"Building a resilient biology," is Marsha Linehan's reference to self-care that prepares one to weather emotional storms. Marsha hosted the Mindfulness Retreat I attended last week, and is the author of many books on mindfulness-based cognitive therapy.
In Zen, we practice focused attention, a difficult skill which opens the door to understanding the true nature of our existence (and for some, spiritual insight). Emotional storms disrupt attention, alright. I knew this.
But I love Marsha's turn of phrase "a resilient biology," for it differentiates from a brittle or reactive biological state, which in my experience does not support consciousness and presence. What creates a resilient biology? Excellent nutrition, adequate sleep, exercise, fresh air, and refraining from harmful substances, of course. It's the zen of taking care of yourself. This brings renewed purpose to my efforts at healthy living. It invites me to practice like Dogen's tenzo (the monastery cook), by giving focused attention to meals and meal preparation.
Showing posts with label emotions. Show all posts
Showing posts with label emotions. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Friday, February 1, 2008
Ready to Just Be
Back from a brief dalliance with the political. More emptying experiences.
I experienced a huge emotional outburst recently, which I have only today awakened to see as yet another emptying event. In it I spewed all of the things in my life that have made me angry for the last several years. It embarrassed the hell out of me because it was a moment of no self control. I thought it was just the result of a drug side effect, but today I have a new perspective on it.
I have been holding these things inside, trying to bargain with the devil to make them go away, trying to deny them. Everything but accept them and move on. It doesn't matter if a drug disinhibited me. The thoughts were there.
Several things have evolved as a result of this big catharsis. First, I see clearly the danger of harboring negative thoughts at all. Second, I feel ready to move on from the state of mind that created these thoughts. Third, I have been humbled by being out of control. Fourth, the thoughts cannot scare me any more, I do not have to hide from them. Fifth, I am experiencing a lightness from having "taken out the trash," and now I have more room in my mind for creative solutions to the problems I was holding onto.
I am getting ready for my four-day silent retreat. This will the first one I attend with no books, tapes, or other words of any kind. Perhaps a needle and thread for mindless handiwork,though my experience is that sleep fills most of the "free time." I feel ready for this. Ready for emptiness. Ready to just be.
I experienced a huge emotional outburst recently, which I have only today awakened to see as yet another emptying event. In it I spewed all of the things in my life that have made me angry for the last several years. It embarrassed the hell out of me because it was a moment of no self control. I thought it was just the result of a drug side effect, but today I have a new perspective on it.
I have been holding these things inside, trying to bargain with the devil to make them go away, trying to deny them. Everything but accept them and move on. It doesn't matter if a drug disinhibited me. The thoughts were there.
Several things have evolved as a result of this big catharsis. First, I see clearly the danger of harboring negative thoughts at all. Second, I feel ready to move on from the state of mind that created these thoughts. Third, I have been humbled by being out of control. Fourth, the thoughts cannot scare me any more, I do not have to hide from them. Fifth, I am experiencing a lightness from having "taken out the trash," and now I have more room in my mind for creative solutions to the problems I was holding onto.
I am getting ready for my four-day silent retreat. This will the first one I attend with no books, tapes, or other words of any kind. Perhaps a needle and thread for mindless handiwork,though my experience is that sleep fills most of the "free time." I feel ready for this. Ready for emptiness. Ready to just be.
Saturday, January 26, 2008
More on Fievel
Back to "Somewhere Out There." This time the original: http://youtube.com/watch?v=jhCP40PpW0k
This little mouse is all of us yearning for connection (on any level- human, divine), feeling small, feeling lost, possibly doomed, but yet still able to express hope in a tiny voice. It seems beyond silly to be so touched by this image, like the image I saw a while back of the tiger nursing little piglets (an earlier post).
Silly, but inevitable if I can feel my emotions; necessary, if I am to practice any kind of compassion in the world. I do not mean the kind of "compassion" one expresses with intellectual or political activity. I mean face-to-face encounter such as I experienced in the little church on Hawaii. It is compassion that does not result in analysis or conclusions, just presence.
In zazen, Roshi encourages me to "be there" with whatever state is occurring, not necessarily for the purpose of developing compassion (though that is a possible outcome), but just to learn to sit alongside my various states of mind without having the need to waste energy avoiding them.
I felt I lacked compassion in my drugged state. Thus, this medication issue is a spiritual one. I also feel I had a wake-up call, a reminder, of something missing in my life not just because of medication, but also for lack of a spiritual community. These are things I will be sitting with in my upcoming four day zazen, or possibly laying with, as the case may be.
This little mouse is all of us yearning for connection (on any level- human, divine), feeling small, feeling lost, possibly doomed, but yet still able to express hope in a tiny voice. It seems beyond silly to be so touched by this image, like the image I saw a while back of the tiger nursing little piglets (an earlier post).
Silly, but inevitable if I can feel my emotions; necessary, if I am to practice any kind of compassion in the world. I do not mean the kind of "compassion" one expresses with intellectual or political activity. I mean face-to-face encounter such as I experienced in the little church on Hawaii. It is compassion that does not result in analysis or conclusions, just presence.
In zazen, Roshi encourages me to "be there" with whatever state is occurring, not necessarily for the purpose of developing compassion (though that is a possible outcome), but just to learn to sit alongside my various states of mind without having the need to waste energy avoiding them.
I felt I lacked compassion in my drugged state. Thus, this medication issue is a spiritual one. I also feel I had a wake-up call, a reminder, of something missing in my life not just because of medication, but also for lack of a spiritual community. These are things I will be sitting with in my upcoming four day zazen, or possibly laying with, as the case may be.
Friday, January 25, 2008
A Hell of a Choice
A big decision is hanging over my head. Several months ago, I cleared my body of several medications: hormones, and certain drugs in the pain cocktail. I felt the latter were robbing me of the full spectrum of emotions that are my navigational aids, plus my piddling little bit of organizational ability, distractable as I am.
The hormones are back, that was a no-brainer. The cost/benefit ratio there weighs far in favor of using. I do believe I have outlived my evolutionary life span, and the extra years science has afforded me are much better with hormones on board. It took no time at all to figure that out.
The other drugs are the problem. I am of course now in much more pain, very fatigued, and often addled. Ironically, the fatigue is not relieved by sleep, because I can't sleep long, due to the pain. In this diary, I write about spiritual issues, but there are of course, the physical ones as well. "I am not an animal, but I AM using one for transportation."
I would like to think I am emptying in response to a spiritual call, but the horrible thought has occurred to me that it might be because I have no choice.
Drugged (relative) comfort vs clear-minded suffering. For those of us enduring chronic pain, it's a hell of a choice.
The hormones are back, that was a no-brainer. The cost/benefit ratio there weighs far in favor of using. I do believe I have outlived my evolutionary life span, and the extra years science has afforded me are much better with hormones on board. It took no time at all to figure that out.
The other drugs are the problem. I am of course now in much more pain, very fatigued, and often addled. Ironically, the fatigue is not relieved by sleep, because I can't sleep long, due to the pain. In this diary, I write about spiritual issues, but there are of course, the physical ones as well. "I am not an animal, but I AM using one for transportation."
I would like to think I am emptying in response to a spiritual call, but the horrible thought has occurred to me that it might be because I have no choice.
Drugged (relative) comfort vs clear-minded suffering. For those of us enduring chronic pain, it's a hell of a choice.
Friday, December 28, 2007
Everything Sucks, then Everything is Wonderful Again
Have reached sundown of most days on this trip tried/tired to the max. Drained, aching, an unable to function. My traveling days are over. There is no doubt about it. Thank God I got so many wonderful miles on my traveling shoes before now, or I would be filled with regret.
Thus it was yesterday when we pulled into our "au naturelle" tropical lodging. No room in the fridge for all the food we gathered for 16 family members, a roaring road 20 yards from our screened-in bedroom, a woo-woo vibration machine rattling our bones as others stood on it above us drawing the last quantum of energy away from us. Upon our arrival, our hosts informed us that they had planned a concert for the evening of our family's arrival after 24 hours of air travel. My distress became irrepressible, so the concert was rescheduled. Only slightly relieved, I hunkered down in the bed against the cacophony.
The enormous racket died down around 9 pm, and peaceful jungle sounds took over, eventually giving way to a lovely quiet interrupted only by the occasional car. I imagined happy families on their way home for the day and practiced Marsha Linehan's mantra, "Everything in the universe is as it should be. Eventually, I Ambienated off to sleep.
This morning, all is well once again. Woke at 6:30 (and let there be no mistake- you WILL wake at 6:30) to horses neighing, cattle lowing, VERY busy birds, large trucks on their way to work, hopefully driven by drivers drinking their chocolatey Kona coffee in their favorite cups, and busy kitchen sounds. This morning, our residence looks quaint, rustic, and delightful. And tonight, the racket will be US!!! Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
Thus it was yesterday when we pulled into our "au naturelle" tropical lodging. No room in the fridge for all the food we gathered for 16 family members, a roaring road 20 yards from our screened-in bedroom, a woo-woo vibration machine rattling our bones as others stood on it above us drawing the last quantum of energy away from us. Upon our arrival, our hosts informed us that they had planned a concert for the evening of our family's arrival after 24 hours of air travel. My distress became irrepressible, so the concert was rescheduled. Only slightly relieved, I hunkered down in the bed against the cacophony.
The enormous racket died down around 9 pm, and peaceful jungle sounds took over, eventually giving way to a lovely quiet interrupted only by the occasional car. I imagined happy families on their way home for the day and practiced Marsha Linehan's mantra, "Everything in the universe is as it should be. Eventually, I Ambienated off to sleep.
This morning, all is well once again. Woke at 6:30 (and let there be no mistake- you WILL wake at 6:30) to horses neighing, cattle lowing, VERY busy birds, large trucks on their way to work, hopefully driven by drivers drinking their chocolatey Kona coffee in their favorite cups, and busy kitchen sounds. This morning, our residence looks quaint, rustic, and delightful. And tonight, the racket will be US!!! Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
Monday, December 10, 2007
Dark Visions
As I became more enveloped in fatigue last night, I lay in bed experiencing the feeling of sinking into a dark black and dangerous void. I felt like sharks were circling me; that very very real danger was surrounding my bed. What was that?
I thought that this must be how Barbara feels when she is overcome by weakness as her body reacts to its recent assault. Or even when she contemplates her attacker- the cancer. There was no getting rid of the feeling I was having, so I tried to just lean into, breathe into it, as I often do into pain. Peer into it. What is this? What is this?
Then I thought I had better not lean any farther. It seemed like Barbara had been holding on to us to keep from sinking in there, and I better keep one strong arm out of the death place, so we all did not fall in together. I pulled my head up and out of the water and swam for my life. For our lives.
Sleep came and I arose, rested. This morning I made a point to let Barbara know that even though the Pink Ribbon Party had been lots of play, I do truly see what a terrifying and exhausting place she is in right now. It wasn't a cheerful thought, but I felt that it was a necessary one.
As I write, I am not so afraid of either cancer or death , only suffering. I have had the time and inclination to ponder death and my body's demise, and am reconciled with the body's impermanence. But I have to say that I think it would be terrifying to be encountering a cancer battle without someone in my life who truly saw where I was. I hope it was a gift to Barbara. It was to me.
I thought that this must be how Barbara feels when she is overcome by weakness as her body reacts to its recent assault. Or even when she contemplates her attacker- the cancer. There was no getting rid of the feeling I was having, so I tried to just lean into, breathe into it, as I often do into pain. Peer into it. What is this? What is this?
Then I thought I had better not lean any farther. It seemed like Barbara had been holding on to us to keep from sinking in there, and I better keep one strong arm out of the death place, so we all did not fall in together. I pulled my head up and out of the water and swam for my life. For our lives.
Sleep came and I arose, rested. This morning I made a point to let Barbara know that even though the Pink Ribbon Party had been lots of play, I do truly see what a terrifying and exhausting place she is in right now. It wasn't a cheerful thought, but I felt that it was a necessary one.
As I write, I am not so afraid of either cancer or death , only suffering. I have had the time and inclination to ponder death and my body's demise, and am reconciled with the body's impermanence. But I have to say that I think it would be terrifying to be encountering a cancer battle without someone in my life who truly saw where I was. I hope it was a gift to Barbara. It was to me.
