Over a decade ago, when I was a relatively new meditation teacher, a friend told me about a Tibetan Rinpoche who instructed his students to practice “extreme” letting go. He told them to stop whatever they were doing, let their limbs and muscles go limp, and literally fall down wherever they happened to be so they could “taste” the experience of releasing their clinging mind-states. He suggested doing this practice several times a day, and so they would crash to the floor or the earth on sidewalks, in office hallways, and in their kitchens. At the time, I thought it was a ridiculous and maybe even dangerous idea, and I wondered who would be foolish enough to follow such directions. But lately, I’ve grown to understand the usefulness of this teaching, as well as my aversion to it, because I’ve had to recognize and accept the truth about myself: I’m a control freak. And learning to let go—to relax and fall down, literally or metaphorically, into the reality of the present moment—is the only cure for it. 

In the past, I didn’t think of myself as a control freak, because I generally don’t try to control what other people do or say, I’m fairly adaptable to new situations, and I can tolerate difficulty as well as anyone else. But even though I don’t fall into the archetype of a demanding or rigid perfectionist, I’ve struggled for a long time to accept my lack of control over the future. For example, I often plan for the worst outcomes, strategize solutions to problems that aren’t happening, and fantasize about preventing unwanted or dangerous events from occurring. And because all of this worrying and planning prevents me from settling into the present moment, it’s difficult for me to fully rest or feel at ease.

This became all too clear at a meditation retreat a few years ago, during the pandemic. Because of social distancing and mandatory mask-wearing, we retreatants spent most of our time in our rooms. I’d brought along a notebook of inspiring Buddhist quotes and was contemplating Ajahn Chah’s advice: “If you let go a little, you will have a little peace. If you let go a lot, you will have a lot of peace. And if you let go completely, you will have complete peace.” As I repeated it silently to myself, I remembered the Rinpoche’s “extreme” letting go instructions and could feel my body relax. I realized that both teachers were right—I felt open, present, and less trepidatious about life. But I didn’t like it—the stillness and quiet in my mind were unfamiliar and unsettling, and I felt unprotected without all the plans and schemes that I thought were keeping me safe. My stomach clenched, my jaw tightened, and my heart closed. Even there, in that quiet, safe, and beautiful environment, I felt too helpless and weak to stop clinging. 

A minute later, I thought to myself, “Kim, what’s wrong with feeling helpless and weak?” In response, I felt a wave of sadness and fear, followed by the profound insight that my life was not special. I was subject to aging, sickness, and death just like everyone else, and I deeply understood that being a control freak enabled me to believe that I was immune to this truth. But, of course, every human is fragile and soft, subject to changes and losses that aren’t in our control. We can’t command the weather, other people, or a pandemic. And though there’s nothing wrong with using our actions to help prevent harm and contribute to beneficial and healthy conditions for ourselves and others, the outcomes are not up to us.

I finally saw that I had a choice—I could keep holding on to my painful and traumatic fantasies and continue suffering, or I could let them go and learn to tolerate and embrace my vulnerable and impermanent life. I put my hand on my heart, felt my body breathing, and chose to let my heart open to myself. As these painful feelings arose again, I remembered a practice from Thich Nhat Hanh and said to myself, “I see you, sadness and fear and I’m not going to leave you.” As I repeated these words of kindness, I felt my face, hands, and chest relax and a sense of contentment and ease arise, because I’d finally stopped trying to protect myself from this naked and tender experience of being. Paradoxically, welcoming my sense of vulnerability didn’t mean I was weak—rather, it signified courage, and the profound wisdom of meeting the future when it arrived, and not before. It inspired in me a deep confidence that, whatever happened, I could trust myself to meet it skillfully with compassion. 

Meditation is called a practice because it takes time and training to rewire and change old conditioned patterns of behavior. That experience from the retreat doesn’t mean I will never worry or try to control things anymore. But when I do sense a tightening and unease about the future, I know that I can return to my breath, connect to my feelings, and trust in the unfolding of life. It’s possible to be more open, present, and less trepidatious about life, and it’s okay to relax, take a breath, and slowly allow my illusion of control to fade. And, though I don’t think it’s necessary to fall to the pavement in a parking lot to experience the sensation of letting go, it’s a wonderful metaphor and skillful teaching that shows us that it is truly possible to drop everything—all our desires, fears, and delusions—and surrender to the truth of the present moment. 

With mindfulness and compassion, all of us can learn to meet our precious lives without aversion or ignorance and instead attend to our sadness and anxiety with love, kindness, and wisdom. If you suspect you’re a control freak like me—and frankly, I think you are because we all are—I hope you’ll practice this lovingkindness meditation that will remind you to relax, let go, and fall into the present moment again, and again, and again. 

Lovingkindness for Control Freaks 

• Find a quiet place, get still, and take a few deep inhales and exhales. Then put your hand on your heart. 

• Establish a connection with yourself. You can visualize yourself—as you look in the mirror or maybe in a moment of your childhood—or just have a sense of your loving presence. Then say these sentences silently to yourself: “May I be easy with the way life unfolds. May I be open-hearted and free.” Repeat each sentence as though you’re giving it as a gift to yourself.

• After a few minutes, include someone else who is struggling. You might imagine this person is sitting with you, or you can just have a sense of them and you together. Then say this silently to you both: “May we be easy with the way life unfolds. May we be open-hearted and free.”

• Finally, you can share your good heart and wisdom by imagining all the people all over the world struggling right now with a crisis, disaster, or unexpected calamity, and say to all: “May we be easy with the way life unfolds. May everyone be open-hearted and free.”

• After a few minutes, you can stop repeating the phrases. Just let yourself stay still, with your eyes closed, and rest here for a few minutes before you get up. Be sure to say “thank you” to yourself for your wisdom and skillful efforts.

The post Lovingkindness for Control Freaks appeared first on Tricycle: The Buddhist Review.

Every Buddhist tradition that I’ve studied talks about lineage. Every teacher will talk about their teacher and their teacher’s teacher and their teacher’s teacher’s teacher, going all the way back to the Buddha. We talk about lineage to honor the people that came before us and to have gratitude for them. But lineage also connects us to all these other beings and reminds us that we’re not alone. There are a lot of others who have gone before us, they will in the future, and they are right now.

That was very inspiring to me when I first started studying Buddhism. Then I realized that we all have a lineage, even if we’re not Buddhist. Our lineage is all the people that have supported us, all the animals that have supported us, and the earth that has supported us. You can even go back to before you were born. There were very likely people who helped your mother while she was pregnant: medical providers, family, and friends. People probably opened doors for her. This lineage continued when we were kids. People taught us how to walk and to read. And even if our families weren’t so great, there were teachers and strangers and friends.

When you start to review that lineage, you can realize that it continues today. A lot of beings are supporting us, and we’re supporting a lot of beings. Our lineage can remind us that we aren’t going through this alone. We can ask for help, and people will come out and help us.

[This happened to me] soon after my mom died. My mom and I had a terrible relationship, and when she died, I thought I would be relieved, or at least I wouldn’t be so affected. But her death was very, very affecting. For about six months to a year afterward, I was really, really struggling. My mind was very unsteady, and I really didn’t know what to do at times.

A Tibetan teacher once told me, “When you’re in trouble, you can just call on the buddhas because that’s their job. They’ll come. They’ll help you.” It seemed so silly, and I didn’t really believe that sort of thing. But, one day, I was feeling so hopeless, and I thought, “Alright, buddhas, if you’re here, I really need some help.” I was on my way to an appointment with a therapist. When I walked out of the subway, I encountered a street vendor who said to me, “Hey, are you OK? Can I give you a cup of tea?” And he did. Then someone else smiled at me, and then I got a text from my oldest friend saying, “I’m thinking of you. Are you OK?” And then, of course, I got to my therapist’s office.

I still continue to believe that that’s what’s meant by the buddhas, at least today. That’s how they’re manifesting. They’re from each other, from us. They’re all here right now. And we can ask for that help and really tap into it.

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I’ve spent a lot of time trying to change other people’s minds—getting my father to agree that handgun ownership is unsafe, persuading an old friend that my denim maxi dress looks great, and, most recently, offering facts and explanations to a neighbor who I think should appreciate our local Open Street initiative and stop protesting it. Sometimes, the person I’m trying to persuade will listen politely and consider my opinions and information. But most of the time, they’re offended or frustrated—and so am I. The truth is, while it’s fine to disagree with others, offer facts about a situation, and even argue the pros and cons of it, what someone else thinks or believes is not up to me. It’s simply not in my power to change another person’s mind, and trying to do so is one of the most common causes of dukkha, the Pali Buddhist word for suffering or dissatisfaction. 

We’ve all experienced this type of dukkha. Who hasn’t tried to change another person’s mind, usually with the best intentions? We want others to make good decisions, or we try to stop them from causing harm to themselves or another. But most often our advice or our intervention is ignored or disputed, and that’s usually when we notice our frustration, resentment, and/or anger. This type of suffering can be especially acute when we feel sure that we’re right—that our information and understanding is true—and that the other person is wrong or confused. When we’re sure that another person’s ignorant or deluded beliefs and actions are dangerous to them, their community, or the world, it can lead us to believe that we must find a way to change their minds. But since that’s not possible, what should we do?  

Cultivating wisdom and discernment includes knowing the most useful action we can take in any moment. Buddhists call this upaya—skillful means—and it requires that we understand what we can control and what we can’t, and how to use our thoughts, speech, and behavior in the most beneficial way. When you’re feeling frustrated that you can’t change someone’s harmful opinions or terrible judgment, it’s important to recognize the skillful means you can use to care for yourself and others. One way is to identify actions that will mitigate the harm or potential harm the person is causing. This could mean voting for an opposing candidate or party than theirs; offering your time supporting, listening, or volunteering with those affected or oppressed by their policies; or simply talking with family and friends about your concerns in a friendly and non-aggressive way. Though you can’t change someone’s mind, you may be able to affect the outcome of their choices, and help create conditions for everyone to flourish. 

Another type of other skillful means is to wish the person well through the practice of metta, or lovingkindness. Wishing them well—by giving them your compassion, love, and wisdom—alleviates your own suffering, by easing the painful mind-states of neediness, aversion, and delusion. When you feel less tense and afraid, your mind becomes steadier and clearer and you can make wise choices and smart decisions instead of saying or doing things out of anger or upset. 

When you’re feeling frustrated that you can’t change someone’s harmful opinions or terrible judgment, it’s important to recognize the skillful means you can use to care for yourself and others.

Giving metta as a skillful means doesn’t mean you agree with this person or approve of their position or their choices. It simply means that you acknowledge that they are a human being just like you—they want to be happy, to live in peace and safety, and to have good health. When you offer metta to a person who frustrates you, you’re including them in your wish that everyone has the conditions to thrive and live with joy. This is because we all deserve to be free from suffering and the causes of suffering. This is true even for people you don’t like or those who are dangerous. You can adopt an attitude toward them of “I love you and no”— knowing that you will do your best to stop them from exercising their poor judgment or causing harm, while at the same time wishing for them to have well-being and ease. 

Open-heartedness helps us gain a wider perspective and realize that we’re all vulnerable and fragile.

Another reason that metta practice is skillful means is because it keeps our hearts open—to ourselves and even to those we don’t like or who hold harmful opinions. This open-heartedness helps us gain a wider perspective and realize that we’re all vulnerable and fragile, because everything is impermanent and conditions in life are constantly changing. This is why a bodhisattva vows to never give up on anyone—because they understand there might be a time in the future where we can reconnect with others, and bodhisattvas want their heart to be open and available when such an opportunity arises, ready to support and encourage everyone’s compassion and good sense. 

I know how hard it is to let go of the need to change someone’s mind, but I also know it’s possible to lessen this attachment. I encourage you to practice the following traditional Buddhist metta contemplation that I use in such moments when you catch yourself in a similar situation. 

1. Shut off your devices, find a quiet spot, and stop talking. Get still and sit comfortably on a chair or the floor or your bed. Put your hand on your heart and take a few conscious breaths, perhaps deepening your inhales and exhales. 
2. Now make a connection with yourself. Feel your presence with your hand on your heart or your belly, imagine you’re looking in the mirror, or perhaps visualize yourself in childhood. Say this phrase to yourself, “May I accept myself as I am. May I be at peace.” Continue repeating this silently to yourself for a few minutes. 
3. Next, make a connection with the person whose mind you’d like to change. Imagine they’re sitting near you, and silently say these phrases to them, “May I accept you as you are. May you be at peace.” Repeat for a few minutes. 
4. Finally, consider all of us struggling beings who want to be happy and free. Make a connection with us all—maybe just allowing your heart to open to the life around you, or imagining the living beings on the earth—and silently say for a few minutes, “May we accept each other as we are. May all beings be at peace.”
5. You can do this practice whenever you feel frustrated with another person or even at yourself. Each time you end your meditation, be sure to appreciate your wisdom and compassion, by whispering “thank you” to yourself for your sincere efforts. 

The post Want to Change Someone Else’s Mind? Try This Instead. appeared first on Tricycle: The Buddhist Review.

It’s easy to see what you’ve done to help others. The grocery shopping you did for your neighbor when she broke her arm, the resume you helped your son put together for his first job, all the donations you’ve made and causes for which you’ve volunteered for decades.  

It’s also easy to see all that others have done to help you. The first-grade teacher that lent you books and encouraged your interest in reading, the regular that left you a big tip at the restaurant where you worked, and colleagues who spoke up on your behalf when you were bullied by your boss. These are just a few of countless supportive actions you’ve given and received. But you’ve also given and received countless supportive non-actions—moments when you’ve refrained from harmful speech or bad behavior, or someone else refrained from saying or doing something that could hurt you.

It’s hard to see not-doing—but we know that the outcome of not-doing matters. The unkind comments your friend did not leave on your father’s recent inaccurate and inflammatory social media post or the second piece of cheesecake you did not eat—these are non-actions that prevented hurt and possible harm. Not-doing means refraining from cultivating unwise thoughts, words, or deeds. It may not seem as important or interesting as doing something like flying off to deliver humanitarian aid to a war zone or rescuing abused farm animals, both of which are noble and beneficial things to do. But making the choice to use restraint and self-discipline to not-do, is equally, if not more so, as powerful and meaningful. Imagine all the lives that have been saved and protected from injury or hurt, simply because so many people have decided to refrain from driving a vehicle while intoxicated. Or everyone who didn’t get sick because people with the flu or COVID-19 stayed home and didn’t spread the disease. Practicing not-doing means the causes and conditions that create many problems and struggles vanish. No solution needs to be found, no cure discovered, and no help is even necessary. 

That’s why the Buddhist tradition is grounded in not-doing—because so much of the suffering in the world could be entirely alleviated if we simply didn’t cause it. 

The Buddha’s five precepts—which are practiced in every lineage—are vows of not-doing—commitments to refrain from killing, stealing, sexual misconduct, lying, and over-consumption. The Buddhist practices of mindfulness and compassion are designed to help us uphold these precepts by showing us how to clearly see our thoughts, words, and deeds and the effect they have on ourselves and others. The paramitas also help us develop the skill of not-doing, especially virya—diligence or discipline—and kshanti—patience or forbearance. Practicing virya, we train ourselves to stop habitual activities and patterns of behavior that cause injury or damage. With kshanti, we develop self-control and tolerance toward our difficult feelings and impulses, so instead of behaving thoughtlessly or reactively, we are able to choose not to act at all. 

In his book Being Peace, Thich Nhat Hanh wrote, “Preventing war is much better than protesting against the war. Protesting the war is too late.” But it’s not too late to learn the practice of not-doing. You can help prevent a war by defeating its causes—by not acting out of hatred, greed, and delusion. You can contribute to healing the earth by refraining from overconsumption of resources. And you can prevent your own painful feelings of regret, shame, and guilt, by not saying unkind and thoughtless words, and not doing unethical or destructive deeds. 

Stay Meditation 

The following meditation will help you cultivate the qualities needed for not-doing, and give you the freedom to recognize when the most skillful and beneficial action is doing nothing at all. 

1. To begin, find a quiet place where you can sit or lie down without being disturbed. 
2. Set a timer for fifteen minutes, then keep your phone and computer out of reach. Turn off any music or television, and don’t talk. 
3. Get still. Stop moving around. Don’t close your eyes. Keep them half-closed, lowering your gaze softly a few feet in front of you on the floor. You don’t need to move your eyes around because you’re not looking at or for anything. Keep them still and just let the light enter.  
4. Rest your hand on your belly. Bring your attention here and take five conscious breaths, perhaps inhaling a little more deeply, and exhaling a bit more fully, noticing each rise and fall with the palm of your hand. 
5. Place your attention here, on your belly as it rises and falls with your breath. You don’t have to change your breathing.  If you notice you’re trying to control it, do your best to let go and just rest on your natural respiration. 
6. As you’re sitting, you might notice emotions or impulses to get up, to make dinner or check your email, to do anything except stay. When this happens, you can place your hand on your heart and gently say to yourself, “Stay.” You can repeat this as many times as needed, breathing in “Stay” and breathing out “Stay.” Continue like this for the entire fifteen minutes, resisting the urge to get up, to do anything but stay. 
7. When the timer ends, don’t jump up and abruptly and start a new task. Take a moment to mindfully stop the alarm, inhale and exhale a few times, and take a big stretch. Be sure to say thank you to yourself and appreciate everything you didn’t do. 

The post What You’re <i>Not</i> Doing Matters appeared first on Tricycle: The Buddhist Review.

Living your best life is a popular expression these days, a pervasive belief that everyone can—and should—be happier by getting what they want. It usually means having more material things, looking beautiful, and having a lifestyle with a lot of leisure time and a rewarding and high-paying job. If you search the hashtag #liveyourbestlife on Instagram, the results include before-and-after photos of weight loss and diet plans; glossy pictures of digital nomads in Bali, Rome, and Belize; yoga moms with their kids in coordinating outfits outside of renovated farmhouses; and advice quotes from tech-startup founders and new age spiritual teachers. Thousands of programs, classes, and books are available to teach us all how to live our best lives, and nearly all purport to tell us how to increase our wealth; land our dream job; find the perfect relationship; be beautiful, fit, and healthy; and feel good all the time. 

Clearly, this idea of living your best life is deeply ignorant, because it’s demonstrably untrue—it’s neither possible nor the best life. It’s impossible because very few of us have the resources or privilege—the time, money, education, social connections, ability—necessary to get an interview for a high-paying prestige profession; go hiking in the rainforest; hire a life coach; or quit a job, find investment capital, and become an entrepreneur. The vast majority of us simply need and want to make a decent living to support ourselves and our families, and to do so in a position that pays fairly and treats us with dignity and respect. In fact, right now, just over eleven percent of Americans live in poverty, and over four percent are currently unemployed. Suggesting that it’s possible for everyone to live this version of a best life is a dangerous and cruel delusion. 

Furthermore, living your best life in this way is actually not the best life because it necessarily means that the life you have is not enough and never will be until you get everything you want. It requires comparing yourself to others who have more than you, and ignoring the blessings that you currently enjoy. This cycle of wanting and getting—the Sanskrit word for it is samsara—is never satisfying because desire and comparison create more desire and comparison, not less. They generate greed, aversion, and delusion—the poisonous root causes of unhappiness and suffering. A real best life is a happy one, which is not the same as getting what you want. Real happiness is freedom from these poisonous roots of suffering, also called neediness, hatred, and ignorance.

The Buddha explained that it’s easy to live a real best life. All we have to do is create the conditions that will end our suffering and create happiness. When we live this real best life, our mind is steady and clear and present-focused, and we’re not swept away by envy or shame, so we don’t have reasons to regret or feel guilty about our actions. We feel content about ourselves and at peace with our life. The way to do this is pretty simple—we just need to appreciate our blessings, cultivate our wholesome qualities, and act compassionately with wisdom for ourselves and each other. 

Appreciation arises just from noticing what we already have. Using mindfulness, we can turn our attention away from what we think we lack or are missing from our life, and instead choose to focus on the healthy, supportive, and positive aspects that we all enjoy. This can include: friends and family who love us; material things that we often overlook, like unlimited potable water from our tap, or warm shoes; shelter from the rain; and inner qualities like kindness, patience, and a warm heart, which we may dismiss or overlook as unimportant. Even if we struggle with illness, experience painful loss, or have other hardships, all of us can balance our difficulties by recognizing our advantages, however small they might seem. Even something as seemingly insignificant as an easeful breath can be a cause for appreciation. 

A real best life is one in which we develop our limitless capacity for love, wisdom, compassion, and joy—what the Buddha called the Four Immeasurables. Cultivating these qualities dispels distressing feelings like jealousy, self-loathing, and boredom. It gladdens our mind and reminds us that we are worthy, loveable, and wise—and so is everyone else. Developing our beautiful qualities deeply connects us with the truth—that all living beings want to be happy and free, just like we do, and all deserve to live their real best life, too. We realize we’re not in competition with anyone else—in fact, we have a true intention that everyone, everywhere, including us, deserve to live their real best life, and it’s a pleasure and an honor to use our wisdom and compassion to help make this happen. 

As we practice the Four Immeasurables, we begin to recognize the deep connection we share with everyone, and we gain confidence in our actions. We learn to use our thoughts, words, and behaviors skillfully, to benefit and not harm ourselves and each other. We notice that our clear communication and ethical behavior has an effect on everyone we encounter, and we begin to accept that we are significant and all that we do matters. This enables us to accept an important truth—that there are tremendous possibilities for positive change and growth for ourselves, society, and the world, now and in the future, and that we can contribute to creating them. 

Because living our real best life is tethered to our intention to be happy and free and to help everyone else be happy and free, we don’t have to feel ashamed, regretful, or guilty, even when we make mistakes or forget our blessings. We can learn from our actions and start again and again. And, as we lead our real best life we naturally feel good because our wholesome qualities expand. We begin to trust ourselves to weather difficulty, sadness, and upset, and to keep a steady mind when we have success, good fortune, or achievement. 

If you think you should be living your best life, consider living your real best life. Everyone, including you, can do this with true contentment, abiding happiness, and deep appreciation for what you have and who you are. If you feel like something is missing, if you’re envious of others, or if you’re comparing yourself to other people, you can begin living your real best life by doing the following meditation. 

1. Shut off your devices, find a quiet spot, and stop talking. Get still and sit comfortably on a chair or the floor or even in your car. Put your hand on your heart and take ten conscious breaths, perhaps deepening your inhales and exhales. 
2. Now think of someone you know who is dissatisfied with their life. It could be someone close to you who complains a lot, or a colleague who’s never satisfied, or even someone you know from the news or the internet. Imagine they’re sitting near you, and silently say these phrases to them, “May you recognize all your good blessings. May you be content and at ease with yourself.” Repeat for five minutes. 
3. Next you can think of yourself. You can put your hand on your heart and feel your presence, or perhaps you imagine yourself as a child. Then give yourself the same kindness, repeating silently to yourself for five minutes, “May I recognize all my good blessings. May I be content and at ease with myself.” 
4. Finally, consider all of us dissatisfied and confused beings who want to be happy and free just like you do. Make a connection with us all—maybe just allowing your heart to open to the life around you, or imagining the living beings on the Earth—and silently say for a few minutes, “May everyone recognize all our good blessings. May we be content and at ease with ourselves.” 
5. You can do this practice whenever you feel like you’re not enough or you’re desperately wishing for something or you’re filled with envy. Try to do it every day, even if it’s just for a few minutes. Each time you end your meditation, be sure to appreciate your wisdom and compassion, by whispering “thank you” to yourself for your sincere efforts. 

The post Living Your <i>Real</i> Best Life appeared first on Tricycle: The Buddhist Review.

Thanks to modern technology, we regularly see photographs and videos of terrible events happening around the world. On television, the internet, and social media, each day we witness disasters, violence, cruelty, injustice, even murder. As a global society and as individuals, access to this information is necessary and important. Collectively, it helps us make informed policy decisions, address injustice, and raise awareness of people and places that might otherwise go unnoticed. Individually, it helps us connect with the suffering and the joy happening in places far away, to people we’ve never met and perhaps never will meet, to remind us of our shared humanity and how our actions can create positive—and negative—changes for all beings. 

Sometimes, viewing all this struggle and pain can be overwhelming, making us feel helpless and discouraged. One person can’t possibly solve all the terrible things happening in the world, so why even worry about it? That’s how my student, Briana, felt last month when she told me, with frustration and anger, “Kim, there’s nothing I can do to fix these problems—in  Afghanistan, in New Orleans—so I’m just going to make a donation and forget about it!”  

I understood her frustration and discouragement. Many times I’ve felt the same way. Witnessing so much pain and sorrow so frequently, it’s hard not to feel frustrated, angry, and impotent. But even though we don’t have the power to end all suffering right now, wisdom shows us that we don’t need to fall into despair or indifference. Although it might not seem like it, there is always something we can do, and that is to skillfully pay attention.

Skillful attention is not the same as watching the news or reading social media. It’s choosing to direct our mindfulness and compassion to other living beings, and to make a real connection to their experience with our minds and hearts. When we truly direct our attention to anyone who is fearful, sick, or distressed, we can allow ourselves to feel their pain and struggle, and recognize that just like us, they want to be happy and free from suffering. With skillful attention, we understand our shared humanity and the poignant truth that all of our lives are precious and vulnerable. With this wisdom, our natural empathy and compassion arises and we’re able to deeply connect with everyone’s struggles and suffering—including our own.  

With skillful attention we also recognize that all our lives are deeply and inextricably connected, so all of our actions—our thoughts, speech, and behaviors—matter. Though we may not be able to prevent all suffering—from war and racism to poverty—right now, we can take actions to create conditions so that this suffering is alleviated in the future. Practicing skillful attention allows us to take the long view, knowing that the outcome of our actions will have effects even after we die.  

If you’re feeling hopeless and disheartened by the state of the world, I encourage you to use your skillful attention to make a real connection to all living beings. Find a quiet spot, get still, stop talking, and put your hand on your heart. Take a few breaths, then imagine someone you love, and say silently, “May you be free from danger, violence, and hatred. May your actions  bring benefit and do no harm.” After a few minutes, think of yourself, and say silently, “May I be free from danger, violence, and hatred. May my actions bring benefit and do no harm.” Take your time. Then, when you’re ready, include your loved one and yourself with everyone suffering. You can include the group or person in the news that you’ve been worrying about, and say silently, ”May we be free from danger, violence, and hatred. May our actions bring benefit  and do no harm.” Repeat as necessary. 

The post Overwhelmed? Pay Attention appeared first on Tricycle: The Buddhist Review.

Boredom fascinates me. Whenever I feel bored, I wonder, “Why is this such an unpleasant experience?” I mean, I’m not in pain or being tormented or forced to do something I don’t like. I’m simply feeling disinterested in what is currently happening. 

My own life during the pandemic was one monotonous routine. Wake up, make coffee in the kitchen, go back to the bedroom to work, eat lunch in the kitchen, return to the bedroom to work, eat dinner in the kitchen, take a walk around the local park, watch a movie in the living room, go back to the bedroom to sleep. Each day was very predictable, and I felt so much boredom. I wanted something to change, to break the monotony, to add some excitement or anticipation to my experience. In the past year, I heard about so many people struggling with boredom, feeling very “blah” about each day seeming the same. 

In Buddhism, boredom is one of the three poisons. These are mind states that cause suffering. There’s hatred and aversion, not wanting something; then greed and desire, really wanting something; and then there’s boredom and ignorance, and a lack of interest. 

And then I remembered the movie Groundhog Day. Bill Murray plays a New Yorker visiting Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania for the annual Groundhog Day holiday. But when he wakes up the next day, it’s Groundhog Day again—and it’s exactly the same as yesterday. This continues to happen day after day, and he realizes he’s stuck in the same time and space.

Throughout the movie, Bill Murray experiences different stages of reacting to the time loop. At first, he hates it and tries everything to make it end. Then he figures as long as he’s stuck in the same day, he’ll exploit it. After that, he’s so bored, nothing interests him. But finally, after a long, long time—perhaps centuries—he burns through his hatred, greed, and especially his boredom. 

It is the boredom that prevents him from seeing what’s going on, the life around him. He stops trying to change events and instead starts to pay attention to each moment. Each morning he wakes up and responds to that moment—not to the feeling of, “Oh no this day is going to start over again.” He begins to respond with compassion and wisdom to whatever and whomever he encounters, and when he does this, he’s free from the poisons of suffering and the ignorance of separation—and he’s happy. 

At some point in the pandemic, I decided to take inspiration from Bill Murray and look a little closer at what’s really happening in my small and limited space. And when I really paid attention, I could see that each moment is different and new. I began to notice the way the sunlight reflects off the cherry tree outside the front window and its blossoms as they opened and died. I noticed my husband and his request for homemade chocolate chip cookies that day, and I heard the sound of an ambulance on its way to the hospital. I let myself feel the sadness in my heart that would come and go, and the happiness too. 

The antidote for the poison of boredom is simply to pay closer attention. There is always something happening, no matter how subtle. One of the truths of life and phenomena is that everything is always changing. Every moment is impermanent. Nothing just stays the same, it’s all arising and coming together and falling apart. If I pay attention, I can see that even the light in my bedroom moves and changes throughout the day and it’s never exactly the same, and each moment it’s a little bit different. 

The word mindfulness is used so often, but mindfulness meditation is paying attention to what’s happening as it arises. Instead of focusing our attention on one object like the breath, we pay attention to what’s happening as it happens. This practice—like all meditation practice—requires us to be kind to ourselves, though it may be hard at first. We haven’t been trained or accustomed to noticing small and subtle changes—we’re very used to excitement and things grabbing our attention. So it takes a bit of patience and practice to relearn the art of paying attention. And we need to remember to come back. The Pali word for mindfulness is sati, in Sanskrit it’s smriti, and its meaning is “to re-collect, to gather, to come back.” What are we coming back to? Here and now. 

A Mindfulness Practice for When You Feel Bored

Take your time to find a quiet and comfortable spot where you can sit. Stop talking and don’t use your devices. Gently bring your attention to your feet, your seat, your shoulder blades, the back of your head. Give yourself permission to experience this very moment. 

Rest your attention to the rise and fall of your belly as you inhale and exhale. Just lightly place your awareness on your abdomen, being with each breath as your belly expands and contracts. Resist the urge to get up or to look around. Softly keep your attention on your breathing, gently feeling the rise and fall of your breathing. 

Now carefully open your attention to other sensations that are arising. Rest in sound that may be entering your ears, the air on your skin, light entering your eyes, taste in your mouth. Let these sensations come and go without grabbing them. 

If you find you’re getting caught in a plan or memory or idea, that’s okay. Breathe out quietly and slowly, and refocus your attention on your belly. When you’re ready, start again—carefully opening your attention from just your breath to other sensations. You may feel an itch or tension, or see an image in your mind, or hear the neighbors. Try not to work too hard. Let yourself rest in what’s arising. 

As we conclude this meditation, take a moment to appreciate your time and your good heart, say “thank you” to yourself. And the next time you’re feeling bored, stop and pay attention to what’s arising—inside and outside. 

♦

Adapted from Kimberly Brown’s Dharma Talk, “In It Together: Kindness through Crisis”

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Kindness doesn’t mean just being nice or pretending like you care. Cultivating kindness means opening your heart, with patience and attention, to your painful feelings—and to other people’s painful feelings. So when you’re upset with someone else, it’s important to acknowledge it. Pay attention to it. Feel it in your body. You could even say to yourself, “I’m upset right now, I’m struggling.” Sometimes we don’t really know what we’re feeling. I was recently telling my husband about something a family member did and he said, “Kim, you’re angry.” I shouted back at him, “NO, I’M NOT ANGRY!” Then I had to laugh because of course I was angry. The point here is that [while] someone else may truly be frustrating or have done something hurtful, you’re responsible for your feelings. Your feelings are your feelings, and only you can take care of them.

♦

From Tricycle’s May 2021 Dharma Talk series “In It Together: Kindness through Crisis” with Kimberly Brown. 

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There might be some people in your life right now—maybe you live with them, maybe you don’t—who you feel angry or frustrated with. That’s okay. 

In the past year, many of our relationships have been strained. A lot of us are working from home, kids are not in school, and we’re with partners, children, or roommates all the time. This can cause conflict and annoyance. Also, because it’s such a stressful moment—with social distancing and economic uncertainty—many of us simply feel more irritable and impatient, both with ourselves and with each other. 

When you’re upset with someone, you’re suffering from difficult feelings like anger and frustration. And it’s likely that the other person is suffering too. Kindness is a form of skillful means—upekkha in Pali or upaya in Sanskrit—to orient your thoughts, words, and actions to alleviate that suffering and to prevent causing more suffering. 

Kindness doesn’t mean just being nice or pretending like you care. Cultivating kindness means opening your heart, with patience and attention, to your painful feelings—and to other peoples’ painful feelings. So when you’re upset with someone else, it’s important to acknowledge it. Pay attention to it. Feel it in your body. You could even say to yourself, “I’m upset right now, I’m struggling.” 

Other people are who they are. They have their own feelings and views, and it’s not up to us to make them do or say what we want them to. Although someone else may have done something hurtful, you’re responsible for your feelings. Your feelings are your feelings, and only you can take care of them. 

Now, this doesn’t mean we let people harm us. If they’re dangerous or causing hurt, then we might choose to distance ourselves. But if they’re simply frustrating, or won’t listen to us, or we’re angry with them about a disagreement, then we can use our wisdom to understand that what they do and how they do it aren’t up to us. And we can do this by recognizing that just like us, they want to be happy and not suffer. 

All of us, even the worst among us, want to be happy—to have love, a peaceful mind, and contentment—even if we don’t know how to make that happen. So, when we’ve taken care of our feelings, our body, and our mind, then we can extend our kindness to the difficult person too. 

Extending our hearts, being patient, offering kindness—it doesn’t mean to forget or to just ignore how you’ve been treated or what happened with your friend or family member. What it does is help us see our own emotions and reactions clearly. Then we can see the situation clearly, so we have a choice in how we respond. Instead of reacting thoughtlessly, out of habit, we can use our wisdom and choose what we want to do. We might choose to talk to this person, or recognize our part in the problem. Whatever we choose will come from a clear and steady mind. 

Below is a meditation to cultivate kindness, both for yourself and for a person who has been frustrating, annoying, or upsetting to you. This can be practiced each day, maybe ten minutes in the morning or ten minutes before bed. Another time that it’s good to practice this is when you feel tempted to yell or criticize this person or complain about them to someone else. Before you do that, take a pause to do this meditation very briefly so that you don’t react out of anger, but choose how to act out of your clear mind and heart. 

PRACTICE 

Get still, get quiet, and take your time to settle into your seat. Take a few conscious breaths, inhaling and exhaling at your own pace. You can close your eyes, or if you’re sleepy, keep them open with a soft, unfocused gaze. Give yourself permission to relax, to be here at this moment. 

Bring your attention to your heart center, the center of your chest, with the intention to connect with yourself. You make this connection by imagining you’re looking in the mirror or imagining yourself as a child, or just getting a sense of your presence right here, with you. And say this phrase silently to yourself, as though you are giving it as a gift to you: 

May I be peaceful and happy. 

May I be peaceful and happy. 

May I be peaceful and happy.

You can let go of this connection with yourself and this phrase. Bring your attention back to the heart center, where you will connect with a difficult person, a person who is frustrating you. You can imagine them as a child or as you know them; just get a sense that they are here with you. And give them this phrase silently, as a gift of kindness: 

I release you from my demands and expectations of you.

I release you from my demands and expectations of you.

I release you from my demands and expectations of you.

You may get caught in anger or a story about them and swept away from this practice. That’s okay. Just notice what’s happening, and choose to begin again. Reconnect with the person and start over, repeating silently, “I release you from my demands and expectations of you.” 

You can keep this connection with this person, and now include yourself too. Silently give this gift to the two of you: 

May we be peaceful and happy.

May we be peaceful and happy.

May we be peaceful and happy.

♦

Adapted from Kimberly Brown’s Dharma Talk, “In It Together: Kindness through Crisis”

The post How to Cultivate Kindness When Other People Make You Crazy appeared first on Tricycle: The Buddhist Review.

After more than a year of social distancing, many of us continue to struggle in our day-to-day routines. Be it loneliness, grief, impatience, or frustration with family or roommates, Kimberly Brown encourages us to greet all our feelings with a kind and an open-hearted embrace. Such kindness for ourselves and others, Brown explains, helps us develop resilience in the face of challenges.

Kimberly Brown is a meditation teacher, author of Steady, Calm, and Brave: 25 Practices for Resilience and Wisdom in a Crisis (2020), and former executive director of the Interdependence Project in New York City. Her teaching methods integrate depth psychology, compassion training, and traditional Buddhist techniques as a means to help everyone reconnect to their inherent clarity and openness. 

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