Day 4
Yesterday I was feeling a bit run down.
So I put the heating pad on, propped my feet up, and finished my work day from the couch.
In the past, I might have “pushed through.”
The work we’re doing here helps me choose differently these days. So does continuing to learn from my own practice, my own imperfections, and of course — my own teachers.
I’ve mentioned her before, and I’ll surely mention her again — my teacher (and many of yours) Pema Chödrön, a Zen Buddhist nun in her 80s, who found meditation mid-life when she learned her husband had cheated on her. She’s a mother, a grandmother, a teacher, a forever student, the former head of Gampo Abbey — a monastery hanging off the edge of the cliffs on the harshest coasts of Nova Scotia, and writer of such stunningly titled books as When Things Fall Apart.
This is from Pema to me to you, Part 1.
From When Things Fall Apart …
“I used to have a sign pinned up on my wall that read: ‘Only to the extent that we can expose ourselves over and over again to annihilation can that which is indestructible be found in us.’ Somehow, even before I heard the Buddhist teachings, I knew that this was the spirit of true awakening. It was all about letting go of everything.
Nevertheless, when the bottom falls out and we can’t find anything to grasp, it hurts a lot. … We might have some romantic view of what that means, but when we are nailed with the truth, we suffer. We look in the bathroom mirror, and there we are with our pimples, our aging face, our lack of kindness, our aggression and timidity — all that stuff.
This is where tenderness comes in. When things are shaky and nothing is working, we might realize we are on the verge of something. We might realize that this is a very vulnerable and tender place, and that tenderness can go either way. We can shut down and feel resentful or we can touch in on that throbbing quality. There is definitely something tender and throbbing about groundlessness.”
DAY 4: EARLY MORNING MEDITATION (Just 5 MIN)
LEAVE A COMMENT:
When was the last time you were tender? Maybe … we can be, right now? (Maybe not ;)
To the tenderness, today. And more tomorrow —
Cath