Category: 2015

At the end of the 28-day Challenge’s blogging, I find myself returning again to asking myself if and how much can I change?

Martine Batchelor, in “Let go: a Buddhist guide to breaking free of habits”, has the same questions:

How do I measure up? How happy, wise, compassionate, clever am I or have I been?

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What is your mental benchmark for happiness, wisdom, and compassion? Often meditators feel bad because they are not mindful enough or wise enough or compassionate enough. Who decided where the benchmark is? Do we need one?

My thought at the end of my last blog was that I am OK with trusting that I can and will change (with the implied hope being that it will be for the better).

Relying as much as I do on the received wisdom of those more experienced than me, I was happy to see that Martine Batchelor agrees:

…counting and measuring is a useful skill in construction work and when doing our accounts, but we need to be careful that it does not become a pattern that obliterates anything else in our experience and in our potential.

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And so, it is with gratitude that I have been able to share in the experience, the learnings, and the company of Andrea D, Andrea G, and Carol and their blogs. Thank you all for sharing your wisdom, pain, and happiness. It has been a valuable part of my own experiences.

With respect, I offer thanks also to Jeanne Corrigal for your encouragement and leadership in this challenge and our sangha, and to Sharon Salzberg for your guidance and insight.

With mettā.

Learning about Buddhism, practising meditation and loving kindness softened my heart, and led me to some thoughts about a recent political incident. I’m sure you remember the terrible loss of life at the publishers of Charlie Hebdo.

So, this is what I wrote to send into “Power and Politics” on CBC:

“The Dalai Lama says that his “religion is kindness.” Is the satire of Charlie Hebdo kind? No. Free speech can question, criticize and be tough while still being respectful. Let’s raise the bar higher than just flying under the radar of hate speech. Lets go with kindness.”

As I think about this now, and based on the definition below, I’m not sure Charlie Hebdo did “fly under the radar of hate speech,” but according to many in France and elsewhere, at the time, Hebdo’s satirical depiction of Mohammed was considered to be free speech. Here is a compilation of a definition of Hate Speech. In Canada it is illegal to engage in speech, gesture or conduct, writing, or display that attacks, threatens or insults a person or group on the basis of race, colour, religion, national origin, sexual orientation, disability, or other traits.

In North America and Europe, we satirize political and religious leaders and anybody else, and we call this “making fun of them.” Apparently this flies under the radar of hate speech and is called “free speech.” But I’ve come to feel that our “making fun” causes disrespect and hurt. Our politicians and religious leaders are just supposed to “suck it up,” and “keep a stiff upper lip.” This can lead to a tough skin and a hard heart. Since this is the “normal” way we are, it’s hard to envision something much gentler as a way of being in our world. We had a “Greening of America” in the 1960’s where non-conformity and being true to yourself was advocated. Now we need a “Softening of America,” where kindness and respect is advocated, rather than a fight for free speech which seems to fall so easily into hate speech.

(Unfortunately, my above quote never got onto “Power and Politics” for a variety of reasons, but I did have good intentions.) Shortly after the discussion of free speech and the issues of Charlie Hebdo on “Power and Politics,” Pope Francis said: “You can’t make fun of faith.” So, I’m grateful that a similar point about kindness and respect, got out there.

Since this is my last blog, I’d like to thank Sharon Salzburg, and Jeanne Corrigal, our community Dharma Leader, for the opportunity to share my thoughts and experiences.

 

Much Metta to all,

Carol Kavanagh

On the last Wednesday of every month, our local sangha focuses on metta (lovingkindness). At the end of January, as we were getting ready to start this meditation challenge, we took some inspiration from the song “Happy” by Pharrell Williams.

The subsequent discussion dove into definitions of happiness – “Real Happiness”, as Sharon titled her books. What do we mean by happiness? We can’t be “happy” all the time; there are undeniably painful things that happen. But we can experience a real, lasting happiness.

Wait. What? While I intuitively understood the difference, I got stuck here.

A few days later, an article by Elisha Goldstein came across my newsfeed. Elisha has just written a book called Uncovering Happiness, and in the article, he describes what he means by happiness:

The kind of happiness I’m referring to is what the Greeks call eudaimonic happiness, this is a deeper, more meaningful type of happiness than, let’s say, the happiness you experience when you have a positive emotion after winning a pot of money. You might get swept up with the mental and emotional waves from time to time, but underneath it is this core sense of self-love and confidence in knowing that you can handle it and things are going to be okay.

That was an “aha!” moment for me. I could see where my stuckness from that discussion on happiness came from. That word “happiness” has different meanings…

• The “we can’t be happy all the time” type of happiness is what Elisha calls “hedonic”. That’s the kind of happiness we often see advertised (buy this car, or wear this perfume, or live in this house). This type of happiness isn’t bad, but it isn’t lasting.
• The “we can experience a real, lasting happiness” type of happiness is what he refers to as “eudaimonic happiness”.

Sharon explains this in Real Happiness as well:

Real, abiding happiness, we discover, isn’t the result of getting our needs met temporarily. That often leads to an endless cycle of disappointment and escalating desire: The things we pin our hopes on don’t prove to be enough; the bar is continually being raised, and then we’re on the lookout for something more.

Conventional happiness – the consolation of momentary distraction – is not only transitory, it can be isolating, show through with an undercurrent of fear*. …

Real happiness depends on what we do with our attention. When we train our attention through meditation, we connect to ourselves, to our own true experience, and then we connect to others. The simple act of being completely attentive and present to another person** is an act of love, and it fosters unshakeable well-being. It is a happiness that isn’t bound to a particular situation, happiness that can withstand change.

* The phrase “undercurrent of fear” reminds me of Brené Brown’s discussion on “foreboding joy” as one of the ways people try to protect themselves from being vulnerable. (Daring Greatly, chapter 4)
** The notion of “being completely attentive and present to another person” reminds me of a recent Soul Pancake video on “How To Connect With Anyone”.

At our sangha’s sit yesterday, Jeanne shared a website she found, the “Secret Society of Happy People”, that describes 31 “flavors” of happiness. (For some reason, I suddenly want ice cream…)

Jeanne also described two kinds of happiness that the Buddha discussed – a worldly happiness (I think the Pali term she used was pamoja), which is dependent on sensuality – and a spiritual happiness (sukha). So different flavors of happiness have been around for a long time. 🙂

This practice that we’ve been doing this month – planting seeds of concentration, mindfulness, and compassion – is nurturing real happiness. That happiness that can help us savor the “worldly” happiness, and also help us find the space to hold the painful experiences, with compassion and love.

It has been my distinct honor to share my practice with you in these blog posts. I thank you all for your support and encouragement this month.
— Andrea G

I’m happy to be writing a post on lovingkindness and compassion and the practice of meditation, because I see kindness as essential to maintaining a regular practice. One way I’ve noticed lately that kindness can be present in my mindfulness practice is the way in which I return to the breath during formal sitting practice. When I notice that the mind has wandered elsewhere than the present moment, I try to return to the breath with kindness and gentleness.

A technique I have been trying to use lately is to smile to the thinking mind when it is present, and when thoughts have taken the place in my awareness instead of my breath:

“Sit or lie down in a way that allows your body to rest…Relax all your muscles…Relax the muscles in your face. If you are angry or worried, those muscles will be tense. Smile lightly, and you will relax hundreds of muscles in your face…Don’t try too hard.”

– Thich Nhat Hanh

It takes a notable amount of effort to keep this technique of smiling, which is an instruction from Thich Nhat Hanh, but I think it is essential for my practice. I think that when I am able to use this technique, it allows my sitting practice to unfold more smoothly, and to allow the mind to settle and be still more easily. I imagine the surface of a body of water, where this kindness and gentleness allows any agitation on the surface of the water to dissipate, and for the water to become calm and clear.

I try to use kindness and gentleness in the way that I return to the breath. Sometimes I experiment with letting the mind return to the breath easily and on its own pace, slowly, almost floating back to where I would like it to be. I try to place my mind  gently on the breath, but with a firm intention that this is where I would like to be.

It seems that being able to let go of discursive thoughts is a form of kindness in and of itself. Letting go of worrisome thinking and preoccupations is a kind of relief, and returning to the breath is a way of coming home to myself and my body. Its as if the breath and the body is a safe refuge from all the stressful and uncomfortable places the mind can take me.

The act of committing myself to staying here, in this moment, with my breath and my body, is an act of kindness as well. It means that I am being whole, body and mind, in the present moment, here and now, rather than dispersed into the past and future and into discursive thinking.

I wish that you may enjoy some kindness and gentleness in your sitting practice as well.

With metta,

Andrea D

This week we are focusing on bringing the practice to our lives. When I was first introduced to Loving kindness, it had a powerful and profound effect on me. Of course, I loved my family and friends as we all do, to lesser or greater degrees. But it was the extension of that good will and kindness to the ‘neutral person’ whom I’d never paid any attention to before. And then, further, to folks in our Sangha, in our city, country, in the whole world and even extending to the earth itself, and all creatures. Then even out to the universe and all beings that might be beyond. I felt my heart stretching and I valued having those expansive, open feelings of good will toward all.

Here are some of the effects in my life as a result of metta practice:

1.When I sent metta to my ‘difficult person,’ she suddenly seemed happier, or healthier … things definitely improved. Maybe my attitude was different, so she changed. I don’t understand how it works, but I’m very happy about it.

2. I sent metta to another difficult person with the intention of having an amicable relationship, and metta practice has been very helpful in this regard. I do wish her good will.

3. When feeling down about myself and sending metta to myself, I was suddenly able to see the value of my own contributions, and the unskillfulness of attaching worth exclusively to doing. (See my blog Worthless Wanda).

4. When I’ve felt worry about my adult children or my grandchildren, and there’s no action to take on my part, I have sent metta to them. The effect of this is that I feel that I’ve “done all I can do.” I can relax and let go. Since worry never helps yourself or the other person, this is a good thing.

What I learned from our Community Dharma Leader, Jeanne Corrigal, is that while it may be helpful to have loving or warm feelings towards the person you are sending metta to, it is not necessary. Here’s the amazing thing: the phrases themselves, the practice, will do the work. The intention of opening to this practice is enough to open us up, in time. This was a huge revelation to me, and very freeing because we don’t always feel kind or loving. This means that it will work no matter what.

Send metta. It’s a wireless connection that benefits yourself and others.

With metta,
Carol Kavanagh

Listening today to Chade-Meng Tan answer a question asked by James Baraz* about how long does it take for mindfulness practice to effective, Tan fudged a bit with his answer saying that he didn’t know when, but one day simply realized he was no longer the same person. He learned it retroactively.

Being an engineer, he was able to suggest milestones with ‘real’ numbers. While he says the effects of meditation are soon evident, he estimates from his experience that it begins to “change your life” after 100 hours, with later milestones at 1,000 and 10,000 hours.

Tan’s and Baraz’ line of questioning made me wonder if I am different because of my practice. Why am I even concerned with mindfulness-by-the-numbers? Why am I interested to try and quantify this? Maybe it is Dylan’s question.

And a radio program this morning had me wondering about how is empathy (something I’m seeking with my practice) created and/or enhanced? Is it nature or nurture?

Based on Tan’s 100-hour benchmark, how do I know if I am different and, if so, how much? “We’d really like an answer – something simple.” https://www.youtube.com/v/aboZctrHfK8

As it turns out, I don’t need to know if – or even to what degree. Thankful for the received wisdom of those before me I know and trust that I will change.

And maybe our best times really are granted retroactively.

With mettā
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* https://www.awakeningjoy.info/index.html

As the meditation challenge enters its fourth week, we’re asked to consider ways we can bring the meditation practices we have learned to our daily lives.

Sharon reminds us, “we don’t meditate to get better at meditating; we meditate to get better at life.”

Our sangha’s instructor has given an analogy between going to the gym and doing a meditation practice. I might do bicep curls at the gym. By itself, a curl isn’t much, but collectively, those curls strengthen the muscles. Outside of the gym, when I’m doing everyday things, I am better able to call upon the strength I’ve gained through my workout.

Likewise, my meditation practice is working the “mindfulness muscle.” Off the meditation mat, I now find I’m more likely to take a pause before reacting, and to be more present to what’s here.

A case in point: shopping in a busy store is something that’s really stressful for me – I’m not fond of crowds. I will now do a mini mindfulness of breathing practice in the store, and I’ll root myself in the present and acknowledge my anxiety. Then I’ll shift to a metta practice. Not only do I wish myself peace, but I recognize that the people surrounding me are also suffering in their own way, and that they too want to be happy. I send wishes to them: may you be happy; may you live with ease and peace. I feel a little more connected to these people. I find I am more patient – with others and myself. I might even smile at strangers. 🙂

Or when I’m out walking with my dogs, I’ll often be more attentive to what’s around me. The stars, the trees, the sound of squeaking snow. The big, blue sky.

These little mini-practices remind me that this – the crowds, the anxiety, the trees, the sky – is temporary. Everything changes.

Sharon says: “The practice of meditation is about having an immensity of vision as vast as the sky… We might not be able to change the circumstances of our lives, but we can change our relationship to those circumstances.”

That reminds me of the poem The Journey, by David Whyte:

Sometimes it takes
a great sky
to find that

first, bright
and indescribable
wedge of freedom
in your own heart.

With warmest wishes,
Andrea G

I found that the more I started practising mindfulness regularly, I began to have strong emotional reactions more often during my sitting practice. At the time, I thought (and perhaps this is an assumption of many) that I was doing something wrong, or I wasn’t practising mindfulness “right.” I assumed that meditation was supposed to make me calmer and more peaceful, and I wasn’t supposed to be having these strong emotions come up.

It seemed like I was having emotional reactions more often, but now I think rather the emotions were always there, but it was just that they now had a chance to be expressed. Before practising mindfulness, certain emotions that I had decided were “bad” or “wrong,” or even simply inconvenient or inappropriate in a certain context, and so these emotions were suppressed and kept hidden. Certain emotions like fear or hurt or sadness I had decided were weak or pathetic and I was immature to have them. I was also scared that I didn’t know how to handle them, I thought they would be too painful to experience.

The practice of formal mindfulness meditation, where I set aside a time and place during my daily activities to just be aware and be with myself, allows these emotions to express themselves. I think there are a few qualities of mindfulness that allow this to happen.

Mindfulness has the qualities of interest and curiosity, when I ask the question, “What’s really here right now?” or “What is this?” I open my mind to any possibilities of what can happen in any given moment.

Mindfulness has the quality of openness, where I try to make enough space in awareness to allow anything to happen. Any aspect of my experience (body sensations, thinking, emotions, hearing, seeing, pleasant or unpleasant, etc.) is invited into awareness and validated and included as my present moment experience: “This is happening now.”

Similarly, the quality of non-judgmental awareness is present when I am not immediately labelling my experience as “good” or “bad,” “wanted” or “unwanted.” Instead, I try to withhold these judgments and just accept what is here without deciding to make it last and get more of it, or to push it away and get rid of it.

Mindfulness has the quality of awareness and single-minded attention, where I am not distracted by the many other preoccupations that otherwise feature centre-stage in my mind. Therefore, an emotion that might be too subtle to notice while I am distracted has the chance to be given full attention while practising mindfulness.

When mindfulness has the qualities of compassion and kindness, these emotions have a chance to be expressed and integrated into my whole being. In that way, mindfulness is a truly powerful healing force, in the sense of “healing” means “to make whole.” I become whole when I am not cut off from aspects of my experience of parts of myself.

“It is only when we begin to relax with ourselves that meditation becomes a transformative process. Only when we relate with ourselves without moralizing, without harshness, without deception, can we let go of harmful patterns. Without maitri [lovingkindnes], renunciation of old habits becomes abusive. This is an important point.”

– Pema Chodron

It is my wish that you, too,may experience the healing qualities of mindfulness!

With metta,
Andrea

Pema Chodrin  tells a story of herself as a six year old walking past an old woman sitting in the sun. Kicking stones or whatever was there, Pema tells us that she was feeling lonely, unloved and mad. The woman said, “Little girl, don’t you go letting life harden your heart.” That seems to be the essence of loving kindness and compassion. The practice is there to help us stay open, to have an attitude of good will, of love and forgiveness.

We all feel hard hearted at times. I know when my heart is hard. I can feel it. For me it is an attitude of ‘don’t give a damn.” I attend to this attitude in my body, locate it in my torso just behind my spine, imagine what colour it is or what shape, a wall of gunmetal grey, or find any other way I can bring my imagination to adequately represent what I’m feeling. Then I just try to stay with this feeling/shape/colour or words. I say, “So this is what ‘don’t give a damn’ feels like.” Offering my presence and paying attention to this feeling is an act of compassion towards myself and a way to help my hard heart to soften. I just keep watching. Soon it’s impact lessens and eventually passes. Sometimes, though, I don’t want to alleviate my hard heart. I just want to keep feeling that way. So I try to look at that, still without judgement and with kindness.

This time of the hard heart is also a perfect time to offer formal Metta practice for myself. I use the classic phrases: “May I be safe. May I be happy. May I be healthy. May I live with ease and in peace.” Each phrase packs in so much meaning. Sometimes I/we add a few words to flesh it out a bit, like, “May I be safe from inner and outer harm.” Or, we can find our own meaningful phrases if the classic ones are not speaking to us, but when I reflected on the classic phrases, they encompassed all that I thought important for myself and others.

How wonderful to have a practice that can open our hearts, keep us soft in attitude, be a balm against judgement of ourselves or others, against hurt and ‘the arrows and slings of outrageous fortune,’ and a balm against despair in the face our world’s problems.

With metta,

Carol Kavanagh

We spoke in our weekly sangha gathering of mindfulness and difficult emotions. While we shared experiences on how to address feelings we remember – it left me wondering how and what can we do about emotions we cannot feel, see, or know.

Mark Epstein, in The Trauma of Everyday Life, references a psychologist’s work that describes “primitive agony” – essentially traumas that are pre-verbal.

While Epstein presents an analysis of the Buddha’s “primitive agony” (“developmental trauma”) caused by his mother’s death when he was seven days old, much of the book examines how we are affected by suppressed preverbal trauma. He describes this “dissociation” as a “survival mechanism” – “the personality withdrawing or suppressing what it cannot bear.”

Epstein notes that many people are mistakenly drawn to meditation…

…as a means of rising above, or distancing themselves from, their most difficult emotions. They see meditation as a way of becoming calm and clear, of removing themselves from the tumult of everyday life. They are not interested in awakening their primitive agonies or being reminded of their buried losses.

His recommendations to use mindfulness to address these unseeable trauma are forthright:

It is not as important to find the cause of our traumatized feelings as it is to learn how to relate to them.

…the instructions are not to cling to what is pleasant and not to reject what is unpleasant—to simply be with things as they are.

And, referring to the Buddha’s own approach:

He did not have to transform himself in the way he imagined: He just had to learn to be kind to himself.

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The freedom the Buddha envisioned does not come from jettisoning imprisoning thoughts and feelings or from abandoning the suffering self; it comes from learning how to hold it all differently, juggling them rather than cleaving to their ultimate realities.

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Trauma is the way into the self, and the way out.

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I came to this exploration from conversations this past year with my mother who now recounts what must have been psychologically traumatic events in her childhood – events I never knew of until these primitive agonies were able to find a way out as she paradoxically becomes aware – or at least more verbal – with the onset of dementia.

Epstein references work by another doctor (D.W. Winnicott) who wrote about a mother’s quality of attunement (much as our teacher recounted this week during our sangha discussion). He described “good enough” mothers who, by their mindful presence, instinctively “develop a capacity for identification with the baby that makes them able to meet the basic needs of the infant in a way that no machine can imitate, and no teaching can reach…”

My challenge now is to be a good-enough son.

With mettā.

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Mark Epstein: The Trauma of Everyday Life <http://markepsteinmd.com/?p=56>

Cartoon by Neal Crosbie <https://tricycle.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/12/009lettersCrosbie.jpg>