True Refuge: Finding Peace and Freedom in Your Own Awakened Heart (25 page)

Carly wanted to stop visiting—they could just skip Thanksgiving and Christmas, she said—but Richie insisted on hanging in there. “It's not that I'm trying to martyr myself,” he told me. “Sharon's a racist, self-centered asshole, and it might do her some good if Carly refused to go home. I'd be gratified … I'm way pissed. But something in me feels like she is reachable.”

As part of his meditation practice, Richie had recently taken “bodhisattva vows” with his teacher. These express a basic commitment to let whatever arises in our life awaken compassion, and to dedicate ourselves to actively bringing this compassion to all beings. For Richie, these vows had a very specific meaning. “I don't want to give up on anyone, give up on who they can be,” he told me. But Richie knew that before he could approach Sharon, he needed to connect with his own anger, and what was behind it.

“That's what I wanted us to focus on, Tara,” he said as he sat back in his chair. “I wouldn't be so pissed if I didn't feel insecure. It's that basic issue of being worthy—she's telling me I'm not worthy enough for her daughter.”

“Is that feeling familiar?” I asked.

“Oh yeah. This has been the kind of thing I've told myself ever since my dad left. Back then it was that I'm not enough to make my mom happy.” He sat quietly for a few moments and then went on. “I thought I was supposed to fill his shoes and I couldn't. She was always depressed, always anxious.”

Richie sat back in the chair, deflated. “It's always this same feeling
 …
that I'm the kid who can't make the grade, who doesn't deserve good things. And it didn't help going to that vanilla college of ours”—he flashed me a smile—”or working in a white profession. I know this unworthiness thing's in the culture, Tara … but that kid still feels like he's young, and just not cutting it.”

“As you pay attention, can you sense what that kid who feels unworthy most wants from you?”

He was quiet and then he nodded. “He just wants me to see him, to notice him and to be kind.”

“What happens if you offer your kindness inward?”

For a few minutes Richie sat silently, pensive and still. When he opened his eyes, he looked out the window. Then he met my eyes and smiled.

“Thanks,” he said softly. “I guess this part of me needs some reassurance, some care. Just now I felt like I was looking through a camera at this kid who was failing at an impossible task. There's no way he could make things okay for his mother.”

We talked about their upcoming Thanksgiving visit, and how Sharon might activate his insecurities. Richie came up with a plan: “I'm bringing my camera. I'll keep my eye on the kid inside … and on Sharon … both of us with kindness.” And with that, he swung his legs over the side of my large armchair, visibly more relaxed.

I heard from Richie again right after Thanksgiving weekend. Sharon had treated him with polite formality—everyone else was family, he was a guest. “But I kept imagining I was looking at her through a camera viewfinder,” he told me, “and I saw she was in pain. Behind that coldness was a scared, tight heart.” He had a freeing realization: “It isn't really me she's afraid of. It's of Carly being unhappy.”

A day or so later he e-mailed me two standout photos, both of Sharon. Carly's sister had just had a baby, and he'd caught Sharon cradling her new granddaughter, looking down adoringly at the infant. The other was of a playful moment when her husband had pulled her down to sit with him and she'd toppled over on him. Richie took the shot just as they were looking at each other and laughing.

And then came Christmas. Early on Christmas Eve, Carly's dad (playing Santa) placed two boxes in front of Richie. Sharon had ordered some socks for him online (too large) and had wrapped a box of chocolates (he rarely ate sugar). Sometime later, Sharon opened her gift from Richie. She found the two photos he had taken weeks earlier, simply and elegantly framed. Sharon started trembling, and then sobbing. Her husband and Carly came over to see what was wrong. There were the pictures of Sharon with her granddaughter and her husband, looking radiant, loving, and happy. And here she was weeping. When she calmed down, she still couldn't speak and she waved everyone on to continue the gift giving.

Richie had truly “seen” Sharon—her vulnerability and spirit. He had expressed his care by mirroring her goodness. It took another year and a half for her to tell him what those gifts had meant to her, and to apologize. But because he hadn't given up on her, a thaw had begun. The following evening Carly's sister asked Richie for a lesson in swing dancing, and he showed her some steps to the jazz music on his iPod. She caught on quickly, and the others applauded as she and Richie spun happily around the living room. Carly glanced over at her mom, who was standing behind the others in the doorway. She was watching with a slight smile, her eyes wet with tears.

Offering Blessings

We are blessed whenever someone sees who we are and helps us trust our essential goodness and belonging. One friend felt blessed when her aunt understood what she most needed and paid for her first meditation retreat. A man I know, whose young son had died of brain cancer, felt blessed when his rabbi assured him that he could continue to commune with his son's spirit. As a young boy, my father-in-law felt blessed by his older cousin, who recognized his brightness and gave him a word game.

Physician and author Rachel Naomi Remen tells a beautiful story about how her grandfather's blessings nurtured her:

Most of us need to be reminded that we are good, that we are lovable, that we belong. If we knew just how powerfully our thoughts, words, and actions affected the hearts of those around us, we'd reach out and join hands again and again. Our relationships have the potential to be a sacred refuge, a place of healing and awakening. With each person we meet, we can learn to look behind the mask and see the one who longs to love and be loved. We can remember to say our blessings out loud.

Guided Meditation: Tonglen: Awakening the Heart of Compassion

The Tibetan practice of tonglen trains us to let in suffering and offer out compassion (karuna). On page 000 I introduced a version of this practice that focused on contacting our own fear and arousing self-compassion. This following practice trains us to imagine and feel the reality of others. As we include the suffering of others in our heart, we naturally respond with tenderness and care.

Sit in a way that allows you to be relaxed and alert. Let go of any habitual tension and allow your body and mind to settle.

The traditional practice of tonglen begins by taking a moment to sense the stillness or openness that is already here. This is considered a flash of remembrance, a reconnecting with our awakened heart and mind.

Now bring your attention to the natural rhythm and quality of your breath. As the breath flows in, allow your cells to receive this life energy. With each in-breath, open with total receptivity, like a balloon gently expanding with air. Be aware of the experience of no resistance, of allowing yourself to be touched by the sensations of the breath.

With the out-breath, notice the sensations of letting go and releasing into the space that surrounds you. Imagine your total body and consciousness flowing outward with the breath and mingling with the vastness of space. Breathe out into relaxation, ease, and spaciousness.

Continue meditating on the essence of receiving, being touched with the in-breath, and letting go into openness with the out-breath.

Now invite into your awareness someone you know personally who is suffering, someone you want to help. Imagine yourself in this person's circumstances, experiencing this person's fear or hurt or loss. What is it like to look at the world through these eyes? Live inside this particular body? Feel with this heart? What is the most vulnerable, painful part of this person's experience? What does he or she most need?

Now breathing in, invite all this pain into your heart, allowing yourself to feel it fully. Breathe in, taking the pain into yourself, so that the other person will have relief. And as you breathe out, respond to his or her needs by sending out relaxation, space, love, or whatever will bring ease and happiness.

Sometimes as you breathe in, you will meet your own resistance to pain. If this happens, shift the focus and breathe for yourself and countless others just like you who are feeling this same stuckness, anger, revulsion, or fear. Then as you breathe out, offer whatever helps you and others like you find space and relief.

As your resistance softens, return to breathing for the person you intend to help. As you inhale and let the person's pain touch you, feel how he or she is held in your heart. And as you exhale, send whatever prayer or expression of care feels most sincere or most needed.

Now, enlarge the taking in and sending out to include all those who are in the same situation, experiencing the same suffering. If the person you want to help is grieving a loss, breathe in and out for all those who are experiencing the pain of loss. If this person feels like a failure, breathe in and out for all who feel like failures. Sense, as you breathe in, the unconditional willingness, tenderness, and receptivity of your heart; and as you breathe out, the vastness of loving awareness that is here, holding this world.

Continue breathing, opening to the universal experience of this suffering and letting go into spaciousness with prayer. As your heart opens to the enormity of suffering, you become that openness. As you offer your tenderness, your awareness becomes suffused with compassion.

Flexibility in using the breath:
If at any point you find the breathing instructions interfere with the actual experience of taking in suffering and sending out ease and love, adjust however most serves the meditation. For instance you might find you need to focus on just the in-breath or just the out-breath for several cycles to more fully contact experience, or to let go. Or you might find that it is easier not to focus on the breath at all.

Throughout your day:
You can do an abbreviated version of tonglen whenever you encounter suffering. If someone you meet is having a hard time, pause. For several breaths, silently breathe in his or her pain and breathe out relief. If you feel yourself resisting, turned off, or afraid of the pain, do tonglen for yourself and all those like you who are having difficulty opening to pain.

No matter what comes up, it is an opportunity for practicing compassion. Rather than ignoring pain or judging ourselves, we can train ourselves to open into our full potential to love.

When tonglen may be inappropriate:
If you are struggling with trauma-related fear, unrelenting depression, or severe psychological imbalance, tonglen may cause emotional flooding or a sense of being stuck. In these situations, seek guidance from a spiritual teacher, therapist, or trusted guide in finding what best helps you move toward healing.

Guided Meditation: Lovingkindness: Seeing Past the Mask

Whenever we recognize goodness, our heart opens with lovingkindness. Starting from the love we feel for those dearest to us, this version of the lovingkindness meditation helps us learn to see goodness in those who are different, distant, or even hurtful.

Sit in a way that allows you to be comfortable and relaxed. Letting go of whatever tension you can, loosen your shoulders, soften your hands, and relax your belly. Feel a smile spread through your eyes, softening the flesh around them. Bring a slight smile to the mouth, and feel the smile on the inside of the mouth. Smile into your heart, and then imagine the smile expanding, creating a receptive, tender space through the whole heart and chest area.

Now bring into your heart someone you love. Take some moments to reflect on the qualities you most appreciate. Recall his or her intelligence, humor, kindness, vitality. Picture this person when he or she is feeling love for you. Be aware of his or her essence as good and wakeful and caring. In your heart feel your appreciation for this dear one and begin offering your prayer. You might draw from four or five phrases below or, if you prefer, create your own.

As you silently whisper each phrase of lovingkindness, imagine how it might be for this person to experience the fruit of your blessing—the fullness of love, self-acceptance, peace, joy, and freedom.

Now widen your circle of caring by bringing to mind a “neutral” person. (This might be someone you see regularly but don't know well or feel strongly about.) Take some moments to recall how this person looks, moves, and speaks. Now try to imagine him or her gazing at a beloved child … or struck by the beauty of a fresh snowfall … or laughing, relaxed, and at ease. Remind yourself that he or she wants to be happy and doesn't want to suffer. Then, as this person comes alive for you, use the phrases above, or whatever others you choose, to offer your appreciation and lovingkindness.