Working With Our Reactivity Changes What Happens Next

 

I try to be a grounding source. I prefer to not add to hysteria or speak in extremes, but I’ve got to say it. It feels like we are at some critical edge in this country and in this world. And because of that, it means that we are also at a critical edge individually.

Civilization is awash in so much distrust, anger, fear, conflict, violence, greed, and self-interest. Lawsuits, threats, riots, the dismantling of systems and alliances that humans painstakingly built to protect us, the Earth, and to keep peace, are being thrown out. Among so many leaders, the value of working together, of seeing that our wellbeing is dependent on the wellbeing of all of those around us, has been dropped. Hubris abounds. It is hard to watch what we took as steady and solid now crumbling. It’s like watching a train wreck that could have been avoided. If you feel the weight of these times, you are human. I am with you in feeling like things are not okay. And yet, this is what is. It’s not about fair or right, but our human situation doesn’t feel okay. It will change, one way or another. We have gotten here for a reason, and we have choices we can make. We can react or we can respond, and the two are very different. One is also a lot harder than the other.

In recent weeks in A Mindful Life, we have been working with non-reactivity. How to strengthen our ability to not react habitually so that we can make more empowered, mindful choices in what we think, say, and do. So much destruction, misunderstanding, and suffering comes when we react habitually—when we can’t find the space to step back, listen, sense, and feel so that we know the most beneficial way to respond. Developing that ability is hard work and not something to master. Looking to be free of reactivity isn’t the goal. If there is a truck coming at us, we want to react. But most of the time, that’s not the situation. So how do we practice non-reactivity?

I find that there are 4 components that change our habitual reactivity. They sound obvious, but they aren’t easy! When practiced regularly, they become habits we want. And habits like these I do think change the world. They change what happens next, and that is a powerful thing. I think we could all use something that reminds us that we have an impact in times when it can feel like we don’t. These 4 interconnected practices are:

~ Mindfulness Meditation (staying in the present, observing, and finding space)
~ Slowing down (in every way—words, actions, the breath, thoughts firing)
~ Being more embodied (connected to your body and what’s arising in you)
~ Being curious (when we get curious, we aren’t reactive)

They take repetition, dedication, and reminding. Especially in our world today, when each of those go against the norm. Everything comes at a fast pace. Screens and devices have taken away our ability to sense and feel and be connected to our body. We rely on apps that tell us all our metrics rather than develop an inner listening and inner guide. And when we can’t slow down and listen, we can’t get curious. When we can’t be curious, we can’t learn, understand, grow. We can’t be creative. When there is a complex situation, we need these abilities.

Knowing this is good news! We can start practicing right now.

Meditate Regularly: We practice meditating and staying in the present so that we can strengthen the muscle to not react to thoughts, feelings, and sensations as they come in. We can name what arises, and when we do, we step back from it. We create space. We do it again and again so that in our daily life, it becomes easier to do. If you aren’t meditating regularly, or you got away from it, can you recommit to yourself? (If you need help, reach out.)

Slowing Down: Everything moves fast today, but we can make the choice not to. When we slow down, we have more presence, awareness, more choice; we savor more, and we get to choose what we do. That doesn’t mean we move like a sloth; we are just more present. And when we are more present, we take in so many wonderful things that we would normally miss. Life is too short to miss out. I’ve been asking my groups if they enjoyed their shower that day. Unless you only have cold water, what’s not to enjoy in a shower? So this week, notice when you are moving, talking, driving quickly, and just see what happens if you shift gears and slow it down. How much more do you see and receive when you aren’t fast? Driving slower is especially fascinating. When the car is moving fast, we are moving fast, and our nervous system picks up on it. If we are feeling anxious, why add to it?

Being Embodied: If we are in a hurry or not present, we also can’t listen to ourselves. If I am not aware of what’s alive in me, I will respond in ways I might regret, or I won’t take care of what I am needing, which leads to more suffering. How often in the day do we know what we are feeling? We can check in with ourselves often and ask ourselves, “what am I feeling?” And, “what am I aware of in my body as I do this, or listen to this?” Being aware of ourselves gives us choice. It will inform what we do next.

Being Curious: Lastly, being curious is the opposite of being reactive. When we are curious, we are open; we want to learn and have humility; we seek understanding; we aren’t attached to outcomes or to knowing it all; we aren't judgmental. And to be curious, we need to be present, to slow down, to sense and feel (the other 3!). I had my groups call up a time when someone was truly curious about them—not to get anything from them, just pure interest in who they were. You can think about it for yourself. It is such a nice feeling and, as someone pointed out, when someone is curious about us, it sparks our curiosity. It is so true. We can all be that person. We can create that goodness and be that open. It will bring us together.

We all have the capacity to do these things if we want to.

Over the past couple of weeks, I have heard inspiring examples in my groups of the moments when people made small shifts in these areas and how profound they can be. You will have them, too. I am certain of that. All we need is micro-moments throughout the day of coming into presence, slowing down, feeling connected, and getting curious. It’s a lot more calming and peaceful, even in times like these. There will always be suffering and the conditions for joy at the same time. We can meet all these moments. We are all at a critical edge where we must choose how we want to be in the world to affect what happens next, because whether it feels like it or not, we are all affecting what happens next.

Warmly,
Jean

P.S. It's the last week to sign up for the winter session of A Mindful Life (Feb/Mar)! Some groups are full, but the Monday Zoom and Friday in person groups have some space. 

Making Space

 

Dear Friends,

As we journey through January, I am feeling a strong pull to clear away the thick web of news, events, constant self-talk, busyness. Instead I am drawn to slowing down and feeling myself simply breathe. In everything I do -- simply breathe. It is as though something in me knows there is another way to be in the world, in this time. In this season of winter, in this season of so much worldly disruption. I am being pulled toward the wonderful open feeling of space that is right here when I don't fill it. I write that and I worry it sounds too lofty or overly blissful. Or maybe it sounds disengaged from the realities of what is happening in the world. It really isn't and I am fully aware of what is going on. Much of which is more disturbing or unsettling than not. To not read more news than is necessary, to stay off of social media as much as possible, to enjoy the sound of the wintery wind, to not think of improving, but to rest in whatever this place is -- this has been my siren call in these first days of the year. I share it because embracing it feels so right and I know from experience that if I am feeling this call, most likely so are others. 

A dear friend gave me a book by Thich Nhat Hanh, one that I haven't yet read. It has short daily words of wisdom. One paragraph or two. In the past, with the overwhelm of the busyness of life, I might not have enjoyed the brevity of these passages as I am now. Just taking a line or maybe just a word from it and letting it awaken something in me feels like all I need. Choosing to let it. That is enough these days. Simplicity in a time that is far from simple.  

I stuck to my intention of removing Facebook from my phone on New Year's Eve and don't regret it. I imagine myself going more and more in that direction. Embracing more quiet. The world doesn't need my fight. At least I don't think it does. I'm not a fighter, though I know it is possible for me to be one. It is in me. What I know is that my output is more useful in other ways. It always has been.

The universe desperately needs beneficent energy. Don't you think so? To be a force of steadiness and calm? To be present and therefore, grateful? Isn't that what we need? Too Pollyanna? My critic might say so, driven by fear, but not the part of me that is more connected to the whole of life -- the part that understands impermanence, humility, connection, grace. This part of me knows how powerful it is to be able to clear some space and be present. To enjoy the simple. To stop insisting on having my way or fighting because it is not going my way. You want to go faster than me on the highway, I'll move over. "You go ahead," I say. There is plenty of space. 

What does it mean to you to allow space in your life? In your daily movements, in your interactions, in your thoughts? How does it change your experience to slow down and do just one thing? To receive just one thing?

My invitation this month is to welcome space, which often means we need to clear a space of anything extra that takes away from our experience. Remove the clutter, the extraneous, the opinions, the chatter, the improvements, the lists and just be. You'll still get what is needed done, but it is likely to be a lot more fulfilling. Simpler. Just take one thing and enjoy that one thing. Let your eyes open to enjoy what's here because there is so much that is wonderful to behold, to see, to feel.

The perfect lines in the shadow on the wall as the sunlight streams through the blinds. That is wonderful. The sun rising behind the mountain, casting a pink blaze behind the bare trees in the distance. That is wonderful. The calm voice of my meditation teacher. That is wonderful. Recalling someone's smile. That is wonderful. Can you give yourself the gift of making space to experience these things? How might you clear space so that you may be filled?

I'll close with this poem by Martha Postlethwaite:

Clearing
Do not try to save
the whole world
or do anything grandiose.
Instead, create
a clearing
in the dense forest
of your life
and wait there
patiently,
until the song
that is your life
falls into your own cupped hands
and you recognize and greet it.
Only then will you know
how to give yourself to this world
so worthy of rescue.

Warmly,
Jean

What's Your End of Year Ritual?

 

We have entered the last month of the year and, yes, a new year will begin and we will start another cycle of seasons, but will you take a pause before you begin again? Will you take stock, reflect, digest, let go, and allow yourself to renew? To live life consciously, in this way, is a wonderful thing. This week's pause is an invitation to set aside time to do just that—to not rush the year's end, to not hurry toward a break or a holiday or the shopping, but to savor the winding down of a year and all that has transpired, so you can feel its fullness—so that you might be able to say “wow” before you move on. From that “wow,” you might smile in delight at the wonder of life and all it encompasses.

Sometimes, in a moment of joy or deep contentment, I stop and think, “If this were my last moment, I am okay. I am full enough, and this life has been enough.” It’s not a wish for anything to end; it’s simply the feeling of having been filled in so many ways. I feel complete. It’s a great feeling. I also know I have no say in it—I may live a very long time and have to let go of much more before I let go. I don’t get to decide when is “enough,” but still, it is nice to feel so complete. When we do, we make different choices; we see with different eyes. We aren’t searching as much, but savoring more. We have to give ourselves a chance to feel that by reflecting.

A whole year of life holds an incredible amount within it. It is amazing, really. We are not the same people we were a year ago. We shed that skin, literally and figuratively. Who are we now? What does our heart know about how we wish to spend our time and energy in this next cycle? Are we listening?

Many of you know the rituals I keep at the end of the year because you have taken part in them. My Mindful Reflections & Inspired Intentions Workshops and the New Year’s Day Meditation & Bell Ringing (though I am taking a break from it this year) are part of that process. They are essentially rituals that bring mindful presence to what we do. We all have rituals, but if you don’t have one to close the year, I welcome you to create one of your own.

What would it look like? What would feel good to you—something that brings forth a sense of reverence for your life? Because your life is amazing. It is a wonder to appreciate. It might be as simple as taking a solitary walk in nature on the eve of the New Year or the day itself. It might be writing about the experiences of the year (or taking my workshop and doing it in community). It might be something spiritual that calls to you. It might be making a piece of art, music, dance, or poetry—or simply improvising and playing. It might be meditating or sitting quietly for some time without mindless rumination. Your life is worth honoring in this way.

May these days of lessening light be rich in fullness and possibility. I welcome hearing what you choose to do.

Warmly,
Jean

P.S. For a number of reasons, I have decided to pause my yearly offering on New Year’s Day. I am sorry if that has become part of your ritual. However, I welcome you to join me for one of the two workshops (see below), and I will be offering a recorded meditation for the New Year—so keep a lookout for it!

How Much Challenge Is Enough/Not Enough?

 

Just before the retreat, a longtime and dear member of A Mindful Life asked me if I was more comfortable now leading retreats. My response to her was that I don’t think I’ll ever be comfortable. I am simply more comfortable being uncomfortable.

I told her that every group I lead each week at the studio is uncomfortable. I have greater tolerance for it and I find that, though it is a challenge, it is worth it. And yes, some parts of leading a retreat or conducting weekly groups are certainly easier. I know the routines, the structure, and the people involved. But I never know how the material I present is going to land—if the questions I am curious about will be the questions others are curious about. And, of course, I can never know what is happening inside each person, which will inform how they receive what I present.

That alone is a challenge we all face daily when we encounter other people. If we are awake and aware, we realize how complex any single interaction is. We have our own feelings, thoughts, perceptions, and needs—and the person before us has their own. That’s a lot! Put a group together and it becomes a complex stew.

I recently came across Dr. Arthur Brooks (Harvard professor, writer, and researcher on the subject of happiness) talking about how feeling a sense of satisfaction comes from doing hard things—and I would add, doing meaningful things. I know in my life that if I want to feel a sense of meaning and purpose, I’m going to have to challenge myself to some degree. And so, I am willing to take on the challenge of facilitating weekly groups where I bring in themes and questions, hoping they will invoke reflection, curiosity, and insight in those who contemplate them.

Sometimes it feels like a daunting task to do this every week for years on end. As I approach my 51st year, what I am starting to discover is how much of a challenge is enough. I’m starting to realize that the groups and retreats I lead are enough of a challenge. I don’t want any more—at least, not right now. My body is starting to indicate clearly when I ask myself to stretch any further and take on a new request. I’m seeing that I need to say “no.”

It’s not that I’m just afraid. There is fear, of course, but it’s not a lack of courage or confidence in the face of it. It’s an understanding that what I currently have before me is enough of a challenge. My entire adult life has been about facing challenges—about being outside my comfort zone more often than not. I'm guessing yours has been, too? I know I am ready now to have a little more ease and just enough challenge to feel a sense of satisfaction.

My invitation this week is to reflect on your own life and the current degree of challenge in it. Is there enough challenge so that you feel engaged and alive, and feel a sense of satisfaction in meeting it? Is there too much challenge, where the pressure is relentless and it might be showing signs—in your body, your sleep, your joy? Is there anything you would like to add, or anything you would like to take away, to find a more balanced middle ground?

As always, I welcome your thoughts and insights. Wishing you a beautiful week filled with just the right amount of challenge—and much joy.

Warmly,
Jean

Ask This One Question Often

 

Last week, 14 brave souls attended my retreat at the Dharmakaya Center for Wellbeing in the Catskills of New York. From Friday evening through Sunday afternoon we explored aspects of growing old, the inevitability of the body's decline, the fact that we will eventually be separated from everything we love, and that what we do here, in body and mind, is all we truly own. They are not subjects for the weak of heart, yet our lives are often driven by the fear of them, which makes them so necessary to reflect on. The unaddressed fears of our impermanence lead to stress, sickness, unhealthy relationships, all kinds of addictions, endless material consumption, and, yes, wars. Being willing to have these conversations with oneself and with others deflates the monster out of them. Like a blow-up Halloween decoration, once unplugged, it simply falls away and loses its fright. We did a bit of that unplugging on the retreat. I want to share one simple prompt from the weekend with all of you. It's one that I think makes us more alive, which is ultimately the point of it all.

Inspired by the work of the late Stephen Levine and his book A Year To Live, (of which there are courses on the subject should you be interested), I invited everyone to keep asking themselves, throughout the weekend, this simple question: if this were the last time I could do this thing, how would I do it? If this was the last time I could take a shower, look into this person's eyes, go to bathroom on my own, taste this blueberry, walk this path, how would I do it? I can't think of anything that brings us into greater presence than that contemplation. Not to be used as a threat, but as an awakening. I likened it to imagining doing something for the first time. Experiencing something fresh and being delighted. Why not ask it all the time and be delighted moment after moment. We get to do this thing called living. The hard moments and the pleasant ones. What an amazing thing.

My invitation this week is that simple. Throughout the day, ask this of yourself, "if this were the last time, how would I...?" And then enjoy it. Gratitude will naturally spring forth. See the monsters deflate as you feel full from your experiences all day long. And when you forget, as you likely will, you get to ask it again.

Wishing you many happy treats this week.

Jean

What We Can Do With Worry

 

I think it is fair to say that if you are human, you likely worry. With everything always in flux it is only natural that we tend to worry. Some of us are in the habit of doing it more than others, but that’s all it is, a habit and we can change our habits if we want to. Not overnight, but with practice, we can change the direction of our thought patterns and give ourselves a break.  

The practices of meditation and mindfulness are about being present and aware. The more we practice observing ourselves, the more quickly we can catch ourselves in a moment of worrying. So much worrying happens with us unaware that we are actually doing it, but whether we are aware or not, it takes a toll on us. We have to recognize that we are worrying in order to make a different choice. It’s not enough to know that we tend to worry, we have to do something to intervene. Like any habit, it won’t stop on its own. My husband would cringe at my “talking football” but the image of an interception in football is the perfect one for what to do with a worry. I can intercept my worry and go in a different direction. 

I started doing something that feels like a very simple, but powerful shift and I welcome you to give it a try. It goes like this…

Let's say I am worrying about someone I love. Maybe I'm worried about their actions or I'm worried about their health. The first interception is the moment I realize that I'm spinning on all the “what ifs”. Already, I’ve stopped worrying to have another thought –  the awareness that I am worrying. The second intervention is to ask myself, “why do I care; why am I worrying about this?” If I answer that question honestly, it is going to come down to the fact that I love this person. I really love this person. When I acknowledge that truth, I shift my attention onto that love which has a warm sensation, maybe a joyful sensation. I’ve just radically changed my experience. I move my attention away from the worry toward what matters and to what is real. The thoughts of my worry aren’t real (they are future oriented thoughts, not actuality), but the love, joy or warmth I feel is real. I can sit and rest in that love, in that joy, and recognize what a gift it is to have. Even if just for a moment, it is far different than sitting in the anxiety of worry. I’ll probably need to repeat it, but at least I stop feeding it every time I do this practice and I can get better at catching it sooner, even as it is brewing.

You can do this practice with anything you worry about. If I'm worried about my health –  let's say I find out that my cholesterol is high, I can spin in all directions over the “what ifs” or I can stop and I can say “why does it matter?” It matters because I love living and feeling good. I move my attention to the fact that I love being alive and I actually feel great and appreciate feeling good. What a nice thing! I can smile at that. I intercept the worry and I replace it with what is at the core of it, which is a very good thing, not a bad thing. I can then breathe with and savor the good feeling. 

It is such a small but powerful thing we can do to change the way we feel in any moment. We can move the dial, change the song, redirect and help ourselves. The trick is that it has to be felt, not just thought so that the warm feeling of goodness changes us. Give it a try. More than once. Let me know what you find.

15 of us are heading to the A Mindful Life retreat this weekend at The Dharmakaya Center in upstate NY where we are diving into the Five Remembrances. My hope is that in looking at our impermanence, we will be opening the door to more joy and freedom while we are here. I look forward to sharing what we discover together. 

Wishing you all a week full of joyful moments and as much ease as possible.

Jean

Having A Daily Intention

Do you awake each day and remind yourself how you want to live that day? With all the unrest of this time, getting clear in myself and not lost in all the blame and distrust feels more necessary. I would like to stop and take that time. It's not a lot of time. It's a pause to remember. To get clarity. Meditation is also a pause, a way of stopping the habitual, resetting, slowing down, and getting connected. But lately, I have been wanting to have something I say that captures what I really want to bring into each day. My gift to you this week is just that -- in a recording, as well as an invitation. 

Today, I have uploaded a daily intention meditation that, should the words speak to you, you can play for yourself at the start of the day. I suggest closing your eyes and feeling yourself breathe as you listen. And because these are my words and my intentions, you may find that you have different wordings and intentions, and so, I welcome you to write your own and to go so far as to record them so you can play it back to yourself each day. It doesn't have to be fancy. You could simply use the voice recorder on your phone. Talk slowly and genuinely and feel what it is you are saying so that when you play it back, it feels true and meaningful. Welcome your own insight and care, or feel free to simply use what I have made. I've been listening to it and following it with a period of meditation.

Our intentions set everything in motion. They can set peace, love, and inspiration in motion or their opposites. It is easy to feel launched into our day without taking a moment to recognize that we can be purposeful in how we meet it right from the start. How does it sound to you to connect to what you value before you are faced with the "full catastrophe" each day? Let me know what you think, and/or please share what yours are. I am happy to receive them. Click the button below to listen to the meditation. It should be available on the Insight Timer app in a few days. Or go directly to Soundcloud.

For those of you observing Yom Kippur, I wish you a meaningful holiday and an easy fast.

Jean

What's Changing?

 

There are changes that happen that are life shifting. Those events where everything feels different afterward, at least for a while (until that, too, changes). The loss of someone, the birth of someone, a move, a job change, a health scare, a new hip, a new relationship are some of the big ones. But in reality, everyday, in every moment, everything is changing. You might ask, "why does it matter to recognize this?" 

When we see with the eyes of impermanence, we gain a new perspective which I find helps us do two significant things. 1) We become more grateful for what we get to experience and we savor moments because they are fleeting. We savor the small things -- the things that if we were never able to do them again (like go the bathroom on our own, run up a hill, see someone's smile) we would wish we could do it again. 2) We strengthen our ability to let go because we know we are going to have to let go of everything at some point. Rather than live life in fear of that moment, we can look now at how things are always changing in a single day and become more comfortable with change. What this helps us do is to live not so contracted, but free, open, generous, and kind because what better thing is there to be if we don't get to take anything with us? How we act now is what continues on. 

Change and impermanence are the theme of my groups and retreat this fall. My invitation this week is, throughout your day, pause and recognize that whatever is right before you is, in fact, changing. Whether it is a person, an animal, a leaf, your skin, your food. They are all on their way to becoming something else. What is it like to savor these people, objects, animals, moments in these forms, even as they are changing -- to practice not attaching, but being present with their becoming. Change can be full of possibility and wonder, even the hardest changes.

To this end, I recorded a meditation on Allowing Change which you can use whenever you feel something shifting and want to open, rather than tense up to it. You can listen to it on my website, on the Insight Timer app, or on Soundcloud. There is another very similar meditation called Grounded Through Change which I previously recorded and you can also find on the sites above.

Wishing you a beautiful week of welcoming change. Catch it in the leaves as they are visibly in the midst of becoming!

Jean

P.S. Meditation helps us not react to our thoughts, feelings and sensations which are always changing. It takes practice though. Join us every week for drop-in meditations to stick with your intention to practice. And, if these subjects interest you, you might be a good fit for A Mindful Life. Fall segments are underway, but be sure to inquire about the late fall/early winter segments which start after Thanksgiving. 

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.