3 Questions for RESILIENCE in the time of Coronavirus

Hello you (from the floor in my office), 

The wonderful writer and founder of The School of Life, Alain De Botton succinctly quipped that “A good half of the art of living is resilience.”

Otherwise said, a good half of the art of living is our ability to hit the ground and bounce back up. Human elasticity. Especially in the face of hardship.

Last week, my dear friend and fellow meditation teacher Amanda Gilbert invited me to chat on her Instagram Live series — called Cultivating a Resilient Heart — and it got me thinking about what resilience actually means at this moment when we’re weathering a global pandemic. 

I've been paying close attention to my own moments of loneliness, melancholy and restlessness, and what questions have been useful to deploy -- to make this unsettling moment a little more bounce-back-able into some semblance of sanity and ease: without minimizing the reality of what we're experiencing here. Together.
(Which can be a reassuring reminder unto itself.) 

Here are the questions that have become my lamp posts, just in case you might find them helpful, too. 

1. Is it possible to feel what is difficult right now without making the feeling a problem?

As we adjust to the "new normal" of economic seizure, isolation, and spiking rates of infection, I find it helpful to remember that this isn't "normal" at all, actually. And our nervous systems know it.
Our sweet little bodies come equipped with a functional alarm system to let us know when something is amiss. And thank goodness for that. 

This means that it isn't a question of IF highly charged emotions will arise, but rather WHEN. Anxiety, fear, anger -- and even guilty feelings if we're having a fairly nice go at this pandemic are pretty much par for the course. 

There is a phrase in Buddhist cosmology--"shooting the second arrow"-- which refers to the practice of having a difficult experience (like, anxiety) and then making ourselves "wrong" for feeling the way that we do.
This is not helpful. We could shame, coerce, or badger ourselves into tucking our feelings away, but negating our emotional intelligence is essentially just kicking ourselves while we're down. 

What might it mean, instead, to anticipate that we will be in our feelings, at certain points during this whole affair, and create space for that to be okay? Welcome. Respected. Invited, even.
I'm obviously biased, but I've found meditation has been pivotal in learning how to hold space for myself. 

Which opens up the second question(s): 

2. What kinds of routines or rituals will offer me a soft landing during this time? What might it mean to make my space a sanctuary over the next several weeks... or months? 

This moment in time will play out.
Anybody who tells you HOW it will play out, however, is just grasping at straws. The truth is, we don’t know. Will it get worse before it gets better? What will the lasting repercussions be? Will the repercussions be favorable or unfavorable? Both? Neither?
Living in uncertainty can be scary. Especially if we’re more accustomed to living by the answers than living into the questions. And ESPECIALLY especially if our safety, livelihood, or wellbeing are on the line.

This is why self-guided routines and rituals can be such a stabilizing force — we’re creating a reliable structure to relax into when very little else can be relied on. 

I've been taking my cue from all of the meditation and writing retreats I've been on over the years -- periods of deliberate isolation -- that were structured with the intent to allow participants to just drop in. Relax. And feel cared for and uplifted in the process.

This means creating a daily schedule with consistent wake ups, bedtimes, mealtimes and meditation. Ironing my clothes. Fresh flowers weekly, for every room in the house. (Even something cheap and cheerful, like carnations does the trick.) Throwing the windows open for an hour of fresh, nippy air.
Incense, palo santo, candles. 30 minutes of news, maximum. Stretch breaks. Tea breaks. Dance breaks. Journaling. Done with work by 7pm. Epsom salt baths. Cleaning the house like the Obamas are coming to dinner. Or Dolly Parton is coming to dinner. Or Tom Hanks is coming to dinner. 
[insert your revered humans of choice] 

Wash. Rinse. Repeat. Until routine becomes muscle memory and ritual becomes habit. 

How about you? What does it mean to make your space an uplifted sanctuary -- complete with a daily routine that you can relax into? 

3. What are the opportunities available in this moment? Personal opportunities? Collective / societal opportunities?

The only thing that we can know for sure is that the flip side of the uncertainty is the gold of pure potential. In Zen, this is sometimes called "Don't know mind" or "Beginner's mind". We don't what will happen, so what happens could be anything. 

I've been having conversations with friends and meditation students alike, about how they're relating to this time of uncertainty/potential as a gold mine of opportunity -- both on the personal and societal front. 

For some, this is the opportunity to connect with college friends whom they haven't seen in a decade, organizing group calls now that we're all less entangled in the hustle. For some the opportunity to finally let their hair grow out grey, let their nails heal from years of gel manicures. Mend the holes in the pockets of the winter coats, learn to crochet from YouTube tutorials, read books again, rediscover recreation. 

Collectively it might be the opportunity to examine whom and what is left neglected or unprotected when we're otherwise tied up in the grind. The cracks in our social systems and are laid bare right now, which may be a real opportunity for solidarity, action and change. 

These are the questions that I've been resting with -- please use them as journal prompts or lamp posts if they're useful to you, too. 

It's a very bizarre moment in time, and knowing we're doing it together makes it tenable. Joyful, even. In the sense of the word that includes all things. Preferable. Un-preferable. Comforting. Discomfiting.
And honestly, I can't think of a more apt description of what human resilience can be.

Hitting the ground, and bouncing back. Together. And with joy. 

✨ Disappointment. Meditation. Tea And Cake With Demons. ✨

Hello from New Mexico,

I'm here on an unintentional solo retreat, just my meditation cushion and me, nestled in the beauty of the high desert. I say unintentional because I was supposed to be here with two friends -- who, for their own very good reasons (health and work) couldn't make it last minute. What is that old Yiddish proverb about making plans and God laughing?

Which is how I ended up alone, miles off of a dirt road, with no phone service and little-to-no WiFi access until my connection was resolved last night (phew). It's also how I've ended up spending the past few days contemplating the feeling of deep disappointment.

Which as someone who just released a book called Tea And Cake With Demons, trust that this cosmic joke of being alone in the company of my own disappointment is not lost on me. Revision : Just my meditation cushion and me, AND and the demon of disappointment.
Hello, you sweet little f*cker. You nasty, tender little thing.

Recently Marisa Viola -- my friend, fellow meditation teacher, and cohost of this upcoming retreat -- reminded me of a line by the Tibetan mediation master Chogyam Trungpa that's been rattling around in my chest cavity ever since:

"Disappointment is the chariot of the the dharma."

In other words: disappointment is the horse that reality rides in on.
This can be exceedingly clarifying -- meeting the truth of things head on. A big ol' breath of authentic perception.
I can see that what I wanted to happen, what I thought was happening -- is not actually what's happening at all.

Which of course can also be incredibly painful as reality collides with our grandest delusions, hopes and expectations in a very uncomfortable way. Disappointment is the chariot of the truth of things — not the chariot of the way that we thought things would be.

This collision of reality meeting our desired reality can leave us pretty banged up, depending on how far the let-down has to travel before it hits the floor.
One always hears that meditation helps in these situations.
But of course, the question is -- how?

It’s not a stretch to say that 1/2 of the people who come to my classes at MNDFL confess that they’re there because of the death, the diagnosis, the divorce, the disappointment that left them all banged up — and they heard that meditation could help… ? Hopefully?

And I can attest like an Evangelist that it’s true. YES.
Meditation is super effing helpful in navigating those hard collisions — but maybe not in the ways that we think. It doesn’t offer us some kind of spin-job or reframe like, “Everything happens for a reason”.
*Although everything might happen for a reason — what do I know? Maybe that's why God is laughing. Or the Universe. Or the Divine. Or the Void. Or whatever you like to call the mystery.
Sorry -- tangent.

What mediation offers us — in my opinion — is exponentially more valuable:
The consistent practice of meeting reality as it is.
Which leads to the profound realization — feeling of certainty, even -- that even if the situation is not okay, that you will be okay. No matter how this all pans out.

The lost opportunity. The failed outcome.
The hard truth that resides where hope used to be.
Let me say that again : Even if the situation is not okay -- or what you what you want it to be -- know that you will be okay.
No. Matter. What.

We might even call this skillset “resilience”. Which as a lifeskill, is often hard-won and priceless.

When we sit down on the mediation cushion we’re inviting practice to sober us up in the best way possible. We ride the breath back to our present moment experience.
Over and over again.
We’re agreeing to meet with low-doses of discomfort — like an itch, boredom, a hit of anxiety or a leg falling asleep (Me. Always.) without making it a problem. With an attitude of gentle accommodation.
I see you.
Thank you for the information.
Now back to the breath. Back to the body. Back to the moment at hand.

This one-two combo of meeting reality as it is — and realizing that we are okay,regardless —- is something that we practice on the cushion so that we’re more equipped to meet disappointment in our life.
When - not if - it happens.
And in my experience, that's better than the very best spin-job.

Swing low, sweet chariot.
I may not like the joke. But at least I trust that I'm in on it.