Exploring Stillness: Why We Meditate…

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

Reflecting on Lineage in Meditation Practice…

Photo by Irina Iriser on Pexels.com

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 presence of connection…

I read this quote recently from Gabor Mate:

“Safety is not the absence of threat but the presence of connection.”

-Gabor Mate

I was spending a week at Exeter, NH at a math camp for educators, and it was a week of immersion – in fun math problems, collaboration, connection and learning. And as I was navigating this week, my practice was becoming aware of the absence of ill-will, unease, discomfort and stress. One of the reasons for attuning to this was that sleep had been strangely elusive in the dorm rooms and after a couple of days of this, I was starting to feel very tired. Noticing the absence of stress and tension was a way of staying present and realizing that even if I was tired, there need not be judgment or tightness around it.

Sometimes at these events, the tiredness and social interactions can manifest in me as reactivity towards personalities or ideas. Somehow this week however, there was complete absence of this reactivity perhaps due to conditions both internal and external. Externally, I was in classes with some exceptionally kind educators – thoughtful and generous. Internally, I was able to bring a steadiness and care towards my work. And solving problems and learning with others were both feeling so good for my brain that it didn’t seem to matter that I was tired!

So mid-week, when I read this quote from Gabor Mate, I realized (for the nth time!) that awareness of the absence of dis-ease is the space that opens to the presence of ease. The absence of ill-will lends itself to the unfolding of good-will or metta (loving-kindness). The absence of stress and disconnection allows for the presence of connection. And friendship flowers in the presence of connection.

Earlier this year, I had made a small laminated card of the seven awakening factors for my mindfulness sangha, with the key words offered by buddhist teacher Gil Fronsdal. So, as I sat each morning, I practiced with the seven awakening factors on my card- noticing what was present and what was absent – with curiosity and care – rather than one more thing to beat myself about. I noticed that even when energy was absent, there was kindness. And at times, curiosity was present even if tranquility was not. And one afternoon, walking across the green to one of the sessions, I realized that equanimity was mostly always present! I was able to connect with others easily, let go of any judging and comparing that arose, and I was able to forgive myself and move away from the self-judgment that sometimes seems so ready at hand when tired. And the practice of listening deeply with an open mind and heart was helping me lean into the gift of connection.

So….I am now back at home and enjoyed a good night’s sleep – the first one since Sunday! And I leave you today with this poem I found taped in one of the bathrooms at Phillips Exeter – it inspired me and I hope you find it helpful as well!

With love, Shuba