Posts from — January 2009

Don’t ask me why, but I was asked to spend an hour in a coffee shop and write something that made you feel that you were there with me, drinking an espresso. For some reason, it came to me to write it in a noir style…

Paris. It’s never Springtime in Paris. No matter what the songbooks tell you, it’s always rain, straight, with a rain chaser. Not exactly a place to warm the cockles of your heart, or the cockles of anything for that matter.

The first time I walked into Café Les Deux Magots on Boulevard Saint-Germain, I wasn’t sure whether to order a hot cup of joe or an exterminator. But I was on the run and it was cold outside baby, as cold as the sound of the backdoor slamming the morning after, so without looking at the menu or the garcon, I ordered a café, s’il vous plait, make it noir, and make it snappy.

I loosened my coat, brushed the rain from my shoulders, and took a look around. A couple of teenagers necking in the corner. Old men reading old newspapers. Some mutton dressed as lamb standing at the bar, looking hopeful. The hiss and moisture of espresso being made in the city of a thousand espressos. As I waited, I knew there was only one thing I had to avoid, although to do so was as impossible as it was for rice to avoid white: the letter in my pocket, the one I knew contained the big kiss-off.

I had my hand on the corner of the letter when le garcon delivered my drink. It came in a heavy porcelain demi-tasse cup in a tiny saucer with burgundy red piping around the rim. The lip of the cup was as thick as a plate. With one hand in my pocket still gripping the edge of the letter, I lifted the cup to my mouth with the other and realized that if dark had a smell, this would be it. If dark had a taste, this would be it: heavy, hot, bitter, strangely beautiful, and palatable only in the smallest amounts. This espresso had gravitas and bore as much resemblance to Starbucks as Joe Biden did to Sarah Palin in the Vice Presidential debate. I drank it down and signaled to garcon that I needed another one, this time make it a double.

I let the letter drop back into my pocket. I realized that no matter what it said, this pain was mine to bear and I’d better get used to the cold. At a time like this, in a place like this, there was only one thing on the menu: noir. Café noir.

Rainer Maria Rilke

In my new book, The Wisdom of a Broken Heart, there is a chapter called “It is a Dark Night.” I talk about those artists, poets, and thinkers who have an affinity for darkness–not morbidity or pessimism, but for sadness, despair, and confusion. They have not insisted on the unrelenting positivity which deadens the soul, but have allowed darkness to transform them. When your heart is broken (for whatever reason) these are the artists who bring solace. I am so grateful to them. Here is my list of patron saints of the dark. Who would you add?

Billie Holiday
Bob Dylan
Bruce Springsteen
Chögyam Trungpa
Dante
Emily Dickinson
Ingmar Bergman
Isak Dinesen
John Donne
Leonard Cohen
Machig Labdron
Milarepa
Muddy Waters
Pema Chodron
Persephone
Rabindranath Tagore
Rainer Maria Rilke
St. John of the Cross
Thomas Moore
Willie Nelson

An example of beautifully dark writing:

But everything that once perhaps will be possible to many, the solitary man can already prepare for and build now with his hands, which go less astray. Therefore, dear Sir, love your solitude and bear the pain which it has caused you with fair-sounding lament. For those that are near you are far, you say, and this shews that distance begins to grow round you. And when your nearness is far, then your distance is already among the stars and very great; be glad of your growing, into which you can take no one else with you, and be good to those that remain behind, and be self-possessed and quiet with them and do not torment them with your doubts and do not frighten them with your confidence or joy, which they could not comprehend. Seek some unpretending and honest communion with them, which you are under no necessity to alter when you yourself become more and more different; love life in a strange guise in them, and make allowance for those ageing people who fear the solitude in which you trust.

--Rainer Maria Rilke

In Latvian my name is Suzena Paivere.

Good luck all you Latvian lovers!

I’ve been a meditation instructor for about two years now. During that time, I’ve noticed some cruel hoaxes being perpetrated on would-be meditators, making meditation seem much more complicated than it really is. Although it’s not easy, it is actually a simple technique. (Click here for instruction.) It’s so simple that it’s easy to miss its profundity.

Here are the 5 most common misconceptions I hear:

1.    Meditation means you have to stop thinking.
This is simply not possible. Your mind cannot stop producing thoughts; that is what it does. Attempting to stop thinking would be like opening your eyes and telling them not to see.  Quite frustrating, not to mention unachievable.

Instead, meditation is about making a different relationship to your thoughts. Rather than becoming embroiled in them, allowing the bad ones to make you feel bad and the good ones to make you feel good, you step back, notice them as they flow by, and feel the accompanying feelings (or lack thereof) fully. It doesn’t matter whether it’s a trickle or torrential. Just as you can observe a gentle drizzle or a wild hurricane from a distance, so you can also observe your thoughts and emotions.

2.    The object of meditation is to create peace of mind and I can’t meditate because I just can’t calm my mind down.
Not so. Sometimes when you sit, your mind becomes peaceful and that’s great. Other times however, you just sit there the whole time working with a speedy jumble of thoughts that never stop coming. Either one is okay. The only thing that makes meditation hard is when you try to fight what your mind is doing. If you allow it, if you allow the peace, allow the turmoil, allow the boredom, your mind is much more likely to settle down than if you try to tell it how to act. And even if it doesn’t, the simple effort to work with your mind rather than allow it to run away with you creates positive effects.

One of the great things about meditation is you don’t have to pretend to be a blissed out calm person. You can be as frantic, silly, brilliant, equanimous and/or confused as you actually are.

3.    If I’m not having special experiences (profound emotional catharses, energy up the spine, glimpses into the nature of reality, levitation to another planet), there’s something wrong with the meditation practice and/or I’m just not doing it right.
There is nothing more ordinary than the practice of sitting meditation. I mean, you’re sitting there. You’re breathing. You’re observing your mind as it is, as it would be even if you weren’t meditating. Rather than seeking to cultivate experiences (or just hoping some would happen to counteract the boredom), the practice is to hang out with yourself just as you are. Unconditionally. It is such a relief to take a break from the search for entertainment and distraction. Actually, when you start to get bored, that’s probably the best indicator that the practice is really starting to become beneficial.

4.    I find meditation too hard, so instead I do walking/running/listening to music/yoga as my meditation practice.
Although many activities can have a pacifying affect on your nervous system such as taking a walk or listening to Bach’s Unaccompanied Cello Suites, these are not meditation. They are meditative. Any endeavor that unifies body and mind such as swimming, doing yoga, knitting—anything you do that, if you take your mind off of it, you mess it up—is profoundly soothing. We love these things. However, as mentioned, the idea behind meditation isn’t to calm down. It’s to wake up. Turn around. Look yourself right in the eye and discover who you really are.

5.    I’ve learned various kinds of meditation and I like parts of them all so I’ve combined those parts into my own unique practice.
Although I completely understand why someone would do this, it’s really not a good idea. Buddhist meditation practices are more than 2500 years old. They’ve been tested and honed over time. Millions and millions of people have used them well, screwed them up, attained realization, and confused the hell out of themselves. We can learn from them and trust that the instructions have been honed by their experiences over centuries and we don’t need to reinvent the wheel.

The traditional practices are unimpeachable in their elegance, precision, and profundity. We usually try to skip out once the practice becomes difficult and think, well this particular practice isn’t for me, I’d better try another one. And you should try different practices to see which one suits you. But at some point you’ve got to stop trying them out and pick one. Stick with it. Stay. Let it unfold. Let it guide you instead of the other way around.

If you follow one piece of advice from this whole post, this would be the most important one.

The best piece of art ever. By Alex Grey.

Don’t steal it!! Get if from the artist. I did. It’s the. best. piece. of. art. ever. Plus it supports the Grey’s dreams just as this man supports mine…

“Those who have been fearless in their search and fearless in their proclamation belong to the lineage of master warriors, whatever their religion, philosophy, or creed. What distinguishes such leaders of humanity and guardians of human wisdom is their fearless expression of gentleness and genuineness — on behalf of all sentient beings. We should venerate their example and acknowledge the path that they have laid for us. They are the fathers and mothers of Shambhala, who make it possible, in the midst of this degraded age, to contemplate enlightened society.”

–Chogyam Trungpa

OCEAN OF DHARMA: The Everyday Wisdom of Chogyam Trungpa, #264. Originally from “The Shambhala Lineage,” in SHAMBHALA: THE SACRED PATH OF THE WARRIOR, page 211.

I repeat: The best piece of art ever. By Alex Grey. $80 for signed poster. $200 for signed print on canvas. Check it out.

Courtesy of the talented Rod Meade Sperry at The Worst Horse.

Someone e-mailed me this question yesterday.

Q: Susan, I have trouble committing myself to the cushion… please address this.

A: We all have difficulty with this. I totally understand. When you sit on the cushion, you’re agreeing to sit down with the unknown. Sometimes this feels terrifying, sometimes exciting but, mostly, it’s just kind of ordinary–and it’s this ordinariness that might make us think “nothing is happening” or “I must be doing this wrong.” And then we give up. However, it’s actually considered a good sign when the practice becomes a bit boring–you’ve stopped trying to entertain yourself. So hang in there with all the ups and downs–and flatness.

Buddhists have written a lot on overcoming the obstacles to a meditation practice, because people have been encountering these obstacles for like 2500 years. (I write about them in detail in my book.) The traditional obstacles are:

Laziness (of which there are 3 kinds: regular; becoming disheartened; being too busy)

Forgetting the Instructions (spacing them out, basically)

Laxity/Elation (being too sleepy and dull or getting carried away by some exciting experience while meditating—both are distractions).

Some of the suggestions for overcoming these obstacles include:

1. Trust. At some point, you had an insight that meditation was valuable. That’s what made you decide to try it out. You can trust that insight. Recall it to yourself before you practice.

2. Take it slow. Don’t commit to a life-long meditation practice and then beat yourself up when you screw up on day 3. Don’t do that. The only thing worse than not practicing is beating yourself up for not practicing. So instead of diving in head first, commit to a week-long meditation practice. Say to yourself, “I’m just going to sit for 10 minutes a day for one week.” (Or 20, or 30, or 5, or whatever you choose.) “At the end of that time, I’m going to reconsider.” Then you can do anything you want. You can commit to another week. Or month. Don’t decide about the next phase until you complete the current one. And so on. Just make the commitment doable.

3. Delineate. Before you sit down to practice, tell yourself: “Now I’m going to meditate. Period. Everything else can wait, nothing is going to be more important to me for the next ten minutes. Not e-mail, not the phone, not my responsibilities, nothing. Period.” (Or five, or twenty, or whatever you decide).

4. Create critical mass. If you practice for a few minutes every day, this is way better than a lot of minutes on a few days. Routine is the key. Continuity is more important than duration. Then at some point your practice reaches the kind of critical mass that brushing your teeth has. It’s just something you do and it feels icky if you don’t do it.

5. Review. Before you sit, review the instructions. It’s so easy to forget them. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve sat down to meditate and it took me 10 minutes to remember, oh yeah, I’m supposed to be focused on my breath. If you’re doing Shamatha (The Practice of Tranquility) as I recommend in my book, read over the points of posture, instructions on breath, etc. before you practice. Whatever your practice, review the key points. Just a quick review really helps.

6. Keep coming back. If you have a fabulous experience or an awful one on the cushion, it’s all the same. Don’t let either convince you that you’re doing it right or wrong. Just keep coming back. As long as you’re coming back—to your breath, to  your cushion—you’re doing it right.

7. Find community. It is crazy helpful to practice with others. You can go to a Shambhala Center (which is the lineage I practice in) if your town has one, or a Zen center, or a Vipassana center. These are all good. Just make sure that you choose a lineage that is, say, older than two thousand years. We want something trustworthy and time-tested! Most meditation centers have public sitting where you can get some instruction or just sit with others. It’s enormously supportive and inspiring to be with others who are working with their minds as you endeavor to. And of course, you’re always, always welcome to join me on one of my retreats. My website has the schedule.

I offer audio meditation instruction here. E-mail me with any questions. Seriously.

Other practitioners: What are your suggestions? What helps you to overcome obstacles?

Last, remember that If you take your seat, rouse the intention and aspiration to meditate, the practice will do the rest. All you have to do is walk through the gate.

Thanks so much for joining my session this morning, “Conquering Fear, Gaining Peace.” I truly hope it was helpful and you’re feeling gentle (toward yourself), taking delight (in others), and feeling confident (about life).

To stay in touch, please sign up for my newsletter which goes out about once a month and includes tips, info, and articles about meditation, courage, creativity, loving kindness, all that good stuff.

I really enjoyed the session myself. Here’s what it looks like where I was sitting when we spoke. Snowstorm outside. Cozy inside.

Here are some of the resources and exercises we discussed today:

Meditation Instruction
Click here for the following guided audio practices:

The Practice of Tranquility (10 minutes)
The Practice of Tranquility (20 minutes)

Loving kindness Meditation (10 minutes)
Loving kindness Meditation (25 minutes)

An Article I Wrote About Fear

Check out my book

A Special Offer for Virtual Retreat Participants!

I’d like to offer you a three-session package of one-to-one phone coaching to help you learn meditation
and integrate the principles of gentleness, delight, and confidence into your daily life. This package is good for people who are:

•    Battling fear & anxiety
•    Want to feel joy!
•    Want to free their creativity
•    Wish to develop a more loving relationship to themselves
•    Wish to develop more loving relationships with others
•    Are going through a transition

This package includes three 50-minute phone coaching sessions, one a week for three weeks. It also includes a 30-minute follow up one month later, plus light e-mail exchange as needed during the entire period.

Normally $600, I’d like to offer it to Virtual Retreat participants for $450.

E-mail me for more info.

The On-the-Spot Techniques We Discussed Today

When you notice fear arising…

When you encounter someone angry…

Loving kindness in the world…

Our backyard right now…the perfect day for a retreat…

I think we all know the answer to that now…

(skip first 1:05)

Please join me for a 45-minute teleconference on meditation, spirituality, and courage on Sunday, January 18th 11A Eastern/8am Pacific and learn about fearlessness during scary times. I’d love to meet you and even though it sounds super-heavy, it’s actually fun to talk about this stuff.

Look at me, I’m smiling! And it’s my job to think about these things all day long.

If you can’t make it, recordings will be available after the call.

www.comfortretreats.com/susan