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’ 100^th 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 100^th 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 40^th 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 10^th 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 10^th 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 8^th, 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 19^th, 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

Tying and Untying Knots: Holding Space and Letting Go during Totality April 21, 2024 18:00

If you prefer to listen to this month's article, please click HERE for the audio link.

In a knotted mala, the knots carry an important significance. On a functional level, they help to protect the beads against cracks, chips, and scratches due to friction from regular use. Because the knots hold just enough space to prevent the beads from touching, they also help to showcase more of the surface area of the individual beads.

If the cord breaks on a knotted mala, it won't result in 108 beads scattering across the floor.

On a symbolic level, the knots represent the obstacles and challenges in life. The challenges allow us to apply what we've learned, and they test our capacity for patience, strength, endurance, and compassion.

The beads represent the blessings and beautiful aspects of life. Consequently, a meaningful life requires a balance of both blessings and challenges.

I like creating knotted malas. Even though they require more time and effort, the knots create a sense of steadiness and stability in the designs. They cradle and hold the beads in place. The knots are subtle--they are smaller in size than the beads themselves, and they offer a sense of quiet strength and protection.

Typically, it takes me two to three days to create a full (108 beads) knotted mala. If I try to overdo it and string too many beads in one sitting, I'll pay for it later. I'll experience numbness in my fingers and hands late at night--or I'll run the risk of splitting my thumbnails. They remind me of the benefits of pacing myself--that less is more. There's no need to rush or hurry the process. Slow down. Be mindful. Be present. Pay close attention.

***

On Monday, April 8th, a large swath of our state was able to view a total solar eclipse. The last time a solar eclipse was visible in what is now Central Indiana, according to a recent Butler University newsletter, was in the year 1205. Indiana didn't even exist at that time.

The next eclipse is scheduled to make an appearance in the Hoosier State in the year 2153. So, it was pretty amazing to have an opportunity to witness a celestial event like this.

What was even more amazing was...the weather. Normally, April in Indiana brings loads of rain, cool temperatures, and gloomy, gray, overcast skies. On April 8th, the skies were clear blue, and it was a pleasantly warm 70 degree day.

Local schools and businesses were closed for this event. Jim and I stayed home. We sat in the front yard on fold-up lawn chairs and kept tabs on the sun and moon while wearing our eclipse glasses.

Jim puttered around doing yardwork leading up to the afternoon event, which gave me time for personal mantra practice. I've been working on refuge ngondro recitations since January, and will continue for most of this year (four refuge prayers--111,111 recitations each). I'm pacing myself and taking my time with this meaningful practice. I sat in the rare, April sunshine and completed twelve mala rounds of "Namo Dharmaya."

I'm glad Jim and I decided to stay home. We could have traveled to big public celebrations in Bloomington, Speedway, and Indianapolis, but I'm glad we opted for a more intimate viewing.

In the months and weeks leading up to this eclipse, I didn't have any expectations or hopes. In fact, I was fully prepared to watch it on NASA's website if the weather was rainy or cloudy.

I finished my recitations, and Jim joined me in the front yard. We listened to tunes on WTTS on a portable radio as the moon slowly slid in front of the sun : "Black Hole Sun," "Dancing in the Moonlight," "Here Comes the Sun," "Blinded by the Light"...

At around 3:00 in the afternoon, we were able to witness Totality. I turned off the radio at this point so we could take it all in. 

The air took on a dark blue, metallic hue and cooled by about ten degrees. Houses in the distance appeared hazy and blurry.

Peeper frogs started to chirp in our ravine, and a nearby barred owl hooted intermittently.

As I gazed up at the eclipse in Totality, I felt extremely heavy, as if I were being pushed into the earth.

Two images crossed my mind during these fleeting minutes. One was an image of a race car crashing into a wall after navigating a sharp turn. It was not a spectacular crash, the kind where the impact is dispersed outwardly, often protecting the driver. It was the "un-spectacular," no-big-deal kind, which is often deadly for the driver, who absorbs the impact of the crash.

The second image was actually a memory. I remembered being very pregnant and walking down the hall of the high school where I taught at that time. It was during a passing period, and students were milling all around me as I was walking back to my classroom. I remembered feeling a sudden, sharp, stabbing pain in my groin, and all I could do was stop, put my hand against the wall for stability, and breathe until the pain subsided.

I did not experience physical pain during Totality, but these images were intense and brought a strong sense of weighted heaviness to my body and mind.

I felt the energetic "impact" in my body--and all I could do was to allow--to hold space--and to accept and receive these images and feelings on each inhalation. Then, with each exhale, send all of that heaviness into the earth to be transformed.

It was an odd sensation, but for three minutes, I was firmly rooted to my chair, completely fixated and sensing the full impact of this once-in-a-lifetime event. I don't know that I would have experienced this if I had been in a large, public setting.

I felt like an energetic conduit, and all I could do in this odd dance of give and receive was breathe--inhaling the full weight of the sun and the moon--and exhaling into the earth. 

Just before Totality ended, and the moon continued to move across the path of the sun, it occurred to me that this experience was like a giant knot in a celestial-sized mala. It simultaneously separated and joined the sun and moon for a brief time--holding them together like a knot separating two beads on a sutra.

The path of this eclipse (which spanned the width of 108 miles, by the way) stretched from Mexico to Maine. This eclipse crossed the continent like a big, beautiful mala-in-progress, and I'm grateful that we were able to witness it.

***

The knots represent the obstacles, the challenges in life. I'm not sure why I imagined a car crash and remembered a specific pregnancy pain. Perhaps these were simply symbolic images--examples of obstacles.

The knots hold the beads of a mala in place, and they showcase the beautiful aspects of life.

Afterwards, the temperature slowly increased. the heavy, dark blue, metallic sky returned to a sunny clear blue. 

The peeper frogs went silent, and we didn't hear the owl until later on in the evening.

Everything seemed to return to normal. I stepped inside the house and took a nap. I needed a little time to process what I'd experienced. When I woke up, I went to my workspace downstairs and started working on stringing a knotted mala.

***

April has been a bit tumultuous, but I hope you are navigating the blessings and challenges of your own life with grace and compassion.

If you haven't visited the MMM home page in a while, I've added a few additional designs to the current collection. As always, feel free to reach out on the Contact Us page if you're interested in a custom design to inspire and support your own personal meditation practice.

Take care--

T

Wise Selfish and the People Pleasing Trap: How Speaking Up and Saying "No" Can Be Acts of Compassion April 20, 2024 13:26

 If you prefer to listen to this post, please click HERE for the audio link.

I recently read a quotation that a friend had posted on her FB page that stopped me in my tracks. I read it over and over. I took time to contemplate it. It resonated for me--and it was exactly what I needed at that time.

"Emotional availability is being present to your feelings and needs and being willing to share them, and allowing the other person to have their own feelings and responses to your needs.

 If you prefer to listen to this month’s offering, please click HERE for the audio link.

“The stupid way to be selfish is seeking happiness for ourselves alone. The intelligent way to be selfish is to work for the welfare of others.” His Holiness the 14^th Dalai Lama

Sometimes, saying “No” is an act of compassion and wise selfishness. Women, in particular, tend to have trouble with this—we often feel pressured to take on more than we can handle in order to appease, please, and help others.

However, not standing up for ourselves and saying “No” when the situation may be too demanding or inappropriate can be detrimental to our emotional and physical well-being.

I am not a fan of suppressing, masking, or ignoring emotions. I am also not a fan of indulging, lashing out, and bombarding others with them either. Keeping feelings bottled up without acknowledging or processing them usually leads to bigger problems for me later on. Whether it’s because of a single major trauma or an accumulation of several small issues over time, my body will let me know if I’m not paying close enough attention to my emotional well-being.

For example, over the years, I have dealt with the physical consequences of frozen shoulder syndrome, Bell’s palsy, and shingles as either the direct or indirect results of not dealing with my emotions effectively.

According to HHDL, “There is nothing inherently wrong with pursuing one’s own interests. On the contrary, to do so is a natural expression of our fundamental disposition to seek happiness and to shun suffering. In fact, it is because we care for our own needs that we have the natural capacity to appreciate others’ kindness and love.”

One recent, and very mild, example that comes to mind happened recently after a Dharma teaching at TMBCC.  A kind-hearted and devoted sangha member stopped me after the teaching to introduce me to a visitor who was new to the Center.

We exchanged greetings, and he told me that he recently graduated from IU and wanted to attend a Dharma talk. My kind-hearted friend then said, “Teresa is great! She will give you her number, and you can text her if you have any questions.”

Keep in mind, this man was a complete stranger to me. As she was saying this to him, I looked this man in the eye while shaking my head and said, “No…I will not be doing that. I will not be giving you my number. You will not be texting me. I don’t know you, and you don’t know me. If you have any questions while you’re here, please feel free to ask. I'll be happy to help if I can.”

He nodded his head in agreement the entire time I was talking as if to say, “I get it. It’s OK. No worries!”

Now, this response may seem logical and normal, but, believe it or not, it required time, processing, courage, and work on my part to respond in this way, mainly because this was not the first time that this kind-hearted sangha member had said this sort of thing to new visitors.

“Being foolish selfish means pursuing our own interests in a narrow, short-sighted way. Being wise selfish means taking a broader view and recognizing that our long-term individual interests lie in the welfare of everyone.”  HHDL

On a few previous occasions, this same kind-hearted friend had escorted strangers over to me who happened to live in Greenwood, a town which has a population of 65,000 and is an hour’s drive from Bloomington, and had told them that we could ride share, and that I would drive them to the Center. Then, she’d walk away immediately, leaving me to have an awkward conversation with people who I didn’t know.

I’m not going to lie; these rare, unexpected exchanges were extremely anxiety-producing for me. Each time, I felt pressured to do something that I did not feel safe or comfortable doing. (I’ve seen far too many Dateline episodes to know better than to drive strangers around in my car by myself.) In addition, these brief exchanges made me feel resentful and frustrated toward my Dharma friend.

During these previous incidents, I didn’t have time to react or feel anything. I was caught off guard—confused and blind-sided—and I didn’t have the wherewithal to speak up and set a healthy boundary.

In fact, somewhere out there, there is a woman who actually has my cellphone number. My kind-hearted Dharma friend had pressured me into giving it to her, and for weeks, I worried that she would text me and ask me to pick her up to take her to Bloomington. For all I know, she may have wondered if that strange lady she met at TMBCC was expecting her to reach out for a ride to B-town. This may have caused anxiety for both of us.

I can’t speak for anyone else—in fact, that was the root of this problem—someone had overstepped and had spoken for me without my permission or consent, and it took me a while to process the feelings I had about this.

I felt frustrated, not only at my kind-hearted Dharma friend for putting me in this awkward position, but also at myself for not speaking up right then and there.

“Being wise selfish means being compassionate…Compassion and discernment are mutually reinforcing.”  HHDL

Actually, it took some time for me to process these feelings, and processing for me means talking to myself in the car (so, if you happen to see me driving and I’m talking to myself, you’ll know what’s happening😉) or writing about it.

Once I take the time to contemplate, talk, or write about these feelings that surface, I’m able to settle down, think clearly, and then calmly respond to future situations more effectively.

This takes me back to something one of my graduate school professors said years ago, “Feelings aren’t good or bad; they just are.” Or, stated another way, “You have to feel the feelings before you can heal the feelings.” Taking the time to process feelings helps me to do just that!

“Where we DO have control is at the level of motivation in deploying our critical, intelligent faculties—our discernment.”  HHDL

Because this kind of situation had happened before, on at least two previous occasions, and because I had taken the time to acknowledge and process the feelings that had surfaced, this time, I was able to say “No” with conviction and confidence to this most recent visitor, and, in the presence of my kind-hearted Dharma friend. In effect, I was demonstrating discernment, I was setting a healthy boundary, and I was practicing wise selfishness (compassion).

By the way, my kind-hearted friend did reach out to me later that day via text and apologized for her impulsiveness. I accepted her apology, and all is well.

Suppressing feelings—ignoring them—masking them—pushing them down—all of these are just asking for trouble, if you ask me. I certainly don’t need another shingles outbreak or some weird, neurological episode to remind me of the importance of naming, claiming, and effectively dealing with my emotions.

Over the years, I’ve heard several Dharma teachers explain the importance of contemplating, investigating, and analyzing the teachings before accepting them as the truth. It’s essential to take time to digest and understand them before meditating on them.  

Well, this applies to experiences in everyday life as well—especially for those unexpected situations when I don’t have time to think about how I feel until later.

I love my kind-hearted Dharma friend. She means well, even though she sometimes oversteps.

I love going to TMBCC for weekly Dharma talks, and I enjoy meeting the visitors who come for teachings, too.

I especially love being able to apply what I learn both on and off the cushion.

Taking the time to process what I learn and what I feel helps me to hone my capacity for critical thinking, discernment, and compassion.

***

I hope the month of March has treated you well, and I hope April treats you even better.

Please check out the current Middle Moon Malas collection, and don’t hesitate to reach out if you have custom design requests or if you need to have a mala restrung.

Quotes from HHDL came from the book Beyond Religion.

Photo Credit: Andrys from Pixabay 

Peaks and Valleys of Practice: The Flexibility of Familiarity February 26, 2024 18:35

 If you prefer to listen to this month's offering, please click HERE for the audio link. 

It’s Saturday afternoon, and I’m sitting at a small café table in Barnes and Noble with my daughter. I ordered a cinnamon tea; she ordered a chai latté and we’re splitting an oatmeal raisin cookie. In the background, we can hear the intermittent hiss of the cappuccino machine and the low murmuring of voices at surrounding tables. It’s nice to have time to visit and chat with her. It reminds me of the many hours we enjoyed at Borders years ago—she’d read or work on homework, and I’d grade papers.

February has brought with it many peaks and valleys. Time spent with Elise in a local bookstore is definitely a peak.

Earlier this month, I celebrated Losar, the Tibetan Lunar New Year, with Dharma friends in Bloomington. We celebrated with a purifying smoke puja under freshly hung prayer flags behind the temple. Then, we gathered inside the temple for long life prayers, tea, and sweet rice. Afterwards, we ate lunch in the cultural building and had time to chat with friends.

 I enjoyed watching the Tibetan dances, and I especially enjoyed seeing all the little ones in their brocaded chupas and traditional dress. It truly was a wonderful day of celebration and meaningful connection. I didn’t know many of the people who attended; some came from out of state just for this celebration. It didn’t matter—it felt like we were among family members throughout the day. Our love of Tibetan culture and Dharma practice brought us all together. This celebration was definitely a highlight as well.

  I am very grateful for having a daily Dharma practice. One of the benefits is that it helps me feel connected to others, even those I’ve never met before, in a meaningful, authentic way. A daily practice definitely helps me appreciate these sweet moments of celebration with others.

However, and probably more importantly, my practice helps me to navigate frustrating times, too. This past week, we had to arrange for our cat, Zora, to have dental surgery. She’s an older kitty, and she takes two different medications to manage seizures and a wonky thyroid. I worry about how she’ll do under anesthesia, as well as her follow-up recovery.

In addition to her health concerns, we had someone randomly cut our phone and internet line. There are several construction projects happening in our area, and our line was cut, which interrupted our phone and internet service for a day or so.

Last Wednesday evening, I was navigating my way through an online chat with a Brightspeed robot on my cell phone to arrange for a technician to come out and trouble shoot our outage. I was also in the process of making dinner. While I was chopping onions, boiling water for pasta, and chatting with a robot, the vet calls on Jim’s cell phone, which he left on the kitchen table while he was outside shooting his bow for archery practice.

So, I’m in the middle of trying to do three important things at the same time. Needless to say, I was a bit flustered and rattled, but I managed to stay relatively calm. I didn’t burn dinner, I was eventually able to schedule and confirm a tech visit, and the vet patiently repeated her instructions so that I could clearly process what she was saying.

Afterwards, when things settled down, I looked forward to my practice. During stressful and chaotic times, it helps me to stay calm and steady. The familiarity of the practice is soothing and comforting, and it helps me to focus on something positive.

Later in the week, during the Sunday Dharma teaching in Bloomington, Minyak Rinpoche said something that really resonated with me. He said, “Everything depends upon the flexibility of familiarity.”

In other words, having a daily practice to rely on helps foster a flexible mindset. I have definitely found that a daily practice helps me to navigate unexpected pivots and surprises. It offers a steady foundation in the face of constant change.

I’ve also noticed that it’s during stressful times when I realize how well my practice is actually serving me (and others). It’s also during these chaotic times that I learn how effectively, and mindfully my practice has been. Stressful times also reveal where my weak spots are—and in what areas I still need to grow.

Am I just saying the words and going through the motions of the practice? Or, am I taking enough time to contemplate and analyze the meaning of what I’m reading or saying? Most importantly, am I applying what I’m practicing to my everyday life?

If I can remain calm during challenging times, and in the aftermath of challenging times, I know I’m on the right path. If I get agitated and flustered, I know I have work to do.

Last night, I spent over an hour in the kitchen tending to Zora—encouraging her to eat her food. It’s a slow process. She takes a few bites, then walks away. She comes back around to take another bite, then walks away again. If I walk away, she won’t eat at all, but if I stay in the kitchen, she’ll keep returning.

We have to keep a close eye on Maya, our Yorkie, who is more than happy to eat her food, and doesn’t care that it’s laced with medications that she does not need.

During this hour, I wasn’t stressed. I was present, patient, and calm. I made dinner. I washed dishes. I listened to the news. In between, I pushed her food into a small pile on her plate to entice her to continue eating. This pile slowly dwindled over the course of the hour.

Afterwards, when she finally finished her food, I felt emotionally drained, stressed, and scared. My anxieties about her upcoming surgery resurfaced. I wound up snapping at Jim and stomped upstairs to stress-vacuum the floor.

This is how I know I need to continue to practice—and that I need to continue to fine-tune my practice. I’m currently able to stay fairly steady and calm in the middle of the chaos, but not after the chaos has passed.

Moments like these make me realize how important it is to take quality time--

to sit on my cushion and meditate,

to mindfully recite mantra,

to read Dharma texts or listen to Dharma talks,

 and to engage is some kind of purification practice

EVERY DAY!!!!

Moments like these help me recognize the progress I’ve already made, and I have made slow, steady progress, much like Zora returning to her dwindling plate of food in the kitchen. These moments help me to appreciate how much I’ve changed for the better, and they also motivate and encourage me to continue to keep practicing in order to move forward on the path.

I hope that you are navigating all of the peaks and valleys of your life with skill, grace, courage, and patience. If a beautiful, hand-knotted mala would enhance and inspire your practice, please visit the MMM online shop. Send me a message via the Contact Us page if you are interested in a custom design. I’d be happy to create a beautiful mala or quarter mala design that’s just right for you and your practice.