giving up our stories is hard to do

Can you notice when you are acting due to a thought or story you made up about your child, rather than acting in response to what is actually occurring? Particularly when we are at our limit, we can begin to believe the storyline over things as they really are. The more you can notice when you do this, then take a breath and reconnect to what is happening, actually happening, the easier things become. Even when they are hard.

My children were sick all weekend. My husband was working. He has been working every weekend the last month, as well as late nights. I am at my limit. And I was at my limit tonight when they both repeatedly asked me for comforting, at the breast and with snuggles. I just wanted to get dinner in the oven. I didn't have much to do, I hadn't been able to attend to anything else all day outside of playing with them and snuggling/nursing them, changing them, caring for them in the many ways we do when they are ill. I just needed five minutes to get one thing done. They needed me. They felt bad. They needed mama's touch, mama's milk, mama's lap. I didn't want to give it to them anymore. Their cries that they felt sick, that their tummies hurt, that they wanted me - it all felt like way too much. Instead of taking a breath, and acknowledging that indeed, this felt like too much, and working with the energy of that, I began to go off on a storyline, voicing my frustration and resentment. I began to exaggerate in my mind, project my own fears and sadnesses onto them. And I began to speak to them out of that muddled dream. Luckily, I noticed. I heard my words and saw my little ones' faces. But it took a few minutes.

It took a few minutes. Sometimes it does. Sometimes it takes a few days. With some storylines and emotions, it can take a few years, or more. The important thing is that at some point, you notice. You stop. You take a moment to look, and you see that what you thought was true, well, it really isn't. "Life is always kinder than the story we tell about it." I know I am always mentioning that Byron Katie quote, but my goodness, it is apt.

It is only when we can let the whole thing go, watch the shadow unravel, that we can actually stop perpetuating suffering, both our own and others'. The important thing is to notice. Then you can open back up to things as they are, really are. I always say to my meditation students that even if they just notice one time during a meditation session that their attention is not on the breath, and then bring their attention back to the breath, even just once, well - they have meditated. It just takes one time. Over and over and over again.

So. Tonight was one of those times. Noticing that I had allowed myself to be carried, once more, on the wave of story - carried away from the present moment, and into my projections. And behaving badly because of it. I noticed. I came back. I picked up my two crying boys, and I apologized to them. I got warm cloths, and laid them on their tummies. I held them. I nursed them. I hugged them. I asked my husband for help when he got home, even though I knew he was stressed and tired as well. I realized I couldn't attend a meeting I had been planning on going to this evening. That commitment, nagging at the back of mind, had also fed my little tirade. I let go of what I had planned and embraced what needed to occur.

The boys are sleeping now, as is my husband, who is also sick. My kitchen, no, my whole house, is a mess. The cats need to be fed. I need to wrap a birthday present for my youngest and finish a felt crown for him, as it's his second birthday tomorrow. I feel that I am about to come down with this illness too. But still so much to do here. It's ok. And it's hard. I can just acknowledge that, and not add any of the other stuff to it. I don't need to write a whole story of how it should or could be, or why it is hard or whatever. Just breathe. Just be here. Then it isn't hard, or at least, not so hard, anymore.

what are you encouraging?

"Pay attention to your life. What environmental influences are you encouraging?" - Sakyong Mipham Rinpoche


Sakyong Mipham is my teacher.  As with all great teachers, whenever I read a teaching by him or hear him speak, it is like what he is saying is meant just for me.  It always seems to be exactly what I need to hear, or something that has been crawling around in my brain trying to articulate itself into being, a vague unease scratching around, and then POW - he puts it into words for me to hear.


So it was when the above quote appeared on his Facebook page the other day (yes, all the Rinpoches seem to have their own Facebook pages, and to be honest, it is awesome.  I LOVE seeing the profound, true dharma mixed up with all the status updates about children and partners and parties and so on.  Very vajrayana, very tantric - the dharma is about this daily living stuff, not to be sequestered away in some untouchable place).  Anyway,  I saw this and it connected right to my heart.  I have been vaguely anxious about the day to day environment I am providing for my family.  About the influences that have crept in, or that I have been, perhaps, unable to discard from my previous life.  Mental influences, physical influences.  What we are spending time each day doing, what I am bringing into our physical space, or neglecting to take out of it.  I had been forgetting to ask myself "is this helpful?" and even worse, I had forgotten to stop and listen to the answer.  Ahem.


Screen-free week was a wonderful opportunity to step back and begin to unwind the tangled web of media that can, at times, dominate our home life to the detriment of our children.  But it is useful to go deeper.  To pay attention, as Rinpoche says.  What are we encouraging in our home?  What habits of mind, of speech, of relating?  We have to look at ourselves.  What seeds are we watering in our own minds and hearts, our own daily habits, that our children see and learn from?


What can we do to sow seeds of nurturing and goodness in our home?  Seeds that when they blossom, will help our children have confidence in their basic goodness?  What books?  What food?  What speech?  What kind of play?  What daily habits, both individual and familial?  These are useful questions to ask ourselves.  I have been trying to pause throughout the day when a particular habit makes itself known - is this working?  Does this encourage sanity or does it create anxiety?  Does this create compassion or aggression?  Togetherness or separateness?  Dignity or chaos?


I have some changes I need to make to our physical home and to our daily habits, some little, and some pretty big.  This is not an excuse to beat myself up or make myself wrong about my parenting - it is an opportunity to rediscover the basic ground again, the ground of goodness, and look for ways to keep connecting to that.  Always with gentleness.  It can actually be a relief to say out loud "this isn't working!".  That is a big, important first step.  Then we can take the necessary, gentle steps to bring things back into alignment.


That is the work that lies before me right now.  Weeding out the things that do not serve our wholeness, and creating fertile ground for sanity.  What environmental influences are you encouraging?  Pay attention to your life.  That's all there is to do, really.

if you can practice when distracted, you are well trained

This is another very powerful lojong slogan. It has been coming to mind often lately, as I have been, well, distracted. There have been a multitude of stresses and phenomena that have been pulling at my mind - trying to take it away from the present moment, often successfully.

I have said this many times before here, but it is all in the noticing. As soon as we notice we are distracted, as soon as we notice our mind has been pulled into the past or strayed into the future, we are back. We can only notice in the present moment. We notice, and we are right here, right now, once again. And then we notice if we are judging ourselves for having been lost in the fantasy of past or future. And we are back once again, and gentle once more.

We went to my parents' house for my youngest son's first birthday. We really went up to see my mother, who is slowly dying from multi-symptomatic Parkinson's disease. She has gotten much worse, and we hadn't been in awhile, so it was necessary to go as soon as we could, which coincided with my little love's turning one.

It was a long, hard car ride. My littlest screamed for the last two hours. We were exhausted when we arrived, but felt rejuvenated when we noticed (in the berry bush by my parents' back door), seven (yes, seven!) red cardinals. Their feathers were so vivid against the bare branches covered in snow. It brought us immediately into the now, and perked up our drooping spirits.

I have written before about the chaos in my mother's house due to her illness and the karma of the situation, and it is only getting worse as she gets sicker. So, it was hard. Then, our first night there, I became very ill with a stomach bug. The next day was my son's birthday, but we were unable to celebrate it as I spent the entire day in bed. My husband was left to care for our two little ones, my mother and my father. I was better the next day, but then he was struck with the bug. Then my father became ill, both our boys, and my mother, who ended up having to go to the ER to be rehydrated by IV. It was just a crazy, crazy visit. I had to really generate a lot of energy in order to care for everyone while still sick myself and arrange for more professional care for my mother - new aides to come at night (as we were too sick to feed her and get her to bed), calling doctors, getting the ok to bring her to the ER, arranging for aftercare. Calling social workers, health care agencies and siblings. Dealing with the family neurosis, heightened in these stressful circumstances. Working with my own guilt for getting everyone sick, especially my mother. Feeling disappointed and sad that my little one's first birthday was getting lost and forgotten in all of this life stuff happening. And feeling angry that my mom is dying. Talk about distraction.

Phenomena kept arising, and I kept being presented with the choice to really abide with it and let go of my desires or fight it, push it away, deflect it or try like hell to change it. Every time I chose the latter, the suffering level in the house increased tenfold. When I was able to let go and just be with the constantly changing reality, things were workable. They weren't easy, but they were workable and I could create some sanity. There was some breathing room.

When I resisted things as they are, I felt absolutely crazy and miserable. And what helped me keep coming back to the present moment and working with the circumstances with some level of equanimity and clarity were those beautiful cardinals. My parents' house is surrounded by bushes and bird feeders, which my father fills daily. The house has many windows as well. And there were so many moments each day when I was truly on the verge of losing my mind entirely when I would look out a window and there would be a flaming red cardinal looking back at me from his branch. Each time, it called me back to the now.

The great teacher Thich Nhat Hanh has a beautiful practice at his retreat centers. There is a large meditation gong, really huge, that can be heard, when rung, throughout the grounds and buildings. Throughout the day, every day, this gong is rung once, at various random times. Everyone who hears this gong stops for a moment, no matter what they are doing, and just reconnects to their breath and body. To the present moment. And then they proceed on. We don't need a giant gong to do this in our own lives. We can use whatever we have in our immediate environments to bring us back, no matter what is going on. Perhaps we live on a busy street and car horns often sound. What a wonderful mindfulness bell! Or perhaps crows haunt the parking lot of your workplace - when you notice one of their raucous cries - come back. Your baby crying. Your neighbor's telephone ringing. Your teen's Wii game. The glow of a neon sign. The flicker of a room light. Let these ordinary things bring you back. They are beautiful reminders, always available to us.

Having a well trained mind doesn't mean we don't get crazy or carried away. But it does mean we come back.

When reading about this slogan, I found a teaching by Judy Lief, who presented the following daily practice:

In your practice and during your daily activities, pay particular attention to the points at which you lose your mindfulness. In terms of bodhichitta practice, pay particular attention to the points at which you lose your openness or kindness. Notice the process of losing it and coming back.

This seemed useful for my daily life with children. This is why working with the raw, vivid, messy material of our daily life is so powerful. This is the richest mud for the lotus blossom of awakened heart to blossom in. Wishing you gentleness and good luck with your practice today and always.