The Five Remembrances

The Five Remembrances (5R) are something I stay close to in my practice. I recite and reflect on them often. Recently, I’ve been connecting with them first thing when I start my daily sitting meditation session in the morning. The 5R are as follows:

I am of the nature to grow old
There is no way to escape growing old

I am of the nature to have ill health
There is no way to escape having ill health

I am of the nature to die
There is no way to escape death

All that is dear to me and everyone that I love
are of the nature to change
There is no way to escape being separated from them

My actions are my only true belongings
I cannot escape the consequences of my actions
My actions are the ground on which I stand

When we interact with the 5R on a surface level, I think it’s quite normal to regard them as being downers. Once a month at my home sangha we read the Five Mindfulness Trainings, followed by the Five Remembrances. After the reading, we open up for sharing. Many times I’ve heard folks share about how the 5R are rather depressing. 

I think the 5R are a rather advanced practice to work with. I’m not saying they can’t benefit newer practitioners or that they should be held back from beginners for later use, but I do think that in order to interact with them more deeply, and in such a way that bears fruit, a certain foundation of practice is needed.

Home

As I type, my small laptop is perched on top of a bucket of kindling and I am feeding the woodstove simply for the quiet joy of watching the fire. It’s Thursday morning and we arrived home Tuesday late afternoon. I woke today at 4am and have been reading and writing poetry, penning letters to friends, and enjoying tea. I appreciate more and more making the big life change move we did, in order to live more simply, less consumed by so much work-for-pay, able to afford living more by feel and heart than societal conscription. And even though I sometimes feel like I am too much just one giant heart walking around, I am proud to be a woman with a growing capacity for living and loving. 

It was hard to leave Deer Park. Harder than I remember in past years. It’s the same heartbreak I experience when we leave Montana and head there. I’m starting to realize that my heart has been getting a certain workout, a certain potent kind of next-level training, in splitting our time for longer stints between these two homegrounds for the last 4-years. I am discovering that my heart is expanding in ways that I didn’t know was possible. And in the unfolding process of this heart expansion adventure, I am experiencing that the more the heart grows the more frequently it breaks. And as hard and gut wrenching as it sometimes is, I am also pretty sure it’s worth it. 

It’s rather a strange feeling to have one’s heart reside in two places. To have two different landscapes set 1,200 miles apart which complete one another in an energy cycle of affinity and affection. But as my practice continues, I am learning how to hold more than one thing at a time. The vessel of my heart is expanding in its capacity for bringing aboard new passengers. I am learning that I don’t always have to choose between one thing and another thing. The more my heart grows, the more I can hold and the less I need to choose what to keep and carry and what I need to throw man-overboard. 

Admittedly, it’s a hard superpower to wield. But then, everything takes practice.

Practice Q’s

I recently sent out an email to a group of friends and fellow mindfulness practitioners prompting folks to send me any practice related questions they might have, for the purposes of helping me to hone my answering skills. I consider myself as being notoriously not good at answering practice related questions on-the-spot. Logistical type Q’s are no prob for me, but practice based Q’s are another story. 

As a writer, internal processor and a slow percolator, I am far more skilled at being able to give a response after I have had time to reflect. So as a self-growth and skill-building exercise, I thought I’d lean into my community to help support me in developing my capacity for getting a little better at answering practice questions, simply by having some Q’s to practice answering.

Here are the Q’s I was sent (thank you sweet friends), along with my attempt at an answer. 

Q: How much does it matter how long a person meditates each day, and is a consistent time of day recommended? Your thoughts on setting a specific intention for a meditation session?

A: I am a big believer in consistency being far more important than duration when it comes to the practice of sitting meditation. If a person can sit regularly and ongoingly for 5-minutes a day – 3 or 5 or 7 days a week – that practice can offer great benefit. If someone has the desire to sit for longer periods of time, my suggestion is to start small (3-5 minutes) and work your way up very slowly. But if someone can stick with 5-minutes a day and it’s working for them and feels good, I say great! I do think that longer sits can offer certain fruits that are harder to touch into during shorter sessions, however, it really depends on what intentions a person has for their sitting. Slowly working up to sitting for 20 or 30 or 45-minutes is not everyone’s aim, and doesn’t need to be. Most teachers I’ve come across suggest finding a consistent time of day to sit (and they also suggest meditating first thing in the morning). My sense is that for many of us, if we don’t create a specific time of day to sit, it’s harder to make it part of our routine. However, I also trust there are folks who can prioritize it in their day while also being flexible with the time (ie. sitting in the morning one day and in the evening the next). As far as setting an intention goes, I think it’s important to have one and I also think it’s good to not have it be too heavy, serious or strict. Without intention, why sit? Personally, I sit 6-days a week in the morning for 30-minutes and my intention is simply to breathe and connect with myself on the cushion. My intention is to practice showing up. 

Q: How does age and experience inform the practice: is it a benefit; or do accumulated life experiences lead to more baggage that gets in the way; or is it some mix of both? 

On Freedom & Liberation

I opened a letter this morning sent to me by my friend Daniel, who is incarcerated at Montana State Prison. In it, he asked if I would write him a poem about freedom. We’ve been pen pals for 5 or 6 years and one of the things we’ve been writing back and forth about lately is poetry. I send him poems I’ve written or someone else has written, and he sends me poems he’s written. 

It’s not often – and by “not often” I mean I can think of only one other time – I am directly asked to write about something in particular. I am intrigued by his ask and appreciate the prompt. 

What came up for me straight away was: Is freedom the same thing as liberation? As a practitioner in a Buddhist-based spiritual tradition, our teachings center around liberation. Simply put, liberation is the ultimate aim of our practice. If we practice in such a way that doesn’t give rise to liberation, whelp, I reckon something is amiss in our approach.   

My very first thought in response to my own question Is freedom the same thing as liberation? was yep! Same thing! But then I started wondering if maybe freedom & liberation are synonymous but only in the ultimate dimension (which is a Buddhisty way of saying: when zoomed out and looking/feeling through the lens of the whole cosmos and the entire realm of lifeforce energy). In the historical dimension, however (which is a Buddhisty way of saying: when zoomed in to our individual life, where the trash needs to be taken out and we need to earn money to live), perhaps freedom & liberation are two different things.

Here’s what I’m pondering: in the historical dimension, maybe freedom involves a certain physicality, whereas liberation pertains to the mind. So, some examples of freedom would be: quitting a job because it’s sucking your will to live; ending a romantic relationship that has been dragging & draining; making the final payment on your car or student loan or mortgage; moving to a new town/city/state/country because you needed a fresh start; regaining the use of your own two feet after months spent on crutches; having your energy restored after a long bout of illness; getting released from prison.

Freedom, in these cases, is the act of being physically removed from something binding or constrictive. If I were bound to a chair for an hour and then someone came along and untied me, I would experience freedom from being restricted to that chair. You get the point. 

Liberation, on the other hand, is an inside job. Liberation pertains to the content and quality of our mental activity and the lens through which we see the world. Liberation does not depend or rely on anything external. 

I am considering, then, that one can experience freedom without feeling liberated, and vice versa. I am also considering that in the ultimate dimension, these states are rather firm and steady, whereas in the historical dimension, they are fluid and ever-changing. 

In the historical dimension, freedom for one person is normalized for another. Daniel’s idea of freedom might mean to get out of prison, whereas mine might be to get out of debt. So freedom for one person is not necessarily freedom for another. Also: the felt experience of freedom tends to wear off and becomes normalized over time. Liberation, while in flux and influenced by externals, generally involves the same basic qualities of felt experience: open, unbound, connected, at ease.  

Or maybe freedom belongs to the historical dimension and liberation belongs to the ultimate dimension. Hmm.

Books I Read in 2022

Pic above: my current books in progress

I decided to keep track of the books I read throughout this past year, so this post is dedicated to my great appreciation of books, and a want to share what I’ve enjoyed reading since January. 

Poetry books I read in 2022

*The Poetry of Impermanence, Mindfulness, and Joy edited by John Brehm
This one was a re-read, which I do not do often. I really like this collection a lot. 

Everything is Waiting for You by David Whyte

American Primitive by Mary Oliver

*Evidence by Mary Oliver

Dream Work by Mary Oliver

While We’ve Still Got Feet by David Budbill

Nine Horses by Billy Collins

Mayakovsky’s Revolver by Matthew Dickman

You and Yours by Naomi Shihab Nye

The Common Song by Eva Maxwell

**Monument by Natasha Trethewey

New & Selected Poems, v2 by Mary Oliver

Balance

Alongside my daily reading of poetry, a book by a death row inmate at San Quentin. Accompanying my propensity to smile, a willingness to hold space for difficult and painful things. Paired with my uplifting Twitter feed, filled with stunning photos of animals & landscapes and insights by wise teachers, headline worthy world news stories. Stay in touch with the beauty & goodness, also the sorrows & struggles, I remind myself often. 

Balance is what I aim for when it comes to most – if not all – things. A balance of work and play. A balance of to-do lists and unscheduled time. A balance of healthy food and junk food. A balance of thinking and feeling; of intellect and heart. A balance of town time and tree time. Of activity and rest. 

And wouldn’t you know it, every day is a little different when it comes to such things as balance. What might be a good balance one day might be a little off the next. Then there are the days when I’m not sure what the heck I need. But what I tend to know most days is this: This balance I’m referring to. This quality of well-being. This feeling of being able to meet the moment as it is and not how I want it to be, is of the utmost importance. It is no trivial or trite matter. It’s worth investing in; striving for; crafting my life around. 

I know this, too. My sense of balance will be different than yours. Your sense of balance will be different than mine. No one thing works the same way for everyone all the time. 

Just like how the rain can be a sight for sore eyes and dry fields or a deluge of trouble and torrment, really anything can be a help or a hindrance depending. 

Balance to me is about having boundaries and a moral compass, without becoming dogmatic or overly bound to any one way of doing things. Balance to me is about embracing my fullest self, while keeping close in mind that I will always have more skill-building to do. Balance to me is about learning when to jump in and when to lean out. 

It seems a worthy pursuit to form a relationship with what our own individual balance looks like, day-to-day, moment-to-moment. Without a working kinship with balance, it’s far too easy to fall into reactionary and habitual ways of engaging with life’s many and perpetual ups and downs. 

So this is me contemplating balance today. This is me currently listening to both the steady stream of traffic cruising by on the nearby highway, and the sound of birds singing amid the greening fields.

Nourishing Things

I pledge allegiance to 
Mary Oliver and Ani Difranco. 
To my teacher Thich Nhat Hanh. 

I declare myself a committed
citizen to the constitution of 
kindness. 

And when I fall to my knees, 
weary or weighted, 
from all of what it means
to be human in this wide, 
beautiful and aching world, 
may I, while I’m down there, 
know how to fill myself
with humble prayer
for the reverent joy it 
takes to get back up. 

This is me feeling inspired to share a few of the nourishing things in my current & daily life:

1. Mary Oliver’s poetry (I am reading Dream Work right now)
2. The instrumental music of Garth Stevenson
3. A small bunch of jasmine flowers (see pic above)
4. A 4-week online practice group called Watering Good Seeds that I am leading and participating in with 14 others
5. The love I receive from my friends
6. The process of recently being gifted and then finishing this puzzle:

Thay’s Continuation

Memorial banner at Deer Park Monastery

Our beloved teacher, Zen Master Thich Nhat Hanh (affectionately known as Thay by his students, which means “teacher” in Vietnamese), has died. At 95, he passed away at his root temple in Hue, Vietnam on January 22nd, 2022 (which was Jan 21st for those of living here in the U.S).

I feel very fortunate to be currently residing for a few months here at Deer Park Monastery, our tradition’s practice center located in southern California. Since his death, we have entered a 7-day retreat here at Deer Park, to honor, mourn, and commemorate our dear teacher.

With deep gratitude for my teacher; for being his continuation; for being a practitioner on the path of practice, please allow me to share some of the poems I’ve written this past week in his honor, along with a few pictures I’ve taken here at Deer Park:

95-years and now you are
extinguished. My beloved
teacher, I will miss you.

Beside my sorrow is also
my joy for being your
continuation.

My feet are your feet.
My smile is your smile.

Though you are gone
we can never be
apart.
_________

Yes, impermanence,
it is easy to see you
in autumn, when
summer is bending
to the breath of winter.

It is easy to see you
in a flower once bright
and beaming now
wilting and sour.

It is easy to grant
you permission to
raise an infant into
a child.

But oh how our
allowance does
not extend beyond
the veil of this body;
our own mind.
_______

Handling Our Pain

If we do not know how to care well for our pain when it arises, not only will that pain lead to suffering that we are then likely to carry around for a long long time, but we will also not be able to understand how to fully appreciate, enjoy & let in the bounty of good. 

We cannot dice up life and run away only from that which is unpleasant and uncomfortable. When we turn and run, we leave it all behind. 

How To Care Well For Our Pain

• Allow your pain to be as it is, without trying to force it away or cover it up or ignore it
• Feel your way into it; ask your pain Q’s; listen to what it is trying to convey
• Turn in the direction of it and move towards it, one slow step at a time
• Find creative outlets for expressing it (art, music, writing, woodworking…)
• Utilize your tribe; know who & who not to go to (not all friends are skilled at holding space during difficult times)
• Try to unwind yourself from either/or thinking and embrace instead both/and thinking (ex: look deeply to see that yes you have pain arising and things are hard right now and yes you also have conditions for wellness too, both things can – and usually do – exist simultaneously)
• Sometimes: eat the whole bag of chips
• Do walking meditation and allow your pain to accompany you
• When it’s too big or too much or too ____, do not force or pressure yourself to sit with it on the cushion
• Engage in a movement/body centered practice or healing modality
• Befriend yourself through the process; turn yourself into your own ally
• Be aware of (and try to avoid) the impulse to wrap your pain up in a pretty little bow 

On Retreat

And so it is that I find myself in reflection mode, as we near the end of our 90-day Rains Retreat here at Deer Park Monastery, in the Great Hidden Mountain. My husband Mike and I arrived in mid-October, me on crutches, still in high mending mode from ankle surgery at the end of August, and both of us fresh from having just sold our house of 18-years literally an hour before taking to the road to head here.

One week from today, our ceremony to close the 90-day retreat will take place, after which, a vast majority of the lay people on site will depart. Mike and I, however, will be staying on through March. Our current Rains Retreat has had the largest number of lay folks in attendance who are here for the full duration of the 90-days: around 25 of us here in Solidity Hamlet, with an additional 10-12 in Clarity Hamlet. A stark contrast from our last 90-day retreat here during last year’s covid closure, when we were 2 of a total of 6 lay people.

Years ago, I attended retreats with what I regard as a sort of trademark Westerner’s approach. A vigor of determination laced with “I’m so gonna figure everything out and transform all of my inner compost into flowers!” Now that youthful exuberance has eased itself into middle age, and I have the benefit of experiencing the fruits of 20-years of practicing in this mindfulness tradition, I am thoroughly enjoying a much more leisurely approach. I no longer go on retreat to figure something out or in an attempt to fix something I deem in disrepair. I don’t go on retreat to obtain grand insights or transcend the everyday world. Nor do I come here to escape: the world; my life; or our Montana winter. I go on retreat to rest, renew, recharge, reconnect – all of it in order to return. I come here to Deer Park in order to have the practice be my full time occupation. And to especially nourish the seed and quality of concentration.