When Taking a Breath Feels Like Writing a Poem: What We Ignore Grows Mythical in Size

These days, breathing-in seems to be filled with a deep dread, a darkness, as if I’m about to open a door no one wants to open but maybe must. It’s a door I rationally know I share with millions of others, but don’t always feel. And the more I hesitate about opening it, the more difficult it is to even look at it. What we ignore becomes mythical in size.

 

I also dread to verbalize this, but I wonder if sleep disruption has become a national epidemic. The anxiety levels in this country are skyrocketing. And so many people have shared with me they’re having difficulty sleeping. So many have shared a sense of mourning, not only for neighbors who have been deported or lost their jobs, but mourning for the loss of an expectation of justice, fairness, due process. The world. Their future. Humanity. So many of us are suffering from moral injury or trauma.

 

Maybe you know the work of primatologist Frans de Waal, who with Sarah Brosnan did experiments with capuchin monkeys showing these primates have a deep sense of and desire for what is fair. When two capuchins performed a simple task, and one was rewarded with a less preferred, less sweet reward than the other, they then refused to continue to participate. They noticed and didn’t like any inequity in the treatment of others. It wasn’t all about competition and winning but noticing and caring about fairness.

 

In some ways, I weirdly realize the dread I had felt back in November and December 2024 might have lessened. DT is scary, a clown in many ways and frighteningly so, frighteningly uncaring of anyone other than himself and his power-hungry cohorts, a threat to everything and everyone I hold dear. Too many others have lost their livelihood, left the country or been deported or died, yet I‘m still able to speak out. Or maybe I’ve just become better at closing certain doors.

 

Or maybe I had just expected there would no longer be friendship, joy, love once DT was in office. No longer be any surprisingly beautiful moments. And yet these persist, some very simple. This afternoon for example, I started boiling water for tea. I then sat down to wait and so many thoughts went through my mind. It was like my mind had become a city center, with thoughts and images racing along the sidewalks and roads. And not just thoughts but inner compulsions to do something other than sit, like recording thoughts in my journal, or refinishing the window ledge above the sink, doing something “useful.”

 

But instead, I just watched and listened to the steam rising from the teapot, and it was enough. I noticed the song of water boiling was a complex song, with a deep quiet living in its core. Doing “nothing” suddenly felt so beautiful. And outside the house, a cardinal was singing. Maybe it was responding to the song of boiling tea water? Maybe I’ve stopped holding my breath and breathing-out amazed me.

 

It feels almost taboo to talk of something like this, watching and listening to water boiling when so many lives, the ecosystems of the world, and the continuation of democracy are at stake. But the freedom to live and share our moments, to let them affirm our existence, is a crucial element of human life.

 

I woke up about 1:00 am last night….

 

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

The Darkness Closest to Us: Don’t Get So Absorbed in the Universe of Words that We Lose the Universe of Being

One thing I love about many of my good friends is that they’re honest with me and willing to find and kindly tell me about holes in what I’ve said or argued, and to hear what I didn’t speak.

 

A great friend and college roommate found a point in a recent blog of mine that I had left unexplained and that had filled him with questions.

 

The lines were: Black holes the shape of trees, buildings, and hillsides stood silhouetted against a gray sky, a massive gray cloud filled by moonlight, yet with no moon visible. And the darkness appeared to begin in close to myself and lessen as it spread out into the distance. And he asked: “How did the darkness appear closer to yourself?” Or “why did it appear darker the closer you came to yourself?” Did you realize the implications of what you said?

 

Perceptually, the world was darker closer to myself because the only physical illumination was far off, from the lights of a nearby city, or from the moon itself.  But I rebelled against my own first understanding of the psychological or metaphorical meaning of the line. I heard “dark” as meaning sinister, something negative or evil. But I didn’t mean sinister or evil.

 

I later realized other meanings of dark, as in unknown or unknowable. As in beyond words. As in unrealized possibility. As in the unknown before from which everything after emerges. Before we speak there is an emptiness, a silence. Buddhists, Taoists, mystics speak of this.

 

Lao Tzu spoke about the emptiness out of which the universe, or fullness of life, emerged:

“In the beginning of heaven and earth there were no words,

Words came out of the womb of matter…”

 

Of course, since we don’t know what will happen or what will emerge from the womb of time and matter, we can feel frightened. We don’t know if what emerges will be helpful or hurtful. We don’t know if we’ll have the ability to face the unknown or do something with it we can be proud of.

 

We often think we know so much about ourselves, maybe too much. We might think we are so clear, obvious, unchanging. In fact, we can never fully know or fully capture ourselves or be contained in any number of words, thoughts, judgments.

 

Each word, each thought is an abstraction, a recording, or occasionally, as philosopher J. L. Austin argued, a performance or action. Think about an officiant saying. “I now pronounce you man and wife.” Or when we are overcome with beauty and all we say is “wow.” Words facilitate remembering and can help us evaluate, analyze, think about something. They can be so beautiful⎼ or painful to see or hear. They can lead to rumination or take us out of it. There’s so much that just can’t be spoken. Yet here we are talking.

 

In every moment, we have this choice….

 

*To read the whole article, please click on this link to The Good Men Project.

 

I hope you have a wonderful celebration of Juneteenth, and a Happy Father’s Day.

Mindfulness in the Car, the Gym and Anywhere Else: A Great Gift to Yourself and Anyone You Interact With

Several years ago, I was in three automobile accidents, and was not the driver in any of them. On two of the occasions, I was sitting in the passenger seat. One of the accidents was particularly frightening. I was in a van driving on a smaller road during a harsh snow storm in the Berkshire Mountains of Massachusetts. The driver took a turn too quickly and slid towards a cliff but managed to stop before going over the edge.

 

After the third accident, I felt tense whenever I had to drive anywhere. A friend recommended I pause before getting in the car and try to calm myself. He wasn’t a mindfulness practitioner, just a friend concerned for my safety. So before starting the car, I would sit in the driver’s seat, close my eyes, and simply feel what I was feeling. For maybe two minutes or so, I would notice any sensations that arose, where or if I felt tense, and if my breathing was fast or slow. Then I’d review in my mind the route to where I was going.

 

This practice stopped the chatter in my mind and the tension in my breathing. It allowed me to drive with more awareness and with a sense of freshness, as if driving was a relatively new and enjoyable experience.

 

Before going to work was another good time to take a pause in what I was doing. I was a teacher for almost thirty years, and would get to school, step out of the car, and just look at the school, the trees, and the hills. The school was up on a hill, and I could see the city spread out below. I’d take in the view and appreciate it. Taking a moment to breathe in and appreciate what was around me allowed me to then enter the classroom with more clarity. When the students saw me as comfortable and open with them, they were more comfortable, appreciative and open with me.

 

Practicing mindfulness in your house, at a pre-selected time, and isolated from distractions is one way to practice. It trains your mind and body to monitor feelings, sensations and thoughts and be more aware, present, and comfortable in your life. But little momentary practices throughout the day, reminders, pauses, helps spreads mindful attention throughout your life….

 

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