It was mid-April when we joined via Zoom for virtual forest-bathing. It would begin to get dark by the end of the session, so I decided to stay close to home and wander in my Japanese-style garden. After paying attention to all of our senses outdoors we went off to walk on our own with a suggestion that we pay attention to color.
I decided to look for the new Japanese maple leaves. I noticed even tiny buds could be both pink and green. Not only were the new leaves quite colorful, but the way they unfolded, swelled and stretched out or hung limply was most worthy of closeup inspection. I added a few photos taken in prior years to include a wider range of these tiny new leaves’ fragile-tough grace.
I once facilitated a tea and dialogue session for members of a caregivers’ support group that met monthly in my local senior center. Most of them were caring for ailing spouses. It was hard for them to take much time out for themselves, let alone take actual vacations. The social worker facilitating the group agreed that “mini-vacation” would be a good dialogue topic.
From the warm, open way they welcomed me, I suspected they already followed the dialogue guidelines – Pause, Relax, Open, Attune to Emergence, Listen Deeply and Speak the Truth. The facilitator agreed, adding that she encouraged them to speak truthfully about their suffering.
The mini-vacations they shared took place in campgrounds, on the beach and other places they remembered from actual vacations. They spoke about peace and joy and freedom to play. What they described seemed more about being and sharing than doing. It was the very simplicity that made their descriptions so moving – the basic warm human connection.
Dan Siegel, an innovator in the integration of brain science and psychotherapy notes, “Self-compassion and self-acceptance emerge quite seemlessly…from consistent, continuous and caring connections with our caregivers early in life. But they can also emerge from ‘earned secure attachment'” (page 188, Mindsight; The new science of personal transformation). He continues on page 188 explaining that with the opportunity “to feel that we are ‘inside the heart’ of another, the candlelight of love glows within and illuminates our lives.”
These caregivers were taking full advantage of the opportunity to be truly seen and held in that candlelight’s glow. It seemed to me that what they were describing could be appreciated by anyone – the warm sense of belonging with no agenda in a lovely natural spot. There was a peace to what they described but, given their circumstances, it was also quite poignant.
I got the feeling that secure attachment regardless of how it is achieved – whether through early life experience, or though courageous work – might benefit from regular tuneups. And sharing memories or visions of ideal “mini-vacations” seemed not such a bad way to do that kind of maintenance.
We crave the approval of attentive listening and what others have to say when they are revealing their true hearts tends to be inherently interesting. That kind of conversation can have both freshness and depth.
Ideally, we consider before speaking, and then we speak the truth in a way that benefits both speaker and listener. In today’s world of increasing divisiveness, we can easily underestimate how much we have in common and how much we have to gain from listening.
Heartfelt speech is always an exchange of gifts even when the conversation is strictly internal. Pausing for self-compassion when one is triggered by something that is said (including by oneself) allows time to process and release emotions and then return to listening.
When we know we are valued and respected despite our flaws, honest discussion can help us begin to work on what might be getting in our way. While seeing the impact of past conditioning can be painful and take time, changing our perspective and actions is much easier with trusted support.
With enough supportive honest sharing in our lives, we might discover that we ourselves, are the answer to the hole we are seeking to fill. Clark, Fleche, Layard, Powdthavee & Ward, in The Origins of happiness: Evidence and policy implications, VOX DEPR’s Policy Portal, share the results of large surveys they conducted in a number of countries which found that the biggest factors in life satisfaction were not economic but related to “people’s social relationships and their mental and physical health.”
Tea bowls and blackberries awaiting the arrival of a friend.
Although it might seem frivolous, I would argue that slowing down to share tea with no particular agenda is a very good idea. For one thing, as Olendzky notes, “security comes from aligning our attitudes and policies with the behaviors that will bring out the best in others, rather than doing the very things that are sure to provoke or entrench them” (Unlimiting Mind: The Radical Experiential Psychology of Buddhism, page 45).
Human lives have always been full of challenges. And these days there are good reasons to be afraid. With so much coming at us, it is all too easy to pull back into our shells and feel helpless.
Sharing tea provides a good excuse to slow down and simply be present with each other. Thich Nhat Hanh includes drinking tea among his practices for compassionate communication to “Bring you back to your true home. Don’t think. Be here, body and mind united.” (The Art of Communicating, 2013, page 150).
As you feel the warm cup, the steam rising, attune to the color and the fragrance of the tea, you are returning to sensing what is here now in real time. With senses more fully engaged, it may be easier to directly sense the not-being-alone-with-this support of simply enjoying tea together.
Humans can certainly cause big trouble. But it is also natural for us to help each other out in times of crisis. While emotional support and practical forms of help are both wonderful, there is also a place for small acts of kindness, like sharing tea. They can add so much grace and meaning to human lives.
There is something about rivers and their many moods. Perhaps it has to do how the weather affects everything or how they flow. Some, as in this case, seem to breathe with the tides inviting me to slow down and pay attention.
The photos below were taken over a number of years when I visited an Inn that was right on the Kennebunk River, In Maine, USA. Once I saw a seal stick its head out. Ducks often gathered in the early morning. Mostly I just let go into all that was before me, allowing all that radiance to seep in.
A number of years ago before COVID changed our world forever, I set up a tiny room as a place for meditation and for sharing tea. Each morning, I would go to that room, sit on a stool facing the window at one end and say “Thank you for what is needed when it is needed.” Then I would sit on the other matching stool, face the interior wall and say, “Thank you for the peace and strength that is always available.” I did this every morning for several months.
I realized there was an aspirational quality to all of this.
Joseph Goldberg says In Mindfulness; A practical Guide to Awakening, on page 384, “the consequences or results of an action are conditioned by the moral qualities of both the actor and the recipient of the act.” In this case, I was both actor and recipient and the practice seemed to both drew upon and reinforce my wish to live in ways that encouraged openness and compassion in myself and others.
There was a shift. I began to sense I was in a dialogue with the universe. I took the various forms of support that found me as signs I was on the right track with a project. It was easier to see when I needed to do some hard internal work on what might be getting in the way of my dreams. Just saying “peace and strength” connected me to something much more powerful and larger than myself, and I began to see things from a less narrowly selfish point of view.
Now that the world seems so full of suffering and fear, personal mindfulness practices, like this one, might be even more relevant. And first of all we need to stream ourselves and others all the compassion we can muster, so we can see that there are still opportunities available to take action that can make a positive difference. This can be quite close to home. In times of increasing crisis, simple things like a hug, a listening ear, or remembering to take some quiet time for ourselves can make a world of difference.
Toward the end of a silent retreat I attended, I saw the picture above hanging in the coatroom of the Insight Meditation Retreat Center in Barre, Massachusetts, USA. My Japanese tea ceremony teacher, Giselle Maya, confirmed my suspicions that she was the artist who had made that collage. She added, “I love that place and all it gave to me, all I learned in many many retreats, dharma talks, and interviews.”
I had just read the wonderful stories about Dipa Ma in Amy Schmidt’s book, Knee Deep in Grace, the Extraordinary Life and Teaching of Dipa Ma. Dipa Ma’s spirit seemed so powerful that it might still be a force actively influencing events long after her death. When I asked if Dipa Ma had been at the Barre Center when Giselle was there, she said, yes and added that “Dipa Ma was a very kind woman.” Perhaps Dipa Ma’s influence was present in the patient and kind way that Giselle taught her students the exacting art of Japanese tea ceremony.
As to my own experience on retreat, I had ample opportunity to explore feelings of familiarity. It became clear to me that while what is familiar may offer comfort, it can also be an illusion. It can be associated with a harmful false story that we take as true. On the other hand, familiarity can be a trailhead to learning something fundamental about what it means to be human. Some forms of familiarity were “just in the air” like the embodied strength of the wise teachers who instructed us, or the spirit of warm connection that was much in evidence as we joined our voices for a morning chant on the last day.
There were also moments of laughter and play during the retreat. Childlike play and silliness can cut though a lot – bringing sympathetic joy right into the middle of the strains of life – transcending familiarity and acting as a source of delight and inspiration. While being on retreat provided ideal conditions to explore my reactions to what I found familiar, I could find no reason to stop exploring this fertile ground in my everyday life.
Smiles after a 2019 Christmas Concert Where Everything Came Together (Photo by Betty Poleet)
Joyful attunement is to be expected when choir friends sing music together that they know and love. But, as I learned, it is also possible for strangers who have just spent several days intentionally not speaking with each other.
Toward the end of a 7-day silent retreat I attended, the hundred or so of us in the hall were taught a lovely evening chant. That something out of the ordinary was going on was evident in the sound. The teacher asked us to repeat the chant and it happened again.
As Linn Nagata found in her research on somatic mindfulness, “The ability to resonate or attune to another person somatically can provide a type of communication even when language differences preclude verbal communication (p. 97, Kossak, M. , Attunement in Expressive Arts Therapy).
Perhaps we had been subtly attuning via body language without knowing it, even as we avoided eye contact. Or our kind and wise retreat teachers’ influence and support was enough to get us all on the same wavelength. I could also see how a few talented individuals with unusual musical sensitivity might have acted as catalysts for the effortless attunement that had a great deal of freedom to it – like a flock of birds wheeling out patterns in the evening sky.
That this kind of group-level intuitive heartfelt intelligence is still possible provides me with hope for our troubled world.
Wasn’t it a bit early for mushrooms? I had never seen such a fuzzy yellow growth. Perhaps it was something else. When I posted a photo online, I learned it might be a young dyer’s polypore. Evidently, the timing of all kinds of things is more variable these days.
I found two. They both started out as fuzzy yellow lumps and kept changing. Dyer’s polypore seemed correct as there were certainly pores rather than the usual gills on the undersides.
I learned dyer’s polypores can be used to stain fibers a number of different colors – yellows, various shades of browns and even greens – depending on the type of fiber and how it is pretreated. This video shows it being used to dye wool lovely shades of yellow.
The first two photos below show the two I found mid-way through their cycle and the remaining photos show the changes that each went through closer in.
Young one – quite yellow and quite fuzzyBeginning to turn brownExpanding and flattening outChanging colors around the edgeGetting harder with light edgeAfter rainAnother young oneSeen from the sideA few days olderTurning colors and flattening outSeen from underneathAfter rainSeveral days laterGetting harder and drying out
Trees have taken root among the moss and lichen-covered granite outcrops in a secluded high spot in Menotomy Rocks Park. There are wide open spaces between patches of vegetation where the soil is deep enough to support larger roots.
Morning or evening are generally considered good times to capture light and shadows, but up here, the noon sun creates interesting shadows as well. This high spot with its scattered blueberry bushes and mixture of trees always seems so much more alive on a bright sunny day.
Radiant Refuge 