Change Is Happening in This Space: Evidence of Growth from Daily Mantra Practice November 20, 2021 15:15

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I had a friend ask me recently how my mantra practice has changed my life or made a difference in my life.

At first, I mentioned small things--like finding joy and appreciating everyday moments--the burst of color of autumn leaves...watching a child toddle toward a school bus in the morning and not feeling impatient about having to wait in traffic, but taking a moment to enjoy the moment.

However, it occurred to me later that there was a more significant change that I've noted recently. It has taken time to develop, and it has evolved and morphed very slowly and gradually. 

This change that I've noticed is that I am not feeling the need to elaborate on situations, events, or occurrences, especially those that made me feel unsettled, agitated, annoyed, or even traumatized.

Before I started a daily mantra practice, I was prone to oversharing details--whether good, bad, or indifferent. I felt inclined to justify myself or over explain even the most mundane occurrences. I wanted others to know "the whole story."

In recounting the details, especially of unsettling stories, I would relive the suffering of the original encounter, and I also ran the risk of causing suffering for others by spewing these details, too.

However, I've noticed a significant change in this pattern since I've been practicing regularly. I've caught myself on three separate occasions recently.

For example, I recently attended the Bands of America Grand Nationals Competition in Indianapolis. A friend of mine saw my FB post and sent me a private message asking if I knew a friend of hers who is a choreographer of band shows and who also happens to be a Buddhist teacher.

I messaged in response, "I know of him," but that was it. I steered the written conversation toward the current performances and how talented the musicians were. In other words, I didn't feel the need to mention or dredge up any unpleasant details. 

I actually did have an unusual exchange a few years ago with this friend of hers. He wanted to argue about an article I had shared online about meditation, and when I didn't engage, he became increasingly more judgmental and angry. Ultimately, he got the last word with a snarky remark and then blocked me from his page.

Even these are bare-bones details. I don't feel the need, even now, to recount the entire story. It's water under the bridge. I also don't need this person's approval or friendship, and I didn't feel the need to bring up an inconsequential conflict now with the friend who messaged me. These details from the past were irrelevant to the current conversation.

I left it at, "I know of him."

In another recent conversation with a friend, this time a spoken one, we were discussing our Tibetan language lessons. I mentioned that I had changed textbooks, and that I had found another book that was more helpful for me.

I didn't feel the need to elaborate on the specific reasons or explain why the other text was not a good fit for me. I didn't mention the poor organization, the occasional misspellings, the firehose-type spray of overwhelming information in each chapter, which was incredibly anxiety-triggering for me.

Instead, I left it at, "I found another book that motivates me to learn," and we continued on with our conversation.  

Finally, this pattern has not just had an impact on written and spoken conversations with others. It has also had an impact on my own private thoughts.

Last week I was at home sweeping the kitchen floor when I thought about a teacher who used to be at the Dharma center that I currently attend. He's since moved on to another center on the East Coast.

Instead of rehashing and ruminating about the handful of brief encounters when I had observed him being judgmental of others or rude to me, I simply stopped these thoughts with another one--"He's not my teacher."

This single thought put a stop to an unnecessary, negative thought spiral, and it allowed me to be present with what I was doing instead.

In essence, my daily mantra practice is preventing and stopping cycles of suffering for others and for myself.

I am choosing my words and thoughts more carefully, I am more engaged with people in the present moment, and I'm less likely to overshare or overshadow conversations with unnecessary editorializing and kvetching.

Even in my own head, I'm not allowing unpleasant memories or judgments to interfere with the present moment.

In short, I'm letting the irrelevant and negative details go. They don't serve others, they don't serve me, and they don't serve my practice.

I'm grateful for my friend for asking her question--and I'm grateful for having opportunities to notice this change in my thinking and my practice. I'm also hopeful that continuing to practice will bring about even more beneficial changes in the future.

My hope is that your personal practice benefits you as well as others, too.

__

By the way, the Indy Holistic Hub Wellbeing Fest in Indianapolis earlier this month was a big success. Several beautiful malas found new homes, and I am working steadily to add new designs to the online shop. Please visit middlemoonmalas.com to view the current and ever-growing collection. 

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.

The Benefits of Motivation and Curiosity: On the Road and in a Meditation Practice July 31, 2021 16:55

(photo credit: Muhammad owsama via Unsplash)

If you prefer to listen to this month's blog post, please click here for the audio link.

 These past few weeks, I have been grateful to be able to drive to Bloomington to attend Dharma teachings in-person at TMBCC (Tibetan Mongolian Buddhist Cultural Center).

The center is now open for weekly teachings, and visitors are required to wear masks (an act of compassion that protects themselves and others).

An ongoing (and major) construction project is happening on State Road 37, which is the road I usually take to B-town. Part of this highway is closed, and a detour is required in order for me to reach my destination. The orange cones, "rodeo barrels," and ever-changing traffic patterns with unexpected curves and sharp turns make this weekly commute a continual surprise. The road is forever morphing and changing.

However, dedication, curiosity, and motivation inspire me to navigate my way back and forth each Sunday. I wake up a little earlier. I leave the house a little sooner, and I keep an open, judgment-free mind. Expectations typically create unwanted limitations, and they are a sure-fire way to set myself up for disappointment and stress.

I type in the address on the GPS system in my car and follow the directions (usually--a few rebellious "route recalculations" are part of the fun). Each time I've taken this trip, my car has led me on a different route.

I'm exploring new pathways.

I'm trusting the guidance. 

I'm open to discovery, and I'm curious about the journey.

This is SIGNIFICANT growth for me. I am notoriously bad at directions, and I get lost and turned around very easily. As a result, getting lost used to be quite anxiety-triggering for me...to the point that it would prevent me from exploring new places and experiences.

I'm also not usually thrilled about driving long distances, either. This commute takes me well over an hour each way. However, I have been enjoying these excursions. I'm more relaxed and patient in the car. I'm less fearful and more open. I'm less disoriented and more curious. I don't worry about the time as much as I used to, and I have enjoyed taking in the new scenery each week.

I'm not sure what's changed, but because my motivation is strong, I'm more flexible, accepting, and eager to discover new pathways.

Meditation practice is like this, too.

Meditation is a method of self-regulation. Over time, a regular practice regulates my thoughts, which can trigger a relaxation response in the body.

Scientific studies have shown that meditation can reduce inflammation, which can ward off harmful disease. Meditation can increase insulin production, which can improve blood sugar regulation in the body. Meditation can also have anti-aging effects by preserving the ends of chromosomes (called telomeres).

Consequently, training the mind through a regular meditation practice can indirectly affect the expression of genes and influence the production of hormones. In other words, meditation can affect your body on a cellular level!

It can also encourage the growth of new neural pathways in the brain. This process is also known as self-directed neuroplasticity. Neuroplasticity is the brain's ability to adapt to change. The environment, thoughts, and actions can influence the brain's ability to create these new neural pathways. 

A regular meditation practice can improve the ability to focus and remain present. It can lead to reduced stress and anxiety, and it can also enhance and improve intuition and interoception (an awareness of sensations inside the body).

Meditation naturally leads to improved self-awareness and self-regulation. It can also prevent age-related brain atrophy and protect against memory loss. Meditation retrains the brain to become more fully present and to rely less on living unconsciously on "auto-pilot." 

It's not easy to break away from ingrained habits--to bust out of the status quo and embrace new things.

Change is possible.

Growth is possible.

Where you choose to place your attention determines the quality of your life.

Personally, meditation has encouraged me to take more responsibility for my life. I feel more confident, and I'm more willing to explore new experiences and interests. I'm also less judgmental and fearful.

 So, maybe not being able to travel to Bloomington and attend Dharma teachings in-person for several months gave me more time to meditate at home and hone my own self-directed neuroplasticity skills.

And, maybe all of these construction projects with their detours and alternate routes are pushing all of us, gently, out of our well-worn habits and encouraging us to explore and appreciate the scenery of unknown roads.

The path to awareness is both a physical and mental journey, and being open, curious, and motivated will help make this journey more meaningful and enjoyable.

Speaking of enjoying your practice--I have added several new mala designs to the online shop. Feel free to check out the full collection here. 

Post-Pandemic Practice Blues: Navigating the New Normal June 30, 2021 18:30

 If you prefer to listen to this month's blog post, please click here for the audio link.

I'm on summer break... I'm fully vaccinated... COVID restrictions are lifting!

I have had a couple of opportunities to meet friends who I haven't seen in ages for lunch. I attended a Summer Solstice event at a local park recently as a vendor and sold a couple of malas in person. 

I've had more time to read and attend book club meetings (virtual ones--which is just fine).

On the outside, things are looking really good--almost, dare I say, normal?

However, on the inside, things are a bit shaky. 

My meditation practice, especially, has been sputtering a bit.

During the pandemic, I looked forward to meditation practice. My cushion was a safe place, and the practice, a welcome refuge.

Over the course of these last few weeks, I've noticed that I've been putting off the things that have brought me comfort and solace during the pandemic, including my meditation practice. I typically sit in the evening when the house is quiet and still. Lately, I have been delaying my practice, pushing it off to later and later in the evening, until I'm too tired to practice with a clear head, and, as a result, I haven't been sitting as long, and the quality of the practices haven't been as beneficial.

Even when I do practice early enough in the evening, I feel anxious or jumpy. I can't settle in on the cushion like before, and random thoughts, memories, and worries interrupt and intrude more frequently.

Sadhana practices feel more mechanical, like I'm reciting on auto-pilot.

I'm having trouble focusing on any task for very long, really. I feel scattered and pulled in different directions.

The doors to the world are opening, and the distractions and anxieties are flying in!

Transitions are not easy, and reintegration after pandemic lockdown is no exception.

While this shift is a bit disconcerting and frustrating, I take solace in knowing that nothing is permanent. I've also taken a few simple steps to navigate and remedy this transition.

* Shorter Sitting Times

Instead of putting all of my meditation eggs in one basket and having one longer sitting session in the evening, I've found that sitting for short periods of time a few times each day is helpful.

* Embracing Variety

Sometimes the distractions and discursive thoughts are so intense that meditating in a traditional seated posture is just not going to happen. So, I've found that giving myself permission to meditate while lying down, or even while moving slowly and mindfully, helps me to maintain single-pointed focus more effectively. 

The other day, my meditation practice consisted of mindfully sweeping and mopping the floors upstairs. Honestly, it was one of the best sessions I've had all week--and, as an added bonus, my floors are clean, too :).

* Comparisons and Expectations are Saboteurs

After experiencing several months of meditation sessions that were fairly steady and smooth, and then suddenly experiencing choppy waters of resistance and worry, it's easy to fall into thought spirals fraught with comparisons and expectations. Each meditation session is different, so comparing a session to one from the day or week or month before is usually counter productive. Similarly, sitting with an expectation to have a "successful" practice is just as useless. Comparisons and expectations can sabotage any practice (not just meditation).

Gently reminding myself that each practice will be different, and that sitting (lying down, or moving mindfully) without any expectations is both reassuring and helpful. 

* Parts and Sections

Instead of completing a full sadhana practice with all the bells and whistles, I have found that focusing on one part or section of the practice to be very helpful. For example, reciting the Refuge Prayer or Generating Bodhicitta, and then pausing to sit and contemplate this part of the practice has been extremely helpful. It allows me to slow down, still the chattering mind, and take in (and enjoy) a specific part of the practice without feeling compelled to jump ahead.

*Words of Inspiration

Another strategy that I've found helpful (and is a practice in and of itself) is reading a short passage or page from an inspiring book or article. Then, taking time to sit and think about this passage for a few minutes.

I keep a few books on my altar space. I gravitate to books with very short chapters or even poetry collections (i.e. Natalie Goldberg's Three Simple Lines, Thich Nhat Hanh's Peace Is Every Step).

Right before I sat down to write this article, a Feldenkrais friend of mine had posted an inspiring quotation on her Facebook page. 

"Busy-ness steals imagination.

Being constantly over scheduled dims creativity.

Doing the most limits your capacity to expand.

Pause."

Octavia Raheem

This quotation resonates--and I just might sit with it this afternoon.

* Be Gentle and Patient

Baby steps are essential for navigating most transitions. I am at my best when I am kind, patient, and operating from a place of non-judgment. Berating myself is not helpful, neither are getting huffy and worked up because I can't sit still. Cultivating kindness and reminding myself to be gentle and easy with myself is a practice in an of itself!

*Consistency

Finally, being consistent has been extremely helpful during this unsteady, awkward time. If I do some form of practice every day, I feel more grounded, and I feel like I've done something meaningful to benefit myself (and hopefully others as well).

I hope all of you are well, and I hope you are navigating these unpredictable times with grace, courage, and dignity. 

Keep practicing :)

By the way--for those of you who might be interested in a new mala to celebrate the summer season or to enhance your own practice, check out the online shop (middlemoonmalas.com). I've added several new designs since last month. 

Take Care--

T

Meditative Musings: Brood X Cicadas May 31, 2021 16:02

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It's a Sunday afternoon. I'm sitting outside in the backyard listening to the Brood X cicadas sing in the trees. One of our neighbors is tooling around his yard on a lawn mower, but the cicadas are drowning him out.

There's a distinctive undercurrent of sound--like a constant "Ha" or a steady, but subtle baseline, and then a spiraling, melodic layer of sound pressing over it. I love this sound--this steady crescendo and decrescendo--and I love the creatures who create this sound; they inspire me, and they motivate me to continue to practice.

Any creature that burrows underground and stays "in retreat" for seventeen years, emerges, molts, mates, and sings all while constantly at risk of being eaten by just about every other creature (ants, birds, squirrels, raccoons, dogs, etc.) has my total respect.

Cicadas are mascots of endurance and patience, and it's particularly fitting that their emergence coincides with our own cautious emergence from the COVID-19 pandemic, at least here in the U.S.

For the last couple of weeks, I've wandered around our yard every morning and afternoon examining the trunks of trees for their empty husks--or, exuviae--evidence of successful molts.

And they are everywhere! Scattered in the grass, stuck to the undersides of leaves, they cling to the bricks of our home and line the outer edges of our garage door.

Not all of them make it. I've seen several "failed molts" of would-be cicadas trapped in their former "nymph" selves, unable to escape--or they escape, but with crumpled wings damaged in the molting process. When I see them, I whisper "Om.Ah.Hum" on their behalf.

A few days ago, I was lucky enough to witness a successful molt from start to finish. It was a cool, foggy morning, and I noticed a dark brown shell at eye level on a cherry tree in our front yard. This exoskeleton didn't have a vertical split down the center of the thorax, so I knew the shell was still occupied.

I wandered around for a few minutes looking at other trees in the yard. When I came back, the shell was pulsating, so I decided to stick around.

I stood by the tree and watched this cicada emerge from its exoskeleton--the entire process took a little over an hour.

It wriggled and pressed its way out of the confines of the exoskeleton that protected him in the earth. His body was pale, and his wings were small and delicate. 

When he emerged, he looked like he was doing a back bend until his wings and all six legs were free from the shell. He moved, wriggled, and stretched all of his legs, then returned toward the tree, climbed over his shed exoskeleton, and rested until his crumpled wings slowly unfurled and dried. Then, he took his first steps as an adult cicada and began to climb up the tree.

You may be wondering, at this point, what on earth does this have to do with meditation practice? This is a valid question.

Today is Monday--Memorial Day--and I took some time to sit outside to meditate this afternoon.

The temperature was cool, and the sky was cloudy and overcast.

I closed my eyes and listened underneath the intermittent bird song, the occasional slam of a car door, the sputtering motor of a nearby riding lawn mower, and the sound of a motorcycle accelerating in the distance. Beneath these distinct "sounds of samsara" was a constant hum that seemed to be coming from nowhere and everywhere at once.

What started as the roar of applause, or the sound effect from a B-rated sci-fi flick, transformed into the hush of cause and effect, the infinite sigh of the earth, the soft, primordial thunder that held all other sounds together. It held space for sound, and it, too, was the sound of space. This ubiquitous murmur was the sound of transformation, the backdrop of interconnection, and a beautiful reminder that life is precious, that time is limited.

 This is the sound of generosity; this is the sound of ethics; this is the sound of patience; this is the sound of joyful effort, this is the sound of focus, and this is the sound of wisdom.

For me, these Brood X cicadas are simple but powerful symbols that embody and sing the benefits of daily practice. All we have to do to benefit others, as well as ourselves, is to observe, to listen, and to be still.

 May you all enjoy the remnants of this holiday weekend, and may you all find time for your own practice today....and every day.

Thanks for reading or listening. If you haven't checked out the Middle Moon Malas online shop in a while, be sure to visit middlemoonmalas.com. I've added a few new designs recently that you might like.

Take care, everyone!

Taking Action and Responsibility for Your Own Practice April 30, 2021 10:52

  If you would prefer to listen to this month's blog post, please click HERE.

When I was a very young kid, my family moved into an apartment complex on the far east side of Indianapolis. Braeburn Village was a brand new complex in 1970, and we were one of its earliest tenants.

I was very curious and playful as a kid (as most kids are), and I would sometimes peer into the windows of the first floor apartments to see how other families lived. I was curious about what they were doing, how they spent their time, and, most importantly, what they were having for dinner.

Often, the windows revealed dark, empty kitchens, but since then, I have always been curious about how other people lived their lives. It was important for me to feel like I belonged.... and that I fit in.

I have long since abandoned peering into my neighbors' kitchen windows :), but this need to fit in, to feel connected and understood... well, that still lingers.

Even now, I can be easily influenced (and overly curious) about what others do--to the point that I question my own judgement and whether the way I choose to do things is OK. This tendency can be a blessing... and a curse.

Comparing myself to others, and then changing or adapting in order to accommodate can be unnecessary. It often hinders learning for me and can lead to great frustration and confusion. At other times, it can enhance the learning process, accentuate curiosity and play, and lead to discovery and more creative and innovative ways of doing things.

I've been studying the Tibetan language for a little more than a year. Because of COVID, my lessons have been online. I've been working with a wonderful teacher, who is originally from Lhasa, and one other student.

We've been using a textbook that is fairly advanced and not really ideal for new language learners, so from the very beginning, the weekly lessons were challenging. As we progressed more deeply into the text, the lessons became even more overwhelming and stressful for me.

I didn't think much about it at first since everything was new in the beginning. I expected some degree of confusion. Confusion, after all, is an important aspect of the learning process, and it can often be a motivator for discovery. However, as we made our way through the chapters, my confusion and frustration escalated, rather than subsided. The information in the text was daunting to me, and it lacked clear explanations and adequate exercises for practice.

Unfortunately, my need to fit in, belong, and stay caught up pushed me to continue. It would take me hours to complete the short, weekly exercises, and, worst of all, nothing was sticking. I wasn't retaining the information from week to week. This drinking-from-a-firehose technique of learning was NOT working for me, and it was crushing my curiosity, playfulness, and motivation to learn this beautiful language.  

  My fellow classmate, however, LOVES this book. He enjoys sifting through mounds of information and was even pushing to move even faster through the text.

My need to keep up and my tendency to accommodate others hit a wall in the middle of Chapter 5. I reached out to two friends for additional resource suggestions. One is a professor of Tibetan Studies; the other is a translator for a Tibetan lama in Canada. Both recommended additional texts that might be helpful for me.

I also reached out to my Tibetan teacher and asked if she could work with me individually. She agreed that the book we were using was too advanced (for both me and my fellow student) and agreed to work with me on another day of the week.

By taking action and responsibility for my own learning, I have a renewed sense of commitment, curiosity, and motivation. I'm honoring what works for me, and I'm looking forward to slowing down and focusing on just a couple of concepts at a time--and taking more time to practice, play, and explore with those concepts before adding additional information.

In this case, "keeping up" was NOT helping; it was actually hindering my progress. It was also sabotaging my motivation and mental health.

The new books my friends recommended have arrived this week. I'm looking forward to diving in and exploring them on my own terms and in my own way. I'm also looking forward to the one-on-one sessions with my teacher soon.

***

Sometimes, however, examining a subject from a different perspective can be inspiring--and can even ENHANCE one's practice.

Recently, I've joined an online book group. We are reading Lama Rod Owens' Love and Rage: The Path of Liberation through Anger. 

We meet twice a month and discuss a few chapters at a time.

Last week, we discussed Chapter 4, which includes detailed descriptions of several personal meditation practices that Lama Rod incorporates regularly in his own practice.

I appreciated that he took the time to carefully outline and explain each step of each practice. 

He explained each part of the practices by including examples, and he also followed up each with a brief outline. Lama Rod carefully explained at least a dozen specific practices in this chapter.

I found these detailed descriptions to be extremely useful, and I even had time to explore and play with a couple of them before we had our most recent book club meeting. His explanations have enhanced my own personal meditation practice.

Ironically, during our online discussion, a few members of the group found this chapter to be daunting and overwhelming: "TMI for one chapter."

They wondered if Lama Rod could have mentioned one practice at at time--maybe dedicating one chapter to each practice rather than cramming all twelve into one chapter.

This made me think of my online Tibetan class, and my classmate who loved the TMI text--but my frustration with it.

Although, compared to the Tibetan text, Chapter 4 in Lama Rod's book was nothing in terms of being too confusing or overwhelming :) !

I didn't feel compelled to try ALL of the practices, and the ones he outlined weren't linear. In other words, I didn't have to practice the first one before experimenting with the second one, etc.

I read through the chapter, picked a couple to explore, and enjoyed the practices as a result.

I may not need to take the time to explore the remaining practices. I took what I needed and moved on.

Learning has always been an important part of my life, and everyone learns in a different way. Trying to fit into someone else's learning style or educational paradigm is NOT a good thing.

Learning to honor my OWN path and to follow what fascinates and nourishes me has been a lifelong journey, too, just as honoring what fascinates and nourishes others--giving them the space to explore their own path is just as valuable and important.

At this point, I'm back on track. I'm curious, playful, and motivated about continuing to learn Tibetan in a way that resonates with me. I'm also fascinated about bringing fresh awareness into my personal meditation practice by learning more about what works for Lama Rod and the other members of my book club group.

Peering into my neighbors' kitchen windows when I was a kid has been a helpful and humorous metaphor for gauging if it's appropriate to follow along with others, abdicating my own viewpoint (and power) in the process. However, that's not always the best approach. Learning to observe, listen, and trust myself, to take responsibility and action for what fosters and nourishes my own curiosity has been an even more powerful life lesson.

This process turns the kitchen window metaphor around for me, and it involves paying closer attention to what's happening in my own "kitchen," appreciating that it, too, has value, worth, and the potential to nourish. Viewing the world through this lens (or window) allows me to acknowledge and appreciate my own perspective, and it also allows me to observe what's happening in the outer world while simultaneously maintaining a sense of connection, belonging, and understanding.  

While you're here, I invite you to check out the current Middle Moon Malas online collection. Several new designs have been added to the online shop. These one-of-a-kind designs are made with love and care, and they're intended to enhance your meditation, movement, and wellness practices.

The Best Laid Plans: Celebrating Joy on the Path March 29, 2021 13:26

If you prefer to listen to this month's blog post, please click here. 

 Years ago, long before I practiced meditation on a daily basis, I used to worry when things went according to plan, which seems like a silly thing to do, now that I look back. However, I was convinced that something was bound to go wrong, or that an unexpected glitch would send everything crashing to the ground.

A regular meditation practice has taught me that planning is useful, but being attached to the plans is not so good. Circumstances can shift at a moment's notice, and priorities can turn on a dime. Besides, it's rare for things to go exactly as planned.

This past Sunday, my son-in-law arranged for several family members and friends to meet at a local park. It was a surprise adventure for my daughter. He was planning to formally propose, and he wanted all of us to be there to witness it and celebrate.

Technically, Elise and Christopher are already married. They had an intimate garden wedding last June at our home. However, because of COVID restrictions, they wanted to have a more formal ceremony later this year in order to celebrate with more family members and friends.

Christopher scoped out the best trail in the park, and he arranged for various couples and family clusters to spread out and "hide" on the path. Each person was given a flower to hold.

The plan was for Elise and Christopher to walk along the trail together and "happen to encounter" various friends and family along the way. They would give her their flowers, chat briefly, and Elise and Christopher would continue on the path.  By the end of the trail, Christopher's parents, Jim, and I  would be waiting to greet them both with a beautiful vase full of flowers. At this point, Christopher would kneel down and pop the question.

He even arranged for friends to stop by their house and pick up Kevin, their dog. Kevin would be carrying a flower, too (a squeaky toy version) and he'd be wearing a sign around his neck that read "Will U Marry Dad?"

Keep in mind, nearly 30 people were invited to participate in this event, and some friends were traveling several hours in order to attend. It's springtime in Indiana, which means we could have a torrential downpour, a tornado, or a blizzard all in the same week. So, what could possibly go wrong? 

Well, fortunately, the weather turned out to be absolutely beautiful. We had had a significant rain the day before, but the trails were dry, and a 60 degree day with full sun is about as good as it gets this time of year. 

Most everyone arrived at the park on time. We had plenty of time to spread out along the trail to wait for Elise and Christopher to arrive.

Other hikers paused and asked about our flowers. We let them in on our family plan.

The only hiccup, really, was a garter snake who surprised Christopher's mom while she was sitting on a fallen log, but that wasn't a big deal. No human or snake was harmed in this surprise encounter.

We were all on the path together, and we were all here for a common purpose, to support each other and celebrate this day with Elise and Christopher.

From the woods, we could see their car pull into the crowded parking lot, and we watched as they made their way to the head of the trail.

We could hear their voices mingling with those of friends and family, their laughter ringing through the branches.

At the end of the trail, friends and family gathered under an archway. Kevin, wearing his sign, sauntered behind Christopher, who knelt into soft soil and proposed. 

It was a beautiful moment, and everything fell into place in order for it to happen.

Afterwards, we gathered at Christopher's parents' home for a barbeque and enjoyed the rest of the afternoon.

It's been my experience that intention has a lot to do with the success or failure of a scheduled event or plan. It's certainly not the only factor, but I tend to find that if the intentions are positive, the outcomes will be, too.

Another necessary component is having a relaxed, flexible mindset. We did not have any rigid taskmasters in our group, thank goodness. Nothing saps the good vibes out of a fun surprise more than an anal-retentive group leader or project manager who insists on a specific time table or arbitrary rules. Christopher had created a clear plan, he shared the general instructions with everyone involved, he made arrangements in advance with a florist and with friends to pick up Kevin, and then he left it up to all of us to do our part. He was relaxed and committed to making this a special day for Elise.

Finally, not worrying about "what ifs," "glitches," and "worst case scenarios" is important as well. These only muck up plans and create unnecessary anxiety for the participants, especially worrying about things that are not in your control (like the weather, for instance).

Plans are important and necessary. They offer a bit of structure and organization to our lives, and they give us things to look forward to. Celebration and joy are equally important. They add meaning to our lives and give us an opportunity to share that meaning with others. Being flexible, relaxed, and having clear, rock-solid intentions not only benefit a personal meditation practice, but they can also help us implement and enjoy our plans and goals.  

This planned surprise proposal was a success for everyone involved, especially for Elise and Christopher. 

Be sure to check out the Middle Moon Malas online shop for one-of-a-kind mala designs to support and nourish your own personal meditation practice. Spring is a time for renewal, and renewing your practice with a new mala is cause for celebration and joy! 

Gratitude and Interdependence: Celebrating Connection February 25, 2021 19:03

 If you prefer to listen to this blog post, please click here.

This February marks the sixth anniversary of Middle Moon Malas, so this month’s blog post is an offering of gratitude and an acknowledgment of the importance and benefits of interdependence.

The last six years have been a slow, steady adventure in learning, growing, and building self-esteem and confidence in the world of business, and I couldn’t have come this far without the help of a lot of people.

I am so grateful to my friend Micaela who saw potential in me even before I recognized it in myself. We met (and survived) in a yoga teacher training program. With her business experience and savvy, combined with her amazing tech skills, patience, and grace, she helped me set up my business website and business plan.

I am also grateful for Bill, my SCORE mentor (Service Corps of Retired Executives), who met with me once a month for a year to offer wisdom, resources, and practical business guidance.

I am grateful for Shopify and their tech support! I haven’t had to contact them often, but when I did, they were there for me—to help guide me and answer questions without judgment or making me feel like I was a burden or a nuisance.

I am extremely grateful for the bead suppliers that I have found on this path. They have helped me to create beautiful designs—whether they were local brick and mortar bead shops and craft stores, online Etsy sellers, big name wholesalers, or friends who donated beads.

I am grateful for the makers, manufacturers, and distributors of the supplies and tools I use in order to create mala designs and ship them to their new homes—pliers, needles, scissors, tissue paper, bubble wrap, boxes, insulated bubble mailers, and packing tape.       

I am grateful for the USPS—all of the postal employees I have interacted with have been reliable, friendly, dedicated, professional, and patient. I appreciate their service immensely!

I am grateful for the woman from Estonia who reached out to me on the Contact Us page to suggest that I add an audio file to each blog. She enjoys reading my monthly posts, but reading is a struggle for her due to vision challenges. It took a little while, but I figured out a way to do that. Now, I look forward to writing—and reading-- each month’s blog posts. I’m talking to you today because of this woman. Personally, I was amazed that someone from Estonia (or anywhere else in the world, for that matter) was reading my blogs.

I am grateful for the ability to view on my admin page where visitors to the website are from: Ireland, Kenya, Australia, Portugal, Poland, Spain, France, Malaysia, Canada, Brazil, Seychelles, New Zealand, Thailand, and all the individual states in the U.S.

MMM is a teeny, tiny independent micro biz, but it’s connected to the whole world. I’m on my own, but I am certainly not alone. I definitely could not have embarked on this journey without the help and support from others.

Most importantly, I am grateful to the many friends, fellow practitioners, clients, and customers who have purchased malas, for themselves or others, or who have requested custom designs.

Some have been gifts for loved ones.

Some have been healing offerings for those battling and recovering from illness.

Some were for those who wanted babies, meaningful career paths, new homes, safe travels, and loving relationships.

Some were peace offerings.

Some were for yoga studio owners and their students.

All were made with love, dedication, and care.

If I knew ahead of time what the mala was for (and you don’t have to have a specific reason or intent, but some do), if I knew ahead of time what the specific intention was, I would whisper, speak, or sing mantras of compassion, healing, strength, etc. as I strung the beads, secured the knots, and wrapped the tassels.

More often than not, I don’t know who the malas are for, and sometimes, I have to be patient and wait for their “people” to find them. Whether I know who they are for or not, I put great care into creating each design.

My hope is that these malas inspire others to practice, whether it’s seated meditation, mindful walking, japa, yoga, alternative movement modalities, or just trying to be a good person in the world…

My hope is that these malas support and serve others’ personal practices in a positive, meaningful way.

I love what I do, and even though I may be an independent micro business owner, I couldn’t do this without the help of all of you.

This business adventure over the last six years has taught me the value and power of interdependence, and also the many blessings and benefits that heartfelt gratitude brings.

I’m very grateful to be able to offer these malas out into the world, and I am extremely grateful to all of you who have read the blogs, visited the website, liked, shared, and commented on social media posts, and purchased designs from the online shop, or requested a custom design.

It has been a wonderful six years, and I’m looking forward to creating even more heartfelt, hand-crafted mala designs for many years to come.

Thanks, everyone! 

Movement and Mantra: Connecting Breath, Body, Heart, and Mind January 28, 2021 09:17

If you prefer to listen to this month's blog post, (and you might since I've included a mini-meditation in this article) please click here.

I started my morning with a Feldenkrais lesson. 

It wasn't something I had planned to do, although I typically do practice some sort of Awareness Through Movement lesson at some point during the day. However, today, I happened to catch Joe Webster's live class on his Thoughtful Movements FB group.

Joe is a Feldenkrais practitioner in London, and typically, when he teaches his live classes, it is very early in the morning for me. Luckily, I was awake today and decided to practice with him.

I was still in bed, and even though he instructed us to do the lesson in a seated posture, I decided to practice lying down. I scooched pillows out of the way so I could stretch out comfortably. Maya was curled up at my feet snoring softly.

This morning's lesson was very subtle--focusing on the breath and the connection between the ribs and the vertebrae of the thoracic spine--more specifically, the thick, cartilaginous discs between each vertebra.

Joe has a very soothing, calming voice, and he began the lesson by inviting us to focus on our breathing--to notice how the chest cavity would gently rise and fall with the breath.

Then, he asked us to imagine the vertebrae of the middle back spine--to notice how these bones would gently lift on each inhalation, and then softly fall back on each exhalation.

He led us through an investigation of each disc between the twelve vertebrae of the thoracic spine. We spent a few minutes on each disc--observing the breath (about ten breaths for each disc)--and imagining each disc rise and fall softly with our breathing.

Joe didn't suggest this, but I realized that ten breaths and eleven discs add up to about 108, so I decided to incorporate a simple mantra into this early morning practice. (There are perks to being a bit of a rebel--I found doing this lesson lying down on a soft surface to be extremely helpful, and incorporating a mantra practice with it was the icing on the meditative cake!)

The mantra I chose was Aham Prema. It is a short, simple, and powerful Sanskrit mantra that translates as "I am Divine Love."

As I imagined each thoracic disc rising gently on the inhalations, I imagined the Sanskrit word Aham.

With each exhalation, as the disc moved back toward the soft mattress, I imagined the word Prema.

Gently, slowly--visualizing each disc nestled between the vertebrae, the chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. The spine responding to this gentle, effortless flow, and the mantra steadily leading, guiding, and unifying the practice.

This subtle Feldenkrais lesson became more than an embodied somatic practice. The mantra transformed it into a powerful meditation connecting breath, body, heart, and mind.

As Joe led his listeners through each pair of vertebrae--and each disc in the middle back spine--a journey was unfolding for me:

I imagined the disc nestled between T-1 and T-2

On the deep inhalation: Aham

and with it...deep gratitude.

On the slow, steady exhalation: Prema

I imagined the disc between T-2 and T-3

On the inhalation: Aham

and with it...profound understanding.

On the slow, gentle exhalation: Prema

I visualized the disc between T-3 and T-4

On the next inhalation: Aham

and with it...selflessness.

On the relaxed, easy exhalation: Prema

I visualized the disc between T-4 and T-5

On the next, deep inhalation: Aham

and with it...transcendence.

On the slow exhalation, Prema

I imagined the disc between T-5 and T-6

On the inhalation: Aham

and with it...meaningful service.

On the steady exhalation: Prema

I imagined the disc between T-6 and T-7

On the next inhalation: Aham

and with it...safe refuge.

On the next, deep exhalation: Prema

I imagined the disc between T-7 and T-8

On the steady inhalation: Aham

and with it...connection.

On the release of the exhalation: Prema

I imagined the disc between T-8 and T-9

On the next inhalation: Aham

and with it...a vast, infinite expanse.

On the exhalation: Prema

I visualized the disc between T-9 and T-10

On the inhalation: Aham

and with it...deep healing.

On the exhalation: Prema

I visualized the disc between T-10 and T-11

On the next, slow inhalation: Aham

and with it...forgiveness.

On the next, deep exhalation: Prema

Finally, I imagined the disc between T-11 and T-12

On this next inhalation: Aham

and with it...compassion.

On this next, slow exhalation: Prema

One of the benefits of having a regular mantra practice is the ability to incorporate the practice into daily tasks and parallel interests. I've found that mantra practice makes everything better. It improves focus, enhances the state of being present, and makes tasks and activities more meaningful and interesting.

This lesson and mantra practice was a wonderful way to start my day.

 For those of you who may be interested in exploring this Feldenkrais lesson with Joe Webster, click HERE for the YouTube recording of the lesson.

For those of you who prefer to chant mantra with a beautiful mala--or if you would like to share a mala with a friend or loved one, please visit the Middle Moon Malas online shop HERE.

Tying Loose Ends While the World Is on Hold December 21, 2020 15:32

If you prefer to listen to this blog post, please click here.

This past Tuesday, I had a COVID-19 test because of an indirect exposure to the virus. My husband had a colleague who tested positive after exhibiting symptoms, so we both booked appointments at a local Immediate Care center.

Two days later, my husband was able to view his results online. Fortunately, his results were negative. However, when I tried to access my results, it said my birthdate information was inaccurate.

So, I called the Immediate Care center and waited...and waited...and waited...I was #12 in the queue, and after listening to the same ten bars of plinky, tinny, and very annoying hold music for well over an hour, an LPN finally answered my call.

She was able to access my results quickly, and she also fixed the error on my records. Fortunately, I was also negative for COVID, and after a very tense hour of waiting, was quite relieved.

The universe had t been testing my patience big time on this day, and, I'm not going to lie, I was struggling to keep it together. I'm glad I did. It was well-worth the wait--but it certainly was not easy.

This year (2020) has not been easy, either, for many of us around the world. Some have lost their businesses, their jobs, their homes, their health, and even their loved ones to this pandemic.

This Winter Solstice is an especially important one. There is hope on the horizon--vaccines are now available to combat this virus, a New Year, (and a new administration) are quickly approaching. Even planets are aligning, literally, in the sky at this time.

The Great Conjunction of Jupiter and Saturn will be the closest since 1623, and the closest to be observed since 1226! This celestial phenomenon, occurring on the Winter Solstice, and welcoming the return to light, feels like a hopeful blessing after an extremely difficult and challenging year.

Earlier this week, I posted a short video on the Middle Moon Malas Facebook page about the significance of tassels in a mala design.

The sutra, or cord, that runs through all 108 beads, that creates the knots between each bead, and that eventually connects to the guru bead at the base of the design, is the line that holds everything together. The sutra represents the Cosmic Creative Force that supports or sustains every being in the universe.

The tassel, then, is an extension of the sutra which binds the garland together. It represents our connection to the Divine, or Source, or to the earth, as well as to all other living beings. It is a reminder of our Oneness and Unity. We are all connected and interconnected to each other and to the universe.

This is why, to reinforce the importance of this connection, I make each tassel by hand, using the same cord as the sutra in each mala design. I also bind and wrap each tassel by hand using this same cord.

As a result, each part of the mala is intricately connected and unified.

I'm not a fan of attaching pre-fabricated, factory-manufactured tassels onto my designs. They may be beautiful, but they can't capture the essence of unity and connection that is so important in a mala.

It takes time, effort, dedication, and patience to make and then join the tassel to the garland. I don't mind (unlike being on hold for an hour on the phone). 

The process is satisfying and meaningful to me. It gives me a sense of purpose to create a design knowing that it may benefit someone's personal practice and make a positive difference in their life.

Creating malas is not a chore or an obligation for me; it's a joy to create these one-of-a-kind designs. It may not be easy, but it is certainly worth all of the time, effort, and patience required in the end.

May the skies where you are be clear on this Winter Solstice evening. May you be able to witness the bright light of the Great Conjunction of Saturn and Jupiter, and may 2021 bring you joy, health, success, peace, and much-needed relief from this extremely trying year.

By the way, the New Year is also the perfect time for renewing your personal practices with a new mala. Please consider visiting the current online collection here--or send me an email through the Contact Us page for custom design inquiries.

Be happy!

Be safe!

Be well!

Warmly,

Teresa

Scar Tissue, Loss, and Gratitude November 17, 2020 15:26

 To listen to this blog post, please click here.

Ever since I was a kid, I've had ear trouble.

Right ear trouble, mostly. From chronic ear infections, tubes in the ears, and, eventually, a skin graft to repair the gaping hole that would not heal, thanks to a bad bout with hay fever. Because of scar tissue, the repaired right eardrum did not move in the same way that the healthy left one did. Its stiffness and rigidity resulted in significant hearing loss in my right ear.

I adapted and managed. After all, I had my left ear to rely on...until recently.

Two weeks ago, I made spaghetti with a soy-based meat substitute. I did not purchase these "soy balls."  My husband Jim picked them up for me when he went to the grocery store. He was being kind and thoughtful--and even though I knew I would have some kind of reaction (my body does not respond well to processed soy products), I didn't want to waste them...and...I'm not gonna lie...I was hungry!

So, I had a plate of spaghetti with three small soy balls, and within fifteen minutes, I noticed a rushing, roaring, and ringing in my left ear.

I occasionally experience ringing in both ears, but it typically lasts a few seconds or minutes. This lasted for hours--and I noticed that I was sensitive to certain sounds. The television news commentators' voices sounded tinny and metallic. I brushed it off thinking it might be an issue with the station.

The next morning, the roaring and rushing sounds had subsided, but my left ear felt full. I wasn't in pain, but it felt like I had an ear infection. Jim picked up some Benadryl for me, which did help alleviate the pressure and helped the ear drain. 

I thought that was the end of it. Nope!

When my alarm rang on Monday morning, I could barely hear it. It was low and faint, and I honestly thought our clock had broken. It hadn't, and that's how I realized that I could not hear out of my left ear.

I was not in pain, I was not dizzy, but my ear felt full, numb, like it was made out of rubber or plastic. And the roaring and rushing sounds had returned full blast.

Later that morning, I scheduled a teledoc appointment with my primary care physician for Wednesday afternoon.

I also left a message with my ENT. By this time, I figured it was more serious than a spaghetti dinner. Surely, the soy was not the culprit or cause of this, right?

While I waited, I did a little research. This can be a dangerous thing for me to do (Googling medical symptoms), but I'm glad I did in this case.

I found an article from a reputable source (The Cleveland Clinic) that had a single line that literally made me stand up and take action: "Sudden hearing loss is considered a medical emergency."

I spent Election Night at the ER. The lobby was eerily quiet. Seats were occupied with waiting patients. A corner television aired a Friends rerun, but the volume was too low for me to hear.

Everyone who interacted with me that evening was extremely helpful, efficient, and demonstrated genuine concern. I left the hospital with a prescription for a steroid and the faint hope that my hearing would be restored.

My ENT's office called the next day, and we scheduled an appointment for a hearing test for Thursday.

In the meantime, my world shrunk to the size of a crappy soy ball.

My communication with my students was limited to emails. I couldn't watch the news or listen to music. I couldn't hear Feldenkrais lessons on my tablet.

The house was oddly quiet--and leaving the house was disorienting for me. I was afraid of not being able to hear emergency sirens while driving.

I did stop by Fresh Thyme for a few things. I couldn't hear the background music playing in the store, only the roaring in my ear and the loud humming of the freezer and refrigerator units.

I spent a lot of time reading and found great comfort in my meditation practice.

I was facing uncertainty, and the stark reality that I could not hear in a hearing world.

The hearing test on Thursday did not go well. My hearing in my left ear was far worse than in my right, and my ENT was concerned about the numbness I was experiencing in my left ear. He gave me an additional prescription for the same steroid to extend the duration. He also suggested scheduling an MRI to rule out a tumor, and asked me to return in two weeks for a follow-up test.

No explanations were offered--no diagnosis--just more uncertainty, more wait-and-see. And, uh...TUMOR?

In the meantime, I continued to practice. It was the only thing that kept me moored in the present moment. I even took a trip to Bloomington on Friday. The weather was gorgeous, and I hadn't been to the Tibetan Mongolian Buddhist Cultural Center since late February because of the pandemic.

Walking the grounds was the medicine I needed. I had sent messages to a couple of my dharma friends letting them know what was happening. I appreciated the support of their prayers and the opportunity to slow way down, enjoy the beautiful surroundings, and appreciate what I had rather than worrying about what I didn't have.

I walked around the Kalachakra Stupa and prayer wheels. I stood under long rows of colorful prayer flags and gazed at the clear blue sky. I wandered around the Lotus Pond dotted with autumn leaves.

Geshe Kunga was setting up for a puja the next day in the temple. He invited me in--I lit a row of candles on the altar. He gave me a tangerine and a bottle of orange juice and let me sit quietly in the temple to meditate for a while.

Later, I chatted with my friend Staci in the Gift Shop. It was good to be in this beautiful place with warm, kind-hearted people.

After a few days, I noticed that the steroids did help. The constant roaring and rushing subsided, and slowly, but surely, my hearing in my left ear started to improve.

I wasn't sleeping well (one of the many side effects of the medication), but my hearing was returning, so I wasn't complaining at all! I'd rather lose a little sleep than my hearing.

Late night Feldenkrais lessons and early morning meditation sessions were calming and self-regulating practices as well.

I see a holistic chiropractor every few weeks as part of my self care routine. I'm so glad I happened to have an appointment with her on Friday afternoon (two weeks after the initial symptoms).

Dr. Amanda was the only practitioner who acknowledged that the soy could very well have been the catalyst for all of this. It may not have caused the hearing loss, but it may have triggered the inflammation that led to it.

She focused on adjusting my cervical spine, and gave me a couple of supplements to foster drainage and boost the immune system as I was tapering off of the steroids.

That was my big worry with all of this--what if the hearing deteriorates after I stop taking the meds? How badly will they suppress my immune system? COVID numbers are off the charts right now and currently spiking in our local area.

At any rate, it felt good to be validated,  "heard," and acknowledged. I left this appointment feeling hopeful. Dr. Amanda did not mention anything about possible tumors, the possibility of cochlear implants, or brain surgery, which was also a relief! 

I also left feeling extremely grateful. Over the last two weeks, as my hearing steadily improved, I relished everyday, ordinary sounds that I typically take for granted.

The sound of Zora purring

Maya softly snoring on my lap

The sound of the furnace kicking on through the vents

A  ringing telephone

Birdsong

Crickets

Rustling leaves

The steady hum of a neighbor's lawn mower

The crackling sound of burning leaves

And yes, even the sound of the alarm clock 

My world was slowly beginning to expand beyond the size of a toxic soy ball, and I was ecstatic about that! I will also never, ever, ever consume processed soy again! And I have asked Jim to never purchase it again :). 

I am grateful to be recovering.

I am grateful that I can hear!

I am grateful to have kind, supportive friends.

I am grateful to have a practice that I can rely on and take comfort in during challenging times.

I am grateful for multiple modalities and approaches in health care, and I am grateful that I had access to much-needed health care--I needed a hearing test...steroids...a spinal adjustment...and natural supplements for healing.

It is November....and I am grateful!

Thank you for reading or listening today. While you're here, please visit middlemoonmalas.com to view the current online collection of one-of-a-kind malas.

Oops! Mistakes as Opportunities for Practice October 20, 2020 15:45

If you prefer to listen to this blog post, click HERE.

I've been working on a mala design for a friend who will be opening a new studio in January. It is a Tiger Eye mala with alternating 8 and 6mm beads.

When I finished stringing the 108th bead and brought the two ends together to attach the guru, I noticed that something was off...WAY off. The beads weren't lining up correctly, and with different bead sizes, this is particularly critical.

I tried tugging the mala on one side to even out the difference, but no luck. When I counted the beads again, I realized my mistake. I had miscalculated the midpoint of the design, so the balance of the entire design was off kilter. If I had attached the guru and tassel, the beads wouldn't have lined up properly, and the whole design would have been a little wonky. Five hours of steady work and time wasted....or, maybe not.

I resigned myself to starting over with this mala. As I was snipping each knot between every bead this morning, I realized that mistakes offer valuable insights, blessings, and opportunities.

*Opportunity to Revise:

To revise means "to see again." When I taught creative writing at a local high school years ago, I encouraged my students to revise their poems and stories. The first draft is rarely the best draft--it is merely a starting point--a beginning to something even better.

This is true for other endeavors, too, even designing malas.

I have a work tray that I use to layout potential designs, but this tray isn't foolproof. Errors can still occur--as they did with this Tiger Eye mala. However, it also gave me an opportunity to reconsider the original arrangement of the beads, and the possibility to substitute a few different beads to add more visual interest to the design.

This mistake actually gave me the opportunity to improve this mala for my friend, to make it even better than the initial design.

*Opportunity to Practice:

It's not unusual for me to practice mantra recitations while I'm stringing a mala, especially when I know in advance who it will belong to.

Often, when I'm working on a custom mala design, I will recite a mantra while I'm working and offer the merits of the practice to the recipient of the mala.

Restringing this design will give me even more time to devote to my own practice, and it will allow me to dedicate even more benefits to my friend and to the success of her new business. 

By reframing this mistake, it allows me to see it as a blessing rather than an inconvenience or burden. It also gives me something to look forward to, and it adds purpose to the work and time required to complete this design.

*Opportunity to Generate Kindness

I am my own worst enemy when it comes to making mistakes. I can be extremely self-critical and unnecessarily harsh with myself.

I can be kind, forgiving, and compassionate with others when they make mistakes, but quite brutal with myself, even with minor errors.

My inner critic can be quick to lash out over the smallest mistakes: misspelling a word in a Facebook post or comment, forgetting something (phone, wallet, etc) when I leave the house, screwing up a dinner recipe, or remembering something ridiculously minor or stupid that I said or did many years ago.

Practicing self-kindness is just as important as practicing kindness toward others. Making mistakes give me an opportunity to demonstrate LESS judgment and criticism and MORE tenderness, gentleness, and compassion toward myself. 

I've carved out some time later this afternoon to work on this new-and-improved mala for my friend. I'm looking forward to the opportunity to revise and improve, to dedicate time and effort to the future success of her biz, and to direct much-needed kindness, patience, and compassion toward myself as I restring her mala.

Thanks for reading or listening! If you haven't checked out the MMM online collection in a while, click here. Several new designs have been added recently. Do something nice for yourself or a loved one, and support a small Hoosier business, too.   

(Here is the revised mala design. I wound up changing the sutra and tassel color--from navy blue to honey flax)