I Don't Have To Go There

 

Dear Friends,

Why meditate? What are we actually doing when we meditate? Even if we have been meditating for some time, I think it is worthwhile to ask this question repeatedly so the intention stays fresh. Meditation is not passive and, like anything we do regularly, it helps to not let it become stale and then done halfheartedly.  When we meditate, it looks like we are doing nothing, but in fact, if we are doing nothing, then what we are really doing is a tremendous amount of thinking. Being clear in our intention when we start helps us to remember. In groups, I will occasionally remind us all that "this is not a time to think." Time to think is of value, too, if it is intentional, but when we come to meditate, it is a different task we are asking of ourselves.

Left to itself, our thoughts will just keep going and looping, like a runaway train. Doing nothing at all is often a very busy place for our minds. But paying attention to our mind, observing our mind, we can intervene so that we are not being taken for a ride. I can't say enough about how powerful that is. When I catch myself and say, "Jean, your mind is caught in worrying" or "your mind is caught in planning," I step out of the worrying or planning and then I am free. 

To be aware of what our mind is doing -- what stories, cravings, fears, beliefs, criticisms, attachments, fantasies are manifesting and re-manifesting is an active, on-going process. It takes concentration and staying power. And then it's not just being aware, but being able to intercept. You could say the awareness of a thought alone is an interception. It is. Additionally though, we can make a new choice, switch directions. This is how we change our inner wiring. This is how we get out of habitual worrying, negativity, controlling, doubt, wanting, etc. It takes time. It takes practice. It takes commitment and patience. And we do it because we can live with more presence, joy, and gratitude when we get out of our habitual neuroses. We all have them. Admitting that is also a good place to start! There is nothing wrong with us. It just comes with being human and having to face constant change, impermanence, uncertainty, and ultimately our mortality.

I awoke in the middle of the night one night and couldn't go back to sleep. I didn't have a particular blatant stress weighing on me, but because I couldn't fall back asleep, my mind needed something to do. I watched it call up a painful subject. It was as if it went fishing for something juicy to hook. And it found it. It went to a long standing painful relationship. Even though there is nothing going on with that relationship, nothing that has come up recently, it was an easy catch. What delighted me was that even in that groggy, semi sleep state, I saw what was happening and I didn't let the hook latch on. I intercepted it and simply said, "you don't have to go there, Jean." I dropped it and eventually fell back asleep. Clearly, it came up because there is something unresolved in me about the relationship, but processing it in bed at 2:00 am is not the time to do that. It wasn't going to be a beneficial exploration. It was just going to churn the soil of pain. This is why we meditate. 

Our minds will swish around all kind of things throughout the day, so much of it is unconscious. We don't choose it, but, we can intervene if we are aware, if we are awake, which is what meditation trains us to be. And when we do intervene, we make another choice, which might just be to come back to the present moment. It might be to bring in care and kindness. We stop habitually reacting out of fear and it opens us up to another path that has more love. We gain more clarity and possibility. I have been using that phrase a lot these days. I'll stop my mind and say, "Jean, you don't have to go there." I welcome you to try it, too. 

If you have gotten away from your practice, or if you practice halfheartedly ("maybe later"), or if you don't have a practice yet at all, the great news is that it is never too late to start and begin again without any judgement. September can be a great time as schedules fill in and the spirit of summer changes, we can stop ourselves from getting on the hamster wheel of busyness where our mind goes in many directions and we blindly follow and wonder why we feel anxious, overwhelmed, get sick or depressed. We can have more of a say in where we go, but it doesn't come instantly. It's not like the way we can make instant oatmeal. It takes time. But the time it gives back is tenfold. We find space, we slow down, we experience more of the wonderful gifts we might ordinarily miss.

Wishing you an easeful transition out of summer. 
 
Jean

This Is Not the End of The Story

 

This email goes out on the eve before we drop our son off for his freshman year of college. His twin sister leaves 10 days later and then everything will be different here. Change. It is what we are guaranteed in life. Sometimes it is bittersweet. Sometimes it's not sweet at all and sometimes, as was our move this summer, it is fantastic. How we work with all kinds of change throughout our lives is what makes all the difference in how we experience this life (and, as I've been contemplating from my teachers, in how we die). I feel more inspired than ever about navigating change with as much grace as possible. For all of you out there also navigating change right now, from the change of seasons to our changing body, I invite you to also get inspired. 

It helps to get familiar with what we habitually do. When faced with change, do we contract, get angry, shut down, distract ourselves, self-medicate, blame, get busy? We have so many options! But which allows us open, to expand and feel gratefully alive? I don't think any of the ones above do that for me. So what is the alternative?

I've been noticing, as I get to know a new area of New Jersey, that I don't like  not knowing what lane I need to be in as I drive around the roundabouts in Morristown. I haven't gotten it right yet. And now, I am walking on new trails in the Morristown parks and I don't like not knowing where they go or which ones I like most.  And, honestly, I don't know what I will feel by the end of this month when both kids are off in their very different directions. Throughout this summer, they surely felt my energy saying "you can go now, by-bye!" And other days they felt my utter attachment. Those are just some of the changes I am navigating, but what I am finding is that as long as I show up to the change, feel what it feels like, and go in the new direction no matter what trepidation I feel, I feel more alive. I discover and delight in new things. I realize that I am capable of finding my way. I get out of my small self and I invite others to grow into who they are becoming.

What change are you experiencing? Can you let yourself be in the change itself? Feel all its nuances? Can you know that this is not the end of the story. There is a lot more to it. When we see it that way, we can be inspired, open, curious. We can rest in knowing that "the next step is not the last step." How does it feel to simply be in this process of this step? You might find that it is actually okay. Feeling whatever it is and not adding on more to it. Change is not the problem. Trying to push away what we are afraid might come next...that's what causes suffering. Becoming is all there is. Moment, after moment, after moment.

Because this subject is such a significant one for us, I am happy to be making it a large part of the theme of the fall segment of A Mindful Life and the fall retreat. Even if you can't join us for those, I will keep sharing insights and invite you to keep observing your reactions to change. See if there is another way of relating to it that might feel easier, friendlier. If you remind yourself that "the story doesn't end here" then what?

🌻
Jean

I Can Keep This Moment Simple

 

This past weekend we returned from our annual Maine vacation. After having just unpacked from a move, it felt odd to be packing bags again to go away for a week, but I also knew it was much needed after a particularly full year. We had just finished the summer segments of A Mindful Life where the focus was on play, Right Effort, and rest. It was time to practice what we explored. How do we rest? What does it really mean? How do we play and why does it matter? And, what kind of effort are we putting out (or not) -- how can we be curious about what effort is beneficial and when it tips over into "wrong" effort? Standing on the edge of the dock with the pond entirely to myself, facing the mountains of Acadia National Park, I felt free. I knew a large part of me was at rest.

What does it mean to you to be at rest? Not asleep, not altered by ingesting any substances, but simply to be at rest? What does that look and feel like? What are the conditions, inside and out, that make it possible? Many of us have never pondered the question, but in doing so, it leads to all kinds of helpful information, so I invite you to sit with, or journal on, the reflections and see what you find. Feel free to share them with me.

One thing that was clear to many of us in this exploration was that to be at rest, we have to be free of worry in the moment. I also learned, after navigating a stressful year and a half, I had become in the habit of worrying. Those seeds had been strengthened, for many good reasons, but now it is taking some active work to put down that habit energy. Recognizing what was happening, that my mind kept finding things to worry about, has already shifted me out of it. The good news is that we can change our habits.

To state the obvious -- staying in the present moment is the way out of worry. Simply meeting what is here as it is means I am not in my thoughts anticipating the future, imagining scenarios, caught in ideas about what might be. Instead, I am experiencing what is directly happening. But it takes awareness and the active choice to stay here. Being aware of breathing helps. To that end, I have come to like this particular meditation I started offering this year where the combination of words helps me to do just that. Some of you have heard it before in a group, but now you can listen to it anytime. (You can find Simple & Steady on my website and on the Insight Timer app. (Also, thank you for your likes and comments on the Insight Timer. They help it to get shared and seen by those who might not know me). The lines are:

I can go slowly/I can be at ease
I can keep this moment simple/I can be steady
I can be open in this moment/I can meet this moment softly

How often do we add on to what is here with thoughts that are not real! We unnecessarily complicate things. We can, instead, choose to keep it simple and be with what's here, as it is. Not adding anything on. Standing on the dock, breathing in the fresh air, seeing the reflection of the pines in the water, feeling the breeze on my skin, goosebumps before diving in. Just that. Even in difficult moments, simply naming what is actually happening and nothing more, we realize that we can meet the moment. And, we can meet it softly, not with a hard edge. We don't have to add hardness to what is already hard.

I have two invitations for you this week, to reflect on play and rest and why they matter (it's bigger than we think and as adults, we need to be reminded) and to try out this Simple & Steady meditation. Help yourself by practicing staying in the moment with a gentle, open energy. We can be steady, not scattered by thoughts. It just feels better than the alternative and we can get better at it. We can change what our mind does. Thank goodness!

Wishing you a restful, play-full (if you can), or for those of you with heavier things on your plate, a week of simple presence without adding on more to what is here.

🌻
Jean

What Do You Want?

 

When I was child, one of my favorite holiday movies was Miracle on 34th Street. I haven't seen it since I was kid, but I remember clearly the moment at the end of the film when the daughter insists her mother (radically divorced and independent for the 1940's) pull over because the house she asked Santa for was right there before her eyes for sale. With hesitation, the mother does what her daughter asks and they soon discover that the house is in fact theirs -- a gift from Kris Kringle who they had just defended as being the real Santa Clause, and not mentally insane, in a court of law. 

Last week we moved into our new home. It feels to me like I am living that movie and having that miracle. The only small difference is that Kris Kringle didn't give it to us -- we signed a mortgage. Just a wee small difference. But, still, it feels like a gift. It is everything I want it to be and as I sit here on my front porch, still somewhat in shock that we live here, I am also aware that like Kris Kringle in the film, I am not insane after-all.

I kept thinking my wish for quiet, for nature, for a place to sit outside, for a home I felt proud of, was too much to have, too materialistic of a desire. Do I, someone who made humble choices in careers, really get to have something this beautiful? (Yes, I know, there is a lot of juicy psychological material behind this belief system, but I'll spare you that.) Yet, here we are, and I am grappling with receiving this -- it's a good grappling though. I feel affirmed. My longings weren't shallow. Being here feels like it changes everything inside me. Some huge part of me feels like I can rest now. What I thought was maybe a superficial need, was actually something that mattered to my spirit. It was okay to want that. More than okay, it was important. I wasn't ungrateful for what I had before. I didn't feel resentful, as if I deserved better. I wanted a home to be at peace in.

Thich Nhat Hanh's phrase, "I have arrived, I am home" is one that helps me to remember that I can come home to myself and to the present moment anywhere I am. When I return to my breath, to my body and feel myself here, I have arrived. I am home. It is deeply true to me. And, it is also true that my physical home matters. This home is impermanent. I know that. In a blink it could be gone. All my happiness is not in this home. I can enjoy it it, feel grateful for it and let it bring me more happiness as long as it is here. And this is what we are to do with all things -- humans, animals, nature, material things. Savor and delight in, but not attach.

I am also seeing that it wasn't just a miracle that we got here, but a whole bunch of small "miracles" made by seeds planted and watered over the 50 years of my life, the 61 years of Mike's and the infinite years of so many other lives that allowed this to come to be. Our parents and their hard work, all of our ancestors, the seller of this home and the ones before her, our realtor, our lender, our clients, my family, the earth itself -- the list goes on and on. It wasn't by chance that we landed here. What made this possible was no one thing. It took hard work and the countless dreams of many and it took the time it needed to unfold. This is the part that we often struggle with. We can't see how something will come to be and we may even shrug it off as impossible (not for others, but for us). Or, maybe it doesn't land in the time frame that we want it and think it's just not happening in this lifetime. Or, maybe we get caught in some idea, like I did, that true happiness can't be found externally - that I "should" be happy regardless of my house. Well, I am happy regardless of my house. I'm just more at peace, at ease in this setting I now call home. 

My mentor, of many years, who seems intrinsically wired for seeing possibility, would almost ignore my negativity around what I wanted. I have a feeling she looks at me now and thinks "of course she's in this house." There was nothing that felt certain about it to me, but what I understand now is that for years, I just kept the dream alive. I would talk about it. I would long for it. I would despair over it. She would encourage me to look at houses anyway...long before the conditions were right. She would encourage me to think outside the box of how we could do it financially to which I would shake my head full of "no's". In this final stretch where the dream actually came to fruition, I did what she had been saying all along. I made the call, sent the email, that changed everything in a week. I don't think it could have happened before now. The conditions weren't ripe, but I do believe that the essential condition of not ignoring my needs and saying what my dream was, even when I said it with hopelessness, was nurturing the seed that grew into this home.

Every December, I offer an intentions workshop. Why? Because we have to know what we want to move toward for it to evolve. It might not play out in the exact form that we had envisioned and it might take years of putting the same thing down until one day, we realize that something has manifested. It's not often a sudden arrival, but an evolving. 

What do you want? Is there something that you keep longing for? A relationship, a calmer way of being, less work, more lightness? Whatever it is, I invite you to name it again. Who are you sharing it with? What beliefs are you caught in about it? Name all the assumptions. Ask yourself, "if I got this, what would I feel? How would life feel different?" If it feels different from within, in a beneficial way for you and the beings around you, then it is true. If it is coming from a place of goodness, it is possible. And if you can sense it, it is possible because it is already alive in you which means it's not really an external thing, but an internal lighting that needs a spark. And even when we feel cranky in negativity about how to get it, even then, it is possible.

Listening to our hearts, clear in our intentions, following the path of the Middle Way, the path of mindfulness, remembering our interconnection, we will arrive where we are meant to be. Be kind to yourself and dream. No matter what age you are, what conditions you face, know that you are part of something much larger that is manifesting and you have a say in it. 
🌻
Jean

P.S. If you are  having trouble with your dreams, it helps to have support. I welcome you to have a private session with me and we can unpack what's there that needs light. 

Moving

 

One thing that inevitably puts us in touch with our mortality so clearly is the act of moving. Going through a house your family has lived in and having to make decisions as to what will come and what can be let go forces us to ask again and again, "why am I keeping this?" For many of us, it's exhausting unless you are like my husband who seems to have no attachment to material things. Mike indirectly challenges my practice of letting go. I am grateful for it.

In looking at houses to buy or in renting an Airbnb, I find that these homes (even if staged) are free of clutter and I feel an inner "yes" when I move about them. "This is what I want," it says. Simplicity and clarity. Clean spaces. But achieving this is harder than it appears. In packing, I am faced with so many decisions. There are the easy ones like recognizing "I don't need three pizza cutters" and the harder ones, like a vintage train set sitting in the attic since Mike was a chid. It needs to go, but there's a small ache in me, like there was in selling his childhood pinball machine. How many mugs do we really need? But each one has a story. When I went off to college in the early 90's, my mom spotted a monogrammed "Jean" mug with some words about what people with the name Jean are like. The words happened to capture me and she bought it. This isn't something that she would normally buy, but I was leaving home and we were standing by the register in a store in Ohio, both foreigners in the midwest about to let go and she asked, "can I get this for you?" With my kids also about to leave for college, I understood why she bought it and what it meant. As tears roll down my face now, wow, do I miss her. Who knew a mug could do that.

Material stuff. We don't get to take it with us in the end. And, I don't want to burden my kids with more stuff. I did let the mug go, but I won't forget that she bought it. And that's what matters -- the love it reminds me of. That poignant moment in time. I don't need the mug to do that anymore.

I have let a lot go, but still, I am probably going to take too much from this house to the next. I'm finding it's just a process. Eliminating more and more over time. It does feel good. It feels lighter, even when tears come. This bizarre process of living -- that we have these rich, full lives, and then we leave. What craziness! And what immense beauty. We get to do this. We get to have all these experiences and in the end it's not what we have materially, but what we shared. And so I am grateful for all of the people who have touched me and the moments I shared with them. In the stacks of journals -- thrown out words of my past experiences -- the experiences still stay though the record of them is gone. This is what I really own and this is what informs me of what I give out next. That's enough. 

On a practical level, getting rid of stuff is hugely liberating. I highly encourage this clearing of space even if you are not moving anywhere. My invitation this week is not to move, unless you happen to be, but to see the things around you with appreciation. If you don't feel a sense of appreciation for what is taking up your space, for what is useful to you, contemplate letting it go. Create more inner space by clearing your outer space. 

🧘🏽‍♂️🌼
 Jean

P.S. Clearing space is what we do when we meditate. Join us each week and have a place to do that!

If I can just get to...

 

If you have a meditation or mindfulness practice, most likely you understand the trouble with desire. It's a subject that often arises in Buddhism -- how our desire brings suffering. It's not because desire is bad, but because we get caught in believing that something outside of us will bring us lasting happiness and then we suffer because all things are impermanent and because once we obtain the thing we want, we want something else. We get accustomed to it and a new desire, dream, object becomes shinier. As well as I understand this, I still get caught off guard and realize I have been holding onto some false idea that if I can just get to this place I will be completely satisfied. The latest fantasy falls around my two beloved teenagers graduating high school. 

The end of junior year through the end of senior year is a challenging one -- to say the least. Times it by two (twins) and it's a doozie. And here we are. We are making it to the final days. I am finding that I'm still holding my breath. I am finding that what I thought would feel like some huge shift of relief, of success, of letting go, of I don't know what exactly, but of something big, something that would ultimately bring more ease...well, apparently it's not going to get filled in the way I thought. I mean, I am going to enjoy this accomplishment (of all of ours). Yes, we got through some rite of passage, but with bigger people come bigger problems and many I won't be able to do anything about going forward. So yes, we got through high school. They are still alive. We are still alive (barely). They still love us (I think). But the desire that a box checked would bring some reprieve of responsibility...not so much.  And that's where desire and expectations fall short.

In her book Nothing Special, the late Zen Teacher Charlotte Joko Beck, describes our predicament. She said, “there are two kinds of desires: demands and preferences. Preferences are harmless; we can have as many as we want. Desire that demands to be satisfied is the problem. It's as if we feel constantly thirsty, and to quench our thirst, we try to attach a hose to a faucet in the wall of life. We keep thinking that from this or that faucet, we will get the water we demand.” She goes on to say, “the problem is that nothing actually works. We begin to discover that the promise we hold out to ourselves – that somehow, somewhere, our thirst will be quenched – is never kept. I don't mean that we never enjoy life. Much in life can be greatly enjoyed: certain relationships, certain work, certain activities. But what we want is something absolute. We want to quench our thirst permanently, so that we have all the water we want, all the time. That promise of complete satisfaction is never kept. It can't be kept.”  Does this ring true to you? It does for me.

I find these words comforting because it really is the human predicament. As much as we may intellectually understand that desire is unquenchable, we can still get caught and find ourselves disappointed, again and again. The good news is that we start to recognize it and the disappointment doesn't bring us down for long. I can smile at my misperception and realize that the relief I want is inside me to find and I let go of my attachment that this moment in time should feel a certain way.

Recently, we discovered that a Robin built a nest under the metal awning at our backdoor. When the Robin's eggs hatched, we watched her diligently feeding her chicks. And then one day, my husband went out to move the recycling bin next to the backdoor and the Robin went nutty. Mike then realized the baby birds were learning to fly and in that moment one had flown from the nest and momentarily got caught on the old clothesline above Mike's head. The mama bird fluttered and squawked at Mike until he went away. When he told me the story, I felt better about my own desperately wanting to let let go and the struggle to do so. How I flail about at times lately. It is natural to have trouble letting go of those we love and what they do. We can make messes in the process, but there's nothing wrong. It's just part of life. In light of Charlotte Joko Beck's words, trying to get to a place where we don't feel those pangs of attachment, well that's just trying to attach to another faucet. It's just not going to happen.

My invitation this week is to notice when you get stuck thinking something will nourish you once and for all and smile. It's just what we do. And if you get disappointed in the process, to be gentle with yourself. I don't think the Robin beat herself up or got embarrassed after-the-fact for raising a ruckus when she felt a threat near. She just did what her instincts told her and they all flew on.

🧘🏽‍♂️🌼
 Jean

P.S. In the summer we can be tantalized by the historical feeling that "school is out" and we don't need routines (even if we still have to work). But stopping the routine of our meditation/mindfulness practice doesn't serve us well. In fact, we can enjoy the summer more if we are present and don't miss it! I encourage you to keep it going through the summer. Stay connected.

Pigs, Flowers & Equanimity

I started this reflection a month ago and my routines got thrown off by some unexpected fast moving changes of which I will share more soon. I found I didn't have the mental, emotional or physical space to write and my boss gave me permission to let it go. 😁 I am happy to be back with you this week.

Why is it so hard to let ourselves feel something uncomfortable? It seems obvious. Who wants to be uncomfortable? Nobody. And yet, we can't get through life without feeling it -- on a regular basis at that. That's simply because things change and nothing stays the same (except maybe plastic). But the feelings aren't the hard part. It's avoiding them that causes the most suffering. To feel something uncomfortable is rather straightforward. It's everything else we do to it that makes it worse.

It's amazing just how hard we try to avoid feeling something unpleasant, even hearing someone else's unpleasantries. We try to fix it, numb it, downplay it, blame it on something, or avoid it. If there is anything I wish to pass on to my teenagers it's how to cope with unpleasant feelings without needing to take something or act out in a way that causes harm. I feel like I'm in an uphill battle. Self-medicating is more the norm than not. Instant hits of relief, distraction, and quick doses of dopamine can temporarily pick us up, but they are, as a contractor recently said to me, just like putting lipstick on a pig. It's still a pig. And there is nothing wrong with pigs!

It sometimes feels lonely living in a way that allows a pig to be a pig. No lipstick. Letting it roll in the mud, hearing it snort or squeal and not trying to make it other than what it is. Other people don't want us to be pigs either. We share something hard and they try to fix us rather than empathize. I know I catch myself doing it with those closest to me. I remind myself that it's okay to be in the mud without being fixed and it's okay to be in a state of flow and ease without being a source of envy. We can let pigs be pigs and flowers be flowers and experience them all just as they are. 

It's not the hard feeling that's the problem. It never is. It's our reaction to the feeling. So that tells us right there what the solution is! Just feel the feeling. It's unpleasant and that's ok. It feels like this right now. In A Mindful Life, we started the spring segment on the subject of meeting what's here with equanimity (without judging things as good or bad or in any binary way, without attaching or pushing away, etc.) It's not so easy because we are human. We have likes and dislikes and we want to stay comfortable. But what if true happiness was found in letting ourselves simply feel what we feel without adding judgments on top and without rushing in to act? Why not try? Meditation teaches us how. We sit and stay with what arises and we notice when we get pulled away and we try again. We sit and stay and notice the constant flow of likes and dislikes and we aren't swayed by them.

My invitation this week is to let pigs be pigs and flowers be flowers and flow between them both simply as experiences without grasping or pushing away. In doing so, we flow more smoothly with what life is presenting. It's just easier. Is there something hard on your plate right now? Can you let it be hard? Can you feel what it's like in your body to experience this and breathe with it there? Can you let yourself be in the unknown of what happens next?

🧘🏽‍♂️🌼
 Jean

This One Ability Has So Much Power

 

Last weekend I had the good fortune of having 16 members of A Mindful Life join me on retreat at the Dharmakaya Center for Wellbeing in upstate New York. Our theme for the weekend was Cultivating Joy. I started by saying that though there has been a great deal of dis-ease in this country and in the world over the past several years, we should not wait for an easier time to focus on joy. Cultivating joy right now can only help our situation. And so that is what we did over three days.

We dove into many aspects of joy -- what it feels like, what conditions it arises from, the difference between joy and happiness, the joy that comes from generosity, the joy of another's joy, the essential ingredients of presence and gratefulness in joy, the role of self-care in joy, finding joy in endings/closings and in our resilience. In this week's pause, I'll share one simple avenue to joy that we also worked with. Our smile. 

We were born to smile. We have the innate ability to do it. How amazing is that! We were given this expression and just think how powerful one's smile is! Try it, picture someone you love smiling. Really see their face. Isn't it hard not to smile back! It is contagious. And now, sense how you feel when you are smiling. I feel warmth, relaxation, joy when I take in someone's genuine smile and smile back. 

So, why don't we use this simple gift we were born with more often? We can smile at people we know and people we don't know. We can smile at ourselves when we look in the mirror. We can smile inside, just so slightly that only we may know we are smiling. You might have noticed that many statues of the Buddha have just a slight smile. That's all it takes to feel it inside. We can have a huge smile and show all our teeth if we choose! No matter how large or small, it is its own medicine. 

On the retreat, I shared a meditation that organically came to me one day years ago and I am happy to share it with you, too. It is simple. Read the instructions and then get comfortable, set a timer for 5 minutes and give it a try. 

• Start by sensing your breathing. Without changing it, just feel when you breathe in and when you breathe out and begin to follow along. You might simply say, "breathing in/breathing out."
• Call up people in your life. In any random order, picture someone in your life. Let them float up like a bubble, see their face, and wait until you can see them smile. Once you can visualize their smile, smile back and let them float away. Be patient if you can't see the smile right away.
• Let the next person float up to your consciousness and do the same. Don't rush. Don't start thinking about the person, just see their smile and smile back and move on.
• Do this with anyone who comes to mind.
• At the end notice how you feel.

Please write back and share your experience. We can do this anytime. When the world starts weighing on you, see people smiling in your mind and in your life. Smiling costs us nothing and may be the biggest gift we can give and receive. But we have to let ourselves receive it, so be sure to pause and let someone's smile in. The benefit is even greater that way.

Wishing everyone who is celebrating a Happy Passover and a Happy Easter and a Happy Spring Break!

🌷
 Jean

Embracing All Of What Spring Entails

 

What does growth actually look like? Often, I find it looks like this picture above. Walking in the woods this past weekend, I was delighted by seeing these first patches of white flowers after winter. I have come to learn that they are called Snowdrops. Discovering the name itself was delightful! I bent down to take a close up picture and I went to remove a dead leaf that was lying on top of them only to find that one of the flowers had grown through a hole in the leaf. It was the perfect depiction of growth, how it is not necessarily straightforward, or easy, but if we are determined, we will find a way. 

In my life, I find that growth is often very uncomfortable. It forces me to reckon with what I don't know. It forces me to remember humility. It forces me to confront what I can't understand yet and in doing that, it has me face what I fear. So spring, a time of growth, renewal, and a return to life, while beautiful and awe-inspiring, can also entail necessary challenges and discomfort. But, thank goodness for the ability to stick through the hardship to get somewhere new. Thank goodness that this flower didn't stop when it hit the leaf, but it stayed on course and found a way through it. Life would cease to be if this didn’t happen.

Speaking of growth, recently, I was forced to confront a situation I felt a strong aversion to. Everything in my body was in revolt. I wanted it to just go away. I still do, but now I have “pushed through the leaf,” what was my original obstacle, and I feel myself stretching and growing. It is still uncomfortable. I would rather it not be there, but it is, and that's what's true. This is here, along with my deep aversion, and so what am I going to do next? My growth has been in asking myself to show up and see how I can meet it with as much kindness, compassion, and patience as I can muster.

I had two helpful messages come to me during this time of confronting what was so unpleasant. The first happened sitting in an emergency room on a Friday night. If you have ever sat in an emergency waiting room, you know that you can be there for quite a while. I watched all kinds of people come through the doors. I watched the room fill up, gradually thin out, and fill up again. I watched people come moaning in pain. I watched people leave relieved to be going home. The lesson came when I watched a crew of volunteer EMT workers come in to drop two men off. They didn't just admit them and leave. They made sure to say goodbye and to wish them well. It wasn't just in their words, the care was in their eyes and in their gestures. It didn't matter who these guys were, what state they were in, what race, what economic status, they treated them like human equals, like people worthy of their attention, like people with feelings and needs. For many of us, these two men they dropped off were people we might want to turn away from, or ignore, but they didn't and it was beautiful and it was just what I needed to see.

The second message came in having a conversation with my sister about my father. She reminded me how all kinds of people would come through his restaurant in New York City and how he never turned anyone away. Some really unusual characters would come through his tiny, West Village landmark. He wasn't threatened. He would let the person who sat there talking to themselves, mumbling how the waitress was a whore (my sister), have their coffee and toast. He would simply help the person next to them move over if they were uncomfortable. My dad has been gone for 24 years now, but there was something about remembering this detail of how he was with his customers that showed me how I could be. It reminded me that I could feel an aversion to something without turning away from it and that, in fact, it feels a lot more powerful, a lot more connecting, a lot more brave.

As we face this new season which invites us to awaken and renew, it can be helpful to slow down and recognize the gifts of life returning in all its fullness AND to acknowledge what it takes to open up, to stretch, and to grow into this world again. We must hold them both, the joy of unfolding and the growing pains in the process. We can remind ourselves that there is nothing wrong. It's all part of becoming. We are always becoming. 

Wishing you a light filled spring, abundant in awe and growth, and the courage and patience to be in the process of its unfolding to arrive at even more life than we thought was possible. 

Oh! I can't ignore the Irish half of me. My mom and grandma would appreciate my recognizing St. Patrick's Day. A familiar and timeless blessing for you:

May the road rise up to meet you.

May the wind be always at your back.

May the sun shine warm upon your face;

the rains fall soft upon your fields and until we meet again,

may God hold you in the palm of His hand.

🌱☘️
Jean

How would life feel different if...

 

In the last edition of A Mindful Pause, I talked about how meeting sandpaper with sandpaper only causes damage and how we can cultivate a gentler way of being with ourselves so that we can meet the world with more love and kindness. Continuing with this theme of love and kindness, this week's pause is to look at how we are habitually inclined to see others. More often or not, do we walk around assuming goodness in those we see and interact with, or are we more guarded and needing others to first prove their goodness before we are friendly, open, giving in return?

How we walk through the world with people is often dictated  by how we grew up and what was passed onto us. Our family histories, our parents, teachers, friends, religions, culture, our individual experiences all shape the way we navigate snd see other people. So many factors come into play with how safe or open we feel among people. It can be helpful to be aware of what we do and where it comes from so that we can make choices, now, that aren't just habitual or learned.

You could start simply by noticing what your tendency is. While we are not just one thing, we do have inclinations. Do you have a greater tendency to approach people, or even just the start of a day, with openness, or more guardedness, ready to defend, or having to prove something? Take a moment to close your eyes, drop inside, and ask yourself this question. Whatever you find, know that it is due to many factors that go way beyond our doing, so welcome what you find with curiosity and care. There are positive attributes to both.

From here, if you find you are genuinely open and see goodness in people first without anxiety or fear, rejoice. You have been given a gift. Thank your ancestors and all that allows you to be this way.

If, on the other hand, you have a greater tendency to hold back, or be ready for a fight, or you wait for the other person to smile before you do, or maybe you don't regard strangers much at all, try this on for size... just let yourself imagine (drop inside and feel this one out) and ask yourself slowly, "what would life be like if I lived less in fight, flight, freeze mode and more in tend and befriend mode? What if I were to look at all beings assuming goodness and approached them with warmth, openness, kindness, curiosity. What if I didn't need to prove my value, defend myself, and what if I stopped judging and dropped my assumptions? What if I wanted anyone I came into contact with, anyone I thought about, see, or read about to be happy, safe, healthy, loved? How would life feel different living from this way of perceiving? How would I hold myself, move, feel differently?"

What did you find? If we run anxious, angry, judgmental, most likely we are not seeing goodness first. That's okay! There are reasons for it. We can also change it if we want to. And why would we do that? Because life feels better that way. I'm not saying to be open with anyone, or overly trusting, but to trust ourselves enough that we can drop the layers of armor that keep us from connecting, from being kind and generous first.

My nature is to be loving and kind. I know that. Without any doubt, I started out that way. I also know that after a handful of years of being in the world, my experiences caused me to walk through it a lot more guarded. I wish I awoke each day and felt simply open, but it hasn't been in my cards for many reasons. So now, I get to practice and it is actually fun to stretch, to be intentional about seeing people and welcoming them in my heart without thinking they were out to judge me, get something from me, belittle me, intimidate me, look for what I am doing wrong, discount my opinion. What a difference it has made to change this! It has taken many years and will always be a work in progress for me, but how I approach people now is nothing like when I was 25. And the potential for more is so rich and exciting. I know, too, that as I grow older, I have experience behind me and years of gaining awareness through meditation and mindfulness -- awareness of what I do so that I can then choose what I do. I trust myself and trust in the power of presence, kindness, compassion, my own resilience. It's a relief to live with more ease and hopeful to know I can have even more.

Feel free to write back what you found in this exploration. And if you want to live from a greater place of tend and befriend, rather than fight, flight, freeze, join us at the studio. A Mindful Life groups start spring segments in April and the drop-in meditation groups are available to help support you.

🧘🏽‍♂️
Jean

We Don't Have To Be Sandpaper

 

The world is feeling a bit rough. Like the coarsest sandpaper. Not only are we being worn down, but some deep scratches are being made. In response, I've made the choice to emphasize love and kindness this month and for as long as is needed. When we meet something coarse, our habitual response can be to meet it with the same level of grit and yet grit against grit just gets ugly. The sound, the feel, the texture, the result is not so pleasant or beneficial. We can meet what's here in a better way. Let's start with ourselves and let it seep out into the world.  On a recent weekend, I spent time with a wonderful group of people who wanted to strengthen self-kindness. In the workshop, I suggest a way of befriending the critical part of ourselves. It's usually not our instinctual response, but if we meet our self-critic with irritation, we feed it. Like meeting sandpaper with sandpaper. There are other ways to go about it. They involve getting curious enough to ask what the fear is behind the self-criticism ("are you afraid that I..."), relate to the fear ("of course that would be scary"), bring in compassion (not fixing or talking it out of it), recognize the unmet need(s), and then be a friend to ourselves. We are not solving anything, but this process softens the hard edge we can have and moves us to another place. We can do it again and again until it becomes second nature to take care of our suffering. We are capable of doing that. We don't need a drug, a drink, an escape. We don't need a new lover, a new animal, a new trip. We don't need someone else to fill what has felt like a void. Here is also a simple mindset shift that we can do: Choose one thing that you hear from your self-critic. Just one. Name it (for example my critic says, "who are you to spend so much time in contemplation!"). Now, just imagine. You don't have to know how to do it, but just imagine if you stopped saying that one thing altogether, how would life feel different? If you no longer told yourself that you waste too much time or you're not smart enough, not capable, or you're a bad parent, or don't earn enough, etc., what would you feel instead? What might be possible without that? Some of  words I heard last week in response to this were free, capable, confident, at ease, joyful, light, more open. Of course we would feel these things! The fact that we can imagine what it would be like tells us that it is possible. Part of us knows that. We can water those seeds by being aware when the critical voice arises and in that moment make another choice. You might simply say "and if I didn't say this to myself right now, what would I do? What would I feel?" Let the answer to that dictate what happens next. It won't be the same as what your critic would have you do. We can stop using harsh words. We can stop the kind of crass, insensitive, "base" level talk that has emerged in our society. For it to really change, we need to start with ourselves. When we don't feel good about ourselves, we take it out on the people and groups around us. When we threaten ourselves (as our critic does), we act from fear and then we easily become judgmental of others and righteous. We add more fear. It has a snowball effect. What we are afraid of isn't our fault. It most likely came about a very long time ago because of causes and conditions way beyond our doing. So we may not be able to change that, but we can change what we do next and what we we pass on next.  We can start close to home and strengthen the inner structure of ourselves so we are strong, solid, steady, and free. From that place we can be of real use. No longer afraid, we can be generous and loving. 🧘🏽‍♂️ Jean P.S. If you missed the Strengthening Self-Kindness Workshop and this email draws your interest, please reach out to me and I will plan one for the spring.

Give Yourself A Banana

 

The most frequent comment I hear about meditation is how different it feels to do in a group, rather than alone. People find it easier to commit and to concentrate with other people also practicing. When we are alone, there is no one holding us accountable and there isn't the focused energy in the room of other living beings getting still and quiet. In the last A Mindful Pause, I spoke about motivation and connecting to the "why" (why are we doing this) as the source of inspiration to carry through any task. This week, I want to focus on the self-guiding part of the equation that is needed when we are meditating together, but especially when we are practicing alone.

If I were to sit down to meditate and did not guide myself, even if someone else was also guiding me, my mind would be all over the place, swinging from thought to thought like a monkey swings from branch to branch. When someone else is guiding, their voice and words help bring me back, but I still need to guide myself to listen to them and to follow their directions, and to not wander in between. I need to provide my mind with something so it can settle down. Like giving a monkey a banana, it has a chance to stop and focus on just eating the banana. In meditation, I too, need a banana. 

What does it mean to give oneself a banana? It means giving ourselves a focal point, a place our mind can settle on and come back to when it gets diverted. It's like a home base. Sensing our inhale and exhale is a focal point. Listening to the sounds of the present moment can be a focal point. A phrase or mantra can be a focal point. We start our meditation centered on this chosen object of our attention and with the intention to keep coming back to that one thing. I need to direct myself there. It's not a one and done deal. I need to keep guiding myself. I hate to say it, but meditation is not effortless. It can have a quality of effortlessness, but it does take actively doing something.

So, if you thought you were just "bad" at meditating on your own, maybe that's not it all! Maybe you just needed more of your own direction and to know that's a major part of it. That discipline of self-direction is a gift we give ourselves. We learn that we can develop grit and we can stay even when the desire to do something else is pulling at us. It is very powerful to feel capable of staying the course.

When we do practice together, it strengthens our resolve, but when we also practice on our own, we become true mindful warriors. It's not enough to know how to meditate. The fruits of it only come in the doing. It also helps to know that it's not an overnight or instantaneous process. If you took one class or series and think that because you don't do it yet on your own it's not worth your time, that's because you have some idea that it should be a certain way, or you should be a certain way, or it should be easy, or maybe a goal you set is tripping you up (trying to get to a peaceful place). Let go of achieving something, let go of being good or bad at it, and just meditate. Keep it simple. Just stay with your object of concentration as best you can and keep returning when you drift. Don't worry about the result.

My invitation this week is to practice more, but with the clear intention of guiding yourself throughout the time you allotted. Even if you come together to practice in a group, you still need to guide yourself. Give yourself a banana and let yourself stop swinging from branch to branch. Your mind won't do it on its own. Meditation is not passive. You're nervous system will be grateful for the rest even if you have to apply some effort to do it.

🧘🏽‍♂️
Jean