Category Archives: attention

December: A season for cultivating joy through simplicity and gratitude…

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Photo by Skyler Ewing on Pexels.com

December has come to be one of my favorite months…Perhaps it is the anticipation of snow, the excitement of the holiday season and the colors of red and white…Or the joy of thinking of loved ones and what they would like for presents, the twinkling lights on the streets or the Christmas music…I love the holiday movies (that always end well!), baking treats, making chocolate bark with my daughter or stringing beads together to create unique pieces and lighting up our Christmas tree.

I’m well aware that this is a highly commercialized season, where we are constantly bombarded to go out and get more, to buy our way into happiness and stoke the craving for more. But it doesn’t have to be.

December is also the month of solstice, of quieting down, finding warmth and solace in the loving qualities of the heart like generosity, gratitude and appreciation, and of celebrating being together and sharing laughter and memories. Of being intentional of what we do and say, of being mindful of our resources and how we spend them. We can start small, and take that first step towards reigning back the momentum of habit, by inviting mindfulness and appreciating the simple beauty of this season. We can create boundaries with our time, finances and energy that protect us from over-exertion and help us cultivate nourishment and peace.

So, the next time that you are outside, slow down and notice the coolness of the air, the movement of the trees, the sound of the birds, the spectacular colors of the sunrises and the sunsets, and the twinkling of the stars in the cold still nights. When running errands, take in the sounds, smells, tastes and sights. When in grocery lines or traffic, practice sending metta towards others: wishing that they too have joy and peace in their holiday season. When frustrated, remember patience and kindness. When overwhelmed, remember the support of the ground and the breath. When entangled in clinging, remember to pause and relax.

I write this as much as a reminder to me as to you. For we need the support of each other to awaken together and live with greater compassion, wisdom and kindness. I leave you today with this winter blessing from Brother David Steindl-Rast:

May You Grow Still Enough

May you grow still enough to hear the small noises earth makes in preparing for the long sleep of winter, so that you yourself may grow calm and grounded deep within.

May you grow still enough to hear the trickling of water seeping into the ground, so that your soul may be softened and healed, and guided in its flow. May you grow still enough to hear the splintering of starlight in the winter sky and the roar at earth’s fiery core.

May you grow still enough to hear the stir of a single snowflake in the air, so that your inner silence may turn into hushed expectation.

 —  Brother David Steindl-Rast

Photo by Martin Mariani on Pexels.com

Wishing you love, peace, laughter and joy, Shuba

An equanimous mind is a spacious mind…

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Equanimity was the last session in the four week series on the brahmaviharas I led recently. All week, I held equanimity in the back of my mind, trying to settle into the flavor and balance of equanimity. Sometimes, equanimity appeared to have a calm abiding quality to it – like the peacefulness of going with the flow, knowing you are safe and going to be OK. One of the days of the week, the roof of our classroom started to leak. The students took it in their stride. The custodians appeared in minutes to fix the leak at least temporarily. I was struck by the presence of equanimity. Roof, Leak, No Problem! My students seemed so positive, it felt like they knew that we would get through it together.

At other times, equanimity seemed to have a grounded quality – still like the mountains and able to move easily like the branches of the trees in the wind, even as they wore their changing colors that would soon fade. We went on a hike that weekend and I remembered Joseph Goldstein’s words in a recent talk: “Whatever has the nature to arise will also pass away…”. On that late afternoon, it was so clear that the leaves were falling. The current in the stream was moving. So were the clouds and for a moment, it appeared that the entire mountain was shimmering.

I was touched by the beauty of impermanence and the ability of awareness to hold it without turning away. My daughter was with me and I was struck too by the fact that she too was born and therefore of the nature to change, transform and eventually move away. It made this moment that much more poignant and precious!

At other moments, equanimity appeared empty – arising when the conditions were right. Not mine, not something I could force, but more of an invitation to drop into, that was becoming more available, as I was becoming more available to equanimity. This too felt right – equanimity was of the nature to arise and there pass away. It made non-clinging more possible in the present moment. How can we hold on to something that is empty of inherent existence?

And then the times when equanimity seemed so full of kindness; a caring that was steady and could open without turning away or shutting down. Other times, equanimity was simply a space empty of any greed, hatred or ill-will. A deep settling into a place of non-contention that we call peace.

Wisdom tells me I am nothing. Love tells me I am everything. And between the two, my life flows…

-Nisargadatta Maharaj

We can appreciate this equanimous mind when it is present and that in itself conditions future such moments of equanimity to arise. In this way, we are sowing the seeds of mindfulness and kindness and when the conditions are right, these can bloom into the beautiful flowers of compassion, wisdom and equanimity.

So many flavors of equanimity…As you pause and reflect on your own experience with equanimity, what comes up for you? I would love to hear from you.

May your mindfulness continue to grow and may you experience many moments of equanimity and joy!

With care, Shuba

Exploring Stillness: Why We Meditate…

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I have recently returned from a three week trip to India to visit with family and friends. In one of my meetings with an old friend, my friend told me that he was curious about meditation and why it worked… Paraphrasing his question, what I heard was: Why do we meditate? How does a simple act of sitting in silence lead to such transformation? Why does stillness lead to insight?

It is hard to describe meditation to a non-meditator, but I will give it a try. We all have ways in which we experience stillness – a quieting of the mind’s chatter and a settling into a deeper sense of peace. Perhaps for some of us, it is being in nature, going for a walk or those moments when we encounter something larger than our-selves and we are in awe.

In meditation, we train to connect with this stillness, this sense of deeper peace and well being in an ongoing way. A simple act of sitting (walking, lying down or standing: the four postures mentioned by the Buddha, for sustaining mindfulness) is really an invitation: inviting the mind to settle. As the mind settles, it is like mud settling in a pond, leaving clear water – one in which you can see all the way through. And we start to see our habitual patterns, the ways in which we operate in the world, and the stories and perceptions that shape our reality. And we start to see these gaps in the reality we have constructed for ourselves through the stories. The stories, the thoughts, the perceptions start to feel less solid, less personal and less enticing.

And as the mind’s grip on these loosen, something so incredible starts to happen: we start to drop our stories and start to show up for our experience without all the expectations and ideas that are habitual. The comparing, judging and fixing aspects of the mind quiet down and the wisdom of the heart starts to emerge…

And the heart has this amazing, innate capacity to be awake, present, compassionate, steady… the heart can step out of the habits of the mind and the heart can be with discomfort and pain without turning away. As our meditation practice grows, our trust in this capacity of the heart to respond with wisdom increases.

At some point, we hit some snags mostly created by the mind: ideas of what meditation should look like, what peace should feel like and some wanting to control our reality by getting rid of what is difficult. This is where wise spiritual friends and a teacher can be so helpful: to remind us that like everything else, these ideas too are to be released. To remind us to lean into what brings us suffering, and to explore what it is like to let go and experience freedom. This further deepens our practice and this awareness, inseparable from love, ebbs into all parts of our lives so that increasingly our life itself becomes a meditation on attuning to emergence…

That is why I sit in meditation every morning… and I can’t help but think of Mary Oliver’s words…

Meditation is old and honorable, so why should I
not sit, every morning of my life, on the hillside,
looking into the shining world? Because, properly
attended to, delight, as well as havoc, is suggestion.
Can one be passionate about the just, the
ideal, the sublime, and the holy, and yet commit
to no labor in its cause? I don’t think so.

All summations have a beginning, all effect has a
story, all kindness begins with the sown seed.
Thought buds toward radiance. The gospel of
light is the crossroads of — indolence, or action.

Be ignited, or be gone.

-Mary Oliver, What I have learned so far

May we sow seeds of kindness and may we tend to the wisdom of our hearts…

With love, Shuba

Tending to the soft garden within…

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There is so much happening in this world right now that feels challenging to many of us. So much seems outside our control – and so much of what we believe in – equal rights for all, respect for each other, freedom to be ourselves – seems to be on the line. So how do we practice mindfulness at a time like this?

I can’t help thinking of words from Rumi:

Outside, the freezing desert night,
This other night inside grows warm, kindling.
Let the landscape be covered with thorny crust.
We have a soft garden in here.

Along with the challenges. there is also so much beauty around us. For along with the ten thousand sorrows, we can also open to the ten thousand joys in life…We can choose where we place our attention. And as the saying goes, where the attention goes, energy flows. We can choose to linger in those moments where ease, beauty, wellness and contentment is available. The moments when we are lifted up by the kind words or smile of another or the warm embrace of a friend. The moments when generosity abounds and human spirit prevails. Moments when we are touched by awe and wonder – a sunset, the cracked ice on the pavement, the cloud formations, the sound of a bird call. And, we can choose to be kind.

Kindness is the language that we all need most right now. Individually and collectively – choosing to be kind to self and others, practicing forgiveness and letting go, remembering to pause and step back from the cycle of reactivity is what can help us bring authenticity, wisdom, compassion and love into this world. And we can begin with looking within ourselves. What are we holding on to? What can we let go of?

In Attadanda sutta (Sn 4.15, translated from the Pali by Andrew Olendzki), the Buddha says:

Seeing people locked in conflict,

I became completely distraught.

But then I discerned here a thorn

— Hard to see — lodged deep in the heart.

It’s only when pierced by this thorn

That one runs in all directions.

So if that thorn is taken out —

one does not run, and settles down.

So, what thorns can be discerned and released? What can be healed and nourished? And can we move in this world with kindness? May this inquiry serve us all and help us move towards freedom.

With love, Shuba

The beauty, ordinariness and extraordinariness of not knowing…

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Photo by Autumn Mott Rodeheaver on Unsplash

The more I practice mindfulness in my daily life, the more I’m struck by the ordinariness and extraordinariness of each moment. It’s like this rewiring that is happening so slowly that I can’t see the mechanics of it but I can feel that something is changing, slowly, gradually and over time. Like the turning of grapes into wine – a metaphor so often used by Rumi.

When grapes turn
to wine, they long for our ability to change.

When stars wheel
around the North Pole,
they are longing for our growing consciousness.

– Rumi

With mindfulness, we start to loosen our habitual ways of categorizing our experience as like or dislike as we often have a tendency to do. And we are somehow left with more openness, more space and more choice in responding. The definition of relationships and the expectations of ourselves and others start to fall away and we start to see clearly. Like removing a pair of glasses that were foggy and we didn’t know we had them on!

When we experience each moment directly in this embodied way, there seems to be this incredible newness – a sort of not knowing that seems to flavor our experience. Suddenly each moment feels so much richer – without needing words to describe it or label it. Simple acts like cooking, taking a walk, talking to a partner, working on an interesting problem or meeting with a friend take on a new hue.

We also start to become aware of this incredible vulnerability that underlies all of our lives – we don’t know what could happen tomorrow, or in an hour from now, or even next moment. We might think we do, but actually we don’t. Not really. This not knowing, when seen through the lens of kindness and empty of the ideas of me and mine, suddenly feels so liberating and tender. When we truly experience the truth of this vulnerability, how can we not reach out and help each other? How can we not take care of this body, our body, that feels so fragile at times? How can we not appreciate the blessings in our lives, the people who show up for us and the sheer abundance that Earth provides us with, no questions asked? Mary Oliver aptly says:

Pay attention.

Be astonished.

Tell about it.

– Mary Oliver

So this is my invitation: can you simply pause in this moment, breathe and notice what is happening? Can you take in the sheer miracle of staying alive? Each leaf that is falling to the ground is imploring and reminding you of the truth of letting go. Can you let go, truly let go and surrender to this moment? It is a huge task. And yet it is ours, and not by the century or the year, but by the hours (Mary Oliver).

With love, Shuba

Musings on the sidewalk poem…

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I first came across this poem about a hole in the sidewalk, titled ‘Autobiography in five short chapters‘ by Portia Nelson, in Mark Nepo’s book Finding Inner Courage, a few years ago. It is a profound poem and somehow stuck in my head and I keep finding meaning from it in layers. Today’s blog is a commentary on this poem from my own experience…I have taken the liberty of splitting up the poem here. Thank you Portia for this gem!

AUTOBIOGRAPHY IN FIVE CHAPTERS
I
I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I fall in.
I am lost … I am hopeless.
It isn’t my fault.
It takes forever to find a way out.
II
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend I don’t see it.
I fall in again.
I can’t believe I’m in the same place.
But it isn’t my fault.
It still takes a long time to get out.

Anyone on a spiritual journey knows that the first step to freedom is to stop blaming others and accept responsibility: The first couple of paragraphs speak to this journey of moving towards acceptance.

III
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I see it is there.
I still fall in … it’s a habit.
My eyes are open.
I know where I am.
It is my fault.
I get out immediately.

The third paragraph of course makes sense. Those of us who start paying attention to our habitual ways of being, know that we keep finding ourselves over and over in similar patterns. And as we move towards freedom, even if we make the same mistakes, it becomes easier to recover and know where we are. We learn to become intimate with our own suffering – which is what the Buddha points to in the first noble truth.

IV
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.

And just as there is suffering, there is also the end of suffering! As we start to know our own habits, we are slowly able to walk around the holes – to see them coming and take appropriate (skillful) action.

V
I walk down another street.

Finally, this past month, I realized what the last paragraph is talking about: we become so acquainted with our patterns and disenchanted with them, knowing where they will lead, that we realize there is a different way of doing things! We could walk down another street! We have the choice to not take the same street anymore. The new street may have other obstacles of course, but we are no longer stuck in our old patterns. We have the choice to try something new. This newness has a taste of equanimity, of wonder, of ease and of freedom!

How does this poem speak to you?

With love, Subha

Pause and Relax…

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This morning I have a chance to do just that – Pause and Relax! It is a snow day and I’m home because school was cancelled. So, I could wake up later than usual and luxuriate in what might be the last snow of the season. The bird activity outside our window is at a high point and I feel the distinct absence of urgency – nothing else feels as pressing as simply being here, watching the birds with my morning chai and banana muffin.

Photo by Anji Sharma

Sometimes this pause comes our way due to circumstances (like this snow!) and at other times, it is a choice we make – to pause and slow down the activity. We do this as an act of care towards ourselves and others – to allow the reactivity to calm down, to notice the momentum that we are almost always caught in. We then have the space to allow the wisdom of our body and heart-mind to inform our next moment.

Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom.

Viktor E. frankl

Sometimes, we are able to notice the impact of this pause, the freedom, in a big way: maybe we stop ourselves from saying something unkind or we restrain ourselves from hasty action. Other times, the impact of these pauses are imperceptible – a slight shifting in the tide – listening instead of speaking, settling instead of urging, tasting instead of swallowing, seeing instead of scanning past. And somehow, like the ripples in a pond created by a small pebble, the peace that is possible as a result of these tiny pauses ripple out into our worlds – we can show up with greater calmness, compassion and wisdom.

Does this feel true to you in your practice? Does pausing and relaxing/settling into the moment bring greater peace? I invite you to reflect on this inquiry, as a way of sustaining mindfulness. This morning, watching the wind through the pine trees, I feel tremendous gratitude and appreciation for the many gifts of being alive. What is present for you in this moment?

With love,

Shuba

Attune to Emergence…

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It has been a while since I wrote in this space. As a high school teacher, the first couple of months of the school year is a busy time for me – getting through the first quarter of school schedule. And somehow, now that November is here, I am able to breathe a bit more easily – knowing that Thanksgiving break is around the corner.

A lot has happened in these couple of months in terms of writing and teaching. Firstly, my reflections from retreat this summer was published in the Valley Insight newsletter, thanks to the support and encouragement of my teacher and friend Doreen Schweizer. And then, it was picked up by the Barre center of Buddhist Studies (BCBS) and published in their sangha newsletter with my permission. This came about because the BCBS director receives our very own Valley Insight newsletter! This was definitely a surprising event – both in how this unfolded and what a small and connected world we live in. You can find it here, reprinted exactly from ours.

Earlier this Fall, I felt some sadness – the momentum of my learning and teaching during my teacher certification program had slowed and I missed the intensity of the learning. I also welcomed this opening of flexibility in choosing what I listened to and practiced in terms of dharma and the time to delve into what interested me. It has been a lovely surprise for me to have this time open up in this new way. I have continued offering a monthly drop-in series which has been a gift for me in my own practice thanks to the generosity of yogis who have showed up for them. You can find my recordings under guided meditations tab. I have also co-taught a monthly three-part series on Insight dialogue which is my new passion!

Insight dialogue makes insight meditation inter-relational. Developed by Greg Kramer, this is a series of guidelines that combine mindfulness, concentration and insight/wisdom to bring to our lives, especially in relationships both with ourselves and others. The guidelines are Pause, Relax, Open, Attune to emergence, Listen Deeply and Speak the truth. The book by Greg Kramer is a wonderful manual to the practice – and practicing with others through the series and the summer retreat has deepened my own practice and joy. It has opened up a door to the mystery in each moment by attuning to: what is changing, how am I relating to this moment and how can I soften? It is also a practice, which when combined with contemplation of suttas (scriptures) from early buddhist texts, can lead to wonderful and insightful dialogue and great joy!

I find that each day, each week, a different guideline speaks to me. Right now, it is the mystery of not knowing, of attuning to emergence. Even when I plan what is coming, I don’t know what the moment will bring. How do I stay open to that? And this opening to surprises – and how I respond to them – is teaching me a lot about myself. I had the surprise of getting Covid recently. The surprise of receiving help and support and well wishes from others. The surprise of recovering well and feeling healthy again. The surprise of friendship – my own and that of others. The surprise of opening to not knowing!

As the world tilts on its axis in many ways that are challenging, how do we open truly to not knowing and to the possibility of freedom and love in this moment, no matter what? Perhaps, the answer can be found in one such contemplation Bhadra (Lucky):

Lucky to be walking a Path
that finds peace
in the arising
and passing
away
of
each
present
moment.

Regardless
of how things
work out
or don’t.

From “The First Free Women: Poems of the Early Buddhist Nuns”
Translated by Matty Weingast
Shambhala, 2020

So, as we head into Thanksgiving, may there be many gifts in your life of opening to wonder and joy!

With gratefulness, S.

Letting in and Letting go…

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This morning, I was greeted by an unexpected sight – my 13 year old daughter making crepes for us for breakfast. Using a recipe from her French class, she made the batter, cooked the crepes, put in toppings and set up the table for us. It was a delightful sight and so were the crepes – truly yum! Another sign that my daughter is growing up.

In her gaining a couple of inches over me in what feels like overnight, I’m noticing that some things are easier. Her cheek is right next to mine when we stand – easier to give her a kiss. Easier to put my arms around her shoulders when we walk. More grown-up conversations. The love that fills my heart for her reminds me how attached I am to her. As a Buddhist I used to think in my beginning days that this practice was about being detached. And slowly, over many years of this practice, I’ve come to realize that the opposite is true. Be interested, enter the moment fully, feel the care, the incredible love. And hold it lightly.

I have been thinking a lot of T.S.Eliot’s words: to care and not to care. As parents, caring is our job. We care so much! And we learn to let go. To know that the outcome is beyond our control. We show up and we let go. Over and over. And we do this because time passes us by so quickly. Before we know it, the people in our lives grow and change. And this brings urgency into our lives – we show up now for the crepes, for the hugs, the laughter, the stories, the drama, the mundane and the sublime. And we fill our hearts with it. Who knows what tomorrow will bring?

With love, Shuba

The in-between spaces…

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I have just finished teaching my five-week course on the mindfulness trainings. Showing up for the sangha, the community of kindred spirits who were taking my class, as they showed up for me, was deeply rooting and grounding. Especially because it carried me through the month of March which always feels like a difficult (and long!) month for me. I felt nourished and grateful! I love teaching mindfulness – it helps me stay committed to my practice in an intentional way.

It has also been lovely this month of April to have a pause from teaching, to allow my practice to unfold more organically and take in the wisdom coming from many directions. Spending a few days in Washington, DC for spring break with my family was a welcome change. And as I return home, getting ready to go back to teaching next week (I am high school teacher), I feel energized and uplifted. And a sense of joy!

The joy is coming through from the constant stream of bird visitors we have had to our home – bright yellow goldfinches, pinkish red house finches, gray-black juncos, bright red cardinal, downy woodpecker, blue-gray nuthatch (I had to look this one up!) – it has been constant – and is bringing us much delight! I have been going out late evenings to hear the frogs and toads in the nearby swamp (thanks to a beaver family that transformed that eco-system!) and there has been such a raucous! One late afternoon last week, on my usual walk in the neighborhood, I caught sight of a beautifully gorgeous turkey vulture about 30 feet from me, taking flight and landing on a nearby tree. I saw the same (or different?) vulture at the exact same spot the next day while walking with my daughter – and we decided to name this special bird Majesty. Seeing Majesty made me literally stop in my tracks and stand in awe. That’s what nature does to us – opens us up to wonder and mystery.

I am fortunate to live in a beautiful landscape and the coming of spring, much anticipated by us, seems to be here. And while holding the realities of climate change and the terrible tragedies around the world that are coming from our ignoring the signs – the certainty that something is wrong if we go from winter to summer in a week – I am also holding this. This deep joy and gratitude for the life that surrounds me, right now. This moment. The daffodils starting to bloom and the day-lilies pushing themselves out of the ground. And I am remembering Mary Oliver’s words from Straight talk by Fox.

I see you in all your seasons

  making love, arguing, talking about God

as if he were an idea instead of the grass,

  instead of the stars, the rabbit caught

in one good teeth-whacking hit and brought

  home to the den. What I am, and I know it, is

responsible, joyful, thankful. I would not

  give my life for a thousand of yours.

Mary oliver

Please do check back for my next offering, which will be an intro to mindfulness course for the BIPOC community here in the Upper Valley and elsewhere in the world – the nice part of offering it online is that the world is suddenly a smaller place! And BIPOC or not, you are welcome to listen to the recordings of my guided meditations from my recent course, posted under the Guided Meditations tab.

Be well, take care and may spring be in your every step!

Namaste,

Shuba