Mercy

 As Christmas Day fast approaches, I find myself experiencing all sorts of emotions. 

My oldest and much adored son will be moving to another capital city imminently and he will take, naturally enough, his son, due very soon to enter this world.  Covid provided me the luxury of plans being put off for almost a year, so the idea of not seeing him regularly was also put off into the backburner of my mind.

A few days ago I had framed an official photograph of his football team as Premiers of our AFL football league for 2009. (We always come close but haven't achieved glory since then.) It seemed a nice reminder of the city he loves whilst he was living in a warmer clime. I was doing fine until in conversation with the framer and it suddenly hit me why I was doing this task, and I got teary. 

Of course we will travel to them regularly but it's the first time one of my chickens has gone to live somewhere else permanently. It's only an hour's travel in the plane so it's not dire, but just a bit of a shock to the system. The saving grace, let me assure you, is that there is nowhere better to live than right here, so I know he will be back when he can (might have to get super senior in his company and insist because the market there is bigger than here). And, I know he'll want his son to go to his old school. There are forces behind the move back.

All in all, it's a lovely time of the year for me. It's the first time my grandsons will be at the beach, and we will all be there, so that's grand.

And yet, my mind returns, each and every day to a friend suffering with addiction 10,000 miles away. It's been without question the most rugged few months of his life. For a time, I had access to his sister, so while he was too ill to get me a message he was alive, I had her. But, he objected to the email interactions between us. I think, and I can't blame him, he felt we were colluding.

The point being, that having had a one liner email saying that he wasn't doing very well at all, and since then silence, I check my emails each day and due to the silence from him, I wonder if he is alive or dead.

Trust me when I say I have wracked my brain to think of something to do that is useful. Initially, I did all I could to get the people in his life to organize an intervention and get him to a long rehab situation where his body and mind had a chance to re-calibrate. I also aimed for time in a monastery. He needs a lot of silence; rest and peace. There simply wasn't the force behind the intention.

To my knowledge, he is alone at Christmas time in a vast city at a time of year he usually adores. In spite of my best efforts, my mind pulls back to that thought, and to all the people suffering right now.

I am filled with gratitude for what I have in my life but the best Christmas gift of all would be a note to say that he is being taken care of with people who know how to do that, and that in the end he will be all right. I don't think that note will come.

And so, I use this platform to urge you to be not just grateful but merciful this season.

Happy Holidays.

My little girl

 I happened to hear a woman describe this morning her complete inability to befriend her inner child. Basically, her little girl self looks at the grown woman and wants to know why on earth would she trust the grown woman.

This brought to mind the evolving sense that I have had of my 'inner child'. At first, when I heard that term and the term 'self love' I had no idea at all what those words meant. I became curious about the terms and went in search of definitions and descriptions. It was still academic to me.

(I did, however, sometimes embody her. I felt the vulnerability, the sweetness, the purity and innocence of her, long before I understood of her official existence within me. I had thought, for decades, it was my immaturity.)

In a meditative state, I tried to reach that younger part of me, and over time a young girl appeared in my mind's eye. She was me as I remember me at about eight years old. She had blond hair and was wearing it in plaits, just as I used to do at that time.

I couldn't help but notice that the little girl was inert, incapable of moving a muscle. Her arms were by her sides and she didn't make eye contact with me or anyone or anything else. She simply stared straight ahead. She spoke not a word or sound.

It went this way for many months. No words, no attempt to accept touch or comfort. She just stood there in the same spot in the place she lived, very close to the back door.

I offered the little girl an opportunity to come and live with me; to experience affection and joy. There was nothing left for her here, I said. No change. But, maybe she was listening, because one day there was a tentative smile, and she allowed a hug.

I promised her a wonderful home; loads of love and acceptance. I did this consistently, not expecting too much; giving her her time to develop trust in me.

One day, she agreed, and off she skipped to live with me, the grown woman. 

My heart swelled.

All that is a couple of years ago; pre Covid.

Last week, or the week before that, I was coming to the end of aYin Yoga class, deeply relaxed and completely embodied. And, out of the blue, without any conscious attempt by me I found myself saying (silently) to the little girl exactly these words:

"I love you. I love you dearly."

If you do the work, good things do happen.

'Interesting'

 This is an addendum to the last post, 'Just Sit'. It occurred to me, with the distance of a day since I wrote that post, that it could be interpreted by a reader as my suggesting that that's all that is required in all circumstances - to just sit.

Firstly, if you are new to meditation I would suggest you join a meditation class to avoid any pitfalls of thinking that there is some special way to meditate that you aren't doing. 

Also, a meditation practice adjusts over time and each person's experience is likely to be unique to them.

As an example, focusing on the breath - breathing in for the count of four, holding for two and breathing out for 4 (or longer) - works well for many people but not all people, who might do better just focusing on the sounds far away, or a mind picture that evokes tranquillity. 

And even if the breath is the point of focus for a while, it's unlikely to stay that way for the length of the meditation. When the mind offers some deep and intense revelation to the just sitting person, the breath is unlikely to be the focus.

I think it works well to maintain a sense of curiosity about the experience - wonder - of the workings of the mind in meditation.

I don't understand really why everyone isn't deeply curious about why they do what they do; the things that bother them, trigger them, delight them; bring them up, take them down.

As an example, I can catch myself these days in a 'longing' state. It comes up as needing something - more. But more of what? If I go in search of a piece of chocolate or follow a trail on the Internet to some object that Google thinks I might buy, is that about the chocolate or object? Hardly. Why aren't people interested in what's behind the behavior?

Enough. Enough. It's starting to sound like a rant.

The other concern I had about the 'just sit' post is that it might be construed by a reader as my suggesting that just sitting/meditation/silence was enough in all cases. It isn't. I tried psychological counseling twice and didn't get exactly what I needed but that's me and my life circumstances. It may well work for most others. And, if there are concerns sitting there - something that is denying you a sense of ease in your life - it's worth a try.

On that, I listen to a couple of psychologists chat on their podcast and I can say with confidence that finding a psychologist you like, and who likes you, is the name of the game. So, feel into the experience.If you are not comfortable, try someone else.

I went my own way, largely; read lots, listened to lots and felt into my experience. There were miscues and missteps but I think you could chalk that up to 'life'.

I very much like the idea of Elizabeth Gilbert, the writer. (Eat, Pray, Love; The Signature of All Things) who said that 'interesting' was a word she uses a lot now. So, the only person who fully understood her died. That's interesting. She thought she couldn't live without her but there she was eating a sandwich. Apparently, she could live without her. That's interesting...

In other words, rather than fuss so much about what happens to us on this journey we call 'life' we could note how interesting the twists and turns; how interesting the thoughts and feelings of a meditation sit.

There's so much less angst in that word, don't you think?

Just sit

There is a strong tendency to view the busy person as the right model for our culture. It suggests productivity and social connection. There's something to that.

Problems ensue however when a person is so busy that the notion of sitting still is scary. 

I think introverted types have much less trouble here. Seeking to spend time with themselves, there's more chance they might look out the window and watch the rain, do some yoga stretches and deep breathing, journal; take a bath.

You wouldn't be entirely wrong if you wondered if I hadn't set up my life so that there was at least a chance for these type of activities.

Now that I am in the officially 'old' category I give myself more time to simply 'be'. There's no guilt or shame about this (most of the time). There's relief.

I am still subjected to a mind that demands each day has some sort of 'progress' to it, even if that's just the progress of feeding family, preparing for Christmas, or getting to the end of my book club book - but I am more willing than ever to just call a particular day largely my own. 

To not go out, that's a day to my Self. (Self=one's true nature)

I heard somebody say recently, on a podcast I suspect, that meditation was an invitation to give yourself permission to do nothing. Ah yes, perhaps the Zen monk that was talking about zazen meditation!

So, in zazen meditation you just sit.  Thoughts, feelings, sensations...will occur. No need to focus on them or resist them. Just let them come...and go. No guidance, no music, no bells and whistles. Just sit.

This morning I heard 'The Urban Monk' say that meditation was a bit like growing tomatoes. Only a fool would plant tomato seeds and expect to eat tomatoes tomorrow. In 90 days, with good tending, you have yourself some excellent tomatoes. 

Just sit. Be patient. It only gets better.

Shining a Light

There are times in one's life that seem so easy one takes them for granted. And then come the inevitable difficult times. 

A spiritual leader I follow talks about rehearsing for those difficult times by appreciating what is good; stopping to smell the roses so to speak; like building up a fortress of contentment and ease with the present moment such that it can buttress you against the difficult times that will inevitably come.

Sometimes, difficult or sad things collide with one another creating a labyrinth of difficult issues that seem hard to navigate.

If I try to describe this feeling, it's like things are out of place; like there's confusion in the natural order of things.

Then, it's time to walk; to let the dust settle so to speak; to let the dirt settle in the jar and fall to the bottom of the jar so that the water becomes clear.

Then one sees more clearly.

Yes, a pet will die, maybe earlier than we thought. It's heartbreaking but it's a tender time too; when we savor the moments left; when love is abundant and transparent. Be Here Now.

Relationships may end. Wouldn't it be lovely if we could end those relationships with grace; with civility and a sense of love. All that love. Did it just vanish? So much abundant love, gone up in smoke? Highly unlikely, I say. Something is covering the heart; a denial that seems necessary to do what is being done, but love itself remains, even if hidden from view.

As part of the Compassion Prison Project, which I highly recommend, I exchange letters with a man on death row. I think you might be surprised at how easy it is to do this; two souls writing to one another. That's the way I see it.

Tough love. Does that really work? I am not an advocate. Teaching, showing, modelling, providing opportunities for people to dig deep into their core and be resilient; that's worth doing, absolutely, but without love in the heart, without a sense of a soul touching a soul, I am not sure you are doing any good.

We, as humans, have so much capacity to shine a light in the darkness. I wonder why we let that opportunity go so readily.

Love

 At bedtime last night I found myself having a bit of a scroll through my Facebook roll (probably using the wrong terms there) and I came across a little video of a story about a chimpanzee who had been abused and was being nursed back to good health. 

When he was healed and ready, he was being taken to an area which was wholly protected and where he could live out his life happily and healthily with other chimpanzees. 

Jane Goodall was one of the people who escorted him to the area. She held his hand through the crate where he needed to be for the journey and she talked to him.

When they reached the place, they opened the door and the chimpanazee walked out. He had a good look around and could see he was free. 

He went and thanked the other girl there who had taken care of him and he took a few steps away from them. 

Then, he turned back, jumped on the box and wrapped his long arms around Jane Goodall and for several seconds they hugged; the most heartfelt hug of love between two creatures.

I cried openly as I watched and I am crying as I write this.

Love is all there is. Love makes the world go around. 

All the rest is mere detail. In so many years, you won't remember the detail and the detail will have vanished. Poof poof.

Be. Love.

Two ruts

 Listening to a Zen talk today I learned of the two 'ruts' of meditation. In the first rut, we settle into this moment in a more accepting way; opening to a sense of Self where the self is less present. Using other words, it's the well known form of meditation where we get in touch with a sense of peacefulness and presence that is always there, when we allow it; when we relax into it. In this state of mind, the Self isn't so present, if it's present at all. If you close your eyes and focus on the blank dark screen in front of your eyes, you will see that you aren't present in those moments.

Thoughts become less noticeable, less present as mind and body relaxes making way for a sense of peace to become visible to us. It is always there, of course, but hidden behind thoughts and sensations. And so, by allowing thoughts to drift in and drift out, not clinging to them, but allowing them, the mind sort of opens up to something that feels calm, restful; open.

It can be difficult to explain meditative experiences, but a simple way to put it is that when the body relaxes and when the mind is focused on something such as the breath or sounds, the mind wants to think less, at least eventually, most of the time. When we are all stirred up, it isn't going to necessarily go as we want it to go. 

In the second rut, there is a second way of looking at the meditation experience. Basically, the central tenet of Buddhism is that there is suffering. There's no-one likely to disagree with this at this time in history, except perhaps if you are deeply in denial. And so, in the meditation we allow it. In essence we use the seed of suffering to germinate and bloom into a hidden potential. Perhaps, is the thought, that by allowing the suffering in, a shift might be experienced where our hearts break open into something that could be expressed as grace.

Personally, I think it's a real game changer to blend Buddhist/Zen practices with our knowledge of the brain. We know that the brain actually wants to be balanced. It wants to achieve homeostasis. Sure, we are going to have all kinds of experiences in our lives from deeply sad to profoundly joyful, but the brain and body look to return to homeostasis. In other words, things will happen in our external world, but our brain and body want for there to be a continual return to a balanced internal world.

This kind of sounds like Rut 1, I think.

But, when the internal world becomes unsettled, or, as I see it, your gut instinct is screaming at you to investigate thoughts and sensations, it's less likely you are going to have meditations where you can just ignore those troubling thoughts and sensations.

When these thoughts and sensations showed up for me, I tried to go to a sort of Rut 1 meditation but sometimes found that I was using a visualization to do in my mind what I wasn't yet ready to do in real life. It was like my gut instinct was telling me what was the right thing for me but another 'part' of me wanted what I wanted and refused to listen. So, the meditations were like a half way house, inching me closer to acceptance of all kinds of realities.

I was trained eventually to keep a journal and write in it immediately after meditating, so there's a big book somewhere here where there is evidence that my brain was coming to terms with the issues that came up for me. And, yes, over time there was plenty of resting in a big open space, with a wide open heart, but at the same time, I was growing some adeptness in acceptance; of what it was to be me without adequate opportunity to express this.

Last night, I had at least three discombobulating dreams that I remember quite vividly. This is quite rare and I think I may be getting more REM sleep time. I think the dreams were confirmation of the growing realization that what I need to achieve - a number of goals - will only be achieved on my own. That is, as much as I love the idea that there can be this great love affair with another human being - a meeting of minds and shared intimacy on all sorts of levels - that's not my lot. 

I was very angry in the dream about this at the same time as I experienced the sense that I was being unreasonable because the other people in the dream were clueless to help me. I wanted guidance from people who had no sense how to help me. As well, they were otherwise engaged. What was so important to me barely registered on their radar.

To put this altogether, meditation and research into the brain, clarified for me what I wanted and why I wanted it. It illuminated that characters come into one's life that in fact are more like characters from one's earlier life and less like those characters that can fill your cup; a cup that needs a lot of filling since it was only ever half full in terms of childhood needs.

I think of it like a wall. There you are on one side wanting to merge and there is the other person on the other side, maybe wanting to merge in some way too but not able to, due to drivers that lead in other directions. Sometimes you see over the wall, or that maybe in a moment here or there you can go around the wall, but most of the time, the wall simply stands in the way.

In real life, it can feel like the frustration that comes upon me when I can't speak another person's language. We both try in our own way to bridge the gap but we can never truly overcome the lack of language.

But, it's not anger. Not any more. It's not resentment. It's an opening up into a sense of life and all it's complexities; the frailties of being human; the appreciation of trauma and the mark it leaves on all of us. Meditation, just being, silence...it tenderizes the heart, increases compassion; allows one to merge into acceptance; softens and opens the heart.

At the same time, it encourages, deeply, self-compassion. Here I am on this side of the wall wanting with all my heart to merge in with the experiences of other human beings; human beings who find the idea of merging, of being wholly seen, quite terrifying. When one accepts, the relationship with self is entirely authentic. I have wanted what I didn't get as a young person, that's clear to me. Loneliness can envelop me. And yet, I feel stronger than I have in many years. 

My cart functioned best when I made two distinct ruts in the dirt - going to a still mind and going into the suffering. When so much trouble in the external world abounds, it's a timely reminder, that the very beautiful lotus grows in mud.