Monthly Blog Series 2025
I really do not know. But it feels like good advice to lead with your heart. You can also lead with your feet and hands and trust they will lead you where your heart wants to go. The Sufi poet Rumi wrote, ”between heart and heart, there is a window.” That's the heart space where we can see each other and hear each other without armour and without weapons. And there is always something to be grateful for. Always. I learn that lesson more fully each time I meet another one of life’s curves like a whirling dervish.
My heart is like a singing bird.
My post today is about gratitude and as I wrote it, a really spectacular photograph came to mind. One that evoked gratitude in me. It was passed around social media feeds in 2021 and it likely will resurface to get passed around again because it resonates with some deep truth. (This is why we still watch shakespearean plays and listen to Mozart.) It’s an image of a bird singing in the morning light on a cool day. Simple. Commonplace. But the temperature, the light, and the timing of the photographer coalesced to capture the brief cloud that the singing bird’s warm breath made in the cold air. You might have seen it! And doesn’t it evoke a shock of realization: a bird’s breath fogs in the air the same way mine and yours does when it’s cold.
Feeling the Way Forward
Walking on Earth is a miracle. Each mindful step reveals the Dharmakay. —Thich Nhat Hanh
To be entangled in all that mind activity makes the experience very heavy and sharp. It is difficult, but It doesn’t help to be angrily asking “Why me? Why this? This is my life?” Notice the feeling tone: “this is unpleasant.” And it can stop there. There are many different practices to stop the mind from spinning out. Looking for those five aggregates is one that works for me because the Buddhist teachings make sense to me, have shown me that even when it feels like a crucible, it may very well be an opportunity for transformation, for listening to instead of shouting at Life. For evoking the image of Thay walking, present in each step.
That without substance…
I just spent five days meditating at home as part of a zoom retreat. The teacher would end every session by sending love and kindness. And as much as I talk about love, I had to acknowledge that in those moments I wasn't feeling it. What was coming up instead was grief. (You never know what's going to come up when you sit down and be quiet and look at your mind for days on end.) It seems I had been ignoring a growing sadness about not spending time outdoors and in physical activity the way I used to. Simply by acknowledging this grief changed it, released it, and reconnected my heart.