A GENTLE PLACE

Matisse, "Interior at Nice," 1919

Lately I've been hard on myself. Why, I don't know. I'm critical of too much.  My aging body, what I eat and drink. Some wrinkles here, some sagging there; haircut uneven, walk not brisk enough . . . .  What unkind thoughts.  If someone else treated me like this I'd ban them from my presence.  How many calories in that brûlée?  How many in that drink?  Is it sugar-free?  How dare I even think about a hot chocolate with marshmallows.  

I hope you're not doing this.  I hope you're being tender with yourself. But if you're not, if you've veered into self-judgment like I have, let's not.  Let's not set rules for ourselves that make us unhappy.  Especially if they have to do with aging, which, after all, is a blessing. Living is a gift and living long . . . well, the greatest forfeiture of all is dying young.  If we've lost someone young it's been etched on our heart.

I would like to love myself the way I love my home.  That may seem like a strange comparison, but every morning I awake glad to see the forest out the bedroom windows, eager to walk down the hall past the courtyard to the kitchen, ready to set the kettle on and rescue Mr. Wiggles from his night's sleep.  I don't mind the age of the house, the broken upstairs bathroom fan, the (new) water marks on the ceiling. No, I just love it the way it is. It makes me happy every day.  

It's a home where with the same friends we've celebrated birthdays and anniversaries but also gathered after standing at the grave site or columbarium.  There's no human emotion this house hasn't held within its walls. Not one.  And its done so with grace.  You can laugh in one room and cry in another and the house enfolds you.  Isn't yours the same?  A place of comfort without judgment.  "I am here for you," it says. Lay down your head. 

And shouldn't the same be true of us?  Shouldn't we be a gentle haven for ourselves?  Like our homes, that see all, absorb all and don't critique.  I'd like to be as reliable a consolation for myself as my home is.  It's a good analogy.  Being our own refuge.  Retreating inward when we want, to a place of safety.  Coming home not just to where we live but to ourselves.  Wrapping ourselves in love with a tenderness we often reserve for others.  

The opposite of being hard on yourself is not being easy on yourself.  It's being kind. 

I'm glad I thought this through.  

                                                      Nina Naomi

THAT BRIGHT VEIN OF GOODNESS IN US ALL

Well, I finished the 8-week Cultivating Kindness Meditation Course at Duke Integrative Medicine.  Just in time.  The news today is more corona-virus shut-downs. Oh my.  What could be more stressful?  We are all a bit on edge.  Or worse.  Yesterday in a drop-in meditation class the program director announced "closed until further notice."  Our college student has been sent home to finish the semester. Clearly more kindness can't hurt.  

Our class had long-time practitioners and newbies, moms and a dad or two, an emergency room physician, a young widow, a librarian, retirees, people who traveled far and locals like myself.  Did the course make us kinder?  Thankfully 🙏 judging ourselves is anti-loving and kind. But yes, I think the practice of meditation is helping me better understand and connect with myself and others.  

So, here is a little of what I've been learning (and unlearning) so far.  You may know it all already. But with some things I am grateful for repetition; perhaps you are too.     

• Meditation isn't a religion.  It can be faith-based or secular.  In my practice I am daily brought closer to God. But that's not everyone's practice. 
• It doesn't require special skill or background.  If you can breathe you can meditate.
• It only takes whatever time you give it.
• It doesn't eliminate sadness, difficulty, grief or pain.  It does teach new ways of coping with these.
• It isn't an attempt to zone out, stop thinking or focus on only positive thoughts.  That's not humanly possible. 
• It is a way to recognize our thoughts and relate to them more skillfully.  Stress, anxiety, pain or depression become more manageable, allowing us to make better decisions.  The result is we feel safer, more confident, calmer. 
• Meditation helps us respond, rather than react, to what is happening in our lives. Or in our minds.
• The concentration we learn restores our energy unlike distractions that deplete it.  
• Meditation is not self-indulgent or self-centered.  We learn about ourselves but what we learn we apply to others.  

Mindfulness the same.  Mindfulness is an attitude, meditation an action.  Neither is a withdrawing from anything, not fun or careers or politics or anything else.  We have all the skills we need for mindfulness at our finger tips.  It's always available to us. 

Specifically, in the loving kindness meditation the anchor is not the breath but a repetition of traditional phrases.  Our class read the book Real Happiness by Sharon Salzberg.  I'm not drawn to the title; happy seems almost too trivial for what we were learning.  I'd choose "at peace" or "content," wider umbrellas than happiness--although one can give rise to the other. The book includes such traditional meditation anchors as "May I live with ease," but in class we were encouraged to create our own.  For painful times I like, "With God's help, may I remember that my life is vaster than this moment."  Or, "With God's help, may my care for myself and others protect and calm me."  Better yet, from our liturgy the prayer "Help, Save, Comfort and Defend Me Gracious Lord."  You could think about what phrases might work for you.  It's a pleasant task, creating a phrase that we'd want to return to. 

Salzberg talks about "add-ons," those unhelpful threads we follow from a painful physical or emotional experience.  Projections into the future that add mental anguish on to what is already difficult enough.  She shows how mindfulness can restore balance, teaching us to observe all feelings of whatever intensity with curiosity, interest and compassion. To watch them come and go. To recognize that we are not our feelings.  

I especially like the idea during these chaotic times of thinking of kindness as a strength, not a weakness.   
                                        In peace, Nina Naomi

LOVING-KINDNESS MEDITATION

When you meditate you can also notice the softer

more subtle thoughts that you usually race past.

 

This morning I had time for a guided loving-kindness meditation.  A chance to enrich my fledgling meditation practice.  I needed it.  I'm still home recovering from a major surgery. That's why I had the morning free. You can find free audio resources for mindfulness meditation at www.Mindful.org.  "Healthy Mind, Healthy Life," that's the motto of Mindful.  

Because I rely upon God for help and guidance, I try to integrate my faith into my meditation and mindfulness practice.  Although I'm a beginner, it's not too hard to do.  In fact, I feel like it comes naturally. When I am focusing on my breathing I remember that it is God who created me, who gives me breath, who I call upon when I am anxious, distressed or afraid.  When I move from my breath to a body scan, I thank God for each part of my aging body.  In fact, we can thank God for age itself, for not leaving this precious earth before our time. 

I've practiced Yoga for years, but taken only one 10 week MBSR (Mindfulness Based Stress Reduction) course at Duke Integrative Medicine, signed up for a full Day of Meditation, and later a 3-Day Urban Retreat.  So, yes, a beginner.  But perfect after any of our 'Big' birthdays, or during life transitions (empty nests, job changes. . .), or after traumas or griefs or betrayals or anything that needs healing.  I've learned that much already.   

Today's guided meditation began with a focus on ourselves and on someone who loves us.  My mother I thought, or my husband, but finally chose God.  That kind of unconditional love fit the meditation.  Having God say to me, "May you be happy, may you be safe, may you be protected.  May you be free from pain [yes! I need that!], may you have health and well-being as much as is possible. . . . "  I know God doesn't promise these, not health, not freedom from pain or suffering; rather God promises to share our afflictions.  But I do believe that God wants wellness for us, wants safety for us, wants health and happiness for us.   

I always add, "May you be kind."  I want that for myself as well.  All these loving-kind wishes, for me and then as the meditation goes on, from me to others, and out into the world.  So much wonderful hope in this meditation.  Feeling the love of someone else for you; or of God for you; or you for yourself; or yourself for others. . . .

I am working to find more time for this each day.  I have tomorrow's guided meditation picked out:  "A Loving-Kindness Meditation to Boost Compassion" created by Dr. Emma Seppala of Stanford University.  How can we lose, each of us, our compassion out-flowing into our families and communities and from there to who knows where?  I am going to try.  Nina Naomi