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Spring Cleaning: Finding Equanimity and Peace of Mind in Purification Practices March 31, 2025 15:12
If you prefer to listen to this month's blog offering, please click HERE to access the audio link.
It started with the table. I was standing at the sink washing dishes, and as I turned my head, I said aloud, "I can't take this anymore."
The piles of mail...the crumbs...the placemats with dried food stains...the vitamin and spice bottles that seemed to multiply and take over the table.
I knew it was time to do something. I plan a lot of things--I take comfort in planning, actually--but I rarely plan deep-cleaning adventures. I typically fall into them accidentally and organically, mainly because I tend to delay and procrastinate these projects.
But it's Spring Break--and it's the perfect time for spring cleaning adventures. I spent thirty minutes clearing off the table, scrubbing it clean, changing the placemats, and washing the large ceramic bowl that we fill with apples and use as a centerpiece. I sorted through the mail and put away all of the vitamin and spice bottles.
It was a small accomplishment, but I felt better afterwards, and it created more space and warmth in the kitchen.
This small adventure led to my cleaning off the cabinet space next to the fridge, which led, naturally, to Swedish death cleaning the bedroom closet upstairs.
It felt good to sort through and donate clothes that we no longer wear--to sweep away the cobwebs that accumulate in shadowy corners--to toss broken hangers and receipts that piled up on the dresser.
This process of clearing space, making room, and sorting through clutter felt a bit like a purification practice to me.
The following day, I was sitting in the "tiger chair" upstairs during an online meditation practice on Zoom. I've enjoyed these daily meditation sessions for the past few years. They are led by sangha members connected with Sravasti Abbey.
As we were beginning the 35 Confession Buddhas purification practice, I was distracted by the wall across from me, where I keep a framed print of Shakyamuni Buddha.
Instead of completing the usual prostrations and recitations connected with this practice, I took the framed print and other photos off of the wall and dusted the wall with a dry wash cloth. I grabbed a large plastic bowl (one leftover from my daughter's graduation party and perfect for cleaning) and filled it with soapy water. I spent the remainder of the session cleaning the wall and baseboards. I also cleaned and rehung the pictures on the wall.
Again--I noticed a difference--a subtle shift in the energy of the room. I felt lighter and uplifted as a result, and it was nice to listen to a purification practice and Lam Rim meditation while I worked.
For the rest of the week, I did a little bit more each day--one soapy, water-filled bowl at a time--until I had thoroughly cleaned the rest of the living room, the bedroom, and the upstairs bathroom.
This week-long purification process included washing walls, ceilings, and baseboards from top-to-bottom and from left-to-right. I opened the windows and let fresh air flow through the house. Accompanied by the sounds of peeper frogs and birdsong, I cleared away the dust and clutter, making room for something new and welcoming a new season.
***
In Buddhism, purification practices such as the 35 Confession Buddhas and Vajrasattva Sadhana have the power to cleanse negative karma, mental defilements, and obscurations that prevent us from progressing on the path of spiritual growth, and, ultimately, liberation from suffering.
I've heard more than one Buddhist teacher recommend completing some kind of purification practice every day in order to continue to make steady progress on the path.
I've found that dedicating a few minutes each day to offering prostrations, completing the 35 Confession Buddhas practice and Vajrasattva recitations to be personally beneficial and satisfying to my own practice. It's like a spiritual cleaning practice--a daily "tidying up" to clear away doubts, regrets, and obstacles. Purification practices help us to find equanimity and peace of mind.
***
Spring is ideal for deep cleaning; it's not only good for the home, but also for the physical and mental health of the inhabitants. Clearing away the clutter uplifts spirits and opens spaces for new growth and potential.
Happy Spring, Everyone!
I hope you make time each day to complete your own personal spiritual practices. May they be of benefit to you and to those around you.
If, like me, you are motivated to do a deep Spring cleaning as well, I recommend starting small to avoid overwhelm. Beginning with a table, a cabinet, a drawer, or a small room or closet can foster a sense of accomplishment and provide the motivation to continue your own deep cleaning adventure.
Thank you for taking the time to read or listen to this month's offering. I hope that this new Spring season is treating you well so far.
I have added a few new malas to the current Middle Moon Malas online collection. I also have a few new designs waiting in the wings. Please take a look at the current collection of one-of-a-kind, hand-knotted malas that are designed to inspire and support your own practices.
Enjoy this last day of March--I'll see you again soon at the close of April.
OM.AH.HUM.: Simple Practices, Sincere Friendships, Meaningful Blessings February 28, 2025 16:57
If you prefer to listen to this month's offering, please click HERE for the audio link.
A few summers ago, I drove a dharma friend home after we had attended a weekend teaching together in Louisville. Traffic was light on this beautiful August day—cloudless blue sky, sunny, and warm.
I enjoyed chatting with my friend, Marietta. She told me about her adventures in Nepal from years ago, and we shared stories about our families.
During this trip, I noticed something interesting about my friend. At one point during our drive, we passed a small family cemetery just off the side of the road. It included a few tombstone markers enclosed with wrought iron fencing.
When we passed it, I overheard Marietta whisper, “Om. Ah. Hum.” three times. She didn’t make a fuss about it—she didn’t even explain. It was a just simple blessing.
She may not have realized it at the time, but she actually taught me something important with that simple gesture, and she inspired me to incorporate it into my own practice.
***
Ever since that day, any time I’m in the car—whether I’m driving to and from school or Bloomington, anywhere, really—if I see an animal that’s been hit, no matter how big or small—deer, opossum, raccoon, squirrel, chipmunk—I whisper the blessing, “OM. AH. HUM.” three times.
This short, sweet prayer of purification is both simple and direct. “OM” purifies the body. “AH” purifies speech and sound. “HUM” purifies the mind.
Many times, what I think may be an animal is actually something else. I can’t tell you how many times I have “OM. AH. HUMMED” rolled up carpets, abandoned mufflers, shoes, shredded bits of semi tires, and bags of garbage on the side of the road. It doesn’t matter. I whisper “OM. AH. HUM.” anyway, hoping it may be of benefit.
Marietta’s simple gesture helped me stay alert and aware of others and my environment. That’s what this practice is all about—recognizing the relationship between self and others and acknowledging the importance of interconnection.
***
On my drive to school yesterday, a deer crossed the road several yards in front of me. Thankfully, I had plenty of time to slow down to let her cross. I could make out her silhouette in the early morning darkness. She turned her head, the flash of her bluish-green eyeshine reflected back at me.
She made it safely across the street. I slowed down even more, knowing that they often travel in groups. “OM. AH. HUM.”
It’s a reminder to take care—to remember interdependence is everywhere. Nothing we have or do exists or happens without others’ expertise, effort, or service.
Even the simplest of circumstances or situations: “OM. AH. HUM.”
This offering mantra is a simple way to give back. May you be well. May you be happy. May you live with ease. Whether in this life or the next: “OM. AH. HUM.”
***
I woke up early this morning, unsettled from a dream image.
I dreamt that I was trapped in a sphere-shaped pod. The doors were heavy and thick like those on an elevator. I kept trying to open the hatch, but the doors wouldn’t open. I peered through a cloudy square window and noticed that strangers in a nearby pod were watching me and laughing at my distress. I felt isolated, disconnected, and panicked.
The image startled me awake, and I awoke feeling scattered and anxious.
I sat up in bed and remembered a meditation that I had read by Lama Yeshe.
I closed my eyes and imagined that white light filled my head, saturating all the creases and folds of my brain—that my entire head space was saturated with this soft, white light.
I took three long, slow breaths and exhaled and vocalized an extended, “OMMMMMMMMMMM.”
I gave myself time to sit with this light image, and I let the sound drift throughout the bedroom. I allowed thoughts and feelings to drift as well as I noticed the rise and fall of my belly.
After a few minutes, I brought my attention to my throat and imagined a translucent red light saturating the vertebrae of my cervical spine, larynx, and esophagus.
I took three slow breaths, then exhaled and vocalized an extended, “AHHHHHHHHHHH.”
I visualized the soft red light and imagined that the sounds settled into the darkness of the room, into the warm flannel sheets, the books on the nightstand, the clothes hanging in the closet, and into the floor.
Finally, I brought my awareness to my heart and visualized a clear blue translucent light filling and radiating from my chest.
I took three long breaths and exhaled, “HUUUUUUUUUUMMMMMM.”
Light and sound settled my heart and mind, alleviated my anxiety, and soothed my scattered thoughts.
It just took a few minutes, but this simple meditation was an effective tool that helped me to regulate and calm my mind.
***
I am grateful for these simple and beneficial practices. I am grateful for sincere friendships, and I am grateful for those of you who take the time to read or listen to these monthly musings.
I hope this month of February has treated you well, and I hope that March will have many blessings and meaningful lessons to offer all of us.
***
Please visit the MMM homepage HERE for the current collection of hand-knotted malas.
I’ve also included the link to the Lama Yeshe article about the OM. AH. HUM. meditation that I referenced earlier, if you’re interested.
(Photo credit: Manoj Balotia courtesy of Unsplash)
Peace and strength to all of you—
Warmly,
Teresa
Compassion Is the Antidote: Integrating Joy, Justice, and Humor into Practice January 31, 2025 22:12
If you prefer to listen to this month's blog offering, please click HERE for the audio link.
In some ways, the month of January has slowly dragged on as if we were pulling a heavy weight uphill. At the same time, it seems to have streaked by like a flash of light. I don’t know about you, but I am exhausted! We have certainly witnessed and endured a great deal this month, from political chaos to environmental disasters to personal tragedies…the suffering has been overwhelming this month.
WISDOM:
It’s certainly easy to get bogged down with all the bad news. Personally, I have found a bit of relief in the wisdom of others. I recently listened to an interview on Kelly Corrigan’s podcast, Kelly Corrigan Wonders, with the writer Kendra Adachi. They were discussing Adachi’s book, The Plan: Manage Your Time Like a Lazy Genius.
This book, which I was able to check out from my local library, is a delightful read that is packed with helpful tips and nuggets of wisdom. This book is not just about time management; it’s about how to live a meaningful, integrated life.
Adachi’s advice is clear and practical, and I love her humorous footnotes as well. One of the biggest messages that resonated with me was, “The goal is not greatness. The goal is integration.”
Living a wholehearted life as opposed to accomplishing an endless list of tasks sounds great to me! The major tenets of living an integrated life include accepting ourselves as is, taking care of ourselves, embracing our lives as works-in-progress, and tending to our daily responsibilities with patience and compassion.
Instead of feeling fragmented and scattered with everything that we’d like and need to do, being grounded, steady, and calm are essential for cultivating an integrated life. Integration is the key to bringing all of those scattered parts together, along with compassion, kindness, and care.
Adachi’s book has been a welcome life raft for me this month, (and Kelly Corrigan’s podcast is amazing, too). While reading her book, one of her footnotes captured my attention and led me to check out another book from the library: The Enneagram for Black Liberation: Return to Who You are beneath the Armor You Carry by Chichi Agorom.
I don’t know very much about the enneagram system, but this book is certainly much more than a catalogue of personality types. Agorom’s book is well-written and engaging. I’ve just started diving in, but this quote captured my attention right away:
“Wellness is a state of balance that comes from having our personal, relational, and collective needs met. Because wellness includes the PERSONAL, RELATIONAL, and COLLECTIVE, there can be no wellness without justice. If the systems that govern our communities are structured in a way that ignores or exacerbates our needs, we cannot be truly well.”
If you, too, are feeling a bit overwhelmed, finding solace and inspiration in the wisdom of others may be of help. Follow what fascinates you—investigate what makes you curious.
COMPASSION:
Another antidote is compassion. Compassion takes this notion of integration to the next level.
The good news is, compassion is something we can all cultivate on a personal level—which means we are in charge of our own capacity to be kind and caring to ourselves and to others.
Recently, I had a conversation with one of the students I tutor on a weekly basis. I’ll refer to him as Phillip (not his actual name). Phillip is a very sensitive student; he’s prone to anxiety, and he can be extremely self-critical. Plagued with self doubt, he often sabotages his own learning and success by putting himself down.
Phillip has been working on a speech for his English class for a few weeks, and he will present it later on this week. The purpose of the speech is a self-introduction, where students share three personal anecdotes that illustrate what matters to them.
Helping him plan and organize this speech was challenging. Every time I offered encouragement or asked a guiding question, he would counter with a self-defeating statement.
His speech teacher mentioned to me that he overheard Phillip say in class, “I don’t know why people have so much faith in me.”
This week, I asked Phillip to practice his speech during our session. He opened his Chromebook to check his notes; I kept an eye on the clock to monitor his timing (the speech needed to be between two to three minutes long). He started out slowly, but he picked up momentum and enthusiasm as he talked. He mentioned his love of drawing and playing video games, and he’d like these interests to lead him to a career path that involves designing video games in the future.
His points were clear, engaging, and organized—and, his speech was two minutes and twenty seconds long!
I told him that he did a great job, and that I was really proud of him. For once, he didn’t respond with self-criticism, and he didn’t argue with me that it was actually a horrible speech. This is positive progress and a step in the right direction for Phillip.
Offering heartfelt encouragement can mean all the difference to someone, especially during challenging times. Tending to others, even in small ways, can have lasting, meaningful effects.
MEANINGFUL ACTION:
Another way to demonstrate compassion on a larger scale is to take meaningful action. There are multitudes of ways to take meaningful action. For me, it involves staying informed—and relying on credible, fact-based news sources (NPR, PBS News Hour, MSNBC are my go-to sources, along with Heather Cox Richardson’s daily letters for historical context).
This week, I have called state and national leaders—members of the General Assembly and Congress—to voice my opinions on local and national issues that matter to me. Taking the time to do this makes me feel empowered, and speaking up for the benefit of others is a practical way to generate bodhicitta.
Taking the time to call members of Congress prevents me from slipping into a state of hopelessness, and being informed helps me to feel grounded.
Of course, my personal meditation practices, in challenging times and in easy times, help me to stay steady, calm, and grounded as well. Taking refuge and diving into familiar practices allows me to find clarity and equanimity, and I hope your practices benefit you as well.
***
May you find peace and happiness in this New Year. May you also find wisdom, and may you cultivate compassion, meaning, humor, hope, and justice. Be well, and, by all means, keep practicing.
Several new Middle Moon Malas designs have been added to the current online collection. Each one-of-a-kind design is intended to support and inspire meaningful practice.
Suffering and Happiness: A Tangled Interconnection January 8, 2025 17:40
If you prefer to listen to this month's blog article, click HERE for the audio link.
During a recent meditation class, my teacher, Geshe Kunga, said something that has stuck with me, and I have been mulling it over for several days.
He said that happiness and suffering are interdependent and interconnected. For example, we appreciate food more if we have ever experienced hunger first hand. If we've ever lived in a country where water was a scarce and precious resource, we are more careful about how we use water--even if we're in a place where it is plentiful.
The suffering and lack of resources stimulates an appreciation and a strong sense of responsibility. This is the relationship between suffering and happiness.
Suffering, like everything else, is impermanent--and, so is happiness. Consequently, our lives are a blend of both--just like the beads on a mala. The beads themselves represent the beautiful aspects of life. The knots between the beads represent the hardships and obstacles. A meaningful life includes a balance of both.
Since January of this year, I have been practicing Lam Rim meditations with an online group connected with Sravasti Abbey. I enjoy the daily sessions--the familiarity of the mantra recitations, the visualizations, and the analytical contemplations that comprise this daily practice.
However, there's a part of the practice that I struggle with a bit, and it makes me bristle and cringe. As we begin the Shakyamuni Buddha sadhana, we visualize our birth mother on our left and our biological father on our right as we imagine leading them, along with other sentient beings, in this practice of gratitude and appreciation.
Both of my birth parents were challenging for me in many ways. They divorced when I was very young, so I didn't really know my father. What I did know wasn't good--he was a misogynist, a bigot, and a literal card-carrying member of the KKK.
My mother survived a serious car accident when she was a teenager. She slammed through the windshield...twice...and sustained serious head trauma at sixteen when she was riding in a car with friends.
As a result, she suffered with mental health issues ever since I can remember and even up until the time she died. When I was growing up, she took various combinations of medications over the course of decades ranging from anti-depressants to anti-psychotics. She worked with several therapists over the years, she was hospitalized several times, and she even endured shock-therapy treatments.
Looking back, I really think that she may have been misdiagnosed, and I believe that working with a therapist who specialized in trauma would have benefited her. However, I don't know if there were many specialists like that in the 70s.
Living with her when I was growing up, I remember that she was extremely self-absorbed, withdrawn, emotionally unavailable toward others, and needy. She was able to work for a while, but when she stopped working, she spent most of her time lying on the couch with her eyes closed--or staying in her room with the door closed.
She was very intelligent and bright...cogent...lucid...but also extremely preoccupied with her own wants and needs. When she did speak, it was usually something about herself or a needy request for some impulse craving: "Will you go to the store and get me a candy bar and a can of creamed corn?"
This was an actual request--and there were many random demands like this over the years.
I didn't know about causes, conditions, and karma at the time (I grew up in a Catholic home and didn't discover Buddhism until I was in my late 20s), but her life and choices demonstrated for me the drawbacks of self-cherishing and self-grasping thoughts.
All the medications and therapy didn't really help her much. She was obsessed with herself, and her self-absorption made her (and the rest of the family) miserable. Growing up with a difficult parent and home life encouraged me to seek other alternatives.
I walked away from Catholicism and embraced Buddhism instead.
I rejected my birth father's racist views and welcomed inclusive, anti-racist, and culturally-appreciative ideologies instead.
I did NOT want to be like my mom, so I focused more on giving rather than taking--on being of benefit to others rather than focusing on myself.
This is where suffering and happiness meet--and the line they share is in the choices we make.
If we're not happy, we can decide to choose another thought, another word, or another action. Our situation may not change immediately; it takes time. My life didn't begin to change for the better until I moved out of my parents' home at nineteen. I had to be consistent...and patient.
However, when I was in college and really focused on learning about subjects that fascinated me, especially learning how to educate others and helping others figure out what fascinated them, my life started to improve dramatically.
I have always enjoyed learning about other cultures. For a while, I considered the notion of studying cultural anthropology. Appreciating and learning about other cultures and viewpoints taught me to be open-minded and open-hearted, rather than fearful, limited, and hateful.
Interacting and teaching students from diverse cultures has enriched my life--and has encouraged me to feel connected and interconnected in this world.
Reading books and listening to music by writers and musicians from different walks of life and backgrounds has nourished my own curiosity and development.
My first teachers, my birth parents, taught me what NOT to be, what NOT to do. These early years of difficulty and suffering led to many more of growth, renewal, and happiness.
My life is far from perfect, and I am not happy all the time. That is for sure! I still struggle and suffer. I still make mistakes and screw up...a lot...but when I do, I know that I have choices. I know that I can sit with discomfort--listen to my thoughts--observe my feelings. I know that I can turn to others if I need guidance. I know that suffering, like happiness, is not permanent.
I also know that I can rely on the Dharma for inspiration. I know that I can rely on my practice for stability and clarity. I know that by focusing on others more than myself--by practicing generosity, patience, consistent and skillful effort, and by making time for daily meditation, I can manage more effectively these moments of suffering and disappointment.
Even now, having had time to reflect and write about this topic and these relationships, I now have a daily opportunity to reframe how I feel about my birth parents. My mom passed away nearly a decade ago. My birth father, I presume, is still living in a small town somewhere in Illinois. When I visualize them, appearing to my left and my right, I can now work toward feeling grateful. Despite the struggles and challenges, they taught me invaluable lessons, and my time with them eventually inspired me to grow and build a meaningful life.
My hope in writing these monthly blog posts is that they may benefit whoever reads (or listens to) them in some way.
May you continue to learn and grow in your own practice, and perhaps you'll find buried treasures among your own memories and relationships--evidence of interconnection--sparks of awareness, understanding, and compassion.
***
Several malas found new homes during this month. I've added a few to the collection, and I'm working on creating more one-of-a-kind designs. I invite you to visit the website to see what's new, and feel free to reach out if you have a special request.
Photo credit: Unsplash (kylefromthenorth)
100th Offering: Winter Reflections December 31, 2024 10:30
If you prefer to listen to this month's offering, please click HERE for the audio link.
Winter is a season of rest and renewal. It is the time of vanishing from view, and it is the time when transformation occurs…in quiet darkness.
Winter is not the death of the life cycle; it is the catalyst, the crucible, the womb. Winter is an essential period of descent, of going within, and taking much-needed time for reflection.
During this time of year, western culture encourages overworking, overspending, overeating, and overconsuming. However, in the natural world, winter encourages us to embrace the darkness, to hibernate in the womb of the earth, and to embrace this time of introspection. In this way, we are like seeds planted deep in the earth. This time of reflection is the key to the promise of blooming in the spring. It is the key to realizing our potential and to continuing to grow and progress.
This is Middle Moon Malas’ 100th blog post. I am approaching my tenth business anniversary in 2025, and in preparing for this month’s offering, I decided to read all ninety-nine previous blogs in order.
Honestly, I dreaded this at first. Reading my own articles is a bit like listening to my own voice on a recording. I was convinced that I would cringe in embarrassment at every single article—and that I would find them to be meaningless, incoherent, and dumb.
While some offerings were more interesting than others, each one was carefully written and had something honest, intelligent, and authentic to communicate.
After reading these articles, I was pleasantly surprised, and it warms my heart to know that people from all over the world have taken the time to read or listen to these posts over the years.
So, after reading and reflecting on these monthly offerings, I’ve decided to make a list of some of the most important lessons and takeaways that I’ve learned over the course of this year. May they be of benefit to others as well.
- Cultivate a spiritual practice that resonates with you or a creative endeavor that nurtures and nourishes you—those ventures that make you forget about the time. Those labors of love that are meaningful and that foster play and curiosity. These activities are critical to your personal wellbeing and your growth as a human being. Make time for these precious practices and creative pursuits. They help make you who you are and who you will be. They are worth your time and effort. Enjoy them!
- One of the best antidotes to counter feeling discouraged, insignificant, or sad is to do something to uplift others. It doesn’t have to be dramatic or complicated. Simple and sincere actions are best. A smile, a compliment, a listening ear are all opportunities to celebrate others, and in celebrating others, we boost ourselves, too.
- Taking time to honor those who have come before you—an ancestor practice or honoring the natural world—is important. Spending time outdoors and connecting in some meaningful way with the past or with elders can be extremely grounding and stabilizing. Going for a walk, planting flowers, reading a biography, flipping through a family photo album, or even attending a reunion can be catalysts for connection, reconnection, and interdependence.
- Because nothing is permanent, don’t attach to anything…or anyone. That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t care about anything or anybody; just be careful not to be grippy, clingy, or needy. This can be easier said than done; however, being aware of our triggers and tendencies can prevent us from getting snared in traps of our own making. Unhealthy attachments can be forms of manipulation, and they can also promote stagnation in relationships and resistance to what is.
- True friends will respect your boundaries. When you communicate clearly that something is not OK and does not feel safe for you, your friends will respect that. They won’t shame, blame, ignore, and gossip about you. When you set healthy boundaries, you will discover who your friends are…and who they aren’t. This is important information. When people show you who they are, believe them. Continue to cultivate friendships with those who value and respect you for who you are, and who encourage you to keep growing and improving.
- Exploration and travel expand our perspectives and broaden our understanding of others. They enrich us and cultivate compassion for others. They motivate us to take care of each other and our world. You don’t have to travel far to realize this—a visit to a neighboring state or country can have this effect. Let your fascination and curiosity guide you, and enjoy your journeys. Safe travels!
- Taking anything personally is a symptom of self-centered grasping. It is a way of making something that has nothing to do with us about us. Notice when this tendency arises for you and work toward letting go of this habit. Be gentle with yourself—this is not an easy one.
- Ethics! Ethics! Ethics! Choosing leaders, teachers, and friends who are kind, compassionate, and ethical is extremely important. Surrounding yourself with people who care about others and this planet will benefit you, others, and this planet. Encouraging others to be kind and compassionate by modeling kindness and compassion will have positive ripple effects as well. While writing this today, I heard of the passing of President Carter. He was 100 years old, and he was an ethical, compassionate humanitarian whose lifelong service to others benefitted many. May he rest in peace and power, and may his example motivate others to be of meaningful service as well.
- Pay attention to small, sensory details: The smell of vegetable soup simmering in a slow cooker on a kitchen counter. A plump squirrel nibbling on a bright red Honeycrisp in the yard. Luna, the neighbor’s white Labradoodle, barking in the distance. Shafts of sunlight reveal a thin layer of dust on a computer screen. Details add flavor, color, and texture to just about everything. Paying attention to them is an awareness practice—the art of noticing. What are you noticing? What captures your interest and attention? Specificity matters.
- “Fitting in is for sardines.” This is the last line of a John Roedel poem. It caught my eye, it made me laugh, and it made me wish I had heard it when I was in junior high school. It would have been extremely helpful wisdom for me at that time. Honestly, it’s just as useful now. Fitting in is overrated. Celebrate your individuality, and embrace your beautiful, quirky weirdness.
Taking the time to be present, to be quiet, and to reflect is an important daily practice, but it’s also beneficial to take a longer view and contemplate the wisdom gained over the course of a year…or a decade.
Imagine yourself as a bear hibernating in a warm, loamy den. What observations, insights, and nuggets of wisdom would you be kicking around in your restful state of torpor?
Take some time to rest, restore, and reflect as we wrap up 2024 and ease into whatever adventures wait for us in 2025.
Thank you for taking the time to read or listen to this month’s offering…and a special thanks for those who have read any of the previous ninety-nine. I certainly appreciate you.
I continue to add new mala designs to the online shop, so be sure to check out the current catalogue of the one-of-a-kind Middle Moon Malas while you’re here.
I hope 2025 treats you well, and I hope your personal practices continue to benefit you and others in the New Year.
(Photo of tiny snowman courtesy of Unsplash)
Grief, Grace, Grit, and Gratitude: A Thanksgiving Reflection November 30, 2024 14:08
If you prefer to listen to this month's offering, please click HERE for the audio link.
GRIEF:
I don’t know about you, but the month of November has been a roller coaster for me. I’ve been dipping, diving, climbing, and spiraling through all the emotions this month.
The results of the recent election were devastating and heartbreaking for me. I was really hoping and hopeful for a different result—both for my state and country—but neither panned out. I am really terrified for my students and for the future of this country. We have made a horrible mistake, and we are heading in the wrong direction. There is so much more that I could say about this, but I’m going to leave it at that for now.
As a result, this devastating loss has brought raw emotions to the surface for me, and I find myself reacting much more strongly to other, unrelated situations.
For example, when I heard about the passing of 399, the famous mama Grizzly bear that Thomas Mangelsen has been following and photographing for nearly twenty years, I broke down and sobbed.
I have been grieving her loss for weeks now. Several months ago, I watched the PBS Nature documentary, 399: Queen of the Tetons. It was a beautiful film that chronicled the story of 399 and the work of Thomas Mangelsen.
Unfortunately, 399 was struck and killed by a vehicle in late October. I hope her most recent cub, Spirit, continues to thrive so that her legacy may live on.
One of the producers of the film, Elizabeth Leiter, said of 399: “She’s the wildest woman I’ve ever met.” 399 is the oldest known mother Grizzly in the Yellowstone and Grand Teton ecosystem. She was twenty-eight years old when she died; most Grizzlies only live between twenty to twenty-five years, and she has given birth to eighteen cubs, which is remarkable. 399 is the first resident bear of the Jackson Valley region in forty years, and her presence has helped to reoccupy and recover the Grizzly population, which is also significant.
399 represents strength, resilience, protection, and independence. An inspiration to us all and an ambassador of the wild world, she will certainly be missed. The death of this beautiful matriarch is a major loss, indeed.
(This is not a photo of 399. It is a photo of a grizzly courtesy of Unsplash. Please visit Thomas Mangelsen's website for beautiful photos of 399 and her cubs)
GRACE:
Last weekend, my daughter invited me to attend the 100th Anniversary Celebration of the Sigma Alpha Iota Indianapolis Alumnae Chapter. She joined this international musical fraternity when she attended ISU.
It was a lovely event held at an Episcopal church on the east side of Indianapolis. As part of the celebration, several members performed musical pieces during this event. A young soprano named Anna began with a beautiful Puccini aria: “O Mio Babbino Caro.”
The acoustics in this church were fantastic, and I did all I could do to hold in an ugly cry while she was singing. Her performance was so moving, but I could not stop the tears from streaming down my face.
Anna sang several pieces and was followed by a professional bassoonist who played a series of movements named after gemstones: “Smoky Quartz,” “Lapis Lazuli,” and “Tiger’s Eye.” Her performance was followed by an extraordinarily talented pianist.
All of these performances were moving and amazing!
Afterwards, we gathered in the lobby of the church to chat and enjoy cake and charcuterie. Elise introduced me to several members of SAI. Everyone was so warm and friendly.
At one point, I chatted with a woman who happened to know my music teacher from junior high school. In the late 1970s, they had traveled to Europe together with a group of musicians who toured and performed in various cities in Germany, Austria, and Switzerland.
I remember my teacher, Miss Engel, talking about this trip, and it inspired the theme of our spring concert that year. We performed selections from The Sound of Music, and she projected slides from her travels during the concert.
Music has a wonderful way of bringing people together, and even though I was not a member of SAI, these women made me feel welcome.
Various scrapbooks and photos were displayed on a table along one wall. After glancing through the photos and article clippings and spending time with these wonderful ladies, it was very clear to me that all of the members who had participated over the years in this fraternity—all of those who had come before over the past century—they were right here with these present members now at this celebration.
I was honored to be a guest and to have a seat at the table with these very talented and warm-hearted women.
GRIT
One of the most important things that has helped me navigate the emotional loop-de-loops of this month is my personal meditation practice.
Daily practice has helped me remain rooted and grounded in the present moment.
I appreciate the online Dharma group associated with Sravasti Abbey that meets every morning, and I’m looking forward to the upcoming Retreat from Afar that will begin in January. If you’re interested in this, feel free to check out the Sravasti Abbey website for more information.
I also appreciate my personal Sadhana and recitation practices that I make time for every day as well as the Sunday Dharma talks in Bloomington.
Diving deeply into daily practice keeps me steady and stable in the now—it keeps the fears and anxieties at bay, and it helps me to take care of myself—to renew, to regulate, and to regenerate so that I can be of benefit to others.
GRATITUDE
Despite all the chaos and disappointments that this month has brought, I was grateful to celebrate Thanksgiving with family.
Jim is recovering from a really bad cold, and I’m glad that he’s finally feeling better. Elise and Christopher had another family gathering to attend in the afternoon, so we decided to host a Thanksgiving breakfast this year.
I had made corn muffins, cranberry sauce, and a savory Native American salad the night before. Elise and Christopher brought sweet rolls, Jim cooked bacon and sausage, and I made a quiche on Thanksgiving morning.
It was so nice to start the day with family and a delicious meal.
Taking time to reflect on what’s going smoothly—and who makes you happy is an important practice, too. It’s just as important as reciting mantra and counting beads on a mala.
Acknowledging blessings and the people you hold dear help us to navigate through the difficult times.
The beads on a mala represent the beautiful aspects of life—a safe home, caring loved ones, delicious food.
The knots represent the obstacles and challenges—worries, fears, and loss.
However, a meaningful life includes a balance of BOTH—and accepting everything that comes our way, navigating the ups and downs with an open mind and compassionate heart, allowing us to cultivate wisdom and appreciating the everyday joys that surround us.
I’m also extremely grateful for all of you who take the time to read or listen to these monthly musings.
I hope you are happy and well, and I hope your practice is helping you to navigate the obstacles and to appreciate the joys of your own lives.
Blessings to all of you!
Be sure to check out the MMM website. I have added a few additional designs, and plan to add even more in the coming weeks. Also, I don’t typically add quarter malas to the online shop, but if you’re interested in a design that I’ve posted on IG or FB, please don’t hesitate to reach out. I am happy to create custom designs (quarter malas or full malas) as well.
Reunions and Reconnections: Opportunities for Growth, Renewal, and Progress October 31, 2024 14:54
If you prefer to listen to this month's offering, please click HERE for the audio link.
“Cultivating a kind mind is the best and most important thing we can ever do. It is the most precious endeavor we can dedicate ourselves to.”
Jim and I met in high school back in the 80s. We were in the same geometry class, and we also had orchestra together. We married a few years after graduating from high school, and we have been together for thirty-eight years.
Earlier this month, we attended our 40th high school reunion in Indianapolis. The venue was a riverside patio bar. Inside, strands of icicle lights lined the walls, a banner with “Cheers for 40 Years” surrounded by black and gold balloons decorated the back wall, and a DJ played 80s tunes from a laptop: “Crazy for You,” “Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go,” “I’m on Fire,” “Smooth Operator,” “Footloose.”
We purchased our tickets, donned our nametags, and wandered around the room chatting with some friends, some strangers, but all former graduates of Warren Central. I remembered some people from elementary school, some from junior high, and some from high school. When people made eye contact and space for us in their circles, we happily joined their conversations.
***
“If we only think of ourselves, we become easily angered, and our activities will be fraught with problems and obstacles.”
The only other reunion that Jim and I attended prior to this one was our 10th reunion. It was a two-day affair that included a dinner at a hotel, where the highlight of the evening was when Harry the janitor showed up…in his custodian uniform. The following day, a luncheon was held on the grounds of the local Knights of Columbus. It was late spring, and we all sat on our own blankets on the grass and ate our own homemade lunches that we brought with us. We didn’t really mingle or chat much at this previous event. Not enough time had passed, and we still hadn’t quite figured out who we were or where we were going just yet.
***
This reunion, however, was different…in large part…because we were different. Many of us were or had been cultivating careers as business owners, educators, musicians, accountants, engineers, veterans, skilled tradespeople, stay-at-home moms, and government employees.
Whether we were married or not, whether we had children (or grandchildren) or not, no matter what paths we had fallen into or chosen, we were all older, wiser, and open to listening to and celebrating with one another.
I had wonderful conversations with people I never knew in high school. I also had conversations with people who were in the same kindergarten class as me.
I enjoyed asking them questions—and I enjoyed listening to their answers and stories that followed.
***
“If we practice like this, when death arrives, there will be no regrets, and we will be happy with the life we lived.”
One wall of the enclosed patio bar was dedicated to those in our graduating class who had died. Their names and pictures were tributes and reminders of how fragile and impermanent we really are.
One of the names on the wall was particularly significant for me. He had been my protector and shield against daily bullying that I had experienced on the bus when I was in ninth and tenth grades. He didn’t know this at the time; at least, I don’t think he did.
His name was Shannon, and he lived in the apartment complex just down the street from the apartments where my family lived. His stop was before mine, so he was already on the bus when I boarded, followed by the half-dozen bullies who harassed me every day on the way to school.
Shannon was a quiet guy, and a tough guy who no one messed with. He wore a faded denim jacket, a leather wallet on a long chain, and black boots. I quickly learned that if I sat next to him on the bus, the bullies left me alone.
I never spoke to him, and he never talked to me…but I was grateful for his presence, and I was grateful that he shared his seat with me on the bus.
I was sorry to learn that he had passed away. I would have loved to have shared that story with him in person.
***
“By putting effort into developing a kind mind and placing our hopes and trust in this practice, we will see results both in the short term and in the long term.”
What made this reunion such a success is that Jim and I didn’t have any expectations or preconceived notions. In fact, we happened to hear about this event at the last minute and by total happenstance.
We didn’t know who would attend—we were open to chatting with those who were present—and we were far more interested in being present and listening to others talk about their lives than talking about our own.
This reunion also made me realize how important my own meditation practice is and has been over the years. Taking time each day to sit quietly, to recite mantra, and to calm my mind has helped me find my way and grow.
According to Buddhist teachings, our minds carry all the imprints and tendencies accumulated throughout our lives, and this is what carries on into future lives. Developing a kind, compassionate mind matters much more than accumulating wealth or accomplishments.
Developing a kind mind happens slowly over time. They call it a practice for a reason. We cultivate our minds in the small, everyday encounters with others—whether we are taking notes in high school geometry class or having a conversation with a research scientist in a dimly lit patio bar.
When my Tibetan friends refer to “mind,” they point to their chests, where their hearts reside. To them, “mind” is not physiological or neurological in nature, and it’s not confined to the creases and folds of the human brain. Mind is much bigger than that.
***
Reunions are opportunities to check up on our own progress and to connect and reconnect with others in a brief, but meaningful way.
This event also made me grateful to have shared so much of my life with my husband, Jim. Together, we have cultivated a meaningful life and have learned and experienced a great deal over the years. I hope we can share many more years together and continue to learn and grow.
I know I’m certainly in a better place than I was when I was in high school. I’m more secure and confident about who I am. I’m much less concerned about what others think of me, and I’m more curious and open to talking with others. It is this genuine curiosity that fosters compassion, joy, and empathy, and focusing on others truly is the root of happiness.
***
I hope this last day of October treats you well, and I hope November has promising opportunities and benefits to offer. I am currently preparing for Wellbeing Fest, which is coming up on November 10th in Fishers, IN. If you haven’t visited the Middle Moon Malas online collection in a while, I’ve added some new mala designs. Be sure to check that out while you’re here.
Quote Note:
All of the italicized quotations in this article are attributed to Khandro Kunga Bhuma Rinpoche, a highly regarded Tibetan Buddhist teacher, state oracle, and realized practitioner who assists the Fourteenth Dalai Lama in promoting world peace and interreligious harmony.
Improvising and Meditation: Every Change Is Part of the Practice October 2, 2024 12:31
If you prefer to listen to this month's blog offering, please click HERE for the audio link.
We are taught early on to fear and hide our mistakes. The antidote, according to Stephen Nachmanovitch, is finger kissing.
“Finger Kissing” was one of my favorite chapters from Nachmanovitch’s The Art of Is: Improvising as a Way of Life. I love the idea behind this action.
Finger kissing is an act of grace—gratitude—appreciation for the self. It’s an act of anti-judgment—of self-love and self-acceptance—of generosity.
Its playful—it’s intimate—it’s endearing. It’s an act of self-forgiveness—it’s encouraging—and it’s light-hearted.
It’s also a reminder not to take ourselves too seriously—and not to be too hard on ourselves. After all, we are all doing the best we can in this moment. Besides, perfection is never the goal, and as Winston Churchill famously stated, “perfection is the enemy of progress.”
The practice of finger kissing is about being present and mindful. It’s about taking time to listen intently to what’s happening around us and within us.
***
This morning, I stepped outside to make morning offerings. I had a stick of lit incense in my hands along with a cup of birdseed and two small apples.
I slipped into shoes and stepped out into the cool morning darkness. It had rained the night before. The ground was soft, and the sounds of crickets guided me to the Buddha statue in the yard.
As I recited the morning prayer and arranged the offerings, I looked up and saw a bright, gibbous moon framed in cypress branches. I took a moment to take it all in—the moonlight—the branches—the smell of fresh rain—the symphony of crickets—the cool morning air—the offerings.
Finger kissing is like that, too. It’s an act of appreciating what we have in the moment and taking a moment to take it all in. It’s also an act of nourishing ourselves.
I conclude each morning offering session with a brief dedication prayer. Honestly, after reading this chapter, I think I’d like to add finger kissing after the dedication to seal the practice with gratitude, mindfulness, and joy.
***
Later in the day, I had a few minutes between student tutoring sessions, so I walked around the track behind our school.
The sky was overcast and cloudy, and I felt the cool air against my skin. Rain was coming, but not yet. I had enough time to walk a few laps.
Our school is not far from the airport, and every few minutes a plane would fly overhead. Each time, I’d pause, look up, and wave. I wished everyone on board a safe trip. My hope was that someone looking out one of the small windows would return the wave.
I heard the sounds of speeding cars and trucks on I-465. I watched a half dozen killdeer hopping around and feeding in the grassy field that I was circumambulating. I spied a bright yellow feather clinging to the faded pavement, and I felt a deep appreciation for this moment.
***
On September 17, Stephen Nachmanovitch, writer, musician, philosopher, and improviser, visited Butler University for a lecture and performance.
I first heard about his work from my Feldenkrais friend, Tiffany Sankary. She frequently referenced his book, The Art of Is during her online classes, which motivated me to read his book.
According to Nachmanovitch, “Improvising means coming prepared, but not being attached to the preparation.”
It made me think of the many years of teaching English full-time in a public-school setting. I would spend hours creating meaningful, relevant lesson plans for my students, knowing full-well that they would not occur as planned. However, I also knew that if I didn’t prepare, the results would be confusing and disastrous.
Interruptions and changes are inevitable. Questions will arise. Being prepared is essential, and being willing to pivot and go with the flow at a moment’s notice are critical skills for teaching and learning.
According to Nachmanovitch, improvising is about “paying exquisite attention” and how “nothing can spoil your concentration if every change that comes is part of the practice.”
During his lecture at Butler, he admitted that he didn’t plan ahead of time what he would talk about that evening. He relied on his previous experiences, education, and training to guide him. He paid close attention to audience members. He encouraged us to ask questions, and he let our questions guide him.
The same was true for his improvised musical performance. He played an electric violin, but didn’t rely on sheet music. Instead, he relied on intuition and mindfulness. His performance was experimental, playful, immediate, and authentic. He wasn’t attached to the outcome, and he wasn’t fixated on playing every note perfectly.
Instead, he was listening intently, responding intuitively and musically. We were engaged in a collective conversation.
At the end of the performance, he invited several Butler dance students to join him on the stage. (He had been working with dance students in workshops on campus earlier in the week). As he played his electric violin, dancers moved about the stage. The improvised conversation continued as all participants listened, responded, and reacted to one another. Each contributed to the conversation without worrying about being “right” or “perfect.”
They discovered form and grace from thin air. His music framed the silence; their movements framed the stillness.
***
Improvising is a form of meditation—or—meditation is an act of improvising.
Both involve becoming comfortable with constant change. Both are also meaningful and necessary practices that are impossible to assess or evaluate.
I hope you take a little time today to practice meditation and improvising—whether that involves sitting quietly on a cushion, reciting mantra with a mala, walking around your neighborhood, or dancing in your kitchen as you listen to music.
May you take time to listen attentively today and notice whatever is going on around you.
May you be curious and playful. May you respond with confidence, compassion, wisdom, and grace.
And afterwards, may you offer a sincere dedication… and kiss each of your fingers.
***
Thanks for reading or listening to this month’s offering. Please visit the current Middle Moon Malas collection of hand-knotted malas. Each design was created to inspire and support your personal practice. For custom design inquiries, please send me a message through the Contact Us Page.
Mudita: A Joyful Practice August 25, 2024 17:14
If you prefer to listen to this month's offering, please click HERE for the audio link.
I recently watched a video of a friend of mine jumping out of an airplane for a tandem sky dive. It was something she has always wanted to do—it ranked #3 on her Bucket List. The small GoPro camera was focused on her face. I could hear high winds whipping and the sounds of her jubilant screams as she descended from the sky to earth.
At one point, she looked into the camera directly, smiled, and made the peace sign with her right hand. Variegated layers of blue sky surrounded her along with the flash of sunlight in the background.
The video ended shortly after her tandem master pulled the rip cord, and a bright yellow parachute gently supported their descent to the earth.
***
Last week, my daughter and son-in-law, along with a couple of their friends, attended the Bristol Renaissance Faire in Kenosha, Wisconsin. They had a great time. Dressed as wenches and pirates, they wandered among others dressed as faeries, gnomes, wizards, peasants, and jesters.
They attended a jousting tournament, consumed fried turkey legs and mead, and watched performances with fire eaters, jugglers, and magicians.
They had a blast visiting the past.
***
On Saturday, my husband and his friend, Bruce, traveled to an archery tournament near Louisville. They, along with over 100 other archers from all over the country, spent the day wandering the course and taking aim at 3-D targets. It was an especially hot day, but they enjoyed their time and friendly competition.
***
Recently, friends of mine shared photos of their trip to Paris during the 2024 Olympic games. They wandered down the Champs-Élysées, and immersed themselves in the sights and sounds of this magnificent city. They visited the Louvre Museum, the Eiffel Tower, and l’Arc de Triomphe. They were also able to attend a few Olympic events (gymnastics, beach volleyball, cycling, and swimming). Both had visited Paris before, but the city was especially vibrant and bustling with visitors from all over the world. This adventure was truly the trip of a lifetime for them.
***
Rejoicing for others is an important aspect of Buddhist practice. Mudita, which means sympathetic joy or vicarious joy, is a Sanskrit and Pali term. Mudita is the ability to experience altruistic and appreciative joy, to genuinely celebrate the happiness of others.
Rejoicing for others is a deep and meaningful practice. Depending upon the circumstances, and the people involved, sometimes mudita is easy to practice. Other times, it can be more challenging and difficult.
*
It was easy for me to be happy for my friend, Rosi. She is an adventurer at heart, so I was not surprised at all to see her jumping out of a plane at 6,000 ft. I was truly happy for her as I watched her video. I was grateful that she and her tandem master landed safely, and I could rejoice and celebrate her act of bravery and courage.
I did not feel the tug, however, of longing to jump out of a plane myself, which made experiencing vicarious joy for my friend an easy task.
*
The same goes for my daughter’s adventures. Elise has attended this Ren Faire several times with her friend, Sarah. While I enjoy seeing her photos and hearing about the events and characters she encounters, I don’t feel the need to participate in Medieval cosplay. However, I am happy to rejoice from afar…Merrily!
*
My husband loves archery—and he has ever since I’ve known him. He makes time to practice every day, and he is constantly tinkering with and adjusting his bow to improve his performance. I was happy that he and Bruce could attend this tournament, and I’m glad they enjoyed their trip.
Again, rejoicing was easy-peasy. Besides, it was nice to have the house to myself on a Saturday.
*
I’m not going to lie; I was a little jealous of my friends in Paris. I was happy for them, but I also had that tug of longing in my belly, and I could feel just a slight sting of envy as I watched their videos and scrolled through the photos they shared.
However, I was also grateful to be able to enjoy coverage of the Olympic games from the comfort of my own home. This eased the sting quite a bit.
*
I had fallen into an unexpected mudita practice over the course of this month, and these examples were just the beginning. A much bigger challenge, however, was waiting for me.
His Holiness the Dalai Lama has been staying in the U.S. for a couple of months for a knee-replacement surgery and follow-up rehab. On Thursday, August 22, a huge crowd gathered at the UBS arena in Elmont, NY, for a long-life prayer ceremony in his honor.
Several monastics associated with TMBCC in Bloomington attended this ceremony along with a few of my Dharma friends. I wanted to attend, too. I really wanted to go, but I had other obligations.
Because it was a last-minute trip, I would have had to scramble to prepare for it. It also would have been very inconvenient for my family and my students.
I was happy for my monk friends who shared the stage with HHDL and who chanted the long-life prayers honoring him. I was also happy that this huge arena was filled with thousands of people who traveled long distances to honor and support HHDL before he returned back to Dharamshala. I was also happy for my Dharma friends who were able to make the trip to NY.
*
I thought about the commitments and responsibilities that prevented me from going. I thought about the students who I helped during the week. I thought about the essays they shared with me, and the feedback that I was able to offer them before they were due.
I thought about the emails and phone calls I made during the week, and how some of those connections were essential for advocating and supporting a new faculty member in the English department.
I thought about the quiet time I had in the mornings for personal practice. I thought about the time and energy I had to take care of my home and prepare nourishing meals for Jim and me during the week.
I thought about all the amazing, joyful speeches that I was able to hear on the televised coverage of the Democratic National Convention that was held in Chicago.
I thought about the two health-related appointments that were necessary for my own self-care.
Upon reflection, it was clear that I needed to be at home. My karma required that I stay put. Besides, I was able to enjoy photos and videos that my friends shared. I was also able to watch a full-length video of the ceremony on YouTube. So, really, I didn’t miss out after all.
***
In Cindy Rasicot’s biography This Fresh Existence: Heart Teachings from Bhikkhuni Dhammananda, Venerable Dhammananda, who was the first woman fully ordained in the Thai Theravada Buddhist tradition, and who is a wonderful Dharma teacher, refers to mudita as “a deep practice of overcoming oneself.”
This practice also involves acknowledging, accepting, and celebrating the successes and achievements of others. For many, this practice is a new way of thinking and moving through the world.
Venerable Dhammananda explains, “When you hear of other people’s good news, practice feeling happy for them.”
She encourages others to do the best they can without getting bogged down with the results of their efforts. If we continue to do good work, the results will naturally occur.
According to Venerable, “The good karma you perform is never lost. You will reap the reward at some point.”
Once we realize this, we can relax and soften. We don’t feel compelled to chase after enlightenment. I realized that my desire to go to New York was just that—wanting to chase after and force an enlightening experience, rather than allowing it to naturally grow organically.
*
We can’t experience everything in this one precious human life. We have choices to make, priorities to assign. That’s why mudita is so important and beneficial. Genuinely celebrating the accomplishments, opportunities, and achievements of others helps to add meaning and purpose to our lives, too.
***
Thank you for taking the time to read or listen to this month’s offering. I hope you will seek and cultivate many examples and opportunities for practicing mudita in your own life.
If you haven’t had a chance to visit the current Middle Moon Malas online collection, please take a few minutes to do so before you leave this page. I’ve added several new designs recently. Also, if you are interested in a custom mala or quarter mala, please send me a message via the Contact Us page. I’d be happy to create a mala design that supports and inspires your own practice.
Akshobhya Buddha Sand Mandala: Jangchub Choeling Nuns Bring Peace and Wisdom to Bloomington July 30, 2024 18:39
If you prefer to listen to this month's offering, click HERE for the audio link.
Recently, a group of nuns from the Jangchub Choeling Nunnery in India visited TMBCC in Bloomington. This is their first tour to the U.S. They are raising funds for their nunnery as well as sharing aspects of Tibetan Buddhist culture along the way. They spent five days creating an elaborate Akshobhya Buddha sand mandala in the Kalachakra Hall. Akshobhya, which means unshakeable, is a Buddha whose blessings are associated with wisdom and understanding the true nature of reality.
The nuns started with an opening ceremony and blessing. Then, they carefully created the template for the design using compasses, rulers, and chalk-coated lines of twine.
Over the course of the next few days, they worked quietly, and they worked together, often in silence, each with a demeanor of focused, clear, and steady concentration. They were deliberate, they were mindful, they were measured, they were precise, and, most importantly, they were peaceful.
Prior to their visit, these nuns had trained in India for a full year to learn the skills necessary to create this beautiful sand mandala. This collective effort is a meditation practice in and of itself, and it requires unwavering concentration, focus, and precision.
They created this mandala with superfine, vibrantly colored sand, and they used tapered, tube-like funnels made of copper, called chak-purs, to apply the sand onto the template. They scratched thin metal rods against the ridged sides of these tubes, which created a vibration. This allowed the nuns to control the flow of the sand in a steady and controlled manner. It’s fascinating to watch, and even more soothing to hear. The sounds of the chak-purs remind me of cicadas singing their spiraling summer songs.
We had the opportunity to witness and share a beautiful practice of interconnection and interdependence, not only for the nuns who were creating this design, but for all the visitors who were able to observe the process as well.
Their practice is not performative, and it’s not meant to showcase or show off their artistic talents. There’s no place for ego in this meditative practice. Their intentions are clear, and their motivations are pure.
Day by day, layer by layer, the mandala took shape. Each symbol and color in the design has meaning. The nuns have studied the significance of every aspect of this design, and while creating it, they contemplate and meditate on the meaning throughout the process.
During their stay, I was able to visit the center a few times. One of those times was on a Sunday morning before the weekly Dharma teaching. I made a point to arrive early so I could walk to the Kalachakra Hall and observe them working. It was quiet, and there weren’t many visitors there at the time. The nuns were working steadily, and the cicada-like sounds of their chak-purs echoed softly throughout the building.
They had made significant progress since my last visit a few days before. Layers of bold, vibrant colors had covered most of the board. While they worked, I had time to sit and recite a few rounds of refuge ngondro mantras with my mala: “Nama Sanghaya, Nama Sanghaya, Nama Sanghaya, Nama Sanghaya…”
A mandala is a representation of everything in the universe. As the nuns carefully created their design, they also focused, contemplated, and offered blessings to everything in the universe as well.
Typically, after the mandala is complete, and after the closing ceremony, they scoop the sand into an urn and pour it into a body of water, sending with it all the blessings and messages of peace and compassion into the currents. Dissolving the mandala at the end is a reminder that nothing is permanent—even after all the dedication, study, time, and effort—nothing lasts forever—and clinging to anything is never helpful or fruitful.
Watching the creation of the mandala was a reminder that our intentions matter, that our efforts matter, and that collaborating with others is essential if we want to grow and cultivate peace.
Watching the dissolution of the sand mandala is an exercise in letting go—and allowing. It also underscores the importance of enjoying the creative process, and not clinging to the outcome.
The Jangchub Choeling nuns stayed at TMBCC for ten days. Then, they traveled to their next destination to begin the process again and create another mandala in another city. They will be touring the U.S. until early spring of 2025, and they will continue to spread peace, compassion, and beauty with every colorful grain of sand.
If they come to your town, please take some time to observe this practice for yourself and to support their efforts. You won’t regret it.
Below is the link to their website if you’re interested in sponsoring a nun or donating to their nunnery.
https://www.jangchubchoeling.org/
****
When I taught English full-time, I was a big fan of the Transcendentalists. I enjoyed teaching the works of Ralph Waldo Emerson and Henry David Thoreau.
One of my favorite Thoreau quotes from Walden was, “I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.”
Watching the nuns create this beautiful Akshobhya Buddha sand mandala made me realize that I didn’t need to run away into the woods to cultivate peace, and that living deliberately requires mindfulness, compassion, and sharp focus.
Thoreau lived at Walden Pond for two years, two months, and two days. His retreat was an experiment that led to the creation of a wonderful piece of literature—one that was created in solitude but was shared with the rest of the world.
Everything we have and do depends upon the skills and expertise of others, and we are foolish to think that anything we do is completely independent and isolated from others.
A meaningful life begins with a clear motivation—the intention to make the most of our precious human life—and moment by moment, day by day, we build our lives with all the textures and colors of our choosing—and share the lives we create with others before our own inevitable dissolution.
****
Thank you for taking the time to listen or read this month’s blog offering. I hope the month of July has treated you well, and I hope August has even more blessings waiting for you. Please visit the Middle Moon Malas online collection. Each of these hand-knotted malas is a one-of-a-kind creation designed to inspire and support meaningful practice.
Connecting vs. Centering: Cherishing Others as an Antidote for Self-Absorbed Anxiety June 29, 2024 11:44
If you prefer to listen to this month's blog article, click HERE for the audio link.
During a recent online Dharma talk held at Sravasti Abbey, Ven. Thubten Jigme said, “Afflictions will come. What matters most is how you deal with them.”
I haven’t been feeling well these last few days. I’ve been anxious and restless—mentally scattered, easily distracted, and I’ve had mild bouts of fatigue and dizziness. In short, I’ve been in a funk.
I’ve taken extra care to stay hydrated (it has been exceptionally hot this week), rest, and eat good food. These have helped alleviate my physical symptoms.
For emotional and mental symptoms—I’ve taken time to reflect on the successes of others and to celebrate others, which has also been effective. The good news is, the month of June has offered several opportunities to do just that.
For example, on June 8th, the city of Indianapolis hosted a Pride Parade and Festival in honor of Pride Month. My daughter and I, along with my son-in-law, his siblings, and baby niece attended the parade in downtown Indy.
We gathered on Massachusetts Avenue, along with thousands of others who flanked both sides of the street to celebrate, support, and uplift the LGBTQIA+ community. There’s something very comforting and unifying about being in a diverse, inclusive crowd filled with people who are accepting, compassionate, and kind.
We watched and cheered as several businesses, non-profits, local organizations, and sponsors marched in support and celebration. Participants waved colorful flags, blew bubbles, tossed candy, smiled, and danced their way down Mass. Ave. It was truly a celebration of community members supporting other community members—and a colorful display of interdependence at its best.
A young man stood in front of me during the parade. He wore a bright purple outfit that he had designed himself specifically for this event. I watched as several participants in the parade stopped to compliment and encourage him.
One woman asked, “Are you Prince?”
He replied, “No…I’m me!”
This young man showed up, expressed himself with class and courage, and many others praised, acknowledged, and celebrated him. He was seen, and he was appreciated. That’s what this parade is all about, and I was grateful to witness it.
Being in the company of family and thousands of warm-hearted strangers who felt like family to come together, show support, and celebrate others was extremely hopeful and uplifting.
Just remembering and thinking about this event helped lift me out of my anxious funk.
Photo Description: Young man in purple watching a drag queen in a rainbow dress during Pride Parade in Indianapolis.
***
Another opportunity to celebrate others occurred on Father’s Day.
Elise, Christopher, and I showered Jim with gifts and attention at one of his favorite restaurants, Yummy Bowl, a Mongolian stir-fry and sushi spot in Greenwood.
Elise gave her dad a new baseball cap and dress socks, and I had given him a button-up dress shirt perfect for summer weather. We enjoyed our time, our conversation, and our bowls of noodley stir-fry.
Having time to celebrate with family is a wonderful antidote to hyper-focusing on the self.
Photo Description: Jim at Yummy Bowl on Father's Day
***
A few days after Father’s Day, on June 19th, we celebrated Juneteenth, which commemorates the ending of slavery in the U.S.
This holiday celebrates African American history, culture, and progress. In the days leading up to Juneteenth, I read Percival Everett’s novel James, a retelling of Twain’s Huck Finn from the point of view of Jim.
I had studied Huck Finn in high school with Mrs. Grenda, my favorite English teacher at Warren Central many years ago. I studied it again with a wonderful professor and Twain scholar, Dr. Baetzhold, when I was a student at Butler University.
Honestly, I liked James even better than Huck Finn! Everett incorporated familiar references and plot points early on in his novel, but he also created a fully-fledged and well-developed character through Jim, which is something that Twain did not do.
In this retelling, Jim is a strong, brave, intuitive, resourceful, philosophical, compassionate, and literate character. Reading this novel that focused on friendship and freedom was an excellent way to celebrate this meaningful holiday.
It also gave me time to reflect on and appreciate two amazing educators who inspired and encouraged my own journey in education as well.
Photo Description: Percival Everett's novel James on my lap. Maya is watching from the floor, curious about what I'm reading.
***
Last night, I didn’t sleep well, so when I got up at 4:00 AM, I decided to practice an online Feldenkrais lesson. Deborah Bowes was the instructor, and this particular lesson focused on fine-tuning awareness of the abdominals—and learning about how these muscles are the keys to finding stability, strength, and mobility throughout the rest of the body.
One of the lines that she said during the class was, “Noticing leads to awareness, and awareness leads to change.”
This quote, in a nutshell, not only describes the essence of the Feldenkrais Method, but it also describes the journey of progressing from focusing on the self to focusing on others. Like the abdominals, others are the keys to stability, strength, and mobility in the community, and they also help individuals find those same traits in themselves.
Only focusing on the self is like traveling down a dead-end street. Noticing the futility of this leads to the awareness and appreciation of others—the necessity and importance of connection and interconnection. This awareness transforms and changes the landscape, and it offers support and multiple opportunities for learning and growth. The dead-end street becomes a lush labyrinth of trails that welcomes exploration, curiosity, playfulness, and adventure.
Celebrating others—appreciating others—and connecting with others—these are rich, meaningful, and necessary antidotes to lifting ourselves out of the anxious funk that results from centering solely on the individual self.
***
By the way, another great way to lift yourself out of an anxious or restless funk is to practice mantra recitations with a mala. Currently, the Middle Moon Malas online collection is filled with beautiful malas designed to inspire and support meaningful practice. Please visit the homepage and view the hand-knotted malas that are currently available, and don't hesitate to reach out via the Contact Us page for custom design requests and inquiries.
The Power of the Pause: Letting Go to Move Forward May 30, 2024 12:28
If you prefer to listen to this month's offering, please click HERE for the audio link.
We have lived in our current home for over twenty-five years. When we first moved in, we added a second phone line to have internet service as well as a landline phone. At that time, and because of our location, that was our only option to be connected.
I grew up in the 70s, so having a landline phone was familiar and reliable for me. Over the years, as cell phones became more ubiquitous and essential for everyday tasks, having a landline phone has become obsolete.
We’d hung onto our landline for several years, but the final straw for us came this past winter and spring. It wasn’t unusual for us to have to call a technician at least once a year to replace external wiring that had been chewed by squirrels or mice—or that had become corroded by spring rains.
New houses have been cropping up in our area, and our utility box, which had once been in an abandoned field near railroad tracks, is now an eyesore in some lucky winner’s backyard.
In February, the resident of this new home decided to cut the large wire at the top of our utility box, which resulted in the complete loss of our phone and internet connections. We didn’t have service for a couple of weeks until techs could rig up a temporary solution.
We had relatively stable service for a while—until heavy rains in March did a number on the external wires again.
Over the years, the phone company has changed ownership several times, and each change brought a decline in reliable service as well as creeping increases in service prices.
Honestly, the only phone calls we have been receiving lately have been junk calls from telemarketers, scammers, fraudsters, and opportunists phishing for personal data. It was time—long overdue, actually, for a change and an upgrade.
We already have cable, so we opted to migrate to a cable modem and router and to ditch the landline altogether.
The process took a little time. It began in the Xfinity store lobby while I waited with my husband and son-in-law for over an hour before a young, hip associate helped us upgrade our account and scheduled a technician to come to our home for the installation.
Our son-in-law gave us his modem and router to use, but the tech who came to the house to add the extra line couldn’t connect it. So, I made a trip to Best Buy, and, thankfully, a very helpful and knowledgeable associate helped me select a single modem/router unit.
I went back to the Xfinity store and waited another hour until the manager, who had to contend with an extremely loud and disgruntled customer minutes before me, helped me register this new unit to our account.
I’m not going to lie—this disgruntled customer was over-the-top angry. He was yelling and screaming at the manager, and we all watched and held our breath as he stormed out to his truck and drove away. I was not the only one who wondered if he was going to come back in with a gun. I really thought we were going to be on the evening news.
Thankfully, we all survived, and a few days later, my daughter and son-in-law stopped by to help us set up and connect the modem/router along with a laptop that I had purchased a few weeks prior.
Whew! This whole process of disconnecting from an inefficient, outdated, and unreliable service to connecting to one that is more reliable and convenient required time, patience, and the expertise of others.
I’m so grateful I have my Buddhist practice to rely on. It really comes in handy, even in mundane situations like this. If not, I’d be more like the disgruntled customer ranting and raving in the Xfinity store.
*****
While this technology pause was unsettling; it was also necessary. Honestly, it was the most important part of the journey. It was the quiet gap between old and new, outdated and updated.
This was an important time of reflection and introspection for me. I had more quality time to sit in silence and let go of the usual distractions, obligations, and uncertainties. It was a time of literal and metaphorical clearing away. I deep cleaned several rooms in the house, I let go of other things I didn’t need, and I rediscovered and appreciated the things that I did have. This was an important time to be present and to slow down, and it was the perfect time for an emotional and energetic reset.
Not having access to home internet for those transitional weeks enabled me to practice patience and gratitude.
I thought about all the people who made this access to technology possible—all the minds that had to work together to create and sustain this essential conduit to information. Sometimes interconnection is invisible—but it exists, nonetheless. Interconnection can be very easy to take for granted, too—usually, we realize this when something no longer functions properly. However, realizing and appreciating how much we rely on the skills and knowledge of others is an important practice and habit of mind to develop.
I was grateful to have the ability to write and read emails, to check my bank balance, or to purchase supplies for my business. I wouldn’t be able to do these things without the assistance of thousands of others.
I’m grateful to have the help of my daughter and son-in-law. Not only did they offer encouragement throughout this process, but they also helped me set up my laptop.
I’m grateful to be able to have access to technology anywhere in the house. For years, I worked from a stand-alone computer. I didn’t mind working from my study room, but now that I have a laptop as well, it’s nice to be able to practice a Feldenkrais lesson upstairs or to listen to a Dharma talk in the kitchen while I’m washing dishes. Having agency and choice is incredibly liberating.
Our home is no longer tethered to a landline. Although, I still catch myself glancing at the spot on the kitchen counter where we had kept our main house phone—checking for a blinking red light that signaled messages.
I do miss being able to pick up a line upstairs while Jim picks up a downstairs line so that we can both chat with Elise.
I also miss being able to check the time on the house phone when I have something cooking in the oven.
Even though these are small things that I miss, there are alternative options for all these situations. That’s another bonus for navigating long-overdue changes—exploring options and practicing a flexible mindset.
Releasing the obsolete has been an interesting experiment for me, but it’s also allowed me to practice and appreciate traits that won’t ever go out of style. Additionally, it’s given me yet another reason to protect and develop Bodhicitta, the altruistic mindset of compassion.
I love that opportunities to practice Dharma are everywhere. Even with something as mundane as changing a service provider.
Currently, our landline phones are waiting in a paper bag from Fresh Thyme in the hallway. I plan to take them to a local recycling center where they will serve a new purpose and benefit others in a new way.
***
What have you had to let go of recently?
How did letting go reveal new facets of your everyday life?
What bumps and obstacles did you have to endure or overcome while navigating your own journey?
These could be questions to ponder in your next analytical meditation session.
***
What I love about malas is they are a simple form of technology—they don’t require electricity, contracts, or upgrades. They are powered by our own dedication, intention, and practice.
Please visit the online shop to view the current collection of one-of-a-kind designs. If you are interested in a custom design or a quarter mala, please visit the Contact Us page for requests and inquiries.
I hope the month of May has treated you well. I’m looking forward to seeing what the month of June has in store for us.
Until then--
Teresa
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