Erin Anderson
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Erin Anderson
ParticipantHi T,
Thanks for your candor about your current experience. I appreciate how you’ve illuminated the chain of connection between pain and fear. Before this very moment, I hadn’t noticed that pain and fear go together in my own experience. I feel encouraged to be brave and peak into mine too.
Wishing you the very best.Erin Anderson
ParticipantHi Eleanore,
I hear ya! That inner dreary-ness can sure be a bump in the road. I have found it to be kind of beautiful to watch that situation shift over time. I forget about the word grace… I think it’s totally on point. Grace definitely grows with meditation. Thanks for the reminder.Erin Anderson
ParticipantFirst of all, I am so excited by the topics we have covered the last few weeks. I have to say that this conversation about emotion and difficulty is THE reason I am here. I am so encouraged by this course and by how Susan is sharing this Vajrayana path.
This has been my constant search through the last 10 years of my practice.
My main education has been yoga, wonderful yoga whose practices tend to softening our hearts and creating friendliness with our bodies. Yet, through much of this I have found judgemental ideas about others and warm-hearted compassion to be conditional. By this I am meaning that folks who are honest and share their difficult emotions or are going through illness or challenging times are judged for their choices rather than met with true compassion. To me, much of the teachings seem to reflect a person’s privilege and are charged with spiritual bypassing.I was recently with a teacher that I respect deeply. He is a wonderful, wise, and loving yogi. He was asked about emotion, because we were talking about ease and lightness and the natural happiness that arises from practice. The person who asked was clearly sad and said what are these other emotions for? What is the good of them? What do we do with them? I was saddened by his answer, because he had a moment in which he could meet his student meaningfully. Instead, he very seriously said something about avoiding these emotions because they create longing and colour our field of vision.
It’s a bummer. I want to do better, to be more human with my fellow humans in a practical and elastic way. I want to be useful.
My example of how meditation has supported my experience of difficult emotions is not about a particular incident, though of course there have been many of those. My example is of the general sort of low-lying sadness that I sometimes carry in my heart and mind. Some of this sadness feels useful, like a unifying force to share with others. Some of this sadness is dull and featureless, just a murky drudgery that I carry along as a way of being. When sadness is lurking in my life, I know that it’s not the whole story and it makes it so that I feel for others when their sadness lurks too.
Meditation has helped me find my way through sadness by showing me that “nothing lasts (ever)” and that “I am more than one thing at any given time”. This lovely sort of patience developed slowly over the years through situations that came up while I was practicing. Situations like when I experienced the very worst itch any person has ever felt while meditating, or the most gruesome knee pain, or maybe something nice like the glory of the sun breaking through the clouds to shine on me. I learned, over and over again, that I survived the itch, the knee pain passed, the sun went back behind the clouds it was still a good day. Little by little, urgency to fix myself gave way to a more patient pace, and I began to experience more comfort while I was uncomfortable because I knew it would pass. It would be mostly ok, though I felt sadness, I didn’t resign to hopelessness.
Meditation highlighted for me that though I was experiencing an intense moment, that discomfort wasn’t the whole event. If there was knee pain, there was also breath. If there was some great big worry, it was love that was the thread of connection to that worry. Meditation reminded me that there is always more, there is also stillness, aliveness, friendliness. I can feel sadness, but still feel aliveness and love.
This so important because it shows that we are truly the same. It is important because it prepares me to get up and help.
Erin Anderson
ParticipantThanks for sharing Gwen,
I don’t know a lot about Byron Katie’s work, but have been introduced to a few concepts and appreciate the ways she highlights perspective shift. It’s been so helpful for me to clarify what’s happening and whether I truly need to get invested in it. Your story demonstrated that pivot in thinking, the way our story changes with our circumstance.
I am sorry you have been sick, gosh, it sounds like it’s been a long haul. I *hope* that you feel supported and loved on your journey.Erin Anderson
ParticipantThanks Rena, I really appreciate the way you have re-framed public speaking. Even though I speak publicly frequently, I hadn’t thought of not making it about me. hahahaha Thanks for sharing your journey.
I see this is a delightful opportunity. I also love the metaphor of diving under the water, becoming part of the flow. Dissolving.Erin Anderson
ParticipantThis reading was crammed full of useful stuff and so inspiring to me. It definitely got my brain going!
Letting go of self. This is a lot. I don’t really know what this means. I hope that it means something like, “I recognize that through practice I have resources and these resources are meant to be shared, not out of my own individual goodness or desire, but because its needed, when I do that, I feel happy.”
I find this an elusive topic because I have got all kinds of ego, not that I think I am great, but there always seems to be a pre-set idea that leads me to my next idea in all sorts of aspects of my life and relationships. In practice, maybe it’s quite straightforward, even simple. I might not have been able to make any sense of this concept, except that Chogyam Trungpa hinged the whole idea on experience, on “action”. It sounds to me like he was saying that it is when we show up with our hands to help, our feet on the ground, our heart/minds to truly connect with each other/ our community that we are in a position to share. I loved the analogy of sewing the meditation cushion to our pants. There is nothing subtle about that! It is such a tangible image that with our meditation cushion sewn onto our pants, we are engaging with the same awareness we are cultivating when we sit for our own selves. So, maybe we aren’t really sitting for our own selves? Our sitting practice is not only about our individual practice, but is equally about what happens next, who we will see, and how we show up.
This reminds me of the Lo Jong practice, which provides me with endless cues to keep at it, don’t settle in and get too comfy. The Lo Jong slogan that comes to mind is #16. “Whatever you meet unexpectedly, meet with meditation”. It’s saying “Look! This is it!”
But, really, when the need for action shows up, I rarely think so structured. I just think “How can I help? What can I do?”
One of the real to my life moments that came to mind, was when I was a brief interaction with a woman who was clearly altered by drugs, she had a healing black eye, and torn bags of her belongings were falling to the sidewalk as she was trying to ride her bike. She was yelling at the foodbank, yelling at the stuff falling everywhere as she tried to get back on her bike, and yelling at life. I was getting out of my car and saw that she was heart broken, but really just needed some new bags so that she could get back on her bike. She needed a lot of the basic necessities of life, but truly, right now, she needed bags for her stuff. So, offered her some grocery bags, and looked at her right in her eyes. She said yes and picked up her things. She didn’t have much to say, but she wasn’t yelling the same way as she left.
I certainly didn’t offer her anything deep. Our interaction, my gesture, was so small, so simple. I don’t think it was the bags, either. I think that the best of this moment was just that we slowed down, we looked at each other and connected as people, that we were so very different, but the same.
Erin Anderson
ParticipantThe painful season that I chose is an episode that is over, yet still catches my breath and grips my heart from time to time. I am very aware that we are all telling the 500 word essay version of the story.
For years I helped my yoga teacher, my friend, build a business. We built a wonderful yoga community into a thriving business. This yoga studio was hers. Eventually though, my friend wanted to sell her studio to me, but I was hesitant to take it on because the business was based in my teacher’s home.
A fellow yoga student, a friend of my teacher’s, said that she was looking for a change of career from finance and she was excited to partner up and make the transition happen. So, we did it. We bought the studio, moved it to a busy street corner in our town, and we set about beginning again. It didn’t take long before I saw that my new business partner was raw, unhinged. In our dealings as partners, she was aggressive and physically threatening. When our yoga teacher was present, she showed herself as friendly and a thoughtful partner. On the surface she appeared vulnerable, to our clients she appeared childlike, naïve. However, when we were together working out the details of our business, she was mean and controlling. At the time, I didn’t realize that she was actually quite insecure and was using alcohol to cope. This led to manipulative and angry outbursts.
During this time, I felt scared with our day-to-day interactions and betrayed by my partner and my teacher. My heart broke. I developed anxiety and a sense of dread about my life and this work. I had excellent friends who were so supportive, and I could tell the truth too, but felt if I took steps to break the partnership, I would be responsible for hurting our community. Covid came along and we opted to closed our studio. In a way, this was a welcome relief. It conveniently made most of the problem go away. Most of the problem was solved, but still, I have this heart that feels a profound sense of loss, feels jealousy knowing that my former partner has easily absorbed friendships that I nurtured over the years.
Nowadays, I am aware of both the sadness about losing that wonderful studio and the appreciation of what I have built anew and the relationships that have continued.
What I have learned from this experience is listen to my heart when it speaks, because I had reservations early on. I have also refined my boundary setting (they are rock solid now). Through all this pain, I also learned to see the source of my former partner’s behaviours. Eventually, even in the thick of it, I saw that she was constantly scared of doing the wrong thing (getting disapproval) that she tightened up and couldn’t move. Her anger was protection. In this way, I think that we are all the same.
I also recognize that when we hurt in this way, there are elements that don’t completely resolve. That we continue to carry these pieces of our stories in our little broken hearts.
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Erin Anderson
ParticipantHi Helene,
Thanks so much for sharing your story of heartbreak and dreams that won’t come true. I see that in your process of coming back, you had deep compassion for others and that grew in you for yourself.
Your phrase “This experience made me very porous to the pain of others.” rings so true for me too. Porous. Such a great word to paint the picture of how connected we are to each other, to what we feel collectively and individually.
Thanks again.Erin Anderson
ParticipantThanks for sharing Lianna. I heard the warmth in your voice as you told of your connection to your friend and the teachers who have supported your practice (including the lawnmower and the hill, of course). You wrote about something quite nice, that I hadn’t really considered in those terms. You mentioned the pleasure you found in the effort of upkeep at the monastery and the longing that you feel to embody the qualities that you see in your teachers. I loved it because somehow it sounded like more threads of lineage. It sounded like the part where you weave yourself into the fabric of your lineage.
It was really beautiful.Erin Anderson
ParticipantThanks for sharing this piece of your journey, Eleanore. I found it lovely that you connected your experience of coming to meditation to your experience of self discovery, coming to what your unique queerness meant.
I appreciate your reflection of Susan’s words about being certain and that certainty as a barrier. It seems to make so much sense that the tighter a grip that we have on the essence of something, the less essence there can be.
<3 The words from your last sentence were just perfect “the magic of “not knowing” joyousness, feels really powerful and great space from which to continue growing my practice.”Erin Anderson
ParticipantWell, my goodness! I have truly appreciated this week’s reflection.
At first, the topic seemed like a daunting excavation, but to y surprise, it became very beautiful.
Up until now, when I considered my own personal sense of lineage, I felt a sort of lack or homelessness or even like the history of my practice wasn’t valid compared with folks who have a personal relationship to their teacher. Thankfully, though, I found Susan’s presentation about lineage to be kind and inclusive. This has led my thoughts in a kind and comforting direction as well.
I feel very inspired by thinking of the meaning of lineage as quite broad. It seems like it’s much more than a historical list of people. Perhaps lineage is also the resonance of practice through the ages. How can I feel alone knowing there are thousands of years of practitioners sitting behind me and with me? Perhaps lineage is found in the ripple of specific practices that have familiar structure and clear steps to follow like countless practitioners. I also feel lineage as friendly accountability through our heartfelt relationships. Relationships to teachers, to the communities that we learn and practice in, as well as the relationships we have through the roles that we play. Certainly, my best friend is one of the most spiritually challenging and accountable relationships of my life. (Her name is Karen and she is an earth angel.)
When working with this week’s homework of practicing Offerings, Requesting Blessings, and Dedicating Merit, I had the strong sense that these are all elements of connecting to lineage. It’s the same thing!! “Offerings” connect me to the past through acknowledgement and gratitude. “Requesting Blessings” connect me to the present as I take part in the formation of lineage, an act of taking my place in the order of things. “Dedicating Merit” is connecting to the future through letting go.
Lineage is the generous handing on of practice.
What I feel has been uncovered is that we can’t be without lineage, and because of this, I recognize that there is no way I can ever feel alone in my practice again. For thousands of years, this practice has been taught and with each lesson, our connections widen to include many leaving this beautiful map, like the stars in the sky. We are connected to this practice, woven in.Erin Anderson
ParticipantHi Tracey,
It sounds like this time in your life is incredibly challenging. Thanks so much for sharing your journey. The wisdom of making friendly connection to the pain that you’re dealing with is moving. I see that it’s a bold, courageous to travel the path of keeping it real, to open your heart.
with gratitude,
ErinErin Anderson
ParticipantThe Buddha’s Noble First Teaching by TULKU THONDUP RINPOCHE
The First Noble Truth – there is suffering
“Buddhism first asks us not only to see the momentary and suffering
character of the world, but also to have tolerance in accepting
suffering as natural and not negative.”I really love summer, it’s my favourite. I love the slower pace of a quieter schedule and hanging in the garden. This summer, however, was long and relentless. It might have gone un-discussed, but friends and clients kept saying, “Hey! How was your summer?” I was reluctant to answer but, I tend to be pretty honest about these things, so I told them the truth.
Thankfully, it’s been a while now since I got the memo (the teaching) that “in this life there is suffering” and that my response to what is happening adds the negative or the positive element. In fact, one of my favourite Buddhist stories is the Two Arrows. It’s so helpful to know that a good deal of what hurts when I suffer is extra layers of story and meaning, that don’t have to be added into the mix.
When folks asked about my summer, I would tell them that this summer was pretty rough. I was glad it was over. Along the way, the challenging times were mixed with the sparkle of delights and good times. I would tell them, that we are all ok now, but it was a tough one.From May to September went like this:
My mom needed surgery. (bad) Surgery went well. (good) Mom became very ill after surgery and needed to stay longer in the hospital. (bad) Mom came home with her health stabilized, but not really improving. (good?) Eventually, I got to sneak away and go for a very restorative kayak trip with my brother to The Broken Islands, in Tseshaht Territory. This trip was incredible in many ways. Being in nature with people that I loved was a slow motion, healing journey. (very good) Mom went into heart failure. (very bad) She got the care that she needed and finally began to improve! (very good) My brother stayed for a visit, (so good) but was drunk for the last few days because my mom is a lot to handle at the best of times. (bad) I went camping for a couple of days, with my challenging dog, who did very well with his training. (So good) The next week, my dear dog bit someone. (bad) I started my summer session of yoga classes. (so good!) Then, I became very sick for three weeks and had to cancel my classes. (bad)I could go on, but I won’t, because this is just the Summer Highlights Reel.
When I share with folks my impression of the summer, it’s just to honour (for myself) that it was challenging and required more effort than I was hoping for. None of this is to say that I am good at having “tolerance in accepting suffering as natural and not negative”, as Tulku Thondup says. Plus, we are all here, we made it through. My mom, my dog, and me too. This makes it a good summer, or ‘good enough’.
All of these events have their own story, their own life of suffering, their own painful presence. But, all of these stories have really beautiful moments of heartfelt connection, of nature’s immense beauty, and syncronicity.“After happiness comes suffering. After suffering arises happiness.
For beings happiness and suffering revolve like a wheel. —Nagarjuna”Erin Anderson
ParticipantThanks Kelly. I truly appreciate your candor about the intensity if information shared in this article. I was feeling like I was on the outside of the wisdom here while enjoying Tulku Thondup Rinpoche’s deep understanding. I even said to my family, maybe I need stronger glasses. But, now I sit here, just marinating in the wisdom and waiting for the glimpses of understanding in myself. Waiting.
Thanks again. If you hadn’t written from your own heart, I might still feel like I’m on the outside.
warmly,
ErinErin Anderson
ParticipantWow, Anne. I really appreciate your squirmy-ness around the trite use of the word devotion and your reframe to “real open heartedness”. This reframe feels fresh. I also love the chance to look back at the language and culture where these concepts began, so mogu as inspiration and respect sure feels much more grounded to me. Thanks for that!
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