Musings of the InsightLA teachers
“If you’re not outraged, you’re not paying attention.”– Heather Heyer, who was tragically killed in Charlottesville, wrote this in what she did not know would be her last Facebook post.
We are saddened about the loss of a young woman who demonstrated against hate, and shocked by the neo-nazi demonstrators who think this violence is justified.
I find this tribute to forgiveness from Heather Heyer’s father profoundly moving. His words, spoken from his grieving heart, remind me of what Dr. King said, in what he did not know would be his last sermon, “I have decided to stick to love.” This is our path — to pay attention, and stick to love.
Yesterday in our early morning Deepening Your Practice class, I found myself quoting not the Buddha, but Pope Francis. The Pope recently gave a clear, moving talk about interconnectedness, lovingkindness and compassion. It was a TED talk! He sat at a desk in the Vatican and spoke to the whole world about a revolution of tenderness, “la tenerezza.” This is the love that is close, intimate and real. As he looked us in the eye, the power of love that connects, comforts, and cares was conveyed kindly and firmly. “Tenderness means using eyes to see each other, the ears to listen to the children, to the poor, to those who are afraid of the future, to the silent cry of our common home, of our sick and polluted earth.”
This is true strength, as we learn in Mindful Self Compassion class, the bravery it takes to open our hearts in genuine compassion for ourselves and our world. At this point in my practice, I feel so porous and permeable that everyone’s suffering permeates my heart, both human and nonhuman beings. It takes both fortitude and joy to bear the openness that comes when we don’t separate ourselves from all that is.
On this day, it’s good to be reminded that governments are only part of the picture. Our fate is in our mindful hands and strong hearts. It’s good to hear words of hope blooming in the midst of humanity’s tragedies. As Pope Francis says, “A single individual is enough for hope to exist and that individual can be you. And then there will be another you and another you and it turns into an us. When there is an ‘us’ there can be a revolution.” Let’s make it a revolution of tenderness, and bring all our courage and love into actual, concrete actions to protect all beings and a planet our human future can live in!
In the spirit of welcome, two of our wonderful team members at InsightLA, Mark and Sarah, chose our recent motto: “You Can Sit With Us”. It’s a reference to a scene in the movie “Mean Girls”. A popular girl who is sitting with her clique at lunch shrieks at a new girl (wearing sweatpants) who tries to join them, “You can’t sit with us!”. We are saying exactly the opposite: whoever you are, whatever kind of ‘clothes’ you wear (color, gender, age, class, abilities…), you can sit with us.
We’re following in the footsteps of the Buddha, who welcomed people from all walks of life into his Sangha. He lifted the lamp of Dharma and said, “Ehipassiko”. That’s Pali for “Come and see.” This is how he invited all suffering beings to walk through the Dharma door of liberty, insight and compassion — just like the poet Emma Lazarus’s sonnet, immortalized at the Statue of Liberty:
“…Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, … and her name
Mother of Exiles…
Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses,
yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost
I lift my lamp beside the golden door.”
At InsightLA, we’re working to make InsightLA a more inclusive space for everyone. However, we will inevitably make mistakes, for we aren’t separate from our society where prejudice and bias are institutionalized and widespread in ways that are mostly invisible to white people. In fact, this week it appears that some in our government intend to strengthen white privilege and exclude more people – “You can’t join us!” – rather than affirm the value and benefit of racial and gender equality, equity, refuge, and economic parity for our nation.
When I wrote about ‘white awareness’ three weeks ago, a friend felt excluded. Even though we don’t intend to offend, when the impact of what we say causes distress, our intention isn’t what matters. Attending to the impact matters most.
In all of our relationships, our efforts to grow in awareness and empathic response sometimes include missteps. We will always have a lot to forgive, in ourselves and in each other! This is how it is in our human world. Come and see.
A dozen years ago, I met an accomplished young yoga teacher from Toronto, Michael Stone. Michael had done a year of solo retreat in the northern woods of Canada and was diving deep into Buddhist meditation practice. We went for a long walk on the beach, Michael gesturing and tilting his head as he told his story. I admired his sincerity and dedication—he combined arduous and impeccable yoga training with social activism and a deep love of contemplative practice. That he was killer handsome didn’t hurt. His eyes were clear, his smile wide and warm, and his nose had just enough Semitic tilt to evoke affectionate memories of the men in my family. We became friends.
I traveled to Canada to teach a seminar for Michael’s group about mindfulness in psychotherapeutic work with kids. He came and taught at InsightLA. We shared our immense caring for the lives of children. We walked the streets of Old Town in Toronto, ate lunch at a hip French café, traded stories of love, heartbreak and dharma derring-do. I was touched by his eagerness to learn—everything.
Years passed. As our centers flourished and expanded, the demon busyness gobbled up our friendship. So I was glad to hear from Michael a couple years ago, asking me to read a book he was writing with a friend, a series of letters, intimate and open-hearted, about being partners and fathers. And then, once again, Michael fell off my radar—until I received a text message on Friday from Kristin Lehman, an InsightLA student who studies with him in Vancouver: Beloved Trudy. Michael Stone is in a coma. I wanted to let you know. Sending you metta and love always from far away.
Michael died Sunday evening. His wife Carina Stone, expecting their third baby, said, “He is the most generous, loving person I have known. I am grateful, I am sad. We are connected.” She shares the story of his suffering on his Facebook page and offers us the stark wisdom of the Zen evening verse:
Life and death are of supreme importance
Time passes swiftly and opportunity is lost
Let us awaken, awaken
Do not squander your life
And immense love:
May all beings be happy
May all beings be healthy
May all beings be safe and free from danger
May all beings be free from their ancient and twisted patterns
May all beings be free from every form of suffering
Last week I wrote about the camaraderie and solidarity among the folks who’d sat the silent meditation retreat at Vallecitos. For that time together, we formed a community of shared experience. It made me wonder, how can we create common memory and connection with people who don’t share our views and experience, given how divided our country feels right now? How can we join to face history and ourselves with mindfulness and compassion?
At dinner last night, I was talking with the mother of two high school kids who told me that what they’re learning in history class doesn’t reflect much of the truth of our history. We know that our country owes much of its land and prosperity to broken treaties and slavery, and that many of our greatest founding fathers and mothers were also racist owners of native lands and African slaves. Until we are able to learn, acknowledge and freely share the truth about our history, the present moment will be colored with delusion.
I think of mindfulness as honesty, opening a window to seeing clearly and telling the truth. This is one path I know to healing and reconciliation of our differences and conflicts. At InsightLA you can walk on this path with us, a path of white awareness, equity, and inclusion of all – of all our stories, our past, present and future together. Georges Erasmus, an Aboriginal leader from Canada, said, “Where common memory is lacking… there can be no real community. Where community is to be formed, common memory must be created.”
I’m in the shuttle bus to Albuquerque after teaching a meditation retreat at Vallecitos Mountain Ranch in the mountains of northern New Mexico. After a bumpy 11 miles of dirt road we reach paved road, leaving the beautiful Carson National Forest wilderness behind. Half of the retreatants are on this bus.
Everyone is talking, sharing, laughing, leaning over seatbacks towards one another. What a contrast to the silence of retreat, only accentuated by birdsongs echoing across the granite walls of the valley, the low sigh of wind in the pine woods, the soft song of the river in the distance. The stillness of solitude in nature has vanished.
Though experiences are as different as we are, we all share a common memory of retreat adventures at Vallecitos—sitting and walking meditation, walking through Elk Meadow or along the Continental Divide Trail, lying on the forest floor watching huge clouds float across the cobalt blue sky. We all practiced together as the wild lupine began to bloom, daisies peeked above the grass, two mama does tended their fawns, and little chipmunks scurried around. Learning to be present with our various joys and sorrows, retreat is a time to walk peacefully through the interior topography of our lives.
From a disparate group of individuals arriving to deepen our practice of mindfulness and compassion, we now feel like family. Everyone is happier than when they arrived. A loving community has formed from the common memories we share.
This video from the Cleveland Clinic, “Empathy: The Human Connection to Patient Care”, was shown at InsightLA a few years ago. It shows a miraculous seeing into the hearts of others with eyes of compassion. If only we would see beyond the different roles and personalities we all inhabit to the one family we actually are!
Meditation allows us to be still and let the heart flower into new understanding and tenderness—this is the miracle of mindfulness! To paraquote the poet Walt Whitman:
Why, who makes much of a miracle?
As to me I know of nothing else but miracles,
Whether I walk the streets of Los Angeles,
Or dart my sight over the roofs of houses toward the sky,
Or wade with naked feet along the beach just in the edge of
To me the sea is a continual miracle,
The fishes that swim—the rocks—the motion of the waves—
the ships with people in them,
What stranger miracles are there?
With mindful walking and quiet sitting, we develop the ability to intuit, to see under the surface of things. We tune into universal rhythms of both the human and non-human worlds. Births and celebrations and losses and milestones touch our hearts while the earth turns on its axis and brings the seasons.
Wednesday was the summer solstice, the longest day of the year. Tonight the moon is waning, as a radiant crescent slivers into darkness. Here in the Northern hemisphere, we’ve been living each day a little longer. The majestic sun lingers slow and bright in the afternoon sky. This is the turning, light sheared off days by seconds, then minutes, till the longest night of winter solstice. This is the life of our world.
There is no other life—just this: the gradual turning of immense currents of light and dark, the miracle of incarnation, of empathy and compassion, embodied in each of you, in each one of us.
You know how sometimes you agree to do something and then when that time rolls around, you’re really sorry? A while ago I said I’d teach an online video course for Conscious2. Teaching this way was definitely an edge for me… How do you act animated and natural when teaching to a glassy black camera lens in a studio empty of students?
The course title is “Everything Is Your Path.” Which means doing videos now must be my path if I’m walking my talk, taking whatever happens as a chance to learn and overcome fears, I simply did it. Guess what?— mindfulness works LOL! It felt completely natural. I even enjoyed teaching the way I do when you’re in the room with me. And I think the course is well-designed and good. It’s not for complete beginners, but for people who have some practice and want to go further.
In this course, we look at bringing mindfulness and kindness to your whole life, to body, heart and mind.
One of the thoughts I had to work with arose when I looked at myself in the mirror. Why couldn’t I have recorded video teachings when I was 20 or 30 years younger!? I smiled with loving awareness. We all want to look good …. awww…. this is tender, poignant vanity. And it actually looks pretty good as it is.
This Sunday, there’s a free 2-hour Livestream so you can sample the teaching and decide if the more in-depth class is for you. It’s a very generous offering, and I thank the students who participated. For all of you who’ve longed for some online Sunday sitting group, I hope you’ll come join me.
Tuesday morning when I took out the recycling, I saw several people up and down the alley bending over the big bins searching through the trash. I’d never seen so many people—all looking like homeless grandparents—foraging in the alley. The bottle and can collectors and the homeless folks were quietly working to gather whatever they could find to redeem, sell, or eat. Seeing this, my heart was heavy. I remember when homeless people were a rare sight on our streets.
The night before, I’d learned about the terror attack in Manchester. With immense sorrow, we mourn the loss of innocent lives—and the loss of carefree concert-going. Can we ever let our kids go to concerts again without worrying? When did concerts and public spaces become known as “soft targets”? How do we stay present and brave in the face of poverty, violence, and fears for our home, planet Earth?
With a little bit of mindfulness training, we learn how to use our right as human beings to choose how and where to direct our attention. When we notice that our attention is caught by frightening images, stuck on anxious or angry thoughts, or sinking into despair, we free our hearts by shifting back to our practice, over and over again. Mindfulness and compassion can go anywhere! Even when the hurt seems too huge, and overwhelming, loving awareness can be strong enough to hold it with clarity and understanding. We learn how to meet suffering and tragedy without closing our hearts. We’re all together here.
This means, my tears fall with yours. Our tears fall with all the tears in Manchester.