Kindred Spirits: Mary Oliver

In my UU church service this weekend I was introduced to a Mary Oliver poem that I had never heard before.  It was called:  When I am Among the Trees.

In the service, the poem was set beautifully to music by the church choir which I unfortunately cannot replicate for you here.

But the poem itself goes like this:

When I am among the trees,

especially the willows and the honey locust,

equally the beech, the oaks and the pines,

they give off such hints of gladness.

I would almost say that they save me, and daily.

I am so distant from the hope of myself,

in which I have goodness, and discernment,

and never hurry through the world

but walk slowly, and bow often.

Around me the trees stir in their leaves

and call out, “Stay awhile.”

The light flows from their branches.

And they call again, “It’s simple,” they say,

“and you too have come

into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled

with light, and to shine.”

Hearing this poem was like listening to the words of another kindred spirit.

Now that the New England season has transitioned to its too early warm summer temperatures, my meditation practice has shifted to. 

In the winter months my primary object, where I gather my attention in insight meditation, is on my breath.  However, in the summer, with my back door open, I use sound as my primary object of meditation, and often, the sound is of tree leaves swishing in the light breeze.

I particularly enjoyed this seasonal shift in my object of meditation recently at my first overnight mindfulness meditation retreat.

On this retreat I tried out forest meditation for the first time in this little, screened-in one-woman cabin.

It was a novel experience for me to have my primary object of meditation, sound, be surrounding me so fully, 360 degrees in fact.  And, as it was a forest, the subtle and not-so-subtle movements of the woodlands were the most precious to me.

Perhaps Ms. Oliver would have enjoyed the practice too...

How about you?

Re-Defining Meditation

How would you define meditation?

This is not a question I have actually thought about a great deal.

Primarily because I am someone who over-thinks and over-analyzes everything, so even I caught the would-be irony if I got caught applying this behavior of over-thinking to meditation as well. 

In fact, my intention to not fall back on the very behavior that was bringing me, in part, to the practice of meditation , probably led me to cling to too narrow a focus on the day-to-day aspects of setting up a practice and keeping it going,  than much if any, periodic reflection on the broader questions  like: what is meditation?

Recently I went on my first Overnight Mindfulness Meditation Retreat, and I was able to go back to the beginning so to speak, to not only deepen my meditation practice in a profound way (certainly more to come on this topic), but also to open my conceptualization about meditation with a wider lens.

So here we go, my new favorite (for now) definition of meditation taken from the wisdom of Buddhist teacher, author and activist Thich Nhat Hanh:

Meditation is a serene encounter with reality.

Isn’t that just perfect?

Just saying it over again in my mind: Meditation is a serene encounter with reality, brings me to a mind/heart/body space that is the equivalent of a nice, deep breath of fresh air.

Let’s start with this first word: serene.

When I used to hear the word “serene,” I had 2 quick associations: 1.) The Serenity Prayer by Reinhold Niebuhr (1892-1971)

and 2.) joy or happiness.

The Serenity Prayer for me is like a dear old friend. 

These are words that are very familiar, very comforting, that I can go back to easily in a time of distress or crisis, and words I might just say to myself on any given Tuesday morning just because.

I’m sure most of you already know this one if you are American because it is central to the Twelve-Step AA Movement, but just in case you live elsewhere, here it is:

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,

the courage to change the things I can,

and the wisdom to know the difference.

Associating  “The Serenity Prayer” with Thich Nhat Hanh’s use of “serene” in his definition of meditation was actually extremely helpful for me because the prayer itself had already integrated such concepts as acceptance and courage, and I might add willingness, that I’ve found are essential ingredients for any chance in hell at having a “serene encounter with reality.”

The second association I previously had with the word “serene” was “joy” or “happiness,” and after this Retreat, I in fact found it useful to let go of this one.

Having practiced meditation for the past 5 years, I was already well aware before this Retreat that the meditation experience was not one of daily bliss, ecstasy, relaxation, what have you.

Unfortunately though, I think I brought my pack-horse-like, New England work ethic to the cushion instead.  It’s like I went to the opposite end of the spectrum and became rather militant about the practice so that my “work-type” mentality was present each time  I sat down to meditate. 

The funny thing is, you might think that this would have made me rather dread meditating each day, but miraculously it didn’t.  What can I say, we New Englanders are hearty folks I guess…boot straps and all.

What has been helpful though, is this tendency that I had fallen into was pointed out in one of the 7:15 p.m. Dharma Talks that was held each evening by the Retreat teachers in the meditation hall.

The teacher, Susan, shared with participants in our retreat that at one time in her own meditation practice she had noticed that her process of labeling her thoughts as “thoughts” in her mind each time it had wandered from its attention on the breath, had taken on an almost aggressive quality.  Rather than a gentle or compassionate redirection of the mind from the thoughts back to the breath, she noticed herself “yanking myself back to the breath” that to her felt quasi violent in nature.

I appreciated the Retreat teacher sharing this possible pit-fall in a meditation practice because it was surly one that I myself had fallen into at times.

Furthermore, I was able to see more clearly, or awaken to, how awkward and maybe even counterintuitive it would be for me to apply this word “serene” to my encounter with meditation.

However, when I re-contextualized serene to be a state of ease, acceptance, willingness, nonjudgmental kindness, curiosity, and softening (particularly with the body, but more on that later), my meditation practice dramatically changed nearly instantly.  It was truly amazing.

No longer was I sitting down every other hour to meditate with this “work-like” approach to the practice. 

I realized that before this Retreat, each time I sat down on my meditation cushion it  was like I was a life guard climbing up into my little chair high above the swimming pool to scan for the swimmers down below who  dared swim outside the designated swimming area.  And each time I caught one, I’d blow my whistle loudly—“THINKING”—in  order to get everyone and everything back in line.

Can I say: controlling?  Well no wonder there had been no one-time experience of bliss or ecstasy as of yet??? Even if that was not what I was going for.

The second two words in Thich Nhat Hanh’s definition of meditation: encounter and reality are such intelligent choices because inherent in each word are several of the core principles of meditation such as impermanence and beginner’s mind.

But here is what I find most elegant about this definition of meditation: it is applicable on and off the cushion.

For anyone out there still believing that meditation practice is a solitary experience that only benefits the self, consider the possibilities if we all approached more moments in our days with the intention to practice a serene encounter with reality.

Consider that the next time you are in a line at the grocery store behind an irate customer with an expired coupon they are trying to use.  Or the next time you are cut off in traffic going 70 mph and your children are in the back seat.  Or come the fall in the United States when you are watching the U.S. Presidential Debates on TV.  Then, try practicing a serene encounter with reality.

I did not expect to go to my first Overnight Mindfulness Meditation Retreat to have my meditation practice turned inside out and upside down, but, as it turns out, the process of redefining meditation truly was a game-changer for me and my practice in the best possible way.

How do you define meditation?                                                            

Spiritual Lessons from Nature: Part V

On a recent spring afternoon here in New England, I went for a hike in the woods that had just blossomed into a nearly floresant green due to all the rain we'd had.

Before I started though, I set the intention to keep my eye out for spiritual lessons from the lives of trees.

Here are just a few lessons I learned that day...

There is beauty in all shapes, forms & sizes.

Unity yields diversity.

Long-term companionship is possible.

We don't have to look just like our neighbors.

Reuse. Recycle.

Life is not always straight and narrow.

A beautiful life can be born of a twisty, turny beginning.

Embodying Dharma

A new favorite pastime of mine is to admire dharma in action.

Ever since I read Stephen Cope's book The Great Work of Your Life, I have been noticing more and more occasions of catching my breath as I glimpse the  sheer elegant beauty of a human being enacting and embodying their vocation, calling or dharma- it is truly the definition of breath-taking.

It reminds me of the 13^th Century poet Jalaluddin Rumi's poem, “Each Note” that goes like this:

Advice doesn't help lovers!

They're not the kind of mountain stream

you can build a dam across.

An intellectual doesn't know what the drunk is feeling!

Don't try to figure what those lost inside love will do next!

Someone in charge would give up all his power,

if he caught one whiff of the wine-musk

from the room where lovers are doing who-knows- what!

One of them tries to dig a hole through a mountain.

One flees from academic honors.

One laughs at famous mustaches!

Life freezes if it doesn't get a taste

of this almond cake.

The stars come up spinning

every night, bewildered in love.

They'd grow tired with that revolving, if they weren't.

They'd say, "How long do we have to Do this!"

God picks up the reed-flute world and blows.

Each note is a need coming through one of us,

a passion, a longing-pain.

Remember the lips

where the wind-breath originated,

and let your note be clear.

Don't try to end it .

BE Your Note.

I'll show you how it's enough.

Go up on the roof at night

in the city of the soul.

Let Everyone climb on their roofs

and sing their notes!

Sing loud!

The interesting and surprising piece of this new joyful activity though, is it shows up at times when I would not necessarily expect it, or, at least, I’m not looking for it.

In the past, I think I associated the embodiment of dharma with individuals like Mr. Cope writes about in his book.  Notable figures who are The Greats of our history like Harriet Tubman, Mahatma Ghandi, Robert Frost, and Henry David Thoreau.  People who have had books written about them because they continue to inspire generation after generation. 

But also in Mr. Cope’s book are stories about us regular, everyday people.  People about whom there is likely no book written and whom nobody knows other than our own small, personal tribe.  Lately, these are the people I’ve been noticing in my day-to-day life.  And it has been a joy.

Two recent examples.

I have been driving the same way to work at roughly the same time for the past six years, and as my fellow commuters will know, when you travel the same route each day you become familiar with the other travelers (be it in a car, bus, train, bike or by foot) whose morning commute seems to parallel your own.

Part of my commute includes crossing a wide, busy intersection in a city that is one block from an elementary school, and this intersection has a crossing guard.

This crossing guard is amazing. 

Not only does she burst forth immediately when the light turns red into the middle of the intersection (knowing as well as I do that many people do not always respect the red light) with little but her hand-held stop sign to protect her, but she does it with a smile.  A smile.

And not just a couple of days out of the week.

I have driven by her Monday through Friday from September to June each year for the past 6 years, and she is consistently smiling.

I first knew how special this person was when I began to notice that most of the children who pass through this intersection consistently look over their shoulder to say one last “goodbye” or “have a nice day” to the crossing guard as their parent is walking them quickly down the street to be on time to school.

And it makes sense because she appears to know the name of each and every pedestrian who passes through her intersection, makes a point to talk individually to each child, and does not leave the middle of intersection until every last man, woman and child has made it across the intersection safely even if the light has already turned green. 

In the 30-60 seconds that my path crosses with this person 5 days a week, I truly look forward to seeing someone who appears to joyfully embody her dharma.  It inspires me as I go on in my day walking my own path.

Another recent example of witnessing dharma in action has been with my son’s Little League coach.

Now, I am not a huge sports person, and with all the horror stories about coaches and parents who take the whole sports thing a little too far (i.e. a coach only focusing on winning the game and the kids are just 1^st graders or a parent going ballistic because the best player was not covering 1^st base), I can be a little apprehensive about team sports these days.  But this year is pure magic.

My son’s coach seems to have a love of teaching baseball like I’ve never seen before.  Of course he has a day job, as we all do, but this coach’s passion for instilling a genuine love for baseball, sportsmanship, and teaching the very concept of practice (of any new craft) as a means of development and growth in a child is awe-inspiring.

Since starting this Little League season I’ve now grown accustomed to this coach’s motivational videos he sends to each player during the week, the game balls he passes out at the end of each game to the player who demonstrated whatever skill he coach wanted to highlight that week, and the head-to-toe sheer enthusiasm he has from beginning to end of each baseball practice and every game.

What’s more, like the crossing guard, I notice the children’s positive responses to the coach, and I stand by the truth that children are excellent detectors of authenticity (aka bull-shit detectors).

And for me, seeing this individual every Thursday, Saturday and Sunday embody his dharma as a Little League coach, is a joy that fills me up too because genuine joyfulness is contagious.

As actor and Parkinson’s Activist Michael J. Fox noted in his 2009 documentary, Adventures Of An Incurable Optimist, there may be key elements that contribute to what one might call “happiness,” and I think Mr. Cope’s book and my recent observations would be evidence that some of those elements may have to do with embodying one’s own dharma, vocation or calling.

Of course we know this is neither new information nor rocket science, and yet it is oh-so-easy to forget.  Have you ever noticed that?

What will help me to remember to remember to embody my dharma will be my daily mindful observations of other spiritual warriors in action- look out for them, they are everywhere!

And maybe, like Rumi says, I will also try to “BE Your Note. I'll show you how it's enough.”