Tag Archives: depression

October, Community

Intention
It struck me in the last month or so that the recurring themes in my Living Practice center around a deep desire for intimacy, for connection, and to offer something valuable to the world. That recognition was quickly followed by the cringe-inducing irony that I have attempted to find and foster these things All. By. My. Self. Perhaps my growing dissatisfaction and dwindling interest in this project stems from the fact that it’s all about me. I am so, incredibly, and completely sick of myself. What began as an earnest investigation of morality, of my value system, feels increasingly like precious, pointless narcissism. Nothing I cultivate within myself will actually make me a better person, or feel more connected to the world around me, if I continue to stay deliberately separate from it.

I thought that this work would give me a new purpose, or give me the confidence and the courage to go into the world and discover one, but I was wrong. I have no perspective. I will never be “ready”. If anything, the harder I work at it, the more disgusted I become, and the more discouraged I feel.

I wanted to create an authentic identity to offer to the world, rather than accepting the one that was projected on me by the perception of others. Breathing life into the boundaries of the world’s collective hallucination of me left me exhausted, with no energy left to develop anything that was authentic to my own desire. Eventually, I collapsed under the weight of my own vapidness. This project was an earnest and hopeful attempt at reconstruction, but I have failed to sustain any consistent, cohesive sense of self, and not having a reliable psychological construct of “me” makes it difficult to operate in the world. It makes is hard to care about anything. It makes it hard to stay up late and work. It makes it hard to carry meaning in my heart, or be accountable to anyone. Since I started watching the sense streams that get synthesized into an experience, my experience, I haven’t been able to keep them bound together. My sense of self is so random, so fluid and rapidly changing that it’s functionally absent; it feels deeply unreliable for accomplishing even the simplest tasks. I can’t do this by myself. Uncle. Having collapsed once from the effort of fulfilling personas I never consciously chose, I now find myself staggering under the labor of invention.

Relationships are the structures that house our communion. In rejecting so much of the world, I cut loose a lot of bullshit, but also a lot of help. I grossly underestimated how difficult it is to live in the absence of a defined role that emerges before me, as I live and work among people who have expectations of me. I did not know how little I have to offer myself, and how hard it would be to be reliable companion to my constantly emerging experience. My sphere of influence has grown very small – I never anticipated that my disappointments would continue all the same, or amplify.

October Activities

  • Say yes to social engagement. Make plans, go to parties, cook meals for others, seek opportunities to be with others.
  • Attend to the people around me with kindness and curiosity. Show up and listen fully.
  • Do metta practice five times a week. Connect with and cultivate my intention to be present and be kind. Pray daily, or as often as needed.

Expectations
I expect to fail. I always do. I wish I liked failing better, but I haven’t figured out how to shake the false dichotomy of success and failure. I expect that I will also have some success living into the humblest and noblest edges of my capacity, and those actions will reside long enough in the memory of someone else, that I will bump into a better version of myself again. This is the beauty and the gift of community.

What do I Value?
I value being loved. I value being recognized. I value being seen, when I can not see myself, and gently roused to action. I value being part of something larger than myself and being called to serve my part. I value being appreciated for my work.

What do I Want?
I want to be nourished. I want a cohesive identity that will give me purpose and stability. I want to stop leaking and evaporating. It is not enough to be a conduit for life, that energy must be directed at something that reflects it back at me. I want to flourish, and have a reason for doing so.

Where is the Resistance?
It’s hard to act differently than I feel. It feels dishonest to me. I’m confused about how to honor and allow my experience without becoming trapped in it, how to reorient to a perspective where I don’t feel as though I’m choosing between honesty and humility. I have a hard time not resenting a reality that doesn’t match my desire. Even when I see the resistance, or think I do, acceptance remains elusive.

What am I Willing to do?
I am willing to do my best. I am willing to keep trying. I am willing to do the legwork and the planning that goes into meeting my commitments to other people. I am willing to roll with how things unfold, and remember that my job this month is to be present and pleasant.

What is Gained and Lost?

Gained

Security – when you show up in the world, consistently, you leave a residue of expectation that helps you orient to the same behavior when you re-encounter it. You don’t have to perpetually remember to meet your own expectations – people carry them and hold them out for you to step in to.

Recognition – it’s nice to be thanked. It’s really nice to be thanked warmly, and sincerely, without any prompting. It’s nice to be smiled at.

Lost

Freedom – I had this notion that by staying undefined, new possibilities would open up, that the right thing would come to me, because I would not have shut it out. It’s hard to let go of this idea, it’s so romantic. But I’m not free. I remain a slave to myself, and I’m a terrible master. I’m not ready for this kind of freedom. I’m wasting it, I’m withering in it. It’s time to concede what I haven’t earned anyway, and instead allow it to be given to me. Grace never stops shocking me in its gentleness.

September, Discipline

Light and dark swirl.

Take refuge, my sweetness. I am here. I love you. I am full of tenderness for your pain. I will gladly cup your weak and panting doubt, and gaze upon it while it rests. I will be your strength and your voice. I will protect you. I will love you, no matter what. It is okay to let go. It is okay to let go of the brutalizing narrative that beats you hard enough for you to feel your edges. You’re choosing a merciless boundary because you fear that if you don’t, you will disappear entirely.

You will never disappear, because I am your center. I am your center and your light. I am the life in your breath, and the seam your feet and the floor conspire to make a thousand times a day, to remind you that it is safe, and you belong here. Safety is steady, gentle work, stitched together again and again. I am the empty edges, by which you feel at home in your body, and open in your heart.

Please, take refuge in me. I am the love of discipline, for which you are searching. Consider trying a different test. Consider what might happen if you are wrong. Rest, and ask your question. Stay, and listen.

The love that drives us to serve is the fruit of surrender. I love you. I surrender to you every day. I am here. My sweetness, please, take refuge in me. Let me hold you for a while. Let me touch you lightly and whisper to you. Let me show you the strength of stillness, and what love grows there. Let me show you that it is yours.

July, Perspecitve

Intention
I am halfway through my year-long project of Living Practice, and it feels like a good time to work on Perspective. Perspective is among the more rational values I value, one that embraces analysis, detachment and reasoning. It also requires listening and empathy in order to genuinely understand a perspective that is not instinctively my own.

One unexpected consequence of this project is how isolated I feel. I had (perhaps too romantic) a notion that as I deepened, clarified, and embraced my value system, that love and beauty would open up around me. That a world that didn’t make much sense to me would come into focus, and I would feel more peaceful, more eager to engage with confidence and affection. But what I feel is weird, different and confused. I feel like the only person on earth (which I am surely not) who wants to pursue such a task and share my experience about it. I would be thrilled, in fact I deeply want, for this endeavor to be valuable to someone other than myself, but I can not seem to find an audience, and that’s amplified my loneliness.

I don’t want to quit, nor do I want the remaining months to feel like a heartless march to completion. I’m having a hard time articulating why I’m doing this, it seems to have no purpose beyond its own completion. Perhaps that is enough, but I am uncomfortable being resolute without surety of purpose (it feels delusional), and I have grown quite tired of being uncomfortable. Doubt is of course an identity in its own right, but not one that seems to be offering me much. In cultivating Perspective, I hope to find what I currently cannot see, and to relax into a broader truth than the one I am creating.

July Activities

  • Suspend my own perspective in formal, Don’t Know practice, at least three times a week.
  • Solicit perspective from others.
  • Do small things differently. Record these tasks and any observations in my journal.

Expectations
I expect to have some moments of delight, of genuine novelty, when something new is revealed to me. I expect to be disappointed that everyone else is not a hidden sage, who will graciously make sense of everything for me.

What do I Value?
I value seeking and finding the common ground of the human experience. I value the ability to see something purposeful in positions I disagree with. I value acting in a way that shows I both know and cherish the better aspects of my nature, and wish to meet yours. I value the ability to not take myself too seriously, not take things too personally, while maintaining an unshakable sense of self worth.

What do I Want?
I want relief. I want rejuvenation. I want to feel energized and curious. I want to have some fun. I want help making sense of what I’m doing, and I want validation that it’s a worthwhile and noble task. I want to be seen clearly and be shown something new. I want to reconnect with the joy and lightness of experimentation. I want to stop treating my practice like the dour blanket of self-loathing sanctimony that it’s starting to feel like.

Where is the Resistance?
There is resistance to the whole exercise. I am late in writing up this piece. I seriously considered taking the month off from my practice structure, with the rationalization that not practicing would offer a legitimate alternative perspective to practicing. I’m also in the vexing resistance sandwich of simultaneously believing that some outside Perspective will come to my salvation, and that no one can possibly understand my experience well enough to offer something meaningful. I understand this is ridiculous, and am flummoxed on how I might begin to unwind it. I am also aware of the human tendency to interpret information in a way that reinforces what we already believe, so I will surely have some deeply innate psychological resistance to truly seeing things differently, and I’m not sure how much of that I actually have the ability to overcome.

What am I Willing to Do?
I am willing to be brave and ask other people for their perspective. I am willing to tolerate rejection. I am willing to listen. I am willing to be disappointed and not let that snowball into discouragement. I am willing to not take a conflict with my values and beliefs personally.

What is Gained and Lost?

Gained
Well, hopefully, perspective. I hope to feel less important and more relevant.

Lost
My sense of specialness. It’s possible that my persistent experience of loneliness, of feeling different and disconnected, is a dysfunctional manifestation of my desire to be unique – to have a sacred purpose in the world that I alone can fulfill, in fact have a duty to fulfill as a spiritual being. There is an element of this desire that feels like an irreducible and inextricable part of my psyche – to irradiate it would be impossible and to attempt to do so would be profane. It is this desire that opens my heart and tightens my throat, that draws out tears that christen anew my faith in a purpose I don’t know. I never doubt the beauty and correctness of this desire, but everything that follows is a restless hunt through through the dusky borderland. By insisting on my separateness, by feeling it as real and wrenching isolation, even in the midst of others, I make my mark as special. And in failing to find a population to serve with grace and confidence, I ensure that I remain pristine. I don’t know how to accept being common, and simultaneously believe that I have something to offer. I am horrified by the elitism and prejudice in that mindset, which is perhaps why I choose – prefer – to suffer quietly and alone, than to reconcile an attitude that revolts me.

The Ordinary Nature of Kindness

June’s Kindness practice was surprisingly difficult. I picked Kindness, in part, because I expected it to be easy and enjoyable, like Love or Gratitude. I’ve hit a wall in my practice – I am feeling burned out and uninspired, and supremely confused. The more I practice the smaller and less significant I feel. The stiller I become and the less I do, the more the small space around me intensifies. I was looking for a value that I could cruise on for a month, but alas, Kindness wasn’t it.

I imagined kindness to have a warm glow about it – that there would be a pleasurable, rosy, post-giving aftermath. I thought the more I did it, the easier it would get, that I would stumble into some sort of generative love loop that would make everything around me feel nicer. But for me, at least this month, more than anything, I found it to be a lot of work.

My acts of kindness were small and ordinary. I often had trouble differentiating them from basic responsibility. Things like holding doors for strangers, fixing the tumbled-over lawn decoration of the neighbor, bringing flowers to a grieving friend, creating time for my husband to relax, and remaining patient and compassionate with my kids when I wanted to storm out of the room, all feel like part of being a responsible citizen, neighbor, friend, spouse and parent. The things that felt most special to me, were performed for their own sake, with no possible expectation of acknowledgment: tracking down the buzzing of a trapped bee and opening the window to release it; burying a bird we hit with our car, and showing my children the importance of honoring the sanctity of life.

Some gestures were small and easy, some required planning and sacrificing my limited free time. Some felt really good, and some were a total struggle, that I didn’t enjoy at all, at least while they were happening. Especially with my children, I realized that sometimes the kindest thing I can do – when they are needy, and I am exhausted – is to simply not make the situation worse. Remaining calm, objective and pleasant when I’m angry and tired takes a lot of effort. I always thought of kindness as something that is overtly generous, but I was surprised how often it ended up being an act of non-deterioration.

June was a difficult mood month – nights of dark dreams, and lots of daytime restlessness, anger, and sadness. It’s hard to know if that pervasive tone contributed to Kindness being difficult, or if it was partially generated by my practice. I struggled to articulate what counted as a distinct act of kindness and why. Selflessness – the deliberate choice to make my experience secondary, without denying it – became the criteria I used most, and I did not like how much I disliked self-subjugation. A surprising amount of the time there was a small (or large) inner protest about putting someone else first. It was disheartening to see how hard I had to work at being consciously nice. I expected this resistance – this fear that if goodness is not effortless it is not genuine, or worse, not innately present – but I had no idea how hard it would be to witness and accept this on a regular basis. To be sure, being kind was much easier when I was well-rested, and unrushed.

There were no major insights that came out of my practice this month, nothing that clicked, no sacred moments where I felt confident that I was acting in purposeful alignment. In practice, Kindness seemed nearly indistinguishable from good manners and responsibility. Kindness felt extraordinarily pedestrian.

April, Self-Compassion

Intention
This month I’m cultivating the value of self-compassion and this choice comes more from resignation than overt motivation. I have been avoiding this practice because it is so hard for me, but I also believe that this particular form of acceptance is the genomic structure for all other love that a person offers to the world. I’m dreading doing this, but I also can’t quite patch together a convincing veil of denial as to its importance. So here I sit, sad, mad, and blank, forcing myself to keep typing and see what happens.

Self-compassion is not a strength of mine, but I experience it as the acceptance that precedes the ability to love oneself, and the willingness to act on one’s own behalf, out of love. It is the mechanism that allows us to erode the barriers within ourselves so that we stop perceiving them as barriers to relationship with others. And from this work I hope, eventually, to live mostly in a state where I respect how little I know, and have an unshakable faith that my existence is a small and precious contribution to the great mystery of how the world unfolds.

I found myself unsure how to approach this month’s practice. So I’m going back to basics on the premise that self-care is the foundation of self-love. Half of my tasks are geared towards basic physical health – stabilizing and raising my energetic baseline is essential to my well-being. All but one of the tasks are concrete and structurable. I feel like I’m a long way from an automatic, healthy emotional response towards myself, but I am capable of discrete tasks to nurture myself.

Oddly, detachment from my sense of self strikes me as an important part of learning self-compassion. Adopting an alternative perspective on myself – treating myself like a beleaguered friend-child, one that I adore and want to nurture and restore back to its full health – feels like a viable path to cultivating self-compassion successfully. This seems backwards, to leave oneself to love oneself, but I suppose it makes sense if you’re not starting from the healthiest of places. Plenty of good advice suggests that when you cannot manifest the emotions you want, start by enacting the desired outcome instead; so this month I am leading with form.

April Activities

  • Daily metta practice – These are formal sits to cultivate feelings of love and compassion for myself and others. I tend to do metta when I am burned out, or destabilized from insight practice, and set it aside the rest of the time, especially when I am feeling good. As much as I value the relief of metta, I’m sure this pattern causes me to miss most of the richness and benefits of the practice.
  • Eat well and regularly – Eat a healthier and more structured diet. Set aside the time to plan meals, shop for the food I need, and prepare and eat food that will sustain my energy level through out the day.
  • Exercise three times per week. I know this is critical for health and energy. Exercise grounds me in my body and cultivates vibrancy.
  • Take nature walks three times per week. Spending time in nature is one of the most restorative activities I can do for myself, and also one of the easiest – all I have to do is show up and be there. Every time I go into the natural world I am amazed at the beauty, the competency, and the abundance of the system. I find it deeply reassuring, that as an organic being, I too have a place in the correct order of things.
  • Write myself a daily note of thanks for the work I did well. I often feel sad and disappointed that my efforts go unrecognized by others. It seems unreasonable that I should expect anyone else to do something I’m not willing to do myself, so this task is to start setting that right, and hold myself accountable for success.
  • When I am struggling, which I surely will, answer the question: What do I need to do now, so that later I will be proud of how I acted? Then do that.
  • Get enough sleep. Lights out by 10:00.

Expectations
I expect this will be uncomfortable and I won’t like it a lot of the time. I expect that even though these tasks are designed to nurture myself, I will feel like I’m not doing them right, or like they’re not working. When I’m feeling resistant, I expect a lot mental negotiations (manipulation) about how the most caring thing will be to cut myself a break. I expect that any success I have will be modest; I am not going to undo a lifetime of learned behavior in a few weeks. I expect that there will be some nice moments that connect me to that deep strength we all have that is the catalyst for beautiful action in the world. I expect that I will feel more loving towards others, and that will help reinforce my practice, and compassion for myself.

What do I Value?
I value living a life that is in alignment with The Way. I value the chance to live a life where all of my actions become an offering of gratitude for the life I’ve been given. I value the chance to be loved by others, because they trust their love is safe with me – that I have (l)earned the privilege of receiving love by first loving myself. I value feeling safe and confident. I value living a life that offers something to the world, and makes it a more beautiful place. I value having enough within myself that I can give freely, easily, and joyfully.

What do I Want?
I want to be vital. I want to believe I have a purpose in the world and be grateful for the chance to serve that purpose honorably. I want turning inward to be a peaceful, restorative, confidence-building activity. I want to love and trust myself a lot more than I do now. I want to be at home in my own heart.

Where is the Resistance?
I am susceptible to moods of debilitating despair. Practicing self-compassion during these times seems impossible, in part because it opens up space so painful that it’s simply intolerable – I just shut down. So, there will be a lot of resistance during these swings because it is easier to collapse, than to push back against a force that strong. What I’m hoping to gain through this practice is a new version of surrender – one which doesn’t deny, or fight, the truth of the experience, but also does not remain passive to it.

Self-love is the first love, but also the last. Confronting my skilllessness in this area is just extraordinarily painful, because it lays bare the truth and responsibility of abandoning oneself. There is no one else to blame, and no one else to help. I’m afraid to know the magnitude of work required to build an eternal castle. I’m ashamed of my fear and immaturity, and that’s going to creep into my practice in all sorts of ways.

What am I Willing to do?
I am willing to try, and keep trying. I am willing to do my best.
I am willing to be honest.
I am willing to do the tasks I’ve committed to.
I am willing to do the planning and pre-work required so that my tasks have a place in my days, and the highest chance of success. It is hard to relax into the inherent pleasure of something, if I am rushing through it for lack of foresight. Habitual rushing is a form of self-abuse.
I am willing to prioritize my practice over other activities.

What is Gained and Lost?

Gained

  • The ability to see myself more objectively. Being fair to myself seems like a critical interim step towards a strong foundation of self-love.
  • More energy and more vitality. Basic care for my body (diet, exercise, rest) will result in a higher, more stable energetic baseline. Pleasure opens as a possibility, when everything stops feeling like a chore. I remember a version of myself that was vivacious, and I want this back.
  • Confidence. This practice, and sharing it publicly, is hard for me, scary. I’m really self-conscious about it. Having some success in this practice – just being willing to start – is so important for teaching myself the skill of pushing through my (dis)comfort level and proving to myself what I’m truly capable of.

Lost
The protection of my illness. I am recovering from a severe depression that radically altered my life. This is real and important work. But at the same time, there is a part of me that’s fearful, probably terrified, of rejoining the world where I got so sick to begin with. I am fearful of making the same mistakes again. I am fearful of engaging in a culture that I feel often brutally pushes us out of balance, and divorces us from our basic human needs of connection to ourselves, to others, and to our environment. I don’t like being sick. I sincerely want my life and vitality back. I desperately want to learn how to do this for myself. I believe this is possible, but I don’t know how to do it, and paradoxically, perversely, “staying” sick allows me to delay creating a phase of my life that I literally can’t even imagine yet. It is a resistance so vague I don’t know how to find it, or drop it, but I sense it as a nearly constant presence.

Contributors:
I’m trying something new in this post – adding the resources that directly influenced my choice for the month. Part of what this year of practice is about is investigating the ways in which traditional teachings and modern perspectives on meditation come together to form American styles of contemplative practice. I also want to recognize how the work of others is influencing me, and express my gratitude.

This month, my special thanks to Gil Fronsdal for his dharma talk on willpower, and to my friend Keri, whose courage and honesty in her writing is a tremendous inspiration to me. I bow to you both, with gratitude and respect.

Source Code

Numbers and symbols

I am spiraling down, down, down into the ascension.

I am disoriented. I have merged with nothing. I am standing inside the source and I can’t understand anything. I never pack right for this trip, I always forget to bring love, and I can’t interpret the code.

My heart is saturated, heavy, wet. The smallest movements break the fine tension, and this grief seeps into my blood. When I bend, my head throbs and my eyes leak. This sickness, it’s an injury in my blood, cycling, cycling, cycling, as my heart sucks and rasps and pushes. It touches every cell, and washes through my bones, and my bones moan.

I feel – acutely – the absence of everything I am supposed to feel, want to feel, remember feeling. I feel the absence of the life I wish so desperately to live in, as it happens around me. Feeling my definition through the negative space rather than a form I know as my own is so painful, so disorienting that I breathe as little as possible, so that I might become numb and stop feeling everything I am not experiencing. I am transparent to my own existence, a hollow steward of the next best guess. I can no longer find consciousness inside of me – it is a thin haze, vague. I am vague. I am listening for God but I have stopped being the channel – I am inside the code and I can’t understand it. I am terrified.

I did not pack right for this trip. I brought stacks of what I know, but I forgot to bring love. Nothing makes sense.

I am resting in the eye of the great dark forces that are the infinite source of space; I am witnessing destruction. I am much too delicate for God’s work. This pain is the pain of feeling the space between everything. Of flesh rent by the dark gravity of nothing. I cannot bear the pressure and the loneliness of being immaterial. I gape, and bow and weep at the feet of the Spacemaker, so that I may remember the great service I am spared. So that I may remember the privilege of love, and what it entails.