REMEMBER
As I begin this blog, the sun is out, and it is energizing. I confess, the weather alters my mood. I am subject to seasonal affective disorder SAD, and I don’t like it. I recognize depression tiptoeing toward me, bringing a heaviness to my body and a lethargy to my spirit. I am craving warm weather and having trouble accepting the duration of the winter here in New England, with grey skies, piles of dirty snow, and icy roads and sidewalks. Driving and walking have been treacherous, and I am more awake to the danger of slipping and falling rather than the wonders of the day. Thankfully, I realize this. I know spring will arrive, but I am impatient. Can I welcome my dislike of winter and my resistance to the weather as Rumi suggests in his poem “The Guest House?” No. I do not, but I do acknowledge the feelings that arise and their familiarity, and I know it will dissipate.
I feel lucky. I have been teaching Mindfulness Tools at the Center for Mindfulness at UMassMemorial Medical Center. The class meets for only 90 minutes for four weeks on Zoom, but a sense of intimacy and community develops, which cheers me and supports my ability to be compassionate and kind to myself and remember impermanence. Recognizing the futility of trying to change the unchangeable helps me remember there is much that is possible and to take myself less seriously.
Mindfulness is a translation of the word Sati (Pali: sati; Sanskrit: स्मृति smṛti), literally "memory" or "retention", "to remember to observe". It is an essential part of Buddhist practice. I remember that I am not alone but part of something much larger than myself. Having feelings of liking and disliking the conditions of our life is normal. Conditions change, and our relationship to them changes. It is part of the human condition, but they don’t need to define us. How we interpret what we experience is variable. It’s just a story I tell people. We are already perfect (and can always improve a little). There is no need for striving. Change will happen. The sun is out today, and tomorrow it may sleet or snow. I don’t know what the weather will be like when you read this, but as long as I am alive, my breath is continuing, and as I write the electricity is still working and keeping my house warm. I can even enjoy complaining…and laugh. It helps me maintain perspective. It is a release.
"You must ask for what you really want."' writes Rumi in the poem “The Breeze at Dawn.” I realize there are many things I want, and some are possible, but others are not. Now that I am old, I am aware that time may be infinite, but my life has a termination date, so the question has a fresh relevance. What do I truly want? The emphasis is on the “truly.” I’d like to be taller and reach the higher shelves in my kitchen with greater ease, but I am shrinking, so I now have a small stool in the kitchen that is easy to access and safe to use. I want to be independent as long as possible. I want to be able to adapt to changes in my body and mind. I want to make peace with loss. I want to set realistic priorities and be compassionate when I am self-judgmental, lost in the past, or worried about the future. I want to be loving and kind and be loved in return with kindred souls who share similar values. I want to accept that I may not get what I want. I want to be grateful for what I have and satisfied with what I am and not who I think I should be.
“We have what we seek, we have it all the time, and if we give it time it will make itself known to us.” Thomas Merton
This is sometimes hard to believe but vital to remember. Prompts are helpful, so I have some favorite objects that bring peace and I collect inspirational sayings and books. Relationships are important to me, and people I can turn to who are honest and caring. I have a favorite chair to sit in that’s comfortable and faces a window that allows me to look outside and go beyond myself. Being older, my memory isn’t as good as it used to be. I have to write numbers down and double-check times for appointments and things I must do, but I always want to remember to cherish good friends and how good I feel when I am generous and kind to another. Sharing what is meaningful is a gift to give and receive. I appreciate being able to choose to say no and be discerning in my use of time. I want to appreciate my teachers, known and unknown, who help me remember my humanity and expand my world. I acknowledge that I am vulnerable and strong—and don’t always like the weather—and that is all right. It will pass. Doesn’t everything? I want to remember this and be grateful.