Hockey Stick Moment

I've decided to stop.

In his introductory video to meditation, Mingyur Rinpoche tells the story of being thirteen years old and still gripped by the panic disorder that had been haunting him since childhood. After years of half-committed meditation, one day he asked himself a question. Do I want to stay this way?

The answer was obviously no. So he decided to take the disorder and use it as fuel for practice. He committed to three days of solitary meditation in his room, away from his practice community. After the three days the panic disorder was gone.

I overcame a panic disorder in my twenties. I worked through a nervous breakdown in my thirties. In my forties I turned the crisis of single motherhood into an opportunity for more self awareness. Now starting my fifties, I have a new challenge. I want to liberate myself from this chronic misery, and financial stress. I want to use my writing to bring something valuable to the world.

Because of the responsibilities of parenthood, I can't do a three day solitary retreat. But yesterday I made  decision to turn away from the tv, the internet and other distractions and sit as much as I possibly can with this fear.

Re-reading the JOL I came across something that for some reason had never made an impression on me before. It is a description of how we develop "the emotional body." When our thalamus perceives an object that causes us fear, a tiger, or even just a mental image of something that frightens us, it sends a red alert messages to the amygdala and the neo-cortex. The amygdala is closer, so it gets the message first. It tells our body to run or fight. And our body immediately responds with heightened heartbeat, and adrenalyzed muscles. The neo-cortex however, only receives the alert after out body has started responding.

If we don't run or fight, the neo-cortex assesses the situation, and sends the message back to all the body parts, that all is well.

This is what meditation, fundamentally is. The decision not to run or fight. The decision to retrain our responses, so that only the real threats, not the feedback delusions that we've been conditioned with, get through. The decision to tell our analytical brain that we are fine.

We are making the conscious decision, for ourselves, and for all that we are capable of influencing that the recursive cycle of fight and flight is over. That we want peace.  For ourselves and for everyone in the world.

Running and fighting, however, are no longer really fleeing from tigers, or entering armed battle. For the contemporary urban dweller it's more usually running towards a source of distraction, or bickering with family and people on facebook.

If I make the decision to stop for a day or two. If I make the decision to sit with whatever is gnawing at me, I send an important message to myself.

I am well.

No matter what happens in the next six months.  I am well.

This wellness, I hope, will allow me to open my mind and see the way out of my problems.

This wellness, I hope, becomes the ice that I skate on, on a frozen pond. From there I have that hockey stick, exponential graph, progress.

And then I'm out of this cycle.

Lovingkindness

I feel vulnerable writing about love.But I'm learning this week that it's that very vulnerability that is our greatest source of power.

Pema Chodron writes about locating that tender spot and using it as a crack to let the energy of bhodicitta enter. Earlier this week I listened to a talk by Edward Kelley on Tergar. When he asked Mingyur Rinpoche how it is his life seems to unfold so effortlessly, Rinpoche said "motivation." I know that the happiness of all beings is his point of motivation.

If I use this point of vulnerability as my motivation, and turn it into an omnipresent desire to build happiness for myself and everyone, then perhaps my life will unfold with more ease.

It all seems so simple, but we spend most of our lives running away from that vulnerable point.The trick is to find a way to lock in to the fear, loneliness and alienation in a way that the lovingkindness becomes second nature. Becomes something that our brain produces without thought.

I will approach this slowly, like open awareness. Rest in lovingkindness for moments throughout the day.

This is a good day to start this practice. My son's thirteenth birthday. My desire for him to be happy is already naturally strong.

May this be the foundation for both our happy lives.

Where is it coming from?

Yesterday I went to a mini-retreat at the Tergar Centre.  It's the last small retreat before the Joy of Living -level 2 weekend retreat. It was sort of a free for all retreat. We went back over basic concepts, like open awareness. And watched a DVD on the concept of retreat, the outer, inner and secret. As we practiced on this inner retreat, Minyur our Tibetan meditation leader, encouraged us to start some light analysis of our practice.

The question she encouraged us to keep asking ourselves, as we accessed the deepening calm that grows with a diligent meditation practice, is "where is this coming from? Is it coming from inside me, outside me?"

I've been struggling the last day with fear. A job I thought I would have in September doesn't look like it's going to materialize, so I'm struggling with financial anxiety. During the retreat it seemed to be okay.  I sat quietly with my fear, even felt a little energized by my ability to just sit with it. But last night I felt like I was in its iron grip.

This morning I seem to be able to access my calm again. It's like the fear, which I know comes from my desire to be happy, is a sort of nucleus, and the calm awareness is this protective outer layer. When I ask where it's coming from I remember that I sense this awareness that is both in me and outside of me.

Physically I can feel it in my middle forehead. I've always been able to do that. But I've never labelled it in quite the same way I do now.

Where does this come from? From now I'm going to call it storage. The storage of all the goodness in me and in the world. I forget, but I have access to this storage when I need it.

And when I want it.

One of the the most challenging aspects of this meditation practice is to stay close to my desire for happiness. It's so easy to get caught up in the other desires. But if I stay close to this, I will cultivate the habit of calm awareness that is the foundation of happiness, of love, and of strength.

Shining Wisdom

After five months following level one of the Tergar program I'm starting to feel the fruits of my practice. I've weathered a challenging week with a difficult person, and managed to come out of it with nothing more than a few scrapes and bruises.
  The pond outside my bedroom shines with morning sunrise, and I recognize this as the wisdom that we all have access to if we can only cultivate the skill of being.
  Last night, I happened to flip to my favourite clip from the Karate Kid 2010, the one where they see the nun mirroring the snake. She controls the snake because her mind is still, and as Jackie Chan explains "there is a big difference between doing nothing and being still."
  One of the most profound insights I've had this week is that all the irritation and controlled rage I feel when I'm around my mother is really just my desire to be happy. These are strong feeling because my mind is so strong. But that same strong mind that has these uncomfortable feelings is the mind that is capable of happiness and wisdom, of profound and sustainable peace. This deep and joyful comfort and wisdom that I have moments, minutes, sometimes hours of, is really just the flip side of all the pain and discomfort.
  Yesterday morning I saw a beautiful painting by the 19th century America painter William Homer.

When I first saw it, I believed it was sunset. But this was painted at Prout's Neck, not far from where I am right now, so I know it must be sunrise. Beneath all that turbulence and the signs of an upcoming storm, beneath the blood red beginnings of the morning light, there is a calm. 

There is a beautiful day on the horizon.