Tag Archive | fruits of the practice

Finding What I Lost

Apr28
I’m grateful tonight that I found the necklace in the very last place I looked! I’m grateful I could tell Michelle that she was right: it was “tucked tenderly & safely in a soft, dark bag – just waiting to be found.” Wow.

All it took was deeply searching my mind. And then a little help from my friends. After following my delusional thoughts down that dark rabbit hole yesterday, I got the opportunity this morning to share my awareness of mental storytelling in a group of fellow mindfulness students. How throughout the search I was able to observe in real time how we make up stories and then we come to believe them: first, it was that I had put it somewhere safe, but after a long and thorough search of every possible nook and bag and cabinet failed, I gradually ‘remembered’ another story: I’d given it to its maker to clean up the tarnish; but that one didn’t pan out either.

Then I generated a vague recollection that, I gave it to somebody because it looked better on her than it did on me. Really? That precious thing? And then Mind suggested, Maybe I loaned it to someone… yeah, I kind of remember that, and I said ‘Be sure and bring it back!’… Even as these vaporous ‘memories’ arose over time I received them with skepticism and good humor. None of them appeared to be accurate. So I decided to go fishing in the sea of possibility with a little ‘wanted poster’.

I told them how yesterday, working with the photo, my mind made up another story that seemed plausible. And it took me off the hook for not remembering what I did with the necklace. Because in this story, I didn’t do anything with it. Somebody stole it. As Mind told the story, I could see so clearly how all the pieces fell into place, that if he could lie for three solid months then surely he could steal, that this must be what happened to it. I was simultaneously aware, from outside the thinking mind, This is a story that I’m making up and it has no basis in reality. I noticed as I told my friends about observing this new tale emerge and grow, that the telling of it, even though I didn’t want it to, was reinforcing it. Real-time observation of active cognitive distortion.

I also told them how simply sharing the true story of the perfidious Lothario retriggered my feelings of shame and hurt; but how mindfulness practice has diminished those feelings, and fostered compassion both for myself and for the sickness in him that drove his unskillful behavior. They were eager to help me find comfort, and find the necklace. P asked if I might have put it in a suitcase, and told a horror story about finding some long-lost jewelry in a pocket of a suitcase just in the nick of time before it was hauled to the dump.

I no longer own a suitcase. But that did make me think about a woven duffle bag I used to travel with, so this evening I went out to the Mothership just to look inside the duffle bag. Imagining that if it were folded flat I might not have shaken it out. Well, there was no duffle bag in the Mothership! But I decided to toss all the cabinets again, even though I’d thoroughly searched them already. It was dark, so instead of just looking in, I had to reach in and feel through everything: towels, books, and in the third cabinet, just a few t-shirts — but underneath them — the second my fingers touched the soft velvet, Eureka! As I gathered the small bag into my hand and felt the weight and texture inside, I started to laugh. My very first story had been the only true memory, but when it failed to produce the necklace the busy mind manufactured false memories, just trying to help.

Back in the house, in the light, I pulled it out of the bag and gently smoothed it into shape, giddy with joy, relief, and so much gratitude. Gratitude for finding it, of course; followed equally with gratitude for all the fruits of the practice that had guided me during the search: patient perseverance, not believing random thoughts, not attaching to imaginary stories, not taking rash actions, not obsessing over things I can’t control but methodically investigating what I could, keeping a healthy perspective, letting go of attachment to outcome, and the list goes on.

I’m grateful for grateful for caring and supportive friends, grateful for a sense of humor, grateful for Michelle’s confident (and accurate!) vision of a soft dark bag just waiting to be found, and grateful that I can now turn The Necklace over to her to display in her show opening Friday, May 31, at The Cirque in Paonia. To see more fabulous creations from this exceptional artist, check out her website, life of riley designs.

the Long, Grey Winter

Mar1
because we can all use some spring color about now…

It’s been cold and grey and windy for so long. And snowing off and on. I am grateful for the water, yes, and I am really looking forward to some spring color. Right before that first big snow a few weeks ago, the crocus leaves had pushed through the ground just a couple of millimeters. They’re drinking up snowmelt again and again under their late winter blanket. I really am grateful for that.

The does are hungry though. And my soul hungers for the sun. And it’s all fine, because each morning I wake grateful for a roof over my head, running water, coffee beans from foreign lands, fresh bread, cheese in the refrigerator. I cannot complain. And still, my soul hungers for the sun, snowmelt, green growing things outside and not just inside.

In Buddhism, there is the concept of ‘the ten thousand joys and the ten thousand sorrows.’ A skillful life includes the ability to hold both sorrow and joy, pleasure and suffering, loss and gain, with equanimity. I’m grateful that this winter is giving me so much practice cultivating equanimity.

Also, in an act of shameless self-promotion, my podcast is now available on Apple Podcasts. It even showed up fifth in the search when I typed in ‘Suffer Less,’ which is a wonder for which I am also grateful. Please give it a listen there, or on Spotify or most other podcast platforms, and follow if you like it. You can also subscribe to my newsletter, ‘Fruits of the Practice,’ but I haven’t yet figured out how to link that to this blog, so just comment or email me and I’ll add you to the list if you want to receive that monthly. Yippee! I am making my dreams come true. This may be another gift of the long, grey winter.

My Big Project

Feb7

Learn something new every day! I’m not sure how to share this on WordPress, but here is a pdf of the big project that I’ve been working on this past week. It’s only half of the plan to grow my little mindfulness business, and the other half will be revealed in a couple of weeks. Please enjoy checking this out, and subscribe if you’d like to receive ‘Fruits of the Practice’ in your inbox monthly, with all the features below including a guided meditation and an awareness exercise.

Mindfulness Practice

Sep7

Fruits of my labors today included not only abundant garden produce, but calm, compassion, and other mindfulness skills I’m learning to practice. When the contrary chimney sweep came today, I was determined to meet him with compassion in my heart, no matter how he triggered me. It was hard. He arrived more than an hour early, and when I answered the door wearing a mask, he whined like a teenage boy, “Do I really have to wear a mask?” From there it went downhill. In the next few minutes I couldn’t say a thing without him challenging me. I parried a few attacks with good cheer, but before long offered him the opportunity to leave if he’d rather not be here. Eventually I said with an even, pleasant tone, “I’m curious why you’re so contrary.”

After that he calmed down. I went into the bathroom to breathe, I went into the pantry to breathe. I offered him some fresh tomatoes to take home. Eventually, I sat on the stairs and chatted with him as he cleaned the stove. He actually chuckled. It was a successful application of meeting a challenging person with compassion and curiosity, instead of resisting his demeanor and shutting down from the triggered trauma of being baited. Even when he cheered the killing of wolves, I simply sat quietly looking at my hands until he went back up on the roof. All in all, it was a very successful harvest of the fruits of my mindfulness practice, for which I am supremely grateful.

Tomatoes, tomatillos, peppers and basil dominated the top layer of the harvest basket, while the second layer revealed the dwindling harvest of cucumbers and green beans as well as more cherry tomatoes. I still can’t use the sink, and the day was filled with other obligations anyway, but tomorrow will bring another canning session, with or without a drain: the harvest can’t wait.

The rattlesnake pole beans are starting to mature. I pulled the first few dry pods off the vine this morning, along with the last few ‘green beans.’ I’m so grateful for this delightful, surprising, prolific plant, which has pulled down one of the three support poles with its vigor. Beautifully speckled even to the end.

One of the brandywines, sliced for a sandwich, along with lettuce-leaf basil, bacon, and mayo. Have I mentioned that I’m grateful for mayonnaise?

Delta Health

Apr21

I’m grateful today for our countywide healthcare provider group, Delta Health. Today I visited both the hospital and the West Elk Clinic to get some tests run prior to an intake with a new primary care provider. It was a challenging trip for me. It was only the third time in the past year I’ve driven that far: I know realistically that the chances of a car crash are greater than the chance I’ll get Covid now that I’m vaccinated, but I managed to keep that anxiety at bay for the forty-five minute drive down there. At the hospital, I girded my loins, double-masked my face, and strolled bravely into the lobby.

Things have changed since the last time I was there. A new intake desk with a touchscreen checkin, wiped with disinfectant before and after each use, and a greeter taking temperatures with a wand to the neck. Everyone waiting in the main lobby both for admissions, and for wherever they were going next. I had grabbed a New Yorker from the mail pile in the car, and when I sat down to wait I opened it to a page of LL Bean’s menswear. Oh no! I had grabbed an LL Bean catalog, not The New Yorker! I flipped through the catalog, then opened Kindle on my phone and picked up where I left off months ago in The Compassionate Mind.

It was half an hour before I got into an admission office, and during that time I was dismayed to see several employees walking around half-masked; other people pulling their masks down to speak, and so many gapped masks. But I practiced patience, and felt safer being vaccinated, and reasoned that these people probably get screened daily and act cavalier because they know they’re Covid clean.

In the office, I was mesmerized as usual by the clerk’s fingernails. They were even longer this time. I’m always grateful when I get this lady, because her nail art distracts me. She seemed subdued, distracted, not her usual chirky self. She said, “Things are gonna get much worse.” The pandemic obviously getting to her. I really felt for her, and this helped me keep equanimity. I was stressed being there, but hey, I’m grateful I get to work from home. I felt for all of them. She sent me back to the lobby to wait for Radiology to come collect me. I wished her well. I felt that my being calm, pleasant, and expressing gratitude for her work gave her a lighter moment in her day.

Nail art from a previous visit. I was so mesmerized by her nails this time that I didn’t think to ask if I could get a picture. Also maybe by that time there was a little bit of static in my brain, which happens when I get anxious.

I changed seats a few times in the lobby, as people with droopy masks passed too close for comfort. Myself wore a ‘non-medical grade N95’ (whatever that means) that my cousin gave me, with a cloth mask over it. Time plodded on: I looked up every time someone came through the double doors from the main corridor. I started getting short of breath, and couldn’t bring myself to take a deep, full inhalation. It wasn’t the mask, it was the anxiety. Finally I walked back to the intake desk and said, “I’ve been waiting for Radiology for a long time, and I’m starting to feel anxious…” I was met with such a compassionate response I immediately felt better. One and then another attendant checked in the main office, and the second one explained that there had been some emergencies and they should be with me soon, and would I prefer to wait in the chapel by myself. That sounded good. As she was escorting me back there, the X-ray tech passed us and called out my name.

After waiting an hour, the X-rays took about ten minutes. I found myself holding my breath as the tech stood close and positioned me, thinking, If I can smell his breath (which wasn’t bad, just warm and moist and slightly scented) then he’s too close! I think I would have thought that anyway, even pre-Covid. The whole episode was a trial. I know that makes me sound like a weenie, but we all have different anxiety and risk thresholds. It’s been so long since I’ve been that close to that many people I felt a bit like an alien. Anyway, he escorted me back out to the corridor, and we parted with sincere well-wishes. This is a silver lining of Covid I’m grateful for: People really mean it when they wish you a good day, or to stay safe, or to take care.

Then I got to the clinic, and there was no order for the bloodwork. But the kind young lab tech spoke to the upcoming new doctor and got an order then and there, stuck the needle without sensation, got what she needed, and I was on my way home. I’m grateful for all the kindness that was shown to me during this adventure, and for the kindness I felt in my own heart, instead of the frustration, resentment, and irritation I might have felt had I still been an earlier version of me. I’m grateful that the fruits of daily mindfulness and meditation practice led me more or less serenely through the day, and allowed me to relax quickly after returning home, tossing all my clothes into the wash, and decontaminating in a hot shower. I’m grateful that my little blue car got me there and back safely, that Stellar was happy to see me when I got home, that hot water came out of the tap, that I had clean comfortable clothes to put on, and bread to make a grilled cheese-beans-and-bacon sandwich, and the rest of the day to enjoy this precious interconnected life.