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Grief, Grace, Grit, and Gratitude: A Thanksgiving Reflection November 30, 2024 14:08
If you prefer to listen to this month's offering, please click HERE for the audio link.
GRIEF:
I don’t know about you, but the month of November has been a roller coaster for me. I’ve been dipping, diving, climbing, and spiraling through all the emotions this month.
The results of the recent election were devastating and heartbreaking for me. I was really hoping and hopeful for a different result—both for my state and country—but neither panned out. I am really terrified for my students and for the future of this country. We have made a horrible mistake, and we are heading in the wrong direction. There is so much more that I could say about this, but I’m going to leave it at that for now.
As a result, this devastating loss has brought raw emotions to the surface for me, and I find myself reacting much more strongly to other, unrelated situations.
For example, when I heard about the passing of 399, the famous mama Grizzly bear that Thomas Mangelsen has been following and photographing for nearly twenty years, I broke down and sobbed.
I have been grieving her loss for weeks now. Several months ago, I watched the PBS Nature documentary, 399: Queen of the Tetons. It was a beautiful film that chronicled the story of 399 and the work of Thomas Mangelsen.
Unfortunately, 399 was struck and killed by a vehicle in late October. I hope her most recent cub, Spirit, continues to thrive so that her legacy may live on.
One of the producers of the film, Elizabeth Leiter, said of 399: “She’s the wildest woman I’ve ever met.” 399 is the oldest known mother Grizzly in the Yellowstone and Grand Teton ecosystem. She was twenty-eight years old when she died; most Grizzlies only live between twenty to twenty-five years, and she has given birth to eighteen cubs, which is remarkable. 399 is the first resident bear of the Jackson Valley region in forty years, and her presence has helped to reoccupy and recover the Grizzly population, which is also significant.
399 represents strength, resilience, protection, and independence. An inspiration to us all and an ambassador of the wild world, she will certainly be missed. The death of this beautiful matriarch is a major loss, indeed.
(This is not a photo of 399. It is a photo of a grizzly courtesy of Unsplash. Please visit Thomas Mangelsen's website for beautiful photos of 399 and her cubs)
GRACE:
Last weekend, my daughter invited me to attend the 100th Anniversary Celebration of the Sigma Alpha Iota Indianapolis Alumnae Chapter. She joined this international musical fraternity when she attended ISU.
It was a lovely event held at an Episcopal church on the east side of Indianapolis. As part of the celebration, several members performed musical pieces during this event. A young soprano named Anna began with a beautiful Puccini aria: “O Mio Babbino Caro.”
The acoustics in this church were fantastic, and I did all I could do to hold in an ugly cry while she was singing. Her performance was so moving, but I could not stop the tears from streaming down my face.
Anna sang several pieces and was followed by a professional bassoonist who played a series of movements named after gemstones: “Smoky Quartz,” “Lapis Lazuli,” and “Tiger’s Eye.” Her performance was followed by an extraordinarily talented pianist.
All of these performances were moving and amazing!
Afterwards, we gathered in the lobby of the church to chat and enjoy cake and charcuterie. Elise introduced me to several members of SAI. Everyone was so warm and friendly.
At one point, I chatted with a woman who happened to know my music teacher from junior high school. In the late 1970s, they had traveled to Europe together with a group of musicians who toured and performed in various cities in Germany, Austria, and Switzerland.
I remember my teacher, Miss Engel, talking about this trip, and it inspired the theme of our spring concert that year. We performed selections from The Sound of Music, and she projected slides from her travels during the concert.
Music has a wonderful way of bringing people together, and even though I was not a member of SAI, these women made me feel welcome.
Various scrapbooks and photos were displayed on a table along one wall. After glancing through the photos and article clippings and spending time with these wonderful ladies, it was very clear to me that all of the members who had participated over the years in this fraternity—all of those who had come before over the past century—they were right here with these present members now at this celebration.
I was honored to be a guest and to have a seat at the table with these very talented and warm-hearted women.
GRIT
One of the most important things that has helped me navigate the emotional loop-de-loops of this month is my personal meditation practice.
Daily practice has helped me remain rooted and grounded in the present moment.
I appreciate the online Dharma group associated with Sravasti Abbey that meets every morning, and I’m looking forward to the upcoming Retreat from Afar that will begin in January. If you’re interested in this, feel free to check out the Sravasti Abbey website for more information.
I also appreciate my personal Sadhana and recitation practices that I make time for every day as well as the Sunday Dharma talks in Bloomington.
Diving deeply into daily practice keeps me steady and stable in the now—it keeps the fears and anxieties at bay, and it helps me to take care of myself—to renew, to regulate, and to regenerate so that I can be of benefit to others.
GRATITUDE
Despite all the chaos and disappointments that this month has brought, I was grateful to celebrate Thanksgiving with family.
Jim is recovering from a really bad cold, and I’m glad that he’s finally feeling better. Elise and Christopher had another family gathering to attend in the afternoon, so we decided to host a Thanksgiving breakfast this year.
I had made corn muffins, cranberry sauce, and a savory Native American salad the night before. Elise and Christopher brought sweet rolls, Jim cooked bacon and sausage, and I made a quiche on Thanksgiving morning.
It was so nice to start the day with family and a delicious meal.
Taking time to reflect on what’s going smoothly—and who makes you happy is an important practice, too. It’s just as important as reciting mantra and counting beads on a mala.
Acknowledging blessings and the people you hold dear help us to navigate through the difficult times.
The beads on a mala represent the beautiful aspects of life—a safe home, caring loved ones, delicious food.
The knots represent the obstacles and challenges—worries, fears, and loss.
However, a meaningful life includes a balance of BOTH—and accepting everything that comes our way, navigating the ups and downs with an open mind and compassionate heart, allowing us to cultivate wisdom and appreciating the everyday joys that surround us.
I’m also extremely grateful for all of you who take the time to read or listen to these monthly musings.
I hope you are happy and well, and I hope your practice is helping you to navigate the obstacles and to appreciate the joys of your own lives.
Blessings to all of you!
Be sure to check out the MMM website. I have added a few additional designs, and plan to add even more in the coming weeks. Also, I don’t typically add quarter malas to the online shop, but if you’re interested in a design that I’ve posted on IG or FB, please don’t hesitate to reach out. I am happy to create custom designs (quarter malas or full malas) as well.
Connecting vs. Centering: Cherishing Others as an Antidote for Self-Absorbed Anxiety June 29, 2024 11:44
If you prefer to listen to this month's blog article, click HERE for the audio link.
During a recent online Dharma talk held at Sravasti Abbey, Ven. Thubten Jigme said, “Afflictions will come. What matters most is how you deal with them.”
I haven’t been feeling well these last few days. I’ve been anxious and restless—mentally scattered, easily distracted, and I’ve had mild bouts of fatigue and dizziness. In short, I’ve been in a funk.
I’ve taken extra care to stay hydrated (it has been exceptionally hot this week), rest, and eat good food. These have helped alleviate my physical symptoms.
For emotional and mental symptoms—I’ve taken time to reflect on the successes of others and to celebrate others, which has also been effective. The good news is, the month of June has offered several opportunities to do just that.
For example, on June 8th, the city of Indianapolis hosted a Pride Parade and Festival in honor of Pride Month. My daughter and I, along with my son-in-law, his siblings, and baby niece attended the parade in downtown Indy.
We gathered on Massachusetts Avenue, along with thousands of others who flanked both sides of the street to celebrate, support, and uplift the LGBTQIA+ community. There’s something very comforting and unifying about being in a diverse, inclusive crowd filled with people who are accepting, compassionate, and kind.
We watched and cheered as several businesses, non-profits, local organizations, and sponsors marched in support and celebration. Participants waved colorful flags, blew bubbles, tossed candy, smiled, and danced their way down Mass. Ave. It was truly a celebration of community members supporting other community members—and a colorful display of interdependence at its best.
A young man stood in front of me during the parade. He wore a bright purple outfit that he had designed himself specifically for this event. I watched as several participants in the parade stopped to compliment and encourage him.
One woman asked, “Are you Prince?”
He replied, “No…I’m me!”
This young man showed up, expressed himself with class and courage, and many others praised, acknowledged, and celebrated him. He was seen, and he was appreciated. That’s what this parade is all about, and I was grateful to witness it.
Being in the company of family and thousands of warm-hearted strangers who felt like family to come together, show support, and celebrate others was extremely hopeful and uplifting.
Just remembering and thinking about this event helped lift me out of my anxious funk.
Photo Description: Young man in purple watching a drag queen in a rainbow dress during Pride Parade in Indianapolis.
***
Another opportunity to celebrate others occurred on Father’s Day.
Elise, Christopher, and I showered Jim with gifts and attention at one of his favorite restaurants, Yummy Bowl, a Mongolian stir-fry and sushi spot in Greenwood.
Elise gave her dad a new baseball cap and dress socks, and I had given him a button-up dress shirt perfect for summer weather. We enjoyed our time, our conversation, and our bowls of noodley stir-fry.
Having time to celebrate with family is a wonderful antidote to hyper-focusing on the self.
Photo Description: Jim at Yummy Bowl on Father's Day
***
A few days after Father’s Day, on June 19th, we celebrated Juneteenth, which commemorates the ending of slavery in the U.S.
This holiday celebrates African American history, culture, and progress. In the days leading up to Juneteenth, I read Percival Everett’s novel James, a retelling of Twain’s Huck Finn from the point of view of Jim.
I had studied Huck Finn in high school with Mrs. Grenda, my favorite English teacher at Warren Central many years ago. I studied it again with a wonderful professor and Twain scholar, Dr. Baetzhold, when I was a student at Butler University.
Honestly, I liked James even better than Huck Finn! Everett incorporated familiar references and plot points early on in his novel, but he also created a fully-fledged and well-developed character through Jim, which is something that Twain did not do.
In this retelling, Jim is a strong, brave, intuitive, resourceful, philosophical, compassionate, and literate character. Reading this novel that focused on friendship and freedom was an excellent way to celebrate this meaningful holiday.
It also gave me time to reflect on and appreciate two amazing educators who inspired and encouraged my own journey in education as well.
Photo Description: Percival Everett's novel James on my lap. Maya is watching from the floor, curious about what I'm reading.
***
Last night, I didn’t sleep well, so when I got up at 4:00 AM, I decided to practice an online Feldenkrais lesson. Deborah Bowes was the instructor, and this particular lesson focused on fine-tuning awareness of the abdominals—and learning about how these muscles are the keys to finding stability, strength, and mobility throughout the rest of the body.
One of the lines that she said during the class was, “Noticing leads to awareness, and awareness leads to change.”
This quote, in a nutshell, not only describes the essence of the Feldenkrais Method, but it also describes the journey of progressing from focusing on the self to focusing on others. Like the abdominals, others are the keys to stability, strength, and mobility in the community, and they also help individuals find those same traits in themselves.
Only focusing on the self is like traveling down a dead-end street. Noticing the futility of this leads to the awareness and appreciation of others—the necessity and importance of connection and interconnection. This awareness transforms and changes the landscape, and it offers support and multiple opportunities for learning and growth. The dead-end street becomes a lush labyrinth of trails that welcomes exploration, curiosity, playfulness, and adventure.
Celebrating others—appreciating others—and connecting with others—these are rich, meaningful, and necessary antidotes to lifting ourselves out of the anxious funk that results from centering solely on the individual self.
***
By the way, another great way to lift yourself out of an anxious or restless funk is to practice mantra recitations with a mala. Currently, the Middle Moon Malas online collection is filled with beautiful malas designed to inspire and support meaningful practice. Please visit the homepage and view the hand-knotted malas that are currently available, and don't hesitate to reach out via the Contact Us page for custom design requests and inquiries.
Groundwork: Inviting the Shadow to Tea December 30, 2023 13:21
If you prefer to listen to this month's offering, please click HERE for the audio link.
I’m currently reading a book by Rob Preece. He’s a Tibetan Buddhist as well as a therapist (with Jungian leanings). Preparing for Tantra focuses on Buddhist preliminary practices, but he frames them through the lens of a Western perspective. I’m enjoying his book very much, and it is helping me prepare for Sravasti Abbey’s Retreat from Afar starting in January.
One of the major points that Preece emphasizes in this book is the importance of shadow work. He defines the term Shadow as “aspects of human nature that are repressed and held in the unconscious.” According to Preece, acknowledging and integrating the Shadow can be synonymous with groundwork.
In Buddhism, groundwork, or preliminary practices, can be connected to (but not limited to) mantra recitations, prostrations, and water bowl offerings. These rituals prepare the body, speech, and mind for more advanced meditation practices and study.
However, this idea of connecting groundwork to facing one’s Shadow fascinates me. For years, I would joke that I must have gotten turned around and lost in the Bardo and wound up with the wrong family in this lifetime. After reading this book, I no longer believe that.
Shadow memories and dark times have been bubbling to the surface for me recently, which is not unusual given the time of year. Winter is often the season for reflection for many people.
I wasn’t a practicing Buddhist as a kid, but I did grow up with challenging circumstances. I grew up in a home with a severely mentally ill parent. My mother had been diagnosed with many labels and had been prescribed many more combinations of psychiatric meds over the course of her adult life, but through the changing diagnoses and medications, she consistently remained incredibly unmotivated and self-absorbed. She often used her illness as an excuse to not do anything or go anywhere. She also milked it for all it was worth to manipulate family members and to garner constant favors and requests. My stepdad was frequently going to the store for her after coming home from work because she was “too sick” to go herself—and she never went with him.
We all walked on eggshells around her. Her depression took the entire family hostage, and each of us handled the fallout in different ways.
My stepdad escaped through work; he worked long hours and took several business trips to Mexico and Japan during this time period. My sister and I both took refuge in music; she played the piano, and I played the violin, but we didn’t play together. I also loved to read and enjoyed escaping to the safety of novels and biographies.
Unfortunately, my mother’s illness didn’t bring us together. Instead, it forced us apart. It also didn’t help that I was the odd duck in the family. I was the oldest, and a child from my mother’s previous marriage, so I never felt like I fit into this new family unit (not fitting in is a big part of my Shadow work).
I was bullied at home. My stepdad was extremely demanding and critical with me, and he could be quite condescending and emotionally cruel, especially when no one was around to witness his cruelty.
My sister and I were four years apart in age. Consequently, we attended different schools and had different circles of friends. When we were together, we often argued. She was my stepdad’s biological child (and darling), and he treated her differently—he was much kinder and more patient with her than he was with me.
Both of my parents were emotionally unavailable for me at this time, and I desperately needed loving, compassionate guidance. Unfortunately, I was often left to fend for myself—and honestly—I was a weird kid—awkward, shy, socially clumsy, and hopelessly insecure.
During this time, when I was attending junior high school, we lived in an apartment complex. Unfortunately, I wasn’t just bullied at home—I was also bullied at school, too, mainly at the bus stop and on the bus.
I loved school—it was my safe space—but I hated the ride there and back.
Every morning, I carried my books and violin to the bus stop at the front of the apartment complex. It was a large shelter framed with dark wooden fencing on three sides and a roof, and it was always packed with kids from the complex. Several kids smoked cigarettes in the crowded shelter, and there were some “stoners” who smoked marijuana. I had enough craziness going on in my life; I didn’t need that, so I waited for the bus by the main road, away from the shelter.
I stood outside, rain or shine, by myself. Several kids hooted and jeered at me every morning when I walked by. Some even made animal noises at me. I ignored them, but it was HARD! On the outside, I may have appeared unfazed by their daily taunts, which carried over on the bus ride to and from school—every day—for three years. On the inside, however, I was a mess—a hollow, confused, traumatized mess.
I stood up (and out) by staying quiet, minding my own business, and enduring the daily barrage of ridiculous taunts.
I didn’t know it at the time, but upon reflection, this was my groundwork. This was a significant preliminary practice for me. I was not in a good place physically or emotionally during these junior high years. I did not feel safe, and I was not understood, adequately cared for, or appreciated. These were very hard times—for me and for my family.
Fortunately, things improved when I attended high school (and we moved out of the apartment complex). I got a job at a nearby Dairy Queen, not far from our new house. Between work and school, I didn’t have much time to spend at home, so the bullying subsided there, too.
****
These painful experiences helped me tremendously and led me to discover Buddhism. They helped me develop empathy and compassion for others, especially after I graduated from college and started my teaching career.
I knew what it felt like to be excluded, so I went out of my way to ensure that my students’ voices were heard and acknowledged. I never taught a class without including journal writings. It was a great way for them to practice their writing skills, and to express their thoughts and feelings.
Groundwork is the foundation from which everything else grows. It is dark soil, rich with rocky potential that requires hard work, patience, and dedication.
When I think about these early years, I realize how far I’ve come and how much I’ve grown, despite how much I suffered. I was traveling on the path before I even knew the path existed.
These dark, awkward times motivated me to continue to read, study, and learn. They taught me the importance of kindness, generosity, empathy, compassion, and joy. They inspired me to embrace connection and understand the importance of interdependence.
This groundwork encouraged me not only to keep going, despite the hardship and loneliness, but it also encouraged me to surround myself with others who were ethical, supportive, and kind.
This groundwork encouraged me to be observant and mindful—to set healthy boundaries—and to communicate clearly about what is OK and what is not.
My life is far from perfect. I continue to falter and make ridiculously stupid mistakes. The good news is, I have a loving family, I feel safe in my home, I have supportive, warm-hearted friends, and I have a meaningful Dharma practice to rely on daily.
I enjoy reading books like Rob Preece’s, I enjoy listening to and attending Dharma talks, I enjoy making time to meditate, recite mantra, make offerings, and do prostrations.
Remembering the dark times helps me to appreciate all that I have now. Those junior high days seem like many lifetimes ago, but I wouldn’t be who I am now if I hadn’t endured those challenges and struggles.
I have invited my Shadow to tea with this blog post, and I realize now that I did not get turned around in the Bardo and wind up in the wrong family. I ended up exactly where I was supposed to be, and I worked hard to cultivate a meaningful life for myself and others. I continue to do that work even now.
We are all works in progress, we all suffer in samsara, and we are all on the path helping each other learn, grow, and thrive, whether we realize it or not.
I hope 2024 treats you well. May you continue to learn, grow, practice, and thrive in the coming New Year. Please visit the current Middle Moon Malas online collection of hand-knotted malas. May they support and inspire your own personal practice. Know that you are always welcome to reach out via the Contact Us page for custom design requests as well.
Thanks for taking the time to read or listen to this month’s offering. Happy New Year!
Warmly,
Teresa
.Photo Credit: Luca N from Unsplash
Suffering and Happiness: A Tangled Interconnection May 29, 2023 08:57
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: Facebook
Finding Resonance with Your Practice: Easing into the New Year January 31, 2023 19:01
If you prefer to listen to this month's blog article, click here for the audio link.
It's hard to top last month's blog post about a life-changing trip to India, so I'm going to keep things simple and easy this month.
January, with it's cold temperatures and snowy conditions, has brought many opportunities for practice, and I have gently leaned into all of them.
***
This month, I committed to beginning each morning by reciting the 21 Praises of Tara. Before reaching for my phone, before getting dressed--I turn on my bedside table light and chant these praises in English from a small booklet I received from an earlier retreat.
It takes just a few minutes, and it's an easy, peaceful way to begin the day.
Mornings are fairly hectic for me, especially on the days when I tutor. I'm scrambling to shower, dress, eat breakfast, make a lunch before leaving for school. However, taking five minutes to practice right when I wake up is totally doable.
Sometimes, Zora will join me. She'll jump up on the bed, stare at me with her big green eyes, and purr as I chant the stanzas to a simple melody.
I'm sensitive to music, and melodies stay with me for a while, even after the music has stopped, so all the Taras are with me as I'm making breakfast and pouring hot tea into a tumbler. They also ride with me in the car as I'm commuting to school, which is perfectly fine by me. I enjoy their company.
***
At the beginning of this month, my friend Kim invited me to participate in a ten-day meditation challenge through the Ten Percent Happier app. I'd heard about this challenge on Roshi Joan Halifax's Facebook page, and I'd listened to the Ten Percent Happier podcast with the interview with Dan Harris, who was the main host of this ten-day challenge, so saying yes to this challenge was a no-brainer.
I enjoyed the brief videos before each meditation session. Harris and Roshi Joan had traveled to Dharamshala to interview HHDL for this project, and seeing familiar sights where I had recently traveled with my Dharma friends was motivating and comforting.
Roshi Joan led the meditations each day, which lasted for ten minutes. It was easy to make time for them--some of the sessions I was able to do at school between student sessions. This was a short-term commitment, and Kim and I encouraged each other to practice daily through the app.
***
Over the past few winters, I have committed to participating in Sravasti Abbey's Retreat from Afar. These retreats span the course of several months, and participants can choose how much time they wish to devote to the daily practices--anywhere from one to four months.
Personally, I like the four-month commitment. This year's retreat is a little different from previous retreats. The focus this year is on the Four Establishments of Mindfulness, which I have heard about, but I haven't delved into specific practices related to them.
For previous RFA retreats, I would listen to the teachings the nuns would post on YouTube and read the weekly articles they would share via email. I would practice the meditation or sadhana sessions on my own.
This year's format is more community-based. I've been looking forward to participating in their daily practice sessions on Zoom. They host two public sessions. Sometimes I catch the morning practice, and sometimes, I have to wait to practice during their evening sessions.
It's nice to have a couple of options, and I'm enjoying the structure, format, and melodies of the prayers. I'm also enjoying the guided analytic meditations and visualizations nestled between the sadhana prayers.
One of the things I like about these annual retreats is I don't have to leave home and abandon my work responsibilities. I also like that the nuns freely offer recorded teachings via YouTube. For this retreat, Ven. Sangye Khadro shared a series of twelve teachings related to the Four Establishments that she taught in 2021. She also recommended a book, The Four Foundations of Mindfulness in Plain English, by Bhante Gunaratana to supplement and support our daily practices.
While this opportunity requires more time and dedication than the ten-day meditation challenge and month-long Tara recitations, it is interesting and engaging to me, and I am definitely reaping benefits from it.
I'm hoping to be able to visit Sravasti Abbey in person some day.
***
Since September's Chenrezig retreat led by Geshe Kunga at TMBCC in Bloomington, I have been practicing the Chenrezig sadhana on the daily at home. I read it aloud in Tibetan and in English. This practice, too, has become more comforting and familiar each time I recite it.
I enjoy the melody shifts as I make my way through each section of the sadhana, and my fluency and pronunciation with the Tibetan language continues to improve slowly with this practice as well.
***
My days lately have become crowded with various practices, but they aren't burdensome have to's--they are sources of comfort, and they offer just enough structure to make me feel like I've accomplished something meaningful.
Some of these practices are temporary. The Retreat from Afar will end in April, and I have one more day of reciting the 21 Praises of Tara in the morning.
Each practice is an offering--a dedication, and, collectively, these practices dovetail and enhance each other. Most importantly, I've noticed that the more regularly I practice, the more benefits I notice when I'm not sitting on the cushion.
*I'm calmer and more relaxed.
A couple of Sundays ago, the temperature was just low enough to turn wet streets slick and icy. I was driving in Bloomington early in the morning, and my brakes locked up as I was approaching a red light. I was able to glide over into the right lane to avoid the stopped car in front of me, and I continued to glide through the red light without getting hit--or freaking out.
*I don't plunge into spirals of worry and anxiety...as often :).
My husband and I were notified by a sub contractor for the power company that they were going to have to cut down 25 trees along our long driveway in order to replace a couple of old telephone poles. While this news was upsetting, I didn't freak out. My husband had a contact that proved to be invaluable--the name and number of the regional director of this power company. He called and explained the situation.
In the meantime, I did what I could--I reached out to my monk friends and asked if they would offer prayers for these vulnerable trees during their next puja ceremony. During my own visualizations during practice, I imagined miniature golden Shakyamuni Buddhas on every branch of these trees. These Buddhas dissolved into bright lights and traveled into their trunks all the way down into their root networks.
We received good news this afternoon--the trees would not need to be cut down, and the sub contractor that gave us the bad news initially would be removed from this project, replaced with someone with a little more respect for nature and compassion.
Was it the phone call or the prayers and visualizations? Maybe all of the above. It doesn't matter--skillful action and dedicated practice paid off.
* I'm more open to exploring options and adventures.
Instead of sitting in the never-ending construction traffic on I-465 when driving home from school only to exit onto another major road that is also under construction, I explored several options, thanks to Google Maps, until I found a route that avoids major traffic, long waits at stop lights, and views blocked by semis and dump trucks.
I don't save much time with this scenic route, but I don't mind. I am able to keep moving at a safe, steady pace, I enjoy the view along the way, and when I arrive home, I am in a much calmer state of mind.
***
One of the biggest lessons that I've learned over the years is the importance of finding my way into my own personal practices.
What works for some of my Dharma and spiritual friends doesn't necessarily resonate with me, and what resonates with me, may not resonate with you....and that's OK. Practice is practice.
The important thing is to find what does resonate--and to make a commitment and some time for practice--every day, even if it's just for a few minutes. Sometimes it takes an open mind and an adventurous heart to find what works, but when you do, you'll know it because your life will begin to change...for the better.
I have added several beautiful malas and quarter malas to the online collection recently. Check it out, while you're here--and if a design resonates with you...you know what to do :).
See you next month--
Take care!