Pristine, clear, open, spacious
Uncluttered by thought
Filled only with possibility
Pristine, clear, open, spacious
Uncluttered by thought
Filled only with possibility
Dissolving the boundaries between you and me
Them and us
This and that
Just seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting, touching
Coming to know
Opening to each moment as though it were a loved one
Willing to be touched and moved and changed by the experience
Without an agenda
Doing what needs to be done as that need is revealed
Not needing anything or anyone to be this way or that
Trusting that it already is and will continue to be just as it should.
Things I am grateful for this morning:
My practice and the people who sit with me in the Virtual Meditation Hall every morning.
The opportunity to give back to my community and deepen my own practice by serving as Meditation Guide, Dorje Kasung, and, hopefully soon, as Course Leader.
The patience, kindness, generosity, and wisdom of my meditation teacher, Nick Kranz.
My dog Shadow who is snoring contentedly at my feet as I type this.
My sweetie who is snoring contentedly downstairs on the couch where he fell asleep last night and the many opportunities to deepen my practice of compassion, patience, loving kindness, generosity, and wisdom as we each walk our paths, together as a couple, and individually as learning, growing, perfectly imperfect human beings.
More work than I know what to do with right now and the abundance that it brings in the form of opportunities to attend programs like Enlightened Society Assembly and help others in a myriad of ways.
The dear Dharma friends with whom I share daily or near daily emails of inspiration and reflection.
Clear skies, cloudy skies, sunrises and sunsets.
Trees, like those pictured above. This is what I see when I turn the corner to walk out of our townhouse complex every morning. It feels like they are waving, waiting to greet me.
The smell and the feel of the crisp spring morning air carrying the songs of cardinals and chickadees.
Cousins who still call me and email me even though the introvert in me is horrible at maintaining contact and accepting invitations.
I could go on and on but the crisp spring morning air is beckoning.
Of something that I once held so dear
Planned my life around
Poured my heart and soul into
The pain is almost unbearable
An aching, nauseating, clenching
I want to run, screaming, flailing against the hurt
And the loss
Instead I sit wrapped in a blue woolen shawl
Itself a reminder, but of the kindness and warmth and love
I hold it and am held by it, cherishing it, even as I grieve
And navigate the nothingness between no more and not yet
Broken open once again into the fullness of life
And a deeper knowing of love’s own longing to be remembered
As something that is always here and cannot be destroyed.
The silkiness of Shadow’s fur
And the gentle rhythm of his breath – and mine – as he curls up at my feet.
I soften into this day.
I would love to hear what magic is happening within you and around you in this moment?!
May we open to it and share it, the world needs it!
The morning sun streams down
Casting shadows in one corner even as it warms another
Illuminating uplifting radiating
The vast everchanging aliveness and splendour Of now
Made by this
Made for this
Made of this
We are that which can never be swept away
We are Love
Yesterday was Shambhala Day, a day of practice and celebration to mark the new year according to the Tibetan lunar calendar. It is a time to express appreciation, not only for our teachers and teachings, but also for our connection to each other and to the basic goodness that is inherent in us and in all things. I’ve listened to the Sakyong’s Shambhala Day Address three times so far, and to say that I feel inspired and uplifted and re-energized, after an incredibly difficult month, would be an understatement. I am so proud and so honoured to be a part of this beautiful and brave community of tender, open hearted, kind and loving warriors.
The quote is from Rinpoche’s book, The Shambhala Principal Discovering Humanity’s Hidden Treasure and it feels so relevant to yesterday’s Address where he asked us to contemplate how we can help.
As I contemplate that question what comes up for me, as I shared with a friend via email, is a sense of gentleness, softness, and opening around my heart, kind of a warm glow, and it just seems to get bigger the longer I sit with it. What if I took a few seconds to drop into that before each interaction I have with another being, in person, or electronically; or when I notice that I am spinning around in my head about something; maybe even just randomly throughout the day?
How might that help? How would I feel? How would the other person feel? How might it change the next moment for both of us? For the next person we both interact with or the next task we undertake?
I would love to hear your thoughts! What comes up for you as you contemplate that question?
How might I help?
This weekend, I did a home retreat, partly because it’s a long weekend here in Toronto, Canada and that’s what I do for at least a part of most long weekends. It’s an opportunity to just be, away from the demands of the typical workday or weekend, and to go a little deeper than usual with my meditation and contemplation practice and study.
I was also studying for a course I am taking at my local Shambhala Centre. One of the questions related to culture and ceremony within my practice community of Shambhala Buddhism. In one of the reference texts, THE SHAMBHALA PRINCIPLE Discovering Humanity’s Hidden Treasure, the author and head of our lineage, Sakyong Mipham Rinpoche writes:
“The power of ceremony is that through the rituals of our day, we understand who we are…” and asks “What are our ceremonies celebrating?”
When I arrived at the Shambhala Centre on Sunday morning, one of the course leaders, who knew that I had spent the previous day in retreat, commented that here it was another beautiful day and I was spending it inside, practicing and studying. Yes, I quipped, half joking, that seems to be one of my ceremonies.
The heartfelt truth and celebration in that statement didn’t really land until this morning when the trees at my favourite outside sit spot came into view. I smiled and quickened my pace, my heart gladdening as I imagined the trees, dear friends by now, waving at me, welcoming me back.
I go there most mornings between 7-8 am. Sometimes the ground and the trees are covered in snow, sometimes the air and the ground (and my hair) is heavy with humidity; sometimes the sun is just rising, sometimes it is already up and beaming brightly; sometimes painting the sky a brilliant pallet of pink, orange, grey, blue, almost purple, sometimes vibrant and full, sometimes softer and more pastel; sometimes there are clouds, white and fluffy, or dark and foreboding; sometimes there is just a vast, open blueness as far as the eye can see.
I’ve done it often enough over the last year that I’ve seen most of the variations at least a dozen times, but each time it seems so fresh and new, as though it’s the very first time I’ve ever seen anything like it.
How can that be?! I ask myself this question every morning as I marvel at the beauty that is all around me, above, below, behind and in front, everywhere I look.
This morning it dawned on me (not for the first time but in a slightly different way, more on that later*) that it’s because I open to what is there, I see, I hear, I smell, I taste, I touch and allow myself, my heart really, to be touched by all of it. It often feels as though my heart is actually expanding in my chest, filling with gratitude for being able to experience all of this so vividly. My life force awakens as I breathe in the beauty through every pore and I taste the salt in the joy-filled tear that trickles down my cheek.
This is what I celebrate. This is my ceremony, a ceremony of appreciation, joy, gratitude, and wakeful, open heart.* Even when it’s cloudy and dreary or the winter air is biting at my nose or my t-shirt is clinging to my sweat-drenched back and I’d really rather not move another muscle.
I felt drawn to reflect on some of the other opportunities I have each day to celebrate and open my heart to what is right in front of me, some of it mundane and some of it profound:
Tenderly stroking my partner’s forehead as he sleeps.
My dog snuggling into my leg, trusting me with the weight of his peaceful slumber as I sip my first mug of hot, milky, aromatic coffee.
The brave warriors who gave up their Saturday to deepen their practice with me in an “across the miles” retreat.
Another group of warriors who gave up their Sunday to courageously share their hearts and their wisdom as we take yet another step together on our path to becoming Shambhala Guides.
When a trusted mentor says “I’ve got your back.”
Being moved to tears as I see my meditation teacher, an embodiment of wakeful open heart, seated in front of the shrine as he gives a Dharma talk, photographs of our lineage holders on either side of him, and feeling such a profound connection to him and to the entire lineage of practitioners and awakened beings through him.
Spending Friday evenings with a dear Dharma friend on Skype, sitting together for 30 minutes and then sharing tea, laughter, wisdom and sometimes tears.
Exchanging daily emails of connection, curiosity and inspiration with yet another Dharma friend.
Hugging someone and being hugged by them in a way that says I see you, all of you, and I care about you, I really do.
Offering a gentle smile of acknowledgement, recognition and caring to the homeless man in front of McDonald’s.
Feeling and seeking support when I need it to help me feel the whole range of confusing, conflicting emotions that accompany a recent loss, owning my part in what happened and honoring my need to distance myself from it, while not putting the other person involved out of my heart, knowing the confusion and longing to find happiness and avoid suffering that we all experience as part of our shared humanity.
This is what I celebrate: This precious human birth, with all of its opportunities to awaken and to feel and to know what is real.