Stopping The Chatter

 

This coming Saturday, I will turn 50. There's something about it that's shocking. I am grateful to be turning 50. My father had only 9 more years to live when he turned that corner. So there's no complaining here. It's more just a shock at how fast these adult years have gone. I want the passage of time to slow down. I know it won't. But, I can slow down. Not because I need to. Not because I am old, but because I want to savor this.

Slowing down. It was the topic in my recent A Mindful Life sessions. We practiced specifically slowing our words and sentences down. We practiced taking space and time in a conversation. The content didn't matter as much as our pausing to listen for our words and meanings. To not fill the space with chatter. If you were the listener in the exercise, the practice was to not fill the silences with the need to affirm, overly emote, or do something, but simply wait with presence. It is amazing to be listened to in this way. To know that the person before you won't take over, but wants to hear you discover what matters to you. And yet, we so rarely do this for each other in our regular life. We go to therapists for it and even then, some therapists don't do this either. 

My invitation this week of my birthday. The thing I so wanted growing up...to be listened to, to be curious about, and to have those around me to listen to each other and be curious about each other, I welcome you to try on. See how it feels to change the pace of your words. To let there be more pauses and silences between the sentences while you search for what you really want to say and not say more. If you need time, let whoever is listening know..."can you give me a second while I see what it is I want to say about this?" Ask for space to think (and feel). It will change the whole dialogue. And, if you are listening, do the same for the other. Be quiet. Don't add on. Don't overly emote. Don't take them away from what they are trying to find. Certainly don't give advice, or compare your experience unless they ask for it. And, if you are more quiet as you listen, they are likely to dig deeper. It will all be a lot more interesting and engaging. 

Maybe this can't be what our conversations are like all of the time. Back and forth banter can be playful and fun! But, certainly, a lot more of our interactions can be this rich. December can be very full of social events and end-of-year activities. Why not make them more meaningful? I welcome you to share what you find with me or ask questions where you get stuck. 

🧘🏽‍♂️
Jean

P.S. December craziness can take over. I love the month, but it can be hectic if I get caught up spinning in my mind about what I need and want to do. It takes more specific dedication to stop and pause. I welcome you to join me in doing that. Drop-in meditations, end of year workshops...see below and carve out the time so you can enjoy the month and last weeks of the year.

Keep Chopping Wood

 

There is a Zen phrase that goes, “before enlightenment, chop wood, carry water. After enlightenment, chop wood, carry water.” The phrase has been morphed into one said by many football coaches. I hear it often from my husband whenever we have a setback, small or large, in any area of our lives. His legendary, high school football coach comes through him. He would say, “just keep chopping wood, boys” when the team was down. It clearly made an imprint on Mike who lives by that phrase and is one of the most resilient men I know. I can tell when he’s moved into that “chopping wood” mode. So now, I hear the phrase in my own head and I never played football. (You might be humored to know that Mike cringes when I “talk ball”).

For those of you who didn’t like the way this election turned out, this is the phrase that is helping me now and I offer it to you. For any of you, who are happy with the results of this election, please read on, too, as this might be helpful for when things change again, as all things do, and for whenever you feel setback in what is important to you. We are all resilient and will need to be until our last breath.

Basically, it’s a reminder to us to keep doing what we do. Not looking to arrive somewhere because, as we know, when we get there, there will simply be another destination to aim for, or it will change anyway. Not adding thoughts, speculations, evaluations on top of what’s here, we can just be where we are (feel what we feel) and do what it is we are doing as we do it (presence). If what we are doing is aligned with what we value, to what matters to us, and it is not harmful, and we recognize that we are part of a larger whole much greater than our individual selves, all we need to do is that thing. Keep chopping wood.

I will continue to show up and offer what I can, of what I know, of what might be useful. I will offer opportunities to meditate, to reflect, to build self-kindness, to speak with greater care, to practice gratitude and humility, to stretch our perceptions, to build a caring community.

I may feel powerless in changing what has arisen, but I am not powerless in what comes next because what I do now goes into the mix of what happens next, along with countless other things. Not getting fixed on attaining, I can bring my best self forward and give of myself. Giving not from a place of fear, guilt, shame, anger, resentment. Giving not from a place of moral high ground. Just giving from kindness and love. Why? Not because I’m some martyr, hero, or saint, but selfishly because I want to be at peace and if others are not at peace I know I won’t be at peace. Your peace is mine and mine is yours. And that goes for the earth and all the plants, trees, insects, and animals on it. Their peace is my peace and my peace is theirs. 

No one really won here. No one really lost here. Nothing to attain. Just keep chopping wood. Feel what you feel and do what you do. Put your best self forward again and again. And if some days your best self is mediocre in your eyes, then just do that.

Sending love and support. Come to meditation this week or begin your practice this week. It’s all available to you.

🧘🏽‍♂️
Jean

I'm Not Okay

 

Are you familiar with the experience of having a generalized feeling that something's "not okay?" It's not specific. It's a feeling, rather than an actual thing. It plays at a low level hum. It may actually be anxiety, but what it feels like is a quieter "I'm not okay." I'm not sick, confused, or in any actual danger. I just don't feel at ease. Something MUST be wrong.

When we have too much to navigate in life in a concentrated period of time, even when we come out of it, or when it lessens, the feeling of not being okay can stick and we have a continued perception that something's wrong even when it isn't. I feel like I have been there a lot lately and it makes sense. It's been a challenging year for me and I'm not really out of the woods yet (2 teenagers in the fall of their senior year -- that's all I need to say). When I look at the full picture, it's no wonder that I have that feeling of "not okay" these days.

For many people, a lot of things don't feel okay in today's world. I don't' think that's anything unique to our time, but it's certainly heightened right now with a contentious presidential election right before us, wars and violence in the world, so much hatred being spewed about, and news that travels faster than the speed of light. It's really hard to feel okay. But we need to. To not make things worse, we need to remember for the benefit of ourselves and all beings.

How? We stay in the present moment. Easier said than done, I know. It takes consistent practice. We practice being aware of what's arising in us and not reacting. We first need to be aware that the feeling of "not okay" is there. Once we realize that's what we are believing, we can check in and see if it's actually true in the present moment. Am I not okay? Most of the time, in the present moment, we are okay. Nothing is "wrong." We might not like what's going on. We may have opinions about it, fears about it. We may be uncomfortable, but we are okay. I can be okay in my discomfort, in my grief, in my anger, in my sadness, in my confusion, in my fatigue, you name it. I won't explode. Even in the worst case scenarios, if I am right there in the moment (not in the next moment), I am breathing and what's happening is just what's happening right now.

This is what it looks like...I'm standing at the kitchen sink washing the dishes. My life is not being threatened, though some part of my brain thinks so. I sense the underlying strumming of the melody that "something's not okay" and I take a breath and ask...

"In this very moment are you okay?"
"Well, yes."
"Is anything really wrong?"
"No, I just don't like not knowing (how _____ is going to work out)."
Of course not; no one does; it's hard to not know. Are you breathing? Are you washing the dishes?
"Yes to both."
"Good. Breathe, wash the dishes, and let yourself feel the discomfort of not knowing. Just that. You're okay. This moment is okay."

This simple process takes awareness, willingness to get real, and the choice to let go of what we are adding on. This is why we meditate. We strengthen that muscle every time we sit, observe, and stay with ourselves. And that muscle strengthens our ability to cope with all that we are presented with in life one moment at a time, which is all we actually have. 

My invitation this week is, first, to practice meditation so that you can do this. With that practice in your reserves, whenever you feel a sense that something is "wrong" -- a twinge of unease, restlessness, "not enoughness," any unfavorable feeling, stop and ask yourself, "in this very moment, am I okay?" Hear the "yes, I'm just feeling ____" (fill in a feeling word). Let it resound through your body that you are okay and allow the feeling to be there without making it wrong. Return to what you are doing with tenderness for what we all go through. Just that. Rinse and repeat as needed.

If we let ourselves "be," then we are, in essence, okay. We can take care of ourselves. I use these lines in a meditation and I welcome you to use them if they work for you. "I'm enough just as I am. This moment is enough just as it is." And even if you hear a "no, I'm not enough" come back in response, let that be okay. Nothing's wrong.

The next time I write, it will be just a day after my retreat at the Dharmakaya Center for Wellbeing in upstate New York and just a day before the election. I look forward to being back with you then and offering any support I can. Throughout these weeks, let's stay grounded together. Thanks for reading. Thanks for being in the community.

🧘🏽‍♂️
Jean

P.S. Want to be more in the community and put the practices to work more in real time? Come practice with me and the lovely community. See below for what's coming up. 

P.S.S. My website is updated with new photos of my renovated studio which Emily Feinsod Photography captured so beautifully. Check it out. 

Flexibility & Rigidity

 

In A Mindful Life this fall, we have been focusing on the skills, tools, inner resources we can use to stay centered, grounded, stable in times of heightened uncertainty. Our recent group exploration was on flexibility and rigidity. It is obvious that if we are rigid in our way of thinking, being, and acting, we are bound to suffer more. Because everything is constantly changing, we need to be able to adapt, shift, bend, which isn't always easy. You have likely witnessed older or solitary people become increasingly rigid in their behaviors because they haven't been exercising that ability to bend in their patterns, ways of thinking, being, etc. Throughout our lives, we can benefit from stretching our perceptions and behaviors. When we do, we help, not only ourselves, but those around us. Stretching often involves some level of discomfort which is helpful to keep in mind so that we can be okay being uncomfortable to arrive somewhere new. This week's invitation is to notice the simple ways you get fixed on things being a certain way in your day, week, in your requirements of how things go, in your schedule, in your traditions. Starting with some of the easier ones, see what happens if you let go and do it differently, even just a little bit. Maybe you do something the way someone else wants to because it's really not a big deal, or you say "yes" instead of "no," or you compromise. Maybe you shift the order of events, try something new,  go somewhere different, walk on a new path (try a different restaurant, read a different type of book, walk home a different way, sleep on the other side of the bed, move your furniture around). Maybe you try on another perspective or seek to understand one that is different from yours. Why do this? Why be uncomfortable if you don't have to be? We do it when we are honest with ourselves and realize that our rigidity is keeping us from experiencing, from growing, from receiving, from giving, from being generous and open. When it stops us. There are signs we can be on alert for that tell us we are becoming fixed. Feelings like boredom, judgement, irritation, self-righteousness are some. When we self-isolate, think in absolutes, or have the sentiment "only I can do it right." When we think it's not okay to fail or don't bother because it won't be perfect. When we can't forgive or feel resentful. When we stop doing anything new we can know that we are stuck. In that place, we are likely to get more fearful, not less, more unable to flow with change or disruption. In time, staying in my perceived order and safety, I am bound to suffer more. Who wants that! Let's wish ourselves the grace of humility and playfulness as we bend this week. 🧘🏽‍♂️ Jean P.S.  Practice meditation with us tomorrow and Saturday at the studio. Want to be on the weekly meditation reminder list? Send me a quick note and it will arrive in your mailbox every Sunday for the week.

It's Not A Dirty Word

 

It's officially fall. Let's take a collective breath together after we've made the often chaotic adjustment back from summer. We can let the busyness of the past few weeks settle as we make this transition into the colorful season of letting go. 

Speaking of settling, over the past week, I shared a snow globe with my groups to give a visual of what we are striving to do when we sit in meditation and how it can be useful in our everyday life. We practice staying steady in the midst of everything else that may be swirling around (and right now  there is a great deal swirling around in this country and in this world, in addition to our personal lives). We observe ourselves and choose not to run around, chasing thoughts, getting caught up in the chaos, but instead to stay grounded. It is a practice that needs strengthening. What does it take to stay embodied, connected, grounded, or to come back down when we do get swept up? 

I feel old fashioned saying it, maybe because it feels taboo to say in today's climate, but "self-discipline" is what feels most true to my experience of learning how to resist the pull of forces all around us. No one else can make me have self-discipline which is what makes it so empowering. If I let myself be swayed by every impulse, feeling, and desire to do something, to have something, to follow something, to say something, more often than not, I'm not making mindful choices or choices I will feel good about later. In fact, I am not free to choose anything when I'm at the whim of my thoughts, feelings, and desires. That's not to say that being spontaneous or trusting one's gut feeling is not valuable. Of course, if I am overly regimented, I may never be surprised or delighted. But, if I can't observe what arises with curiosity and awareness and without acting immediately, I am likely to do a lot of unhelpful things for myself and others. We help kids develop this muscle when we teach them to wait, or show them the value of working toward something, or when we let them be bored and discover something on their own.

In meditation on Saturday, I shared how much I wanted to look at my phone during the meditation to see if my son, with his newly acquired license and responsibility, had left the house in time for his cross country meet. The pull to pick up the phone was strong, but I didn't. I sat in the discomfort and it passed. It was the perfect practice of feeling the temptation, the incessant cajoling of my mind, and not giving in. We can have a healthy relationship with self-discipline, one that's not dictated by "shoulds" but guided by awareness. One that reminds us to stay with the task we set forth to do because we can. In meditation, staying with our breathing exercises our ability to do one task -- to be in the present. It is a workout of its own and the benefits translate into our everyday life when we realize that we are more present to everything. 

In a culture where instant gratification is awarded so easily, it makes this practice an even greater ask. It requires us to practice more. We don't have to wait for much today. We can instantly have all kinds of food, entertainment, material goods, games delivered to us. We can get a hit of endorphins when we open our devices and get a "like" or play a game. We can distract ourselves easily with non-stop news, emails, communication. What meditation teaches is that we can just sit through the feeling, the pull. We won't explode. We won't miss anything. In fact we will be more present to the life that's here right now.

My invitation this week is to celebrate self-discipline. In what ways have you noticed  that self-discipline has enriched your life? Think through small things you take for granted. What healthy habits have you trained yourself in? How did you get to be successful at what you do? Most likely self-discipline was in there to some degree. Make note of the ways you currently choose to do something even when you feel the pull not to (for example, maybe you brush your teeth, even though you just want to get in bed). Let's make it not so taboo to choose to hold our tongue, to wait instead of react, to concentrate on the one task before us and not distract ourselves with a quick hit, to enjoy the reward that comes from observing, waiting, and choosing to act with awareness. To let ourselves be uncomfortable, or to be okay in not knowing how to do something. To stay steady amidst our own thoughts, feelings, desires. The reward is worth it. It is empowering.

🧘🏽‍♂️
Jean

Beginnings, Endings, Presence & The Path

 

September brings with it a lot of beginnings. Because new things are asked of us when we begin something, beginnings also involve change. Even what we perceive as endings are beginnings of something new -- a new period of time, a new way of being, a new landscape, etc. For me, this month brings the start of all my groups, the start of the school routine with my teenagers, the start of them driving on their own and what that means for me, the start of cooler temperatures and leaves falling, the start of a new self-care routines, the start of relationships with new members in the community. Something new I've been seeing on social media about seniors, "its the first last day of school!" I didn't know that was a thing!

We can meet beginnings in a contracted state, ready to protect against what we don't know, or we can meet them with trust in possibility and growth, knowing our resiliency is strong, should we need it. The latter feels better emotionally and physically, but it takes some attention and intention to let go of habitual guarding that arises. It takes awareness that the guardrails are emerging and then the perspective to choose how we really want to meet it. Meditation, mindfulness, awareness -- they are the path to freedom, to ease, peace, contentment, and that's because unless we see what we think, feel, say, and do, we can't choose. We are not free at all and happiness eludes us.

Though our habit energy is strong, we are not servants to it. To create new habits, to see meaning in things, to be filled with awe, wonder, gratitude takes applying ourselves. It is not effortless, but it can become less effortful the more we practice. Without this effort, I may have missed this experience...

Last week, I went to convocation day at my son's school on the 2nd day of his senior year. I warned him that hearing live bagpipers at ceremonies often makes me cry and I would try not to embarrass him. I thought it was a beautiful ceremony, though this yearly tradition seemed routine to the school community. I didn't get the sense that crying at the bagpiper's music was a norm. The experience was fresh to me, though.

A senior stood at the podium to share some words on courage that was accompanied by a slide projection of illustrations to the far left of the gymnasium corresponding to each line he read. The audience turned and watched the projections, but my eyes stayed on the student whose posture was attentive and upright. Almost military in his demeanor, he was clear and deeply articulate. When he sat down, he sat at attention and let out a deep breath and sigh of relief. All I could do was smile from ear to ear. This was the same student I remembered three years ago, like my son, a newcomer to the school. He shouted out a "goodbye James" back then after soccer practice and I felt relief at the time, that someone knew my son's name and wasn't afraid to connect. He gave a talk on courage and I could see that courage at work inside him on that first day of his freshman year and on this "last second day." And then the tears did want to start flowing and it wasn't because of the bagpiper. I looked at the class of 90 students across from us in the bleachers of that gymnasium and thought about all the experiences this one group of young people will have before them. How many will thrive, how many will get stuck, how many may have ill health or not live as long as me. I thought of all the awkwardness in these high school years and how they will outgrow it, or already have, and just how amazing the whole things is...this life.

To some teachers, students, administrators, trustees this was just another ceremony, another speech. If we don't look closely, if we miss that freshman shouting a goodbye, if we miss the nuances and don't stop long enough to take in the life that's here, well, then it is just another ceremony, another day. I drove home and felt joy and awe that morning. And that was a beautiful thing.

My invitation this week is for us to keep our eyes, ears, senses open so that we don't miss the subtle, beautiful gestures and the awkward moments that remind us how precious and vulnerable we all are together. We can let that tenderness of being wake us up to joy and love. We have to slow down to do it. We have to be present.

Wishing you all a week of noticing beginnings and choosing how you want to meet them.

🌻
Jean

No Beginning, No Ending

No beginning and no ending. Only continuation. It's a concept that Zen Master, Thich Nhat Hanh, would speak of again and again in countless talks and books. Sometimes, it is easy to recognize the wisdom of this notion in our life. We can see that what exists didn't come from nothing, so many causes, conditions, elements went into its being here. It, too, doesn't just end. Its substance, its energy, changes form and continues. Science verifies this. And yet, when it comes to the people we love, this one can be a little harder to grasp. An ending is felt. And of course, in the classic Zen way, we are also told not to cling to concepts at all. There is both an ending and no ending, a beginning and no beginning.

I've been reflecting on all of this quite a bit this year. With the passing of my mom in the spring, I keep running up against, "that's all good and fine with continuation; I know she continues in me, but she is not here -- I can't talk to her" and a wave of sadness washes over me and the tears fall. The waterworks often come in the car when I think of calling her and I realize I can't. So I try as best I can to hold onto her voice and what she would say when she picked up the phone, always happy to hear from me, and I talk back as if she is here. I suppose that is its own continuation. But lately, I have been playing with an even bigger thought which is somehow more comforting to me, which is that she doesn't continue in me. I am her. She is me. This feels even more centering, solid, free. The feeling of absence diminishes with this thought. I was never not her and she was never not me. And though harder to feel, it is true of all people. But if that sounds too out there, I understand. Let me get back to continuation... 

This past Sunday night I had a simpler understanding of no beginning and no ending. I facilitated the last Sunday night meditation group. 11 years ago I started this group at what was then The Wellspring Health Collective. I sat, often alone, until the first dedicated member, Meredith Sue, found me and we sat each week until the group expanded one person at time, slowly, over years. We outgrew that space and were generously offered space at what was then South Mountain Yoga in South Orange. After 2 years we had to move and this time we made our home at St. George's Church where the group grew even more until the pandemic struck. We didn't miss a beat, but went online that March where we have been since. And now, for various reasons, the time is ripe for change again and while I am ending that particular group, I am starting more.  It is an ending and a beginning. It had already begun way before me. Countless teachers, people, groups and life experiences led me to create that Sunday night community. I couldn't say where it began. I also can't say where it will end, as all the experiences people shared there live on in them and flow out of them. Some of us will still sit together at other times and others will find new ways to practice, as was true with so many of the people who came and went over the 11 years. It is such a beautiful example of continuation and of the necessity of change. Nothing new grows without change.

My invitation this week is to welcome the evolution of something that is happening in your life. It might be something that is changing, something that may appear to be ending, or beginning. See if you can open it up and be aware of all that led to it's being and how it may continue to go on, creating a ripple that creates another. See just how big and connected all of this living is. Rest in it. Find comfort in it. Trust in it.

🌻
Jean

Summer Self-Care Check-In

 

We are at that point in the summer where it might be nice to do a self check-in. Whether it is your favorite season or least favorite, I invite you to take a pause.

There are still approximately 6 more weeks of summer left. Though, if you are at all tied into the school calendar, it may feel more like 3 weeks or less. Either way, seasons tend to go quickly and the summer is often one where we make promises to ourselves to lighten up, maybe have more fun, or simply change the pace and intensity, or somehow get replenished in some way. Our best intentions to do something nice for ourselves sometimes don't come to fruition in our actions and suddenly the summer is over. So, before we get to that place, from a place of kindness, we can check-in.

Put all judgment aside for this. This is a self-kindness exercise, so it doesn't make any sense to have it there. As you read this, take time to close your eyes, breathe, and hold each question patiently waiting to see what comes. Start by asking...

Have I given myself what I knew I needed this summer? Is there anything I am still longing to have nourished before the fall arrives?

See if a word or phrase comes to the surface that captures a particular quality, need, element that feels missing or incomplete. Anything from the general or specific may come (ex. alone time, spontaneity, inspiration, sleep, space, relaxation, movement, connection). When the answer comes to you, slowly say it back..."I could still use______." Say it a couple of times to see how it lands. Is that the word that feels true? If so, how does it feel to acknowledge it (if not, try again and see what does feel true)? If the answer is "yes, I am full," what is it like to stop and take that in -- to actually feel full before you move on to another season?

If you did hear something you are still wanting to be nourished, what could you do in the next couple of weeks to bring some of it in. It may not be exactly what you imagined at the start of the summer, but there may be something simple that you could do that would nourish you. Maybe you didn't get to take a week long beach vacation, but maybe you can take a morning at the shore. Maybe you expected to feel more rested by now, and you still want rest, what can you eliminate to have more space and ease? It might require imperfection, but if you agree to the imperfect nature of it, it will be nourishing. If you get stuck on it only counting if it is a certain way, then you'll cause yourself suffering. Our ideas about something can easily get in the way of our actual experience. Instead, let yourself be nourished one bite at a time. It is amazing how the bites add up and suddenly you are full.

Lastly, another way to feel full is to recognize all that did get nourished in you this summer that you might not have planned or acknowledged yet. All the other pieces of goodness when we take stock add up to make for a very rich existence.

Feel free to reach out and send to me what came to you in this exercise. I am happy to be a witness.

🌻
Jean

Let It Be Free

 

I'm on vacation at the moment in my favorite summer place, Maine. Do you have the experience of going on vacation and falling in love with the place so much so that you start imagining buying a place there? As you drive, you find yourself looking at the homes with for sale signs and wondering how it just might be possible to live there? You want to hold onto that place because being there feels so good. At the same time when your basement floods for the umpteenth time or one more thing goes wrong with your house, you imagine selling it, getting it off your hands. Good riddance! Holding on to what's pleasant and pushing away what's unpleasant. It is the natural response to being human. But what if we could let what our experiences around what feels good and what feels not so good be equally free?

In our groups, we recently spent time looking at the practice of equanimity as a liberating tool and I want to share it with all of you in the hope that it will bring you more ease. When we see things with greater equanimity, we remove judgement and evaluation. We remove notions of right/wrong, good/bad, and ideas around what should/shouldn't be. Instead we just meet the experience as it is.  What I like to say is "it's like this right now." Multiple people have said they want that expression tattooed on them to remind them that they can just be with the experience and remove the reactivity to it. It's the reactivity that causes suffering. We step off the roller coaster when we do. We still experience highs and lows, but we aren't stuck on the ride, or at the very least if we are on it, it doesn't make us so queazy. We can recognize it and in doing so we begin to slow it down so we can get off.

The invitation this week is in two parts:  

Choose something that is going on that feels pleasant. Something that is going well and feels good and what if you let yourself experience it fully -- the feelings and sensations that go with it, but don't hold onto this pleasant thing. You don't have to figure out how to get more of the good thing. You don't have to worry about it ending. Simply experience it fully as a pleasant experience, breathe with it there, fully present to enjoy, and let it be free -- like letting a bird go.

And now, choose something that feels hard, something not so pleasant, and what if you do the same? Feel what this unpleasantness is like -- the feelings and sensations that go with it, and let them be there without adding on to them, without pushing them away, without making them your story. Instead, let it, too, be free -- like letting a bird go.

How does life feel different if you can bring some more balance to what arises in life? It is certainly less dramatic and causes less reactivity around us. Equanimity needs to be practiced along with it's accompanying practices of loving-kindness, compassion, and joy. We can practice it more easily when we also can bring in care and compassion and we don't forget to appreciate what is here. The practices of living mindfully all work together.

This is something we can keep strengthening. We won't become dull or impassioned. We won't be detached or inactive. It will keep us from causing more harm and this world needs more people striving to do that.

May your experiences be balanced. May you be free. 

🕊
Jean

What's The Right Choice?

 

Lately, I have been witnessing people making choices that are hard. They are faced with making a move that is not so clear in its benefit. Even though there is a choice, it doesn't feel like freedom because it holds too much weight. We all face these times in life. I've been facing them lately, too. They are often uncomfortable and feel long, as if we will never arrive at a peaceful resolution. And yet, we do at some point. It is part of the process to go through this necessary phase when it really matters.

How do we make decisions when we feel torn about which is the "right" choice? Those times when something is calling upon us to pick a way to go and we feel conflicted because we would be giving something up in either direction? How do we know which path to take when they both entail letting go? This can lead us to feel stuck, as if  we can't find freedom in either choice. It is a hard place to be and often because it requires letting someone down (or maybe some part of ourselves that we are attached to).

Think back on all the major choices you made throughout your life. Didn't you disappoint people often? When I think back on my 49 years, I am struck at how most major moves entailed disappointing others and I REALLY don't like disappointing others. When I left one university for another, when I stopped dancing, when I left jobs where I knew I was valued, when I chose who I wanted to be with, when I moved to NJ ("New Jersey!" said all the New Yorkers with disgust), when I closed my NYC office, when I stopped massaging altogether, when I got divorced, when I stopped or started something -- you name it, pretty much everything involved doing something that someone else didn't want me to do. Sigh. It was painful every time, some more than others, but all involved discomfort. 

And yet, I cannot say that in all those major instances that I wished I made the other choice. I may have wished I went about it with more grace or care, but the choice itself would still have been disappointing to someone no matter how I did it and the overall benefit was far greater, not just for me, but for the world because it was a choice, ultimately, driven by love. There lies the clue! Love is where we find the answer. 

We'll get lots of opinions from people around us if we ask. It's good to get food for thought, but ultimately, only we know the right answer for us. And whatever that answer is, it is the right answer at that moment in time. At a later point in our life, we may have chosen differently, but that's based on the experiences we had after that moment. We can only make decisions from where we are now, based on the experiences and knowledge we have had up until now. There are no wrong answers, just experiences we need to have. The one thing we can rely on to direct us is love.

When we act with love, true love, at the forefront of our being, we can't be "wrong."  True love is not driven solely by desire, passion, pleasure, but by a sense of deep listening to what brings wholeness, connection, kindness, and care. By what sparks inspiration, creation, movement, and a deep appreciation for life. If something is going to kill my spirit, it isn't coming from love. If something is going to cause irreparable harm, it isn't coming from love. If something serves only me, it isn't coming from love. 

When we are deep in the woods and need to choose a path, we can remember to pause and breathe, to slow down and ask, "if we come from love, which path lights up more?" We can go that way. And it's okay to disappoint, with love, along the way.
☀️
Jean

P.S. The renovated studio is done! Keep a lookout in the coming weeks for some big changes in opportunities to come together to practice. 

These Arms

 

The signs are obvious that something is not quite right. I changed the thick handmade coffee cup I use every morning to one that is lighter, at first thinking it was because the new one had the colors of the sea which always appeal to me. At night, I would pick up the floral, glass water bottle on my nightstand and wince at lifting it. I know it is not something serious, but it has been going on for months and I have been too preoccupied with some big life events to take the time and ask what my body, what these arms, specifically, want me to know. We are often being sent messages from this amazing vehicle that moves us through life and we turn a blind eye to what it is saying because it is not convenient.

My arms have been fatigued in a way I have never experienced, even in the 20 years I was a massage therapist. They have always been strong and reliable. Finally, at the end of a meditation last week, sitting in my favorite big chair, I did ask and the reply was clear and simple. “I am tired of doing the heavy lifting.” I knew it was true the moment it was said. Hearing it so explicitly didn’t relieve it, but it gave me somewhere to start. 

These arms want me to let go of a lifetime of carrying the weight of trying to keep the peace, of doing the right thing so that those around me can feel at ease, of trying to get the orchestra to work together, of navigating minefields. They want me to stop being on guard when I see those around me, without awareness, about to set off explosions. “But, why didn’t they know,” I would ask myself in frustration after the world was already aflame. They want me to let the flames go. Let the fires burn! Being 49 years in the making, I don’t know yet how exactly to let go in the way they want me to, but I am paying attention. 

The body was the subject of conversation in a group just this past week – the body is one of the reasons people struggle with meditation. We stop and get still and suddenly our body starts talking. We sense pain, tightness, tension, rumblings that have been waiting for a quiet moment to be heard. Meditation is an opportunity and not for the faint of heart. We hear it again and again – it takes courage to meditate because it is easier to just ignore what wants our attention until, inevitably, our body won’t let us ignore it and something more catastrophic happens. I know, practically speaking, that this discomfort of mine will need physical tending to – specific concrete actions. But the emotional under layer is equally as important. At the very least, I have gently started by listening to what it so obviously knew all along.

I share this simple story because the lesson is obvious. We can check in with ourselves, get curious about ourselves and yet, we so often don't. My invitation this week is to listen to your body. Does it have a message it is trying to send you? It might come in the form of pain, an ache, or tightness. It might come as a diminished sense (hearing, taste, sound, smell, touch). It might come as fatigue, or the inability to sleep. It might come out in behaviors around eating, drinking, consuming – in all the ways we consume. Our body has good information. We don’t have to be afraid of it. It is on our side. 

You might close your eyes and ask your body the question, “what do you want me to know right now?” And wait to see what comes. Always ask, “is there anything more” before you move on.  And don’t answer it with advice or action, but acknowledge it with deep listening – “I am hearing you.” If you find yourself defending, denying, downplaying, coming up with solutions, trying to see the bright side, STOP, and be on its side instead. Confirm that you heard what it is saying and that you are paying attention, even if you don’t know what to do about it. You probably don’t know yet, that’s why you’re experiencing this. There‘s a great deal that can come from listening alone.

This body is amazing. It was made for us. It allows us to experience this life in all the ways we can experience it. If we aren’t listening to it, we are missing out on so much natural insight.

Wishing you all week of lightness and ease as we turn the corner into the fullness of summer. 
☀️
Jean

Is It Obvious?

 

I'm not one for much small talk. I sometimes wish I was. I imagine if I were, I would be more interested in attending parties and social events. Instead, I am drawn to one on one or small group interactions where the conversations get a little deeper or more meaningful. I want to hear what's alive in people, what they're feeling, rather than what they are doing or reacting to. Hence the creation of the first A Mindful Life group in 2016. Little did I know that I was filling that part of me that wants genuine connection.  Hundreds of sessions later, I can also see that even in these groups we can easily stay in shallow waters because that is how so much of our daily interaction takes place. It's simply the muscle that has been strengthened. So lately, I've been emphasizing a certain instruction in the groups when I ask questions that involve inner reflection: listen for what you don't already know. Sometimes, even in a contemplative space, we are asked a question and we immediately answer it as if we already knew the question was coming and the answer is at the tip of our tongue just waiting to be said. It can be true that the answer is so evident that we don't have to think too much about it. We accept the first response that pops in our mind as the "right" response. Other times, we get asked a question and we may just start talking, saying words out of a habitual tendency to fill the space that might express a general idea about what's alive in us. Those are both perfectly fine and can still be generative, but to get deeper more quickly and get more to the essential understanding, or "ah-ha" moment, I suggest that we "listen for what we don't already know." If you already have the answer, if it's obvious, it can't be that interesting to you! To make it interesting, to open it up and to discover, we can ask ourselves more. "Ok, that's what I already know, but what about it? What else is here that isn't so clear yet?" This is when insight and awareness arise. It all becomes more alive and intriguing. You can do this anywhere. It doesn't have to be in the safe confines of a contemplative group like A Mindful Life. You can try it on in conversations with your spouse, or a friend, or family member. We can cut past the obvious and get to what make us feel alive, engaged, connected. We may have to slow down to do it, but we can. Lastly, I don't want to imply that there is no value to be found in small talk.  There certainly is and I do my fair share of it as well. It allows for connection, camaraderie, and playfulness. We can do both -- chit chat and get deep. Then, we can be truly full. My invitation this week is when you notice you are saying what's going on for you in the same way you've already said it, or when what you are saying isn't bringing you to anything new, it just feels like a lot of words, let yourself pause. You might even say, "hold on a second" and ask yourself what more about it does it want you to know or what is essential about what your are expressing? Get curious and the person you are with is likely to get more curious, too.  I welcome your feedback. If you have any thoughts to share on the subject, please send them my way. Have a beautiful week and start to summer! ☀️ Jean P.S. Gaining the skills to drop inside and listen to oneself takes time, practice, and needs support. There are many options to strengthen these skills this summer. Scroll down to see what's coming up. P.S.S. Are you a teacher or know of teachers who are off for the summer and would like to learn to meditate?  Or know a willing student heading off to college in the fall? It's the perfect time to start. Beginning Meditation Series.