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Susan Piver is an ideal guide for anyone suffering from a broken heart.  Spiritually deep, funny and utterly practical, she reveals how this near universal experience can become a gateway to living and loving more fully. Tara Brach, author of Radical Acceptance

Susan Piver’s book makes the mending of a broken heart into a transformative journey, guiding us toward reclaiming our center and entering into the sacred space of forgiveness. Allyson and Alex Grey, Visionary Artists

Straight to the heart and from the heart, Susan Piver is the your best friend and wisest guide. The Wisdom of a Broken Heart is a roadmap for how to deal with all the feelings of loss, disappointment, and betrayal.  Clear, accessible, this book is for everyone. Buy it or suffer the wrath of Josh.  Josh Baran, author of The Tao of Now (and one of my very best friends who told me to definitely take out that last line. But I love it too much.)

I recently did a phone interview with The Writing Spirit. Since I’m just back from teaching a week-long meditation retreat for writers, I thought I’d post it, since these themes are very much on my mind.

JULIE:     I see that you’re about to lead a new meditation retreat for writers in a week. Are you looking forward to it?

SUSAN:    I’m looking forward to it very much. I have tremendous love for this combination, meditation and writing. They seem to go together extremely well.

JULIE:    I agree. And that’s what I’d like to talk to you about today.

So, Susan, what type of meditation practice do you teach?

SUSAN:    I teach a practice called Shamatha, which is a Sanskrit word that means calm abiding or tranquilly abiding. It dates from the time of the Buddha, about 2500 years ago, and is a basic breath awareness meditation; meaning, instead of allowing your thoughts to absorb your attention, you place your attention on your breath instead.

JULIE:    Susan, how does meditation relate to mindfulness?

SUSAN:    Well, meditation, I guess could be thought of as the cultivation of mindfulness. Because mindfulness, it’s come to be associated with many things, but I think all it is, is attention to the present moment, being in the present moment. Meditation is practicing being in the present moment so that when you’re off the cushion, you can more readily employ mindfulness as you wish.

But it’s not something in our very speedy world that we can just suddenly do. Okay, now I’m mindful, or I need to be more mindful. Well, yeah, we all need to be more mindful, but it’s not a matter of will. It’s a matter of practice and experience and a cultivation of mindfulness. And that’s what meditation does.

JULIE:    Is there any aspect of surrender in that? Surrender to the moment? Or is it more cultivation?

SUSAN:    Well, I don’t know. What do you mean by surrender?

JULIE:    When talking about the willfulness and focusing on thought and not being in the moment. To me, being in the moment is a relaxing, is surrendering. So, I’m just wondering how that relates to your view of mindfulness and being in the moment?

SUSAN:    I think you used the key word, which is relaxing…which is, I guess, the same thing as opening. I suppose surrender could mean the same thing. But at the same time, if you’re focused surrendering, you’re not paying attention. You know what I mean?

If you’re engaged in surrendering, you’re not so much engaged in what’s happening. And sometimes it feels great to be engaged in what’s happening, but sometimes it doesn’t feel very good. And you wish you didn’t have to. But, nonetheless, the ability to relax enough to relate with your world is critical. Perhaps you could call it surrendering or relaxing or allowing. I think we probably mean the same things by these words.

Here is the full transcript. Warning: it’s long….

As mentioned in a previous post, in Buddhism, there is something called The Four Immeasurables. They are:

Lovingkindness
Compassion
Sympathetic Joy
Equanimity

In this post, we’ll discuss the second immeasurable, Compassion, and how it helps quell fear.

What is fear? One way to look at it is that fear is an unwillingness to open to reality the way it is. When we’re afraid, we fight the object of our fear, try to ignore it, or become desperate for someone or something to save us. None of these things help. The opposite of fear isn’t boldness, it’s openness. Tolerance. Curiosity. Fearlessness is the ability to remain open and observant, even in the face of very strong feelings or difficult situations. This doesn’t mean you are emotionless. It simply means you are awake. When you’re receptive and wakeful, you’re in the best position to figure out what to do with your fears and their causes.

The Four Immeasurables are four ways of remaining open. The second one, Compassion, has gotten a bad rap. People think it means some kind of saintly ok-ness with everyone, no matter how they act. It conjures an image of some long-suffering person who puts everyone else first. But true compassion is much more skillful than that. I wrote about all this in my book, How Not to Be Afraid of Your Own Life.

Compassion arises when you allow someone else’s pain into your own heart without a personal agenda. This has an automatic affect: You automatically want to free her or him from that suffering, no matter what. We are each capable of this. This is how we’re built.

When I was about seven years old, I was given a kite to fly during our vacation at the beach. My father taught me how to hold it, how to cast it into the wind, and what would make it dip or soar. He held on to the kite with me until I was ready to fly it by myself and then he let go. I ran up and down the shoreline by myself, following the currents of the wind. He could see how overjoyed I was. He was so touched by my delight. Suddenly I lost control of the kite, and it blew away. I ran down the beach trying as hard as I could to catch it as it blew higher and higher. I stopped only when the kite was no longer visible. Many years later, my father still remembers how torn up he was by the look on my face. If he could have flown up in the sky to retrieve the kite for me, he would have.

My father didn’t feel my pain by sitting down and considering it. His compassion just happened, on the spot, beyond theories, values, or beliefs. A child’s pain finds its way to a parent’s heart. The door is simply open.

Lovingkindness cultivates this sense of kinship with all people and leads to the ability to feel this compassion for everyone. When you practice holding your heart open to everyone, from your loved ones to your enemies, you are training to feel for all beings the kind of compassion my father felt for me.

Sometimes, though, it seems impossible to feel compassion. It can be really, really hard when you think about all the people and situations that you find ridiculously infuriating. But acting compassionately doesn’t necessarily mean being sweet and nice, or giving all your stuff away. In Buddhist thought, compassion is synonymous with skillful action, action that is rooted in seeing reality from the largest perspective possible. When you have the proper perspective, you know without thinking what the next right action is. If you see a child with a badly cut finger holding onto a band-aid he can’t figure out how to apply, you patch him up pronto. It’s obvious what needs to be done and doing it is considered compassionate. False compassion, or “idiot compassion” as Chogyam Trungpa called it, would be, in this case, bursting into tears at the child’s predicament or sitting him down for a lecture on self-care. These behaviors clearly lack intelligence and are an“idiotic” version of this sophisticated skill.

Acting compassionately doesn’t mean refusing to admonish people who make you feel terrible or sticking with hopeless situations because you feel sorry for the others involved. Putting an end to abuse or moving on from futile endeavors may be the most compassionate—and intelligent—thing you can do. One good way of testing whether your motivation is rooted in skillful action or stuck in emotional sludge, fear, or co-dependence is to check for your sense of humor. If it’s still there, there’s a good chance that you are grounded, sane, and courageous.

Stephen MItchell & Byron Katie

Byron Katie’s February newsletter is about love…

It’s not what you think…Or is it?

An excerpt:

If you say that you love your husband, what does that have to do with him?

You’re just telling him who you are. You tell the story of how he’s handsome and fascinating and sexy, and you love your story about him. You’re projecting that he’s your story. And then when he doesn’t give you what you want, you may tell the story of how he’s mean, he’s controlling, he’s selfish—and what does that have to do with him? If my husband says, “I adore you,” I think, “Good. I love that he thinks I’m his sweet dream. How happy he must feel about that!”

If he were ever to come to me and say, “The sorriest day of my life was when I married you,” still, what would that have to do with me? He’d just be in a sad dream this time, and I might think, “Oh poor baby, he’s having a nightmare. I hope he wakes up soon.” It’s not personal. How can it have anything to do with me? I love him, and if what he says about me isn’t true in my experience, I would ask him if there’s anything I can do for him. If I can do it, I will, and if it’s not honest for me, I won’t. He is left with his story. No one will ever understand you. Realizing this is freedom. No one will ever understand you—not once, not ever. Even at our most understanding, we can only understand our story of who you are. There’s no understanding here except your own. If you don’t love another person, it hurts, because love is your very self. You can’t make yourself do it.

I loved this post so much. Something to read and contemplate over and over. I particularly loved reading the story, written by Stephen, of their falling in love. And check out Stephen’s new book while you’re at it, The Second Book of the Tao.

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

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.