When Helping Can Hurt

Have you ever been out and seen someone where your heart just goes out to them? Where you can see their pain so clearly, and yet see their luminous self at the same time?

That happened this morning. As I was leaving the grocery store, a person was coming in who was emaciated, that anorexic, bone-showing kind of skinny. They also had so much makeup on that you could not see what they really looked like.

(Nothing against makeup. It’s an incredible form of self-expression. I have an artist friend who is incredibly skilled with makeup. It brings them joy. But in this case, it seemed like something to hide behind.)

Their pain was palpable. (Of course, this could be merely my projection. They might have been perfectly happy.) And at the same time, it was like I could see their luminous self. Some traditions might call it their Christ light, soul, inner spirit, deity within, or any of a thousand other words.

It felt like the luminous self in me instantly recognized the luminous self in them. I wanted to draw out that luminous self. To help them break through this tightly woven pattern of shame and self-hate. I wanted to go up to them and tell them they were so precious. But I didn’t. That would have been an invasion of privacy and unwanted attention.

I let them pass and did some loving kindness/compassion practice: May you have happiness and the true causes of happiness. May you be free from suffering and the causes of suffering.

When I got home and got the groceries put away, this person was still on my mind. It made me think a friend of mine who clearly and self-admittedly experienced a great deal of trauma from early on. They had needed to shut down emotionally to cope with the trauma, and still feel unsafe to come out.

I was thinking how much I wanted to help my friend see that the world can be safe. I wanted to drag them out of what I saw as a self-created prison. I wanted to force them to face their past and recover.

Then I realized that they might not be ready. Their method of shielding themself was like a scab covering their woundedness. Trying to “help” them would be like tearing off their scab. It would re-wound them. If you pick a scab before the wound is healed, more blood flows and it delays the healing process.

By confronting them to see their coping mechanisms and deal with their trauma, it would only injure them further. It would teach them even more to not trust the world and the people in it. The most compassionate thing is to love them exactly where they are, who they are, as they are.

In the end, perhaps this reminded me to be compassionate with myself, too. I’m not where I want to be, but I’m sure a hell of a lot better than I was! I guess I just want to say, be kind to others. Allow them to be who they are and just love them. Or, as NBC news anchor Lester Holt says, “Please take care of yourself, and each other.”

Photo by Chris Galbraith on Unsplash

Turning Anger Into Wisdom: How the Poison Becomes the Medicine

Yesterday, I learned a truth in my personal life that changed everything. It is a situation that, normally, I would be furious about. When a similar thing happened in the past, I raged, I cried, and I doubted myself. Today I have none of that.

There is a saying in Buddhism about turning poison into medicine. For different kleshas, there is an inherent “medicine.” Kleshas is defined as “mental states that cloud the mind and manifest in unwholesome actions such as anxiety, fear, anger, jealousy, desire, and depression.” It is said that anger can transform into mirror-like wisdom.

This never made sense to me… until today. I woke up with zero anger. Instead, I woke up with a profound sadness. I’ve heard so many times that our confusion drives our suffering. I had understood that, intellectually, but never felt that.

Today, all I can see is how mistaking “the causes of happiness” leads directly to suffering. Suffering comes when we mistake that “thing”— a person, object, event, life circumstance, or whatever—as the thing that will make us happy. We go after that “thing” with a craving like no other. We think it will make us happy. We chase it, however unhealthy and destructive it might be.

This “thing” can even be more nebulous, such as an idea, a belief, a thought, or a plan. We cling to this thing or follow this idea or plan. Sometimes we achieve the thing we were chasing, but even then, we are still unhappy.

Today, all I can see is how someone’s confusion, the thinking that something outside themselves will bring happiness, directly led to intense suffering. I see how this confusion turned into craving. They believed, “I HAVE to have this, regardless of the consequences.” It is so sad to see someone completely blow up their life chasing a false idea of what will bring happiness.

Even as I write this, I know it sounds so trite. It sounds empty. There is no way to truly convey my mental state right now.

What I do know is that I am extremely grateful to have a path to follow: a 12-step program that eventually led me to be open to a Buddhist path. The practice of meditation, the study, the contemplation, and putting into action these principles of Buddhism (and the 12 steps) have cleared the way to wisdom.

Now, this wisdom is probably fleeting. It is merely a glimpse of the possibility of true awakening. But today, the first day of Losar (the Tibetan New Year), I am more dedicated than ever to the path of meditation as presented by my teachers.

For anyone still listening, I will say this: The peace I have today is a direct result of dedicating myself to a spiritual path. For you, it may not be Buddhism. It could be any tradition. A spiritual path can lead to an awakening when followed deeply with study, contemplation, meditation, and application. How profound that awakening will be, depends entirely on your effort. I pray that you may find peace today.

Photo by Rishabh Dharmani on Unsplash

33 Years Plus 1 Day Sober

Yesterday marked my 33rd anniversary of stopping drinking. Yesterday was uneventful. A friend took me out for breakfast and gave me a medallion. I picked up groceries. I made dinner.

This time of year brings a bit of melancholy. It could be the first hints of fall encroaching on the last blasts of summer. Or it could be that this time of year, 33 years ago, was the absolute low point of my life. A time with no hope. A time when I didn’t think I would make it 30 days.

This morning, I took my dog on a walk. It was about 50 degrees F, and the sky was blue with virtually no wildfire smoke. I live on the US West Coast, and wildfire is a real threat.

Fire ripped through here last year in September. Hundreds of people lost their homes. We were evacuated for 10 days. We were so grateful our home was spared and so sad that so many friends lost everything. A couple blocks in one direction a whole neighborhood burned to the ground. In the other direction, a wide swath of business were razed, including a local favorite donut shop.

On our walk this morning, we stopped by the dog park. Next to the dog park, where many homes had burned down, rebuilding was nearing completion on at least a dozen houses. Of course, the line of old trees that once separated the homes from the park is gone.

All of these things I notice. While at the park, several old men walked by, each with their little dog, each having left the house without their hearing aids. I exchanged waves as each one passed. In the distance, an occasional clank or clink sounded from someone practicing horseshoes.

So what’s the point? Maybe it’s just the joy in the little things in my sober life. Of noticing people. Noticing the variation in wood used for fencing. Noticing the dew turning the tips of my shoes dark. None of these things would have been noticed when in the self-obsession of active alcoholism.

“Why,” you might ask, “do you still go to meetings?”

Put simply, I’m not perfect yet. I still have so much room to grow. It’s also the great pleasure I get from working with others. And that brings me to the current studies I’m undertaking.

I’m participating in a year-long program focused on Shantideva’s The Way of the Bodhisattva. Shantideva was an 8th century Indian philosopher and Buddhist monk, The more I learn, the more I realize just how much a 12-step program is a bodhisattva’s path.

And just as I would not have found this path without my journey in recovery, my journey on my spiritual path makes my program of recovery more clear.

Just last night I read these words by Shantideva:

“If those who are like wanton children
Are by nature prone to injure others,
What point is there in being angry–
Like resenting fire for its heat?”

As I study, I learn more tools to disarm my resentment, which is paramount to recovery.

So, today, I’m so grateful for this journey. I’m so grateful to have decades of sobriety. There have been many moments when I did not think I could go on another moment. But I did. I did not give up. I pray that I may continue to make sobriety a priority in my life. And if you’re struggling, just hold on one more minute… as I used to say in my Deadhead days, “Expect a Miracle!”

If I Could Blow Away Confusion

So, why can’t we all just get along? Isn’t that the Big Question.

I’m learning that at the core of each being is the desire to be happy and free from suffering. The problem is that, in our confusion, we usually go about it in ways which just create more suffering.

I’m just starting on a year-long study of The Way of the Bodhisattva by Shantideva through Tergar’s Vajryana Online program. Pretty heady title, and I don’t have any illusion that I can help everyone. But I can start with myself.

In meditation today, I got a sense of how our confusion plays out. We are like people in a brightly lit room with blindfolds on. As we search for our way, we bump into walls or tables. We curse the wall for being in the way. We might even try to smash our way through it. This only serves to hurt us more.

We might trip over a cord. We curse the ground for being so hard. We pound our hands on the hard surface. We may rant about the person who put that cord there.

We want to just blast everything out of our path. But what if we could just take off our blindfold?

Nothing actually changes in the room. The light was always there. The tables, walls, and cords are still there. With the light, clarity, we can simply make our way around the obstacles.

Of course, this is all so easy to say, but how does it actually work? I’m so blinded by my ways of thinking about the world, my insistence that I am Right, and my ideas about how things should be. How do I learn (and remember) to see things just as they are? Without my assumptions? Without my interpretations.

Maybe, just maybe, I can learn to remove my own blindfold. Once I do that, maybe, just maybe, I can help others learn to remove their blindfold.

So, anyway, for the time being, I’ll look at myself. Through meditation and working with others I will try to see my patterns. I am so amazed by how this Buddhist study dovetails so perfectly with my 12-step program. One informs the other. One motivates the other. As you go through your day, may you have boundless clarity and happiness.

Life is Curious

I used to think that it was up to me to go out and find a teacher. Now, as I am more still, I find that the teacher is everywhere.

The image of the Green Tara has been repeatedly showing up for me. In Tibetan Buddhism, she is a mother figure of Compassion, similar to Quan Yin or the Virginia Mary.

Ive been trying to learn more, but in the path I am studying, I’m not quite to the point where formal study on this happens. But she is showing up. This is how Higher Power has always worked for me. When I look, I find myself being guided.

Here’s the details on the past 5 days. Wednesday morning, in a Zoom meditation group out of Portland, someone casually mentioned Yangsi Rinpoche. He is part of Maitripa College in Portland.

After the practice, I made my way to the college’s website, then to their “Community page. After clicking a couple more links, not really looking for anything in particular, I found that that night there would be a free Zoom Green Tara practice.

I showed up, and it felt like coming home. I felt so completely where I was supposed to be. I was open and able to receive the gift that the teacher was offering.

Now it is Sunday. I saw a post from a friend about Lama Rod Owen. After clicking the link on the post and poking around there, I again decided to do a Google search. The second item on the results page was this: “Introduction to the Tantric Practice of Taking Tara as the Path”

In both these instances, Wednesday and Sunday, Tara was the farthest thing from my mind. And I was led to her.

This reminds me of the saying, “It’s easier for God to steer a moving vehicle.” Basically, I just need to start moving. I don’t have to figure out the “Right Path”. Once I’m taking some kind of action, I will be guided.

Oh, did I mention that Tara is also a goddess of navigation? I feel like she has always been close to me, this energy of compassion, care, and guidance.

Back in my Deadhead days, I knew that I could never get lost. Trying to get back to our spot on the lawn amid thousands of tie-dyed hippies, I would relax and just feel guided. I would stop and look and realize that I had found my friends.

So, what’s the point of these little anecdotes? Maybe there isn’t one. I don’t know if I will eventually do diety practice. What I do know is that I am on the path. My path. Exactly where I should be.

We all have one path: our own. You cannot get lost because there is nowhere else to be. Otherwise, you’d already be there. May this post take a little stress out of your day.

365 Days of Meditation

Early last month (December 6 to be exact), I achieved 365 days of meditation in a row. That’s right. Every day, for 365 days, I meditated at least once. Now, some of the days were just a couple minutes. Other days, like during a retreat, I logged hours over a weekend.

What happens after you meditate every day for a year? Probably depends on what practice you follow. Personally, I follow programs from Tergar. They have a clear plan with ‘levels’ to progress.

The results: I find it much easier to return to calm after being upset. This is a biggie. I could hold a grudge, or feel triggered, for hours. A direct result of meditation is being able to “see” the chatter in my head and identify it as such. Chatter. It’s not based in reality. I could then let go of those thoughts and get on with the business of the moment.

Another benefit is that I don’t get so worked up to begin with. Of course, I still do. If you have relationships with other humans, stuff comes up. People will annoy you. Sometimes I can just feel compassion for that person. I can not take it personally. I look to where I can be helpful in the situation. It doesn’t have to ruin a whole day, or even a whole hour or even at all.

As far as being able to establish a daily practice, I can’t stress how important it is to have a teacher or method. If I was just ‘winging it,’ I could not have done this.

I’m not saying you have to do this program. But I would urge you to follow some kind of ‘program,’ or at least something to guide you through daily meditation. Maybe a Christian or Buddhist or 12-step daily meditation book. It’s important to not just read it. Thy to contemplate, then meditate.

After 30+ years of trying to establish a daily practice, I feel like I’m pretty solid. With Tergar’s Joy of Living programs, you get a booklet with guidance for that week’s meditation. I didn’t have to stick with that, but having a ‘destination’ in mind helps.

Maybe just start by committing to silent meditation for two minutes every day for a week. See how you feel. Then maybe stretch to 5 minutes. Watch your thoughts while waiting in line or waiting in traffic. Whatever works for you.

And you don’t have to sit in any specific position, or hold your hands a certain way, or chant anything in specific or close your eyes. Just sit. It helps to be sitting upright, but sitting in a chair is fine. I hope you can find a path that leads you to serenity. May you never be parted from sublime bliss, free from suffering.

Meditation: A Football Analogy

Thoughts are like tacklers in football. They latch on and try to drag you down.

I was thinking about something my son forgot. It really wasn’t a big deal. Then I thought about something else he forgot. Then it was about all the things he had ever forgotten, and then how it must be disrespect, because if he really respected me he would…..

And just like that, I’m down on the ground.

All this happened while I was sitting in meditation. And, no, the focus was not supposed to be about all the awful things I imagined others doing. It was supposed to be open awareness, just noticing the sights, smells, sounds, thoughts, etc. right where I was, right in the moment.

This assault of my thoughts reminded me of football. My free mind is like the running back in an open field. Then one thought comes flying at me. Maybe it misses, but it slows me down. It slows me down enough that the next thought grabs my shoulder, but I spin and stay in open awareness. The next one grabs my leg and won’t let go. Pretty soon, I’m Ezekiel Elliot lurching forward, dragging four of five defenders with me.

Luckily, that’s where the metaphor ends. With thoughts, by simply noticing them, acknowledging them, allowing them to be without pushing them away or chasing after them, awareness loosens their hold.

By practicing meditation on a regular basis, I become aware of the extra baggage more quickly. I free myself from all that extra weight and can more fully respond to what is actually happening. I don’t have to walk around without all these extra thoughts dragging me down.

The Impermanence of Clean Dishes

I am a terrible housekeeper. I just don’t like cleaning. Among my many faults, people-pleasing is not one of them. This is unfortunate, because my primary role for the last 15 years or so has been that of the stay-at-home mom.

This is an issue I’ve addressed over and over and over. I’ve written about it in 4th steps, I’ve talked to therapists, I’ve tried different methods such as Fly Lady and hired a personal organizer (who helped phenomenally). Whatever I did, that underlying (and sometimes overwhelming) dread of having to do housework never left.

I recently saw a meme that said, “I’ve always loved butterflies because they remind us that it’s never too late to transform ourselves.” Perhaps something might shift.

In my meditation practice this morning, I recited, one more time, “Like waves in the ocean all things are impermanent. I will accept whatever happens and make it my friend.“

It suddenly struck me, my false belief is that the dishes will magically stay clean! I will go a while, keeping up with this ever-so-mundane chore, then get frustrated that, no matter how hard I work, everything just gets dirty again. I have this ridiculous expectation that there will be a point where I will be “Done.”

But, the impermanence of the clean dish defies my desperate wishes. Perhaps a slight attitude shift will help me. I’ve been stuck in this pointless grasping at the idea that housework is a one-and-done situation.

Perhaps if I can view the mounting dirty dishes as just a wave in the ocean and make it my friend, my stress, agitation, frustration, and anger about constantly doing dishes will abate. I could approach this chore like greeting a dear person I hadn’t seen in a while….

Or, at least maybe I won’t be so snappish when I leave the kitchen spotless only to return less than an hour later and find five plates, two bowls, countless silverware and cups and empty cereal boxes and yogurt containers and massive piles of god-knows-what spread out all over the counter, stove, top of microwave, and any other flat surface.

Image by pignuna from Pixabay

Grab the Rope

I just finished day 2 of a four-day Buddhist retreat. It has been joyous, frustrating, boring, and hysterical. So many things were affirmed for me. Perhaps mostly, once again, I see the root of all spiritual paths to be the same. The more I learn about Buddhism, the deeper my understanding of the 12-steps gets.

Yesterday, we had a teaching from Khenpo Kunga. He was talking about how we take refuge. He likened it to being in rough water. There are other people there, but when we try to grab onto others who are also struggling in the water, it can make it worse.

We see the shore. The shore is safe haven. One could call it Buddha, or God, or Higher Power. But just seeing it does not help.

Then we see someone is standing on the shore. They see us, but they cannot reach us. How can they help?

The person on shore can throw us the rope. The rope is a method to reach the shore. You could call this the Dharma or you could call it the 12 steps. But just seeing the rope, having it thrown at us, does not help.

We must each grab the rope to pull ourselves to safety. That is how the others around us can help. The can give us directions. When someone makes it to shore, they have a clearer understanding to guide us to where the rope is and teach us how to haul ourselves out of the suffering.

Those who call to us to grab the rope, who show us that it can be done, to show us how they did it, could be called the sangha, or the congregation, or the Fellowship of a 12-step program. The person who made it to shore and can better guide us to the rope could be called a sponsor.

No matter how strong the rope, how firm the shore, or how many people have made it out, the bottom line is, I must grab the rope. I must make the effort. I must put in motion the causes to bring about my own recovery.

There are so many out there drowning. If I throw you a rope, would you grab it?

Ready to Retreat

I’m nervous. I’m entering a four-day meditation retreat in the morning. I’ve never done anything like this before.

I’ve been practicing a style of Tibetan Buddhism for about a year and a half. Before that, with 30 years sober in a 12-step program, I’ve had periods of doing a bunch of different meditation styles. But I had never been able to establish a regular daily practice.

Then I attended a Tergar Joy of Living workshop in early 2019. That changed everything for me.

Isn’t that what are lives are? A series of ‘events’ that change everything?

Anyway, Tergar usually has annual summer retreats in Minnesota. Of course, this year, the year of The Virus, that’s not possible. So, they decided to make the retreats online. My husband and I were excited about that because it would be so much cheaper (and more convenient) to do a retreat without having to travel.

But our home is not very conducive to quiet retreat. Several different retreats will take place consecutively. So, my husband had the idea that we take turns and stay at a hotel to

get as immersive an experience as possible. He did his a couple weeks ago. Now it’s my turn.

While I was packing a few things, I realized I was nervous. It’s going to be a lot of meditation. I typically do 20-30 minutes of meditation daily. The retreat will be several hours of meditation each day. Can I do it?

Then I realized there was something else going on. I was nervous about checking into a hotel and staying locked in the room for four days. For this addict, that feels like old behavior; the only reason to stay inside a hotel room for four days without leaving would be to have a cocaine, alcohol, and/other substance binge.

The thought of checking into the hotel brought up that old insanity, the ceaseless cycle of craving. It reminded me of the grinding pain that active addiction brings. I could feel the jones.

Tonight, tucked into this little room, I participated in our group’s meditation practice via Zoom. We did a thing of deconstructing emotions. I was able to look at all the different physical sensations this anxiety was creating, and that made the anxiety seem much less solid. After feeling like i couldn’t breathe all day, I’m finally relaxed.

The retreat starts at 7 a.m. so for now, I can just chill and enjoy eating the snacks I brought. Until tomorrow….