Month: June 2020

It isn’t often that I get to send a message back in time. Such an opportunity was given me recently when I was invited, as part of an Annex Teen Clinic video project, to include a message to my teenage self. Since the Annex is a sexual health clinic for young people, I thought it should have something to do with sex.

I’m not sure if the Annex will use what I wrote. But I did enjoy being able to send my teenage self a message in a bottle. I got to ignore the limits of time and say to myself something I wish I had heard in my teen years. I might not have understood it. But I would have had something to carry forward as I got older, and maybe someday understand before I met my older self.

“In my bones, I felt it, but I needed someone to say it: “Do not succumb to the belief that sensation is enough.”    

I wish someone had explained to me how sex can be a way to be awake, to develop deep awareness.   When I can wake up, sex offers an intense awareness of myself and someone else.  

Things can be really good when I can be fully present in that awake awareness.    Good for me, good for another.”   

Before it all begins, intention sets the stage for what is to come. For me, the first step into concentration is one of intention. Intention is the first step, if there is a step to be taken.

Actually, there is nothing to be done. The action is all about not doing. But for that to happen, intention frees the needle of the compass to point along the magnetic pull to a natural state of deep concentration.

There is no initiative, no trying. Relaxing my body is part of the movement, but first there is intention. Intention is the essential ingredient for deep awareness.

• May my body be quiet and relaxed
• May my mind be free of distraction and concerns
• May my heart be open to the world around me

Before it all begins, intention sets the stage for what is to come.

For a long time, I have thought I had the total task and burden of shaping my life, my future and my destiny. I am thinking that is only partly true. So much is handed down to me by those who have lived before me. My ancestors are present in so many ways. I notice that the inheritance they provide me is both favorable and unfavorable.

What my ancestors have provided me is in my body and in the human world I am a part of. Both the elation and the trauma of the past are something that are part of the physical me. The memory of the past is imprinted in my cells as concretely as the color of my eyes and hair. There is no escape from the inherited traits my body carries, both the beneficial and the difficult.

The seeds have been planted before my birth, and my experience comes out of cultivating what I want and neglecting what I do not want. My body has the memories of my ancestors, constantly calling out to me for attention and cultivation.

The more obvious aspects of inheritance are those that are physical and monetary. Inheritance is typically measured in things and resources we receive from ancestors. I can see the things I receive from my parents and the things I expect to leave behind for my kids.

I am also aware of what my ancestors have taught me and what guidance I have attempted to give to those who will live after me.

What has been less obvious to me are all the horrible deeds of my ancestors that are also a part of my inheritance. Those too I carry in my body and see in those who live around me.

When I invite my ancestors into my life each morning, I have been forgetting that some of them were the channels of harmful, horrible actions. The drunkards, the abusers of women, the enslavers of people have not been so easy to acknowledge. They too are part of what I inherit. Like everyone, I inherit the harmful along with the beneficial.

These days, it is more obvious to me that the rage expressed in the streets is part of our inheritance, a debt passed onto us by our ancestors. The rage is not just for the horrible deeds of contemporaries. It is also a rage that springs from what my ancestors have done.

It is becoming more obvious that others have inherited the trauma of the misdeeds of ancestors, and they carry the trauma, the loss and the pain. The more they recognize and feel that pain and harm, the more they are likely to act out in rage. I too have a part in that shared inheritance, and that is hard to sort out.

For me, it is a question of how to deal with all this inheritance, my own and the inheritance borne by others. For now, I am simply paying attention, trying to see what is real as best as I can.

I put my hands in the earth and connect with the reality from which I came and to which I will return. There, in these moments of stability, I hope I will better understand my inheritance and know how to act with it.

Stepping into nature can be as simple as walking out our back door.   Being able to take that step may be an essential part of our future and our hope for survival.

It is a common awareness that many species of insects, birds, and many other animals are in serious decline or have already disappeared.   Populations of bees, butterflies and birds are noticeably diminished compared to what they were when we were young.    Just look at the reduced number of insect splatters on the car windshield compared to when we were kids.   

Many of these vanishing species are part of the natural network on which we humans depend for our own survival.  Their disappearance warns us of our own demise.   It is a bleak picture, but there is a serious solution that is right out our back door.

A surprising and simple solution was just put forth by naturalist Douglas Tallamy in his most recent book, “Nature’s Best Hope.”    Tallamy explains how loss of their habitat and sustaining food sources is a key factor in the disappearance of insects and other animals.   Natural areas in places such as national parks are simply inadequate to provide suitable habitat to support a sustainable population of bees, butterflies and birds.   

The good news is that outside those national parks are millions of acres of green lawns that can be converted into sustaining habitat the parks are not able to provide.   Millions of acres of ecologically barren lawns are easily available if we replace the turf in our yards with native plants.   Rather than our going out in search of natural spaces for our own enjoyment, we bring nature to us.   We also bring back the bees, butterflies and birds. 

Tallamy and his research students point out that cultivars are no good substitute for native plants.   Cultivars, those strange and attractive plants we buy at nurseries, may be pleasing to us, but they are more like fast food for bees and butterflies.  Filling but not nourishing.  

Native plants can be equally as lovely as cultivars.  Natives also provide a more appealing and nutritious option for caterpillars that eat the plants and for the insects that feast on the pollen and nectar.  The plants and insects have evolved over millions of years to offer one another their best option.   Birds, in turn, feast on the insects and require those bugs to feed their young.  

We have learned to see green lawns as culturally appealing to us, but they are actually an ecological wasteland.   Many lawns in Bryn Mawr have already been purposefully abandoned and many neighbors have created native parkland in their own yards.   

Bees, butterflies and birds are happier and better able to survive because of this conversion.   So are those neighbors happier who only have to step outside their door to be enveloped by a natural setting.  It’s a setting in which everyone also has a better chance to survive.  

There are times that I have a deep sense of seeing people just as they are. I see them as they are present before me, standing or moving in my presence. Their flesh and blood are so obvious. I’ve noticed that I see them independent of whatever they are wearing.

This isn’t the same thing as seeing them naked. It is not even about the kind of seeing that I do with my eyes. Imagination is only faintly in play. I am simply aware of the body they exist as, the space they physically occupy.

This means activating a vision that goes beyond common, ordinary experience. For me, it involves developing and using an awareness that is centered in and surges through my whole body. It is not unlike the vision I have inside me when I visit the plants in my garden. There is the obvious sensory experience of sight, touch and smell. And there is also a vision that is active deep inside of me.

This has reminded me that the clothing we wear mostly conceals what our body is like, what we are really like as we physically, materially exist in time and space. At best, clothing signals to others what we want them to imagine what we really are like. Clothing signals attitude, status, cleanliness, wealth and so many other things. It also gives hints of the individual body beneath the clothing. It hints at who we really are. The hints are sometimes subtle, sometimes bold and clear.

Having the vision to see who we really are, independent of clothing, is something beyond sensory or imaginary awareness. I think that nakedness makes that vision easier, but in our culture, it also makes it more complicated. Nakedness confronts me with the physical presence of someone without the distracting, often unreliable influence of clothes.

For me it is as simple as being able to be aware of a person’s hands if those hands are not buried in mittens. I am more aware of the presence of their arms or feet or face if they are not somehow covered. Clothing, for the most part, centers on the sensory or stirs imaginary sensory experience. Clothing often suggests a presence, and only that.

I want to further develop an inner vision that doesn’t rely on sensory experience or stimulation, real or suggested. The starting point for me is to be deeply aware of my own body and be in deep contact with its presence. That vision of awareness is like a spark that can reach out to others. My vision begins inside of me, then other things get a lot more clear.

I love to get little glimpses of what humans really are like. These are the small nuances of interaction, the small acts of kindness or acknowledgement. They show the social tendernesses that are all part of being human. They seem to come naturally.

There are so many daily glimpses into the humanity of people I meet. The “thank you” someone says when you hold the door for them. The smile from a stranger as you pass them leaving Trader Joe’s. People who move their feet or their body so you can pass more easily. Neighbors who walk in the street so you can pass them at a comfortable distance during the pandemic.

I smile at the generosity of neighbors who comment about my garden as they pass by. I absorb the gentle bows of people who I meditate with. I watch the care that children show as they walk on the narrow paths of my garden, careful that they not step on plants.

I see the spacious smiles of friends I visit on FaceTime. I accept the welcome of other gardeners who open their gardens for my enjoyment. All these glimpses are reminders that humans are social and kind by nature. These gestures of kindness seem to happen with little or no effort.

Spoonful by spoonful, people hand out the generosity that comes so easily when they allow it. And I get many glimpses that allow me to enjoy the bright inner workings of people I meet.

For some time now, I have resisted being entertained. There are many exceptions of course, but being entertained has somehow seemed to me an excuse for not doing something real.

Entertainment has seemed to me to be an escape from reality, or at least an illusory way of dealing with it. I have sometimes wanted to be relieved of reality, and for that reason I found ways to be entertained. I am easily distracted by the shiny objects of the entertainment world. I am very familiar with entertainment and use it, even while I may resist it.

I know that my primary entertainment room has been my mind. So many times I have stood on the curb of reality, and in my mind watched the parade of jugglers, acrobats and sword-swallowers passing by. Those have been the times that my body has been in one place, and my mind has gone off to be absorbed in something somewhere else altogether.

In my culture, I am very familiar with references to the entertainment room present in many homes. These are designated places I am invited to go in order to step outside of the reality of ordinary living. I am so easily entertained by images projected on a screen not so much to communicate but to create and invite me into an imaginary experience of escape. I sometimes go there.

I know very well how I can select a drama or an adventure and for 40 minutes or three hours I am apart from my body and think I am experiencing a reality not truly my own.

I am amused when I hear the expression of “entertaining friends,” when someone speaks of others coming to their home to visit. It seems that the expectation is not just that they will have an experience of interacting with one another. It seems instead that the host will skillfully lead their visitors out of their ordinary but real experience. The visitors will be entertained. They will have a good time.

Perhaps my resistance to the idea of being entertained is all dreamed up and is unfounded. As I look around, entertainment is such a firm part of the culture. But there is something fundamental that bothers me about entertainment.

I think I would prefer to be engaged with my common and ordinary world where things are real, not imagined or concocted for my entertainment. Not preferring escape, I like the presence of what I can truly see and touch. I prefer experience and I like to be amazed by the real movement of life.

I like to experience music played by others and the joy I have in hearing it. I am not so interested in a music performance put on so that I can be entertained.

I’ve been lost and floundering in the big picture. I’ve been unable to bring into focus any notion of how the inequities of racism are ever going to be dealt with. I cannot see a world path that has white people treating people of color as equal humans. So today I am paying attention to the small picture, and that is enough for now.

Today I will be present wherever I happen to be. I will really notice the people that pass along the sidewalk along my home. I expect to be very aware when kids come into my back yard to see the fish. I will listen attentively when people stop to talk with me. I will be very involved with my small world.

I began by time spent on my pillow, focused on where I was and what I was doing. My space was small but it had an immense feeling of spaciousness. I walked through my garden and the fresh green world allowed me to enter. My focus never went beyond the curb but lingered on this small area of my garden.

I think that before I can absorb the larger picture in a meaningful way, I need to ground myself right where I am. I will spend time in my small world. I will be sitting, walking, chatting, observing, listening.

I am surrounded by the question today of how will we ever bridge the chasm that exists between white people and people of color. How will I bridge the chasm that exists between me and people of color?

There is no hope for me where there is no realistic expectation of a desired outcome. I do not see a basis for hope. I wish I did. The chasm seems so wide and deep. I do not see a way that my society can ever come together. So I all I can do is at least work on my own personal chasm.

Where do I begin? I have started by doing what comes easy to me: I read. I create a link with people of color that is primarily intellectual, but the emotional link creeps in. I read authors of color whom I respect, and that includes some who make me feel uncomfortable by what they say. I look at my own racism through their lenses.

I am moving through a small stack of books of poetry and essays by authors of color. They include people like Danusha Lameris, Ta-Nehisi Coates, John A. Powell, Ruth King, Langston Hughes, Joy Harjo, Adrienne Maree Brown, and so on. I sit, I listen, I pay attention. I ignore any of my internal narratives that try to emerge.

I also sit in meetings and listen to the women of color who contradict me. I ignore my urge to respond or resist. I bend, I yield, I listen attentively. I create a space in which we can both exist. I tell my ego to be quiet and take a rest.

I also pay attention to my reactions to people of color. I am becoming a little more honest and transparent with myself. I notice and study my own racism. I am increasingly aware that my life-long conditioning has fashioned me as a racist. Every one of my reactions to people of color is shaped by experiences and nurturing that began in the white baby bed in the hospital where I was born. I have been feeding on a diet of white privilege all my life.

I accept that all my white friends and white non-friends are racists as well. Everything they do, everything they say has the nutriments of white privilege. All white public figures are raised on the same diet of white privilege and continue to benefit from it. I notice and acknowledge the racism we all share.

None of what I am doing bridges the chasm I experience. All it does is provide a personal foundation, a beginning. Perhaps I will learn from someone who can see a way forward. I watch. I listen. I pay attention.

I recognize and enjoy three main characteristics of my times of deep concentration. I’m learning to pay attention to this wholesome triad. My best times sitting on my pillow are marked by three jewels that sparkle and glow. They make those moments spent sitting time well spent. The three are like three legs on a sturdy kind of focused attention.

Relaxation is a key element of my concentration. My mind lets go of its usual business and my body settles into a deep, relaxed state. Activity seems to stop in my mind and my body. Everything seems to shut down, but in reality it is becoming totally alive. My mind and body have nothing to do.

Spaciousness replaces my sense of form and containment. I no longer feel the limits of time or space. My mind / body reaches out and experiences no sense of limits. I am aware of nothing in particular, but instead my mind reaches out to everything that exists. I enter a void that is thriving with potential.

Brightness infuses my mind and body. This is more than a visual experience, even though flashes of light often come out of the void. There is a kind of high energy that bursts out of my mind and body. The sense of illumination surrounds me and comes from within me.

If I am having a good day, this triad of relaxation, spaciousness and brightness stays with me for awhile. Sometimes it is a passing experience, and I have to return to my breath to take me back to that same spot. Naturally, it is a triad that I am always glad to visit. Sometimes, I take the triad with me into the meandering moments of my day.