What happens when we fall apart? When we are surrounded by change, the only constant there is, and pain, the only thing we know for certain we will experience in life? We often turn to temporary satisfaction and run away from suffering. After all, this is a basic animal instinct, not even just human, to turn toward pleasure and away from pain. Eventually the pain intensifies, and maybe we even reach a point where we have no place left to turn, nowhere to hide, no place to goā¦ except inward.
Not all of us will take the challenge. After all, it feels deeply counterintuitive. But if we do, we will be invited to face and examine everything that makes up the person we think we are, including our resistance to everything we think we are not. Developing awareness in this way is one of the hardest things we will ever do, and it takes a lifetime. We will get distracted, we will resist, we will cling, we will lose touch with the essence of our being and confuse it with our ego. And again and again, we will notice this too, and come back. In this practice, we will be presented with the choice to stay open. Open to the flow of life, open to ourselves, open to discomfort. And every time we do this, we touch freedom. This doesnāt mean that we will be fearless. But if we practice staying open even to fear itself, then we can be present in the moment and open to whatever comes next. Every moment that arises ends, and another comes, much like our breath. We only breathe the same breath once, and then itās gone. An exhale will follow every inhale. Mimicking the cycle of life, we take our first breath when we are born, and exhale one final breath when we die. And while we live, all we have is this breath, right here in this very moment. We might as well be mindful of it. Right now, as you read these words, I invite you to notice your inhale as it moves through your body, noticing even the space between the inhale and exhale, and then exhale slowly and fully, and bring your attention to the space after you exhale and before your next inhale.
When we bring our awareness to each moment and practice remaining open to it, we soften, and we let go. This is how we learn to live, and how we prepare to die. Each moment is like a wave, and as it reaches the shore, it touches our awareness. In Buddhist psychology, you might argue that this is awakening. Not a big āta-daā moment we reach after a life of struggle and hard work, but every time we bring our full awareness to this moment and open to it. When we open to discomfort, it can serve as preparation for death, because we drop our resistance and awareness carries us into the next moment, the next breath. If we close to it, we harden, and suffering arises. A teacher once told me that the formula for suffering is pain plus resistance.
Every joy and every pain can teach us how to live and how to die. And of course, I would highly recommend seeking the guidance of a therapist when awareness feels like too much, and instead of just discomfort, we are greeted by profound pain, grief, or trauma at the door.
Mindfulness also needs to be trauma sensitive.
I will leave you with a poem from Rumi that I have framed on my wall and has served as a reminder of this noble practice. It is called āThe Guest Houseā:
This being human is a guest house. Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness, Some momentary awareness comes As an unexpected visitor.
Ā Welcome and entertain them all! Even if they are a crowd of sorrows, Who violently sweep your house Empty of its furniture, Still, treat each guest honorably. He may be clearing you out For some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice Meet them at the door laughing, And invite them in.
Ā Be grateful for whoever comes, Because each has been sent As a guide from beyond. –Rumi