Erin Anderson
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Jamie, What a gift! I am thankful for your reflection on your role as a teacher, to stabilize the circumstance for the kids in these wickedly tough times. It’s unthinkable! Yet, you held the container so that the air could clear and the kids could think again. You maintained your integrity. Like you highlighted, this process of teaching is reciprocal. What we set out to teach/embody for our students circles back to ourselves.
David, your essays have made it clear to me that you have a tremendous heart for teaching and bringing goodness to your students. This is such a benefit for all those that work with you. Thanks so much for sharing candidly these weeks.
It resonated with me when you wrote of the great effort put into our work here together being so valuable. I feel this too. I don’t feel like I wrote what I really wanted to, in most of the essays. It was hard to put it all into words, but so enriching to try, and then to reflect that to others, too.
I am going to use that term! “mandala of tools” is a perfect description of my journey too.
As for being transparent with your heart, that’s amazing. Maybe this can be your magic, your superpower? Then, you will be very relatable to your meditation students.
It has been a joy to hear your thoughts through this program.Dear Anne,
I hear your hesitation to write about yourself. It seems that both writing positively about ourselves and naming our vulnerabilities are equally difficult. I love that you were able to name patience and capacity to wait for the good stuff, the meaning to come to the surface. What an amazing embodiment of patience and love that you named. I think that naming goofiness was also a big winner. There is so much power in being lighthearted. And people pleasing! Gosh, I think that we are all well trained in that. I guess we will all have to keep our hearts and heads together on that. Maybe we can grow together?
It’s been a delight to study with you.Oh boy! This is the good stuff isn’t it?
My strengths in teaching are firstly, that I’m such a determined student and the great joy and sense of belonging I get from being a student gives me a sense of belonging. Secondly, I have a lot of faith in the structure and the timelessness of this practice. I recognize that there have been so many teachers and students over so many years that are all committed to preserving and sharing this wisdom. Thirdly, I love teaching, organizing resources and planning classes/events. I enjoy the beautiful way we can connect with each other within the context of this practice. Teaching gives me satisfaction and a profound sense of purpose. Another strength is that I truly love humans and am learning along the way, to be patient, to see goodness and effort, to recognize that we are all carrying our own tender broken heart. All of this is a constant evolution.
It’s hard to limit my list of personal challenges (which seem endless). Maybe this is where I should start? I don’t really feel insecure, as in being an impostor. My years of study and practice have inspired me and filled my being with theory, ancient wisdom, experiences, (lots of) questions, and ways of exploring. After so many years of teaching (which has been a huge gift), I feel confident and when my words fail me or my words fail, I know that if I just take a few more breaths or make fun of myself (warmly) I’ll be able to get my bearings again. I feel insecure in a darker way. It’s deeper sense of feeling like I am wrong or boring, or wasting words by saying too much. I often hurry and worry. I put immense pressure on myself to say the right thing, use the correct language, and to be more correct or sensitive when others are sharing. The front of my brain knows that this isn’t really true in the present situation. The gift of time helped me to recognize that my insecurity is very much rooted in my family conditioning. I grew up as a constantly criticized, middle child who was charged to be the codependent kid who held my mom together. Of course I’ve done a lot of work around this, yet it remains a quiet coping mechanism and distraction in the background of my thinking.
It seems like each of my strengths and each of my challenges are counterpoint to each other. One is the light side and the other is the dark side of the same issue. My strengths and challenges point in the same direction, to the truth in my heart that this practice is so important, and each person I encounter on this journey is so important. I cherish this awareness.
Oh Lianna, your example illustrates perfectly how it’s so painful to come through to compassion for ourselves and others. I recognize this vigilance in myself too, looking to see that I matter, that I am valued. But, what an awesome example of boundaries that you learned through your vulnerability. It’s so beautiful that you were able to move through that resentment and turn to appreciation and compassion.
<3Thanks for your care, Lianna. Yes, the week was really beautiful, loving as well as horrible and heartbreaking. I would still do it all again. <3
Wow, Jana. It’s so lovely to see what I wrote reflected back. Thanks for that. It was a very intense week, but thankfully, the folks that were attending, were really with me in heart too. It was beautiful.
I would love to do/have/create a discussion group with you (and others, too). How beautiful would that be? Let’s do it.I was comforted by Susan’s explanation of her experience of “Retreat Magic”. The sweet presence that comes after quiet dedicated study, the feeling of love/tenderness that comes from being present to others, and the supportive tidiness of schedule was evocative of experiences of leading and being on retreat. Susan wrote her words so clearly that I understood and warmly felt her meaning.
“There is an important non-parity between student and teacher.” & “ I am absolutely no different than any of them.”
I have often felt loneliness. I have felt it throughout my life, maybe not for any particular reason, or maybe it’s an inherited trait. But, the loneliness I have felt as a practitioner and teacher has been quite confounding. As a practitioner, I kind of understand it because socially I am on my own. My husband, kids, parents and most of my friends don’t relate, and they definitely don’t want me to talk about it as much as I want to talk about it. As a teacher, this loneliness was a mystery because I was sharing the work and sharing was so satisfying to me, it filled my heart up. I did recognize the other part where the sharing was sort of one-sided and required a lot of focus and determination.
“This loneliness creates an interesting crucible, one which requires further discipline to both maintain and blend in to the environment correctly. It -what I am feeling about myself, them, and the work-cannot be held separate from the work as it is the channel for connection…” This is illuminating! This loneliness and what I am feeling, is the container but it’s also the space inside the container. This space is the wiggle room for processing and connection. Thank goodness.
Every word of the rest of the essay pierced my heart, bringing back the memories of the year I was so fortunate to arrange and lead a 5 day kayaking and meditation trip through The Broken Islands on the outer west coast of Vancouver Island. I was so excited as I prepared our little booklet (journal), picked out pens and pencils for everyone. Each day was laid out with a gentle schedule, poetry and koans, and introductions to our practices.
Unthinkably, five days prior to the trip, my meditation teacher, Michael, died. He was kept on life support until the day before the trip when his organs were donated. I was heartbroken. This was like no loss I had ever experienced.
The next morning, the participants arrived at the beach where we were to launch from, our gear was gathered and we set about our first practice perched on big water soaked logs. I opted to share the news of Michael’s death as a few of them knew and had practiced with him. They were touched by my sharing, the folks were lovely, not too fussy with me, and we got on with our journey. Throughout our trip I took plenty of time away from the group and guarded my evenings, where I cried and tried to catch my breath. Sometimes there was cell service and I could connect with my sangha friends. I felt scattered and bereft. It was awful and amazingly beautiful. All through these days, what happened was gentle synergy. Our kayak guide managed our travels and our needs, the booklet reminded me what was at hand, my deep grief made me even more determined to be true to the form and wisdom of our practice, and the students understanding let me be a little more patient with my tears. The Along our way, we had some extremely beautiful practices and experienced connection as a sangha.
Through the experience of losing my teacher, I was how everything changed and nothing changed. The clarity of the teachings are the scaffold and love is the determination, the force that keeps my momentum. I painfully learned that this practice is alive, it doesn’t depend on any one person.
There was a fellow on this journey who was a long time Buddhist practitioner and teacher. He was a good person with a big heart (he still is) who said super offensive things (he still does). It wore thin, he felt alienated that no one liked his humour. How did it colour my responses? Well, firstly, I bristled, then a couple of times I had to quietly remind him that we weren’t his usual social group and that his language was too much. I had to talk with a few of the others about their struggles with him. It was mostly group management, after that, I felt awkward, but we just continued on our way. (Haha) Maybe it should have been a silent retreat….. ; )
How’d it go? It hurt, it was scary, but it was all quite beautiful.
Thanks for your thoughtful essay Eleanore,
“the process of action or karma is connected with something real, the reality of the situation rather than some imaginary quality.”
The concept of connecting with something real is such a relief to me. It feels better to work with what has substance.
I appreciate your clarity around the way that meditation is perceived and the way some meditators represent their vibe as blissed-out or disconnected.
I also love the way you pointed to the way real compassion has movement, like the breath. I can feel that.
Hi Christine,
Thanks for sharing your thoughts. Parenting is the big one for me too. These humans just matter so much and somehow that tips me over into reacting and doing too much or getting too involved. It the thick of it, I forget to just wait, to listen. It’s so hard.
I also loved the tree analogy. It made me think of the corruption and heartbreak in our lineages. There is a brilliant yoga nidra teacher who, after I had devoured his theory and teaching, I learned was a vile, vile person.
Since then, I have not even looked at his book or taught in his technique, but maybe I don’t have to unroot the whole tree? I am thinking about it. I am not quite ready yet.Wow. I found there to be so many useful examples and definitions in this article by Chogyam Trungpa. When I look at these deep subjects and read the amazing wisdom in the articles, I find that I am a very slow processor. My own thinking takes a long time to gel into something useful, so I feel very thankful for everyone who shared at Thursday check-in and for your wisdom in what is being shared in the forum.
This concept of the Action (Karma) of compassion and Compassion-gone-wrong or Action-mis-applied (Mara) has deepened the complexity (but also simplicity) of how I am thinking about compassion. I think this teaching is asking me to be clear about my intensions when I am engaging with my family, friends and clients/students, to act in a way that brings dignity to the person and the situation.
As I read through the article, I found the wisdom of the Karmas so inspiring and orderly, but maybe a bit shapeless without the shadow of their maras. Like the two aspects together create the form, the structure, or the rules of engagement. Pacifying, Enriching, Magnetizing all sounded like nice, easy going kinds of qualities – which I like quite a lot! – but, I can see and feel how without their counterpoint quality, they stay is the touchy-feely, spiritual bypassing category, which feels risky.
By the time Chogyam Trungpa got the fourth karma, destroying, I thought “This is all about BOUNDARIES! This is still teaching the Container Principle!” What a revelation. Without boundaries our compassion can become UN-wise, it can become Idiot Compassion. Through our practice, our hearts grow and develop the capacity to hold, to share in heartbreak. Alongside this, we need to grow in other, sustaining ways. Ways that help us to keep our bearings and be useful, present and supportive, but not take on a fix it role.
Idiot is not really a word that I use, but I see that it’s harsh nature is well suited to this lesson.
The way that the last paragraph summarizes these concepts is like the Yin-Yang symbol. That each of the karmas has a shadow (or negative) side is just a representation of the whole, the completeness of any given moment. These opposing qualities actually bring clarity and form to whatever is coming up, whether it is conflict, grief, or some other conundrum. The two aspects together allow for continued flow. To flow, we need to be consistent, reliable, and present, if we are investing our energy in giving too much, we cannot be any of those.
As for in my own life, I know I get it wrong so often. I tend to get it wrong with my family and it seems that learning is slow. Maybe with this extra awareness, and support of this enduring teaching, I will tap into some of that flow and not have to course correct, (apologize) as much! Maybe. Hopefully.
“As the false drops away, then the situation develops beyond it. Your energy leads beyond it, so finally the false brings us to the truth. In other words, you can’t have truth itself alone. Truth as opposed to what? Truth as opposed to false. So the false is as much true as lie; it is as true as the truth, in this case—which is a very strange conclusion to come to. And similarly, negativity is very much as positive as positives are positive. So the action of the four karmas of pacifying, enriching, magnetizing, and destroying plays an important part in this process of working with these materials and with the four types of temptations, or maras.”
I feel thankful for Susan’s clear instructions in this valuable module and appreciate the video on The Three Rs of trauma informed practice.
These Four Rs can provide a tidy container for organizing our thoughts around our approach to teaching and they feel like The Four Immeasurables in action.
I think that I was always aware of trauma, probably because I saw that my family had struggled for being in situations, or relationships that weren’t of their choosing. My mom’s family were children and grandchildren of the Indian Residential School system here in Canada which left deep scars on their autonomy, identity, and comfort in all aspects of their lives. In 2011, I decided to continue my education, to become a Yoga Therapist. As part of these years of study, one of their core subjects was teaching Trauma Informed Yoga and even before I looked into what that really meant, I knew it was important. Since that time, I’ve done other workshops in trauma informed practice because it’s essential and so relevant in the community at large, especially in the arena of yoga and meditation.
The first R (realize) is to simply recognize the reality that trauma is pervasive coming to us through all kinds of experiences including injury, medical treatment, as well as relational harm. Simply through the journey of life, most of us experience trauma at some time and this can create lasting change. Not all trauma leads to PTSD. When I took that first Trauma Informed Yoga workshop, I was certain that I was doing this work for others; my sister, my mom, and people “like them”. I looked at the effects of their complex trauma and didn’t even think of myself, even though I have had some scary, deeply upsetting experiences that still linger and make me pause sometimes. That took time to realize in myself. Most importantly for me as a teacher is to make an environment that is secure and comfortable. I aim for class space to be physically safe, have enough light, not too crowded, and tidy. I do play music, but I keep it quiet. The doors are always locked during session and most windows are covered with blinds. This I feel is the best starting place. In my instruction, when new folks are present I give the “permission to take care of yourself” talk. I use invitational language, always give options for what to do without using hierarchical language (easier/harder, beginner/advanced), autonomy to do their own thing, and I really mean it. Like Susan’s teacher who said the most important thing is to give the student confidence in your leadership.
The second R (recognize) is a little trickier. It’s useful to have a list of “symptoms” like jumpiness, sweating, rapid breathing, freezing or gapping out. Yet, lots of my clients have pretty sophisticated coping mechanisms to keep themselves out of the spotlight so sometimes I hear about the things that came up at another time. With deep held experience, can come deep held responses as well. It took seeing others go through their process to realize the same symptoms in myself. In my pranayama practice stress shows up in breath that just can’t shift or settle. In my meditation practice, I notice that I can be gapping out and recognize this as my little side trip that keeps me from being present.
The third R (respond) is all about connection. When I see that someone is struggling, I check in with them discretely (without assuming that I know what they are going through), reminding them where the bathroom is or the water to drink. I will send an the student an email or check in with them before the next class to see if there is anything else needed. When I have my own moments, I give myself time. I know it’ll pass, so I let myself pause, I might ask myself what I was thinking of or what stimulus caused me to drift away from the present. I also talk with good people that I can be transparent with.
The fourth R (avoid Re-traumatizing), that’s the culmination of our best effort. To avoid re-traumatizing, I never ask the student to explain themselves and I let them know that their presence is appreciated in class, so we can adjust what is needed so that they can feel more supported in their practice.
As for me, I am firmly committed to this approach as a modality for sharing self inquiry, and I believe that the person is the most important subject, not the specific practice, technique, or posture acknowledging that we are changing moment to moment. This has been hugely liberating and resulted in being known as a safe place for all kinds of folks.
Hi Rena,
Thanks for your wisdom and reflections on this very important angle of practice, as well as the link to the longer training. (I will enjoy checking it out.) Also! Thanks for the great idea to put a “trauma sensitive guide” on the website. I think that type of a guide is really relevant and inclusive, especially in our world today.Thanks for your warm and beautiful thoughts on this tricky subject Kate. I adore the Carl Jung quote! (“learn your theories well, but put them aside when you touch the miracle of the living soul.”) I especially appreciate the words “miracle” & “living”. They are a comforting reminder that each precious person is unique & dynamic, not theoretical.
