in the end all we have is this the ebb and flow of breath our lives mosaics of seaweed, shells and stones
let’s not waste time arguing about who’s right but meet at the edge of our misunderstanding
in the end we can dissolve all stories of separation in sand and live in sync with Earth’s eternal heart
When I think of love, I think of Earth’s eternal heart—vast, abundant, and forgiving. Though humans drill deep holes into her core and poison her veins with oil, dump garbage and non-biodegradable substances into her belly, and kill her many living cells for pleasure, she still anoints our feet with her holy waters. She leaves gifts of seashells so we can hear her breathe, so we might connect our own breath with the breath of all life. She refuses no river, no being, regardless of ethnicity, financial status, or social decorum.
Can we learn from her infinite wisdom? Can we find comfort in the ebb and flow of her waters and live in sync with Earth’s eternal heart? I’d certainly like to try. When I’m moving too fast and the outside world feels overwhelming, I pause and listen for waves breaking against shores of silence. I connect with my breath where all stories of separation have the potential to dissolve and disappear, or at least remain dormant for some time.
Kaveri has been on a quest to find answers, not through religious texts, any particular person or popular dogma,but through her own experiences. She lives with her wonderful family in northern California where she practices medicine, meditation, parenting, yoga, writing, and patience. Kaveri's column here focuses on "Living Poetry." To find out more about Kaveri and her books/poems, please visit www.wisdominwaves.com.
The news of Papa’s second heart attack brought me face to face with the palpable truth of impermanence. As a physician I knew that life was punctuated by death, that every heart beat flat-lined as the life song of lub-dub transitioned into one continuous blaring and obnoxious beep. Still, I never considered the possibility of Papa’s life ending one day. I mean, this was the man who valued Mother Nature as much as any other Hindu deity by planning regular family visits to Golden Gate Park, Ocean Beach, Yosemite, and special trips to other national parks in the US. Papa also took Mahatma Gandhi’s life teachings as high beams to shine the light of awareness on hidden truths while driving through dark times. Why would the world want to let go of someone so precious?
After my brother left for college, Papa and I would often take long walks on Ocean Beach. Some of our deepest and most memorable conversations occurred on these walks. We’d let the sound of seagulls and surf saturate the salt air and silence when there was no longer a need for words. On one such walk after his second heart attack, Papa revealed his end of life wishes to me. I was used to discussing advanced directives with patients regularly, but wasn’t prepared to experience the difficulty of walking on uneven sand. I suddenly yearned for solid ground, some place where I could inscribe a prayer to save his life in wet cement before it dried, some place where water could not erase pretentious pleas carved in sand.
This world is so beautiful; how could I have missed it? Everything changes. Nothing lasts forever. Or does it? As the peaks and valleys of a life flat-line, perhaps it is the changing terrain of hearts left behind that matters most.
Kaveri has been on a quest to find answers, not through religious texts, any particular person or popular dogma,but through her own experiences. She lives with her wonderful family in northern California where she practices medicine, meditation, parenting, yoga, writing, and patience. Kaveri's column here focuses on "Living Poetry." To find out more about Kaveri and her books/poems, please visit www.wisdominwaves.com.
The only way to bear fear is to let it be as it must
A terrified tree in Fall willing to lose its leaves
All comfort, everything
Bare branches piercing the sky for rain
To grow new skin
Flowers and fruit thriving
From the seeds of suffering
What does it mean to open the heart? Is it opening the door to a stranger, opening to the possibility of forgiveness, or unlocking secret rooms inside ourselves we never knew we had?
For me, it is all of the above and more. Opening my heart is opening to all seasons- the warmth and chill, the lush and barren landscapes.
Of all the strangers knocking on my door, fear has perhaps been my greatest teacher. Fear is the sign at a crossroads offering the choice between the safety and wonder of here or a regretful past and uncertain future. Most of us will agree that it’s challenging to always choose the path of presence.
Opening our hearts to fear does not mean pinning ourselves to the present moment with nails of rigidity and judgments. Mindful attention and compassionate presence are enough to make our suffering bearable and beautiful. But we don’t have to go through adversity alone. Sometimes it’s more skillful to process our pain in the compassionate presence of someone who can listen without needing to fix or get rid of anything. Sometimes it’s also wise to wait till we have the resources we need to face our demons without being devoured by their darkness. We can all be winter trees, bare branches piercing the sky for rain to grow new skin, spring flowers and fruit thriving from the seeds of suffering.
When we open our doors to difficult emotions, we have the potential to expand our hearts to others who are also suffering. Our intimacy with our own hardships gives us courage to understand their adversity. When we can see ourselves in them, there is no separation. One heart beats for the wellbeing of all.
Kaverihas been on a quest to find answers, not through religious texts, any particular person or popular dogma,but through her own experiences. She lives with her wonderful family in northern California where she practices medicine, meditation, parenting, yoga, writing, and patience. Kaveri's column here focuses on "Living Poetry." To find out more about Kaveri and her books/poems, please visit www.wisdominwaves.com.
It’s easy to be grateful when things are going your way. But what do you do when things are less than ideal- when illness strikes, a job is threatened, or a valued relationship ends? Is it still possible to give thanks?
A few months ago, a dear friend and I began to exchange gratitude emails. Each day we listed five things for which we were grateful. On difficult days it was hard to come up with five things. It felt like my gratitude antennae wasn’t strong enough to detect signals of abundance and joy. Sometimes I even wondered if it was broken!
On these days, I tried to keep it simple. Nothing spectacular was needed to be thankful for basic things: the caress of warm water against my skin, vision to appreciate a crisp, clear autumn sunrise, two arms to embrace the ones I love.
Now I look forward to sending and receiving gratitude emails. It’s as if my heart is beating with new life, the blood of appreciation though it feels more normal and natural to complain. Author, therapist, and researcher Dr. Rick Hanson says, “Your brain evolved a negativity bias that makes it like Velcro for negative experiences but Teflon for positive ones.”
The practice of giving thanks takes time. Like any behavior change, it is important to set an intention. We can check in with this intention as often as we need to. Like an encouraging parent, teacher, coach, or spiritual guide, our intention reminds us of what is most important. It doesn’t care how long it takes us or how far we stray from our desired path. It can be that soft whisper in the dawn hours reminding us that today is a new day, another chance to begin again.
May this season inspire you to give thanks for all the blessings in your life. May the possibility of gratitude save lives.
Kaveri has been on a quest to find answers, not through religious texts, any particular person or popular dogma,but through her own experiences. She lives with her wonderful family in northern California where she practices medicine, meditation, parenting, yoga, writing, and patience. Kaveri's column here focuses on "Living Poetry." To find out more about Kaveri and her books/poems, please visit www.wisdominwaves.com.
two cars merging into one lane who will slow down who will speed up
who’s heart will open beyond metal cage of mind to allow safe passage for both
My family recently moved into a new house. My commute to and from work now requires that I enter and exit the freeway where several merges take place. It can be a bit nerve racking. I’m still in awe that millions of cars merge daily on busy roadways with fewer accidents than one might expect.
So what’s the secret? When we find ourselves stressed at home or work, how do we merge into one lane and avoid crashing into each other? How do we open to our own suffering and the suffering of others?
My family’s recent move gave me plenty of chances to experience stress and these ‘crashes’. My husband, daughter, Mother, and I all had different ideas about how to pack/unpack, what should go where, and what was of utmost priority. The differences created such a distance. At times I wondered if the house was large enough to hold all that was occurring internally and externally for us all.
Feeling overwhelmed and exhausted, my heart chakra was in desperate need of healing. But how? Where could I begin? I decided to meditate and practice yoga. After a few minutes of just breathing, I imagined the whole world as my ally, sending me whatever I needed with each in breath. In exchange, it was willing to receive everything poisoning my heart with each out breath.
The next day I felt a bit lighter and more receptive. I began to ask myself what life must be like for my husband, daughter, and Mother. Just asking the question softened me more than Egyptian cotton sheets of the highest thread count or my last massage.
The next meditation was dedicated to reconnecting with each family member. I tried to recall three specific instances where I felt deeply connected to them. Slowly but surely, the mask of unreal other (term borrowed from Tara Brach) began to fall away. I saw their souls next to my own- beings aching to be known, loved, safe, and happy.
We can apply this concept of unreal other anywhere- at work when pressured to meet a deadline, standing in a long line at the grocery store, or when our child decides to do the total opposite of what we ask them to do. (I’m sure you can think of a whole list of situations that might push your buttons!)
We must first pause, offer self-compassion, and set the intention to open our own hearts before we can even begin to look through another’s eyes. If we can do this, there is a small possibility of widening the lens to include panoramic views of others’ thoughts, feelings, and experiences.
Instead of crashing, our hearts open beyond the metal cage of our minds (mental concepts of self and other) to allow safe passage for both beings, to allow safe passage for all.
Kaveri has been on a quest to find answers, not through religious texts, any particular person or popular dogma,but through her own experiences. She lives with her wonderful family in northern California where she practices medicine, meditation, parenting, yoga, writing, and patience. Kaveri's column here focuses on "Living Poetry." Her first book of poetry, An Invitation, is available on Amazon. She can be reached at: aninvitationpoetry@gmail.com
Kaveri has been on a quest to find answers, not through religious texts, any particular person or popular dogma,but through her own experiences. She lives with her wonderful family in northern California where she practices medicine, meditation, parenting, yoga, writing, and patience. Kaveri's column here focuses on "Living Poetry." Her first book of poetry, An Invitation, is available on Amazon. She can be reached at: aninvitationpoetry@gmail.com
We are born into a world of rules and expectations, awarded for good behavior and punished for disobedience.This process of inclusion and exclusion is further promoted by the grades we receive throughout our school years, an A for academic excellence, an F for failure to meet standards, or some letter in between.
(Image: Woman Writing by Pablo Picasso)
I watched this process shape my understanding and willingness to participate in the writing journey.In high school I took an AP English Composition class.Holding my breath as Mr. P announced the best writing sample among the class each week, I tried hard to conform to a certain writing style.My writing was never chosen.I also joined my high school’s poetry club and diligently attended each meeting, especially the meetings where poems were chosen for publication in the club’s quarterly journal.I judged a poet by their number of poems appearing in each journal.I obviously wasn’t a very good poet.Only one or two of my poems would appear in any given publication.
After college, I submitted poems to many journals only to receive letter after letter of rejection.I began to seriously doubt my ability as a writer.Should I even calling myself a writer, let alone hold a pen?During medical school, I still wrote because I sensed there was something more to writing than just publication.It felt deeply therapeutic, with or without external approval.
After residency I started to attend yearly writing retreats with The Sun magazine staff in Esalen, CA and even spent one summer with poet Ellen Bass still trying to learn the right way to write and get published.I’m not sure exactly when I read Rumi’s words, “Let the beauty of what you love be what you do.”I knew I loved writing, the way words expressed my inner life (both wounds and wonders) with such beauty and clarity and inscribed by sacred journey on paper.I could feel the years of exhaustion in seeking external approval finally catch up with me.If my husband, another friend, or family member liked my poem/writing, I was filled with the air of their approval and floated majestically through my day like a bright red balloon.If they disliked my poem/writing or had no comment, I felt deflated like a black balloon waiting for someone to whisper words of validation again.
So I began to just write, without rules, without expectations.If someone happened to like the writing, I was grateful for the ability to inspire them.If they could not connect with the writing, I still considered myself blessed for the opportunity to explore my psyche and celebrate my life with words.When I released the need to please, my authentic voice began to sing and shout through dreams and poems.
Journal
You accept me without pretense, without the need for a grammar makeover or punctuation pedicure. I dress myself in dark words of despair or light pastels of joy, always showing some skin, some wound or wonder I’m proud of engraved in your pages for free- a prized poem you’ll keep despite the critic reviews.
Despite the critic reviews (the loudest being my own), I self-published a book of poetry and my work has appeared in various publications online and in print.Each time I write, my heart fills with gratitude for the time and space to create, to care about this precious life.I now facilitate a women’s writing group to help others find their own authentic voice and writing style.
Whether your creative journey is writing, painting, singing, dancing, cooking, knitting, healing, arranging flowers, parenting, teaching, etc., please remember to protect and respect your art regardless of public praise or criticism.When you “let the beauty of what you love be what you do”, you sparkle from within.You are more precious than a diamond waiting to be polished to perfection.You experience an unparalleled joy you previously sought elsewhere, and discover a loving presence that will never, ever leave you.
Kaveri has been on a quest to find answers, not through religious texts, any particular person or popular dogma,but through her own experiences. She lives with her wonderful family in northern California where she practices medicine, meditation, parenting, yoga, writing, and patience. Kaveri's column here focuses on "Living Poetry." Her first book of poetry, An Invitation, is available on Amazon. She can be reached at: aninvitationpoetry@gmail.com
All suffering is soul suffering- believing you are less or more than you truly are,
denying your blemishes promoting your glamour forgetting the sky above
you, perpetual witness to all your selves and never turning away.
What does it mean to love yourself? You may read articles or books that offer many avenues to self-care – a massage, exercise, time outdoors, a makeover, a new hairstyle or wardrobe, prayer, meditation, engaging in a creative endeavor, etc.
Now let me phrase the question a bit differently. What does it mean to love yourself COMPLETELY?
For me, this question has taken center stage on the altar of my spiritual practice. Completely oblivious to the realization that I was using Buddhism as another self improvement project, I spent the first years of meditation practice turning my Inner Critic into a Buddhist Critic. I’d feel good when others praised me and dejected when criticized.
In Jungian psychology, we tend to suppress our unacceptable, unlovable parts. Submerging them deep into the sea of our subconscious minds, we wonder why we are plagued by the same themes in dreams and hear the same uninvited guests knocking on our door day after day.
I spent years forsaking fear and aversion, abandoning them like disgraceful children who could never measure up to my expectations. Instead I would promote my more respectable qualities as an empathetic physician, talented writer, and mindful parent. A full-fledged Boddhisattvina, I was sure to be safe, loved, and secure forever.
But fear and aversion kept knocking on my door. I was tired of suffering, and realized I would have to invite them in for tea sooner or later. Through compassion practice I took a vow to stay, to try and make meaningful conversation, and recited the following phrases:
I care about this suffering.
May I be free of suffering.
I understand this suffering.
May I be kind and gentle.
It’s not my fault.
Over time I took refuge in the compassionate presence of the vast sky above me, perpetual witness to all my perceived identities. No matter how angry, scared, lost, or blemished I felt, the sky never turned away, never stopped shining with joy or raining tears of heartfelt understanding.
I’ve read in the soul retrieval process that a shaman brings back all parts of one’s soul that are missing. In this case, the shaman is the sky goddess Karuna (compassion) urging me to make space for all parts of my soul, both pleasant and unpleasant.
Maybe fear and aversion are dusty gems just waiting to be polished with presence. In the light of a vast love that embraces all things, they are no longer my fear and aversion or your fear and aversion, but part of our shared and vulnerable humanity.
Kaveri Patel has been on a quest to find answers, not through religious texts, any particular person or popular dogma,but through her own experiences. She lives with her wonderful family in northern California where she practices medicine, meditation, parenting, yoga, writing, and patience. Kaveri's column here focuses on "Living Poetry." Her first book of poetry, An Invitation, has just been released. To purchase a copy, contact her at: aninvitationpoetry@gmail.com
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