Blessing of Brokenness

The holiday season is loaded for me, like it probably is for many.  My mother loved Christmas, and I adored my mother.  In my childhood home, Christmas was a time of favorite recipes, family, tradition, music, light and celebration.  Often, it was also a time of gathering in strays.  My parents were from a tiny town in West Texas, but moved across the country and around the world for school and work.

Our family celebrated Christmas in several states and just as many countries, usually without extended family.  My shy mother knew what it was to be lonely and away from home, so we always had a motley crew of “extras”.  You didn't have to know my mother long or well to experience her love and be invited to a meal.  I don’t ever recall her saying, “It’s nice to meet you.”  She would look at you with her warm, brown eyes and say, “It’s so good to know you.”  And you would believe her.

I am very much a Polly Anna and, for most of my life I couldn't understand that happiness and suffering could coexist.  I only recently realized that for as long as I can remember there has been an undercurrent of sadness and longing beneath the cookie exchanges, endless decorations and festive cantatas.

Once I was grown, our family had a string of devastating Christmases.  An uncle with a punctured lung 1,000 miles away and all alone, the return of cancer that would claim my sweet little Mommy’s life, my hospitalization leading up to, and the Christmas day birth of our tiny 1 ½ pound son.  Those are the Christmases during which I would expect to suffer depression.  In those times, I would be gentle on myself when the tears came.  Remarkably, though, those were the Christmases that came easy.  It was easy to let go of the perfect meal with the perfect place-settings and the perfectly dressed children behaving with perfect manners. It was easy to decline invitations to parties that, however fun, would tax our energy and drive our sugar-fueled bodies further into exhaustion.  It was easy to know that love isn't the perfect package under the tree.  During the difficult holidays,  it was easy to crumple into God’s arms.  It was easy to accept God’s grace in the form of meals from friends and neighbors.  It was easy to come close to the unfathomable mystery of Christmas.

Those were what the Celtics call ‘thin spaces’, times when we are able to experience a deep sense of God in our everyday world.  We were right in the middle of this messy, noisy, painful world; our emotions were raw, we were too weary to put up a mask to the world, too worn to make ourselves believe that we had the answers or the ability to heal ourselves.  It was natural to focus on the promise of an infant born to a young girl of humble means; a girl that was willing to empty herself of knowing the answers.  In Mary,  there was room for God to send hope.  In our brokenness,  it is so much easier to see God than in times peace.

It has been almost 9 years since the last of our “hospital” holidays.  For most of that time,  I have suffered from a pretty acute depression.  Every year it would show up and knock me off my feet.  I am a happy person!  I have warm memories of a loving mother, that tiny premature boy baby is healthy, rambunctious and up to my shoulder!  How could I be depressed?!  The depression was bad, but my judgment and lack of patience with myself was the really devastating part.

The sadness still comes, but now I use it as I would use a meditation chime.  I no longer down peppermint lattes and crank up Christmas carols in an effort to trump up artificial joy.  Now use the little clench in my heart as a reminder of God’s big love for me.  I bathe myself in that grace.  I open my heart to my own suffering and the suffering of others. Lord knows I’m no Mary, but like her, I allow myself to be an empty vessel.  I can relax in not knowing how God will use me or in which of my many words, glances or actions God will send comfort, hope or inspiration.

“My soul magnifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my savior.”  Luke 1:46-47

Set Your Anchor

I haven't written since the end of the 31 day challenge. To be honest, I was tired by the end of October!  I was also unsure of where this little project was heading and if it was really making a difference. What I realized over the last couple of weeks is that writing for Leaning into Peace makes a difference for me. It helps me stay focused on meditation and the practice of loving kindness not only on the cushion, but throughout the day in every action and interaction (ideally.) It also gives me space to process and appreciate the impact this practice has on my life, the life of my family and society in general. Finally, it forces me to empty myself of my egoic concerns and rely unquestionably on God for guidance, inspiration, and grace.

I am a Christian; that is my faith language and the path I choose to travel (although I owe much to teachers from other traditions!) You might be a Christian as well; protestant or catholic, practicing or not practicing. Maybe you are Hindi, Buddhist, Muslim, Jewish, Sufi, agnostic, or atheist; practicing or not. I will not try to convert you.

It’s obvious if you are anywhere in the western world that we are approaching Christmas. In a couple of weeks, Christians will enter the season of advent. As we tell our children, “we are preparing to come close to the mystery of Jesus.” You can’t just walk up to a mystery; you have to get ready!

I’m going to be writing, let’s say 3 times a week, on getting ready. You need not be Christian for these thoughts to apply. We are entering a time of year when we are bombarded from every direction with messages that we should buy more, have more, do more, BE more. It is almost impossible not to be swept up in the current. Let's take some time to explore what we really want. Let's each find and set our own anchor.

I'm holding you in the light.

Raising Kindness

I have a boy.

I have an almost 9 year old whose first word was "ball", who reads sports statistics for fun, who likes to wrestle and have nerf gun battles, who thinks bodily functions are appropriate fodder for jokes at the dinner table, and who leaves an endless trail of sweaty socks in his always-energetic wake.

I was unprepared for this.  I decorated his nursery with playful, silly monsters because I couldn't believe that boys were all that different from girls.

Of course, boy or girl, the above complement would cause my heart to swell, but somehow describing our raucous boy it is all the more gratifying.

"Always kind to everyone...makes us try to be better people."  This is my wish for everyone.  Of course, kindness is a practice.  We aren't always going to be kind to everyone.  When we aspire to do so, we are more likely to recognize kindness when it's practiced, and we are likely to notice when we are not kind.  It happens sometimes; we snap at someone, or we deride ourselves with negative self-talk.  There is no need to perpetuate the ugliness by judging or condemning ourselves further; this is a learning experience!  Notice how it makes you feel and, if possible apologize, then redouble your commitment to practice kindness. 

Just like an athlete builds up muscles and muscle memory to thrive in their sport, we can build our kindness muscles.  It takes practice, but it does become easier; even second nature, to show kindness.

****This is NOT just applicable to people who have children!!!  We are, after all, raising ourselves!!*****

I didn't really tell you how to raise kind children, but here's a 2 minute video from my parenting crush, Dr. Christine Carter of the Greater Good Science Center at Berkeley.  You may also want to read (or reread) her post on the practice of loving kindness.

I'm holding you in the light.

Retire To The Center Of Your Being

"Retire to the center of your being, which is calmness."

                          --Paramahansa Yogananda

I keep trying to verbalize the internal chaos in which I used to live.  I know that many of you are there.  At times, I would sit on my cushion and repeat a phrase, a scripture or prayer over and over, almost in a panic.  I couldn't relax.  I couldn't trust that everything would be okay because I was too overwhelmed.  I had so much fear.  What if it never got better?  What if I was never good enough?  What if I wasn't smart enough, didn't work hard enough, didn't have enough faith?  I would sit until my bell chimed, then I would go about my day, fervently repeating the same prayer over and over and over with no relief.

I think I was stubborn.  

I always thought I had solid self-esteem, but I also always felt like no one would like me as much if they really knew me.  What if people really knew how much I struggled with academics?  What if my husband  knew I was so lazy that I couldn't focus, and that was the reason the housework was never done.*  It seems crazy to me now, but evidently I believed my value came from what I could accomplish.  

Of course, that kind of makes sense because we grow up believing we have to be competitive.  We have to be better, work harder, get into a good school, build a lucrative career, have brilliant children, take exotic vacations and leave behind a big fat estate.

Hmm...this isn't where I planned to go.  I just wanted to let you know that there is hope.  "The center of your being" may be as foreign to you as mars; it may feel too far away or too scary to explore.  The center of your being; the calmness, is right there within you.  

This might be a good time to read (or reread) 7 Best Ways to Nurture Your Practice and make a commitment to practice every day.  When we practice meditation regularly, we can return with ease to a place of calm no matter what is going on around us.

I'm holding you in the light.

*turns out I'm not lazy, I just had to find my own way.  Phew!

Pain That Is Not Transformed Is Transferred

Let's do a little exercise, shall we?

Sit quietly for a minute.  Take some time to center yourself.  Breathe.  Read this paragraph and then take a minute to close your eyes and check in with your body.  Do you feel any tension?  Check in with your heart.  Is it steady?  beating quickly?  How about your brain?  Is it agitated?  restless?  distracted?  Don't worry, this won't take long.  Take a moment to gather all your pieces; all your attention right here.

Now take a moment to think about your day (or yesterday.)  Was there any time that you felt hurt?  neglected?  less than?

Did you snap at anyone?  Did you speak or act in a hurtful manner?  If you did (and I'm pretty sure you did even if only in your heart), try to remember what feelings were at the root of your unkindness.  You might have been irritated, rushed, distracted, or defensive.  There's also a pretty good chance that, under that, you were hurt.

"Pain that is not transformed is transferred."  I love this quote from Franciscan Friar Richard Rohr.  Another way to say it is "hurt people hurt people."  This is important to remember because we are all on both the giving and receiving end of pain.

This afternoon I overheard my daughter saying that her friends make fun of the way I cook.  Ouch.  Before I could even think, tears burned my eyes.  I wanted to let anger spring up, and a very immature part of me wanted to think ugly thoughts about the friends.  I took a deep breath.  I allowed myself to feel the hurt.  I acknowledged the anger.  I also reminded myself that I DO cook differently; it's not necessarily better or worse.  (Okay, I make almost EVERYTHING from scratch.  How can these children NOT APPRECIATE that?!  Sly grin.)  Maybe I actually needed a little ego check.

How do I know when I have (or am about to) snap at someone out of my own pain?  Unless I am very tired or hungry, (and even sometimes when I am very tired or hungry) I just assume that if I am lashing out at someone it is because my carefully crafted self-concept is being threatened.  Gah! The whole point of practicing meditation is self-transcendence!  When I remember this, I can relax and understand that I don't have to be offended.  I don't have to waste energy or time trying to protect my image and my identity.  I can just be open to what is.

This doesn't mean that I'm a doormat.  For years I practiced self-denial because I thought that was the "nice" and peaceful thing to do.  No, this isn't being a pushover, but recognizing my own pain and also the pain in others; showing compassion to myself and also showing compassion and respect to those with whom I disagree.  My suffering is no longer cause to make someone else suffer, it is a connection that binds me to them, it is a bridge from my heart to theirs.

I know you are not a comment-leaving bunch.  I'm a little concerned this post was discombobulated, and I hope you'll tell me if that's the case.  I'll happily offer clarification and I promise I won't lash out:)

I'm holding you in the light.

Teachable Moments

“…feelings like disappointment, embarrassment, irritation, resentment, anger, jealousy, and fear, instead of being bad news, are actually very clear moments that teach us where it is that we’re holding back. They teach us to perk up and lean in when we feel we’d rather collapse and back away. They’re like messengers that show us, with terrifying clarity, exactly where we’re stuck. This very moment is the perfect teacher, and, lucky for us, it’s with us wherever we are.”  

--Pema Chodron

Self Image as a Stumbling Block

A big part of cultivating peace is letting go of attachments, but maybe that doesn't make sense.  After all, we hear a lot about healthy attachments, and attachment parenting is a good thing, so maybe that phrase, "letting go of attachments" is confusing.  Pema Chodron describes it as letting go of things that "hook" you. I like that.  Some of our most humongous hooks are around our self-image.

Yesterday a 2nd grader was excited to tell me it was his birthday.  That's exciting stuff--he's 7.  All of the children nearby were piping up with their ages and birthdays when a boy looked up and said, "how old are YOU?!"  I kind of laughed and half-chided him before responding "41 and a half!"  "Oh!" he laughed, "I thought maybe you'd say 50!!"

This could have sent me spiraling into depression and, I have to admit, I did think "I've GOT to start wearing sunscreen!"  but later, when I was relaying the story to my husband, I thought about the boys perspective.  He is at a place in life when birthdays ARE SO AWESOME!!  Every day, every minute, that you are older than someone is like a badge of honor.  He may very well have thought that I was CRUSHING the birthday game!

Maybe not.  but it doesn't really matter.

So often, we hurt because we completely misunderstand what someone is saying.  We hear though our own filter. We get defensive.  We hurt.  We mistakenly place our value outside of ourselves and allow our insecurities to color our thoughts and interactions.  Every one of us has value.  We all have something to share.