Mike McCabe
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I do feel ready. I’ve been teaching inmates in a group setting at my local jail for a year now, and I have always incorporated the practice in yoga classes that I teach too. One-on-one teaching will be newer for me, but it doesn’t scare me too much. If asked a question I will readily admit what I don’t know (which is a lot) but if I can I will pass along what I have been taught if the setting is appropriate. If I get any kind of question I might also ask the student, “What do you think?”
I will make mistakes if I’m not mindful, but I hope not to repeat mistakes. Like anything else, I expect it will become easier with repetition and continuous learning by me. I’m convinced of the value and importance of the practice, and I plan to bring that sense to any class I end up teaching.
I’m planning to ask the owner of the yoga studio I attend whether she’s interested in adding a meditation class to the schedule. Hopefully she will give me the opportunity to teach it often.
I have no judgment on whatever a teacher chooses to do regarding compensation.
Teaching meditation involves an exchange of value, an exchange of energy. So a teacher receiving value or energy in return is appropriate. Individual teachers have a lot of latitude to decide what form that value should take.
For my own decision it all starts with intention. I personally am not looking to teach meditation for money, so I thought very little about the topic before last Saturday’s class. I work as a volunteer for a group that brings mindfulness meditation to inmates at the local county jail. The program is rooted firmly in Tibetan Buddhism but is presented as a secular practice. My work is unpaid and that’s fine with me. My “compensation” is the inmates’ gratitude and that’s plenty.
But I can also imagine a future scenario where my local yoga studio adds a class focused exclusively on meditation. And if I were to teach that class I think I would try to arrange to be compensated by donation only.
Another teacher in different circumstances might arrange things differently, but I’m retired and my intention is to share, not to make money. But as I said above, no judgment if another teacher takes a different approach.
For me, ideal learning situations are those characterized by one-on-one settings, where teaching and learning happen in a judgement-free environment that is accepting of errors and hare-brained ideas, not just brilliant answers. The inverse or absence of these conditions, for me anyway, creates an environment where learning requires much more effort and has a lower probability of long-term success.
In my more recent experience, a teacher has consistently created a positive learning environment where he offers me alternative perspectives to the stories I have created about people and events. These perspectives have almost always helped me see things more clearly, pushing away delusions I had created for the sake of my own emotional comfort.
Having the time and space to reflect in this learning situation is critical, as is the understanding that there’s no humiliation in admitting an error or seeing a delusion for what it is.
So I try to incorporate these positive conditions in my own teaching situations, and I look to see if they’re effective – or need adjustment given the learning style of the person I’m trying to help or teach.
I can see that it is an important boundary. Since a big part of the assignment is to help the student discover things for themselves, someone too close (such as a friend) might do more guiding and joint-discovery than a teacher keeping more separation from the student.
I don’t recall having any first-hand experience bumping up against either side of this boundary. I do feel a strong sense of gratitude when I encounter my teachers, while continuing to respect the boundary.
If I had a teacher who was too separate, too distant, I would have difficulty making a healthy connection. Conversely, I have heard my teacher say that it would be a “danger sign” if your teacher advocated ignoring this boundary and getting too close.
Everything needs to be in balance!
I am choosing to think of this question as “which of the paramitas is most challenging”? And for me the answer is Patience. I am a task-driven person, so I enjoy the sense of completion that arrives when I finish something on my to-do list. Conversely, when something or someone gets in the way of a task, I habitually react with frustration and – impatience!
This extends to my ability to keep my connection to this moment, this person, and giving my attention (with generosity?) to this moment, this person. Instead, I will often express the opposite of generosity by withdrawing my attention and focus and become dismissive and small. Whew! No issues there! 🙂
This can often lead to me adding my own mild aggression to the mix, which is almost always unhelpful to all concerned. In recent years though, with practice and gratitude, I have been able to notice when this impatient habit energy starts to build, and I can mindfully redirect my energy in a more constructive direction.
I try to use generosity as an antidote to my impatience, giving my attention to others in a way that usually creates spaciousness and ease. When I notice and respond in this way, it feels like I am preventing confusion. And yet my tendency to be impatient is the trapdoor I fall through more than any other. Ah, to be human!
I seem to always trip over my words at some point, but I think those instances are usually more visible to me than to the people hearing them. I feel that with the right intention, it’s all good! And then absolutely – laugh lovingly and let it go.
I include (secular) mindfulness practice in yoga classes that I teach, and I also co-teach mindfulness to inmates at the local county jail. So it felt pretty natural to offer instruction here, although it was the first time I had done so over Zoom. I was conscious of the time because I knew that in 10 minutes we would be called back from the breakout rooms and I wanted that transition to be gentle.
Leading this brief practice session was similar to my regular practice routine except that I usually practice alone. So having someone practice with me added a really nice element of community and a shared experience. I was aware of “leading” a brief practice with my partner “following” me, so there was a sense of union and a sense of separation at the same time. The only thing I felt uncertainty about was my legitimacy as a teacher, my lack of formal qualifications to be in that seat. Of course, that’s a big part of the reason I joined this teaching program! Overall it was a pleasant and positive experience.
Nearly all of the Buddhist teaching that I have received was drawn from Tibetan Buddhism, so that is my lineage. More specifically, many of my teachers trace their lineages back through Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche.
This understanding of my lineage has helped me practice more diligently, more consistently, and with effort and discipline, because I feel a sense of responsibility to respect the gift of the dharma that I have received “for no good reason” as far as I can tell. Tracing my lineage back through this path is a source of humility, wonder and awe. How is it that I am so fortunate to find myself here? I have no idea.
I draw on my lineage to maintain my shrine too. Chants that I recite as part of my meditation practice come from this same Nyingma lineage. I try to remember to thank all the teachers and practitioners who have come before me, doing so much heavy lifting and writing for my benefit.
I spent the first 20 or so years of my life following Catholic doctrine. It was both a cultural and spiritual requirement for me. My immediate family was very firm on this. I had two uncles who were priests and two aunts who were nuns, so Catholicism permeated our family like incense. For the most part I was okay with this, although as I moved through my teenage years I became more resentful of the guilt imposed by dogma that seemed more and more rigid. After high school I decided to take a break and stopped being observant.
I didn’t shift toward nihilism at this (or any other) point. I continued to hold onto an eternalistic understanding of spirituality. Although I got married in a Catholic service, and both of my children were baptized Catholic, I was just a lapsed Catholic and continued to identify as such until sometime in 2018 when I read several Thich Nhat Hanh books.
These TNH books sparked my curiosity and I began to read other books about Buddhism. In 2021 I was given Susan Piver’s “Start Here Now” book as required reading for my yoga teacher training class, and began my (mostly) daily meditation practice. I took the Refuge Vow in 2023.
I never flirted with nihilism, perhaps because I had been so thoroughly imprinted with eternalism as a younger man. The idea that there were no spiritual phenomena beyond my limited conceptions has always felt narrow, limiting and self-centered. And the eternalistic approach felt more and more like a human construct intended to impose order and hierarchy.
Through my meditation practice and trying to stay open, my own awareness and experiences have reinforced the idea that this middle part is the “right” one.
Hi Susan. Good reminder that silence can create a space for discovery. As teachers we don’t need to fill every empty space with words. We can allow for ideas and thoughts to arise without a running commentary. Thanks!
Hi Stina. I like your reminder about asking questions to support discovery. I have noticed that when a meditation practitioner asks a teacher a question, a skillful teacher will often turn the question back to the practitioner, asking the practitioner, “What do you think?” This encourages the practitioner to embark on a mini-discovery journey, to see for themselves what their own experience might tell them.
For me, discovery seems to happen more when I drop my expectations. With fewer expectations, or desired outcomes, there can be an opening or a creation of more space for things to arise AND more space for me to notice that something has arisen. If I have expectations for something to happen or for some particular outcome, my focus is there and I often miss things because my attention is elsewhere. Of course, this is also much easier said than done. 🙂
I also find that trying to maintain a “beginner’s mind” (acknowleging that I don’t actually know everything) and cultivating a sense of curiosity opens me up to discovery. I think this is also because it enhances my awareness and allows for the space for things to emerge.
I have found that with practice I have been able to pull this off a little more frequently, although some days I certainly am more open than others. Having a sense of humor helps me reduce or avoid the self-criticism that tries to budge in when I inevitably revert to well-developed habits that impede awareness and discovery.
Hello everyone! My name is Mike McCabe and I’m delighted to join you in this program of exploration and discovery. During our first meeting yesterday I could feel the energy of our group, and I look forward to working with you as we all move forward together. I am a retired economist and I live in the Washington DC area. I’ve been meditating for a few years now, and I’m curious to see what emerges in my practice from this training. Wonderful to meet you all! Be well.
PS: email is mikemccabe32@gmail.com