Rosie
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Kat – all those “ifs” in your last paragraph – from what I’ve seen of you in class, all of those things are manifested. Especially your personal warmth – that’s so strong that I feel it, even through the little square on my laptop! I think anyone who is lucky enough to receive instruction from you will absolutely feel all of that, and feel welcomed in.
The question I’ve been asking myself is: Do I feel ready? I feel ready, in the sense that I have been preparing, i.e. learning and practicing. But preparation is by definition something we do beforehand. Readiness feels more like willingness to go ahead and do it, knowing that there’s no such thing as complete preparedness/mastery/competence.
It reminds me of how I felt as a new therapist – so strongly aware of my inexperience. I was really looking forward to having been a therapist for 10 years, so I’d have the confidence in my competence/abilities/intuition. Now, 20+ years in, I have that strong confidence, as well as the accompanying curiousity/humility that feeds it.
So I’m ready and willing to begin offering instruction, and looking forward to increasing confidence.Lauren, I appreciate the thoughtfulness of your answer, and the clear commitment to living/teaching in a way that’s consistent with your values.
This is something that I’ve thought a lot about in my work as a therapist. I love my work, and would do it for free – if I could afford that. But I can’t, so I have to charge money for it. Of course, it’s complicated. If I charge too much, then there are folks who don’t have access. If I charge too little, then I can’t survive. So – a middle way. There are lots of ways to manifest a middle way. My way is to do a combination of things – I accept insurance, even though it’s a pain in the butt, and they don’t pay very well, so that folks who aren’t wealthy get to have therapy. I have a sliding fee scale for folks who don’t have, or choose not to use, insurance. And I have a pro bono slot for those who have neither insurance nor funds.
My vision of how I’ll offer meditation instruction is different, because I’m not thinking of it as income-producing, but as a volunteer offering. When I learned to meditate, it was in an MBSR class, which was quite expensive for me at the time. The teacher offered a free intro/Q&A session, and that allowed me to see what a good fit it was for me. Had she not offered that, I would probably not be here today. So my goal is to offer free instruction, so that folks who’ve never been exposed to it can have an experience of it, and have their misconceptions cleared up. I’m lucky enough to live at the beach, where there are new vacationers coming and going every week, and I’m planning to offer free instruction on the beach once or twice a week.
That said, I don’t have judgments about how others choose to offer instruction. Different students need different options, and different teachers need different practices.Kat, you had me at “in order to feel it, I also know I have to bring it.” And then I got to your experience of Grateful Dead concerts and laughed out loud. I’ve been to countless Dead concerts and share your sense of the warmth, kindness, and magic there. (My house at the beach is named Grateful Dunes.) And I really appreciate the insight that “it’s my own mind that creates the least ideal learning environment” – this is something I will be working with. Thank you!
Glenn, what an interesting life you have led! And you write so beautifully about it. I was particularly struck by the experience of staying quiet in deference to the “experts”, and being told that was “false humility”, withholding fresh thoughts. I find this inspiring and encouraging. Thanks for sharing your stories!
My ideal learning environment experience: In 2005, I took a Mindfulness-Based Stress Relief course. It was 8 weeks, 2.5 hours each week. It was a small group, about eight women, and the teacher was very gentle, funny, and wise. The space was the upstairs room of a bookstore called Breathe Books, very cozy and good vibes.
My less than ideal learning environment experience (ooh, is that an understatement!): In 2013, I signed up for a 10-day Vipassana retreat. We weren’t allowed to speak or even make eye contact with anyone. The schedule was grueling. The lodgings were such that I became severely sleep-deprived, to the point where on the fifth day, I was practically hallucinating, and I decided I needed to leave. They had taken our phones and car keys upon arrival, and when I went to tell a staff person that I needed to leave, she told me that I had to get permission from the teacher before they’d give me my keys and phone back! This colored my experience of meditating to the point where I took months before I was willing to sit again. (I know that many people have wonderful experiences with Vipassana retreats, and find it very valuable. It just wasn’t right for me.)Virginia, I had a similar experience when I was a brand new therapist. Something that helped was that, after seeing a client over whom I worried too much, I’d go walk a labyrinth. And that would remind me that I’m walking my path, and they’re walking their path. And I can’t walk their path for them, I can only walk mine. And where our paths intersect (in the therapy room) is where I can offer something.
Elizabeth, what I hear you pointing to is the value of being in one’s role, whether that’s teacher/ student, therapist/client, etc. Then the boundaries are clear. And the boundaries get confused and blurry when the roles are shed, as you so clearly described.
[This was a tough question for me to answer, because while I have a lot of thoughts about it, I don’t have anecdotes to share. And when I put my thoughts down, they looked too lecture-y. A lot of deleting and rewriting happened, and I’m deciding that this will have to be good enough.]
I haven’t had these experiences as a teacher or student, but as a therapist it’s something that I have to be consistently vigilant about. Usually I’m comfortably in the “not too tight, not too loose” stance. But sometimes I have the feeling that a client is somebody who, in other circumstances, would be a friend, and then I have to be careful to not slide into too friendly. And sometimes a client is somebody with whom I initially have trouble connecting, and then I have to be careful to not be too remote.
Too much friendliness sometimes manifests as too much self-disclosure. Judicious use of self-disclosure can be extremely valuable, but it’s a slippery slope. The trick is finding the middle ground, and it’s different for everyone. The most useful advice I’ve received is to know exactly why you’re offering it – is it useful for them, or is it for you?Yes! And… as I sit here on hold with an insurance company (listening to what sounds like somebody’s kid playing Fur Elise over and over again), I’m practicing Patience, by picking up my knitting, so at least I’ll get an inch of sock out of sitting on hold. And of course, my mind keeps wandering to what music I’d rather be hearing (The I’m Stuck on Hold Again Blues?) and what I’d rather be doing (anything) and then I remember to come back to the present moment, where I’m sitting in a comfortable chair, knitting with beautiful yarn. And it occurs to me that maybe all of the Paramitas, all of the wisdom could be encapsulated as Keep Coming Back.