Poetry 147: Letting Go

Letting Go

If you let go

of me,

will I 

let go of you?

If I let go 

of you, 

will you 

let go of them?

The illusion of

possesion

is unbearable

when the 

chips fall. 

Showing up,

standing  up,

loving and accepting-

these are not

requirements.

They are gifts,

generously offered, 

or hastily withdrawn. 

I see now—

cling to nothing,

push away nothing—

this is not the 

better way, 

it is the only way

if I am to 

live honestly 

at the cutting edge

of this bare,

naked reality. 

If you let go

of me,

will I

let go of you?

If I let go 

of you, 

will you 

let go of them?

Yes.

-Me

(Inspired by the poetry of Indian-Canadian poet Rupi Kaur)

Poetry 146: Ambiguous Loss

Ambiguous Loss

It's almost your
birthday again.
Without looking
at the calendar,
I can feel it
in my bones.

The Aries.
The crocus.
The full moon.

I remember
all those years ago
when you turned
forty. I was
not yet eight
years-old, and
decided to throw
you a big birthday
party.

It was a Tuesday,
and a school night.

It seemed so
obvious and natural
at the time--
wanting more than
anything
to please you--
with no thought
whatsoever to
small details
like food and drink
for the 30-something
guests I had invited
to our house
on that early spring
evening.

I see so clearly
now, how I was
already full-filling
your need for
the parent-child
persona that would
ultimately become
an all-out conversion.

Are you happy?,
I wonder.
Are you okay?

Strangely, like a
mother myself,
I can still feel you
all the way
inside of me;
dwelling like an
ache in the
center of my belly.

A reminder,
I fear,
that your presence
and absence is
still burning me alive,
like an ember
that will
never die.

-Me

(With gratitude to the work of Pauline Boss Ph.D.)

Spiritual Lessons From Nature Part XV: God's Presence

The other day I took a hike in an area that I had only ever visited in the summertime when the New England trees are full and the ground cover is lush.

But on this day, in the thick of winter, I was able to see the very same landscape in a completely new way.  Because without the large beautiful leaves and even without the color, I was able to notice that which had been previously unseen.

This came to me in a most poignant yet subtle way--as only nature can do--when I realized I was not alone.

I had been hiking for some time (well over an hour), when I decided to check out what was on the other side of the wooded area that lined the path.

 And low and behold, there was my favorite river...

I'm sure I should have known that this river ran parallel to this hiking path that I'd walked many times, but the truth is, I didn't.

But then, when I saw that river flowing by me (as clearly it had each and every other  time I had hiked that same path), I felt so comforted.  I felt so not-alone anymore.

It reminded me of god's presence, and it brought overwhelming gratitude that in the winter, whether that be the literal snowy season or the figurative mind state of quiet and stillness, sometimes the invisible can become visible.

So, when I found my way back to the path again, and headed back to my car on the other side of the field,

I walked with a different kind of feeling inside of me. A feeling, a knowledge, that I am not alone.

Reflecting Back on Jon Kabat-Zinn's Full Catastrophe

As I prepare to teach my first 8-Week Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction course, I have been revisiting the writings of Jon Kabat-Zinn, including Full  Catastrophe Living: How to Cope with Stress, Pain and Illness Using Mindfulness Meditation.

For those of you who are not familiar with the work of Jon Kabat-Zinn,

he is the creator of Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction, or MBSR, that he began at UMASS Medical School in 1979, and his book Full Catastrophe Living (first published in 1990 and updated in 2013) is the manual for this program.

Dr. Kabat-Zinn opens his book with these words:

This book is an invitation to the reader to embark upon a journey of self-development, self-discovery, learning, and healing.

So true.

For the past 4+ years I have been actively engaged in the rigorous and transformative training to become an MBSR teacher myself.

And in 2 weeks, that dream will be a reality.

But as it was recommended in the last formal section of the MBSR teacher training, the Practice Teaching Intensive, that my personal practice of mindfulness meditation be at least 50% of my MBSR teaching, as part of my preparation for this first class, I have been:

• steeping myself in the guided audio practices,
• reflecting on my own journey of mindfulness practice, and
• re-reading the work of Jon Kabat-Zinn.

And not just Full Catastrophe Living either.

Interestingly, my entry into MBSR did not come through MBSR- which I did not participate in until 2014.

No, for me, MBSR started over a decade earlier in 2003 in the form of my first ever copy of Jon Kabat-Zinn's book Wherever You Go There You Are: Mindfulness Meditation in Everyday Life- a book that was truly life-changing for me.

This book was first introduced to me by one of my earliest Clinical Social Work supervisors, Mark, and it begins with these words:

Guess what? When it comes right down to it, wherever you go, there you are. Whatever you wind up doing, that's what you've wound up doing. Whatever you are thinking right now, that's what's on your mind.  Whatever has happened to you, it has already happened.

The important question is, how are you going to handle it? In other words, 'Now what?'

Like it or not, this moment is all we really have to work with.

Phew! As a 25 year-old who had spent much of her time avoiding the difficulty of life (both inside and outside myself), reading those words for the first time blew me out of the water, and I was hooked!

I thought: What is this mindfulness stuff, and how can it help???

Fast forward two years later to 2005, I had now graduated from Social Work School and was married, and while wandering around Barnes and Noble I met my next book encounter with Jon Kabat-Zinn: Coming to Our Senses: Healing Ourselves and the World Through Mindfulness.

By now quite familiar with both Jon Kabat-Zinn, mindfulness, and yoga (though not yet meditation), I felt a growing sense of "comfort," or dare I say "home," when I saw this book on the shelf. 

So I bought it right on the spot (very unlike me), and began to slowly take bite-size dives (this book is over 600 pages) into more writing by Dr. Kabat-Zinn.

And this book began with a poem by American poet Wendell Berry:

It may be when we no longer know what to do,
we have come to our real work,
and that when we no longer know which way to go,
we have begun our real journey.

[Side Note: One thing I did not know then, 14 years ago, that I do know now, is that the Western Mindfulness Meditation Community loves poetry! 

Seriously, pick up nearly any Western Meditation teacher's book, and you are very likely to encounter some gorgeous poetry as a backdrop to the guidance and direction for setting up a meditation practice.

It is truly lovely.]

I find it very moving to reflect back on this "Jon-Kabat-Zinn-Journey" that I've taken--to contemplate the path that unfolded and led me to this place that I am now about to teach an MBSR course myself--because I know the path itself will always remain mysterious and unfinished too.

I know this because even as I re-read chapters in Full Catastrophe Living, Wherever You Go There You Are, Coming to Our Senses, and even some of the articles like "Some Reflections on the Origins of MBSR, Skillful Means, and the Trouble With Maps," that Dr. Kabat-Zinn has published in the last decade about the role (or lack of role) of "the dharma" in MBSR, it is always like I am reading it for the first time. 

Because I am reading it for the first time with this set of eyes. With this set of ideas. With this set of life experiences.  With this set of knowledge.

You've heard of life, imitating art, imitating life?  Well, this might be mindfulness, imitating mindfulness, imitating mindfulness.

In reflecting, I felt this in a most profound way when I re-read Chapter 13 in Full Catastrophe Living, called "On Healing," in which the chapter begins with this thought:

When we use the word healing to describe the experiences of people engaging in mindfulness training through MBSR, what we mean above all is that they are undergoing a profound transformation of view, what I sometimes refer to as a 'rotation of consciousness.' This transformation is brought about by the encounter with one's own wholeness, catalyzed by the meditation practice itself.

When we glimpse our own completeness in the stillness of any moment...a new and profound encountering and coming to terms with our problems and our suffering begins to take place. We begin to see both ourselves and our problems differently, namely from the perspective of wholeness...It is a perceptual shift away from fragmentation and isolation toward wholeness and interconnectedness.

Away from fragmentation and isolation toward wholeness and interconnectedness.

On a deeply personal note, at 41 years-old, I recently began psychotherapy again for myself, and when my new therapist asked me what type of help I thought I might need to move in the direction of healing some of these new and old wounds, I told him:

"I need someone to help me hold the whole story because it just feels too big to hold by myself."

May it be so.

Seekers, Teachers & Gratitude

As of late, I've been reflecting on the profound gratitude that I have for those men and women who have felt like teachers to me.

As a Seeker, when I use the word "teacher," I am applying this idea in a most expansive way to include all the folks who have taught me about the art of living.

Of course, only a handful of these people have I ever met close up, and to those men and women, I am so thankful.

Like my therapist of many years, Joan, who passed away in 2016.  The professional mentors, Rebecca and Jon, that guided me during my social work training to be a psychotherapist.  The first minister I ever confided in, BJ,  at the first Unitarian Universalist church I ever belonged to. And the briefer encounters I've had with meditation teachers who have led silent retreats and Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction trainings throughout the last 8 years.

However, for the most part, the majority of the folks I've come to call "teachers" over the last decade, I've actually never met; I've only ever read their books, listened to their podcasts, watched their TED Talks, read their articles and essays, and attended their lectures (if I was lucky).

One of those teachers, for me, is Sharon Salzberg.

For those of you who aren't familiar with Sharon Salzberg and her work, she is a leading Western Buddhist teacher, author and co-founder of the Insight Meditation Society in Barre, Massachusetts.

Sadly though, I learned in just the last two weeks that Sharon Salzberg had a recent major medical emergency.

Her assistant, Lily Cushman, wrote the following on Sharon Salzberg's website:


Dear Friends,

I’m sharing the news that Sharon went through a major health emergency this past weekend. She is now stable and on the path to a full recovery. She is receiving excellent medical care, and we are deeply grateful for all the amazing work and dedication of her doctors, nurses and hospital staff, it is truly remarkable.

To take care of her health, Sharon will be taking a few months off from teaching so that she has the time and space to heal completely. We will be updating her calendar of events to reflect these changes in the next day or so, and for those of you directly impacted by these cancellations, we thank you for your patience and understanding.

I know how many of you have a profoundly deep bond with Sharon, and that this message is not an easy one to read. Rest assured that she will be back in action in no time, and is surrounded by a tremendous support system during this time.

Lily Cushman
Director of Operations for Sharon Salzberg

When I read this news, I was really shaken up in a way that surprised me.

Not because I experienced emotion at all- I like to think of myself as an empathic, feeling person.

But rather because the quality of the emotion, the sadness, seemed to reflect an intimacy, or a "bond" as her colleague referred to, that I had not fully understood.

After all, I don't really know her.

But then, as I reflected further, in some ways, it makes sense.

As a Seeker, who is also a woman and American, I have been drawn to teachers who are also Western women.

Women who write and speak in a way that makes sense to me.  Women who have generously offered their hard-won wisdom, gained from their own personal life experiences, to help and guide others, like myself, in their own journey of life's many confusing twists and turns.

I actually read one of Sharon Salzberg's generous offerings, a book Faith: Trusting Your Own Deepest Experience which is part spiritual memoir and part Buddhist philosophy and psychology, when I was pregnant with my daughter in 2013.

If you have not read it, I highly recommend this book if you are looking for an authentic reflection on a very personal journey toward a more skillful way to relate with one's own pain and suffering.

This is exactly what I was looking for in 2013.

You see, like many women, before I was pregnant with my daughter in 2013, I had had a miscarriage in 2012, and that miscarriage exposed a lot of deep seated fears inside of me that I had never felt in such a visceral way.

But, by reading about Ms. Salzberg's own journey of vulnerability and growth at the same time of my first pregnancy since my miscarriage, I was able to root down into a strength and sense of centeredness that I really needed at that time.

In Faith, Ms. Salzberg wrote:

I sensed deep within me the possibility of rising above the circumstances of my childhood, of defining myself by something other than my family's painful struggles and its hardened tone of defeat...

With a surge of conviction, I thought, But I am here, and I can learn to be truly free. I felt as if nothing and no one could take away the joy of that prospect. 

I can learn to be truly free.  I love that sentence.

Since hearing about Ms. Salzberg's health emergency, and contemplating the significance of her "teaching" on me and my own journey as a Seeker, I've reflected on other teachers (poets, philosophers, theologians, religious leaders, writers, psychologists, meditation teachers) who are also still living (since some of my other modern teachers like Maya  Angelou, John O'Donohue, Thomas Keating, and most recently Mary Oliver are now deceased ), but who are "up there" in age.

Folks who are in their 80's and 90's, and still producing and offering more teachings to those of us who are listening.

Men and women on this list who come to mind are people who were born between 1926 and 1936 like:

Joanna Macy 1929, American

 

Desmond Tutu 1931, South African

 

Thich Nhat Hanh 1926, Vietnamese

 

 

Dalai Lama 1935, Tibetan

 

 

Brother David Steindl-Rast 1926, Austrian

 

Pema Chodron 1936, American

 

Ram Dass 1931, American

Jean Vanier 1928, Canadian

and Sylvia Boorstein 1936, American.

 

 

Not an exhaustive list by any means, and no doubt too male, too white, too Christian and Buddhist, and too American-centric than not, but still...something to possibly reflect on as the reality of impermanence is something I often avoid at all cost even though I know it honors the truth that the beloved and sacred experience of teacher and student (those that exist in real-time, and those that are more in our hearts) is a time-limited one.

So to all those teachers, past and present, I offer my gratitude.

(In dedication to Sharon Salzberg.)