Love & Fear

The other night in one of his pre-bedtime philosophy sessions, my son started asking me about love. I explained to him how love makes everything and is always around us, within us, and holding us. He was surprised by this idea at first, sharing with me that he felt like love was when I hugged him or held him close — “How can it be there if I’m alone?” To me, love and awareness are synonymous, and after years of meditation, sitting, quietly watching, I’ve grown to trust the love and awareness that infuses everything, always. So I explained how we can experience love even when we’re alone. How it is always there, even if we forget.

“What happens when we forget?” he wanted to know. Just before this conversation I had been feeling a bit annoyed with his bedtime stalling antics (how many sips of water does one kid need?!), and so I told him how it had felt like to me to forget — I got tense and began to feel impatient with him. But then I had noticed my reactivity, and we stopped for a ‘reset’ moment together wherein we breathed and giggled together so I could remember the love surrounding us. I also shared other times I forget that I’m held by love — when I get scared, when I feel angry, he piped in, “or when I’m sad or lonely.” These are feelings we all have. And how we respond to these human experiences is where and how mindfulness practice can really offer us some support.

Sometimes I feel my emotions in my body before I realize what I’m feeling I’m experiencing. That happened this past week as I battled a tightness all along my left side. No amount of yoga or massage would make it budge. Trying to meditate it away, (yes that’s a thing), didn’t do much for me long term besides a few glimpses of comfort during my sits. But sitting with it did start to show me that my self-declared battle with this discomfort wasn’t going to do more than exacerbate things. Instead, I needed to welcome it, love it, and get to know it before anything was going to shift. Sometimes I just need to ask my body, “how can I help you? what do you need to feel safe and welcome here?” Not too many answers came during my sittings, but off the cushion I started to recognize the emotional baggage I’d been lugging around.

We’ve gotten into a nice routine these last couple weeks and things feel relatively ok, which has made it easy to push my fears and worries to the back of my mind (or shoved down my left side as it was!). Through my physical pain, my body was asking me to recognize, and love, the fear I still have. Without acknowledging and welcoming these fears and worries, with just unconsciously resisting them, I’m not going to see any relief or experience any growth.

In talking with my husband I began to see how fearful I’ve really been lately. The tension in my body would engage when I thought about going on walks — Would the people in my neighborhood have masks on? Would they practice safe social distancing as my son and I passed on the street? It would tighten up when I thought about groceries — Would we have enough of what we needed? Would we get a delivery slot? Would our delivery person be healthy? And the tension really grew when I thought about how we’ll all transition out of this shelter in place — Will it be too early? Will we just be prolonging all of this suffering? How will I feel safe again?

Wow. I was holding onto a lot more anxiety and fear than I’d wanted to believe. My experience has been relatively easeful during all of this, so I suspect that most people have far more fears and anxieties than my small sampling. Just like all fears and anxieties, mine were born from a proliferation of thinking — it’s easy for the mind to get creative in its worry and negative thinking - especially during a pandemic! The fears and anxieties I felt were and are nothing more than particularly charged thoughts. And just because I think something doesn’t make it true. Even knowing this though, while helpful, doesn’t necessarily stop the thoughts from arising or alter their felt impact on my physical body. But what it does change is how I meet myself, fears and all.

It’s ok to be scared, it’s human nature to not want to die — so sensing a real or perceived threat to my life and proliferating a variety of of anxious scenarios in my mind seems like a fair response. But since these fearful thoughts are rather unpleasant, my next reaction to push the thoughts to the back of my mind (or down my side) is where my suffering and struggle arise. Can I meet these fears with love and kindness?

So what does all of this have to do with the all inclusive, all pervading love I mentioned earlier? Well, pretty much everything. Instead of believing all of my fearful thinking, I can remember and trust that this love can hold it all — even the unthinkable — my or a loved one’s death. I can remember to tap into this love, ask for it, rest in it, trust it as I face all of this scary stuff. And I can recognize when I’ve forgotten it, so I can keep coming back to it.

Even when I’m alone, sad, scared, angry, frustrated, annoyed, tense, or in pain, love holds me. Love is everywhere — in the drop of dew on the morning grass, in the warmth of the afternoon sun on my shoulders, and in the cozy covers as I snuggle into bed.

As the antidote to fear, love helps me cherish and care for the parts of me that are scared instead of trying to hide them away or ignore their existence. Remembering the love that holds me, guides me into making healthy choices for myself and helps me to trust my instincts for taking care of myself. Mindfulness practice strengthens our awareness and our ability to meet each moment with kindness. And most importantly, mindfulness practice helps us to hear love's whisper even when we're the most afraid. All it takes is one breath, one split second of awareness to wake up to the love that is surrounding us.

May this guided meditation help you remember the love surrounding and holding you. 

Kindness

Growing up, we had a running joke in my family — anytime we met someone new or started with a new teacher in the fall, the first thing out of my mom’s mouth when we came home was “Are they nice?” As we’ve all matured and evolved along our spiritual paths the question has now morphed into “Are they kind?”

I love that this is where the discussion began in my family. I feel so grateful that my parents valued the measure of one’s kindness more than how well dressed or wealthy they were.

Kindness is key. I think we all know this on some level, but it’s so easy to get caught up in the news or in our own self-criticism that we often forget how important it really is.

I see this most clearly in my practice when kindness is absent. Sitting practice becomes torture, and spending time alone with my internal self-condemnation is the last thing I want to do. Seriously though, who wants to just sit there and endure a non-stop recount of all the ways they’ve messed up their life? But when I’m able to be with myself with kindness, things are different and sitting is less of a chore and more of a joy.

My journey to mindfulness practice was a little bit backwards in the sense that I did “Metta”, a loving-kindness practice, for almost six years before I ever really sat down to do “Mindfulness” practice. I’m glad for this though, because it’s meant that from early on my practice has been infused with this sense of kindness that metta fosters. And later when I began to study mindfulness more formally, things really clicked with my teacher’s insistence that mindfulness was impossible without kindness.

How can we possibly expect to be at ease in a moment of unpleasantness if we are full of internal judgment or unkind thoughts about what we are experiencing? How can we inhabit this moment completely if there is any hint of condescension in our mind, unconsciously pushing away what is here?

When we are able to approach even our internal grumpiness and crotchety-ness with a sense of curiosity and care, there is more space for that discomfort to exist. We don’t need it to disappear in order to be “good” at mindfulness. But what is key is our willingness to approach it without judgment or fear, with kind eyes and an open heart.

At its heart, kindness, just like mindfulness, is no more than a willingness to pay attention - fully and without judgment.

Think back on a time you’ve felt most loved in your life. No really, I’ll wait…

For me, the times that stand out are those when someone stopped what they were doing long enough to be with me fully, to see me in all of my glory and all of my flaws. This sense of feeling seen, not judged, but truly recognized and worth the time to stop and notice, it’s something that’s hard to articulate but is glorious to experience.

When we were little, part of the family bedtime routine included a few minutes for our parents to write down and share three compliments for each of us in regard to our behavior or actions during the day. Those nightly compliment sessions are among my most cherished memories. It didn’t matter if I had thrown a tantrum at the store or gotten in an argument with my brother, my parents would still pause and reflect on three times during the day that they noticed the good in me. They saw, and with these nightly compliments reminded me, that I was worth paying attention to, that no matter what, they loved me.

In our practice we’re not working to like every sensation or experience we have, just like my parents weren’t always thrilled with every little thing I did. And having an attitude of kindness doesn’t mean we just allow ourselves to be taken advantage of by people or by thoughts hijacking our attention. Instead, it’s more about inviting in a sense of friendliness and a willingness to stop and notice what is really happening without adding a layer of judgment.

An attitude of kindness leaves the door open for any possibility; whereas, our judgmental mind has already decided how something is and will forever be. An attitude of kindness allows for the heart to open, to whatever is here, even if we’re not thrilled about it.

It’s not always easy to adopt this attitude of kindness, especially during a “boring” or “bad” meditation that’s full of inner criticism or worry. However, the practice of “Metta,” also called “Loving-kindness,” that I mentioned above, can help us flex and strengthen our kindness muscle. The guided meditation I’ve made for today walks us through the basics of doing Metta practice, which involves repeating a set of phrases meant to engender a sense of friendliness and kindness within. Keep in mind that the intent of the practice is not to say the phrases as many times as possible, but rather, to feel into the phrases and experience what is happening when we invite the heart to extend its love. We are working to incline the mind and heart towards kindness and friendliness. The more we’re able to practice this on the cushion, the easier and more natural it becomes to do so in daily life.

I hope this practice offers you some time to rest and cultivate kindness as it has for me over the years.

My Dirty Laundry

Laundry. I've never much liked doing my laundry.  Not that it is something most people revel in, but I've harbored a real aversion to it. Growing up, I paid my mom a portion of my allowance so she would do my laundry. And in college, I would buy new underwear to avoid a trip to the laundry room (I know I'm not alone here!). So last week, when I was assigned to do kitchen laundry while on a Lovingkindness retreat, I wasn't sure that I could embrace the task with much lovingkindness!

Upon arriving at the retreat center, everyone attending is assigned a chore for the week.  And throughout the week, in addition to sitting and walking meditation, this becomes a working meditation--a chance to see how we can bring our practice with us to other parts of life after the retreat. On past retreats I’ve been assigned to wash dishes and sweep walkways, and I gained new appreciation for the satisfaction I could find in those tasks. So when I was put on laundry duty I was curious to see if my opinion of the chore would change.

Feeeeed me! 

The retreat was spent in silence. No talking. No reading. No writing. No computers! No phones!! But what was allowed and encouraged was quieting the mind by internally repeating the phrases, “May I be safe. May I be happy. May I be healthy. And May I live with ease.” Morning, noon and night I kept these phrases on an internal loop--wishing them for myself, wishing them for people I like, wishing them for people I don’t particularly like, wishing them for animals, wishing them for all beings everywhere. You get the idea.

I wished them while sitting still. I wished them while eating. I wished them while walking. And yep, I wished them while doing the laundry.

All of the dirty rags, aprons, towels, and veggie cloths would get piled high into a grocery cart that I rolled out into the crisp Massachusetts air each morning on my way to the laundry room. The task was simple enough. Shake out the excess gunk, load the laundry machines, three pumps of sanitizer, one scoop of detergent, unload the laundry machines, load the dryer, hot and regular for 45 minutes, fold, fold, fold, put away. Repeat daily.

Despite my aversion, I quickly grew to enjoy my job. There isn’t much stimulation on a silent retreat, and an hour of folding towels fresh from the dryer on a snowy afternoon provided much entertainment. With the well-wishes on repeat in my head, I sent kind wishes to each towel, rag and apron, extending my positive thinking out to all of the people in the kitchen who might use them, and then extending further to wish kind thoughts to all those who would benefit from the work of the kitchen. Each afternoon turned into a little laundry love-fest, wherein I left with two laundry baskets full of folded towels and a great feeling of satisfaction--amazing what a little lovingkindness will do!

---Ok, this next part seems kind of cheesey. And when it was happening it felt kind of cheesey. I debated whether or not to post this because it felt kind of trite. But here it is, because despite the cheesiness, it was one of those 'aha' moments and I think it's worth noting.---

I noticed that even away from the laundry room, the rags and aprons were making their way into my consciousness. One afternoon as I sat in the meditation hall, working through some painful emotions, all I could see in my head were lines of laundry hanging out to dry. They seemed to take up the whole frame of my mind’s eye. Not sure what else to do, I went with it and started wishing the laundry well. And I started well-wishing my painful emotions. After doing this for a while, instead of just seeing laundry hanging out to dry, I saw a huge expansive sky, my laundry just a small speck at the edge. I realized that the line of laundry would soon be dry, and I’d fold it and put it away. Then all I’d be left with was that big beautiful sky. The emotional pain I was struggling with was beginning to dissolve. I guess sometimes those things just want to be washed, dried and put away with care.

More laundry will come. With each new day I will fill up the basket. I’ll have dirty laundry until the day I die. I can choose to push it away, buy new underwear, pay my mom to do it, or let the dirty pile fill up my view and blot out the big sky. Or I can choose to send it well wishes and open-heartedly welcome each dirty rag and painful emotion as a chance to send some love to the world.

I tend to think I’ll choose the latter of the two options. Though, I imagine it will depend on how I’m feeling each day and whether or not The Gap is having a sale on underwear. 

Here's my challenge to you for the weekend: Pick a chore you don't particularly like. As you do the chore this weekend, pay very close attention to what's going on in you head as well as physically what it feels like to do the chore. See if you can maintain that focus throughout the activity. Can you give the task at hand your full attention? No phones, no worrying about tomorrow, no TV? If you feel up to it, try sending some kind wishes. May you be safe. May you be happy. May you be healthy. May you live with ease. Or whatever feels right. Notice what you're thinking and feeling once you complete the task. I'm not promising rainbows, butterflies, or a beautiful expansive sky, but the simple act of noticing what is happening just might change your experience. Try it for yourself!