Category Archives: living

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

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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

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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

Coming home: a practice for the new year…

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In the buddhist circles, often at the beginning of a retreat or meditation, a new year or new cycle, we chant the three refuges. With the three refuges, we take refuge in the Buddha, the Dhamma and the Sangha. Taking refuge in the Buddha is about coming home to the the awakened one within ourselves. Refuge in the Dhamma is about coming home to the deepest truths of the way things are. And refuge in the Sangha is about coming home to the community that sustains us, nourishes us and supports us in moving towards freedom. Most days, in my evening prayer, after lighting the candle, I use the three refuges to help ground me and remind me of why I practice and what is important and how to show up for my life.

I’m struck by this practice of coming home, especially at the turn of this new year. This practice of coming home is essentially what mindfulness is: coming home over and over again to the here and the now. For, this present moment is where the possibility of freedom is, the transformative power of love is. In a new translation of Rumi given to me by a dear friend, the first verse in the first poem in the book (Gold, translated by Haleh Liza Gafori), says:

“Let Love

the water of life,

flow through our veins”

-Rumi

In coming home, we return to this source, this love, this awareness which includes everything. The difficult and sublime thoughts, the aches and pains, the heartbreak, irritations, anger, sadness, grief as well as the joy, peace, ease, delight and enjoyment. And everything in between. This space has tremendous tenderness, aliveness, wisdom, intuition and grace. When we start to sense into this mystery – that nothing is separate from this flow of life, of love, of light, there is only one way to live: with compassion and kindness. To appreciate the gifts of each day. To allow ourselves to drop our armoring and be touched by life, by beauty and by gratitude.

May this new year allow you to come home and find many moments of peace and joy!

With love, S.

Cultivating restraint as a doorway to abundance…

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I love the month of December! It is a month that evokes the sentiments of celebrating snow, the people in our lives and the merriment of the holiday season. I also often find myself overwhelmed in the month of December. Any budget I set during this month quickly goes out the window and watching holiday movies and indulging in treats often leave me depleted. The word that best describes this month for me is excess. And what better time to practice restraint!? The best way we can learn the timely cultivation of balance and restraint is when we come directly face to face with overwhelm. So where and how do we start?

We start right here. where we are. By grounding in the body. Feeling the sensations of feet touching the ground. Pausing the activity. Softening and relaxing. And by reconnecting with our intention. We remember what is important. we remember the gifts that are already present in our lives. We appreciate the relationships that nourish us. We take the time to do a gratitude inventory each day as the botanist and writer Robin Wall Kimmerer reminds us. And we rejoice in the present moment and all that it has to offer – including the anxiety and overwhelm. Nothing needs to be pushed away – everything can be welcome and seen and let go of. And in this way, we move closer to freedom. I leave you with one of my favorites:

Humble living does not diminish.  It fills.
Going back to a simpler self gives wisdom.

When a man makes up a story for his child,
he becomes a father and a child
together, listening.

~Rumi

With love, S.

Reflecting on Lineage in Meditation Practice…

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Recently, an aspect of practice that has been helpful to me has been reflecting on lineage. This has been true both in my personal practice as well as professional life. As an educator, I’ve been very aware that I’m following in the footsteps of countless wise educators before me. Similarly, in my meditation practice, I’ve been very aware of the fact that I’m following in the footsteps of those who have walked this path for thousands of years before me.

In a recent group with dharma friends, we were reading one of the middle length suttas (MN 100) in which we came across the story of Dhananjani, who tripped and expressed spontaneously homage to the Buddha, the awakened one. I have chanted this traditional homage so many times – and this was once chanted by Dhananjani too – in a different place at a different time! In that moment, I felt this incredible connection with Dhananjani – one that transcended space and time.

When we reflect on our lineage, on those who have supported us, and have walked the path before us, and with us, we feel ourselves belonging to something larger than a small self. A spaciousness opens up, this tremendous felt sense that we are not alone. A touch of awe for all the causes and conditions that have brought these practices to us. And a commitment to practice not just for our benefit but the benefit of others as well.

And this awareness can support us in those difficult moments when wisdom feels elusive: maybe it is elusive to the small self but not to this large spacious awareness that has the voices of all the practitioners before us. The love, the wisdom, the compassion increasingly becomes available to us because we too belong. We belong right here, in this moment, with all our struggles, hopes and despairs, joys and triumphs, pain and loss. And we are not alone. We can surrender more easily our agendas and stories into this vast loving presence that is empty of self. Rumi says this eloquently:

I saw you and became that empty.
This emptiness, more beautiful than existence,
it obliterates existence, and yet when it comes,
existence thrives and creates more existence.

So we can turn our attention towards this existence that has humility, gratitude and tenderness. Turning our attention towards what nourishes us and sustains us is wise effort – and we know that where we place our attention matters. It does not mean we deny what is difficult or challenging. But there is just a bit more space – for ease, belonging and connection with the present moment.

So the journey goes on,
and no one knows where.

Just to be held by the ocean
is the best luck we could have.
It is a total waking up.

Why should we grieve that we have been sleeping?
It does not matter how long we have been unconscious.

We are groggy, but let the guilt go.
Feel the motions of tenderness around you.

-Rumi

May you feel the motions of tenderness around you and may many blessings continue to unfold in your life!

With love, Shuba.

ps: And if you are interested in practicing with me, consider joining me for the upcoming mindfulness session this Saturday. You can find details here.

The beauty, ordinariness and extraordinariness of not knowing…

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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

Awakening Beauty, Peace, and Freedom in Ordinary Moments | Mindfulness Practice

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So much of our life is filled with ordinary moments. Like waking up. Brushing our teeth. Having breakfast. Going for work. Grocery shopping. Walking in the neighborhood. Talking to friends. Reading a book. Do these ordinary moments have the potential to wake us up to beauty, peace and freedom? This inquiry has guided most of my life and practice these past few years.

In my experience, mindfulness is very much flavored by kindness and caring. We pay attention because we care and vice versa. The Buddha talks about metta (loosely translated as friendliness or kindness) as an abiding/quality/recollection that:

“Whether standing or walking, seated or lying down
Free from drowsiness,
One should sustain this recollection.
This is said to be the sublime abiding”.

-Buddha (in Karaniya Metta Sutta)

So this practice of mindfulness/insight meditation/clear seeing is very much about being present and wakeful in every part of our day. And especially in noticing the every day moments of ease, joy and wonder and turning towards what is wholesome.

In Buddhism, it’s considered appropriate and helpful to cultivate and enhance our well-being. It is all too easy to overlook the well-being that is easily available in daily life. Even taking time to enjoy one’s tea or the sunset can be a training in letting in well-being.

-Gil Fronsdal, Tricycle, 2022

The urgency in my own practice has arisen from wanting to be present for as much as possible of my daughter’s childhood. First when she was an infant, then a toddler, a preschooler, and now – a teen. She inspires me to practice every day. Talking about mindfulness isn’t the same as practice! It becomes very clear when I am with her. Am I walking the walk? Am I present when she shares her worries and fears? When she shares her joys and excitement? What is the quality of attention? Is there kindness? And am I present for the ordinary moments – of walking alongside her and getting a glimpse of the world through her eyes.

It turns out it doesn’t matter why we practice – because slowly our brains start to rewire. The urgency I felt to be awake in her presence spread to others. My time with my beloved too was precious. So was my time with my students, with my parents, my friends, my colleagues and those around me. How I showed up for others mattered. How I showed up for myself mattered.

And that is the magic of mindfulness – these new neuronal pathways that are created simply by paying attention – they make it possible for us to wake up and see clearly the truth of the way things are. Life is impermanent. There is joy. Peace is possible. On this day, in this moment, right here, right now. We just need to show up for it!

With love, S.

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