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Indiana State Fair 2023: A Celebration of Interdependence August 31, 2023 13:02
If you prefer to listen to this month's blog article, please click HERE for the audio link (11 minute listen).
The Indiana State Fair is an annual, month-long summer event in Indianapolis that includes concerts, livestock, rides, games, an assortment of fried foods, and family fun.
I’m not going to lie, it’s not an event that typically appeals to me. I’m generally not jazzed about tractor pulls, midway rides, and large crowds in the unbearable summer heat and humidity of the Hoosier state.
This year, however, my daughter was working at the Newfields booth during an afternoon shift on the last Friday of this year’s fair schedule, so Jim and I decided to meet her there for dinner after her shift ended and to experience some family fun, first-hand.
Our first (and really only) obstacle was navigating rush hour traffic and finding a parking spot once we arrived. On our way there, a semi nearly missed plowing into our vehicle on I-65. The driver hadn’t been paying attention and didn’t notice that traffic was slowing.
Fortunately, we lived through that close call only to wait in line for 45 minutes as we inched our way toward a parking spot at the far end of the sandy infield of the fairgrounds.
We arrived just in time to see the fair parade, led by the famous Clydesdale horses and Budweiser carriage, followed by a marching band and several tractors pulling hordes of waving sponsors, farmers, and fair princesses with glittery pink sashes.
Elise had wandered into the parade line and met us near the grandstand. We waited in line for ears of fresh buttered sweet corn. Elise enjoyed deep fried Oreos, I chose chocolate-covered cheesecake on a stick, and Jim selected pork riblets with a Lemon Shake-up.
The weather was perfect! It was breezy and slightly cool with very low humidity, which is extremely rare for this time of year.
After “dinner,” we wandered into various livestock buildings and visited sheep, goats, alpacas, horses, and pigs.
We sat in plastic Adirondack chairs and listened to an up-and-coming local band. The band members couldn’t have been any older than the high school students I currently tutor.
We circled around the fairgrounds on a shuttle pulled by a large tractor. The long bench seats allowed for easy access on and off during the various stops.
What does all of this have to do with meditation practice? Well, the old me (the version of myself before I dedicated time to a daily practice) would have been very anxious in a crowd full of strangers, disgusted by the mingled scents of exhaust fumes, fair food, and livestock manure. The old me would have worried about the time, even on a Friday night. Honestly, the old me would have never made it to the fair to begin with—she would have insisted that the near miss with the semi was “a sign from the Universe” to just go on home.
The present me, however, was just that—present.
Jim was a little antsy as we inched our way to the infield parking lot, but I was calm and content. We had the windows rolled down and could hear the sounds of cicadas along with the gleeful shrieks coming from people on the midway rides.
The present me wasn’t worried about being late—or the time at all. I enjoyed spending time with my family and taking in all the sights and sounds without judgment, worry, or fear.
I enjoyed interacting and connecting with the animals in the livestock barns. From patting the bellies of the milk-drunk piglets to stroking the soft noses of the sheep, goats, and horses, connecting with the animals was soothing, and being with my family was comforting.
The present me even found connecting with strangers to be enjoyable. I was relaxed and at ease in the crowd. At one point, as we were walking near the midway, I met eyes with an elderly woman in a wheelchair. I smiled, said, “Hello.” Her eyes were bright and welcoming. I didn’t know her, but I felt connected to her, nonetheless. I felt connected—and interconnected with the thousands of others who were milling all around us, sharing the sights and sounds and space of this beautiful summer night.
The present me appreciated the efforts of all the hearts and hands of all ages, races, and backgrounds who came together to make this event possible: from those directing traffic in the parking lot, those preparing and serving food, those maintaining and monitoring the grounds and rides, those driving the tractor shuttles, those making public announcements, those tending to animals, and, of course, the animals. This evening was a celebration of interdependence.
My practice has changed me for the better, and it’s events like these that most clearly reveal and showcase some of these positive changes:
- Remain open and receptive to new opportunities
- See the familiar with a fresh set of eyes
- Set aside past associations and perceptions
- Remain calm and relaxed—even under pressure
- Release tension after danger has passed
- Prevent unexpected obstacles from spoiling the rest of the evening
- Remain content and patient while waiting
- Enjoy the company of loved ones and strangers
- Feel genuine love, compassion, and joy for others
- Remain focused, alert, and present without expectations
- Cultivate gratitude for others’ skills, gifts, and efforts
This is what daily practice has done for me. Over time, it has enabled me to allow, appreciate, and enjoy this precious human life.
Do I feel this connected all the time? No. However, I do feel like this more frequently than I did a decade ago. My practice has improved the overall quality of my life, and, by proxy, it has improved the lives of others around me.
I’m reflecting on this topic at a time when yet another mass shooting has occurred in our country—this time, in Jacksonville, Florida. The contrast of these two events: an enjoyable evening with my family at the fair, and yet another tragic shooting motivated by hate, ignorance, and racism—is jarring and unsettling.
One of the biggest benefits of my personal practice is that it helps me to navigate this paradox—and it motivates me to continue to practice without being discouraged by the hatred and anger of others. I can’t change other people, and I won’t allow the destructive actions of others to deter and distract me from appreciating moments of connection and presence. Despite others’ choices and actions that intensify suffering and despair, compassion, connection, interdependence, and gratitude—these are the necessary antidotes that a daily practice fosters.
I firmly believe that when enough people cultivate compassion and connection for others, meaningful change can, and will, occur. However, it must begin with individuals before the ripple effects can reach, progress, and improve society.
The Indiana State Fair may have come and gone for this year, but there will be many more opportunities to celebrate and practice interdependence by this time next summer.
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My hope is that this article inspires and supports you and your own practice in some way.
May you be well. May you be happy. And most importantly, may you continue to practice…
While you're here, don't forget to visit the Middle Moon Malas home page to view the current collection of hand-knotted malas and quarter malas.
Estrangement and the Power of Metta September 30, 2021 08:51
If you prefer to listen to this month's blog, please click here.
I wanted to write about small, everyday blessings this month--like the well-fed sparrows outside my dentist's office window, and the sprawling branches of the catalpa tree that, over time, have grown to block the view of heavy traffic on I-465.
It's not unusual for me to start writing about one topic for these blog posts, and then switching gears to something completely different. However, this month's pivot was particularly surprising...and a bit painful.
I happened to catch a segment on this week's CBS Sunday Morning about people who had been estranged from family members. The people who had been interviewed for the story desperately wanted to reconcile, or did, eventually, reconcile with their family members.
I have been estranged from my biological father for nearly thirty years. The separation occurred right after my daughter was born. I don't regret this separation, and I have no desire to reconcile or reconnect with my father. I don't know if he is alive or dead, and, honestly, I don't really care.
My mother passed away a few years ago. After my step-father died, and she moved to Michigan, our contact was sporadic--limited to just a few phone calls a year. She had battled mental illness for much of her life, and as she grew older, her conversations were often rambling, incoherent, and increasingly angry on her part.
I had experienced a great deal of psychological and verbal abuse from her growing up, so when she did eventually pass away, it was a bittersweet relief for me. I could finally release the pain and shame of a difficult relationship, and I was also relieved that she was no longer suffering.
Recently, I have become estranged from my half-sister as well. We grew up together in the same home with our mother and her father (my step-father). I was four years older than she, and we were not very close as kids.
After her father (my step-father) died, she became more distant and angry. Visits and phone calls between us became increasingly more tense and uncomfortable. Finding common ground became more challenging. Eventually, she deactivated her Facebook account, which was a key source of connection for the two of us, and when she reactivated it a short time later, she didn't include me. Honestly, I felt relieved.
She and her family were invited to attend my daughter's wedding recently. They weren't able to attend. Again, I felt relief.
It's not polite to write these things. As a Buddhist, I am supposed to constantly generate bodhicitta (lovingkindness, compassion, and altruism) toward all sentient beings until we're all liberated from suffering. I'm supposed to keep an open heart for everyone.
Obviously, I have a long way to go. I am a flawed human being, and sometimes, the best I can do is to love some people from afar.
I'm also leaving out a lot in this blog post. There are painful and deeply rooted reasons why I choose not to stay in contact with my father. I never felt safe with him, and I didn't like being alone with him when I was a kid. These feelings intensified when my own daughter was born--and the separation felt like a welcome release for me. I felt like I was protecting her.
I choose to believe that my mother did the best that she could. She had suffered severe physical, sexual, and verbal abuse in her own home growing up--she also sustained a severe head trauma in a car accident when she was a teenager.
These events set the stage for her own struggles with addiction, mental illness, and motherhood. She struggled, suffered, and, in many ways, couldn't let go of the people and circumstances that had caused her great pain.
The separation from my sister makes me sad. I still send her emails at Christmas and on her birthday--and she does the same. However, that's about the extent of our communication, and it's very brief and superficial. Our separation was like a slow-moving storm that picked up momentum gradually over the years.
We did not grow up in a healthy, loving home. Our lives and interests were vastly different. In recent years, I found myself holding my tongue and walking on eggshells around her in order to keep the peace--to avoid an argument or her sudden outbursts of condescending rage. Being around her became increasingly stressful and uncomfortable.
I survived my family of origin, and I eventually walked away from them in order to thrive in my own life with my current family. I'm close with my husband and daughter. Being in tune with my own emotions, thoughts, and actions, and choosing to distance myself from the cycle of abuse rather than actively participate in it, or witness it, is my best stab at skillful means right now.
Lashing out, or reacting out of ignorance, anger, and fear only perpetuates cycles of suffering. I'm still working on generating bodhicitta for all living beings, and I haven't given up on keeping an open heart.
I have much to learn, and I have much to purify in my own practice. Perhaps in a future life I will be able to remain peaceful and compassionate while living in the middle of an emotional storm--to deal with anger, cruelty, and abuse--to keep an open, boundless heart without needing to distance myself from the abusive person or situation. One day, I aspire to be able to do this with grace and dignity. I'm not there yet--far from it. The best I can offer for now is to continue to practice, and one practice that is extremely helpful is Metta--or Lovingkindness Meditation.
Metta:
Metta, also called lovingkindness meditation, is the simple practice of directing positive phrases and well-wishes to ourselves and others. Practicing metta can make us feel less isolated and more connected to those around us. It also fosters self-acceptance, and it can alleviate tension, depression, and anxiety.
The good news is, you don't have to be a Buddhist to practice it--it's a secular practice for everyone, and you don't have to practice it seated on a cushion. It can be just as effective in "real world," crowded environments--like waiting in line, sitting in traffic, walking around the neighborhood, etc. If you're using this practice in a crowded setting like a store or while commuting, simply focus your attention on the people immediately around you. Silently direct your chosen phrase or phrases to those who are in line, or in traffic, with you.
For a seated practice, you can specifically choose who to focus on.
So--if you like, we can practice metta together. I invite you to go ahead and find a comfortable seat (you may lie down as well, if you prefer).
1. Begin by taking a few deep breaths to clear your mind. Then, when you're ready, silently direct the following phrases to yourself:
May I be filled with kindness and compassion.
May I be safe from all dangers.
May I be happy and feel at ease.
May I be well in body and mind.
2. Next, visualize loved ones you know and care about deeply. They can be friends, family members, neighbors, or colleagues. As you think about these dear ones, silently direct the following phrases to them:
May you be filled with kindness and compassion.
May you be safe from all dangers.
May you be happy and feel at ease.
May you be well in body and mind.
3. Now shift your focus to those who are strangers to you--these are people who you don't know personally, but you do come into contact with them. You also don't have any strong positive or negative feelings about them--it's more of a neutral association. For example, a UPS driver, a waitress, a clerk at a convenient store, a flight attendant, etc. When you're ready, silently direct the following phrases to these individuals:
May you be filled with kindness and compassion.
May you be safe from all dangers.
May you be happy and feel at ease.
May you be well in body and mind.
4. Now imagine those who do tend to evoke strong negative feelings for you--those who push your buttons and who are challenging, difficult, or annoying to be around. When you're ready, silently direct the following phrases to these people:
May you be filled with kindness and compassion.
May you be safe from all dangers.
May you be happy and feel at ease.
May you be well in body and mind.
5. Finally, silently direct the following phrases toward all beings in the universe:
May you be filled with kindness and compassion.
May you be safe from all dangers.
May you be happy and feel at ease.
May you be well in body and mind.
This practice is a wonderful antidote for feeling disconnected, anxious, or agitated. It's also a practical way to cultivate kindness, compassion, and forgiveness toward ourselves and others.
I may not have written about the sparrows flitting around the catalpa tree outside my dentist's office window this month, but I hope this month's article was helpful for you in some way. Until next month-- let's keep practicing.
I have added a few new mala designs to the online shop. As each design is different, the inventory is frequently updated and changing. Nothing is permanent, after all. Be sure to visit middlemoonmalas.com to view the current online collection.