Bittersweet

Done Too Soon

Saying good-by to a friend

Watching her go

Into a grand new venture

In life

Is exciting

And sad

I share her excitement

And I hold my sadness

I will miss her presence

Yet I thrill to her

Adventure

For over two and a half decades

We shared a work space

Shared the joys

The sorrows

The beginnings

And the endings

Through life

There was laughter

And tears

Smiles, frowns

Ups and downs

And now it is

Done too soon

In a blink

It has come

And is gone

We say farewell

But in that word

We stand connected

The friendship

We share transcends

Time, distance, events

We share the same sun

Look in wonder at the same moon

And even though

Time passes

We are not

Done too soon

Travel well

My friend

~PSG~  3/27/15

A Tale of Two Teachers

It is said that when the student is ready the teacher will appear.   This is a tale of two teachers arriving when I was ready to learn from each.

Many seasons ago on a warm, clear spring evening as I walked across the sacred prairie earth of my home I encountered a most wondrous thing.  As I walked through the tall grasses that populate the prairie my eye caught sight of something quite extraordinary; the sun was setting at my back casting long shadows as I walked through the grasses.  There among these tall brown and green grasses stood the most beautiful and unusual flower; it was a tropical flower, its colors reflecting the brightness of its native land.  At first I was not certain if the long sloping rays of the last sunlight were playing a trick on my eyes, or if this beautiful tropical flower was really there.

The prairie grasses swayed in the early evening light casting shadows as they moved, and this beautiful flower picked up the rhythm of their dance and moved with them as if they were dance partners of old.  The flower dipped and swayed in the most intricate of patterns as the evening breeze caressed it; I moved close to the flower and could smell its wonderful fragrance, a light perfume so different than the earthy smell of the grass and prairie flowers that danced with this tropical plant.  I leaned close to where it swayed in the breeze and gently touched it with my hand.  It responded to my touch as if it knew me, and like an old friend that has not been seen in a very long time, who has been very much missed and whose return has been anticipated.

I whispered to this tropical plant, “May I pick you?”  And the plant replied, “Most certainly; I will take root, grow, and flourish wherever I am planted.”

And so I bent down and gently took this plant from its place in the red/brown soil of the prairie earth.  As I gently drew the plant upward from its place it took root in my heart, filling me with its beauty and essence, and it resides in my heart to this very day.

Many seasons passed, the tropical plant living and flourishing in my heart as it accompanied me throughout my life’s journey.  One day my journey took me to a faraway land; a place of tall mountains, rugged terrain, and fast flowing rivers.  I arrived in the late afternoon of a summer’s day.  

As I passed through this rugged and beautiful landscape I saw a tall spindly plant growing up between two boulders at the place were the mountain met the river.  It stood rigidly at attention protected from the strong winds of the mountains by its two guardian boulders.  As I watched it I thought of the beautiful tropical flower.  I saw that this tall plant with its prickly covering could not sway and dance like the tropical flower had done on the prairie floor.  This plant stood straight and strong bending only slightly in the wind.

I was drawn to this plant because of its fierce rough beauty, its tenacity, and its strong will to survive.  Here on this mountainside next to the river it had found its home, and here it stood between the two boulders.  Its aroma was woody and strong, it was aromatic rather than fragrant like the tropical flower, but its scent was appealing.  

I walked to where it stood reached out my hand and gently touched its spiny covering.  It responded to my touch and greeted me like an old friend but with a bit more reservation than the tropical flower had greeted me.  It too knew me, I knew it, and I wanted to bring it to me as the tropical flower had come to me.  But this plant needed more coaxing, more time, and more awareness.  It would not come easily and had to be persuaded to join me.  It was a fierce wild plant that had rooted deep into this mountainside and was fed by the flowing river.  The tropical flower had come to my land of its own accord but now I traveled into the home of this wild plant and I wanted to carry it away with me.  It was not certain that it wanted to go. 

So we spoke through a wordless speech; we spoke of many things; of philosophies, life, of the physical world, and of the spiritual world.  Our dance was rigid, and more formal than the dance with the tropical flower had been.  But it was a proper dance, devised by the spirit of all growing things, and in time, as we spoke and danced and spoke again, the tall spindly plant became a bit softer and a little more pliable.

And I asked it, “May I pick you and carry you with me.”  And it replied, “Yes, I will go, take root, grow and flourish wherever I am planted.  For I am resilient and can easily do that.”

So I reached down and gently took this plant from the mountainside that had been its home and it immediately took root in my heart next to the beautiful tropical flower and both flourish there together.

Now I began to examine these two beings that are a part of my being.  Listening to them, observing them, and learning from them.  I compared them in my heart.  The tropical plant was a splash of beautiful color, a fragrance like very good perfume,  it was soft and pliable, and as I watched this plant I was reminded of an epiphany; the word so soft and gentle on the tongue and the meaning of it a flash/a spark of great knowing/understanding/awareness. 

The tall wild plant was subdued in color, rough in texture, and it carried an aroma of the mountain floor, the rocks, and the trees.  It reminded me of an iconoclast;   the word strong with a hard edge and always calling into question the belief systems of those it encounters. 

These two very dissimilar yet very much alike beings had rooted in my heart.  As I watched I saw that each of their root systems had gone deep into me and were intertwining as I watched.  They were one and they were different; they were together but not the same. 

The tropical plant flooded me with the simplicity of faith in myself, in what lie beyond me, and in life itself.  The tall wild plant introduced the hard edge of reality, calling me to examine, to explore, to learn, and then make my decision of what I would accept/believe.  They are dissimilar but the same; one complimenting the other; one drawing me more deeply into my awareness while the other calling me forth to examine and to think critically. 

I understood that this was the sacred twining that happens when one has come to the juncture of two great beings:

“For east is east

And west is west

And ner the twain shall meet

Till Earth and Sky

Stand presently

At God’s great judgment seat”*

These two great beings grow deep within my heart and have become my life teachers. Though there are great contrasts between them they are also similar.  Their root systems have entwined within me and symbolize an inner marriage of the inner feminine and the inner masculine.  Though they are outer beings in life their essence and nature have taken root in my heart and grow there as a part of what I am becoming as my path unfolds before me.

*Kipling, Rudyard: (1865 – 1936) ”The Ballad of East and West”

Samadhi

A first step toward mindfulness is samadhi, the concentration of the mind.  This begins as we train our heart and mind in the practice of stillness.  As we practice this we become aware of the moment; past and future, worry and anxiety recede as we establish an inner order of peace and clarity in this realization of being only in the moment.

We  develop this steadfastness of mind as we direct our attention to a single pointed focus.  This might be the breath, a mantra, a visualization, or a feeling such as loving kindness.  We hold our focus and if our mind wanders, as it often does, we direct it back to our focus.  As we breathe in and we breathe out through our focus stillness begins to return and we stay there until we lose our focus and we practice returning to stillness again.

Steadfastness of mind, being mindful, and holding single pointed focus takes practice.  If we have not been born to this practice then we must be kind and gentle with ourselves as we develop into this.  

  
As we let go of thoughts of past and future, of fantasies, of attachments we arrive in the now, of being present in the moment, and we touch our breath in a mindful way.  Samadhi does not come on its own; we, the practitioner, need to create a space to bring it in and encourage its growth. Loving kindness toward ourselves encourages this to happen.  Until we lovingly and kindly accept ourselves as we are it is difficult to create a mindful presence within.

When I am self critical I cannot be mindful. At these moments I am caught up in criticizing me and this thinking envelopes my being.  When I am critical of others I project my thoughts outward in an attempt to help me feel better about me but I only disperse negative thought patterns to others.  This interferes with my practice of mindfulness.  
  
Samadhi is described as a natural state beyond waking, sleeping and dreaming that is an unlimited reservoir of energy, intelligence and creative power and a place of infinite peace and tranquility.  We must learn to observe ourselves with a silent mind free of judgement and attachment.  In this focused silence we begin to experience samadhi.

With this steadfastness of mind we begin our practice.  We release attachment and begin to observe our thoughts and actions from the place of the witness.  When we do or think something that does not seem correct we watch it unfold and touch it with compassion as we move on.  If we feel good about our thoughts or actions we accept them with this compassionate presence and move on. In this practice we do not attach, we witness and move forward, learning what ever lessons our lives hold for us and then letting go.

Letting go is more about our attitude than it is about the actual thing or event.  We often hang on to a feeling, a thought, a person, an attitude, or possession and it is this feeling that attaches us.  Practicing mindfulness allows us to be born and to die in each situation and within each relationship.  This teaches us that impermanence is a constant part of our lives.  When we realize this we begin to soften to life.  As we soften we become truly alive and in this we become mindful.  

As we learn to be steady in mind and as we focus on being present only in  each moment we are engaging in the practice of samadhi.  When we begin a meal we are born there and when we complete the meal we die there.  When we embrace a relationship into our lives we are born when we separate from that relationship we die but are reborn when we meet again.  So in every moment we embrace, let go, embrace again, to let go again.  This is the impermanence of life and as we accept this mindfulness becomes our practice.

The point where our consciousness embraces samahdi we open to this place within ourselves of infinite tranquility, peace and to our innate intelligence and creativity. By observing ourselves with a steady, silent mind we can penetrate our most inner resistance to becoming a mindful being.

  

  

      

Teaching a Meditation Practice

I find teaching others how to meditate is impossible.  I can share techniques that work for me, encourage students to slow down, monitor their breath, witness their thoughts, let thinking pass through the mind and let it go, but in the end we each must find our own path to our practice.  I can act as a guide or mentor to a fledging student of meditation, but I can only make suggestions and point to landscapes that are familiar to me in my practice and may have little or no meaning to the other person.

I began my practice by sitting with many meditation teachers.  Each teacher shared their knowledge with me, and I selected from their knowledge what worked for me….

        On a warm night in the middle of a busy Midwestern city I sit in the presence of a great teacher that is a guru to many of those in my class.  The room we sit in is in an older building, in a time before old buildings are converted to central air, so windows are opened to hopefully trap some of the cooler air outside.  I am hot; sweat forms on my forehead, the back of my neck, and trickles down my spine.  The city outside is filled with chaotic noise as I focus on my in breath and my out breath.  We are restless, distracted by the room’s heat and the outside noise.  I am not able to let go of the distractions.  Someone voices his dissatisfaction and others voices join in.  The teacher calmly and quietly says that this room is the perfect place to practice our meditation.  Gradually the noise in the room quiets.  My breath calms, my anxiety begins to dissipate with each out breath, and calmness flows in with each in breath.  The noise outside the room becomes a backdrop for my practice and gradually fades.  The sweat on my body cools me until my physical self is no longer a concern to me.  My practice slips into place as my physical distractions and discomforts ebb away.  This room, time, and place are indeed perfect for this practice.  

The lesson I learned from this was that as I begin a practice the place is not as important as is my practice.  Accepting that distractions are a part of meditation I can witness them from the observer view point and this will enhance my meditation.

     Many years later I find myself in a hospital as the result of a stroke.  I am on the rehab floor and a friend who is a yoga and meditation teacher visits me each day.  She leads me through a type of guided meditation called Yoga Nidra.  The staff on the rehab floor include this in my schedule for therapies each day.  Every morning at 11:30 I returned to my room for a half hour of yoga nidra practice.  We place a do not disturb sign on my door, but despite this sign almost every day at my yoga nidra time the staff, the noise from the hallway, and the hospital’s public address system  come into my room to distract from this practice.  My friend asks me why I think this happens.  I am reminded of my experience in the large city years earlier.  When we begin to quiet ourselves and open to our inner awareness the world seems to arrive at our door seeking attention; and by becoming the witness and observing what is taking place we are allowed the opportunity to see the illusions that life plays out for us.

I am reminded of the extent to which we buy the illusions in life and how we allow them to direct our awareness.

  

There are many teachers who teach different meditation practices.  Each hold truth and each share good techniques.  The most valid and consistent practice, I have found, is that life has a desire to subvert our practices and by allowing these distractions to come, to wash over us, and to move on is the only way we can reach our desired state in meditation. 

I have many friends who teach meditation.  They are all honorable well-meaning people who teach out of a desire to reduce stress, ease emotional turmoil, and help us gain the peace of mind we seek.  In the end meditation is not about how well we follow instructions and rules or take suggestions; it is about following our intuition and trusting it to lead us where we need to go.  

The concern often is that the practice itself may have something to do with the problem.  The practice/a practice can be a good starting place, but in time we hopefully move beyond the practice and into our own practice.  Meditation then becomes a part of our daily life practice.