What is the role of contemplative practice in times of crisis? And how can meditation actually support us in meeting the greatest challenges of our time?

Meditation teacher Oren Jay Sofer takes up these questions in his new book, Your Heart Was Made for This: Contemplative Practices for Meeting a World in Crisis with Courage, Integrity, and Love. As a member of the Spirit Rock Teachers Council, Sofer has spent decades exploring the relationship between contemplative practice and nonviolent communication. In his new book, he lays out twenty-six qualities of the heart that can expand our capacity to respond to the challenges of oppression, overwhelm, burnout, and injustice.

In a recent episode of Life As It Is, Tricycle’s editor-in-chief, James Shaheen, and meditation teacher Sharon Salzberg sat down with Sofer to talk about the dangers of burnout, the power of being patient with not knowing, and the role of curiosity in nonviolent approaches to conflict. Read an excerpt from their conversation below, then listen to the full episode.

Sharon Salzberg (SS): You begin the book with the quality of aspiration, which you describe as an act that connects us with a sense of what is possible. Can you say more about the power of aspiration?

Oren Jay Sofer (OS): Aspiration is a verb. It’s not something that we have; it’s something that we do. To aspire is to connect with the energy of our life, to the spirit inside that moves us. Aspiration is how I translate the Pali term saddha, sometimes translated as faith, conviction, or confidence. I think about saddha as a stirring inside of our heart that yearns for something better and that trusts that there’s something meaningful about being alive, that there’s something fulfilling, just, or good in this remarkable, mysterious experience of being conscious. The Buddha’s placement of aspiration at the beginning of his teachings is so brilliant to me because he makes the connection that if we don’t have a sense of what’s possible, we won’t try.

[The meditation teacher Anagarika] Munindraji was fond of saying that any aspiration can be accomplished if you’re wholehearted and you know the way. That stayed with me all of these years as an invitation to really look deeply and ask, What is my aspiration? What is it that I’m here on this planet to do? If we all were able to listen deeply and ask ourselves that question, we could change this world so profoundly because I think that what all of these crises are calling for is not for all of us to do the same thing but for each of us to find our vocation and to contribute in the way that only we can, whether that’s through teaching or parenting or making art or doing direct social change work. The articulation of an aspiration on a collective level can move entire populations, and holding fast to that vision can power social movements in the face of tremendous resistance and odds.

James Shaheen (JS): You write that aspiration can help provide us with the energy for change. Sometimes we think of energy in terms of all or nothing, and it can be very easy to get burnt out. So how have you come to view energy in a more sustainable way?

OS: I love exploring [the theme of energy] because it’s present in our lives at all levels. In Western society, we tend to have an all-or-nothing approach to energy, which comes from the fossil fuel industry’s extractive model of getting as much as possible as fast as possible for the most productivity. Many of us are conditioned to live our personal lives with this sense of pressure to strive and to push past our limits.

There are many ways to reclaim a more balanced relationship with energy and cultivate the kind of sustainable power you’re referring to. We can look to nature and the cycles of the seasons, day and night, and our very breath. All religious traditions honor cycles of activity and rest. This is a very potent investigation in each of our lives to explore how we relate to our energy and how we can start to see the degree to which we’ve become disconnected from our bodies and from the rhythms of the planet. 

JS: Do you think that disconnection is what leads to burnout?

OS: Absolutely. When we’re disconnected, either we’re unaware of the signals that our body is sending us to rest, or we’re aware of them and we override them. This is one of the key factors that leads to burnout. Angela Davis says that anyone who’s interested in making change in the world also has to learn to take care of themself. I think that the conversation about energy is deeply connected to the conversation about rest. In order to have sustainable energy, we need to learn how to rest—and how to reclaim our right to rest. Once we start to examine this, we begin to see that self-care and rest are actually radical acts.

JS: Learning to rest often requires patience, and it can be particularly hard to practice when we feel stressed or under pressure. How have you come to understand patience, and how can practicing patience actually support us in responding deliberately?

OS: There’s a powerful quote from Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s “Letter from Birmingham Jail,” where he says, “For years now I have heard the word ‘Wait’ . . . this ‘Wait’ has almost always meant ‘Never.’” When we look at social transformation, sometimes patience can mean passivity, and there’s a certain kind of healthy impatience with oppressive conditions that urges us to act. And yet at the same time, there’s a need for patience on the moment-to-moment level.

Through the lens of contemplative practice, I’ve come to understand patience in relation to our resistance to whatever’s happening. With patience, we can learn to bear the internal tension of resisting pain and unpleasant experiences, whether it’s unpleasant sensations or the pain and rage related to oppression or the destruction of the earth. Having patience on the moment-to-moment level allows us to have more breathing room so that we can tolerate the discomfort we experience when we disagree with what’s happening or when it goes against our values. That capacity to bear discomfort on a moment-to-moment level starts to open up more space inside us so that we can draw on other resources to make a more wise and empowered response. That way, we’re not reacting based on discomfort and resistance.

JS: You also mention the etymology of the word patience. Can you tell us about that?

OS: Patience comes from the Latin patientia, which means “suffering.” To be a patient in a hospital is to be one who suffers. In a sense, patience includes the willingness to bear discomfort consciously. And I think for many of us who are troubled about what’s happening in the world, I see us called to be patient with not knowing. The more we’re able to be patient with not having an answer and not being able to see the outcome, the more sustainable our energy can be because the more we need certainty, the more strained our internal resources become and the less resilience we have to stay engaged.

SS: You’ve mentioned the connection between patience and rest. Can you say more about how we can reclaim our right to rest?

OS: There are a few things that are important to me in examining our need for rest and how to honor it. The first is expanding our definition of rest. I love Tricia Hersey’s definition of rest in her book Rest Is Resistance and her social media platform, the Nap Ministry. She defines rest as anything that connects the body and mind, which broadens the sense of what it means to rest. If we take an evolutionary perspective, we can see that our ancestors engaged in downtime activities that were very regulating for our nervous system, whether it was threshing or weaving or toolmaking or engaging in chit-chat conversations. Any kind of downtime can be recharging.

I think it’s also important to be very real about the barriers that are there to rest. Rest is a human need. It’s a right; it’s not a luxury. And yet the structures of our society often make it so that those who have access to rest are those who have resources. There are very real economic pressures just to meet basic needs like housing and healthcare, and then there are also internal barriers to rest, like how our sense of self-worth and belonging gets tied to how much we accomplish and how well we perform. We might think that the busier we are, the more important we are, so some people feel proud of being busy and not resting.

I’ve found that it takes a very deliberate effort to learn how to rest. It involves learning to honor our limits. What can we let go of and say no to? A lot of that rides on cultivating self-compassion, seeing the suffering of being tired and strained and stressed and actually being willing not only to do something about it but to feel it. We can also investigate other questions: How much of my activity is necessary and how much of it is self-imposed? Can I relinquish my need to please others to take care of myself? Can I lower my standards in order to get more downtime? What would it be like to not always be productive? I think that we can find rest in small ways in short moments if we’re willing to look for it and break from our habits.

JS: Patience and rest can also open up space for curiosity. Can you say more about the power of curiosity in transforming our relationship to afflictive emotions?

OS: Well, we can’t transform anything if we don’t understand it. In order to understand it, we need to get curious. Curiosity doesn’t have an end or a goal. It’s just an openness to understand and to receive and absorb and learn. And there’s a certain kind of radical curiosity that we cultivate in contemplative practice that I think has a direct connection and support for social change, which is that we get interested in all of our experience, including what repels us.

It’s one thing to be curious about a beautiful sunset or a fascinating connection we have with a person in our life. It’s another thing to be curious about someone who annoys us or about our back pain, our depression, or a social condition that troubles us and keeps us up at night. Curiosity brings us into the experience of something to start to understand how it’s functioning so that we can engage with it in a more clear and skillful way.

Curiosity plays a direct role in nonviolent approaches to social transformation. Dr. King and Gandhi were both huge proponents that the initial stage of a noncooperation campaign began with being curious and gathering information. A strategic nonviolent approach to any social change work includes curiosity and openness to one’s opponent and really understanding what their needs and values are, not creating an enemy in our mind’s eye but seeing a potential partner to join us in beloved community. And so curiosity has that power to open the door to empathy and to deep connection.

The post Nurturing the Energy for Change appeared first on Tricycle: The Buddhist Review.

The words devotion and vote both come from the Latin vovere, to vow, promise, or dedicate. To be devoted means that we commit fully. When we are devoted, we give tremendously of our time, energy, and attention—to a spouse, an instrument, a practice, a garden, a quality, or the sacred. This kind of wholehearted offering can include our rational intelligence, but it needn’t depend on it. Yes, devotion without reason can be dangerous, as history tragically demonstrates. But when our devotion leads to good and benefits others, we can feel confident that the object of our devotion is worthy, whether or not it makes sense rationally.

It took a long time for me to appreciate the value and beauty of Buddhist devotional practices like bowing, chanting, and offering incense. Learning more about their historical context gave me a new perspective on these practices. The Buddha radically challenged traditional views that holiness was about one’s birth (caste) and that spiritual purity or attainment could be found through rituals like bathing in the Ganges. He asserted that true righteousness lies in the heart, and that the primary value of ritual is symbolic. In ritual, intention matters more than action. Thus to offer incense to a Buddha statue is to offer gratitude for the Buddha’s teachings and respect for our own capacity for awakening.

Devotion expresses humility, gratitude, and appreciation; we may literally lower ourselves to honor another. In this way, bowing is a whole-body mudra (symbolic gesture) signifying deep respect. Devotion to the sacred, one’s ancestors, or a teacher uplifts the heart and calls forth our potential. Their goodness elicits the best in us.

We see the potency of devotion in a curious passage from the Buddhist Pali canon where the Buddha, just days after being enlightened, reflects, “It is painful to dwell without reverence. . . . Now what ascetic or brahmin can I honor, respect, and dwell in dependence on?” Realizing that his insight had surpassed that of everyone he knew, the Buddha decides to honor and respect the truth that set him free. This floored me when I first read it. One of the few records of the Buddha’s thoughts after his awakening is essentially, “How can I still show devotion?” This sentiment embodies a fundamental human longing to be in relationship with something sacred or worthy of our respect.

Without devotion we suffer from spiritual hunger; we sense something missing, perhaps without even knowing what it is. Without the opportunity to give ourselves to something worthwhile, our need for devotion may become displaced onto addictions to accumulation, substances, or appearances; onto entertainments and pleasures; or onto feelings of self-judgment, inadequacy, and self-loathing. In effect, we become what Buddhists call “hungry ghosts,” endlessly consuming, never fulfilled.

When we feel an absence of the sacred, we experience a void in our hearts, a pervasive emptiness. Materialism, hedonism, and hyperindividualism dislocate our need for devotion to something larger than ourselves, whether through religious observance, spiritual practice, or a transcendent experience of love. We may be devoted to art, to love or family, to the sacred, to social justice, or to all of these and more. Our devotion is not defined by its object but by the quality of attention and love we bring to it. When we act with full sincerity, connecting our heart with our purpose, even washing the dishes can be an act of devotion.

We don’t practice devotion to get something in return. We practice it for its own sake, as a complete offering of our heart.

Neglecting the heart and failing to integrate devotion into our lives inevitably erode our capacity for fulfillment in some way. If we don’t engage our hearts, life becomes dry and automatic. Relying exclusively on the logical and analytical part of our minds, we approach life mechanistically and lose touch with creativity and freshness. Caring for children, spearheading a new project or campaign, even meditating become obligations rather than empowering vocations, and we lose the deep joy of acting with sincerity.

Devotion expresses itself in a diverse mosaic beyond traditional ways of relating to the sacred. As the poet Rumi wrote, “There are a thousand ways to kneel and kiss the ground.” In 1965, when Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel marched for voting rights with Dr. King, he famously said, “I felt like my legs were praying.” Activism, caregiving, service, singing, growing vegetables, planting a tree—all can be meaningful acts of devotion that connect us to something larger than ourselves.

We don’t practice devotion to get something in return. We practice it for its own sake, as a complete offering of our heart. Singing my son to sleep in my arms, lowering him gently into a warm bath, even wiping his bottom—done wholeheartedly these acts express full devotion. Shunryu Suzuki Roshi recounts how Dogen, the founder of the Soto school of Zen Buddhism, made a devotional act of fetching water from the river, taking only half a dipper and returning the rest “without throwing it away. . . . When we feel the beauty of the river, we intuitively do it in Dogen’s way.”

In deep devotion the quality of our presence transcends our actions. What we do with wholehearted devotion becomes a holistic expression of our being, an act of beauty and selflessness beyond the everyday realm of time, roles, and duties. Released from such daily pressures, we open to the transpersonal realm of the mythopoetic, the archetypal, and the sacred. A single moment of generosity, offered with complete devotion, connects us with all acts of generosity. Planting one tree with devotion connects us with the limitless capacity of life. Devotion thus reaches beyond discrete acts. Vows of love, aspiration, and justice require devotion. Long-term commitments like marriage, child-rearing, and ordination all call forth enduring devotion, as we show up again and again each day. Such devotional commitments, combined with resolve and awareness, power social change in the face of obstacles and repression.

When we give our whole being to anything skillful—be it for one moment of complete presence or a lifetime of tireless work—our being itself becomes a blessing.

In northwestern India a hundred years ago, Badshah Khan’s devotion to nonviolence and education as forms of rebellion sparked a peaceful revolution that challenged at once British colonialism, the authority of local mullahs, and an ancient culture of violence. Advocating for a united, independent, secular India, Khan founded the world’s first nonviolent “army of peace,” which grew to one hundred thousand members in spite of brutal British repression. His visionary devotion drew global attention to the power of nonviolence and was vital to India’s liberation.

Devotion can transform protests into pilgrimage and demonstrations into ceremony. In 1978, advocating for tribal sovereignty and protesting threats to treaties and water rights, several hundred American Indian activists and supporters marched for five months across the United States, from San Francisco to Washington, DC. Known as the Longest Walk, this pilgrimage secured several legislative victories, including the American Indian Religious Freedom Act. More recently, in 2016, opposing the construction of the Dakota Access Pipeline (an oil conduit that passes through ancestral burial grounds and under tribal water sources), Lakota elders at Standing Rock frequently reminded demonstrators that their actions were a form of ceremony.

In such efforts, we can glimpse devotion’s capacity to extend even beyond our lifetimes. Held strongly enough, and by enough people, devotion bridges generations in liberating visions—from emancipation, women’s suffrage, and marriage equality to ongoing movements for nuclear disarmament and for racial and climate justice. When we give our whole being to anything skillful—be it for one moment of complete presence or a lifetime of tireless work—our being itself becomes a blessing, and we drink from a source of strength and goodness beyond our personal history or identity.

Reflection: Getting Started

Take time to examine what you habitually devote yourself to. To what activities, persons, values, or habits do you unthinkingly give yourself ? Is part of you devoted to time, money, efficiency, or control? Consider how this serves and how it limits you. Now reflect on who or what is worthy of your devotion. Is there a person, activity, or value to which you would like to be more devoted? Perhaps your family, a craft or project, a social movement, or even a quality like generosity or gratitude? What would that look like for you?

Meditation: Going Deeper

Sit, stand, or recline and settle your mind and body in any way that feels supportive. Let yourself be completely natural, without trying to control your thoughts or focus in any special way. In your own time, when you’re ready, pose one of these questions to your heart:

• What is sacred to me?
• What do I hold dear in life?
• What upholds and supports me?
• What is the deepest truth I know?
• What is too important to forget?

Simply ask the question and listen to whatever arises. Make space for anything and everything—memories, images, sensations, and emotions, as well as discursive thought. Give more attention to the depth and quality of your question and your sincere listening than to finding an answer. Whenever your mind wanders, return to something simple and grounding in the present moment, such as your breath. Continue your inquiry by asking the question again or posing one of the others. Keep listening, honoring whatever arises, not needing to figure things out. If something clear emerges, shift your focus to appreciating your connection with whatever feels sacred, worthy, or true to you. When you feel ready, let go of the question and return to being present. Make a mental note of anything significant you want to remember.

Action: Engaging Devotion

Choose an activity to take on as a devotional practice for the next two weeks. This could be praying, bowing, chanting, or any other spiritual observance. It could equally be walking in the garden for ten minutes every morning, mindfully drinking a cup of tea, reading your child a bedtime story, or even cleaning your teeth! The quality of presence and intention you bring to the activity is what matters. If the activity you choose seems to lack meaning, create that meaning. For example, if you choose drinking water as your devotional act, when you drink you might focus on the wish that all creatures have access to clean water. If it’s cleaning your teeth, you might connect with the heartfelt wish that all creatures have the means necessary to care for their bodies.

Each day, before doing the activity, pause, gathering all of your attention. Set a clear and firm intention to give this activity your full attention. When you do it, do it wholeheartedly, connecting with the meaning this activity, person, or task has (or that you’ve created). As you act, stay attuned: Are you aware? Is your heart engaged? Are you rushing ahead or settling into the moment? Return to the aim of offering your entire being. As the days unfold, notice whether any resistance, impatience, or control comes up. If so, recall that meeting these habitual challenges is also a practice. What happens if you let go of having things the way you want and surrender to the process?

Alternatively, choose an ongoing commitment in your life that you’d like to reinvigorate with devotion. Can you notice ways devotion imbues not only this commitment but all great actions, such as parenting, intimate partnership, lifelong friendship, and following one’s vocation?

If You Have Difficulties

If terms like the sacred don’t speak to you, find ones that do. What connects you with something larger than yourself or your lifetime? What lights you up inside? If the word devotion turns you off, try using a synonym like commitment or wholeheartedness. Practice doing something with complete and total sincerity; put your whole heart into it. If you struggle to do this, use that as an opportunity to practice patience, forgiveness, and mindfulness and try again. If you find yourself growing tight, straining to do it “correctly,” pause in that very moment. Try relaxing your face and jaw. Exhale. Come back to the spirit of devotion: offering your heart to that which is worthy. Consider your time, energy, and presence a gift you can offer. To whom or what shall you offer it? Return to the practice of devotion with this new orientation.

⧫

From Your Heart Was Made For This: Contemplative Practices for Meeting a World in Crisis with Courage, Integrity, and Love © 2023 by Oren Jay Sofer. Reprinted in arrangement with Shambhala Publications, Inc. Boulder, CO. 

The post Everyday Devotion appeared first on Tricycle: The Buddhist Review.

To access wonder, find ways to be naturally mindful and curious. Pay complete attention, like a child observing a butterfly for the first time. This requires humility. You must be willing to become fully absorbed in the present, setting aside ideas about what you know and what will come. Intellectual analysis, comparison, and craving corrode wonder. They block your capacity for connecting with the raw experience of the moment—be it marveling at the morning light glinting off tile, the aroma of a cup of hot coffee, the voice of an old friend, or the hummingbird sipping from a summer flower.

♦

From Your Heart Was Made for This: Contemplative Practices for Meeting a World in Crisis with Courage, Integrity, and Love by Oren Jay Sofer © 2023. Reprinted in arrangement with Shambhala Publications, Inc.

The post No Wonder Without Humility appeared first on Tricycle: The Buddhist Review.

I cry when I read the news periodically.

Graphic details of the war in Ukraine, disturbing reports of climate chaos, the racist mass shooting in Buffalo, New York here in the United States all remind me of the ignorance, hate, and violence in our world. It’s a lot to be with. 

Making space for the truth of our feelings is essential for keeping the heart healthy and finding a wise response in this complex world.

The pain is valid. The grief is valid. The anger, fear, and emotional exhaustion are all valid. 

I’ve been teaching this week in central Massachusetts, where spring is in full force: the trees are in bloom, the scent of lilacs fills the air, warm thunder showers roll through the afternoon. The other day, between retreats, I sat outside with a good friend, drinking tea and catching up about our lives.

The contrast between the beauty and love in my life and the deep human suffering in our world is hard to hold. It’s a continual reminder of my own good fortune, privilege, and the deep inequities in our world.

Toward the end of a recent call, one person asked just this: how do we hold the dissonance between gratitude for the blessings in life, and grief over the suffering and pain in our world? 

The question is a koan for our times.

Both are true, and living in the tension and discomfort of this question invites the heart to open more fully.

It’s when we stop asking this question that I become concerned, for what are the alternatives? We either sink into despair, consumed by sorrow, or we turn away and ignore what hurts, focusing only on the goodness or distracting ourselves from the fear and pain. 

Neither is an accurate perspective or a helpful response.

I am continually exploring the difference between true compassion and its decoys, sorrow and despair. I keep learning to recognize the difference between true equanimity and its false cousins, indifference and apathy.

I believe there’s no easy way forward, no simple answer to these questions. 

The road to freedom is long and though we may feel helpless individually, we are not powerless. We can bring more goodness and love into the world through our words, actions, and choices. We can speak out against violence and oppression, and work together to pressure elected officials to make policy changes for more equity, dignity, and safety in our communities.

We don’t act if we’re lulled asleep by comfort or convenience, nor can we act if we’re overwhelmed with grief.

This is why we need to stretch the heart to include all of it. This is why we need both the immense beauty and gratitude for blessings in life to keep us afloat, and the deep sadness and grief to urge us to action. 

♦

This article was originally published here on Oren Jay Sofer’s blog.

The post Why We Need Both Grief and Gratitude appeared first on Tricycle: The Buddhist Review.

“Habit is the greatest tyrant,” an elder once told me. By the time we reach adulthood, we’re each carrying decades of habits. We’ve become accustomed to the routines and patterns that we’ve cobbled together to get by.

In spite of our best intentions, without an initial spark of change and a clear path to sustain it, we can remain paralyzed by fear or despair, locked in by numbness, or strung out by our addiction to comfort. Whether for individual or collective change, the vehicle to transformation remains stalled if we are unable to break the spell of unhealthy habits.

Related: Meditation, Mental Habits, and Creative Imagination

When seeking change it’s tempting to reach for the dramatic catharsis. We long to break the mold in a burst of sudden enlightenment. The reality is often far more humble and mundane. Things change slowly, over time, through incremental shifts. Human beings are complex, living systems where a small change can have far-reaching effects.

I liken the process of transforming habits to turning a cargo ship at sea. A large vessel with that much momentum can’t make sharp turns. However, a one- or two-degree course correction of the rudder, if held steady, will take that ship in a very different direction over time.

This process of change often occurs in two stages. First, we gain an insight or new understanding into some aspect of ourselves or our world. This is the initial spark that sets the cycle of transformation going. Insight turns the angle of the ship’s rudder.

Related: Dropping Distraction

Insight can feel great. Clarity dawns, and a weight has been lifted. Seeing things in a new light often comes with a rush of inspiration, a sense of freedom or spaciousness. (A lot of energy in both meditation and communication training is aimed at facilitating such shifts in awareness or understanding.)

Many practitioners make the mistake of stopping there. Insight is the beginning of transformation, not the end. It opens us to a new possibility, but as quickly as we change the angle of the rudder, the currents of our life come rushing in. The tyranny of habit exerts its force, pushing us back toward our old ways.

This is the second stage: holding the angle. It’s what turns a moment of insight into lasting change. We work in a patient and steady way, applying effort to integrate this insight. Each day, we recollect the new perspective and practice this new way of being. Inevitably, we lose our grip and the rudder slips back into its old position. We course correct, readjust, and work to hold the angle.

The second stage of change isn’t glamorous or exciting, yet it’s where real transformation takes place. It takes dedication, patience, and genuine interest to sustain. It’s the meditator showing up at their mat each morning, come what may; the artisan diligently throwing another pot on the wheel.

Related: The Best Possible Habit

Over time, the steadiness of that effort takes root, and a new way is forged. The old habit is replaced with a healthy one that supports well-being. The transition often occurs so slowly that we only notice it in retrospect. One day we turn around and realize something is different.

⧫

Oren Jay Sofer’s first book, Say What You Mean: A Mindful Approach to Nonviolent Communication (Shambhala Publications, December 2018) is out now.  

This article was originally published on September 25, 2018.

The post Turning a Ship appeared first on Tricycle: The Buddhist Review.

Being present in our relationships and connecting with compassion and care was already a challenge before social distancing. Now, in the pressure cooker that is sheltering-in-place, it’s even harder. 

Despite the easing of restrictions in some places, we will likely be under the pall of COVID-19 for the foreseeable future. Wanting to better understand how to communicate with those around me (both the people I’m sheltering with, and the faces I see on Zoom), I reached out to Oren Jay Sofer, a meditation teacher who combines the tools of mindfulness with the practices of Nonviolent Communication, a system of communication strategies meant to attune our capacity for cooperation. Sofer’s book, Say What You Mean, is an excellent primer on how one can engage with others with intention and clarity. 

Over a series of email exchanges, Sofer assured me that mindful communication can help enrich our relationships—even in the midst of a global pandemic.

Let’s start with our roommates, housemates, and families. How can we maintain civility, autonomy, and compassion in the inevitable friction of quarantine?  “Civility” isn’t a perfunctory social behavior; it’s not about being polite. It’s about connecting with the depth of our values and allowing those to animate our words, choices and relationships. The place that our these values arise from can be a powerful guide for our speech and action. One way to find out what our values are is by asking ourselves, What is in our hearts that recognizes the possibility of harmony?

For Buddhists, figuring out what we value in our relationships with others may involve exploring what it means to live in an interdependent world. There is a Buddhist text called the Sedaka Sutta, or The Bamboo Acrobat, in which the Buddha presents the analogy of the exquisite balance required by two acrobats to perform a complex act. Each performer must be firmly rooted in their own center of gravity, while simultaneously staying attuned to the subtle adjustments of their partner. In the same way, healthy relationships strike a delicate balance between autonomy and compassion through sensitivity, awareness, and on-going investigation. If we err on the side of autonomy, we can become cold, indifferent, or self-centered. Yet if we put all of our focus on others out of fear, habit, duty, or self-deprecation, we neglect our own needs, build resentment, and burn out. 

Do you have any recommendations for handling a heated disagreement with someone you’re living with? First and foremost, try not to take it personally. We’re all under so much stress right now, which means much of the time we may not be at our best. The more we can bear this in mind—to give others the benefit of the doubt, and be forgiving when we fall short of our aspirations—the easier it will be to navigate disagreements.

Another essential factor in doing our best is to take care of our own heart and mind. When we’re feeling stressed or under-resourced, it’s that much harder to have a meaningful, productive conversation. Be willing to set limits when you know you’re not in the right frame of mind for a difficult conversation. Tell the other person that you care for them, that what they want matters to you, and that you don’t have the bandwidth to discuss it right now. Then, propose another time for the conversation that would be better.

Once you’re in the conversation, try to slow down and pause. When we take a breath and slow down a little, we have more access to our good intentions, and can make better choices in the conversation. Even a moment or two interrupts habitual speech patterns and may help to break the cycle of blame and disconnection. Next, experiment with more active listening. Periodically say back what you’ve heard and check if it’s accurate. Even if you’re confident that you understand, it may still be helpful to offer a reflection in a heated moment in order to give the other person the experience of feeling heard. This can help to build trust, and slows the pace of a conversation down so there’s more space to reflect.

Finally, when it’s your turn to share, speak from the heart with as much honesty and as much care as possible. The two are not mutually exclusive. Do the work you need to do to get underneath any stories of blame or judgment to what really matters to you. Then share that with as much love as you can muster.

How can we find balance between our increasingly digital lives and our need for closeness? Research suggests our devices, rather than connecting us, lead to feelings of isolation and disconnection. Now we are relying on them more than ever to maintain relationships, both professional and personal. So much of this comes down to two things: presence and intention. It’s so easy to get lost in a screen—my body disappears, the people around me disappear. I can even lose my sense of time. Yet I’ve found that meditation can help us steer clear of falling headfirst into this kind of disembodiment by teaching us how to bring mindfulness, or presence, to the moment. The more in touch we are with the body, the greater capacity we have to experience joy and connection. This allows us to notice more subtle internal signals about our energy levels, such as a need for movement or a break from the screen. While sitting and looking at a screen, can we remain aware that we are sitting?

The other key factor here is intention. To give someone or something our full attention we have to want to be here. I can spend half an hour on a video chat with my parents (both of whom are in their 70s, with multiple high-risk factors for COVID-19), and feel mildly distracted the entire time. Or, I can take a few moments before the call to the calm myself, and consciously choose to be as fully present as possible. Then, even if the conversation is mundane, the time spent can be nourishing because my own heart and mind are imbued with presence, appreciation, and care. 

How would you recommend speaking with someone you know who is sick with or recovering from COVID-19? Take the time you need before speaking with them to clear your head and open your heart. The less stressed and distracted you are, the more you will be able to engage and respond intuitively from your heart. 

Ask them how they’re doing and then listen. Do your best to show empathy for what they are going through, authentically expressing your understanding. Then try to sense what might be useful. They may be more interested in catching up, talking about something else meaningful, or just chatting. The more open you are going into the conversation, the more flexibility you will have to meet them right where they are.

Many coming out of quarantine are fearful of the virus, others are grieving loved ones. How do you recommend speaking with people in these situations? It all comes back to allowing ourselves to be human with each other. It’s OK to feel afraid; it’s natural to grieve. The more we can honor the power and truth of these emotions in one another—rather than shunning or avoiding them, trying to fix them or make them go away—the more we can feel like we are truly in this together. 

For those that live alone, or those that crave a deeper connection but cannot get it right now, where can they turn to satisfy this need? If you have fewer people to turn to—maybe they’ve passed away, you’ve been estranged, or separated for good reasons—there are other ways to find connection. Any act of service or generosity, however small, can strengthen our sense of belonging. I’ve found that when I contribute time, energy, skills, or resources, I begin to recognize my own value and experience myself as embedded within a community. 

We also can turn inward to discover the connection we long for. The practice of lovingkindness, or metta meditation, reveals the depth of love in our hearts and the vast potential for connection we have as human begins. In fact, Insight Meditation teacher Sharon Salzberg (who popularized lovingkindness meditation in the West) often translates the word metta as “connection.” 

Mindful communication takes two premises as its starting point: 1) that speech and relationship are a powerful vehicle for spiritual transformation; and 2) that effective communication is a learned skill. This sets up an inner orientation to conversation that’s conducive to learning—one of humility, interest, empathy, and patience. When we approach our conversations and relationships as a world of learning, we gain a world of benefit—both internally and relationally. Our practice is no longer limited by the amount of free time we have to sit on a cushion. Every interaction becomes an opportunity to strengthen wholesome qualities of mind and heart. 

♦

The post Communicating in COVID appeared first on Tricycle: The Buddhist Review.

Many of us begin a spiritual path with gusto and determination—be it out of necessity, inspiration, or curiosity. We hold steady for weeks, months, or more. Inevitably, something changes, and we lose steam. The meditation practice to which we were once so devoted begins to feel like a chore as life gets busy, and we find we can’t bring ourselves to practice.

Making any time to sit is better than nothing, but the practice offers the greatest benefits when we meditate consistently. When we regularly take time to be still and listen carefully, we strengthen innumerable wholesome qualities in the heart and mind, lay a foundation for living wisely, and cultivate powerful seeds of insight and compassion.

Many of us are aware of this and still find it difficult to regularly get to the cushion. Even after an intensive seven- or ten-day retreat, we may return home with renewed commitment and energy, only to find the momentum dwindles, our energy fades, and we fall back into our old habit of sitting only when it suits us in the moment.

Why does this happen? There are a lot of reasons. Many conditions can affect our meditation habits, and each calls for a different response. The first step is to investigate what’s happening.

Wisely Reflect on Your Life

Sometimes a change in outer circumstances shifts our ability to meditate formally on a daily basis. Take a step back from the various threads of your life and consider what’s happening with the kind eye of a friend. Have you just ended a relationship, started a new job, or moved? Are you under a lot of pressure at work or dealing with the illness of a loved one? When in the midst of such turmoil we can overlook the immense challenge we are facing, with its concomitant demands on our time and energy.

Simply recognizing the impact of such a change can create more internal space, compassion, and relief. With a clearer view of what’s happening, we can reevaluate what support we might need and how formal meditation practice could be a part of that.

More often, though, it’s something within that is keeping our body away from the cushion or mat, like the opposing force between two magnets. Careful, patient investigation can help to reveal what’s moving under the surface and give us important clues about how to respond.

One of the most common reasons I find my own daily practice waning is if I lose my keel in the busyness of life. The to-do lists are endless and everything takes at least twice as long as we anticipate. When I allow the crazed, harried pace of modern society to replace the clarity of my intentions about how I want to live, everything suffers, including my daily practice. If we spend the day relentlessly jumping from one task to another, driving ourselves to get as much done in as little time as possible, what do we expect the quality of our minds to be when we sit down to meditate (if we even get there)? Instead, bringing as much patience and intention as we can to our daily activities has endless benefits, including finding it easier and generally more pleasant to meditate

Check Your Assumptions

One of the most common reasons practitioners lose steam is when our meditative experience doesn’t match our expectations. We come seeking peace, clarity, and ease, but we find the opposite: agitation, petty grudges, confusion, and utter nonsense.

Peace and clarity arrive through understanding these patterns and the underlying nature of our minds, rather than through stopping our thoughts, achieving some special state, or having a particular experience. When we remember and trust this, letting go of our expectations and ideas, we can find more space to refocus and recommit to our daily practice.

There also can be core beliefs operating at a deeper level that prevent us from realizing our aspirations. What are you telling yourself about your meditation? Is there a belief that if you really try you will fail—or that you are not good enough, smart enough, patient enough, or deficient in some other way? When unseen, these ideas have tremendous power: not only do they keep us from meditating but also can direct the course of our lives. Uncovering these beliefs can be hard work. Doing so generally takes time and can be facilitated with the support of skilled counselor or wise friend. (In the Pali Canon, the Buddha refers to such spiritual friends [kaliyana mitta] as “the whole of the spiritual life.”) Yet when we put forth the effort to identify and transform our self-limiting beliefs, we find enormous energy and potential

Turn Towards What’s Difficult

Intimately connected with our unmet expectations and beliefs is our distaste for unpleasant experiences. Why sit still for 30 minutes with unpleasant thoughts, sensations, and emotions when one can get some easy respite from the insanity of life by disappearing into a screen or a bag of chips? While there is a time and place for conscious, skillful distraction, there is much to be learned (and healing to be had) from voluntarily engaging with the range of dark, sticky, sharp, frantic, dull, or generally disagreeable corners of our minds.

Much of this rocky terrain is comprised of what are known as the five hindrances in the Buddhist tradition. These are deeply embedded mental energies that the Buddha noticed obscure the clarity of the mind and hinder our development along a spiritual path. Whether you identify as a Buddhist or not, after committing to a regular meditation practice you’ll become familiar with these visitors: craving, aversion, sleepiness or apathy, restless agitation or worry, and doubt.

Learning to recognize these forces when they arise and having a range of skillful means to set them aside is indispensable for any meditation practice. If your daily practice is waning, there’s a good chance that the unpleasant nature of one (or more) of these hindrances may be what’s driving you away. Call to mind the list of these five “foes” and have a look if any of them are taking over your meditations and making it less appealing to practice. 

Finding Our Way Back

So if you find yourself avoiding the cushion or mat, first have a look inside and out to see what’s going on. Once you uncover some of the conditions that are preventing you from practicing or creating the resistance, think creatively about what to do differently. At times, just this can be enough to muster up the courage and persistence to stick with our practice. At other times, we may need the input of a skilled guide, mentor, or spiritual friend to help us navigate the rough waters. 

One approach that works for me is a three-step process I call reconnect, recommit, and reevaluate.

Reconnect

Reconnecting with our motivation can provide renewed energy to keep going. It’s important to learn how to contact your sincere, heartfelt motivation for meditation. What drew you to your spiritual practice initially?

One of the most powerful gifts I’ve received is the question posed to me by my teachers, “What do you want?” In Buddhism, we hear a lot about desire as the cause of suffering. This is often misunderstood to mean that we should let go of all desire. Rather, it is specifically the energies of craving and grasping that are problematic: the often unconscious, sometimes obsessive reflex to want something to fill us up or satisfy us.

The Buddha also spoke about something called dhamma chanda, zeal and enthusiasm for the truth. This is the wholesome impulse in the heart toward the higher potentials of human existence. It is the healthy longing we feel for things like peace, goodness, clarity, wisdom, and care. Reconnect with this aspiration. Remind yourself of life’s great mysteries; recollect your wish to cultivate the heart/mind to its full potential.

Another tack is to reflect on any benefits of practice you’ve experienced. Perhaps you aren’t a paragon of wisdom, radiating light wherever you go, but maybe you’re a little more patient or more careful with your actions and words. Seeing the fruits of our meditation can bring energy for practice.

If none of the above suggestions spark this connection, get creative: try journaling, pick up a good dharma book, or listen to a talk by a favorite teacher.

Recommit

Once you’ve reconnected with why you practice, take stock and see what concrete steps will support you to stay connected with it on a daily basis. Commit to put forth time and energy to move in that direction. I recommend setting aside at least a few minutes each morning to remember your aspiration in a heartfelt way, recalling the deeper values and motivations by which you choose to live. Using a short gatha, or verse, can be helpful for this. Here is one from Thich Nhat Hanh that I used every morning when I first began practicing:

Waking up this morning, I smile. Today is a new day, with 24 brand
new hours before me. I vow to live each moment fully, 
And to look at all beings with eyes of compassion.
—Thich Nhat Hanh

You can write your own, something that feels authentic and gives voice to what is most true for you. This isn’t exactly prayer (although it shares certain features and may serve similar ends); it is a practice of realigning our hearts and minds with our deepest intentions for living. If we do nothing else, taking a few quiet moments at the beginning of each day can have a powerful orienting effect on our lives.

Next, set some minimums. What specific actions can you commit to doing on a daily basis to live your intentions? Consider what is reasonable given your current life circumstances. If you work a full time job and are raising a family, meditating for two hours every day may be a stretch. Be honest, but don’t be afraid to challenge yourself a little. 

Consistency, quality, and continuity are more important than quantity: 10-20 minutes of sincere practice every day for a week will probably serve you better than an hour over the weekend. Setting a time each day for formal meditation will help create, or recreate, the rhythm of daily practice.

There’s no need, however, to limit your spiritual practice to formal periods of meditation. When people used to come to the renowned Thai Forest meditation master Ajahn Chah complaining that they did not have time to meditate, he is said to have responded, “Do you have time to breathe? Then you have time to meditate.” Start by picking an activity that you do every day, like brushing your teeth, washing the dishes, or commuting to work, and commit to doing this activity as mindfully as possible for one week. Make a continual and gentle effort to bring steady attention to such daily activities. As we do this over time, our formal practice and our daily life begin to support each other until there is less and less separation between the two.

Reevaluate

This last step is crucial. After you’ve reconnected with your intentions, created a plan and committed to following it for a period, take some time to reevaluate. How did it go? What worked? If you lost the plot along the way, see if you can discern what diverted your intention. Was the goal you set not as doable as you expected? Did you hit an internal block you didn’t know how to work with? Perhaps you simply forgot until the reminder to “reevaluate” popped up in your calendar.

It is essential to do this kind of inquiry with an attitude of curiosity and love rather than one of self-judgment. Remember that our energies here are focused toward living a full and meaningful life that is connected with the beautiful, uplifting qualities of the human heart. Try to pick up that tone, so that you are coming from a place of kindness and loving support when you reevaluate. You might liken it to helping a good friend on a project or aiding a child with their homework. How would you relate to their difficulties?

Now comes the creative part: once you’ve reevaluated how it went, you get to tweak the recipe for the next week. If something got in the way, what can you do differently? If you got tripped up peeking at your email before meditating (and never made it to the cushion), set a firm determination to restrain the impulse to turn on the phone/computer until after your morning practice. If the goal was too ambitious, dial it back. If you more or less hit the mark, you might re-up for another week to strengthen your momentum before adding something new.

The benefits of having a regular meditation practice and integrating it into our lives are immense. I hope these reflections have been helpful, and that they support you in developing or deepening your daily practice to discover these benefits for yourself.

♦

This article was originally published in 2019.

The post Why Can’t I Get to the Cushion? appeared first on Tricycle: The Buddhist Review.

Explore the Buddha’s ancient guidelines for right speech with tools to translate those teachings into the fast-paced conversations of a modern world. In this series, Insight meditation teacher and nonviolent communication trainer Oren Jay Sofer shares three foundations of mindful communication to bring your deeper values and intentions into every interaction. Learn to create the conditions for understanding, use basic building blocks of good conversation, and identify and skillfully express your needs.

Read more in Oren Jay Sofer and Sharon Salzberg’s interview here: A Field Guide to Right Speech

Oren Jay Sofer is a member of the Spirit Rock Teacher’s Council. He leads retreats and workshops on mindful communication at meditation centers and educational settings around the country and is the author of Say What You Mean: A Mindful Approach to Nonviolent Communication.

The post The Buddha’s Communication Toolbox appeared first on Tricycle: The Buddhist Review.

When it comes to conversation, the force of our habits and the pressure of social settings can make it exceedingly difficult to maintain awareness. Here, mindfulness practice serves as a basis. We can use the arena of conversation itself as a training ground for presence, using techniques to anchor awareness within the midst of exchange and developing the capacity for relational awareness.

Consciously choosing when to speak and when to listen is essential for meaningful conversation. In some respects, it’s the most basic communication skill. How many times have you said something, only to wish you could take it back moments after the words left your mouth? Or hit “Send” on an email when it might have been better to let things cool off? It’s equally important to have the courage to say our piece. When we don’t speak up, we can feel as if we’ve let ourselves or our loved ones down.

Conversation is a dynamic interplay between each person’s choice to speak or listen. When those choices are conscious and respectful, conversations tend to be more productive and enjoyable. If those choices are unconscious or impulsive, conversations tend to be less productive and more stressful.

Related: Say It Right

I call this juncture the “choice point” between speaking and listening. With presence, every moment offers a choice. Our ability to maintain presence at the choice point takes practice. Sometimes the moment of choice races by like a road sign while we are doing 75 miles per hour on the freeway. The impulse to speak can be so strong that it impels us to verbalize simply to release the internal pressure. If we tend toward the quieter side, it can feel as if those openings in a conversation disappear before we can muster our voice.

This is where mindfulness comes in. In meditation, we learn how to observe unpleasant sensations (knee pain, a sore back) without immediately reacting. We develop the capacity to be aware of an impulse without acting on it.

The anxiety we feel in conversation is usually rooted in deeper needs to be seen or heard, needs for safety, acceptance, belonging, and so on. The less confident we feel in meeting those needs, the more pressure we will experience to speak up or remain silent. We may fear that if we don’t say something right now we’ll never be able to do so. Or that if we do say something, disaster or disconnection will surely ensue.

Related: A Field Guide to Right Speech

The more ways we find to meet those needs (and to handle them skillfully when they aren’t met), the less pressure we feel to speak or remain silent; we can relax into the flow of a conversation. There’s no danger in speaking our mind and no rush to say it all at once. If it’s important, we’ll find the right time and way to say it.

This capacity builds slowly. As we practice honoring our needs, we learn to trust ourselves. Paying attention to any small successes helps our nervous system settle and reset. With a new baseline of ease, it can stop setting off false alarms that impel us to speak or prevent us from speaking, and our ability to make more conscious choices grows. We can then discern what’s going to be most helpful to move a conversation forward and how to balance all the needs on the table.

Practice: Choice Points

To practice, choose someone with whom you feel relatively comfortable. This familiarity makes it easier to learn the tool. During a conversation, notice when you choose to speak. If you find yourself talking without having consciously chosen to do so, try stopping and leaving space for the other person to continue. Notice what it’s like to actively choose to say something rather than doing so automatically. Pay particular attention to any urgency or reluctance to speak or any sensations of internal pressure. Use that pressure as a signal to make a more conscious choice.

Meetings

There tends to be more freedom to remain silent in meetings than during one-to-one conversations. The next time you are in a meeting, notice how the impulse to speak can rise and fall as the conversation unfolds. If there is an important point you’d like to make, choose when to do so. You can always begin, “I’d like to go back to something we were talking about a few moments ago.” Notice how it feels after you speak. Is there relief? Anxiety or self-doubt?

Written Communication

Experiment with making conscious choices about when you check your inbox or social media feeds (“listening”). When you do engage, pause before replying to consider whether or not you want to “speak.” Is this the right time? Would it be useful to wait or to say nothing at all?

Part of this investigation is getting to know our own patterns. Do we tend to speak easily and freely, finding it harder to leave space for others? Is it more comfortable for us to listen, finding it challenging to come forward?

Most of us tend to be stronger in one area. Circumstances and events tied to our gender, race, class, or other aspects of our social location tend to mold how we show up relationally. We’ve all received messages—explicitly and implicitly, personally and through media, stories, and culture—about how we are expected to behave. Through various cues of approval or disapproval, inclusion or exclusion, we learn what’s safest based on our role and the expectations of others.

Our work is to uncover these patterns and develop an authentic freedom of expression. There is no ideal way to be, no one thing to do in all circumstances. The goal is dynamic flexibility through presence, choosing to speak or listen as needed.

♦

Adapted from Say What You Mean: A Mindful Approach to Nonviolent Communication, by Oren Jay Sofer © 2018. Reprinted with permission of Shambhala Publications (shambhala.com).

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Learn more about right speech in Oren Jay Sofer’s Tricycle Dharma Talk, The Buddha’s Communication Toolbox.

The post When to Speak and When to Listen appeared first on Tricycle: The Buddhist Review.