Tag Archives: attention

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.

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.

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

Welcome everything, push away nothing…

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Daughter Anji on the beach in Cancun, 2018

After listening recently to a talk given by Frank Ostaseski, co-founder of the zen hospice project, I was inspired to read Frank’s book, ‘The five invitations‘. The second invitation in this book is to ‘welcome everything and push away nothing’, and it has been the theme of practice for me this past week.

School began this week in full swing and I held this intention on the opening day, to welcome everything, all my students and all the experiences. I found that it is easy to welcome everything when things are good! The first day was magical. The excitement, the hope, the possibilities.

With school beginning, there also came the familiar worry and anxiety of the virus, especially for my daughter Anji. The choice of masking and the dependence of her well-being on conditions outside her control. I was listening to her while washing dishes, feeling my own impatience as I was listening – when the invitation cut through. Welcome everything, push away nothing. This too was okay. I could welcome this and make space for it. I loved her and that also meant welcoming her tendency to worry.

With first full week of school, inevitably there was tiredness and feeling exhausted. And for me, with tired often comes judgment. I noticed how quick I was at self-judgment! Welcome everything, push away nothing meant that judgment too was okay. I could notice and listen to my thoughts with kindness and patience – like listening to a child who is hurt and wants attention. I was lying in bed early in the morning, wishing for more sleep, noticing the thoughts of ‘if only…’. And remembering the instruction, I could soften with tenderness and welcome the experience. And just like the child calms down when listened to, the kind attention was enough for the judgments and thoughts to release.

So welcome everything, push away nothing is really an instruction to accept things just as they are, not wishing them to be otherwise. Even when we wish them otherwise, there can still be kindness, instead of aversion. Gil Fronsdal talks about this in the third awakening factor of mindfulness, effort. Wise or skillful effort is in paying attention – not just what we pay attention to, but how we pay attention.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

Rumi

Choosing a welcoming, grateful and kind attitude strengthens this response so it becomes increasingly available in the future. And then we start to notice the exquisite joy, the beauty, the love, the abundance that comes our way when we welcome everything. It opens our hearts.

With kindness, S.

Coming home…

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It is my first day of school vacation. My second year of teaching has flown by, and it has brought me such learning, and growth and appreciation, I feel grateful to find something I cherish and love doing everyday. I love my students, and my colleagues, and I love that I am paid to do math everyday!

And I also love my school vacation.

On this beautiful quiet morning, after dropping off Anjali, now 4 and ¾ as she reminded me this morning, I walked on the meandering roads near my house and I couldn’t help marveling at how my life has unfolded here in the upper valley. I came here as a graduate student to Dartmouth college, when I was 21. And I just never left. It has been nearly 14 years now. It wasn’t a love affair from the beginning, I can tell you that for sure. In fact I cried those beginning months, to be back home, to be around people again. And then one starry night, I walked outside from a show at the Hopkins center, and that’s when I knew. I was going to stay.

It is amazing to me that such a small place can hold so much. The beautiful magnificent fall – in all its triumphant colors that change everyday, culminating in a rich golden dance of leaves that lead into nothingness. And then the beauty of pure white snow and the trees clothed in white, the snowy banks and mountains and the feel of icy cold air on the cheeks. Everything feels so still in the winter. And then the melting and the nothingness in between – before the buds shoot forth and miracle of life happens again. The trees and plants grow leaves, and somehow in a span of a magical month, everything is green again. And now, as I gaze around me, I’m greeted in all directions by the lushness of green. Who knew there were so many shades of green? Not to mention the flowers. Each walk I go, I discover a new bloom, a new kind of flower, a new scent. My heart is made so happy! And I am in awe of this unfolding that happens every year without fail, and that I get to be the witness to this beauty of transformation.

Each year seems to bring something new. This year, after living in our home for over 7 years, we saw a black bear in our back yard for the first time! It wasn’t large, but it had come to find seed at our bird feeder, which we then had to take down. In the last year and half, we have seen and learned the names of over 10 species of birds come to our yard, and listened to their calls and watched their way of patiently waiting for their turn at the feeder. In the roads around my home, I have taken countless walks. I have walked with friends, I have walked as a pregnant woman, as a new mother with my baby snug in the wrap next to me, as mom pushing the stroller with my child, more recently walking side-by-side with my daughter, and then sometimes like this morning, alone by myself. Life has come a full circle. And as I take each footstep up the hill lined with purple and yellow wild flowers, I know I am home.

So here is to the place closest to my heart, my home, the place I have lived longer than any other place in my life, the place that bears witness to my own transformation. I bow to you in gratitude and joy!

With love, S.