Death

The other night my toddler put his on jammies by himself for the first time. And the next evening he read me a book all on his own. Who is this kid, some sort of teenager?! Throughout this time of intense togetherness I feel like I’ve watched him transform from toddler to little boy. There’s a part of me that longs for the days when he’d cuddle into my arms, the little squidge of a baby. And at the same time, I’m so happy for each of us to have some independence from each other.

You may be wondering why I’m starting a piece entitled “Death” with a story about my toddler. I share it mostly because it feels like a much more palatable way to explore our relationship to death. The helpless infant, the babbling baby, and the cheeky toddler have all died in a sense, in order to give way, make space and make possible the child I see before me today. While I may always catch glimpses of my little baby depending on his mood or the angle of light, I’ll never get to experience those beautifully tortuous first weeks and months of our lives together when none of us slept and we were always covered in spit up. For better or worse, those moments are done, the baby I knew like my own heart beat is now a mysterious, independent child, living free of the weight of his past and without a concern about the future.

Not only is a four year old a perfect teacher for me about death, he’s also showing me how best to live.

While we’ve been staying at home, countless fears and worries bounce around my thoughts throughout the day. Most of them have something to do with the thought of someone I know getting sick and dying. Death feels so much more in my face, and if I hadn’t spent the last 15 years of my meditation practice preparing for it in some way, I think my own death would feel so much scarier. It certainly still has an anxiety producing quality about it, but with practice, it’s become far less unfathomable. What is it about life that makes us think we’ll be here forever, or that we’ll at least live to see our grandchildren? The only guarantee we have is that one day we’ll die. And while the death of someone before their time feels so painful and incomprehensible, it doesn’t make it any less natural a phenomenon. Phenomena arise, exist, and pass on. That is the nature of existence. Even when someone dies ‘unnaturally’ their deaths are still very much part of the fabric of life.

In meditation we’re constantly practicing letting our past be in the past and our future be in the future. When we come back to fully experience THIS BREATH, we are invariably setting down any illusions of how the last breath was or how the next one should be. And this type of letting be, of resting in the moment, this is an ideal way to practice and prepare for our own deaths. Resisting the inevitability of our next breath won’t stop it from coming, just like death will meet all of us eventually - no matter how much we may resist it. Similarly, clinging to the previous inhale or exhale is a fool’s errand, just as is the longing for our younger days or times when we had more vitality.

Coming to terms with the inescapability of death’s grip helps to keep us from trying to escape it.

When I see that the world around me is in a constant state of dying and rebirth, the death part feels less scary to me. Becoming less afraid of death doesn’t mean I’m going to take a bunch of ridiculous risks, but rather I can remember and recognize the preciousness of this opportunity to be alive. Instead of spending my days worrying about when or how I’ll die, I can spend my days fully living my life.

How much avoidable suffering do we cause ourselves trying to ignore and escape the inevitable? How much money do we spend to eke out a few more moments of youthful glow? What would happen if we fully embraced the reality of our impending deaths? Maybe instead of living in fear, we could begin to truly live.

Remembering and recognizing that each moment represents another death of what WAS, allows me the space to welcome what IS. When I cling to the memories of the two year-old, I lose sight of the four year-old in front of me. The two year old is still there inside of him, it’s what made him possible. When I lament the fact that one day he’ll die, I miss out on the magical unfolding of his life. One day neither of us will be on this physical plane. What comes next I do not claim to know; but I am certain that our imprint and memory will persist in the present moment experiences of those who come after us. The love we create today will continue to ripple out long after we are gone.

The pandemic has offered us all the opportunity to get a little comfier with the reality of our deaths. The world we knew before, full of carefree, large, mask-less gatherings is dead. What awaits us is a mystery with the potential to be something glorious — so long as we are present enough to face it.

If the video does not automatically load, you can view it here: https://youtu.be/ezz4jqPamVA

Gratitude

As we continue to stay here, suspended in the jelly of uncertainty, unsure of when our lives can start back up again, when we’ll be able to hug our friends and family again, what things will look like when we can peek our heads outside, it’s easy for me to become overwhelmed with the enormity of it all. Things won’t look the same as they did just last month and it feels like we’re collectively faced with an impossible choice, deciding how much and what kind of human suffering we can stomach — our loved ones getting sick, overwhelming hospital systems, and eventually dying, or our loved ones going hungry, overwhelmed by mounting debt and unpaid bills, also eventually dying. There is no easy answer, but the suffering we’re feeling as a global society as we face this together, apart, is revealing some important lessons for those willing to listen.

At the same time that we’re facing this vast uncertainty and the often fearful reality of our fragile existence, we’re also seeing so many beautiful expressions of joy, compassion, and community. The very act of social distancing is one of love, supporting the health of countless nameless faces we’ll never meet. We’re finding joy in the silly little parts of the day we would have otherwise missed, like when my son asks my husband to take a break from the dishes for “a little tickle” (that’s actually happening right now as I type). :) And we’re seeing firsthand how interconnected we are as a human family. Just as a virus can spread easily among us, ignoring borders and class, so too can this renewed sense of love, compassion and joy. We can band together to offer food to those who are hungry, recognize the social inequality that is exacerbating this crisis for so many, and work hard today to prepare ourselves to create a better, more loving, more inclusive future for all of us.

And if all of that feels like too much right now, we can practice gratitude.

Gratitude has been a major source of stability for me during these seemingly endless stay at home days, and well before this crisis. As this lockdown began I wasn’t really remembering this essential tool, and it was easy to only see the negative side of things. But after the first week or so, I remembered how transformative purposefully orienting my thinking to gratitude is for me. So I reached out to a friend to see if she’d be my gratitude buddy. She agreed, and since then, I’ve been lucky enough to have a dear friend to share my gratitude with each day.

Each night before bed we text each other a couple sentences about one thing in the day we feel grateful for. Some days the gratitude flows easily and I have to choose among a handful of lovely memories from my day. Other days the exercise really does feel like exercise, as I search my memories of the day for even one thing to share. Often on those days when I’m feeling at my lowest, the very act of reviewing my day to share a moment of gratitude gives me a few minutes of respite from the negative thinking I’d not even realized was there. The added bonus of this exercise for me is that I also get to hear what my friend is grateful for, which brings a smile to my face as well. It’s a positive feedback loop that has been sustaining me for the last six weeks.

Even if you don’t have a gratitude buddy with whom to share your daily highlights, you can still make it a point to stop and recognize the various reasons for gratitude each day, either by pausing to acknowledge things you’re grateful for as they happen, soaking in the sensation of gratitude, or taking a few minutes at the end of the night to reflect and journal about the parts of your day for which you’re grateful.

Death’s shadow is always looming over our existence here on earth, and expressing  gratitude for this human life is an excellent way to honor our present vitality while also recognizing this inexorable condition of life. What is there to fear in death if we can practice living each day fully aware of the gift it is to be alive? Since this all began, and we have been continually reminded of the preciousness of each day, my husband and I have shared a moment of gratitude each morning when we wake up -- we’re here, we’re breathing. 

This isn’t to say that gratitude is a cure all, and that if we practice gratitude all of our struggles and suffering will disappear with a snap. But working to continually shift our perspective to orient toward gratitude does help us to stop being victims of our own lives and circumstances. Instead of experiencing these disastrous and scary moments of life as reason to cower in a “poor me, poor us” mindset, (which speaking from personal experience, is an easy place to go these days!), we can instead see these waves of challenge and suffering as an opportunity for our souls to grow and mature, an opportunity for us to learn how to live fully, an opportunity for us to let down our constant resistance to life and live fearlessly, fully trusting our heart’s capacity for love. 

Gratitude’s magic lies in its ability to get us to drop our resistance in exchange for an embrace. 

It seems like all of my musings here end up in a similar place -- one of allowing our awareness to aid us in giving up the constant fight against what is, to embracing it all instead. Even when it’s hard, especially when it’s hard, our awareness and mindfulness practice teaches us how to be with it, loving (not necessarily liking!) each moment for the gift that it truly is -- another moment to wake up to the reality that we are surrounded by love, swimming in it really. 

I have a choice. I can spend my energy and focus fearing and dreading the suffering that is coming out of this moment in time. Or I can spend my energy and place my awareness on expanding the love and compassion coming out of this moment in time, even if it starts with just being grateful for the breath I’m breathing right now. 

Even when I spend my energy and focus on the fearful dreading side of things gratitude and awareness can still lift me up to my best self. The more I practice, the more I see and can remember that it was during all of the “worst” times in my life when I’ve experienced the most growth. Keeping this in mind makes it easier to trust in the moment and the love that holds us all. From this trust I’m better equipped to see moments to be grateful for on even my worst days.

We’ve got just this one life, these few years to walk this earth. What better way to spend this time than experiencing gratitude as witness to all of the little miracles that make up each day? One of my teachers would end each evening on retreat with the reminder to really pay attention as we tucked ourselves into bed at night. That juicy feeling of laying down, getting under the covers and coming to rest - “don’t miss it!” he would say. Echoing his sentiments, I encourage you to find the juicy moments in your day today, savor the beauty surrounding you and the love holding you. Don’t miss it!

Dropping Our Shoulds

For the last couple of weeks I’ve been aware of a slow creeping shoulder tension that starts on about Monday or Tuesday, around when I feel like I should be coming up with new content for this blog. Without a topic planned ahead of time I start to stress and fill my mind with possible topics and insights to share. Sometimes though, I just don’t feel so insightful, and instead I end up feeling kind of tense and uncomfortable.

Apart from caring for my son (which takes a lot of attention, patience, and presence) these days my only responsibility is one I’ve imposed upon myself, a commitment I made to myself to write a post here and record a guided meditation each week. I’m all for holding myself accountable, but the imperative, the ‘should’ I’ve shoved onto my thinking throughout the week, that’s not helpful for me in meeting my goals. (Though, in this rare instance it kind of is, because it’s led to an insight about “should” that I can share now.)

Noticing this ‘should’ in my thoughts and body tension has helped point me to other ‘shoulds’ I’ve been carrying around, specifically ‘shoulds’ I’ve been holding about my emotional state. This week, as we are at almost an entire month of being in our home together without going for more than a walk or jog — I finally feel like we’re getting into a smooth routine. As a family we seem to be working together pretty well and our day to day life is thankfully uneventful and unremarkable. However, I’ve noticed a creeping sense of guilt for feeling so happy together. I know so much suffering is taking place all around me, and by nothing more than good luck (and lots and lots of handwashing!) we’ve been spared much of that pain and challenge right now. I have a sense that I should feel more worried or that I should feel less happy about getting to spend so many lazy days with my two favorite guys, or a sense that I should be working more, or doing more than just getting through each day.

But just like last week I was working with the challenges of feeling cruddy and down because of the collective suffering of this pandemic, this week my ‘shoulds’ are creating a problem where there isn’t one — among my feelings of relative happiness and ease. Neither emotional state is a problem — but my judgement of them creates the friction and resistance. What happens when I drop the ‘should’ and just let myself feel what I feel without needing it to be more or less of anything? And in my ‘work’ of writing these blogs and recording guided meditations, what happens when I remove the imperative and just trust and allow them to come to fruition more naturally and not out of stress?

Well, for one, I feel a lot less tense when I drop the imperative. As the mental resistance I hold towards my emotions and to-do list begins to melt, so to does the physical tension that had accompanied it. With that resistance diminished, spaciousness often arises and an allowing of whatever is here suddenly feels do-able. The urgency to change or do whatever it was I thought I should gives way to a quiet, timeless quality of ease. A sense of trust comes, reminding me that whatever I feel is enough, is ok, and that whatever I do or don’t do, I am enough.

At the heart of my ‘shoulds’ is a resistance to what is, a judgmental delusion that doesn’t allow or want the present moment to be as it is mixed with a false idea that I’m somehow flawed or incomplete if I don’t do as I should. Recognizing this and softening my grip on how I think things should be makes life so much easier.

And not to fear, letting my ‘shoulds’ rest does not equate to me just sitting idly, doing nothing. Well, sometimes it does if that’s what feels like an appropriate response at the time. But really, letting my ‘shoulds’ rest creates fertile soil for me to cultivate a sense of trust to see what I want, what my heart and body desire in their deepest depths. It allows me to listen to my needs and respond accordingly without guilt or fear. And that looks different each day. Listening to my heart’s whisper may be pausing for an afternoon cup of tea, it may be a non-stop cleaning session in the kitchen, or getting silly during a ninja dance party with my son. But the common thread to all these is that someone else’s idea of productivity or success doesn’t affect my happiness or inherent value as a human. I don’t know about you, but for me, that's kind of a big deal!

I know for myself that dropping my ‘shoulds’ is not always easy. The ‘shoulds’ are not always easy to identify because they’re so often disguised as well meaning encouragement that don’t always seem like resistance or judgment. And when I do identify them, it’s easy for me to get caught in a story or view that I really ought to be following them. But the more I get to the heart of them, the easier they give way to ease and peace.

I've recorded the following guided meditation with the hope that you too can begin to identify and release some of your ‘shoulds.’ What does it feel like when you know at your core that you are enough? That no matter what you feel or do, you are ok, lovable and worthy? Because I assure you, you are!

Beginner's Mind

I preface this post with the acknowledgment that these concerns of boredom and how to entertain a toddler without leaving the house pale in comparison to the harsh reality of life in a pandemic for many others - sickness, death, anxiety, hunger, and financial worries. Not to mention those people who were already experiencing so many of these sufferings and now have the pandemic compounding their stresses.

Things are really hard right now.

However, I also imagine that there are millions of other parents in a similar position to my own, and I want to offer what I can to help. I’ll save my posts on sickness and death for another day. For now, here is how I’ve been doing my best to respond to what appears to be our new normal these days.

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My husband has been keeping track of our days in isolation with some tally marks on our kitchen chalkboard. At the end of the day yesterday with ALL the legos scattered around the living room floor, mingling with the marble set and the wooden puzzles that were inching into the toppling pile of clean laundry, it was hard for me to not view his tracker as a jailhouse tally of my time served.

Please don’t get me wrong, our situation is nothing like jail nor are we facing any real hardship beside the struggle to meet our own minds with compassion as our world dips deeper into chaos and suffering. But I bet I’m not alone among those of you for whom things are mostly ok. Sure we’re healthy and have enough to eat, we even have a back yard, but this is a really trying time mentally and emotionally. This time in the world is WEIRD - full of ups and downs, and loads of uncertainty. On top of everything happening in the outside world, in our own household daddy is home everyday now and we don’t go to school or the park anymore! This just feels like a recipe for mental and emotional turmoil - not to mention the anxiety from the fact that we may all be just one eye rub or face itch away from infecting ourselves with a deadly disease. Talk about tricky!

But back to the tally marks… last night it was hard for me to look at my pile of brown rice, frozen veggies and the legos at my feet without questioning how long I’d be able to maintain this. One day after the next, one bowl of rice after the next. Then I remembered where I was five years ago around this time. I had just come off of a monthlong silent retreat. I remember the same trepidation and concern about boredom and monotony after my first sitting practice that month. How would I ever get through four more weeks of meditating all day everyday?!

Thankfully mindfulness practice is just the antidote for that boredom, because a key element of mindfulness is in paying attention to each breath, each moment with the same loving curiosity a toddler has when watching a butterfly emerging from its cocoon. Can we have a toddler’s rapt awareness of even the littlest detail during our day? This is often called beginner’s mind. We approach each moment, each breath as though it is the first time we’ve experienced a breath, like we’re just beginners at this whole game. When we get into our routines things can get a little boring, and a bored mind tends to miss out on the excitement going on all around us.

While on the one hand I’m facing a seemingly unending pile of brown rice in my future, my daily routine has also been turned on its head. This is the perfect time to work on honing my beginner’s mind. What does a grain of brown rice really taste like? How does my son’s hair fall as he concentrates on his legos? What does our apple tree look like today?

Remembering that everything is always changing, there is so much new to discover each moment. If I get caught up in my pity party about having to repeat the same habits, routines and boring meals each day, then I miss out on so much beauty and joy taking place right in front of me.

Maybe instead of seeing our chalk tally marks of isolation as a count of how many days we’ve been holed up under house arrest, I can start to see them as a record of how many times I got to meet myself as someone new.

I hope the following practice gives you a little relief and offers a new take on the same old thing. ;)