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.