What the Heck I’m Doing Here

I’m currently and temporarily residing at Deer Park Monastery (DP), where my husband Mike and I have been visiting annually for the past 10-years for varying lengths of time. We arrived just before Thanksgiving this time around, and we plan to depart and head home in mid-March. Every visit here is a little different. I’m different; the monastery is different; the world is different. Did I mention everything is of the nature to change? 

I find it helpful to spend a little time reflecting on why it is I continue to feel drawn to coming here, and what it is I’m doing when I’m here. It’s important to me to understand why I do what I do, if for no other reason than to check in with myself to make sure my actions are in line with the direction I want to travel in.

Here are a few specific things I’m practicing here at DP, which I find especially nourishing & beneficial:

Simplifying. As you might surmise, monastery living is simple living. The small rooms we stay in meet our basic needs but are nothing fancy. Some might even say the indoor accommodations are in desperate need of attention and upgrading. Our meals are nutritious, filling, and mostly pallet pleasing but vary little in their content. When we stay at the monastery, we stay at the monastery. It’s not like a hotel where we come and go and take day trips around the area. When we’re here, we’re invested in following the schedule, being part of the community, and engaging with the practices that are part of our spiritual tradition. DP is a rich fertile learning environment for practicing simplification. This is a place that offers limited distractions, promotes wholesome usages of time, and centers on acting in accordance with mindful conduct, thoughts, and speech. DP is good training ground on how to cut out the chaff and connect with the heart of what really matters.

On Individuality & Community

I recently gave a talk to a room of fellow lay practitioners during which I referenced our western culture’s dominant messaging that centers around individuality. While it was not my central focus of the talk, I posited that individuality – as a way of life – has both assets and detriments. And it is this particular topic on which I would like to further elaborate my way of thinking. Ya know, just for the fun & challenge of it. 

The ways in which our western culture promotes, and I would say glorifies, individuality is often not in good service or aid to generating a genuine, balanced felt-sense of well-being. The type of individuality that gets touted and celebrated tends to have a consumeristic quality built in, a certain buy this product to validate or improve your self-worth situation. It also tends to have an element of needing to prove something to someone, which also means it is steeped in playing the dreadful comparison game. A game based on pitting us against one another; of constantly weighing who’s better and who’s worse. A game, by the way, that no one wins at. 

Some of us may be tempted to counteract this unhealthy form of individuality by then swinging all the way over into the realm of community. In my view, this too can be unhealthy. Doing so, we lose sight of the healthy, helpful ways in which individuality can be of benefit and service to us. 

It’s important to investigate and understand the distinctions between what healthy individualism is and looks like and what unhealthy individualism is and looks like; and what healthy community involvement is and looks like and what unhealthy community involvement is and looks like. 

For me, it’s important to have a balance and blend of both healthy individualism and healthy community involvement. 

Here’s how I’m thinking about things right now:

Unhealthy individualism involves:

• Lone wolfing it 
• Abiding by the motto that “hell is other people”
• Having something to prove 
• Seeing ourself as a separate self-entity 
• Thinking we don’t need other people
• Perpetually playing the comparison game (superiority/inferiority complex)

Be Here Now Turns 21

White Elephant gift exchange @BHN, December 2022

A poetic telling

21-years and here we are. If our group was a person, we could legally drink but would choose not to. 

If our group was the sea, I could say I’ve spent most of my adult life sailing its surface and swimming in its depths. And I could say I had only touched a miniscule portion of its offerings. 

If our group was a well-crafted loaf of artisan bread, I would say I was simply the shopper who pulled together the necessary ingredients, borrowed from other hands. The making & baking was the work of all of us. 

But enough about comparisons. What I most want to convey is this. The quiet work of anything great depends on two things that tend to confuse & scare: commitment & discipline. 

Thankfully, our group, our sangha, Be Here Now, has both. A commitment to meeting every Monday night, whether snow, summer, holiday or pandemic. And the discipline of tethering with purpose, joy & ease to tradition, format, sound teachings, and practice.

Okay. Back to comparisons. If our group was an orchestra, I’d be the gal who spread the word, showed up early to set the stage, and ensured everyone had a sitting place. Instrumental is the role of organizer, but the magic comes from the people. And the conductor? It might be the momentum generated by everything that’s ever happened. It might be the whole of all of us combined. 

__________

A practical telling

On Not Gaining or Attaining

In my over 20-years of being a group facilitator and program director for my home sangha Be Here Now, which has been meeting every Monday night since the fall of 2002, I don’t recall ever hearing from someone that what prompted them to join our group (whether once, twice, or on-goingly) was that their life was going so amazingly well, and they had such an abundance of free time, that they decided to have a go at meditation just for the fun of it. I trust there are folks out there who fit this bill, but I haven’t met any of them. Also, I reckon this group of people is hella small.

What I’m saying is, most people (myself super included) approach the practice of sitting meditation with some kind of attainment-mind in active pursuit. We come to the cushion, or to a group of people on cushions, with a goal in mind. Maybe we want to be less stressed out, or feel more at ease in our own skin, or maybe we’re looking to heal after a breakup or the loss of a loved one. Maybe we feel lost, confused and/or lonely and we want to feel less lost, confused, and/or lonely. Or maybe we know we’re looking for something but we have no idea what that something is. Whatever it is that propels us to the cushion and/or to join a sangha, it’s a normal, natural part of the deal to start out with the idea of wanting to attain something, whatever that something is for us.

A bit of backstory to this post, before I proceed. I was inspired to craft a blog post on non-attainment based on a couple of well-paired readings I happened to engage with the other morning. The first was from Suzuki Roshi, in Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind: “If you make your best effort just to continue your practice with your whole mind and body, without gaining ideas, then whatever you do will be true practice.” The second was from Thich Nhat Hanh, in Your True Home: The Everyday Wisdom of Thich Nhat Hanh: “The contemplation on non-attainment is every important.”

Okay, so, hearing these two Zen masters speak about not gaining or attaining, where does this leave us as meditation practitioners who likely started down the path we’re on wanting to gain & attain something? Whelp, here’s what I think the thing is. The thing is, while yes, we start out wanting to gain or attain something, at some point along the way, if we want to be a meditator and an active, involved sangha member for the long-haul, we must learn how to transform out of our grasping mind and into a state of sitting and showing up just to sit and show up. Chances are, if we start out meditating with a grasping mind and proceed to stay in our grasping mind, we’ll eventually stop sitting all together, because the thing we’re grasping for either never comes to fruition or comes to fruition but not in the way we wanted/expected it to or comes to fruition in the way we wanted it to but only for a short burst of time.

How to Leave the Monastery

Okay. So, this post might not appeal to most folks but it’s alive for me to share so here it is anyway. Allow me to set the scene. My husband Mike and I are currently residing on retreat at Deer Park Monastery (DP) in southern California in the U.S. We arrived at the end of October, about halfway through what is known in our spiritual practice tradition as the 90-day Rains Retreat (RR). The RR ends on December 18, so we are heading into our final week. Mike and I are staying on here until early April, but those who arrived at the start of the RR in September will soon be departing, which amounts to around 30 people. Many folks have trepidation about leaving the monastery and returning back home, and understandably so. 

This is the third RR Mike and I have attended in a row. In 2020 we attended the whole RR and in 2021 we arrived a week after it started. We’ve been coming here annually to DP since 2014, though typically for much shorter periods of time, prior to 2020. In large part, the pandemic is what inspired us to start coming here for longer stays. 

Over the years, I’ve heard many people share about how nervous they are to leave this place. Whether they stayed at DP for two-weeks or three-months, it’s common for folks to feel sad, scared, worried, and/or anxious when confronted by their upcoming departure. This post is dedicated to them.

While it may seem like an odd way to begin, I’d like to say out loud that this place isn’t for everyone. I like to take any chance I get to help dispel the notion that monastery living is an idyllic place for anyone & everyone, or should be. I am a firm believer that nothing is for everyone. There is no one thing or place or person or experience or way to be in this world that will suit everyone’s fancy. End of PSA. 

For those that do take a liking to DP, communal living, meditating in a lovely hall, enjoying healthy food, connecting with the Dharma, and being located so closely to the wide expanse of wilderness surrounding the monastery can be a lot to give up. 

I penned this poem here last year, specifically as an offering for someone who wound up having to leave the RR early, suddenly & unexpectedly, much to his great dismay. Though really it’s a poem for all of us.

Beloved Community

Last Sunday, my home sangha, Be Here Now, gathered for a potluck & open mic at our local mindfulness center. It wast the first time in over 2-years that we had a social event outside of our weekly Monday night meditation group. Pre-covid, we organized open mic nights once a month through the winter and potlucks 2 or 3 times a year. Words cannot express how wonderful it felt to be together again in these ways. 

Once in a while, folks will ask me what the benefit is to meditating with a sangha, verses on their own at home. And despite my almost 20-years of sangha-building experience in the Plum Village tradition, I will often have difficulty answering this question. Being part of a sangha – or any group that fosters wellness in our body/mind system – is much less of an intellectual thought process than it is a felt sense of connection and belonging. Showing up and participating in a sangha is more than having the support of other folks to practice sitting meditation with. It’s a way to meet people, forge friendships, be uplifted & nourished by others, and share in our common humanity as people on this planet earth together. 

This morning, my husband Mike and I went for a walk around the neighborhood we’re currently house/pet sitting in for a good friend of ours. When we strolled past a community garden, I commented on how nice it was that such things as community gardens exist. Places where folks can go and create a collective energy together by cultivating small gardens in unison. Amid such dualistic times, in our western society that sometimes pays homage to individuality to the detriment of our ability to be kind and skillful with one another, it seems as though we could benefit collectively from having a few more community gardens & sanghas around. 

One Day At A Time

We’re two-weeks in to living the van life. We’ve been fortunate to find some nice parking spots, surrounded by trees and little else. We’re finding our groove with our differing eating and sleeping schedules. And we’re getting the feel for where the good spots are to hang out during the day; where the public toilets are; where wi-fi access is offered; which dirt roads Mike can still get cell service on and, ideally, 4G. 

We’ve been greeted by some cold mornings but are still staying plenty warm at night. There’s even been a bit of snow. The forecast calls for a dip in temps all this week. The coldest it’s been so far is 27-degrees in the van. The van heats up quick whenever we run the engine and turn on the heater or fire up our portable propane unit, but it’s fixin on dropping down into the teens here soon, which I’m not looking forward to.

It’s taking a little something extra to work with the discomfort of cold and also uncertainty right now. To have our home base be a small and shifting landscape. And our simple dwelling conditions right now are also good training ground for present moment living. For strengthening my own true home within.

As much as I like to plan and for as often as my thoughts drift into the past and future, life is truly available only in the here & now, one day at a time. Our process of scaling way back and down, of simplifying our way of living, is really bringing this reality more to light for me.

Sangha Building

In the wake of our teacher’s recent passing, I felt inspired to craft this letter to my home sangha, Be Here Now:

Dear beloved Be Here Now Sangha, 

This is me wanting to lend voice to the powerful reality of how what we are doing - this whole meeting every Monday night to gather in a circle to sit; to walk; to share; to breathe together and be fully human together - is incredibly precious and important. 

This is me wanting to remind us all - in case we have forgotten - that what we are doing matters. 

Our practice matters. Our coming together matters. Our presence at sangha matters. Our showing up for one another matters. It matters even to many who are not in the room. 

Let us not be tempted to minimize what it is we are doing here together on Monday nights because of the tendency we have as humans to reduce in value the things with which we gain familiarity and/or have ready-access to. 

Our sangha - our spiritual community - is a rich wonder of life. And every single person who comes through the door, whether once or a dozen or one-hundred times, makes the tapestry of our community stronger and more vibrant. 

Thank you thank you for making Be Here Now Sangha possible. For showing up and offering the gift of your time, energy and presence. There a million other places you could otherwise be and you are choosing to be here, now. And for this I am deeply grateful. 

Dearest sangha, even though I am 1,500 miles away, practicing at Deer Park Monastery in southern California through March, I know you are there and I am very very happy. 

Holding you all closely, 
Nicole Dunn
Founder and co-director of BHN

The Passing of Time

Since my fall 5-weeks ago, which resulted in a broken ankle and subsequent surgery to install hardware to repair it, in addition to my full time occupation of resting & mending, I’ve been confronted with the very real challenge of having lots of time on my hands but very limited mobility.

Normally at this lovely time of year here in the Rocky Mountains, I would be out riding my motorcycle at every chance, before the temps drop and the snow flies. But that’s out. I’d love to go out for walks or short hikes on local trails, but that’s out. I’d also love to be preparing for our upcoming move and sale of our house in mid-October but most of what needs to be done I’m unable to do. So yep, that’s out too. (Insert sigh sound here.)

On the other hand, I have a great deal of access to activities at my disposal. I am once again thankful that I love to write, so writing is in, especially now that my energy is returning. Staying in touch with friends via email and social media is in. Listening to Dharma talks online and engaging in online summits are in. Watching documentaries and shows and movies is in. Computer based projects, such as one I am currently working on to help commemorate my home sangha’s celebration of 19 years in operation, are in. Reading is in. Drinking tea is in. Sitting meditation is in. Listening to music and playing guitar are in. Sending cards to friends in the mail is in.

So while I’m finding it challenging and sometimes frustrating to be limited in mobility, I’m also able to see and appreciate all of the many things I am still able to do. I find it helpful to acknowledge and make space for the challenges and frustrations to exist, while keeping a close eye on all of the very many things I have to be deeply grateful for. I’m not interested in whitewashing over the upsets and hardships, pretending as though they don’t exist. To me, that’s not what gratitude practice is about. It’s not about thinking: I have so much to be grateful for so I shouldn’t feel X, Y, Z. Gratitude practice, which is a big part of my daily practice, enables me to grow in my capacity to stay grounded when swells and storms roll through. Having a strong base of gratitude isn’t about ignoring the upsets. Having a strong base of gratitude allows me to not ignore all of the conditions I have to be glad and happy.

Healing Takes Time

Chronicles of a Broken Ankle:

Saturday August 28th, 2021

I think I’m starting to move around a little better. It’s a little less painful when I stand up. However small the increments of healing are, I’ll take em. 

I’ve been getting messages from friends and family wishing me a speedy recovery. Asking me if I am starting to feel better yet. I get it. They don’t want me to be in pain. Still. Healing cannot be approached in the same way as a work deadline or a traffic jam. The go go go, faster faster faster mentality isn’t really a thing when it comes to healing. Well, you can try to apply it but it doesn’t work. 

Mike and my 21-year-old stepson Jaden are slated to go camping today. Just a one-nighter off into the woods someplace. They’ve been talking about wanting to go all summer. My van traveling friends Linds and Brian are in town for a few weeks and they’ve agreed to come and stay with me when Mike takes off. Despite how much I am able to do on my own, it feels like a good safety measure to have someone here with me, especially with how limited my mobility is.

It’s been almost 2-weeks since my fall. I’ve heard from two friends and one family member who had surgery to repair a broken ankle. At least two of them had hardware installed much like mine. It really puts things into perspective. Ankle breaks, bone breaks, concussions, big accidents. They happen all the time. Every day. With how easy it is to think I am at the center of the universe, I truly appreciate reminders informing me otherwise. 

I was up in my wheelchair for a little bit this morning. It felt nice to sit upright and feel as though I was among the land of the living. The body position of full time bed rest with my foot elevated is supportive and comfortable enough but I miss having the ability to simply sit up. With the help of my wheelchair, I was able to make tea, hard boil some eggs and even do some dishes. I also read a few poems from Buddy Wakefield’s book I recently picked up from the Book Exchange. I was hoping to write some of my own poetry as well but I ran out of steam and needed to go back to bed and lie down. I am hoping to be able to make it to sangha on Monday night but we’ll see how it goes. Right now I’m not able to sit upright for very long. I get nauseous and my energy takes a dive after 15-minutes or so. Small steps. Healing takes time.