Everyone's laughing, you also laugh!

I’m a bit too intense at times, I could benefit from turning down my intensity but that rarely happens. But when it does, I laugh a lot, a whole lot and I’m a better human being.

Not willing to half-ass anything that I choose to participate in, I woke up at 4:30 in the morning and drove out to a monastery to participate in a meditation, yoga and teaching retreat.

Sitting down cross-legged on a yoga mat laid out on the open deck we prepared for meditation.  The morning was rather quiet with the exception of the occasional breeze, the sky was streaked with blue and orange and my intention to be present to my experience was rock solid.

Half way through my meditation I heard a zipper being pulled, not a short pull like one would with their pants on anything but a long pull like with a body bag or something. Curiously I opened my eyes and glanced at the tents that had been pitched in the yard. Not making much about it I returned to my meditation peacefully.

Soon enough the senior monk sounded that bell and we all broke out from the practice for a short break before yoga breathing. “You guys woke me up!” complained Jamtso (I am not using his real name here), the young monk who was to lead the yoga practice. “I was sleeping in the tent, when you guys were meditating”, he continued much to my surprise. Wasn’t he supposed to be up and ready I wondered part curiously and part judgmentally? 

As he demonstrated the breathing practice, a young lady in the group could not contain her laughter at Jamtso’s gestures. I was naturally irritated. Jamtso remained calm and said, “It is funny isn’t it?” and laughed along with her. I tried not to be judgmental but I had already judged, so I made an observation and moved along.

Over our second break I got to know Jamtso better. I got to know of his past, his history, his practice of meditation and his worry about his homeland and his people. We both admitted to the isolation that we sometimes feel as a result of being uprooted from our family and country of origin. I enjoyed conversing with him.

It turned out that Jamtso was going to be the translator for the teaching imparted by the senior monk and I eagerly prepared to focus in on every bit of the teachings.

When the senior monk spoke about the three different kinds of meditators, Jamtso translated it as meditators who intellectualize, the devoted meditators and the idiot meditators. He guffawed as he mentioned the third kind and I instantaneously knew that the word ‘idiot’, which in this context referred to the untransformed meditators (those who meditate for years without undergoing any internal transformation), was Jamtso’s interpretation alone and not what the pious senior monk had spoken about. Yet I could not help but smile widely!

Thanks to the smile that had grown upon my face, I softened and felt airy. I was less intense more diluted and felt spaciousness within myself.

Jamtso continued with his translations and I continued to learn a whole lot in spite of being amused at his choice of words and his chosen explanations. The whole group continued with meditating and learning.

In the end the senior monk opened the session to questions. One particular lady barraged him with a bunch of them all of which seemed to elicit the same or similar responses from the monk. Jamtso translated it as patiently as he could.

Suddenly the larger part of the crowd that did not need translating burst out into laughter, peels and peels of laughter at a particular response from the senior monk. Instantly I increased the volume on my translation aid (through which we heard Jamtso’s translations) to hear Jamtso translate what the monk had said, my curiosity was at its peak. “Sorry, I couldn’t hear the monk, everyone’s laughing, you also laugh! ”, translated Jamtso and surely enough I laughed and laughed and couldn’t stop.

At least for a while Jamtso had cured me of my judging mind and my habit of approaching life with unnecessary intensity. Maybe its because I was laughing when I learnt it but I find the teaching of kindness towards all sentient beings abiding in me for much longer than I expected.

Cheating Day

I love grocery shopping! There I said it.

If I find the parking spot of my choice the experience is even more endearing. This day I was lucky enough to find the right spot.

 I turned off the engine and took three full breaths before I strode into the store – a useful habit built to bring in full presence. I paused as usual to take in the sight of those flowers – today I wanted something simple - I chose a bunch of daisies to keep me company for the week. I picked my fruits and veggies with care formulating and recalling recipes even as I bagged them. As I placed the milk carton into the cart I felt like surprising the kids with their favorite butter croissants.

Soon I was in the bakery. I picked up a brown bag to put the freshly baked croissants inside. This is when it happened! My eyes fell upon these freshly baked delicious little devils – cranberry and pistachio scones! My inner angel spoke, “no, no, no, be mindful of your diet”, she said. I paid heed and walked past.

It was not as if I thought about those scones again, I seemed to have completely forgotten about them. Just as I picked up my favorite tea I sensed a strange stirring within me. The stirring brought in reminders – the moments of my life were rushing forward, I could die anytime, perhaps even in the parking lot outside, this precious life was so very short and even more unpredictable - the stirring asked me if I had enjoyed as many joys of living as I possibly could have?

“I don’t want to die not knowing what those scones taste like”, I murmured walking straight across the store back into the sweet smelling bakery. This time I had company. I found this elderly gentleman eyeing the very same pile of scones.  I stood beside him waiting patiently – perhaps the wisdom of his years will soothe the temptation that had grown within my heart.

“You know today is my cheating day”, he spoke looking at me as if he knew me from way back and long beyond. “I’ve been good this whole week”, he added. “Well, you are still so very young but at my age, this stuff, it’s very bad for me”, he whispered leaning closer.

We both stood like stunned pilgrims before an alluring deity who had come alive.

“Its called living”, I announced! “We have to do it as well and as best as we can”, I concluded as I winked at him. We laughed at each other as we picked our scones, delighted more so that we were not alone anymore in our pressing temptation. He wished me a good day as I effortlessly raced down to checkout.

I didn’t wait to get home. I took a big bite of that scone right in the parking lot! The taste of toasted pistachios, juicy cranberries and sweetened dough was simply exemplary. “Now I can die in peace”, I said speaking to myself as I often do. I smiled as I thought about those peaches in my trunk.

What is enough?

“Now let’s establish the intention to be present “, on hearing these words from my dear teacher, I let go of my meandering mind and become present to the practice. Some 45 minutes later, after stretching, meditating and relaxing I leave this yoga class rejuvenated.

On my drive back I’m more courteous to drivers while merging into traffic, I enjoy the ongoing drama of the clouds in the sky, I recognize the shift of light and color in the woods, I am attentive to the pebbles and purple flowers at street corners and generally I feel more deeply alive and connected.

Its not just yoga! It’s the company of delightful women who are compassionate and caring that makes this experience special. Very often I’m amongst the first to arrive and as I spread out my mat and stretch, I feel my own willingness to let-go. In here I know I will be cared for and all my vulnerabilities will be tolerated. This is a place of safety. This is a place where I’m enough just as I am.

My life on the outside seems to be bombarded with news of rude leaders with microscopic minds hogging the limelight with their loud and often ignorant voices, accomplished scientists, actors and authors professing the use of drugs and aids to boost performance, double their IQ’s and triple their concentration! While others make macabre predictions on the outcome of pollution, artificial intelligence and alien life along with prices of commodities, local thefts and drunk teenagers.

Unfortunately at times I get sucked into the herd!  The news makes me feel like I have somehow missed the bus on living fully. And most importantly that what I am and what I have is not enough!

 These thoughts do not make me mindful and present. In fact they make my mind anxious and fearful which in turn makes me faithless and shallow.

In a world that capitalizes on human fears and anxieties, blatantly categorizes a whole nation and a whole community based on loud-mouthed rhetoric, promotes religious propaganda while invading our very faith in life, what I need most is a few moments of quiet in the company of kindred souls.

For this is when I choose whom I pay attention to and whom I choose to shutout. This is where I determine who fosters my wellbeing and who capitalizes on my fears. This is where I define what is ‘enough’ because I may miss out on living trying to be ‘more’.

Cynicism

I pretended to be reaching out to a barf bag. I stuck my tongue out and imitated a violent throw up. Then I rolled my eyes as I shook my head. This was before face-time and this was my reaction to a friend who had called me up and couldn’t stop telling me how madly she was in love.

At the time, my washing machine had broken down. I had a baby and a toddler at home. My life was filled with diapers, toys, high chairs, Disney junior on my TV, endless nursery rhymes on my player, spills, leaks, throw-ups, tantrums and everything in the middle.

When my loving husband came back home in the evenings, I didn’t feel romantic. I felt relief! Relief to be around another adult, relief for another set of hands that could help me and relief to be able to shower.

Naturally I was cynical about love!

Well, the babies grew and my cynicism disappeared. Thank goodness for that!

Much of life is lived as if in front of a mirror. We speak to others telling them things that we wish to hear ourselves. We color our words with emotions that are true for each of our selves. We get frustrated at things that do not reflect that which we are experiencing as the truth in a given moment.

There is no absolute truth. It is something that is sandwiched between different perspectives.

I have never met the Dalai Lama and yet I reserve a great deal of respect and adoration for him. I have read many books with his teachings and I have watched pretty much all documentaries about him.

Thumbing through a magazine I came upon an interview of his that was published. The writer introduced pre-China Tibet, as far less of a Utopia than we assume it was and mimicked the Lama’s mannerism with cynicism. There were subtle hints of sarcasm – angry humor – throughout the article.

Needless to say I was a bit saddened. When a smiling monk tells us that we all simply want to be happy and that we each desire to reduce our suffering – instead of being curious we want to erase his positivity.

There was so much I wanted to say to the writer of that article. I wanted to produce proof, I wanted to provide reassurance and I wanted to pacify her felt anger.

I realized in a moment that I was desperately trying to hold onto faith in my own beliefs. All these messages of reassurance, pacification and proof were for myself.

I remembered my episode with the barf bag!

Perhaps the life of this young woman who wrote the article was too crowded for her to see her own inner beauty. Perhaps her washing machine had broken down, her kid was throwing a tantrum and her husband had called to tell her that he was working late. Perhaps she just desired to shower in peace.

I’m sure the Lama said to her, “may you be happy, may you be peaceful, may you know the beauty of your own true nature, may you be healed, may you be a source of healing to all!”

The Gift Of Hope

They barely have drinking water. Yet their hearts are filled with gratitude!

Keeping with tradition, I visited this small school in a tiny village that my father grew up in. This annual ritual of mine enriches my life in a multitude of ways.  

I love children! I really do! It makes me happy to see hardworking kids pursuing dreams that are placed in places far and beyond the spectrum of their everyday life.

They sit upon the bare earth in tiny classrooms where dedicated teachers equipped with nothing more than a few books and a blackboard teach them. They don’t have computers, calculators, sports equipment, extra curricular activities, school development funds or any other fancy frilly stuff. Yet they are filled with love and receive what they get with immense gratitude.

A few years back I had asked these very same children what their dreams were?  Very few had answers.  When one child annoyed by my persisting questioning, and largely out of frustration told me that she wanted to be a teacher – the others simply chimed in. They all wanted to be teachers!

But even then, I knew. I knew that it was important that they be asked what their dreams were. Not because it is imperative that a twelve or thirteen year old knows exactly what she is to do with her life but because its good to have dreams upon whose wings these kids can reach places beyond their own imagination.

This time when I visited them, I found that they had given my question thought. They each aspired to pursue professions and interests of their own and the listed variety brought joy to me. It thrilled me to see girls come up before the whole school and express their intent to become doctors, lawyers and government officials. 

I intend to continue asking them this question even at the risk of being disliked.

 Because I know that as they grow, some of them will forget that they too had dreams as a child. And I hope that those who forget will remember that annoying woman who asked them about their dreams and aspirations every year. And that such remembering will cause them to pursue what they have conveniently abandoned.

After all the last thing left in Pandora’s box is hope!