Another Invitation to Love

Grief as I felt it this afternoon was of the more subtle kind. Nobody had died. Instead, I had been reminded of a painful bond, a loss not clearly visible to the outside world, but very real nevertheless. Heart aching still, I got to see up close again, the suffering that comes when love gets thrown back onto itself, with no one to respond at the other end. This is where mindfulness practice is put to the test. Mindfulness helps one to not wallow in self-pity and despair. Instead, one can investigate the full impact of hanging on to the idea of love on one's own terms. One can feel the physical pain from grasping, and make the connection with ancient wisdom. 

Every time I fall into that place, I feel compelled to revisit Ayya Khema's Metta talk. And each time, I come up with another treasure. 

There are six billion of us, so why diminish ourselves to one, two, or three? And not only that, the whole problem lies in the fact that because it is attachment, we've got to *keep* those one, two, or three in order to experience any kind of love. We are afraid to lose them: to lose them through death, through change of mind, to leaving home, to whatever change happens. And that fear discolors our love to the point where it can no longer be pure, because it is hanging on.

Grief begs us to listen to the suffering within, and to slowly let go of the cause. Life is too short to waste one more moment in self-inflicted misery. True love is limitless and independent of external conditions.

Mindfulness, Memory, and Wisdom

Ayya Khema talks about this life as an ongoing adult education course. The main topic of the class is wisdom, of course. Many times, I find myself faced with a situation where mindfulness offers the possibility of choice. This way, or that one. Usually, the most immediate impulse is not the most advisable one. Underlying tendencies die hard, and always raise their heads when emotions are involved. This is particularly true for primary relationships. But if one has developed enough insight, the mind does not give way to such impulses. Instead, the memory of prior similar times with the same person or a different one, provides scenarios ripe for contemplation. 

Twenty years ago, when I did not know about the hindrances and their way of overtaking the heart, I let anger sever a precious bond, and a very sad story unfolded in the aftermath. Twenty years later, I am still feeling the effects of my decision. I also have a chance to not repeat the past, this time with a different partner. Whenever  I find myself triggered, I now have mindfulness to rest on, and the wisdom to choose not to react to the outer trigger. The urge to love has also become greater than the iron hotness of anger. Every night, I dwell in the garden of my heart, and I survey the situation. First, noticing the weeds, a resentment, some fear, greed, whatever they may be, I know better than to let them overtake the beautiful flowers which I know to be there. I give it a try. Pulling out the weeds sometimes takes for than one try. Those things have a way of digging deep, fast, and it may take days, weeks, months, before I can enjoy the peace and love again. 

The ability to remember is key to this whole process. Without memory, the mind cannot learn nor make the leap of inference from one past event to the present moment. Science tells us this about episodic memory:

Episodic or implicit memory is the memory of an event or “episode”. [...] Episodic memory can be thought of as a process with several different steps, each of which relies on a separate system of the brain. The initial step in forming this type of memory is called encoding. Encoding is necessary for the acquisition of new factual knowledge. [...] The step by which the information is accessed and brought back into consciousness is called retrieval. [...] Research and clinical experience suggest that information is not simply stored and retrieved, and that there may be an intermediate step in this process, which we call consolidation. Consolidation is the process by which recently learned information becomes more strongly represented in the brain.

This morning, feeling grateful for the gifts of mindfulness, memory, and wisdom. 

The First Day of Your Life

Ayya Khema asks us to contemplate:

"Think about today as the first day of your life. How do you want to live the remainder of your life? What changes do you need to make?"

I have been pondering that question.

The past is past and cannot be undone. At best, I can learn from it. I can view today as a chance to start anew, with mindfulness and acquired wisdom as my best allies. 

The more I age, the more life feels precious. Each day, each hour, each minute, each moment, a new gift that is not to be wasted with wrong action, wrong speech, wrong thoughts. There are long run decisions to be taken, and micro ones to be made every day. 

Doing the right thing requires seeing clearly within ourselves. Mindfulness can help shed some light, but it is not always enough. We need to stop, and probe deeply within. Armed with paper and pen, we can sit and reflect back on unhelpful patterns. Do we feel un-ease? Where does it come from? Can it be helped with changes within, or do we need to take action outside? What is in our control, and what is not?

We need to ask the big questions:

Which company do I want to keep?

Pema Chodron talks about the difficult ones as our teachers. Similarly, Ruth Denison often talks about her difficult relationship with her husband and how being his wife was a part of her spiritual path. Ayya Khema urges us to be careful and not haste to place the blame outside of ourselves. We are not perfect, and we need to first look inward before attributing our unhappiness to someone else's actions. I keep their advice in mind. I also remember the Buddha's admonition to only have noble friends. The Buddha is very clear on that matter:

Admirable friendship, admirable companionship, admirable camaraderie is actually the whole of the holy life. 

We are to keep company with those who encourage us on the spiritual path, in whichever form that may takes.

Next is, which work do I want to devote myself to?

I have the good fortune of having found work that incorporates mindfulness practice, service, and creativity while at the same time allowing me to make a living. Of course, the danger exists of perverting the purity of the initial intention. Wanting more money, more prestige, more self-gratification. Looking around, I am reminded that  outer claims to 'mindfulness' and to serving a higher cause, are no guarantee. Always, going back within to check. What are my motives? Am I being honest? Has greed arisen?

Last, the most important question.

If practice is the most important thing, am I making enough room for it? And if not, why?

I had planned to go on a two-week retreat this coming week. I ended up canceling. It did not seem wise to leave in the midst of so many important work projects. I promised myself that I would reschedule and retreat in September instead. I rationalized that practice can take place anywhere. I could sit longer every day, redouble my effort to bring mindfulness in my daily activities. I could listen to more dharma talks. I could attend mini-retreats here and there. Being a lay person is not easy on practice. Distractions and good reasons abound, that take one away from inner freedom.

Three questions worth asking ourselves. How would you answer them?