During this time of world pandemic and important protests about unrelenting racial injustice, my bandwidth is reduced. Since I’m doing so much internal work. I can only take in limited media. Likewise, I can only sustain creative output in focused ways. Facebook is where I’m sharing the most: words, images, insights. I understand why some of you avoid social media (for the very reasons I mention above). I want my website and blog to be a refuge for anyone who enters. So, I’m taking my content from FB and posting it here (in two parts). This is such a raw, tender, turbulent, uncertain, yet wakeful time in our world. Take very good care of your beautiful, brave, precious selves.
June 8
In “ordinary” life, I often teach about the pause—just a 3-breath pause. This creates space for intentional choices, words, and actions (or non-actions). During a world pandemic and important protests about racial injustice, the pause is even more powerful. Pause to listen. Pause to be aware of our bodies, hearts, and minds. Pause to put ourselves in another’s shoes. Pause to notice our inner judgments. Pause to be kind. Pause to just breathe and be.
The wild abundance in my backyard garden calls to me each evening. It invites me to pause. Sometimes I smile, sometimes I cry. Both of these open my heart.
June 9
I’m leaning into the complicated, raw, heartbreaking ways, as a white American, I’m enmeshed with the status quo. A status quo that allowed George Floyd and thousands of others to die. Five years ago, I began volunteering in prison, teaching meditation and mindfulness. It’s the most meaningful work I’ve done. I’m inspired by countless stories from prisoners, raised in hell realms (violence, abuse, prejudice, drugs, neglect), who look inward, grow, and transform. They've changed my life for the better.
Just this morning, I saw how my work and my way of being has separated me (in my mind) from racism. Racism is over there (not within me—look what I’m doing!), but if I dig deeper, I’m part of it, not separate from it. As a white person, I’m part of the privileged majority. I’m compassionate, understanding, and kind, yet there’s another step: I must admit I’m part of this. It’s not “those people over there,” it’s me. I need to look inward: See my privilege, feel the pain, listen and learn, and move forward with courage and intention.
Such turbulent times invite us to wake up. First the pandemic (still, the pandemic), then a brutally honest view into unrelenting racial injustice (for hundreds of years). I’m trying to lean in with my whole—raw, tender, exposed—heart.
If you're leaning in, too, please reach out to me. Send me a message or post in the comments. Perhaps we can do this vital, difficult, expansive work together.
June 11
Meditation—like life—is an honest yet gentle practice. We want to be honest: look inward, be real, not ignore important truths. Yet we want to be gentle: not use meditation as another self-improvement, striving project—we must meet ourselves with kindness.
Our work around white privilege, institutional (and personal) racism, and social change is a place where we can fatigue or burn out. Yet we must remain awake. Action and change are needed, but it’s okay to take a break, savor beautiful moments, back away when overwhelmed. A sustainable path is how we move forward with intention and effort—for the rest of our lives. This isn’t a sprint. This isn’t a problem to quickly fix. It’s a new way of being, thinking, speaking, listening, living, and loving.
Honest and gentle. Persistent and patient. Awake and compassionate.
