Looking Up
Today was the first time we’ve seen the sun in seven days. That is no exaggeration. If you also live in the Bay area, you know what I mean.
It’s been incredibly smokey here–too smokey to go outside. Others much closer to the fires have it so much worse.
At moments, the combination of fog and smoke has made it difficult to stretch beyond the small confines of my own mind to see a bigger picture.
Sometimes life is like that. What is happening on the outside is reflected in our inner worlds as well.
This past weekend, I had the pleasure of participating in a zoom retreat with Pema Chodron, the meditation teacher and best-selling author. I was originally supposed to study with her in person at The Omega Institute campus in Rhinebeck, NY in May. I had booked the retreat a year before, long before the Coronavirus. Planning a year ahead–what a concept!
During the retreat, Pema Chodron took questions from the audience. Seeing her live and close-up on zoom, it was so clear how practiced she is at being present with her own vulnerability, compassion and inner wisdom, while also guiding others to do the same.
Holding space so that each of us can connect with our own depth and wisdom–that is a true gift. I was so touched by her abilities as a healer as well as a teacher. Her ability to straddle creating space for her own tenderness, while also having the humility to create space for others’ inherent goodness and wisdom felt close to miraculous.
One of the people who asked a question of Pema was a beautiful woman in Amsterdam. She started her question period showing a little sliver of blue sky that she could see from her window, in between the tops of tall buildings. She shared about how difficult she was finding it to navigate difficult emotions because of her own mental illness.
Earlier in the workshop, Pema had addressed another woman’s question about how important it was to set loving and healthy boundaries with people whose own pain or addictive habits may affect our own well-being. The woman from Amsterdam’s words were something along the lines of “I am one of them–the ones that you try to protect yourself from.”
Pema’s advice was when we are really down and out, to delight in the beauty of small things–pets, slivers of blue skies, flowers and a simple breath. While much of the retreat was about allowing ourselves to show up however we are without trying to change anything, she also spent time talking about how important it is to delight in little pleasures when life sends them our way.
My experience has been that life is never all one way, and neither are we. We are sad and gloomy, and bright and sunny. We are each wise beyond belief and also can be completely forgetful, blocked and dense. We each have experienced it all within our own selves.
That is what makes us each so able to be there for each other. The more we are present with our own difficult emotions, the more we really understand what others might be going through when they are sitting in the dark, literally and metaphorically, and staring up wistfully at sunny skies.
When I saw the sun shining today, I immediately ran outside. I knew the air quality was unhealthy, but I didn’t care. I wanted to feel that sensation of sunlight on my skin so badly. I called out my family, snapped a photo in case it disappeared, then grabbed a mango popsicle, took the puppy out onto the deck and soaked up the rays, feeling the sunlight on my skin.
My aspiration in life lately has been to notice when the sun breaks through (in any form) and to be wise enough to stop and soak up its rays, with the wisdom–now more than ever–that we never know when the next beautiful moment will come.
I also want to do for myself and others, as best as I can, what Pema Chodron did for us at the retreat this weekend. That is to pause, and remember that each person is innately good, wise and equal to all others.
Each of us has something unique to offer the world, and we can learn so much from each other. I believe we learn the most when, like the woman from Amsterdam, we have the courage to reach out, share our raw vulnerability as well as our joys, and accept that we are both–dark and bright skies–never one or the other, and it’s all okay.
As I write this, I am still sitting on the deck, only a few minutes since the sun first appeared, and the smoke is pouring in again. My eyes are stinging, my sinuses are tightening, my body is telling me I’ve been outside long enough.
Today, I am wishing you a beautiful day, sunny skies, and the grace and courage to create space for whatever and whoever most needs your loving care–beginning with YOU.
Two Poems For You
I recently posted a poem about friendship. So many of you have been true friends to me at one time or another in my life, including by signing up for this newsletter and supporting my writing, and so this poem is for each and every one of you.
I published it on September 11, in honor, also, of all those who have touched our lives who are no longer here:
Last week, I posted another poem about how difficult it is to be fully present, and how I often feel as if I am in so many places, not just my mind, but also in my heart:
Both poems are about the idea that however passing our moments of connection, we are always supporting each other energetically, in more ways that we will ever know. Never before, to me, has this been more apparent than during these unpredictable times.
Sending you lots of love and true friendship.
(P.S. Here is a photo of my zoom screen during the retreat with Pema. I know I her eyes are closed in this shot, but I’m sending this one because absolutely love her smile.)
