Letting Go, Letting Into

Last night at IMC, Gil gave a very good talk on 'Wise Letting Go'. Here are my notes - you can listen to the whole talk on AudioDharma:

We all need to learn to let go wisely. Letting go is a skill, one that can help us let go in ways that enhance our life and give us joy, as opposed to us getting into more trouble. 

A good place to start is to let go of compulsive thinking, so that our mind can experience some peace. This can be practiced during meditation. We let go of clinging in our mind, and we experience firsthand the resulting lightness. This can then translate into situations outside of meditation. For instance, letting go of limiting ideas around losses from physical limitations associated with old age. "Be someone who becomes old and decrepit happily!", instead of assuming that you are going to be unhappy. Asking oneself, what are deep things I have to let go of?

Another place is letting go of compulsive, self-limiting behaviors. We often confuse pleasure and happiness. Letting go can involve things that limit ourselves such as fear, shyness, etc. For instance, we may let go by practicing mustering the courage to have a difficult but necessary conversation. 

There are two aspects of letting go. Letting go of something, e.g. diving board. And letting into something, e.g. water, in other words what is gained in process. It could be more peace, joy, being in present moment more fully, etc. . . 

Gil ended by asking us to reflect on: 

In which ways can letting go better me? What do I need to let go of? And what does it lead me into?

One big letting go for me has been around fear. It took many moments of sitting still and of realizing the extent of the suffering that comes with worried, anxious states. Eventually, both heart and mind have become convinced of the imperious need to let go of this hard wired habit.  Fear still visits often, but it no longer exerts such a strong pull. Of greater appeal is the possibility of peace that comes when mind lets go and relaxes in the simplicity of the present moment.

How would you answer Gil's questions?

Before and After Meditation

Meditation serves as a workout for the mind, the same way exercise is a workout for the body. Lately, I have been paying attention to the 'warm up' and 'cool down' phases before and after sitting practice. How does one prep up the mind before sitting every morning? How does one ease back into the ordinary world after practice? 

Leigh Brasington has two useful lists of pre- and post- sitting practices:

Five things to do at the start of a sitting:

1. Gratitude
2. Why am I doing this (what's my motivation?)
3. Work up some determination
4. Metta - always for yourself, for others as well if you wish
5. "Breathing in I calm body and mind, breathing out I smile."

Five things to do at the end of a sitting:

1. Recapitulation - what did I do and how did I get there
2. Impermanence - all these high, but mundane, states are now gone
3. Insights - did I get any; what were they
4. Dedicate the merit from this sitting for the liberation of all beings
5. Resolve to be mindful as I get up and go about my activities

To which I would like to add another practice:

Before sitting, I read a few lines from the Suttas, from 'In the Buddha's Words', or online at Access to Insight, or from Leigh Brasington's very good list.

How do you prepare for sitting? Do you? How do you transition back afterwards? Do you?

In a Cup of Tea

Drinking from cup of tea this morning

I found gratitude welling within.

Words of thanks plentiful

came, just like that.

How lucky to have a home

that's mine.

The old folks at the nursing home

aren't so fortunate.

How wonderful that the body

is feeling pretty good.

No major aches and pains.

the time has not yet come.

How sweet the kindness of Him

who prepared the delicious brew

with a twinge of ginger

for even more delight.

How precious the luxury of time

not to be rushed through

No demands on Sunday morning,

only sitting at the kitchen table.

So much packed in every sip,

that too shall pass

making room for new moments,

who knows?

Muhammad Ali's Latest Life Lesson

The crowd's reaction to this made me very sad:

They missed the whole point of Ali's appearance. They missed the fact that they too one day will be betrayed by their body. 

"Let Us Sit"

From my training with Zen Hospice Project, I received many many gifts, including this one from Eric Poche, the director of volunteers there:

"Let us sit."

Eric Poche with Zen Hospice resident

Three simple and powerful words, that I have made mine now as I lead others into mindful sittings. Heeding Ajahn Sumedho's plea to keep practice simple. 

Which other words from teachers have inspired you? Please share.

The Only Mother I Have

While back in France last week, visiting my mother in her nursing home, I remembered those words from Ajahn Chah:

Those who look after their parents should have their virtues, too. You have to be patient and tolerant. Don't feel disgust. This is the only time you can really repay your parents. In the beginning you were children, and your parents were adults. It was in dependence on them that you've been able to grow up. The fact that you're all sitting here is because your parents looked after you in every way. You owe them a huge debt of gratitude. So now you should understand that your mother is a child. Before, you were her children, but now she's your child. Why is that? As people get older, they turn into children. They can't remember things; their eyes can't see things; their ears can't hear things; they make mistakes when they speak, just like children. So you should understand and let go. Don't take offense at what the sick person says and does. Let her have her way, in the same way you'd let a child have its way when it won't listen to its parents. Don't make it cry. Don't make it frustrated.

It's the same with your mother. When people are old, their perceptions get all skewed. They want to call one child, but they say another one's name. They ask for a bowl when they want a plate. They ask for a glass when they want something else. This is the normal way things are, so I ask you to contemplate it for yourself. [...] As for those looking after the sick person, have the virtue of not feeling disgust over mucus and saliva, urine and excrement. Try to do the best you can. All of the children should help in looking after her. 

She's now the only mother you have. You've depended on her ever since you were born: to be your teacher, your nurse, your doctor — she was everything for you. This is the benefaction she gave in raising you. She gave you knowledge; she provided for your needs and gave you wealth. Everything you have — the fact that you have children and grandchildren, nice homes, nice occupations, the fact that you can send your children to get an education — the fact that you even have yourself: What does that come from? It comes from the benefaction of your parents who gave you an inheritance so that your family line is the way it is.

The Buddha thus taught benefaction and gratitude. These two qualities complement each other. Benefaction is doing good for others. When we've received that goodness, received that help: Whoever has raised us, whoever has made it possible for us to live, whether it's a man or a woman, a relative or not, that person is our benefactor. Gratitude is our response. When we've received help and support from benefactors, we appreciate that benefaction. That's gratitude. Whatever they need, whatever difficulty they're in, we should be willing to make sacrifices for them, to take on the duty of helping them. This is because benefaction and gratitude are two qualities that undergird the world so that your family doesn't scatter, so that it's at peace, so that it's as solid and stable as it is.

Yes, with only one caveat. My mother may have fallen in same state of dependence as a child, but she is not a child, she is not my child. She is very much a grown woman, only now with a decaying mind, a decaying body. She is my mother still trying to care for me. "You should cover yourself better. You are going to catch a cold . . ."

What I Learned From Social Media Sabbatical

Nothing like going on a social media sabbatical, to put one in touch with the magnitude of one's attachment to the online world. Indeed, I learned much during this past week away with intentionally no ready access to my usual hangout places. 

First, I got to relive what it's like to have long islands of time, unbroken by online chatter, and the peace and greater presence that comes from shedding that extra layer of activity. I found out that I could live very well, better in fact without being 'hyperconnected'. I came back, determined to no longer break up my day with such interruptions. I still want to maintain all my online friendships, only assign them less time and contain them within one, two at the most small windows each day. 

Second, I realized the importance of reflecting on the underline impulse that moves me to be online so much of the time. At the root, lies the hindrance of anxiety. Some folks smoke a cigarette, others drink a glass of wine . . . I relieve my unease with tweets and updates. In the process, the opportunity for mindful exploration gets lost. A better way lies in using the urge to connect as an object of meditation. 

As 'Was Once', one of the readers of this blog commented, "On your death bed, you won't say I wish I had been online more. You will search desperately for those quiet, immensely fulfilling breaks into the nature of being. I loved every minute away from this machine on my ten day, so much so I will go again." 'Was Once' is right. On my death bed, I will also look back and take an inventory of the few loving connections I made in real life. That I know, from having sat at the bedside of the dying, and heard them each time reflect on their missed opportunities to connect with their loved ones, and also the joy from having succeeding at loving at least one person.