Poetry 141: The Practice

The Practice

 

Every deliberate step

I take,

loosens the firm grip

on a piece of

me that no longer

serves.

Every breath

I take, releases

the disembodied

parts of me that

no longer sustain.

Every time I sit

for more than

a minute--in that

precious posture of

integrity--

I let go of my-Self

for at least

one minute more.

I may never

truly know

the experience

of emptiness, but I

can continue to

empty my cup.

That’s the

practice.

 

-Me

Forgiving Our Ancestors Part VII: Unintentional Harm

Sometimes I wonder if my kids will ever truly be able to understand me (neurosis and all...) without really understanding my own parents.

But then I think, to really understand my parents, my kids would actually have to have some understanding of my parents' parents.

Then again, to understand my grandparents, then frankly my kids would need to have some understanding of my great-grandparents.

And so forth...

This photograph was taken of one of my 4 great-grandmothers.

Her name was Sarah, she was born at the end of the 19th century in the northern midwestern United States, and I never met her.

My grandmother, a complex woman who could be both fascinating and cruel, was born in 1911, and was the eldest of Sarah's 4 children.
 

And if you fast forward to the end of my grandmother's life when both of her younger sisters opted out of attending their own sister's funeral in January of 1997, you have to wonder: What the hell happened there?
 

The truth is, I will never know...
 

But looking at this photograph of Sarah, I see a very serious and proper woman.  
 

One who I know taught elementary education and wrote her name on the inside cover of her hardback copies of William Shakespeare's plays. A woman who did not allow one drop of liquor into her home, I believe never once traveled out of the state where she was born and raised, and always kept an impeccable vegetable garden.
 

My grandmother on the other hand...began drinking everyday at about 1 p.m. for her entire adult life. She began to travel out of the country beginning in college when she took a ship to Cuba and later Europe and Africa. And she never planted a garden- in fact I don't really remember her even eating vegetables.
 

In short, I think my grandmother and her mother, my great-grandmother Sarah, were very different sorts of women, and I wonder how those differences played themselves out in the life of their relationship and in the life of the family where my grandmother's two younger sisters were watching all of the drama unfold before them.
 

[Here is a clue, my grandmother's nickname was "Queenie."]
 

Having been one of the very few people in attendance at my grandmother's funeral on that cold and snowy winter day almost 22 years ago with neither of her sisters in sight, if I had to venture a guess, I'd say there was a lot of hurt and a lot of misunderstanding, that culminated into a fair amount of harm all around.
 

But the thing is, my intuition tells me, that most of the harm was unintentional and unknowing.
 

I think the "un" intentional and the "un" knowing part matters for 2 reasons.
 

Number one, the difference between glaringly malicious and carelessly unthoughtful, is in fact a real difference.  And the way one might go about healing from either one would vary significantly based on that "intent."
 

And two, I think it is important to note that there is real harm that can be had, even when the person is unaware of the harm that they are inflicting because harm matters, whether it is intended or not.

For this area of forgiveness, I often turn to one of my favorite western Buddhist authors and teachers Jack Kornfield because he has spoken and written extensively on this topic, and also authentically shared pieces of his own personal healing journey with his family members including his complicated relationship with his own father.

On Mr. Kornfield's website, he writes this about forgiveness:

We have all betrayed and hurt others, just as we knowingly or unknowingly have been harmed by them.  It is inevitable in this human realm.  Sometimes our betrayals are small, sometimes terrible. Extending and receiving forgiveness is essential for redemption from our past.

Knowingly and unknowingly.  Both matter. Both require healing.

But what I like about Jack Kornfield's take on forgiveness as a path to healing is he does not approach it with a sort of moral high-ground or "have to" of any kind. 

He writes:

In Buddhist psychology, forgiveness is not presented as a moral commandment; thou shalt forgive. It is understood as way to end suffering, to bring dignity and harmony to our life.  Forgiveness is fundamentally for our own sake, for our own mental health. It is a way to let go of the pain we carry.

I wish my ancestors had been able to let go of some of the pain that they carried- for some of them, literally to the grave.

Because the truth is, whatever pain and hurt (both intentional and unintentional) that is not processed, is more often than not just passed down to the next generation.  In that way, the choice to lean in toward forgiveness, could be viewed as a gift or offering to those future generations because it increases the likelihood that the very same negative and harmful family patterns will not continue to replicate themselves in our children, and our children's children.

Again, Jack Kornfield:

Forgiveness sees wisely.  It willingly acknowledges what is unjust, harmful, and wrong. It bravely recognizes the sufferings of the past, and understands the conditions that brought them about.  There is a strength to forgiveness.  When we forgive we can also say, 'Never again will I allow these things to happen.' We may resolve to never again permit such harm to come to ourselves or another.

However, I think forgiveness is one of those "easier said than done" kind of deals.

This means, if you are anything like me, forgiveness of both intentional and unintentional harm may require vigilant practice and regular effort to turn the mind back toward the road of forgiveness each an every time it has detoured far off into resentment-land.

Below I have included some meditation phrases  that I myself have found helpful, and may or may not work for you on your own self-healing journey of forgiveness.

Either way, may we both find the freedom and inner peace that we may be seeking.

May it be so.

Meditation Phrases to Practice Forgiveness:

+ I am sorry for whatever hurt I have caused you knowingly or unknowingly, I ask for your forgiveness.

+ For the ways I have knowingly or unknowingly harmed myself, I forgive myself.

+ For the harm and hurt you have caused me, intentionally or unintentionally, I forgive you.

Spiritual Lessons From Nature Part XIII: Adaptation

About a month ago I was hiking in the woods at a nearby game refuge, and I saw this tree living inside a wall of rock.

Although I had been walking at a rather fast pace (for me anyway...), the sight of the tree in the rock stopped me short.

I thought to myself,

How on earth--quite literally in this case--did that tree adapt to such living conditions as to grow out of the cold, hard stone?

As I thought this, I stood in awe.

You see, adaptation has never been my forte.

Unlike the tree, when I find myself in unwanted or challenging situations, I have tremendous difficulty making that pivot into accepting life on life's terms.

It's not for lack of wanting though.

I fully embrace the idea that acceptance and adaptation bring greater freedom and even liberation- I just find it so hard to actually do it.

Which is why I admired the tree, and even my 10 year-old cat who was recently able to adapt as well when a new kitten named Aurora took up residence in her house.

I do have some theories about why it is difficult for me though- in other words, insight.

One of those theories is: resentment.

Resentment most surely negatively impacts my ability to adapt to life's natural unfolding.

Yet nature (trees and animals and the smallest organisms on the planet) has lessons to teach me about another way to live.

I wrote recently that I've been reading 20th century Dutch author, theologian and professor, Henri Nouwen, and in his book Spiritual Formation: Following the Movements of the Spirit he told this story:

I met an old priest who said to me: 'I complained for too long that my work was constantly being interrupted, until I discovered that my interruptions were my work'...

He then went on to describe the lesson of resentment in this story:

Resentment is exactly the complaint that life does not unfold the way we planned; that our many goals and projects are constantly interrupted by the events of the hour, the day, and the year; and that there is no choice other than to become the passive victim of random incidents and happenstance...

It seems to me that the antidote to resentment, may very well be adaptation.

Adaptation, and according to Henri Nouwen (if you want to be a spiritual over-achiever perhaps...), maybe even gratitude.

He wrote:

Resentment makes us blind to God's carving hand, but gratitude helps us recognize the process- that slowly but surely, we are being formed into a beautiful work of art; that we are being prepared to be a person who can offer our own pains as a source of healing for others.

So let us try today.

Let us try to adapt to our unfolding lives by releasing some of those resentments, and maybe even opening ourselves up to a little bit of gratitude.

May it be so.

The Pain of Waking Up Part I: The Self

Waking up to our patterns of thinking and behaving can be very, very painful.

I have some recent experience with this.

It wasn't that I learned something new about myself that I had never realized or considered before on a cognitive level, I had.

But I'm talking about the kind of waking up when you see your ineffective and unskillful patterns at both a cognitive level and an emotional level; when you embody the awakening. 

The primary type of meditation that I practice is called Vipassana or "Insight" meditation. 

An online article from Tricycle Magazine titled: "What Exactly is Vipassana Meditation" defines this type of meditation like this:

Vipassana can be translated as 'Insight,' a clear awareness of exactly what is happening as it happens.

I must say, due to recent events, I was briefly reconsidering if this is in fact the type of meditation that I would like to pursue. (That was a joke...but kinda not.)

Because "clear awareness" during moments of sadness, grief, rage, loss, and disappointment can at times feel excruciating.

Western Buddhist teacher and author Jack Kornfield wrote in his 2008 book The Wise Heart: A Guide to the Universal Teachings of Buddhist Psychology that:

Buddhists were actually the first cognitive-behavioral therapists.

As a trained Cognitive Behavioral therapist myself, I wholeheartedly agree with this statement.

Just consider the following statement from the 1st century BCE Buddhist text, The Dhammapada:

Speak and act from unwise thoughts, and sorrow will follow you as  surely as the wheel follows the ox who draws the cart.  Speak and act from wise thoughts and happiness will follow you as closely as your shadow, unshakable.

If this is true, and in my experience it is, then what if the "unwise thought" is more like a core belief like: I am unimportant. I am insignificant. I am unworthy. What would be the behaviors that follow?

This is how I understand and apply the Buddhist concept of karma.

I know it can and does mean so much more, but what I have found most helpful (so far) is that everything has a cause, and everything that has a cause, has an effect.

Take for example, this idea I was introduced to about a year ago:

Hustling for worthiness.

This is a Brene Brown concept, and I have done this...A lot.

Of course most people have become familiar with Brene Brown's social research on emotions like shame, vulnerability, courage, and belonging through her Ted Talks and books, as have I, but I hadn't yet heard this specific turn of phrase.

It was the word "hustling" that got me the most because it implies this rather inauthentic, game-like, wheeling-and-dealing effort to get a very basic human need--worthiness--met.

When I read it, I shamefully thought to myself, "oh god, I do that all the time," and boy did I feel the pain of waking up in that moment.

In that moment I realized, "hustling for worthiness" was my karma.

Or in other words, there were causes--unmet needs--and this behavior was the effect.

As I said before, waking up can be painful.

Although, there are places and spaces for the wayward pilgrim on the path of spiritual awakening to take refuge from this at times arduous journey.

Most recently I've been taking solace in another book by the 20th century Dutch theologian and professor Henri Nouwen called Spiritual Formation: Following the Movements of the Spirit.

I've resonated with a particular section called "Am I a Rock or a Dancer" in the chapter called: From Resentment to Gratitude.

In it he writes:

I once saw a stonecutter remove great pieces from a huge rock on which he was working. In my imagination I thought, 'That rock must be hurting terribly. Why does this man wound the rock so much?' But as I looked longer, I saw the figure of a graceful dancer emerge gradually from the stone.

Personally, I don't want to be a slab of cold, gray rock.  No insight. No self-awareness. No awareness of other. No wisdom. No ability to recognize when I fall into my old habit of "hustling for worthiness."

I want to be the dancer.

In fact, even I, who feels each piece of rock falling away that exposes a shoulder, a hand, a cheek most painfully, can see that there is a gift in there.

Not to mix metaphors, but the insight that can come from one of those moments of awakening can feel like the most glorious and unexpected football interception, late in the game, that even the player him or herself could not have anticipated.

In this way, waking up is most literally a gamechanger.

So, I will continue to allow for the pain of waking up, but I will also look out for the gifts it may yield.

May it be so.