by Elly van Laar | Jul 2, 2017 | Compassionate Communication, Mindfulness, Nonviolent Communication, Personal Growth
Do you remember when I wrote about being accidentally bitten by a dog?
The grandma sent me a basket of flowers, arranged like a dog with a bandaid, and a big smiley balloon.
I have kept that basket on my desk. As you can see, most flowers are brown and droopy (except for one, which is hanging in there), and the balloon is deflated.
I find it a beautiful visualization of Thich Nhat Hanh’s teachings on impermanence: No phenomenon is permanent, everything is constantly transitioning to the next manifestation. If the conditions of its existence are favorable, the phenomenon is here, if the conditions are unfavorable, the manifestation will disappear.
The flower transforms into compost. Compost turns into grass. Grass is eaten by insects and animals, who poop by the pecan tree. This autumn, I might be eating these flowers in the pecans I harvest, and the digested pecans might come out as words! Well, heck. Those words might show up in the newsletter I’ll be writing in November!
Impermanence also teaches me that death is a reminder to cherish life. Everything and everyone I love will eventually die, including me.
“We need to learn to appreciate the value of’ impermanence. If we are in good health and are aware of impermanence, we will take good care of ourselves. When we know that the person we love is impermanent, we will cherish our beloved all the more. Impermanence teaches us to respect and value every moment and all the precious things around us and inside of us. When we practice mindfulness of impermanence, we become fresher and more loving. (Thich Nhat Hanh, The Heart of the Buddhist Teachings, 1998)
I have a personal practice of reciting this Thich Nhat Hanh gatha (verse) every night:
“The Day has now ended, our lives are shorter.
Now we look carefully: what have we done?
Noble Sangha, with all our hearts, let us be diligent,
engaging with the practice.
Let us live deeply, aware of impermanence,
so that life does not drift away without meaning.”
This gatha inspires me with joy, gratitude and appreciation for everyone and everything I’ve been given.
When I find myself disconnected from someone, the insight of impermanence helps me realize that they might be taken from me in the blink of an eye. When I reflect on this, I find it easier to see that any struggle I am facing is smaller than our vast impermanence. And realizing this helps me to reconcile and reach out to reconnect.
What helps you to see the impermanent nature of yourself and those around you?
Looking at the wilting flowers and deflating balloon, I see the new seeds of life in it. And I feel happy, very happy.
by Elly van Laar | May 7, 2017 | Empathy, Mindfulness, Nonviolent Communication, NVC
We’re at Sangha, my Thich Nhat Hanh mindfulness community and we’re starting our mindful walking. One step in front of the other, taking a breath with every step, solidly feeling the ground underneath our feet.
I always love this practice, it slows me down and solidifies me in the support I have from our Earth.
For the last couple of months I practice synchronizing my steps and speed with the person in front of me. A sort of bodily empathy.
“Can I let myself enter fully into the world of his feelings and personal meanings and see these as he does? Can I step into his private world so completely that I lose all desire to evaluate or judge it? Can I enter it so sensitively that I can move about in it freely, without trampling on meanings which are precious to him?” Carl Rogers, “On Becoming a Person”.
This time I walk right behind my husband. It’s enlightening to see where I’m stuck in my dedication to physically understand what it means to walk this Earth as someone else. I notice all kinds of judgments and evaluations come up: “That’s so unique: he drags his feet in a 45° to his other feet, as if he’s waltzing.” “That’s weird: he turns the corner in a 90° angle, as if he is in a military marching band.” “His steps are way too big!”
It reminds me of all the other times when I lose my empathic presence. Where I’m being triggered and focus my attention on my reaction to what someone’s sharing, instead of on their experience.
It usually doesn’t help with the connection, and certainly not with the understanding.
So now what?
- The first step it to acknowledge that I often hear two things at the same time: what they’re saying, and what I’m saying as a reaction to it.
- Then: honor that both voices are worthy of respect and being heard.
- And finally: make a choice what I want to do: pause the interaction and listen to the thoughts in my head first, or pause my inner voices and tell them I will listen to them after my connection to this other person.
When I am in that mindful state of knowing what’s going on within and around me, I can create the greater sense of connection and understanding I want: with myself and with them.
And you, what do you to maintain empathic presence? Let me know: I would love to learn from your experiences.
by Elly van Laar | Apr 25, 2017 | Empathy, Mindfulness, Nonviolent Communication, NVC, Personal Growth
I’m up early. Before the crack of dawn. I love it. I feel energized and excited about a new day, about being alive and having the opportunity to contribute, learn, and receive.
I get dressed and make my tea. Green tea. Yum.
Then I hear the alarm on my phone go off. First softly, then loudly. I rush toward the sound, I don’t want my husband to wake up. It gets louder, the closer I get to the bathroom.
As soon as I think I am getting close, the sound fades. Shoot! So where is it? I don’t want it to go off next to his ear. I feel relieved to hear it again, in the kitchen. That makes sense, it must be on the counter, where I made my tea.
And again, as soon as I think I am close, the sound subsides. No! My husband worked late last night and needs his sleep. Where is my phone?!
The sound increases, in the dining room. I look around, more frantic now. Nothing to be found nowhere.
Then it dawns on me. My cell phone has been in my pocket the whole time.
My alarm sounds like ocean waves rolling on the beach: softer and louder with each wave coming in and fading away. The precious thing I was looking for, was right there in my jeans all the time.
It made me think of a story Pema Chodron tells in “When Things Fall Apart”. It’s about a woman who’s sent out into the world with only a coat. She ends up destitute, with no means to support even her basic needs for survival. She complains about her poverty. Her coat goes to shreds, and in the hem she finds diamonds. Plenty enough to sell and support her.
That woman is me, running around, looking for my Buddha nature, my Christ essence, my basic goodness. All the while, I’m stuck in my anger, fear, jealousy, and judge myself for having these feelings.
I hope there comes a moment where I realize that I had Buddha nature all along, buried in my hardened heart. The place where I stop, connect, and celebrate my innate compassionate nature. Where I acknowledge my love, care and gratitude as “enough conditions to be happy”. Where I see my happiness and suffering as expressions of our shared humanity.
Our shared humanity with people I like, and people I don’t like. People who think and vote like me, and people who do the opposite. People whose words and actions are in alignment with my values, and people who speak and act in ways that conflict with my dreams for our world.
I imagine that when I am grounded in my own goodness, I can offer my insight to help others see theirs. To help them pause, take a breath, and smile at life.
I think that thàt is the best gift I can give to others.
by Elly van Laar | Feb 7, 2017 | Empathy, Mindfulness, Nonviolent Communication
After the elections, one thing that stands out to me is the need to create circles of listening. With myself, with family and friends, and especially with those who have different points of view. I want to understand the beautiful needs behind all choices. I want to collaborate to find solutions that work for everyone.
I love and have adapted the Peace Agreement that Thich Nhat Hanh offers for such conversations in “Creating True Peace, ending violence in yourself, your family, your community, and the world“, 2003.
I invite you to read it and edit it to adjust to your truth. Find others to agree to it, so that you can have the support of a community.
And if we can’t find anyone to collaborate with us, we can hold this mindset as a vow to ourselves when listening to people whose choices scare, upset, or anger us.
Without listening we are stuck in our segregated circles. With listening we can build bridges of understanding, love, and connection. One step at a time.
I, the one who is angry, scared, or upset, agree to:
- Refrain from saying or doing anything that might create more damage or escalate anger, fear, or upset.
- Practice mindful breathing to take care of my anger, fear, or upset.
- Calmly, within 24 hours, find the empathy I need to understand which needs triggered my feelings so that I can speak responsibly about my experience, using loving speech.
- Verbally or in writing ask for an appointment to talk about the matter more deeply, preferably with a community of mindful supporters.
- Practice self-connection. I will not deny or suppress my feelings, and not say: “I’m not angry, scared, or upset, it’s fine. I’m not suffering. There’s nothing to be angry, scared, or upset about.”
- Practice self-acceptance. I will look deeply into my daily life -while I’m sitting, standing, walking, or lying down- in order to see:
- *How I myself have been unskillful at times.
- *How my own unmindful habits have contributed to hurt in the other person.
- *How my thoughts, needs, and the energy of my feelings are the primary cause of my anger, fear, and upset. How the other person is the stimulus of my feelings, not the cause.
- Reflect that I cannot be truly happy, as long as the other person suffers.
- Express my mourning for my unskillfulness and lack of mindfulness, without shaming or blaming myself, as soon as I have that insight.
- Postpone any meeting, until I am openhearted enough to meet the other person with the love and respect I choose to bring into the world.
I, the one who contributed to the other person’s feelings of anger, fear, and upset, agree to:
- Respect the other person’s feelings, not judge or deny them, and allow them enough time to self-connect and restore balance.
- Not press for an immediate discussion.
- Confirm their request for a meeting, either verbally or by note, and assure them that I will be there, and that my intention is to respect everyone’s needs for acceptance, understanding, and love.
- Practice mindful breathing and looking deeply to see how:
- *I have mistakenly thought that making others suffer might relieve my own suffering.
- *I am suffering when I contribute to their suffering
- Express my mourning for my unskillfulness and lack of mindfulness, without shaming or blaming myself or others. I will be aware that efforts to defend, explain, or justify myself indicate that need more support to act with the love and respect I cherish.
We vow with all our heart and in the mindful presence of our community to practice wholeheartedly. We ask that our community helps to protect us and grant us wisdom.
What have you committed to to bring more peace in yourself, your communities, and this world? Let me know. I’d love to be inspired.
by Elly van Laar | Jan 24, 2017 | Compassion, Empathy, Mindfulness, Nonviolent Communication
I’m playing Triominos. By myself. Usually I play with my husband, but he isn’t home. I put nine tiles in front of my right hand, and nine tiles in front of my left hand.
My right hand has the triple five and starts.
My left hand needs to take a stone.
My right hand is excited as it puts down a perfect match for the triple five.
“Bummer” — my left hand needs to pass again.
“Awesome!” — my right hand puts down its third stone — “I’m winning!”
Then my left hand puts out a stone, relieved.
“You blocked my move!” — says my right hand, irritated.
My left hand can put down a second stone — “Nothing is lost yet. Pfew.”
My right hand gets agitated — “Again: you blocked me!”
After a few more rounds, my right hand can finally declare victory — “I won!!”
Playing by myself and hearing these habitual voices about winning and losing go through my mind, I think of Thich Nhat Hanh’s teachings on interbeing:
“Non-violence can be born only from the insight of non-duality, of interbeing. This is the insight that everything is interconnected and nothing can exist by itself alone. Doing violence to others is doing violence to yourself. If you do not have the insight of non-duality, you will still be violent. You will still want to punish, to suppress, and to destroy. But once you have penetrated the reality of non-duality, you will smile at both the flower and garbage in you, you will embrace both.” (Thich Nhat Hanh, Anger, p. 70)
I love this teaching.
I also struggle with it.
I get it when I look at my right and left hand playing against each other. They are part of the same body.
I forget it when I’m in conflict with people and think they are the cause of my hurt, fear, or anger. When I see ‘them’ as the enemy and ‘me’ as the angel. I want to withdraw, or lash out. I want someone to tell me how right I am and how wrong they are.
And yet, when I utter harsh words against my husband, I feel miserable. When I yell at someone in traffic, I feel anxious and upset. When I ignore the suffering of Syrian refugees, I feel ashamed.
As much as I struggle to put the teaching of interbeing into practice, I continue the effort, because in my heart I know it’s true. I feel more at peace if I see the interbeing of Nazis and Jews, white supremacists and blacks, the one percent and the 99%.
I want to remember that in the end we are held in the same Earth, who accepts us unconditionally, without discrimination. I want to remember that we all return to compost. Especially when I feel a frustrated urge to withdraw or an angry urge to lash out.
For my greater happiness. And for the greater happiness of others.
Let me know how this landed for you.
by Elly van Laar | May 28, 2016 | Acceptance, Mindfulness, Personal Growth
When is the last time you saw someone talk to the chair on their porch and say, “You shouldn’t be here”? Or, “What’s wrong with you?” Or, “You should be ashamed being here”?
I’ve never seen it. And if I had, I probably would have thought them a bit crazy.
Most people see and accept the fact that there is a chair on the porch wherever it is. They don’t argue with reality.
And if they like where it is, they leave it. If they they don’t, they do something about it. Like give it to someone else, put it at the curb, or bring it to Goodwill.
We can probably agree that that makes sense.
When it comes to our thoughts, though, we act like a crazy lady: “This thought shouldn’t be here!” “This thought should feel ashamed being here!”
We argue with reality. We challenge what we are thinking, even though it is right there in front of us being a thought.
If we fight reality, we can’t spend our energy doing something that might actually be more productive.
I think our lives are easier when we start from the beginning. Accept what is here, whether a chair or a thought. It is. Just that: there is a thought. Then choose what to do about it. Maybe work around it. Maybe change it. Maybe accept it.
One of my favorite clients told me that when her thoughts are too distracting, she writes them on a piece of paper. I think this is brilliant. By writing it down, we manifest in the external world what we experience internally. In writing our thoughts on paper, we create distance between ourselves and our thoughts: here’s what I am thinking, there is the thought.
We can become an observer of our thoughts. Literally: “There is a thought.”
Now we can soften our identification with our thought. And in that softening, we can stop arguing with reality and get on with what we want to do about it.
What do you do when your thoughts come up?
Safe travels David. Thanks for editing!
