Gratitude

As we continue to stay here, suspended in the jelly of uncertainty, unsure of when our lives can start back up again, when we’ll be able to hug our friends and family again, what things will look like when we can peek our heads outside, it’s easy for me to become overwhelmed with the enormity of it all. Things won’t look the same as they did just last month and it feels like we’re collectively faced with an impossible choice, deciding how much and what kind of human suffering we can stomach — our loved ones getting sick, overwhelming hospital systems, and eventually dying, or our loved ones going hungry, overwhelmed by mounting debt and unpaid bills, also eventually dying. There is no easy answer, but the suffering we’re feeling as a global society as we face this together, apart, is revealing some important lessons for those willing to listen.

At the same time that we’re facing this vast uncertainty and the often fearful reality of our fragile existence, we’re also seeing so many beautiful expressions of joy, compassion, and community. The very act of social distancing is one of love, supporting the health of countless nameless faces we’ll never meet. We’re finding joy in the silly little parts of the day we would have otherwise missed, like when my son asks my husband to take a break from the dishes for “a little tickle” (that’s actually happening right now as I type). :) And we’re seeing firsthand how interconnected we are as a human family. Just as a virus can spread easily among us, ignoring borders and class, so too can this renewed sense of love, compassion and joy. We can band together to offer food to those who are hungry, recognize the social inequality that is exacerbating this crisis for so many, and work hard today to prepare ourselves to create a better, more loving, more inclusive future for all of us.

And if all of that feels like too much right now, we can practice gratitude.

Gratitude has been a major source of stability for me during these seemingly endless stay at home days, and well before this crisis. As this lockdown began I wasn’t really remembering this essential tool, and it was easy to only see the negative side of things. But after the first week or so, I remembered how transformative purposefully orienting my thinking to gratitude is for me. So I reached out to a friend to see if she’d be my gratitude buddy. She agreed, and since then, I’ve been lucky enough to have a dear friend to share my gratitude with each day.

Each night before bed we text each other a couple sentences about one thing in the day we feel grateful for. Some days the gratitude flows easily and I have to choose among a handful of lovely memories from my day. Other days the exercise really does feel like exercise, as I search my memories of the day for even one thing to share. Often on those days when I’m feeling at my lowest, the very act of reviewing my day to share a moment of gratitude gives me a few minutes of respite from the negative thinking I’d not even realized was there. The added bonus of this exercise for me is that I also get to hear what my friend is grateful for, which brings a smile to my face as well. It’s a positive feedback loop that has been sustaining me for the last six weeks.

Even if you don’t have a gratitude buddy with whom to share your daily highlights, you can still make it a point to stop and recognize the various reasons for gratitude each day, either by pausing to acknowledge things you’re grateful for as they happen, soaking in the sensation of gratitude, or taking a few minutes at the end of the night to reflect and journal about the parts of your day for which you’re grateful.

Death’s shadow is always looming over our existence here on earth, and expressing  gratitude for this human life is an excellent way to honor our present vitality while also recognizing this inexorable condition of life. What is there to fear in death if we can practice living each day fully aware of the gift it is to be alive? Since this all began, and we have been continually reminded of the preciousness of each day, my husband and I have shared a moment of gratitude each morning when we wake up -- we’re here, we’re breathing. 

This isn’t to say that gratitude is a cure all, and that if we practice gratitude all of our struggles and suffering will disappear with a snap. But working to continually shift our perspective to orient toward gratitude does help us to stop being victims of our own lives and circumstances. Instead of experiencing these disastrous and scary moments of life as reason to cower in a “poor me, poor us” mindset, (which speaking from personal experience, is an easy place to go these days!), we can instead see these waves of challenge and suffering as an opportunity for our souls to grow and mature, an opportunity for us to learn how to live fully, an opportunity for us to let down our constant resistance to life and live fearlessly, fully trusting our heart’s capacity for love. 

Gratitude’s magic lies in its ability to get us to drop our resistance in exchange for an embrace. 

It seems like all of my musings here end up in a similar place -- one of allowing our awareness to aid us in giving up the constant fight against what is, to embracing it all instead. Even when it’s hard, especially when it’s hard, our awareness and mindfulness practice teaches us how to be with it, loving (not necessarily liking!) each moment for the gift that it truly is -- another moment to wake up to the reality that we are surrounded by love, swimming in it really. 

I have a choice. I can spend my energy and focus fearing and dreading the suffering that is coming out of this moment in time. Or I can spend my energy and place my awareness on expanding the love and compassion coming out of this moment in time, even if it starts with just being grateful for the breath I’m breathing right now. 

Even when I spend my energy and focus on the fearful dreading side of things gratitude and awareness can still lift me up to my best self. The more I practice, the more I see and can remember that it was during all of the “worst” times in my life when I’ve experienced the most growth. Keeping this in mind makes it easier to trust in the moment and the love that holds us all. From this trust I’m better equipped to see moments to be grateful for on even my worst days.

We’ve got just this one life, these few years to walk this earth. What better way to spend this time than experiencing gratitude as witness to all of the little miracles that make up each day? One of my teachers would end each evening on retreat with the reminder to really pay attention as we tucked ourselves into bed at night. That juicy feeling of laying down, getting under the covers and coming to rest - “don’t miss it!” he would say. Echoing his sentiments, I encourage you to find the juicy moments in your day today, savor the beauty surrounding you and the love holding you. Don’t miss it!

Enough

Last night as we reviewed the items to include in our next farm box delivery, I was struck by how excited I was to see that we’d be getting a dozen eggs and a loaf of wheat bread. Sure, we could don our masks and gloves and make our way to the grocery store to get these items. But as we’ve not gone to a store in the last six weeks, why break our streak now? Our commitment to social distancing is steadfast, and because of this it has caused us to stop and think about how necessary some of these items really are. Can it wait? Do I really need it this week? An unexpected gem of this crisis has been that I’m now seeing eggs and whole wheat bread for the gift they truly are. What a treat to sit down to a meal that I’ll taste each bite of with a bit of gratitude and renewed delight!

A friend of mine shared that she felt similarly about receiving a grocery order with strawberries and salmon. Since when have such ordinary foods been the cause for so much joy? It reminded me of my nightly ritual during my monthlong retreat. Each evening I’d pour a cup of chamomile tea and sit in the brisk February dusk of northern California, watching night descend and slowly savoring a single bite-sized piece of dark chocolate. I had a lot of experiences on that retreat, but the taste of chamomile and dark chocolate can still elicit a flood of memories from that time. Will eggs and whole wheat bread have the same impact on me in ten years?

I’ve been comparing this time for our family to an unexpected and somewhat involuntary meditation retreat. During a retreat there are a handful of practices established to help us sharpen our awareness and support us in our efforts to wake up and see past the delusion of our everyday lives. On retreat we limit social contact - no speaking and minimal eye contact, we often dress and eat more simply, and we limit our daily activities to just those necessary for the task at hand - in this case, doing little more than sitting and walking meditation. We voluntarily renounce much of the busy-ness of everyday life that keeps our heads full of ‘stuff’ and foggy, obscuring the view to our heart’s love.

For me, these last six weeks have felt, in many of the most important ways, very similar to retreat — we’ve limited our social contact — certainly no touching and speaking only with those closest to us each day, we’re dressing for comfort and eating simple foods we cook ourselves, and our daily activities have been greatly curtailed to support the task at hand of social distancing - in this case, doing little more than walks in our neighborhood and keeping the dishes at a manageable level. This time around the renunciation of the busy-ness of our lives was not entirely voluntary at the onset, but the clarifying results have been similar.

I imagine that even for those who are still working or working from home, the simple-ness of life with minimal social interaction, limited food choices, and fewer daily activities has offered the opportunity to see a bit more clearly what is important. All of us are more explicitly faced with our mortality, faced with questions of how best to protect those we love and those at risk, and faced with the suffering of our own and so many around us. Yes, there is overwhelm, but there is also a chance to investigate what’s really important in this life. With nowhere to go and not much to do, we’re seeing things much clearer than before.

Renunciation helps us to clear away that which we do not need in support of discovering that which is worthy of our time and attention.

I’m remembering how little I need to feel truly content and happy. What’s been most important for me these days has been the time spent with my family - both in person and online, the time I’ve spent practicing and teaching meditation, and time spent moving my body. When most of my habits and distractions are stripped away, the precious pieces that remain are reminding me how to best live fully.

On a meditation retreat we’re not necessarily faced with pressing questions of our humanity’s shared existential fragility. Certainly, this is something we may have some insights into on retreat as we see our interconnected nature and the constant dance of change that affects us all. But during this time of global crisis these questions take on an urgency they’ve never had before. And in an unexpected blessing of this social isolation, our circumstances can offer more support than before, with more time for introspection and fewer distractions — for better or worse. We’re being asked to face some of our biggest fears as the parts of ourselves and our society that we’ve worked hard to ignore, because they’re too scary or too shameful to acknowledge, are now front and center when our distractions and everyday lives melt away. If we’re feeling brave and willing to step into this vast uncertainty, we may be surprised to hear what our hearts have to say about all of this.

As the parent of a small person, my day is typically full on child-centered with very little time for introspection. And I know for so many others who are working full time and parenting more than one small person full time without any childcare, these days are FULL. The thought of taking some time to pause and reflect on these questions seems almost laughable. But you’ve read this far, so maybe you are curious about some of this. Because even if we’re still working and still busy caring for children and loved ones, these questions are becoming unavoidable. Especially if our days are full on lately, we’re being called to prioritize what is truly important, where will we place our attention, how will we spend our precious time?

So today I invite you to pause for a second to let yourself breathe. Experience whatever it is you are experiencing right now.

This time may be uncomfortable. We’re being asked to stretch and grow in ways we didn’t think we could. And if we’re willing to just keep going, one breath after the next, we’ll emerge from this so much better for it.

Very few of us asked to be on retreat during this time. But all of us, no matter our circumstances, have the opportunity to benefit from the gifts of renunciation. Thankfully, it doesn’t require anything more than being present for our experience right now. We don’t have to know the answers to these big questions, just asking them is enough. We don’t have to suddenly feel comfortable with this uncertainty, just noticing it is enough. We don’t even have to enjoy eating bowl after bowl of brown rice, just noticing our resistance is enough. Even if we don’t get the eggs and the loaf of bread we ordered, whatever we receive will be enough.

No matter what you do or don’t do, you are enough.

I’ve recorded the following guided meditation to support you in the practice of renunciation. May it find you well.

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. 

Dropping Our Shoulds

For the last couple of weeks I’ve been aware of a slow creeping shoulder tension that starts on about Monday or Tuesday, around when I feel like I should be coming up with new content for this blog. Without a topic planned ahead of time I start to stress and fill my mind with possible topics and insights to share. Sometimes though, I just don’t feel so insightful, and instead I end up feeling kind of tense and uncomfortable.

Apart from caring for my son (which takes a lot of attention, patience, and presence) these days my only responsibility is one I’ve imposed upon myself, a commitment I made to myself to write a post here and record a guided meditation each week. I’m all for holding myself accountable, but the imperative, the ‘should’ I’ve shoved onto my thinking throughout the week, that’s not helpful for me in meeting my goals. (Though, in this rare instance it kind of is, because it’s led to an insight about “should” that I can share now.)

Noticing this ‘should’ in my thoughts and body tension has helped point me to other ‘shoulds’ I’ve been carrying around, specifically ‘shoulds’ I’ve been holding about my emotional state. This week, as we are at almost an entire month of being in our home together without going for more than a walk or jog — I finally feel like we’re getting into a smooth routine. As a family we seem to be working together pretty well and our day to day life is thankfully uneventful and unremarkable. However, I’ve noticed a creeping sense of guilt for feeling so happy together. I know so much suffering is taking place all around me, and by nothing more than good luck (and lots and lots of handwashing!) we’ve been spared much of that pain and challenge right now. I have a sense that I should feel more worried or that I should feel less happy about getting to spend so many lazy days with my two favorite guys, or a sense that I should be working more, or doing more than just getting through each day.

But just like last week I was working with the challenges of feeling cruddy and down because of the collective suffering of this pandemic, this week my ‘shoulds’ are creating a problem where there isn’t one — among my feelings of relative happiness and ease. Neither emotional state is a problem — but my judgement of them creates the friction and resistance. What happens when I drop the ‘should’ and just let myself feel what I feel without needing it to be more or less of anything? And in my ‘work’ of writing these blogs and recording guided meditations, what happens when I remove the imperative and just trust and allow them to come to fruition more naturally and not out of stress?

Well, for one, I feel a lot less tense when I drop the imperative. As the mental resistance I hold towards my emotions and to-do list begins to melt, so to does the physical tension that had accompanied it. With that resistance diminished, spaciousness often arises and an allowing of whatever is here suddenly feels do-able. The urgency to change or do whatever it was I thought I should gives way to a quiet, timeless quality of ease. A sense of trust comes, reminding me that whatever I feel is enough, is ok, and that whatever I do or don’t do, I am enough.

At the heart of my ‘shoulds’ is a resistance to what is, a judgmental delusion that doesn’t allow or want the present moment to be as it is mixed with a false idea that I’m somehow flawed or incomplete if I don’t do as I should. Recognizing this and softening my grip on how I think things should be makes life so much easier.

And not to fear, letting my ‘shoulds’ rest does not equate to me just sitting idly, doing nothing. Well, sometimes it does if that’s what feels like an appropriate response at the time. But really, letting my ‘shoulds’ rest creates fertile soil for me to cultivate a sense of trust to see what I want, what my heart and body desire in their deepest depths. It allows me to listen to my needs and respond accordingly without guilt or fear. And that looks different each day. Listening to my heart’s whisper may be pausing for an afternoon cup of tea, it may be a non-stop cleaning session in the kitchen, or getting silly during a ninja dance party with my son. But the common thread to all these is that someone else’s idea of productivity or success doesn’t affect my happiness or inherent value as a human. I don’t know about you, but for me, that's kind of a big deal!

I know for myself that dropping my ‘shoulds’ is not always easy. The ‘shoulds’ are not always easy to identify because they’re so often disguised as well meaning encouragement that don’t always seem like resistance or judgment. And when I do identify them, it’s easy for me to get caught in a story or view that I really ought to be following them. But the more I get to the heart of them, the easier they give way to ease and peace.

I've recorded the following guided meditation with the hope that you too can begin to identify and release some of your ‘shoulds.’ What does it feel like when you know at your core that you are enough? That no matter what you feel or do, you are ok, lovable and worthy? Because I assure you, you are!

Stay at Home

This morning as I sat, I was aware that my body was leaning to the side. I gently straightened my posture but a few minutes later, there I was, “the Leaning Tower of Paris” (as my son calls it). My body was reflecting how I’ve been feeling much of this week. I’ve just not wanted to face or accept or fully embody this moment. My body was like Neo in The Matrix, contorting side to side in order to avoid the bullets that our harsh reality keeps flinging. Thousands more dead and dying? Dodge left. Another month inside, away from playmates and fearful of germs? Dodge right. Any movement to avoid what is here.

I can sense in myself a growing impatience and feeling of waiting. What I’m waiting for is unclear, because it seems pretty clear that it will be a looong while before things go back to anything resembling “normal.” But what is clear to me is that while I’m doing a great job staying at home here in my house, I’m really struggling to “Stay at Home” within myself, within my practice.

Now, more than ever, is the time to trust in and rest in my practice - remembering that this home is always here for me as a refuge and respite. My unwillingness and fear of facing the reality of this moment with an open heart has been making things so much harder. I’m physically tight, holding my fear and tension in my body, and I’m emotionally fragile and on edge, seeing everything through my fear-tinted glasses.

All I can do in this situation is keep working to keep coming back to the present, doing my best to stay at home - my true home. When I come back I remember and see my heart’s capacity to be with it all — even when I don’t feel like I can be with it all. Thankfully, I don’t have to — awareness can hold it and I can trust my practice to help me be with what is present in my actual experience right now — tense shoulder, dry hands, butt on cushion, cloud of grumpiness, resistance. Staying at home and being with what is doesn’t mean I have to be any different or happier than I am, it just means that awareness is here to bear witness to what’s here, without judgment or a need to fix it or change it. This is what mindfulness practice is all about.

Of course I feel kind of tense and cruddy — there’s a global pandemic right now, and uncertainty and suffering are all pervasive. But I don’t have to make it worse or harder by resisting the feelings and avoiding the truth of my experience. It’s ok to feel tense and cruddy. Sometimes that’s how things feel. What I do with that is my choice. And up until I woke up to the fact that I was disregarding the stay at home order, I was doing all I could to avoid and resist these feelings. That was really just exacerbating things, because the thought of a months long feeling of “ugh” was making me feel even more “ugggh.” Thankfully though, just remembering that I can come home to a place of refuge and awareness within myself has been enough to lessen the intensity of my ugh.

Training ourselves to stay at home is at the heart of mindfulness practice, and is also a challenge in the best of circumstances. Likened to training a puppy to ‘stay’, it helps to approach ourselves with kindness and patience. The puppy is curious and excited by all around her, of course she’ll struggle to sit still with that butterfly floating on the breeze. But she sure won’t want to come back to someone snapping or chastising her for her tendency to wander. When we forget, and our minds wander to the what if’s of our current situation, be gentle in your response. The more we practice returning home to the present, the easier and more habitual this trip becomes. So now, amid a world of uncertainty and unknowns, coming home to myself is as simple as remembering that I can. And even if you’re new to practice, just setting the intention and willingness to come back home can go a long way to compassionately and calmly meet this moment.

Remembering this home within me, within all of us, helps lessen my resistance to what is, while also opening my heart to the beautiful unfoldings happening all around me. I am here. I am alive. The sun shines and the flowers are opening up for spring. Each breath is a gift.