Category: 2015

The loving kindness practice normally starts by directing kind phrases towards ourselves, then branching out to a benefactor, neutral person, difficult person, and then all beings.

Like many people, I find directing phrases of kindness towards myself to be difficult. Like Carol, I have a vocal self-critic who likes remind me of my many failings, weaknesses, and *gasp* humanness. 🙂

On a few occasions, our teacher has led a loving kindness meditation with a bit of a twist. Instead of diving in and sending kind phrases to ourselves, we first visualize some being who loves us unconditionally, and imagine ourselves receiving the phrases from them.

That’s easy…

Those soft brown eyes that look at me so lovingly. The wagging tails that greet me any time I walk in the door. My furry friends who cuddle close when I read a book, and who sit with me when I meditate. They regularly show me the everyday joys in the simple things, like fresh snow, finding sticks, and meeting friends old and new.

When I feel that love radiating to me, I find that it’s easier to accept the loving kindness phrases for myself.

Then I find, as Jane Siberry sings,

Everything reminds me of my dog

It’s even easier to direct the phrases to others, with meaning.

If you remind me of my dog
We’ll probably git along little doggie git along
Git along little doggie…

The kindness I get from my dogs extends further.

Beautiful things remind me, too
Sunsets remind me of my dog

And so my loving kindness practice extends beyond my little self and into the universe, as inspired by my dogs.

May all beings be safe.
May all beings be happy.
May all beings be healthy.
May all beings live with ease.
— Andrea G (and Savanna and Reece too!)

This week our sangha is practicing with the theme of Mindfulness of Emotions. I wanted to share my experience of mindfulness of emotions, particularly the practice of handling strong or painful emotions. When I first started practicing mindfulness meditation, I came across the instructions for how to handle painful emotions, mainly to remain focused on the experience in the body and not to get carried away by thinking. I would read these instructions in dharma books over and over again, and while I was reading, I would think, “Oh, of course, it sounds so easy and straightforward. Its common sense.”

However, my experience of painful emotions in the moment they were present was anything but easy and straightforward. Over and over again, I found it so difficult to practice dwelling in the body. Instead, I would continue thinking and feeding the emotions. The thinking mind would continue with the story or interpretation: “What is this? Where did it come from? What’s going to happen? What’s the cause of this? Maybe I’m feeling this way because…” and so on. If I could use an excuse, I would say that these habits of thinking were perhaps due to my training in formal education that encouraged my critical thinking and analyzing skills to solve problems. Needless to say, this thinking and continuing with the story would only aggravate the experience of the emotion.

It took quite a long time to learn how to stay grounded in the body in the present moment, not carried away by beliefs and interpretations about the past, or storylines or expectations about what’s going to happen in the future. When I finally did learn this skill to dwell in the body and let go of the story, I found it was an incredibly useful lesson. I distinctly remember thinking, “Wow! That sure took me a long time to learn that lesson. I must have read those instructions an emberassingly large number of times before I finally learned what it was telling me to do.” I hope by writing this I can encourage others to learn from my mistakes and take up the practice of skillfully handling painful emotions.

I would like to end with a metaphor from Thich Nhat Hanh of a tree during a storm:

 We are like a tree during a storm. If you look at the top of a tree, you may have the impression that the tree can be blown away or that the branches can be broken anytime, but if you direct your attention to the trunk of the tree and become aware that the tree is deeply rooted in the soil, then you see the solidity of the tree. The mind is the top of the tree, so don’t dwell there; bring your mind down to the trunk. The abdomen is the trunk, so stick to it, practice mindful, deep breathing, and after that the emotion will pass. When you have survived one emotion, you know that next time a strong emotion arises, you will survive again. But don’t wait for the next strong emotion to practice. It is important that you practice deep, mindful breathing every day.

– Thich Nhat Hanh, Planting Seeds: Practicing Mindfulness with Children

With metta,

Andrea D

A while back I was feeling particularly guilty and worthless because I wasn’t doing anything for the ‘poorest of the poor.’ I wasn’t doing enough for others.

When these feelings arise I know I’m in an old pattern that goes something like this. I want to do something big. (Some fame attached to this) Just picking up garbage or smiling at a cashier isn’t good enough. I have to do something big to fill up the big hole of unworthiness that I feel. My belief is that if I just accomplish something, dosomething, like Mother Theresa, then I will have earned my right to be here, to be a citizen, to be a human being. Then, I will be loveable. I have named this persona “Worthless Wanda.” Of course, no matter what I do, more will always be required. The hole is an endless pit and trying to fill it up is unhelpful.

The hole needs to heal over. It requires the balm of kindness and compassion. So, I recently spent all my meditation time doing Loving Kindness practice for myself. At first nothing was happening. Day after day, week, after week, I sent loving kindness to myself.

Then, one day I added up everything I am doing, especially in light of taking care of my mom who is 93 year old, (I’m an only child) and my support of our meditation teacher, and work in the Sangha, and taking a leadership role in another group to read and discuss a timely and inspiring book. Anyway, the loving kindness helped me to value what I am doing, instead of dismissing it as unimportant or insignificant. I feel differently now about myself and about what I am doing.

This doesn’t mean that Worthless Wanda is gone for good. No, she will knock on my door again with pamphlets from the church of self-sacrifice containing ‘shoulds’ and expectations. I will tell her, “I see you Wanda, but I’m sorry, I can’t stay for tea. I must run.”  Then, I’ll head straight to my meditation chair for metta practice.

l think this practice will lead to more compassion for myself and others. Who knows what effect that will have.

With metta,

Carol Kavanagh

This is jade…

Wednesday around 2 a.m. the moonlight through jade’s window was brilliant – even though it was only a quarter moon.

Passing by in the dark, what I first noticed was her shadow. At first it didn’t make sense – how could that be I wondered – it’s not a full moon tonight.

The moon was high enough in the sky that I had to get right up to the window next to jade and look upward. I looked back over my shoulder to be sure it really was jade’s shadow that I’d seen. Despite the proof, I still wasn’t sure.

Finished with trying to be logical, smiling, I asked jade if her shadow in the moon also brought her joy.

“Why else would I have wanted to show you this?” Ehipassiko had been her call to me from her secret place.*

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“…ehipassiko, which is an adjective formed from “come” and “see.”

… Some caution is, however, in order lest one think this means that we should trust our own experience above all. In fact, for the Buddha the typical “uninstructed worldling” is actually astonishingly deluded and the Dharma quite “against the stream” from his perspective. We get hopelessly confused in trying to see or interpret our own experience. For this reason the Buddha in the famous but often misquoted Kalama Sutta warns us not to base one’s understanding on one’s own thinking:

“… don’t go … by logical conjecture, by inference, by analogies, by agreement through pondering views, by probability …”
http://bhikkhucintita.wordpress.com/2013/09/06/growing-the-dharma-refuge-in-dharma-and-sangha/

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With mettā, and thanks to Jeanne for your inspiration.

* http://garthstevenson.com/music

With today being Valentine’s Day, it seemed appropriate to delve into the Real Happiness chapter on Mindfulness and Emotions.

In the section “Just Non-Do It”, Sharon recounts a story told by Chuang Tzu, about a man who didn’t like his shadow or footsteps, and tried to outrun them, until he finally dropped dead of exhaustion. The story says had he stopped in the shade, his shadow would have disappeared and the footsteps would cease as well.

Then Sharon reminds us:

Practicing mindfulness meditation is making the choice to be still – to step into the quiet shade instead of running away from difficult thoughts and feelings.

Running away from difficult thoughts and feelings is definitely something I do. (That’s why I went into engineering and work in IT – math and science seems much “cleaner” than these messy, sticky emotions.)

I remember one of the first times I tried meditation. A couple of years ago, I went to an introductory session a local teacher offered one evening. The teacher gave a little talk and then took us through a short body scan exercise. Feel my feet, hands, head, … Okay. Focus on breathing, … Okay. After some gentle instruction, the teacher stopped talking and let us sit in silence. I’m sure it was only a couple of minutes, but I remember being completely overwhelmed by the noise and activity that was going on in my head. I was definitely caught off guard. My expectation was for something relaxing, and the conflict between my expectations and my experience was anything but. Finally, the bell rang, and the teacher asked for feedback. Most people commented on how they felt peaceful and calm. That certainly wasn’t my experience…

It took me almost a year (and a change in jobs, and a relationship breakup), before I was willing to try meditation again.

I can’t say whether it was the changes in my life, or a different teacher, or the feeling that “I paid good money for this MBSR course, so I’m going to stick it out”, or the having the support of the group, but with time, I have been better able to find stillness in non-doing.

I learned the “RAIN” acronym in MBSR, and Sharon reiterates it in this chapter as well. It has helped me with these messy, sticky emotions and feelings. As a matter of fact, I practiced RAIN during my sit this morning. After I got started, I noticed my mind had jumped to reviewing an email I had received this morning…

• Recognize – what is happening right now?
  Well, I’m feeling confused. Conflicted. Torn.
• Accept (or Allow) – letting this feeling be
  Rather than jumping with my default of “let’s just think about something else”, I said to myself, “Okay, I’m feeling torn.”
• Investigate – how am I feeling this in my body
  Well, there’s a tug in my heart, a ball in my stomach. Maybe a flush in my face.
  Oh wait, that feeling of warmth in my face brings me to another layer – some shame. Investigate that…
• Non-identification – who I am is not what I am feeling/thinking

Having taken these steps, I had some space to deal with the conflicted emotions. I could make a better decision about how to respond.

Sharon also quotes from the poem “Keeping quiet” by Pablo Neruda. This passage really resonated with me today:

If we were not so single-minded
about keeping our lives moving,
and for once could do nothing,
perhaps a huge silence
might interrupt this sadness
of never understanding ourselves …
Perhaps the earth can teach us
as when everything seems dead
and later proves to be alive.

With warm wishes for your practice,
Andrea G

The more I practice mindfulness of the body, the more I realize that relaxing my body can be a pleasant and enjoyable experience. In fact, having a completely relaxed body can be a source of happiness for me. It sounds so simple, but it really is a difficult concept to put into practice daily!

I am so grateful that my mindfulness practice focuses on relaxing my body, or allowing my body to relax itself. When I am practicing formal meditation, or throughout my daily activities, I send the intention to let the tense muscles relax and release their tension. Relaxing my body has become part of my “sacred pause” practice, or stopping during my daily activities to take three mindful breaths, and relaxing my body on the out breath. I am trying to be more mindful during routine activities, like brushing my teeth, and relaxing my body is part of that practice. I also enjoy trying to relax while walking, so that instead of accumulating tension while I am walking somewhere I can actually arrive with a little bit less tension and tightness.

When I bring my mindfulness to my body, I allow my body to relax, and it feels really good! I often feel a sense of ease, and sometimes when I’m really relaxed I feel really happy.

This happiness might be a form of happiness as relief, that is, I am happy because I am relieved of something unpleasant. I am happy when my body relaxes because I am relieved of the discomfort of a tense body. The more I do these practices, the more I notice how much tension I carry throughout the day. This tension is there so much of the time, but below my level of awareness. As I write this, I stop to think, “Is it possible to not have that tension there in the first place? Wouldn’t that be more skillful and enjoyable? Or is this even possible to be completely free from tension all the time?”

Mindfulness can be a source of happiness when I can take delight in having a relaxed body. This is so important for me when I see how mindfulness is a source of happiness, and this source of happiness comes from within myself. What a radical concept! I don’t have to go anywhere to get it, I have it with me all the time, I just have to decide to use it. I don’t have to go anywhere to buy something to give me this happiness, but instead I can produce happiness on my own.

A meditation I have begun to take as my primary practice is relaxing my body. In the style of Thich Nhat Hanh’s guided meditations, it goes:

“Breathing in, I am aware of my entire body. Breathing out I release all the tension in my body.
Breathing in, aware of body. Breathing out, relaxing body.
Body…relax.”

With metta,

Andrea D

I get out of bed. I’m awake. I can see, hear, touch, taste, smell, so I’m conscious. But I’m not mindful. Mindfulness begins when I take my first drink of water for the day and know that I am drinking the water. I say “Ah.” I’m aware that I’m drinking water. To be mindful I have to be present to what’s going on. I have to have the intention of paying attention.

So, after my drink of water I step into the shower and before long I’m thinking and then I realize I’m thinking and then I say, “Ah, all this lovely water going to waste on just getting clean.” And I turn my mind to soap, washcloth, suds and water.

Finally I’m dressed and my husband and I sit for our meditation. Now things are a little more challenging. Somehow the body moving and the actions taken prior to sitting make being present off the cushion easier than on the cushion for me. But mindfulness on the cushion is just fine when I remember what I realized one day.

What I realized was that meditation was about thinking and coming back from thinking to anchor again with the breath, then watch or follow it, and then keep doing this over and over. I said, “Oh, so this is meditation! It’s not this blissful state of peace and light where I’m all zoned out and floating in a lovely white space.” Perhaps that happens sometimes for some people. For me, some days are more settled and peaceful than others, and yet, whatever happens is just fine.

After our meditation sit there is a ‘meditation hug’ my husband and I do. We hold each other for three breaths, with his arms around me and my arms around him.

Then there’s breakfast and that first sip of coffee which is so, well, ‘coffeeee.’ Mmmm!

After breakfast, in the bathroom, I’m thinking of my body parts and thanking them for their great functioning. “Thank you ureters. Thank you bladder and kidneys.”  “Thank you stomach for receiving and processing. Thank you intestines for processing and distributing. Thank you heart for beating so faithfully.”

This morning mindfulness lays the foundation for my day.

With metta,

Carol Kavanagh

These past days of practice have been equal measures of frustration, confusion, and intention.

I think (hope, wish) that my intention is correct – to be open to the opportunity / experience that may arise – whatever that may be. Maybe it’s just not-knowing-what-I-don’t-know. But, I’m told perseverance is a virtue… and so, as Stuart Davis once tweeted, I try to “Stray the course” and maybe “Fall Awake“.

And while trying, I very much rely on received wisdom. Dian Reid, in her writings on how “To Live Vicariously Through Yourself”, relates a great story about encouraging action: “I asked … what “taking inspired action” means … and one of the responses shared with me went like this:

“one deep breath. mix 1 part wisdom + 1 part intuition + 1 part emotion + 1 part courage + 1 part faith + 1 part balance. stir gently. allow to simmer. another deep breath. watch. wait patiently. listen intently. see what options bubble to the surface. use your gift of CHOICE. pick up one foot high in the air with both hands. l-e-a-p. and trust that the net will appear.”

~ The Little Yogini That Could

<http://authenticrealities.com/2010/07/live-vicariously-through-yourself/>

The confusion and frustration that are mine, are (I assume), because I don’t think I am making much progress. At least, sitting has become my daily routine – and is hopefully not just a routine. Seth Godin says it as well as anyone:

“There’s a fundamental difference between the things you do every day, every single day, and the things you do only when the spirit moves you.
One difference is that once you’ve committed to doing something daily, you find that the spirit moves you, daily.”

~ <http://sethgodin.typepad.com/seths_blog/2014/12/daily.html>

And as an apt a description as I’ve read on what I may come to experience is, that

“Such meditative understanding is experiential rather than intellectual, therapeutic rather than dogmatic, liberating rather than merely convincing.”

~Stephen Batchelor, Meditation (Tricycle)

It’s a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don’t keep your feet, there’s no knowing where you might be swept off to.”
— J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings

Here in Saskatchewan, we had a brief spell of unseasonably warm weather towards the end of January, resulting in the melting of some snow. February arrived with the more typical, well below freezing temperatures, and the puddles and slush froze back into ice, making some sidewalks more like skating rinks.

Living close to downtown, I am fortunate to be able to walk to and from work. Quite often my walks to work are not that mindful. I’m in a rush to get to work, and I’m already trying to solve some issue that was left from the day before, or just grimacing from the cold wind sneaking through the seams of my jacket. I get to work, take off my jacket, log in to the computer and just keep going.

And you may ask yourself – Well… How did I get here?”
— Talking Heads, Once in a Lifetime

With the ice, the walks over past week and a half have required much more focus on the basic mechanics of walking – lift foot, swing weight, place foot – paying close attention to the stability of this step – and repeat. My walk to work takes a little longer. But it’s still not very mindful.

I’ve tried to do mindful walking before. As a person who tends to over-think things, my walking style on such occasions is more akin to a Monty Python sketch.

Last night, I tried doing 20 minutes of mindful walking instead of my usual sit. First challenge – finding a space to walk twenty steps. It’s cold outside, so I wanted to stay in, but my house is small. I eventually found a route that snaked through the basement.

Feeling the sensations in my feet – I was wearing socks and slippers, so I could feel the fabric against my feet. As I moved, I was also very aware of the bumps and cracks in the basement floor. It was hard for me to be non-judgmental about this. (“Darn this old house!”)

“Try to feel your feet as if you’re not looking down at them, but as if they’re looking up at you”. I spent the first few minutes of the walking meditation trying to wrap my mind around that concept. “But I don’t have eyes in my feet,” my head said. I didn’t get it. 🙂

“Remain relaxed but alert and receptive.” Staying relaxed was a challenge. As the walking continued, I became quite aware that in focusing on each step, my jaw had clenched and my shoulders had tightened. I used the turnaround point at either end of my path as an opportunity to reset, but before I knew it, I was tense again…

“[Be] aware of the sights and sounds around you without getting lost in them.” Walking the same path through the basement meant I repeatedly passed by the boxes that I should sort through, and the stain on the floor that I should clean. I noticed my mind would tend to fixate on those objects rather than pay attention to the movement.

“After some minutes, slow your walking down further and divide the step into three parts: lift, move, place” – I found that slowing down the walking and breaking into parts really helped me focus. This was more like the concentration practice that we were doing last week.

“Newcomers to walking meditation may feel a bit wobbly”. Yep. 🙂 On the other hand – er foot – I would rather be a bit wobbly and be able to concentrate than less wobbly and more distracted. Wobbly wins this time.

About two-thirds through the walking meditation, one of my dogs came downstairs to see what I was doing. He walked with me for a while, following me into the furthest corner, then back to the stairs. Each time we got close to the stairs, he’d start to ascend, hoping that we’d get to go for a “real” walk now. But then I’d turn around and go back, so he came back down and followed me again. I enjoyed his presence. His kindness and curiosity helped me to feel kinder with myself.

When the bell rang to indicate my 20 minutes were up, I noted that the time seemed to go more quickly than when I sit, but I didn’t feel as connected or peaceful when I was done.

After taking the dogs for a “real” walk, I closed the day with a mindful “drinking tea meditation”, which helped me settle.

While I probably won’t do walking meditation as part of my regular routine, I know I will come back to it again, as it’s a good way to get “a fresh, immediate experience” of my body.

After all, as Sharon says in the takeaway for week 2:

Mindfulness isn’t difficult; we just need to remember to do it.

If you have tips or tricks that work for your walking meditation, let me know in the comments!
— Andrea G

My mindfulness practice has included paying more attention to how mental preoccupations and physical tension are intimately linked. Sitting this morning, I noticed that my shoulders were incredibly tight and painful, which is not unusual for me as my shoulders are where I carry tension. Pain and tension in my shoulders has been somewhat more common the past few weeks due to many preoccupations with work.

The question is, during my formal sitting practice, do I continue to keep my attention concentrated on my breath and ensure my body is still relaxed overall, or do I take my attention away from my breath to focus more intensely on the muscle tension in my shoulders? I don’t think there is a yes or no answer to this all the time, but certainly I recognize the usefulness of paying more attention to places of tension in my body.

Of course, usually I’d rather not pay attention to tension in my body, I’d rather stay with the breath and try to reach for that lofty goal of “stillness” and silence. This physical pain is usually seen as a distraction, a nuisance, an annoyance, when my goal is to focus on something else.

When I do decide to focus specifically on the muscle tension, I find that mindfulness does have a healing effect. Mindfulness of pain is a fascinating practice, and I encourage anyone to try it out! For me, the practice is about pinpointing where exactly the pain is in the body and whether it moves, whether it changes or shifts or continues to stay the same, what type of pain it is (throbbing, shooting, aching, tightness, discomfort). I keep asking the question, “What is this?” to really uncover what this experience is all about. Intially, the pain might initially get worse, but eventually it is able to subside all on its own.

Off the cushion, applying mindfulness to how this muscle pain accumulates throughout the day is definitely worthwhile as well. This can be an continuous effort because my habit energy is to ignore the pain and tension, and wish or pretend it isn’t there. When I am able to notice it during my daily activities, I do find that the physical tension is an outward manifestation of mental and emotional tension. The physical tension appears when I am trying to mentally push myself to accomplish a task in a hurry, or I am trying to compensate for a certain quality that I feel that I am lacking (diligence, dedication, outgoingness, etc.). I am being forceful and aggressive in my mind, and that forcefulness comes along with physical tension.

With time I hope that this forcefulness and self-aggression can subside the more I can hold it in mindfulness and remember that I really want to be relaxed and at ease. When I am able to remember to practice mindfulness, and apply this awareness to my body and its levels of relaxation and tension, I find it provides many useful results and I learn so much about my mind and body in the process.