Being in Retreat, Finding Profound Rest

In just about a few days, in early August, I will be leading a retreat on loving kindness and its connection to basic goodness.

This event is available in person—in a wonderful beautiful environment in Wales—and also online, both on Zoom and by means of a recording (which can then be used repeatedly for personal practice).

I would be extremely privileged to see you among the retreat participants, and am also quite confident about the power of the material and the format. Please consider joining—and see the information & the registration links here.

Here’s a brief summary of some of the benefits of being in retreat that I’ve recently sent out through the newsletter of the Contemplative Consciousness Network:

Being in retreat can be a wonderful opportunity to train our mind and cultivate new wholesome habits, including those related to attention. It is one of the primary ways to progress in our contemplative practice. 

Beyond that, unplugging to be in retreat (group or solitary) has multiple health-related benefits. According to stress researcher Elissa Epel, even a retreat not accompanied by meditation might bring powerful results:

It turned out that just living at the retreat center—regardless of whether the participants trained in meditation—created dramatic changes in gene expression activity in the immune cells… 

Cell activity after living at the retreat center was dramatically different than it was on the day the participants arrived! 

We saw reductions in inflammatory activity, oxidative stress activity, DNA damage, and mitochondrial degradation. 

All great things! Autophagy-related processes—that beneficial process of cell cleanup—went up. People… reported feeling full of vitality at the end of the week and had large decreases in depression, anxiety, and stress.

(The Stress Prescription)

While talking about the importance of profound rest and the different ways of arriving at it, she also points out the transformative power of proper meditation retreats:

Meditation retreats are probably the most extreme example of deep rest, because you’re having a secluded, safe period where you can really remodel your nervous system. 

You can have dramatic improvements in how much you’re carrying around vigilance in every moment.

(Elissa Epel for Sounds True)

According to the research Elissa is quoting, those who have combined unplugging (being in retreat) with actual meditation training and then continued with their daily practice were still displaying reduced levels of stress a year later. Such immersive training was especially beneficial for those who have experienced early trauma (allowing for the process of nervous system “remodeling”), but brought benefit to all.

Since our retreat this August is focused on loving kindness, it will offer additional benefits (even when taken online or by means of a recording) related to the nature of kindness meditation. 

For example, research done by a team from the University of North Carolina suggests that systematic loving kindness practice can contribute to a reduced shortening of telomeres (the “DNA-protein complexes within our cells that protect them from daily wear and tear”). 

In the domain of psychological wellbeing, loving kindness has a powerful way of affecting our habits of cognition, our attention (metta is a śamatha technique, after all!), the domain of our wishes (our conation), and, of course, our emotions. 

Research done by Barbara Fredrickson suggests that loving kindness practice can also bring an increase in daily positive emotions, a reduction in depressive symptoms, and a greater level of life satisfaction.

Living a Meaningful Life

Two days ago, on June 26, I turned 35—the age at which the historical Buddha reached the state of full awakening. Sometimes it feels I couldn’t be farther away from that goal—and yet I feel an unflinching sense of positivity, stemming from the fact that every mindstream (including, strangely enough, mine) is pervaded by the immensely wonderful nature of wakefulness. One just has to tap into that underlying stream and keep reconnecting to it until the state of recognition becomes constant. Of course, easier said than done!

Having reached this age, I am acutely aware of being in a bardo – a transitory state between two events. Although the bardo states are traditionally presented as 6 very specific “in-betweens”—as the transitory states of (1) living, (2) dreaming, (3) meditating, (4) dying, (5) abiding in post-mortem luminosity, and, finally, (6) becoming a new entity, each one of them also contains many sub-bardos. We are constantly moving between life and death (or death and then next rebirth), between jobs, between relationships, between houses, between one event and the other. Charles Dickens summarised the nature of our in-betweenish lives in The Old Curiosity Shop: “We are all going to the play, or coming from it”. 

My transitory state, at the moment, means that I am temporarily travelling (to Mexico), but even outside of travels I do not currently have a “home” per se: I am merely a guest, in more ways than one. Strongly reliant on the kindness of others, I therefore want to make sure my life is somewhat meaningful. One of the fiction books from the Star Warslegendarium—a book I quite eagerly consumed in my teenage years—was suggesting one’s birthdays are an opportunity to reflect: has the previous year been spent in meaningful way? This idea stayed with me and has since informed my every birthday (even the ones that were, in my subjective assessment, less then ideal in terms of what transpired on them).

Such contemplation would, of course, raise further questions. What is a meaningful life, for example? There can be multiple answers, and the Mahāyāna Buddhist tradition certainly has its own interpretation. However, on a more universal level—transcending specific traditions or, perhaps, not requiring any specific affiliation at all—I quite like the recipe that, according to Dr. Robert Svoboda, was at the heart of his mentor Vimalananda’s nightly check in with himself:

Have I lived?
Have I loved?
Have I laughed?

(See a brief video explanation of these 3 questions here)

In providing my own definition on what to consider a meaningful way to live my life, I have to add certain components related to the unique nature of my service and my spiritual practice. One of these components is this: although there ideally should be no attachment to the results of one’s attempts to help, positive feedback related to our work is still quite encouraging. It is powerful to know that you’ve made someone’s life easier, than you’ve offered some peace or some hope, and that you are not simply shouting into the void, ore merely talking to yourself (with the best intentions).

However, that feedback is of secondary importance, and the “primary witness” (as it is described in the mind-training tradition of lojong practice) is our own heart, hopefully aware of its wishes and motivations. This is where the powerful conative practices of the Mahāyāna tradition—especially those related to generating bodhicitta, the enlightened compassionate attitude to wake up fully for the benefit of all—become particularly pertinent. 

My own practice of bodhicitta, however basic at this stage, has been strongly supported by a powerful aspiration prayer, extracted from the words of the late Lama Zopa Rinpoche and lightly edited by his student Venerable Thubten Chodron. Called “Dedication for a meaningful life”, it has been my heart practice for many years something I recite again and again to supercharge my conative field and to affect all that I might do in the future. Somewhat facetiously, I even say that if people wanted a practice that would truly transform them, earnestly reciting this formula 100 000 (or even 10 000) times would certainly do the trick; could one embody these words and not be a saint? As I’m starting a new cycle (which can always turn out to be one of many—or my very last!), I am coming back to these words and humbly inviting you to contemplate them as well: 

Whatever actions I do—eating, walking, sitting, sleeping, working, and so forth—and whatever I experience in life—up or down, happiness or pain, healthy or sick, harmony or discord, success or failure, wealth or poverty, praise or criticism—whether I am living or dying, or even born in a horrible rebirth; whether I live long or not—may my life be beneficial for all sentient beings. The main purpose of my life is not simply to be rich, respected, famous, healthy, and happy. The meaning of my life is to benefit all sentient beings. Therefore, from now on, may whatever actions I do be beneficial for all beings. May whatever I experience in life—happiness or suffering—be dedicated to actualizing the path to awakening. May whatever I do, say, or think benefit all sentient beings and help them to attain full awakening quickly.

Contending with Contempt

This short piece was written for the Cultivating Emotional Balance (CEB) newsletter

Contempt is an interesting emotion to unpack, both in terms of its effect on our society and with regards to our personal history. Reflecting a sense of condescension towards others (either as individuals or as groups), contempt can be an important signal for showing disapproval towards what we perceive as socially reprehensible behaviour, but often comes at a high price, building stronger walls between us and others. I distinctly remember the first time I noticed the facial expression of contempt in the face of a friend that I was sharing something vulnerable with. An unmistaken sign of superiority instead of empathy and support was a tough pill to swallow—and, indeed, an accurate prediction for the eventual dissolution of friendship.

I find it meaningful to explore my own habits related to contempt by analysing how it manifested in my teenage years (quite profusely—as a defence mechanism during the tumultuous school years), how I used to occasionally express it towards people of other generations (either older or younger), and how it can, to this day, arise when I’m faced with political and ethical views that are vastly different from mine.

Exploring these three domains is a powerful way to understand something about our emotional landscape in general and our contempt-related habits in particular.

However, this understanding is incomplete unless we add some practical solutions to it: how do I keep my contempt in check, making sure it does not poison my relationships and does not become a state I’m strongly associated with?

It is in this domain of practical ideas that I find a lot of similarity between contempt and pity—and between the ways of dealing with those emotions. Both mental states entail a certain distancing between us and another being: one with a greater degree of coldness, the other with a bit more sympathy. Both, however, are different from genuine compassion that sees us as being equal to others—equal in our wish to be free and in how we’re all subject to suffering. Both take us away from genuine respect towards the subjective experiences of others and how real those experience must feel. Reminding myself of the dangers of hubris and of the value of warm-hearted openness towards others (especially towards their vulnerable core) seems to work quite well in bringing me down to a more open, equanimous, and compassionate state, where the dividing force of contempt is caught and transformed into a slightly greater degree of understanding.

Practicing On the Cushion

Contempt can serve as a theme for analytical meditation in which we explore three simple questions:

• How does it feel when I’m treated with contempt?

• Do I feel connected to others when I’m contemptuoustowards them?

• How can I open my heart and mind when contempthabitually arises?

If nothing else comes to mind, one powerful way to answer the third question is with an aspiration: “May I always practice respectful, warm-hearted openness that is both wise and kind”.

An important factor for exploring these questions successfully is being gentle with ourselves. Contempt-related habits will not change overnight, and they are completely understandable—and at the same time malleable, if we apply enough effort and kindness.

Practicing with Contempt Off the Cushion

One of the first tricks to use with contempt is to watch out for the associated facial expression (characterised by a corner of our lip going down in disdain).

Is our facial expression shifting when someone is asking a question we see as stupid, or when someone is, in our understanding, being mopey or excessively loud?

Catching ourselves and then allowing our face to relax into a facial expression of equanimous, respectful curiosity is a helpful trick for improving our connection with others—especially once that respectful openness actually starts arising from within.

Harnessing Pain, Establishing Clarity

My body, like everybody else’s, is constantly undergoing changes. Over the years, I’ve been trained to see it as a field of energy that can be potentially used for good—for example, when attempting to serve others—and yet will keep bringing the inevitable complications which include physical pain and the frustration of age- and sickness-related physical limitations.

The balance of the five elements within our body is extremely fragile, and a small seed (karmic or situational, depending on how you want to see it) can bring us a lot of discomfort. For example, when growing up, I was tormented by incessant intense headaches of unclear origin. These often left me nauseous and would not be affected by any type of medication—I had to complete all my tasks while desperately wishing to find some respite.

These headaches eventually disappeared, but were replaced by horrible face skin problems (one reason for why I don’t have that many photos from my BA years). That, in turn, eventually gave way to chronic, allergy-related pain that occurs at least once a twice a month and occasionally leaves me bent over, waiting for it to pass. That, in turn, might continue on its own or eventually join forces with a number of other maladies and aches, testing my limits on new ways. In the words of arhat Śāriputra, “the aggregates are oppressive”—the unenlightened form or our body, speech, and mind energy is always ready to produce more types of dukkha.

What, then, is the solution? While I do explore all the medicine-related paths towards perfect health and absence of physical discomfort, some things are simply beyond fixing, at least for now. Physical problems are a given—a part of human existence (along with birth, aging, and death). The best I can do, then, is to deal with the unpleasant physical experiences gracefully–with equanimity, compassion, and mindful awareness, sustained at all times in support of self-kindness and kindness towards all beings.

One thing that I’ve learnt in this journey is that health-related (and pain-related) contemplative skills can be learnt as a subject of its own—a “Pain-Management Dharma”, if you may, intimately connected to the Dharma in general and yet providing valuable insights into how to deal with the suffering in the here and now. While playing with the idea of creating more materials related to the practices that have helped me personally, I am honored to present the following list of resources in case they might be of help to you or your loved ones.

Universal source: dealing with sickness and pain

A universal source that covers many aspects of sickness and physical problems (along with the associated types mental anguish) has been compiled by Toni Bernhard, based on her extensive experience of living with chronic illness.

In the two versions of How To Be Sick she explores a wide range of topics and practices that might be of help:

How To Be Sick by Toni Bernhard

How to Be Sick: A Pocket Book by Toni Bernhard

Mindful pain-management

Dealing with any pain that we can’t alleviate through medication or exercise requires a lot of inner resources. In my experience, the main qualities to cultivate for successful pain management are the same we need in our contemplative life in general: focused, clear awareness; love and compassion; wisdom that discerns the true interdependent nature of any given experience.

If we are working to cultivate these awareness skills while dealing with regular pain, there’s a lot of benefit in referring to specialised sources, including a new book by Jon Kabbat-Zinn, the godfather of the popular mindfulness movement in the English-speaking world. Describing his approach to mindful pain-management, he points out:

Your unique experience, including the particular difficulties you face and thus have available to work with, all become essential elements of the work of mindfulness itself rather than obstacles to being mindful or impediments to the relief from pain that an ongoing practice of mindfulness can lead to.

With this attitude, there is no way to fail at this engagement because we are not trying to force anything to be other than as it is. We are simply learning how to hold it in awareness differently. Out of this gesture alone, the experience off Ian—and our relationship to it—can change profoundly.

See the book here: Mindfulness Meditation for Pain Relief by Jon Kabbat-Zinn

The heart of this approach is the application of awareness itself to pain. Being aware of the experience with curiosity and openness, while trying to drop some of the inner resistance and embellishment, can already be of much benefit, even before we go into the associated qualities of kindness and wisdom.

There are three potential results that people report experiencing as a result of such awareness practice. From most common to most unusual, they are:

1) The pain stays more or less the same, but becomes more psychologically bearable
2) The pain diminishes
3) The intensity of the stimulation experience remains the same, but it actually becomes somewhat pleasant

That being said, simple awareness practice can be largely elaborated upon. If we are suffering from chronic pain, there is more to do than simply changing our habits of awareness. We can establish powerful support systems, find communities, and explore our inner resources by following an elaborate strategy. A thorough approach to this has been outlined by Toni Bernhard in her following book (available also as an audio version:)

How to Live Well with Chronic Pain and Illness by Toni Bernard

Transforming our attitude to sickness and adversity

Of course, physical pain and sickness is just one of the multiple types of dukkha we experience, along with mental anguish, heartbreaking situations, catastrophes, war, and so on. Tibetan Buddhist tradition preserves a unique lineage of attitude-training practices (known as lojong) for transforming problems into the path. The teachings on those were largely responsible for attracting me to active Buddhist practice in college, and there’s one book in particular that I recommend on the topic—at least if you’re open to the Buddhist ideas of karma, rebirth, awakening and so on:

Transforming Problems into Happiness by Lama Zopa Rinpoche

The root text explained in this book was composed by the Third Dodrubchen Rinpoche, who also composed a very short and quintessential instruction on the theme of transforming sickness into the path, available here. While this set of suggestions requires additional instructions and extensive training, it provides extremely helpful pointers along the way to using pain as an aid on our path to awakening. There is also a similar text by Gyalse Togme Zangpo, the author of the “Thirty-seven practices of bodhisattvas”, translated here.

A fairly common practice for transforming pain into something meaningful—coming straight from the heart of the mind-training tradition—is tonglen (taking and giving) oriented towards our experiences of discomfort. Here’s a version of this practice led by me:

SoundCloud | InsightTimer | YouTube

Contemplative techniques to support the process of healing

Another theme to explore is the mental/spiritual side of healing. While not a substitute for qualified medical attention, some types of meditation can aid with an overall sense of wellbeing, or, potentially, increase the speed of our recovery (or at least ease the symptoms).

The Tibetan contemplative tradition has many practices of this nature and uses them to enhance the efficiency of Tibetan medicine. There are three wonderful sources on these healing meditations that I would recommend:

Ultimate Healing by Lama Zopa Rinpoche

The Healing Power of Mind by Tulku Thondup

Boundless Healing by Tulku Thondup

Some guided meditations from this category of practices (mostly centered around specific buddha-figures, or meditational deities) are available below:

White Tara Healing Practice: Inviting the Elements

Medicine Buddha: Rays of Healing Light

Guru Rinpoche Healing Practice

Orange Tara Dispelling Sickness

Finally, whatever type of pain or sickness we or our loved ones might be facing, a wonderful way to train is in the boundless bodhisattva aspirations—for example, the aspirations composed by Śāntideva. One particular verse recommended by Garchen Rinpoche for recitation (and, accordingly, deep contemplation) is as follows—may it be fulfilled for all of us:

May every being ailing with disease
Be freed at once from every malady.
May all the sickness that afflicts the living
Be instantly and permanently healed.

Impermanence and decontextualisation: On the Dalai Lama, media, and the passing of two great teachers

These last few days have been very eventful in the Tibetan Buddhist world, and three occurrences in particular have interrupted the normal flow of my work and put me in front of the keyboard (to compile information and write things for the several outlets I’m connected to): the passing of Domang Gyatrul Rinpoche, the media flurry regarding His Holiness the Dalai Lama, and then the passing of one of my first and most important teachers, Lama Zopa Rinpoche.

All three have evoked strong emotional reactions from me, but I’ve been able to maintain a certain level of inner equilibrium by doing something I believe is productive: offering clarifications that can, hopefully, inspire people to continue cultivating wisdom and compassion.

As this turbulent week is coming to a close, I am getting ready for my first in-person class in London (also available online): a session on loving kindness offered as a part of a series on the four immeasurables, or four types of benevolence. Since those are at the heart (pun!) of my own practice and have always been deeply embodied by Lama Zopa Rinpoche (who guided me to these methods in the first place), I know that sitting together with others to generate loving kindness will also feel like a deeply meaningful, healing act.

His Holiness the Dalai Lama and the media

I first heard about the issue upon waking up one morning and seeing a message from an Instagram friend (and a fellow ex-monk) from Thailand. He noticed a strange thing suddenly going viral on Thai twitter, but suspended judgement and asked me about the fuller context. Being still groggy, I could only suggest the video might be edited (which it actually was) and said that we will probably have more context very soon. Since then, I have received similar questions from other people I know—a famous drag performer, a career diplomat, a few classmates and so on.

“Context” is the key word here. As someone currently facilitating a course on insight practices—the essence of which is working against our tendency to decontextualise every aspect of reality we perceive—and as a translator (who knows that words only acquire meaning in a context), I am extremely sensitive to rush judgements made out of context, and am extremely aware of their dangerous nature.

Essentially, we should all think: we’ve actually all done and said things that, if they were to be carefully taken out of context with a certain level of maliciousness (or just sensationalism), would end our reputation. If someone were to care enough to start a campaign, we should hope that at least the people most important to us would take a moment and seek to understand the situation fully, after careful investigation. Such investigation would not make us immune to criticism, but it would offer us the space necessary to have our actions understood correctly.

The media coverage of the incident has been deeply colonial, since it excluded the voices of voices of Tibetans—and Tibetologists, who could offer the precious context on the original expression that His Holiness was trying to translate into English.

It has also been driven by sensationalism and therefore excluded the full version of the video (which presents a completely different picture) and the interviews with the boy and his mother.

Needless to say, it also ignored the Dalai Lama’s blameless record of dealing with people over the last decades of his travels, or his position as one of the leading humanists and pacifists of our time.

Finally, the context itself was omitted: the original (full-length) video is not from a hidden camera, it is from a public event attended by Tibetan and Indian officials alike, along with numerous members of the public, and it was uploaded by the Tibetans themselves to the Voice of America website.

Furthermore, the video did not actually become viral when it was first uploaded; it only started circulating widely right at the moment when mainland China—still heavily pissed by the Dalai Lama’s recent recognition of a very important reincarnate lama and famously seeing his as one of their primary enemies—started its military games imitating an attack on Taiwan. The games, covered by this media noise, went largely unnoticed.

There is no need for me to share my own observations, feelings, or history with the Dalai Lama—I’m not someone important. The only thing important is to offer the full context and to elevate the voices of Tibetans, because they are uniquely capable of knowing the full cultural context; so here are some helpful links (if you haven’t already seen them on my Instagram):

• Robert Mayer of Oxford on the original expression (see another description of the same expression here)

• On a similar expression used in Amdo Region, where the Dalai Lama is from

• A Tibetan Perspective – An Elaborate Explanation

• A statement from the current Sikyong (Tibetan Prime Minister) Penpa Tsering

• A statement form the first Sikyong Lobsang Sangay

• Interviews with the boy and his mother right after the event

• A statement from His Holiness Sakya Trichen, supreme head of the Sakya tradition

You can find most recent updates at the Tibet Today account.

One thing to understand—shared by the Tibetans within their community discussions—is that the immense harm brought by the sloppy media coverage is not going to undo itself. We all, if we have come to some clarity about the issue by studying everything above, can share this task and elevate the voices of the people whose heritage we have been benefitted by so much.

(As a side note, I have also seen some of my secular colleagues adopt a patronising stance and refuse to look into the issue or too see the colonial nature of this incident, all while continuing to capitalise on what the Tibetans have brought them so generously. That’s not something I can agree with)

Gyatrul Rinpoche and Lama Zopa Rinpoche’s passing

Gyatrul Rinpoche, for me, was a lineage lama—as the main Dzogchen guru of Lama Alan Wallace, he was a teacher of my teacher. I never had a chance to meet him in person in North America, but have received incredible benefit from his books (including A Spacious Path to Freedom), and, of course, from the activity of his Dharma successors, including Lama Alan Wallace and Lama Sangye Khandro. He was instrumental on brining many rare Dzogchen teachings into North America, and then, by extension, to the entire world.

By contrast, Lama Zopa Rinpoche was very much my teacher—one of my root lamas, who especially benefitted me through his teachings on bodhicitta, but also generously dispensed personal advice.

It was Lama Zopa Rinpoche’s guidance that led me to develop an interest (and, through that, a certain understanding) of such practice systems as White Tara and the four immeasurables—things that are now at the heart of my work as an instructor. Lama Zopa Rinpoche was an incredible yogi and a true embodiment of kindness, and him passing away right amidst a smear campaign against his main teacher is a tragic loss for the world. For all of us, it as an invitation to use our wisdom and compassion to greater degree.

The passing of both these teachers leaves their students, in a way, groundless, just like the media campaign covered above. A familiar picture of reality shifts, and we are feeling a bit lost, confused, or forlorn. The great thing is that we have very simple questions that we can ask ourselves — for example, Having carefully analysed the situation, what do I have to offer? And How can I keep my practice alive and vibrant so that it benefits others? As long as we answer these somehow — for example, by turning to the practice of loving kindness — we are on the right track.

Experiencing Insight through Exploring Four Objects

In identifying major forms of practice we can add to our “inner diet”, my teachers sometimes mention three quintessential components of contemplative training—“quintessential” in terms of helping us establish the long-lasting, profound wellbeing of eudaemonia, or genuine flourishing. These would ideally be all present in our contemplative toolbox, but very rarely enter our life at the same time.

For many of us, our exploration would begin with just one of these three categories: (1) practices for attentional stability, centered around the different methods of shamatha; (2) methods for cultivating kindness and compassion, and (3) practices for cultivating insight into the true nature of reality. Quite often, it is categories 1 or 2 that speak to many people in the modern world—especially in the popular mindfulness movement—more than anything else.

Unsurprisingly, the third category has its own fans as well. Those who are led to a contemplative life by their desire to experience mystical union, or find satori, or reach irreversible freedom (or even a temporary alleviation of inner pain) are often strongly propelled into the world of insight.

On occasion, they would even experience the results of insight without (seemingly) much effort—which is said to happen to those who have a certain natural giftedness, or appropriate karmic propensity.

At the same time, there is also no shortage of people who somehow resist insight practices, feeling more at home in the world of attention training and heart cultivation, but not daring to engage in practices that seem quite brainy and potentially dangerous to our familiar perception of reality.

One of the reasons for this resistance is the very nature of insight methods. Their job, from a Buddhist point of view, is to challenge and untie some of the knots in our habitual patterns of perception, establishing freedom where there was previously cognitive (and emotional) constriction.

Our grasping at permanence is to be released, being gradually replaced by a clear understanding of mutability; grasping at independent existence is to be supplanted by a profound feeling of interdependence.

The various—and, in a way, numerous—practice techniques used to achieve this goal of liberation are insight practice, and the “enemy” they are meant to defeat is primarily our tendency to reify: to ascribe greater reality and stability to something that is mercurial, unstable, and is barely existent at all. (The way things actually do exist is also something to be ascertained through practice).

Buddhist insight practices—commonly known as vipaśyanā (in Sanskrit) and vipassana (in Pali)—can be categorised in various ways, both in terms of their primary emphasis and their historical origins. A quintessential system of such practices was originally presented by the Buddha himself and is known as the four applications (establishments, foundations) of mindfulness.

The name implies that that we apply our faculty of mindfulness, trained and perfected through attention-cultivating techniques, to the true nature of our experiences, divided into four major dimensions:

1) Body (which includes any type of materiality)

2) Feelings (pleasant, unpleasant, and neutral)

3) Mind

4) Phenomena (that is, all cognizable phenomena taken together or divided into major categories)

The act of applying mindfulness is done in the spirit of curious inquiry, and is supported by both attention-training and heart-cultivation—and, in return, supports those practices as well.

The simple insights we might gain from doing entry-level vipaśyanā practices are to be fed into the systems supporting our kindness, compassion, and overall wellbeing.

At the same time, these insights are experienced as a great source of joy in themselves—while not necessarily dramatic, they still allow us to feel a greater sense of easy and resilience, therefore strengthening our ability to move through life gracefully and with greater skill.

To try out some of the practices from this category, check out the meditations in this playlist

Seasonal gloom, loving embrace

This short essay was originally written for the Cultivating Emotional Balance (CEB) newsletter

Winter months, if you’re anything like me, can be a period of increased sadness, nostalgic and gloomy moods, and, for some people, even expressions of the SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder), such as depression. Even those living in regions blessed with more sunlight and pleasant weather patterns can feel like their mental, physical, and emotional energy—along with their creative potential—are going into a type of hibernation. While putting a positive spin on everything is not always the best strategy (especially if it borders on false positivity that attempts to obscure the challenging aspects of our life), we are still free to experiment with different techniques for transforming our seasonal fatigue into something meaningful both for ourselves and others.

Whatever the sources of emotional support in periods of natural gloom might be, tenderness towards ourselves—a gentle, affectionate attitude—is always a good red thread to sow different types of care together. In my experience, it is certainly difficult to make it through the demanding winter months without treating myself as someone who deserves happiness, proper gentle care, and a certain degree of slowing down.

Those, of course, are not meant to happen at the expense of others—we are not trying to abandon ethical and social intelligence and merely using the winter blues as an excuse. Rather, this period might invite us to be just a bit more committed to self-care routines, to setting healthy boundaries, and to getting proper rest. 

One of the best practices for these periods of blues, in my experience, is loving kindness. In this case, it does not always mean assuming a proper posture and doing loving kindness meditation as a formal session. While important, that might not always be energetically viable, at least not for long hours—who hasn’t struggled with getting onto the cushion when there’s barely energy to move around the apartment? 

A more important approach is to let loving kindness suffuse our body and mind in small but significant ways. Wishing ourselves well while getting ready for a nap, or waking up from one, or when we are making yet another cup of tea; extending benevolent wishes to all beings as we observe the snowy landscape outside; soaking in hot water and imagining the waters of loving kindness flowing out to all who live.

When nature goes into hibernation, it shows us the promise of renewal and flourishing—the very flourishing that serves as a perfect reminder for our own potential happiness of being, or eudaemonia. However, there’s also renewal possible in hedonic matters, including our relationships, creative projects, and even our diet. We just don’t need to expect those changes to happen immediately after New Year’s. While the natural world is getting ready for the renewal of spring, we can also let things grow and bloom in their own time—with just a tad of gentle propelling from our side. If that propelling takes the form of a few loving kindness wishes here and there, combined with a little bit of skillful action, that’s good enough. Those wishes themselves will one day evolve into a boundless stream of benevolence renewing ourselves, others, and the world we’re aspiring to serve in small and big waves. When moving around, remember that the people you meet might have low levels of energy—emotionally, mentally, or physically. Some people might be experiencing burnout right now! Generate a wish for everyone’s wellbeing, so that a wave a joy coming from the inside can help everyone feel supported and benevolent.

TIP FOR ON-THE-CUSHION PRACTICE

Consider using gloomier and slower days (or seasons) as an inspiration, rather than a hindrance, for your loving kindness practice. Seasonal fatigue is only one of the multiple ways to label our experience; as an experiment, we can instead think of seasonal lows as a contemplative retreating of energy—a period of rest and germination—and then generate boundless wishes for flourishing, directing them at ourselves and others.

TIP FOR PRACTICING OFF THE CUSHION

When moving around, remember that the people you meet might have low levels of energy—emotionally, mentally, or physically. Some people might be experiencing burnout right now! Generate a wish for everyone’s wellbeing, so that a wave a joy coming from the inside can help everyone feel supported and benevolent.