Fear-Wall Gorge: The Poetry and Joy that Can Arise in Mindful Awareness and Self-Compassion

In 8th century China, the classical Chinese poet Tu Fu, as translated by David Hinton, described his journey down a river through Fear-Wall Gorge. It was a war-ravaged time. At first, I didn’t see or feel the poetry of the poem, the artistry; it seemed simply a list of natural and personal elements. Then I slowed down enough to re-read it a second or third time. And I was there, feeling an old man in a boat, on a river rushing through a gorge.

 

…mossy rock slipping past my unused cane,

kingfisher-green sky empty buffeting skin.

 

Cliffs parade layers of frost-edged sword,

streams cascading pearls of falling water…

 

The scene intense at times, fearful; at others, filled with delight and maybe grief.

“Indifferent to this sparse thing I am, I rest

At ease…” Later, he’s “lit with joy.”

 

I’ve been trying to figure out why this poem stayed in my mind so clearly after reading it, besides literary appreciation. And it must be because, in a sense, we’re all in the boat with Tu Fu. We might not be facing such a bloody and destructive war. But we are, always, hopefully, going on with our lives, facing the familiar and the unknowable, the light and the intense, the beautiful and the fearful, sailing rivers, passing steep cliffs, noticing mossy rocks beyond our unused or used canes, wounds, pains.

 

And maybe we notice the details as clearly as Tu Fu does, feeling them directly. Sensing the shared life, shared feeling, the percipient, knowing, awareness within it all⎼ the silence in the sounds, the unity linking the sights. And the joys possible in such sensing⎼ when we’re quiet enough. We feel nothing is missing because nothing is excluded; all that is possible to touch is touched.

 

Resting at ease⎼ not so easy. Letting my mind flow where it will⎼ not so easy.

 

In a workshop on mindfulness, meditation teacher and author Sharon Salzberg talked about “the golden moment.” This is when we’re practicing meditation, or when we’re working on a task or focusing on an activity, and we drift away and forget what we’re doing; we notice nothing except the words, memories, anxieties or plans in our head.

 

And then, suddenly, we realize what we’re doing. We notice we’ve drifted. We take in what’s not easy for us. What do we do then? If we yell at ourselves, about how bad a meditator or worker we are, we then run off again into thoughts and recriminations. Our mind becomes so small. We become recrimination. Instead, when we do our best, whatever that is for us, to simply notice we’re lost; and we just observe, then we find ourselves anew. Our awareness and mind expand. We take in more.

 

And maybe this is why this poem spoke to me. There it was, so much of life⎼ what feels right, what feels wrong, the joy and fear.

 

How do we get free from the cage of thoughts endlessly recreating themselves in our mind?…

 

 

*To read the whole article, please go to The Good Men Project.

Entering the Darkest Time of Year, and the Yearning for Gifts of Light; Are There Any Gifts We Can Give Each Other to Help Us Survive the Coming Years?

Both politically and seasonally, we’re entering the darkest time of year for those of us in the northern hemisphere and the US. The winter solstice is this week, along with several other seasonal and spiritual holidays. And in the next year, next month, a new political reality arises, filled with so many unknowns and threats, threats that might convince us to physically or emotionally emigrate from the new reality in the US. So, are there any gifts we can give each other to help us survive the coming years? And to find the awareness, the strength to better perceive opportunities for appropriate action and better take care of ourselves and our loved ones?

 

I would like to suggest a different sort of holiday gift, a gift of resources, programs to listen to, books to read, different emotions to share to strengthen ourselves, our friends and others. The first is difficult right now for many of us⎼ gratitude. With so many threats and unknowns staring us in the face, we might ask what do we have to be grateful for?

 

I was driving home earlier in the week listening to Here and Now on NPR, and there was an interview with Monica Bartlett, Professor of Psychology of the Positive Emotion and Social Behavior Lab at Ganzaga University. She spoke about how gratitude can be healing in times when we’re frightened and feel isolated and powerless. We all share a negativity bias. We tend to think first about our safety, more about what might hurt us than what might uplift us. And this negativity just enhances our fear. In contrast, when we feel gratitude, we feel more powerful and capable. And when we care for others, it’s easier to feel cared for.

 

Professor Bartlett suggests practices like pausing near the end of the day and writing down 3 things we’re grateful for, no matter how small, and recognizing who we interacted with or why that event happened. This can include a person we know well, or the person at the supermarket who showed us where to find what we were looking for, or a pet. Their research showed such a simple practice highlights the connections between ourselves and others, the good others bring to our lives, and the power in relationships to better the world.

 

Then there’s compassion⎼ it’s such a powerful source for freeing ourselves of suffering. One day as I was meditating on compassion, by doing a Buddhist practice of taking a moment to stop what I’m doing, sit down in a quiet space, and saying to myself “may I be happy, may X be happy. May I be healthy, may X be healthy. May I be at peace, may X be at peace. May all beings be free of suffering.” And I just felt the breathing, in and out. And suddenly, my problems, worries, and plans stopped repeating themselves in my mind. There was a silence so deep no thoughts appeared, yet nothing was missing.

 

Compassion goes beyond empathy, to not only recognize the suffering of others, or myself, but a readiness to act to reduce that suffering. Meditation teacher Sharon Salzberg points out it’s the opposite of passivity. It readies us to act in recognition of our interdependence, our shared presence in the world, and for the benefit of all. Of doing whatever we feel ready to do, to help a neighbor in need, or to support or start a political action to help millions in need.

 

A third recommendation returns us to the healing power of a pet, or to the bond with or care for another being…

 

*To read the whole post, please go to The Good Men Project.

Let Love Live, Revisited: Will We Act to Strengthen the Caring Relationship We Call a Community and Hope to See Actualized in Our Nation?

I’m sure you, too, are amazed at scenes like this: You’re watching your child at play, or a puppy running around the yard. Or you’re walking in the woods and see a fawn, or a kit, a baby fox, or a butterfly.

Or—I’m sitting in bed, a magazine on my lap. My wife is next to me, doing a puzzle. In between us, near our feet, are two cats, sleeping. I look at them, at all of us, and feel awe. Ok, the cats are simply sleeping, my wife, puzzling. But there is such trust on that bed. These beings want to be here, with me, with each other. They care. Or we care.

One of the cats, Miko, starts shaking, as if dreaming. He wraps his front paws around and over his head, as if to hide. I lean over and touch his back, and the shaking stops. He relaxes, releases his head, and turns over, showing me his belly. There is such vulnerability there, and tenderness. I give myself to you, and you give it back, enhanced.

When life is tough, we need to know such moments are possible, and even better, how to create a situation so they’re probable.

I’m reading an article in Lion’s Roar: Buddhist Wisdom for Our Time. The piece details a wonderful conversation between author and meditation teacher, Sharon Salzberg, and the educator, scholar and social activist Bell Hooks, about “The Power of Real Love.” Sharon talks of growing up and thinking that love is something given by others, but instead, it is an ability, a capacity, maybe even a responsibility we have in ourselves. Bell Hooks talks of love as residing in our actions, not just in our feelings.

In this day, in this threatening political climate, where fear and hate are so frequently in the news—How do we love? How do we allow ourselves to be vulnerable and care when the forces of domination and injustice seem to surround us?

Fear can be a message to wake up and observe more closely, or to turn away and flee. It’s built on opposition and is unstable and lasts only as long as we maintain a threat, an enemy, and a wall. Those outside the wall are rejected; those inside the wall are suspect. Such fear needs our compliance with it to succeed. Sometimes, we must or can’t help but act out of fear, but we pay an awful price when we allow fear to live too dominantly in us.

Love is built on mutuality, on approaching as close as possible to another being. It thrives on moments when there is little or no boundary or wall and, as the philosopher Ken Wilber put it, when our borders are not just points of demarcation but places where touching is possible….

 

*To read the whole piece, please go to The Good Men Project.

 

**And thank you to Bell Hooks and Sharon Salzberg (and Lion’s Roar) for the conversation and teachings.

***This is a revisiting of a blog from September, 2017.

 

Let Love Live

I’m sure you, too, are amazed at scenes like this: You’re watching your child at play, or a puppy running around the yard. Or you’re walking in the woods and see a kit (baby fox) or a butterfly.

 

Or—I am sitting in bed, a magazine on my lap. My wife is next to me, doing a puzzle. In between us, near our feet, are two cats, sleeping. I look at them, at all of us, and feel awe. Ok, the cats are simply sleeping, my wife, puzzling. But there is such trust on that bed. These beings want to be here, with me, with each other. They care. Or we care.

 

One of the cats, Milo, starts twitching, as if dreaming. He wraps his front paws around and over his head, as if to hide. I lean over and touch his back, and the shaking stops. He relaxes, releases his head and turns over, showing me his belly. There is such vulnerability there, delicacy. I give myself to you, and you give it back, enhanced.

 

I am reading an article in the September issue of Lion’s Roar: Buddhist Wisdom For Our Time. It is a wonderful conversation between two Buddhist meditators and educators, Sharon Salzberg and Bell Hooks, about “The Power of Real Love.” Sharon talks of growing up thinking that love is something given by others, but she now realizes it is an ability, a capacity, maybe even a responsibility we have in ourselves. Bell Hooks talks of love as residing in our actions, not just in our feelings. But in this day, in this political climate, where fear and hate are so frequently in the news—How do we love? How do we allow ourselves to be vulnerable and care when the forces of domination seem to surround us?

 

Actions taken out of love can be the most difficult and painful in our lives—and the most liberating. There is more power in the touch of love than can be conceived and dreamed in fear and hate. Fear can be a message to wake up and observe more closely or to turn away. But it is built on opposition, and is unstable. It lasts only as long as we maintain a threat or an enemy, and a wall. Those outside the wall are rejected; those inside the wall are suspect. Such fear needs our compliance with it in order to succeed.

 

And this is our choice each day. You, me, all of us still have this choice. Will we touch and be touched by what is happening to those who share the earth with us? Will we allow ourselves to be vulnerable and learn what is going on, to care and to act? Will we allow love to live in us, or will we cover our heads and hearts with fear?

 

**And thank you to Bell Hooks and Sharon Salzberg (and Lion’s Roar) for the conversation and teachings.