Karen Daughtry
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To switch the focus to personal growth was so nourishing to them, and I’m sure that they carried these insights into their hearts and into the future. Well donw, Gwen.
Imposter syndrome is so insidious – and only the most honest and caring people even ever feel that way. If we were charlatans, we’d be insisting upon our superior skills, without an ounce of doubt!
thank you for your caring response, Dominic, and I am very happy to have accompanied you and all our dear colleagues here during this amazing training.
One of the gifts that I appreciate so much is my curiosity, which spurs me to research so many topics and take so many classes as a student myself. I also am fortunate to have a belief in the basic goodness of people, and always give them the benefit of the doubt. These qualities inform my current teaching (in art), and I know that they will inform my teaching of meditation.
One of my challenges has to do with vocabulary: not being sure how to best communicate. I’ve gotten more fluent over the years, especially in teaching art, and my students often will ask really good questions that spur me to invent new ways to convey the same information, which always deepens my own understanding and stretches my skill in presenting the material.
There is another severe challenge for me related to an insecurity known as “imposter syndrome.” As an art teacher, sometimes I fear that everyone in class already knows the material I’m trying to teach, and I’m just boring them. The critical voice in my head tells me that I don’t know anything special about this, and I shouldn’t be standing there telling anybody anything. When I get that feeling while teaching art, it makes me talk faster, and demonstrate things too quickly. Recognizing this shortcoming, I’m working on slowing down and sticking to my planned material – at a reasonable pace, not rushing through it. When I reason with myself, I can come to accept that I indeed do have valuable information which is important to share, and the old voices of the detractors in my head get quieter.
This tendency of mine to go through material too fast usually spurs me to “overprepare” for classes – to have notes and backup materials in case the class time exceeds my planned presentation. The added stress of preparing so carefully has caused me some headaches, but it has also resulted in a strategy, which I will describe here:
I have a Continuing class in calligraphy where the students have been with me for years, and in addition, I offer Beginning workshops. My strategy this Fall Session was to have my Beginning students study the same alphabet (Uncial) that I was reviewing more in-depth with my Continuing students. In the last session of my Beginning workshop I went too fast, racing through my prepared materials, and there was time left on the clock. To my relief, I was able to dip into the Continuing class material and fill the last part of the class with the more-advanced fare.
I’m eager to share tools for self-care and self-comfort through teaching Shamatha Vipashyana meditation, because in today’s world, the index of human suffering just went up. What a marvelous tool we have In “just feeling” the breath! It’s been wonderful to learn about it, and to learn how to skillfully communicate about it. Many thanks to our teacher, Susan, and to my fellow participants, who have all taught me so much.
Dear Jana- I appreciate when you say “We can only let our bellies and heart soften because the strong back body is there to hold us up. So it feels like idiot compassion is more or less a result of this ‘falling alseep’ in the gentleness, the niceness. And true compassion is a result of staying aware, present and awake to reality.”
This really adds to my understanding – the strength of awareness allows for the authenticity of true compassion
As you say, Lianna, Truth to Power – YES! Moral courage – YES! May we all find the strength and resources to protect one another during these strange days.
It has been of help for me to read and hear of others’ expressions around the idea of “idiot compassion,” and I thank you all for the essays and the remarks in our video meetings. I personally do not like the negative terminology that this engages, and in my mind it kind of goes into the category of the (old) series of books entitled “___For Dummies” – it was either “Math For Dummies” or “Yoga For Dummies,” or any other title they concocted. I found it to be quite demeaning, and I refused to purchase these (except for one book, which I decided to cover with a bookcover before I put it on my shelf – the author was actually an excellent teacher – Georg Fuerstein).
Yes, I can ruminate about occasions where I fell “short of the mark” of true compassion, but I prefer to give myself the benefit of the doubt and assess that the compassion that I gave was what I was capable of at the time. Truly, it was better than not acting compassionately at all.
The day my brother died (many years ago), I got a phone call from my mom that he had been taken to the hospital. I went to his house first, where my mom and neighbors were gathered, awaiting news. This was before texting and cell phones and instant availability of information – a long time ago. His wife and teenage daughters were at the hospital with him, but no one at the house had heard any news. I told the extremely anxious group that I would go over there and see what the situation was, and report back to them.
A terrible illness, ALS, had taken his mobility a few years back, and now it had taken his life. He was 47 years old. When I got to the hospital, his wife and daughters were gathered around his lifeless body, stretched out under a sheet on a gurney in the emergency room. We hugged and cried.
They all stayed at the hospital, and it was my duty to go back to the house to notify my mother and her neighbors that my brother had died. Although his demise was somewhat expected, it was still shocking. In the car, I pondered how to break this news, and I rehearsed different announcements, because I knew that when I entered the door of his house, a gathering of dear, caring people needed to hear this message loud and clear.
In my family’s religious tradition (Christian), there is the hope of Heaven and redemption, so the announcement I decided to make was tied into that hope, to soften the terrible news. I entered the room, and with a loud voice declared, “He is with the Lord.” Then I hugged my mom. She screamed so loud and so continuously that I lost part of my hearing in my left ear. She just screamed. I still kept hugging her.
To have my own emotions (which were plenty) and to INSTEAD serve the needs of those around me was an experience of utmost discipline, and love.
Oh, Kate! I could feel your mixture of emotions in this situation, through your wonderful writing. What a lot for a teenager to cope with – well done 🙂
Dear Kelly, I resonate with your thoughtful essay, and especially with the idea of “lineage consists largely of a stadium full of spirit guides and deep, dense forests” – thank you so much for your eloquent expression
To recognize the “4 Rs” in others I rely on subtle bodily cues, such as the microexpressions on the other person’s face that can fleetingly indicate distaste or aversion. If I’m asking “Are you a hugger? May I give you a hug?” and they answer “Yes,” but their facial expression looks negative, then I will hold back and say “It’s fine if we don’t hug right now, no problem.” The last thing I want to do is to add to their discomfort. Their tone of voice and verbal cues also give information about the other person’s comfort level, and if there is a mismatch between their words and their body language, it’s the body language that is usually telling the truth.
As David Treleaven describes the 4 Rs, he emphasizes that it is a life-long path of learning. Teleaven describes the 4 Rs as like four notes (like on a chord), and to approach our meditation practice with Trauma Sensitivity, we would do well to incorporate all of the four notes in our practice. Realize ( we are aware of the widespread effects of trauma), Recognize ( we are capable of detecting the symptoms of trauma in a client, student, or colleague, and these symptoms may be nonverbal or unexpressed), and Respond (we bring our interpersonal tools of empathy and language to interact in a benign way with the client or student) are the first 3 Rs, and the last R stands for Re-traumatization, which could easily occur in unskillful encounters, and is much to be avoided.
To recognize the 4Rs in myself I need to listen to the messages that my body gives me. For example, right now I’m feeling a slight pain in my right ear, which I interpret as stress. This information prompted me to sit down and write rather than going out to do yardwork, which was my original plan. Honoring the messages from my body builds trust within myself, and I believe will add to my long-term physical health and well-being.
The first time I heard the phrase “self aggression” was in this Meditation Teacher Training, and I’m very grateful to have this in my vocabulary now. It perfectly describes that tendency we all have to be judgmental and think harshly of ourselves when one part of our personality wants another part of us to do something different, usually regarding work or productivity. I think that self aggression actually traumatizes and re-traumatizes us, and the saddest thing is that we do it to ourselves. It’s so much better to have an accepting and harmonious flow between the different aspects of our psychology, body and mind.
Dear Erin, your description of that “low-lying sadness ” is so evocative – sincere thanks for your expression