Pathscrossing

Learning About Myself, Again

Quite awhile ago, I read excerpts out of a book called Compassion Fatigue. A section in the book really got me thinking about what I was doing, about how I was helping people who needed support.

“It all started with an advertising campaign. We have all been cued by that famous series of ads by Save the Children. You can help this child or you can turn the page. The first time a reader sees the advertisement he is arrested by guilt. He may come close to actually sending money to the organization. The second time the reader sees the ad he may linger over the photograph, read the short paragraphs of copy and only then turn the page. The third time the reader sees the ad he typically turns the page without hesitation. The fourth time the reader sees the ad he may pause again over the photo and text, not to wallow in gilt, but to acknowledge with cynicism how the advertisement is crafted to manipulate readers like him – even if it is in a “good” cause.” (reference: Compassion Fatigue, p. 9)

I didn’t want to be that kind of person. But, ever since I read about it, almost ten years ago, I struggled with my own conscience when I would pass by a person with a cardboard sign saying, “No Home, No Money, No Job, Please Help.” Part of me wanted to empty my wallet, another part of me wondered if they would just use for alcohol or drugs. If I’m driving, I look away, trying not to make eye contact, not wanting to feel their pain and suffering even for a second. If I walk by them, and they ask, I had this canned response of “Sorry,” only to wish seconds later that I had done something.

It’s different today. Now, when I’m driving, and if my Mom is with me, she always begins to get some money out of her wallet to give to the person. Near as I can detect, there isn’t any question in her mind that she should do something. The more I’ve cared for my Mom, the more I see her giving $25 to anyone she gets mail from for cancer, leukemia, the needy, the homeless, the veterans, the list goes on. As I’ve wanted to respect her wishes during her aging, because I never know how much longer I will have the time with her, I’ve never questioned her intentions. So, she gives me the money, I roll down my window, and I hand to the person.

Now when I walk by someone on the sidewalk, I give them what I feel like giving. Sometimes it’s $5, sometimes $20, sometimes all the cash I have in my wallet. My mom’s taught me about this. I also think that my Buddhist practice have helped me, too. I’m trying to practice non-judgment and also self-trust, its a kind of non-thinking When I see someone who needs support, I just respond, I don’t try to judge what is right or wrong, or chase one question after another about what I should do. I yield to the goodness of my impulse, and more importantly, to give my respect to another person, to acknowledge the frailty of trying to support oneself, to offer a small gesture a blessing that their life have more ease, comfort, and happiness.

I still have moments when I wonder if I’m doing enough to help others. Then, I hear the voice, honed through my meditation practice and from the teachings of other Buddhist masters, teachers and practitioners, to gently give my attention to these feelings without judging myself, to be patient and vigilant, to have an open heart and a firm conviction for being compassionate. This is why I am committed to my practices, because there are so many opportunities to support another’s life, I just need to quiet the distractions and trust my deep intuition,” something I learned from Koshin Cain, Abbott of the Puget Sound Zen Center. Every time I am faced with a person who needs support, I learn about myself, again.

Begining and End

For many past New Year’s Days, I’ve not made any lists or goals. It just never felt right. I remember just giving my attention to what I was feeling, what would be moving or inspiring to myself, or others.

One of my New Year’s rituals is to send a greeting to family and friends. I sit down and write them on New Year’s Eve. This year, I also decided to create the card, a Japanese calligraphy for “beginning and end.” I began practicing the calligraphy, then I created one for each person. About half way through, my brush strokes began to have this “disappearing” or “emerging” feeling to them. There in the words “beginning and end” emerged the essence, the disappearing and emerging nature of “beginning and end.”

Later that day, I wrote these words to accompany each calligraphy, and Jan printed an image from among his photography to compliment.

In the blink of an eye, a beginning ends, and an ending begins. Unable to separate -- relax, surrender, and connect to something indescribable and unknown, feel awe and wonder, a smile inside, a deep breath, the stillness, a moment of experiencing your true self.

This year was no different. No lists, no to’dos, no big goals or aspirations, just this feeling, this sense of something meaningful about the beginning and the end of things, of tasks, of projects, even of life. It isn’t so much about the “what” anymore, as it is about the “how.” Like how I realized my interest to provide end-of-life support by just sitting, by non-doing, rather than reading books, talking to mentors, and going to workshops. When I am not pre-occupied to do, do, do, I learn to take my queues from my life, from what is presently emerging, and trusting myself to respond, to follow-through with humility, and love, and gratitude.

In this way, celebrating the past and the new year occurs in each and every moment.

Being Supportive to Others and to Self

Through the experience of my volunteer training for Shanti, I began learning about how to be supportive. From my experience that meant learning to meet the other person where they are, to not have any preconceived ideas about what they need or should do, to be non-judgmental of their choices, and maybe more importantly, to learn how to just be comfortable and self-accepting with myself.

From that experience, I have many moments throughout the day when I reflect on and observe myself, in how I am being supportive to another, to my partner, my mother, my brother or sister, a friend, or an acquaintance. Am I defending my own beliefs and interests, or am I open and accepting to their beliefs and interests? Am I truly listening, or am I just being selective in order to rationalize what I think should happen? Do I feel that I’m supposed to have an answer for them, or am I willing to let the conversation unfold until they find the answer for themselves?

As I discern these questions, I become more mindful of my own motivations and intentions. Winding down that path, I find my own insecurities and the awkwardness of the silence just after their words. I’m trying to learn to just sit with that silence for a bit longer than usual. Then to nod, to paraphrase, to smile, to move my lips in acknowledgement, but no words, not even a thought, and wait to see what they say next. It’s harder with loved ones because of all of the years and years of reactions that have conditioned me. Yet, I know that this is an important learning for me, one that I will keep practicing for a very long time.

The harder part for me is having someone to support me in much the same way, without judgment, only acceptance, who gives me the spaciousness after I say something to see if I will answer myself, someone who doesn’t feel like they need to have the “answer,” who wants to “fix it” for me, who believes that their role is to make my life better. It’s probably difficult for loved ones because they care about me, they don’t like to see me suffer. And, I feel rather uncomfortable with the idea of dumping my garbage on a friend or an acquaintance.

Maybe I just need to sit practice what I recall from Buddhist teachers and masters, sit with the situation, feeling or issues, be present to it, let it transform itself in it’s own way, without force or control. I guess that even refers to this, to my feelings of lacking of non-judgmental support, to just sit with it, notice it, observe it, followed by the practice of loving kindness towards self. I’ll try that.

A Silent Thanksgiving

This year I decided to have a silent Thanksgiving, just me, by myself. It is kind of an experiment, of sorts. A few weeks ago, I revealed loneliness as a source of my joy – that through my loneliness, I found my deep, heart-felt appreciation of being with others, of being loved by others. So, I created a situation for myself, where I would spend Thanksgiving all by myself.

When friends asked, I tried to explain it. They understood the words, but probably not to the depth of exploration that I was undertaking. I politely excused myself from the traditional Shimada-Kross gathering, this year at my sister’s in Boise, Idaho. I explained that I was taking a personal retreat, a phrase they are getting more accustomed to as I devote more time to meditation. So, here I am, it’s 7:30 pm. How did it go? Two words: quietly and surprisingly.

The quiet aspect of it was through the time that I took for zazen, for practicing my Japanese calligraphy, and for reading. The surprising aspects were that I received a bouquet of flowers from my loving partner, Jan who is in the Czech Republic. It was on my porch, this little pumpkin filled with orange roses, fiery like a southwestern sunset. A moment of gratefulness for his love, his thoughtfulness, and his presence in my life.

The second surprise was a young woman named Summer who was standing in my doorway with a pie from her parents, Cynthia and Jeffrey.  Summer brought it from her parents who wanted to thank me for helping them push their car out of the road in front of our house a few days ago. I saw they needed help. It was the morning rush hour, and it was more important than making my smoothie. I was moved by their gratitude, and maybe more importantly, I also felt grateful for who I am, that I took the time to go out in the rain, in my pajamas.

Earlier in the morning, as I was meditating, a thought occurred to me. (Sidebar: even though in meditation we try to be empty, when a thought arises, we should just return to our breath. But, sometimes, one thought leads to another, then I return to my breath.) Building on what Koshin Cain, the Abbott of the Puget Sound Zen Center, said last night in meditation, about how we gather around the table, holding hands to stop and give thanks, here’s the thought: what if that gratitude that we formally acknowledge on one of the day would flow throughout the rest of our days, weeks and months? In fact, one of my most favorite youtube videos is by Brother David Stendl-Rast, called A Good Day.

On this silent Thanksgiving day, even though I was alone, I really wasn’t. You see, in my reflections and contemplations of loneliness, I realized that I’m never really alone. I am always surrounded by trees, birds, the wind, the moon, people walking by the house, and the countless thoughts of loved ones far away. By taking a silent Thanksgiving, I gave myself an opportunity to try and get in touch and be grateful for all of my relationships. I only needed to be still, to be quiet, to listen, and to feel it all around me, especially to to Jan and my neighbors, it was a really good day.

The Practice of Being Enough

I just finished my volunteer training this last weekend for Shanti, a Multi-faith program.The program provides “free emotional support for people affected by HIV/AIDS, cancer, and other life-threatening illnesses.”

I originally submitted my application as a volunteer to deepen my spiritual practice, to someday be formally in a position of providing end-of-life care. Before attending the training, I knew from my orientation interview that being a volunteer meant learning how to be present to the individual’s grief, loss, and helplessness without trying to fix or solve anything for them. When I began the training, I carried that expectation with me, to learn how to not feel that I needed to have an answer. When I finished the training, I had opportunities to learn and practice those skills, but more importantly, I came face-to-face with my underlying beliefs.

Here’s the bottom line, for me: every time I say to myself, “I’m insecure” as a rationale for not doing something, what I’m really saying is that “I’m giving myself a reason, an excuse for being that way.” In my case, it expands to mean that it’s okay for me to not like myself, to feel less than adequate, to not be good enough, to not, to not, to not. Even though it’s what I honestly feel, here’s what happens: my judgment of myself means that it’s something I need to fix, and that means that I need to do something to fix it. If it gets fixed, then it reinforce the idea that I need to be fixed, but if it doesn’t then, it’s a failed effort, and I end up right back where I started.

As a volunteer, this has it’s downside. The more I try to find fixes for myself, the easier it has gotten to also provide fixes to everyone else, too. And, as I learned in volunteer training, that’s not what the individual is seeking, they only want support, no fixes. If you get on the fix-it side of the conversation, then in between the words what you end up saying is, “you’re not okay, you need to be fixed.” That’s not compassion, at least not the kind of compassion I want to demonstrate.

So, what’s the fix to the not fixing? For now, I’m going to try to just say “I am enough.” I’m hoping that it’ll short-circuit the thinking that something needs to be fixed. I’m hoping that it’ll be enough so that I can just accept what is, without any rationalization, without any notion of what should have happened or what could have happened. All that goes out the window! All of it!

As a result, here’s what I hope happens. I am enough gives me acceptance of myself and the situation. It derails the fix-it thought train. Instead, I am left with being understanding and I cripple the excuse for rationalizing and justifying my negative biases about why I act the way I do. Instead, I accept the situation, accept myself, and just move on.

I didn’t expect to realize this type of insight for myself in volunteer training. Now that I have, I realize that the opportunity that I have to spend with whomever I am matched will be a tremendous gift for me to practice being enough, and hopefully from that place, I will be able to have a supportive presence for the individual, and maybe, just maybe, they, too . . . (I almost wrote something that suggested that they needed to be fixed.) Ha! Got me! To practice being enough. That’s enough.

Being Non-Judgmental Begins with Self

Today was my first day of hospice volunteer training with Shanti, Multifaith Works. I found Multifaith through an internet search of local hospice volunteer programs in the Seattle area.

After submitting my application, I was invited to an orientation interview with Robert, Program Director, and Molly, Volunteer Coordinator on September 6. This is my journal entry on September 7:

Yesterday, I had an interview with Multifaith to be a Shanti volunteer, providing end of life care, to deepen my practice as I move towards becoming a Buddhist Chaplain. They spoke of how most situations it is more about individuals who are experiencing loss and grief, about being present to them, without judgment, without asserting my own expectations and needs, without trying to solve or fix anything, but just being emotionally present. I sense that this will teach me, will give me the opportunity to learn to just be present, with love.

Even though it was only the first day, I was quickly awakened to what I had written. You see, through a variety of exercises, I was able to consider what my response would be to a Shanti-partner, an individual who had requested support from Shanti. As I sat through those exercises, I heard myself on a few occasions jump to solution-oriented responses, rather than just simply paraphrase or reflect feelings. I feel like I’m trying to unlearn and relearn new ways of communicating.

After having so many years and years of learning how to fix problems, of having the next idea, or figuring out what to do, I’m now faced with a situation where that is my handicap. It makes me wonder about how much of “that type” of thinking has affected how I look at myself. If I see myself as someone that has something that needs attention, that needs to be fixed, and more importantly, how that has affected how I see others, that they, too, have something to be fixed.

I’ve had moments where I haven’t been so judgmental of myself, being a little kinder, a little gentler, more compassionate. When I’ve felt those moments, it’s also helped me to know what it feels like, making me realize how good it would be for others to feel that way, too. And so now, more often, I feel myself being less judgmental, less critical of others, just accepting things as they are, where there is no good or no bad.

I don’t know why it feels like it’s going to be so difficult in my training, or even anticipating the challenges of it with a Shanti-partner. Maybe it’s because I’m afraid I’ll make a mistake, that I’ll upset someone unknowingly. Funny thing though, it’s that fear of failure that makes me so judgmental of myself, of needing to “do it right.” But, that puts me right back on the treadmill again of needing to make sure that I have the right answers.

I guess the hard part of being non-judgmental is more about how I judge myself, first. For that, I don’t need to rely on hospice volunteer training, I can work on that from right where I’m at. Maybe that’s why I enjoy my zazen “sitting” meditation, because it’s just me, nobody else, just me. Just sitting with myself, when a thought appears, I let it go, without judgment. Now all I need to do is bring that in to my volunteer training, in to my practice exercises to be non-judgmental of my Shanti-parter, and maybe more importantly, myself.

More Spaciousness on the Outside, More on the Inside

Just returned last night from a 12 day trip in Pocatello, Idaho where I was helping to clear generations of stuff in my Uncle’s house so that he could move in to a smaller house or apartment. It’s a house that my Grandfather built. It’s where he and my grandmother, and my Uncle lived for many years. It was time for him to move, a time for letting go of his parent’s belongings, a time for deciding what was most important to keep, and what could be donated.

For me, it was a time to try to be understanding, a time to be of service, and as I learned, a time to learn how to breathe and relax with the time pressure of trying to finish nine large rooms in 12 days, besides working full-time during the week days.

I arrived on a Friday evening and even though I would be staying with a friend during the entire time, I went over to visit with my Uncle to get a sense of how to approach the entire effort. When I walked in, I was immediately overcome with the enormity of the task, of how much stuff there was and of how little space there was to easily move around. After my early morning meditation that Saturday morning, we began. It was a long day, maybe 12 hours, followed by another meditation the next morning, and another ten hours. By the end of the weekend, we had finished off two rooms and had some areas clear enough to organize items coming from the other rooms.

As the next few days followed, I began to feel a anxiousness in my morning meditations, wanting to cut them short, my mind at times distracted by what I needed to get done, with more thoughts and questions about how to finish the entire house, and what to do with everything that he wanted donated. I felt a noticeable difference in my mind-state. And so it continued for the next ten days. On several occasions, my tiredness convinced me to enjoy the bed, rather than my zafu, to sleep rather than to sit awake, to forget my breathing rather than to feel the beat of my heart.

By the end of the 12 days one thing was very obvious to me. When there are time pressures and demands to complete something within a specific time period, our mind takes over, becoming pre-occupied, calculating, adjusting and thinking about everything that needs to get done. All that thinking didn’t really change anything for me. There weren’t any thoughts or breakthrough ideas that helped me to do it better or faster. All they did was pre-occupy me, distract me from embracing and breathing in to the stillness that I was so accustomed to enjoying. Still, it was good to practice letting go of all those need-tos and wantas. It was good to learn to practice returning to my breath, to releasing myself, and to hearing the voice that says “not now, later.”

Maybe more importantly, as day ten arrived, my Uncle said he could feel himself returning to being more whole, and that he was happy. Maybe all those years of accumulated stuff congested his walking around the house, and now, all that space that was opened up in his house also gave him a glimpse into the inner sense of spaciousness and freedom. If we could all just get a taste of that, maybe it would be easier to give things up, to be less attached. Until we wrestle ourselves into letting go, we can never know what is on the other side, of what it feels to be uncumbered, of how spaciousness on the outside expands our feeling of spaciousness on the inside, and how that expansive emptiness within gives us the capacity to be available to so much more in our lives.

It's Enough

My partner Jan is a professional photographer. Before this he was a university professor, then a diplomat for the Czech Embassy. He gave up his career as a diplomat in order to have a green card that he won through the lottery so we could be together. As I returned to working for Boeing, he had the time to pursue his passion for photography. He never had any formal training in photography, even though he took a couple of classes at a local studio. Everything he learned through the simple process of taking pictures. Today, many would consider him accomplished. In fact, he is just getting ready to teach a course in photography at Eastern and Central European Studies, a part of the Faculty of Philosophy and Arts at Charles University.

I share this because it points to a situation where you don’t always have to have credentials, certificates, or degrees to do what you love.  Most of the time, it’s easy to default to the belief that in order to be a writer, you have to have a degree in writing, or at the least have taken some kind of class in writing.

As I begin to pursue my interests in providing end of life care, I too, realized that I don’t have to wait for some formal certificate.  So, I did some research on the internet to do volunteer hospice care, filled out an application with Shanti, part of Multifaith Works, was called for an informal interview a few weeks later, and will be attending training on October 18, 19 and 25, 26. It feels great to know that I don’t have to wait months and months, or longer, just to act on what I feel in my heart, to be with those who will appreciate a little time from me to share, to be heard, and to be hugged. For me, it’s enough just to be a volunteer.

Sometimes, maybe we think that we have to prove ourselves to somebody (or maybe one’s self) before believing that we’re good enough to be the person we sense. See if there is a way for you to be that person right now. You don’t need permission. You don’t have to know everything to begin. Just trust yourself. Take joy in acting from that place in your heart. Have patience. Be happy that you’re doing it. Sure, it may not be as good as you know it could be, but that doesn’t really matter does it? For now, it’s enough just to be doing something. It's enough.

Life Changes Me, My Work Changes, too

It's been over six months since my last post.

I launched the Art of Illumination. It surpassed my expectations, or rather, it felt like what participants discovered went beyond what they and I thought would happen. More about that project later.

As I was finishing that project, I also was graced with being with my father during the last week, the last day, and the last hours of his life. Until now, it is one of the most beautiful experiences I have had. It changed me.

Over 20 years ago, when Jim, my mother's husband, passed from leukemia at 46, I committed myself to doing what I love, being with someone I love, and living in a city that I loved. Check! Check! Check! 

Now, with the passing of my father, things have gotten stirred up again. It's really good.

Right before my father's passing, I was asked to become involved with a project at work, to help develop an online toolkit for first level managers, and to support the implementation of several new leadership programs for first level managers. This time, I committed myself to this project because of a deeper purpose. Every first level manager is a father and a son, or a mother and a daughter. They work hard, time spent at work that could be spent with their loved ones. If we could develop a toolkit and leadership program that could help them to do their jobs more efficiently, so that could have more time with their loved ones, then I felt that this project was important. Now, I'll never know for sure if that will happen. My father's passing helped me to realize this deeper purpose. Out of my love for my father, I poured my soul in to the project.

My role on this project is complete. In the months to come, you'll read more about how my work and my life is shifting and centering around something deeper, something closer to the universal principles of love, hope, courage, faith, beauty, trust, and peace.