive.

Waiting
Christine Feldman, one of my meditation teachers, talked about choosing a New Year’s Intention to explore each year. One year, she realized that she spends a lot of her time waiting, because she teaches courses all over the world. She also realized that waiting is a mindset: it is generally not a time of being in the present moment, but rather either daydreaming, biding one’s time, or expecting and anticipating. She resolved to explore this “waiting” mindset and see what she discovered.

Exploring
Other teachers have talked about waiting. Two points have stuck with me.

First, when we are waiting for something, we are not here. We are generally expecting, anticipating, sometimes hoping, sometimes dreading. During these states, “we are being eaten by time.”

The other big point is to realize the relationship between waiting and me/mine. While waiting, if we observe the content of our thoughts, we realize that most will be about me/mine. And it’s usually wanting—wanting this period to be over, wanting something to happen, or wanting something not to happen. But our focus is generally self-absorbed with my needs, my wants.

When we realize we are in a waiting mindset, we have the opportunity to observe. We can begin with noticing what the body feels like (both sensations and energy), what the heart feels like (perhaps heavy, resentful, or anxious). With some calming, we can observe the qualities of the mind during these periods. Building on the notion that mindfulness can enable us to see things more clearly, we see that this mind state of waiting is not really serving us or the people that live with us and not leading to peace in our hearts.

Emily’s gift of watercolors
One of my daughter’s Christmas gifts to me was materials for exploring watercoloring: some paints, brushes, and paper. She had also found a book that encourages the reader to explore and to have fun.

My first thought was my utter failure in a watercolor class many years ago. My second thought was to wait until after the surgery.

However, her other gift was to learn how to play Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah (one of my favorite songs) on the piano. This is now beginning to sound like one of those commercials on TV: but wait, there’s more! Tying the song to watercolors, she had done her own exploring with watercolors—she had painted a beautiful orange-yellow wash on paper and then written, calligraphy style, the words to the song. A subtle hint that I might play with the watercolors myself!

So after the dreams last night, I will take out the watercolors today and begin some playful exploration!

Now

I am reminded of the last line of Mary Oliver’s poem Summer Day: “Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”

A great question for all of us to explore.

Tell me, what is it you plan to do with this precious moment, this precious day?

Choice, Intentions, and Interconnectedness

Choice
I have written before that one of the benefits of mindfulness practice is that it enables us to be more aware of the space between stimulus and response. During this period, between my aortic dissection on November 3 and the surgery to repair the aorta on January 14, I am required to go very slowly and to do very little. Suddenly, I am aware not only of more space between stimulus and response but also seeing more choices and their consequences much more clearly than before. Consequently, those choices are less often guided by "I should" and "doing what is right" but rather by seeing and feeling the wisdom of the choices that I am making.

Slowing down
I read a powerful passage from the book Epiphanies by a person who was also forced to go slowly for months: "When I actually slowed down, and sat, and stared at the wall, my resources to deal with the challenges in my life were even bigger and more beautiful than I had ever dared to imagine. They were just waiting for me to be still and recognize them." So true!

Cultivating intentions
I am also realizing that being more aware of choices also requires intention. This includes the intention (reminder) each day to notice and take in what is beautiful in the world. It is important to note that I also I want to see the "whole sky" not just the beautiful. This metaphor is explored in two books that I love: A Bigger Sky and Half the Sky: Turning Oppression into Opportunity for Women Worldwide. So I also read the news each day and donate money to various organizations. Before my dissection I devoted many hours each week to various causes.

Developing wisdom and compassion
This notion of intention and beauty connects to another aspect of mindfulness. Various meditation teachers have said that this path is about wisdom and compassion, that they are like the two wings of a bird which is incomplete without both. I have written elsewhere that I believe this second wing involves a whole family of practices which are important to cultivate: compassion, kindness, love, gratitude, generosity, wonder, and forgiveness.

When I bring these intentions to awareness each day, I live in a space where gratitude is a frequent visitor, where I notice and feel deeply more acts of kindness, and I take in the beauty of the world. I am lucky to live less than 200 yards from the path along the Ashuelot River that I walk on each day--walking slowly is like seeing new paintings by gifted artists each day.

Toxic energies
Angeles Arrien wrote about four universal addictions, one of which is the addiction to being focused on what's not working rather than what is working. I have been aware my whole life of hundreds of moments of anger, irritation, resentment, etc. each day about what is not working--in my life, in my job, in my family, and so on. I have worked hard to recognize and address these toxic energies.

I recall S N Goenka talking about this dynamic in the story of being insulted by someone and stewing about it--thinking "he abused me so"--for hours, days or longer. Goenka ended the story saying that this person said something mean once and then we repeat it hundreds of times!

I remember Pema Chodron saying that when we can deeply feel the consequences of these afflictive emotions (not just in our heads, but in our hearts and in our bodies), we can we drop that energy just like we would drop a hot pan that we accidentally picked up on the stove.

I remember Andy Olendski saying that it takes so much energy to keep fueling these emotions (e.g., "he abused me so"). I can also hear Ajahn Sucitto's dharma talk about how we play that tape over and over ("he abused me so") and how that energy becomes part of who we are, part of our karma.

I have told these stories to friends and students many times. And now, with going slowly and doing very little, and cultivating gratitude and wonder each day, I can more often and deeply feel the burning of such energies in my heart, body, and mind. Suddenly I just drop that that hot pan, and that toxic energy just dissolves. Sometimes that energy returns within minutes and I have to recognize and acknowledge its return. But its return doesn't mean I have failed, it simply means that it needs more attention.

Interconnectedness
The last part I want to write about today is the interconnectedness of all life, a theme I have addressed often. Many healers have said that one essential component of "health" is having a deep sense of connection (as opposed to separateness, a dis-ease which many people in industrialized societies suffer from). This connectedness can manifest in many ways, for example, connection to one's spirit/soul, connection to other people, connection to nature, and more.

An important part of my healing is the reality of interconnectedness in the natural world. One author said that "the trees, plants, fungi and microbes in forests are so thoroughly connected some scientists describe them as superorganisms" which connects to the Gaia hypothesis that James Lovelock and Lynn Margulis coined in the 1970s.

Thich Nhat Hanh coined the term "interbeing" to remind us that the illusion is that we are separate, and the reality is that we are deeply interconnected. This helps me to remember and feel such gratitude for all the support that I am receiving from so many people during this challenging and yet also wonderful (full of wonder) chapter in my life. I literally feel held and cradled by all that love.

A metaphor, a meditation, and a new book

Phew! Election day. At last. So many things might happen. What also might happen is that we take time for what nourishes us. A few thoughts and offerings.

A metaphor for these times
Can we tend to our life like tending to a garden in a drought? Knowing and accepting that the garden will take more care than in normal times We might even have to learn what additional care is needed.

Two questions to explore:
What nourishes your body? Exercise, nutrition, sleep…
What nourishes your psyche/spirit/soul? Contemplative practices, connecting with others, recreation, time in nature…

Expanding the metaphor
In hard times, people whose garden is doing well can share with others or help them with their gardens. How might we support others who are struggling?

A loving-kindness meditation
This meditation appeared to me last night and has resemblance to some other meditations I have learned.

I began by taking time to connect with that universal energy of love, compassion, and good-will.

Then I began visualizing members of my family. And I smiled.

Then I thought of people I love and care about. Because I have friends all over the country and the world, images of a map of the US and the whole world appeared. I saw lights in those places where I have friends and family. And I smiled.

I expanded my focus to all humans, and lights came on all over the world. And I smiled.

I expanded my focus to include all animals. Images of all sorts of animals appeared. And I smiled.

I expanded my focus to include all plants and fungi. An image came of trees and the fungal network underground—a wonderful feeling of cooperation and symbiosis. And I smiled.

I breathed in to this wonderful network of life above and below the ground all over the planet. And I smiled.

And I saw myself as one bit of light in this incredible web of life. And I smiled.

A new resource
I highly recommend Diana Winston’s new book: The Little Book of Being: Practices and Guidance for Uncovering Your Natural Awareness. She is a wonderful writer and a long-time practitioner. The book includes a thorough presentation of classic mindfulness meditation practices, and she explains and offers practices to develop ‘natural awareness,’ a term used by many meditation teachers. The last section addresses Informal Practice. The short chapters include: Hang out with children and Tap into nature.

Wishing for all to develop and sustain the practices that support you, and being kind to yourself when things aren’t going well. I’ve had more than a few times like that in the past few months and am more grateful for all the practices and ways of being I have learned from so many people and animals!

Taking refuge

Before I sit down to meditate, I bow down three times and say these words:
I take refuge in the Buddha
I take refuge in the Dhamma
I take refuge in the Sangha

Often I say these sentences in Pali, the language that the Buddha spoke:
Buddham saranam gacchami
Dhammam saranam gacchami
Sangham saranam gacchami

My first meditation retreat was in India where I learned these phrases. When I say them in Pali, the words often sink deeper into my being.

Sometimes, when I am exhausted, I simply say Buddha, Dhamma, and Sangha slowly each time that I bow down.

What refuge means
One translation of the phrases is:
To the Buddha I go for refuge
To the Dhamma I go for refuge
To the Sangha I go for refuge

Because I have had deep immersions in many spiritual traditions, these three phrases go beyond just Buddhism.

When I take “refuge in the Buddha,” I think of all those teachers—male, female, and non-human—who have inspired me, whose images give me strength: Jesus, Mother Theresa, St. Francis, Rumi, my various meditation teachers, trees, whales, and so much more. And I smile.

When I take “refuge in the Dhamma,” I think of all the teachings that I have been learned from: Buddhist, Hindu, Catholic, Jewish, Native American, and so much more.

When I take “refuge in the Sangha,” I think of all the communities that aspire to the universal principles of honesty, kindness, generosity, and more. Sometimes I see an image of dropping a stone in a pond, and I feel the concentric circles rippling outward: the people in the meditation center that I co-founded, the Buddhist monastery 40 minutes from my house, the communities in Brattleboro and Alstead, the meditation center where I have done many retreats, the Catholic community where one of my sisters has lived for 40 years, the Mormon community that my other sister has been so deeply connected to for more than 40 years, and so much more.

Just before I retired, I was fairly anxious about feeling alone. I am by nature somewhat shy and introverted, and most of my friends were still working and had busy lives. One day I decided to make a ‘family tree’ on a large sheet of paper of all the people with whom I felt some connection. Within 15 minutes that tree had many branches and close to 100 people. This connects to a line in an article about refuge: “in the most fundamental way, taking refuge in the Sangha means to remind ourselves that we are not alone.” Yes!

Refuge has two powerful aspects.
On the one hand, refuge can mean sanctuary, rest, respite, sustenance, and retreat. I think of all the retreats I have attended and how those retreats gave me the space and the time to deepen my understanding of the teachings and of my self.

Refuge also means support. I often recall people who have found the strength to meet adversity, teachings that have helped those people, and knowing that I am not alone.

Sometimes I think of the extreme abuse my mother faced in her childhood. Yet she persevered, and she was always there for me and my siblings. She volunteered in many ways throughout her life, and she sewed her last baby blanket for children in a local homeless shelter less than two weeks before she died from colon cancer. I think of Victor Frankl and his stories of courage in the concentration camps. I think of my friends in Nepal, where I was a Peace Corps Volunteer, and how they meet adversity with so much grace. And so much more.

When we don’t feel strong
Pema Chodron speaks about this aspect in Welcoming the Unwelcome. Some years ago she wrot to her students asking in what they took refuge when things got tough. What they wrote included things like Netflix, overeating, and other distractions. One of her responses was to say the refuge phrases in those instances, for example, I take refuge in this bowl of ice cream, I take refuge in this Netflix show!

I find this to be a wonderful practice for several reasons.
When I do this, I often laugh—at myself and with myself. I know that physiologically laughter results in the production of chemicals that are calming and soothing.
It is also a great practice because sometimes I even decide not to have the ice cream or to turn off the TV. When I do this, it’s not because I am shoulding myself; it’s because I remember the other refuges.
Finally, it’s a great practice because it breaks that dualistic construction of good and bad, practice and not-practice, times when I am strong and when I am weak.

I offer these reflections about refuge with this hope that it might provide strength to others, both during everyday times and during challenging times.

Full Catastrophe Living

A short post today. Some days life is more challenging than others! We are dealing with a medical situation that feels like it might be a flare up of the chronic pain issue that has arisen occasionally, but it is persisting and so we are dealing with uncertainty and how complex so many chronic issues are. I am also dealing with the insanity of this country and trying to respond in useful ways and not falling into hopelessness and despair. And my daughter, her partner, and their dog and two cats have been living with us since August 1; they are hoping to close on a house at the end of this month.

Even though these three elements have provided challenging moments, each has also brought gifts: more tender moments with my wife, some wonderful time with my daughter and getting to know her partner, and becoming a more active citizen. I am also grateful for strong marriage, a close family, and all that I have living where I live.

I smile when I remember Zorba the Greek’s response to the question if he was married: “Wife, children, house, everything. The full catastrophe.” This was the inspiration for the title of Jon-Kabat Zinn’s first book Full Catastrophe Living: Using the Wisdom of Your Body and Mind to Face Stress, Pain, and Illness. Simply remembering that title is often so helpful when life gets even more crazy, painful, and stressful than usual.

The other quote that is so helpful is from The Gambler by Kenny Rogers: “You’ve got to know when to hold ‘em, know when to fold em’, know when to walk away, and know when to run.” This current crisis has reminded me how helpful this mindfulness and meditation practice is and of the value of embracing both the simplicity and the complexity of this practice.

Metta as non-contending

An image during meditation
During a recent meditation I sensed an image of a screen where the images were moving from right to left. The screen represents what is happening in this moment, and this is constantly changing. Behind that screen was an image of a pair of eyes. This represents pure awareness which is neutral, simply observing, witnessing.

I know that what I pay attention to and how I pay attention is influenced by my responses to all that has happened in my life. This is essentially my past karma.

Rewiring the brain
The field of neuroscience supports the assertion that we can rewire our brains by making new choices rather than continuing to make old choices. Thich Nhat Hanh talked about habit energy, which can be changed. While old habits don’t change easily, they can be changed.

After the meditation, what arose were two practices that could assist me in bringing more mindfulness to each moment. Below is a description of the first practice.

Metta as non-contending
Metta is often translated as loving-kindness, and many authors have written about metta. One of my favorites is from a book called Walking the World (which is freely available online) by Ajahn Sundara:

“The first aspect of metta is non-contention, not contending with the world as it is. This involves intense training…Non-contending with ‘life as it is’ means giving space to oneself and others, not asking others to be what we want them to be…So this is something that we need to remember… There comes a point in the training when we realize that the only response to life is kindness, appreciation, encouragement and a sense of uplifting ourselves, inspiring our heart. Then metta becomes a very natural part of us. We can see ourselves as something natural in this universe, a kind of plant that needs kindness and attention…”

Noting the feeling tone of the moment
This notion of metta as non-contending connects to the Buddha’s teaching on The Four Establishments of Mindfulness. The first is awareness of the body and the second is awareness of the feeling tone of each moment: pleasant, unpleasant, and neutral.

I remember so clearly an idea from a course where the teacher told us that in every moment of our lives we are making choices about what to pay attention to. In each moment, we identify what it is (e.g., dog barking, pleasant smell, etc.) and in each moment our mind also labels this as pleasant, unpleasant, or neutral. This labeling evokes memories and patterns of response (old karma).

When we bring mindfulness to this, we have the possibility of making a different choice. Here is an embarrassing example. As I was writing this morning, I wanted to quote a passage from a book. I was resting the book on my lap, trying to keep the page open and it wasn’t working. I became aware of being very irritated, ironic given the content of what I was doing. And yet irritation had arisen. This habit of being irritated when things don’t happen the way I want them to is a habit I inherited from my father. Despite so many years of working with it, it is still a frequent visitor (as Rumi puts it in The Guest House). Using Ajahn Sundara’s framing, I so often have a contentious response to that which is unpleasant, that is, not what I was wanting to happen.

Putting this into practice
Our teacher in that course encouraged us to take a full week to simply note when the feeling tone was pleasant or unpleasant. Most of us were stunned to realize that this was happening virtually all the time! What I have found over the years is that in that moment of mindful recognition, i.e., “I am seeing this as unpleasant,” my mind and body relax and that contentiousness simply dissolves.

So that is what I have been doing for the past week: bringing the intention to notice when my relationship to what is happening is contentious. It happens, in me, hundreds of times a day—a feeling of dread about the upcoming election, the handyman replacing siding on the back of the house, the dog barking, traffic on the way to the hardware store, the parking lot at the store full, etc. etc. And each time I have this awareness of contending with what is happening, my mind and body relax and I move to a non-contending relationship.