Liana Merrill
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As someone who started teaching very young, I wish I had come across this principle of remaining connected but separate sooner, as I think it would have been very helpful to me (and would be helpful for anyone in a teaching role, which we know is quite broad). However, as I have reflected on this week’s essay question, I am realizing that I have in a way experienced this concept throughout my teaching journey, without necessarily having the words to describe.
First, I can remember being a teaching assistant when I was in graduate school, helping with a doctorate in physical therapy anatomy class. The nature of this type of course was such that I was spending A LOT of time in the anatomy lab with these students. I was just about the same age as every student in that class, and they all wanted to be my friend. They would invite me to parties and such. Of course, I wanted to go, but I didn’t. I had the forethought to say no to “hanging out” outside of class (until the class was over, and I accepted their invitation to come to their end of class party, when I was no longer their teaching instructor). I attribute this first example to the fact that I had a “mentor” of sorts at the time – basically, a student who was a few years ahead of me in my graduate program and who I looked up to. When she had been a teaching assistant for the same class a few years prior, I had observed that she was in fact befriending her students and accepting their party invitations, and to me, this didn’t seem like the right way to go. I think I must have internalized this and it had an impact on my decision (not to be too friendly) when my turn to be a teaching assistant came around.
A few years later, as a young professor teaching the same kinds of anatomy-based, close-knit classes, I continued with this push and pull without really knowing I was playing with the notion of remaining connected but separate. I remember an example where I had to have a conversation with a student who I had been giving extra help to almost every day after class, and she still wasn’t grasping the material. After a few weeks of this, I had to have the difficult conversation that not everyone is cut out to be a physical therapist, and looking back I can almost feel the sense of wanting to help but needing to retain some sort of disconnectedness to carry out the conversation effectively – she ended up being very grateful I said what I said. A similar feeling comes to mind when I remember scolding a medical student in front of his small group of tablemates for disrespecting the body donor they were dissecting. I believe both of these examples would have been incredibly more difficult if I had been too friendly with these students, which would have been easy enough to do. It was incredibly difficult to be my students’ age, but I remember feeling a sense of pride in myself in those examples, that I remained connected but separate enough to be able to come across well in these situations.
Finally, I’d like to reflect on one more example. A small group of students once came to me during anatomy lab, saying they were having a terrible time memorizing all the names of the small holes in the skull. At first, I didn’t really know what to suggest, so I started with just listening to them and what they needed. After listening and reflecting on what they had said, I thought about my own experience and came up with an idea on the spot. They came back to me at the end of class and told me how much better they felt and how much my idea helped them. This response was so wonderful, and my knee-jerk reaction was to act friendly toward them, even befriend them, but I’m glad I resisted that urge. Instead of latching on to my impulse toward friendliness, I thanked them and later turned inward. Later that day, I reflected on the situation and on my own teaching technique, and that memory has stuck with me to this day. I believe I was practicing being connected but separate without even knowing it. And, the memory also reminded me of our teaching from the last class on emotions and how to deal with them when they come up during instruction. Listen deeply, contemplate how we feel and our own experience, let the two mix, and then respond based on what comes up, and trust yourself! I know this was long, so thanks for reading if you made it this far!Stina, thank you for your essay! As someone who wrote about exertion as the paramita I feel most disconnected from, it was absolutely refreshing to read your essay and think about this paramita in a new light, from someone else’s perspective. I now look forward to continuing to deepen my relationship with this paramita!
Hi, Melanie! I so resonated with your “instinctual drive to understand what makes others tick” and your looking forward to connecting with all kinds of people, and being a recovering people pleaser. It has been so freeing for me to finally be able to let go of the people pleaser aspect (although of course it still creeps up for me in a myriad of ways), and watch how that letting go has shaped my interactions with others. Life is wild! Thank you for sharing.
Thank you, Colin, for the beautiful sharing in your essay! I was particularly struck by “generosity is the foundation of all actions that can overcome even just the smallest part of the enormous suffering we see around us” – just, wow. If only we could plant that thought into everyone’s mind, what a place this world would be.
And just because you said this: “Absorbing the meaning of generosity helped me realize that the teaching path could be open for me” – I’m sure you will be a wonderful teacher if and when you decide to do so. It’s a joy to walk through this training with you!
It is hard for me to choose which of the first 3 paramitas I feel most connected to, because I feel very connected to all of them in different ways. Lately, I’ve been feeling extra connected to the paramita of generosity because, although I have always felt a sense of being a generous person, I have only recently been on a journey of experimenting with how to stay connected to my own richness (I love how Susan put this in class). It has been a lovely journey and one that I know will continue for the rest of my life. In a similar vein, I’ve felt extra connected to patience lately. The idea of “having no expectations” is something I reflect on more than probably any other concept of Buddhist thought I have learned. I’ve noticed myself really deepening with patience over the last few years. I notice I’m able to “let go” of things more easily than friends and family members. And they are often shocked by my what they would call “calm” reactions to things (and I think to myself, “I’m not feeling so calm, so what are they seeing that I’m not?!”).
Discipline is a paramita I wouldn’t have necessarily said I felt connected to before class on Saturday, but since then, I’ve reconsidered. Perhaps I felt this because I was feeling like my meditation practice was not as consistent as I hoped it would be leading up to the start of this class. But I was really struck by how moved Kristin was by the teachings in the last class, because as was I! It gave me a sort of lightbulb moment as I reflected on one of the 3 forms of discipline – gathering virtuous dharmas. As I have been practicing with Susan and the OHP since 2015, I have heard many of these teachings numerous times. And yet each time, I find myself hanging on each word, mesmerized by it all, all over again. I attribute this to the fact that the teachings are “always fresh” – something I think I heard Susan allude to in class on Saturday. I have always been shocked by how much I enjoy hearing the same teachings over and over, as I feel like I always hear them a different way and glean something new. To me, this is magic. In the same way, I feel I could re-read the readings for this class (particularly the last one on paramitas) a gazillion times and still never fully understand them (and also pick up something new with every read!).
Right now in my life, I feel most disconnected from the paramita of exertion. I am going through/about to go through a big work transition, part of the decision being about giving myself more time freedom outside of the work I do for income. I feel so content with the first 3 paramitas now, and I’m ready to go further into exertion, but I feel my current “work” status is at odds with this. In my mind, it’s like I have the energy but not the time I need to feel more connected to exertion, if that makes sense. But I’m looking forward to seeing how this paramita feels as I make the transition (and get on the other side of the transition). And at the same time, I’m not going to be too hard on myself about this, because I also read in our reading on the paramitas from last week that “exertion.. is having a sense of joy in, and appreciation of, your livelihood and your practice.” And I definitely feel that strongly!Lauren! I love love love that you keep a list, and gave us the great pleasure of getting to read your list! How wonderful and inspiring.
Melanie, Thank you so much for sharing that you include a picture of your 3-year-old self on your shrine! I love this idea and the joy it sparked in me. I have only recently begun connecting with my younger self on a cosmic level, as a way to remember the pure joy of being a kid. I think it has especially come closer as I have begun my journey as an aunt to 2 young nieces (2.5 years and 6 months), and they have been absolutely wonderful reminders of the joy of childhood. Thank you for inspiring me to think about the possibility of adding my own picture, whether of me or perhaps me with my nieces – something for some reason I hadn’t thought of at all! Cheers.
I so enjoyed reading your reflections on lineage, Virginia! I love the images they sparked in me. First, as someone who is child-free by choice, but who has two young nieces and who feels lately like I was born to be an aunt – it is my new favorite part of life! But what your essay brought up more for me was the absolute beauty and sense of awe I have felt by watching both my sister-in-law (who I’ve known since she was 18 and has always felt like a little sister to me) become a mom, and my mom becoming a grandmother. Words really cannot express how all our lives have changed and how messy and beautiful it all is, and I love thinking about it now in terms of lineage, so thank you for that.
And secondly, your stewardship of wild things! What a beautiful image you portrayed, and one that I feel completely connected to but never really thought about in terms of lineage, but of course! We are all connected (and maybe especially with the birds and wild things). Thank you, thank you for your words.Thank you so much for sharing your experiences, Stina, and for opening up my mind to both that I hadn’t given much thought to. As someone who has actively chosen not to bring a child of my own womb into being, I very much appreciate hearing the perspective of a lineage of mothers and your experience with that lineage. In addition, I am myself not an only child, but am married to one, and I am so often blown away or brought to tears in him sharing an experience or something I had never considered as a person with a sibling. I feel I’ve only gotten a small glimpse into what it must have been like to be an only child from my husband, and will never been able to fully know, but I so appreciate your reminder of this and of sharing your experience with this as lineage. Thank you!
Having meditated “with” Susan and been connected to the Open Heart Project since 2015, I’m sure I’ve heard Susan talk about lineage many times. But it is something I hadn’t given a whole lot of thought to until somewhat recently. More on my mind in the past was the idea of a shrine, and it’s something I thought about and built upon for years. Over the course of many years, my shrine has evolved slowly over time into something more close to my vision, starting from simply a corner of my guest room where I would meditate, to a custom table built by my husband with many cherished items adorning the top. I was close to feeling like it was “final” (to the degree where anything can be final), with the exception of one thing. Behind the table was a big, blank, empty wall. Not just anything could go there, I felt. I spent years thinking about what might best fit the space, but until last year, it continued to sit empty. In November 2024, I decided to attend a party honoring the 10-year anniversary of my aunt’s passing. I wasn’t all that close to this aunt while she was alive, but she was my mom’s eldest sister, and my favorite cousin’s mother, so I felt close to her nonetheless and like I HAD to go to this party. I hadn’t been able to attend her funeral 10 years earlier, and my 2 cousins whom I adored had dreamed up what they called “The Paige Party” to honor her. I decided to go to support them, as well as my mom, and it was here I had my first real experience with lineage. My aunt had been an artist, and the first part of the party was a social where we all just hung out and got to mingle around and view her artwork that had sat boxed away since her passing. When I came across one of her wall hangings, I was so moved by it I unexpectedly (and embarrassingly) burst into tears. I couldn’t stop thinking about the piece throughout the entire party (which included many performances and was quite long), and afterward, my uncle completely unprompted said he had seen me connecting with the art and wanted me to have it. That whole weekend, I felt more connected to my aunt than I ever had before. At the time, I almost didn’t take my uncle up on his generous offer because I couldn’t think where I would even put it, but before the weekend was over, it hit me like a wave. I would put it on the wall behind my shrine. A few months later, while attending a retreat with Susan at Kripalu and hearing her talk about lineage in the sense of requesting blessings, it all came together for me. That began my new relationship with lineage. Because around the same time I had a very random but powerful experience with a medium and my dead grandmother, when I now sit to meditate and make offerings and request blessings, I am mainly picturing my aunt and my grandmother, but they also represent this deep connection I now feel to the entire spirit world, which I am blessed to feel. This whole experience has deepened my relationship to my meditation practice, and I finally feel like I have a sense of my heart’s lineage as Susan so beautifully wrote in our reading for this week.
Hi Melanie! I was enthralled with your essay. First, in a kindred way with your similar Christian upbringing (candlelit Christmas Eve services, choir singing, etc). Then, with your father. Interestingly, my dad is also a Vietnam vet who still deals with PTSD to this day, but with a totally different religious outlook to your dad. In fact, I would say he is one of the most religious persons I know. It turned me off for a long time as I navigated my own relationship with religion, but now, as a 38-year-old, I love talking to him about religion as, in his old age, he has really branched out. He loves reading Thich Nhat Hanh books and he’s currently on his 3rd read of the Tao. So all of a sudden I find myself having these lovely conversations with him that I never in a million years would have expected. Anyway, thank you very much for sharing your personal experiences in your essay. I very much enjoyed reading it, and I look forward to continuing to be in class together.
Rosie, I resonated with so much of what you wrote. Thank you so much for your essay! For me, with a deeply religious background, the “something else” has been a bit more of a recent part of my life. But it is something that feels so close to home and that I love to continue to explore every day (part of why I’m here in this class!). And thank you so much for sharing your thoughts on labyrinths in this context! I feel a similar way, and yet it is something I hadn’t even considered when I was thinking about eternalism and nihilism, so thank you for giving me something to mull over!
I guess my first issue with my experience with eternalism and nihilism is that I have given neither much thought in my lifetime. However, my recent experience with nihilism has been a bit of frustration, mostly because I have felt like I don’t understand it much. I listen to a lot of personal finance podcasts, one of which has a host I don’t much like (so why, you might ask, do I continue listening to the podcast? Who knows). And in this particular podcast, the host brings up nihilism a lot. And it kind of always rubs me the wrong way. Maybe because I don’t much like the host. Maybe because even though he brings it up a lot, I still don’t feel like I have a good grasp on what nihilism really means.
I’m not sure I understand it anymore after our reading (I look forward to continuing to re-read this particular reading, as well as the Week 1 reading, often, because there is SO MUCH in both). But, after the reading and after our class last week and after doing a little more research into nihilism after class, I do understand better why it rubs me the wrong way. I think it’s because, for me, nihilism is just so counter to what I believe and who I feel I am. I actually think I would really enjoy talking to someone who considers themselves a nihilist just so I could ask some curiosity questions, because I deeply want to understand how one can believe that life is pointless. But I want to know more! I wish I could talk to the author of our reading…I can’t get the opening line out of my head (The nihilist point of view is one of the biggest problems for all beings). And maybe by understanding more, I can better reflect on how nihilism has shown up for me in my life. I guess I can say at this point that nihilism may have shown up for me during times of immense hardship (going through a house fire, battling depression, etc.). But even then, they were just small flickers, as even in times of trouble I’ve really always held on to my belief that life still matters. Perhaps this is because of my religious beliefs…
On the other hand, eternalism also makes me feel uneasy. Again, I have never really thought much about this until recently, but now what I do know makes me realize that this is the closest thing to how I was brought up religiously, and religion has played a huge part in my life and continues to be an immense journey for me as I navigate adulthood. I grew up going to a very progressive Protestant, Congregational, UCC (United Church of Christ) church in a small town in New England, and I also grew up in a family with parents who very much portrayed the motto “everything happens for a reason” and “God will take care of us no matter what”. I was led to believe that if I followed all the rules of my religion and was essentially a “good Christian girl” that I would go to heaven and be loved by God and Jesus forever. Now, as a 38-year-old, I still go to a very similar (if not even more liberal) church, but I have a very different relationship with religion than I did as a kid. And in fact, this relationship is ever evolving as I continually grapple with “what do I believe” and “how can I mix my personal beliefs and church”. I guess, now that I think about it, I do wrestle with eternalism more than I thought I did!
I am really looking forward to thinking even more about eternalism and nihilism as I continue on my life path as well as my meditation teacher path.Thank you, Kat, for your image of the sherpa guiding someone through the Himalayas. It made me think of my experiences as an outings leader for outdoors groups, and how those experiences may relate to teaching meditation. Something I had never really thought about before! I love thinking about how, as an outings leader, I aim to provide a safe, comfortable space for others to also enjoy the outdoors. And how each attendant comes with different backgrounds and expectations, and my job is simply to provide the container for them to have their own hike experience. I never thought about supporting discovery in my fellow hikers, but I believe on some level that is exactly what I’m doing when I lead a hike. Thank you for sharing your essay!
Thank you, Octavio, for bringing up the concept of humility here and that it’s ok not to know. It immediately reminded me of when I first started teaching anatomy at a medical school, and I began to be ok with the not knowing. I could get so bogged down and overwhelmed by all I had to teach (and thus, know) every day. When I finally realized it was ok for me to say “I don’t know”, everything changed. My confidence changed, the way I carried myself changed, the way students responded to me changed. Being comfortable saying “That is a great question, and I actually don’t know the answer either. Let’s look it up together” was transformational for me and for my relationship with my students. Thank you for bringing this up and causing me to think about it and how it might relate along the lines of teaching meditation. I’m looking forward to continuing to ponder this as we go through this training journey together.