Book # 28 of 2020: How to Meditate by Pema Chodron

We are entering month five of lock-down in Panama. The first 3 months were spent teaching online. Then, we started summer break from school and have been in the apartment for 3 weeks on "vacation." It looks like we will remain on lock-down for the next month and then resume teaching online from home in August. Travel is barred domestically and internationally. I can only leave the apartment for short shopping windows 3 times a week, and we are supposed to shop within 1km of our residence.

The only way I maintain my sanity under these conditions is to regard this all as a mindfulness retreat. Every morning: yoga, Tai Chi, mindfulness, and then an online class followed by Rosetta Stone practice. Then, it's reading in the bed for a while, reading on the chair for a while, and reading in the hammock for a while.

Pema's book helped me with some simple self-discipline techniques as I try to maintain daily practice. She gives really strong advice about dealing with the emotions during mindful practice. Clear, elegant, charming, and often funny. Recommended!

Book #25 of 2020: Mindfulness in Action by Chogyam Trungpa

I've been struggling to get back to meditating daily since we moved to Panama and became expats two years ago. I gave away my zafu and zabuton before we moved, and never found a replacement spot to do 12 minutes of silent time at a pop. Tried prone meditation or sitting in a chair, but never really got it down as a regular practice. Tai Chi is of course a form of mindfulness, but it isn't the same as doing that cushion work each day, so while I continued the Tai Chi I still ached to sit still and observe my foolish mind spinning ego-justifying tales as restless thoughts and emotions unspooled themselves.

So I broke down and ordered a new DharmaCrafts Classic Zafu and Zabuton Set and had them shipped here, and used this practical little guide to restarting my daily practice. It's not really a book by Chogyam Trungpa--it's been cobbled together from lectures and old manuscripts. But it's nonetheless very useful and contains valuable insights into starting and maintaining a practice. I've probably read two dozen useful little guides to starting and maintaining a regular meditation practice, and this one has the best advice and the most down-to-earth and relatable analogies and examples. Though a Tibetan expat, Tungpa had a gift for finding creative (and often hilarious) ways to communicate complex Buddhist ideas into Western suburbanite language.

Highly recommended.

Turning the Mind Into an Ally

I managed between September of last year and June of this to put together 280 consecutive days of either meditation, Tai Chi, or both. I tracked my data in an app called Insight Timer. It felt great, and helped me through some stressful times. But then the goal of extending my consecutive days streak became the point of meditation, rather than learning to control the mind and turn it to more disciplined pursuits. Once I saw that, I took an immediate break from data chasing and took a couple days off from meditation and Tai Chi. I wanted to re-set my goals for practice.

This short book is the right pick-me-up. I think I read about it in a review by Pema Chodron? It's really clear, unpretentious, easily relatable, clever...and practical. If you're considering starting a meditation practice, this would be a great foundation. If, on the other hand, you are hoping to deepen your practice or restart after stalling. you will find a great guide and mentor in Sakyong Mipham.

I want to add that Insight Timer in no way caused my obsession with mindfulness data--this is a realization I needed to make via work on myself, my motivations, my competitiveness, my manner of approaching goals. Insight Timer is useful in many ways, including reminder chimes, timers with a variety of bells and options, of course the ability to chart and track your data, and a journal/log. You can also link with others and see who meditated at the same time as you around the world (if that's your bag--these options are all optional).

Nesting

For two days I've been watching this little guy flitter from tree well to tree well, testing tiny twigs and dropping them and testing others. When he finds one suitable he flies it up to a tree in front of a vacant house two doors down. Sometimes he pokes at a few and finds them unsatisfactory. Other times he lifts them, fiddles with them, flips them, and does the same. But some are JUST RIGHT.

This is part of the healing process I go through following a school year. As an introvert and an empath of sorts I find dealing with large groups of people emotionally, spiritually, and psychologically draining. And of course teaching in any public school entails the necessity of dealing with large groups of people constantly, daily, and intimately. Teaching in a public school in Baltimore City, with all the trauma the kids experience and their heavy emotional needs, is exponentially more challenging for someone like me.

But sitting on my stoop for a few hours a day in the summer with a pile of books--just being and observing in between bouts of reading--helps me heal.

I had somewhat of a nervous breakdown immediately after the end of this past school year. I tend to be melancholic and have depressive episodes as a matter of routine, but this was different: I completely lost control of my breath and had panic attacks that lasted hours. But sitting, trying to be present, observing without judgment, and acting like a hermit helps.

Any small connection to the natural world--either through daily hikes in Druid Hill Park, or a couple days at the beach, or a walk in the woods just north of Baltimore, or simply watching the birds in my neighborhood go about their business--is a vital means of re-establishing my sanity before the start of the next school year and the inevitable eventual plunge into madness.

One month of summer break is gone--we've reached the halfway point--and I'm starting to feel like a human being again.

I don't know how long I can continue to do this work. But this work must be done.

I envy my little mourning dove friends. He seeks twigs, he tests them, he chooses those suitable. He flies them to the nest. She stays in the tree forming the twigs and weaving them with the others into a suitable shape. Their work does not stress or appear to tax the birds, though they work continuously through the day.

Somewhere is work of a similar nature, suited to me and my nature. Unfortunately late-model neoliberal capitalism does not value this work.