Search for Wise Compassion

 

When dealing with supporting loved ones in recovery, wise compassion vs idiot compassion seems a constant contemplation. The above quote guides our practice. How do we know our actions toward our addicted loved one, or anyone for that matter, are ultimately helpful? Two North Stars seem key:  

1)  True compassion knows ~ it's not just about the addict - the fallout from addiction is massive. True compassion supports not only the addict but those impacted by the addiction ~ especially vulnerable populations such as elders and children. Can we see with a broad, compassionate gaze that provides equal care to all those on the journey, including ourselves? 

2) True compassionate action addresses roots - every action should seek to help identify and heal the roots of addiction, not cover up, put our heads in the sand or become a co-conspirator. The roots may even have to do with us. Getting more and more real with ourselves, takes honesty and courage. 

For wise compassion to arise, seeing our loved ones, our precious, "flowers," in recovery as not separate seems foremost:

The flower is made of non-flower elements. There is nothing that is not present in the flower. We see sunshine, rain, clouds, the earth, we also see time and space in the flower. A flower, like everything, is made entirely of non-flower elements. The whole cosmos has come together in order to help the flower manifest herself. The flower is full of everything except one thing: a separate self, a separate identity. The flower cannot be by herself alone. The flower has to inter-be with the sunshine, the cloud and everything in the cosmos. If we understand being in terms of inter-being, then we are much closer to the truth.

"No Death, No Fear" by Thich Nhat Hanh

We are non-flower elements--may we be wise, compassionate gardeners, practicing tending our loved ones and family members skillfully: extracting weeds, being sunshine, rain, clouds on this recovery journey. 

                                              Image: Life Finds a Way: 25 Plants That Won't Give Up!
 

 

Kindness In The Small

The other night working a packed mental health wing, I got to pondering....

Kindness In The Small

©2021 Karla Johnston, InnerConstellation.com

Have you ever noticed, when walking down the road without sidewalks,

that cars naturally give space to avoid running over you?

When plate or cup is scalding hot, 

the waitress warns everyone.

If arms are carrying a full load, 

people step-in to open doors.

Something is dropped,

and everyone in vicinity bends to pick it up.

A person unburdens great heartache

and surrounding eyes go moist.

Someone smiles and suddenly 

the corners of our own mouths upturn.

Countless times a day

in countless ways,

“Please, you first... 

May I help you?

I feel your pain...I see your joy.” 

I can’t help but wonder

in this time of social distancing 

If we aren’t masking our beautiful, 

innate tendencies

to reach out.

Perhaps, it is the small,

seemingly insignificant, quiet kindness

that gives meaning to our lives.

Catching the Nature of Water

For those of us supporting loved ones in the cycle of addiction and recovery, there are often pain-staking moments. I'm in one of them right now, as I await confirmation that my loved one is safely in custody. I decided to do walking meditation during these tense moments, as my mind kept returning to the what-ifs and that thinking was not in any way helpful to myself, my family or my loved one.

While walking in the autumn garden, I was kept good company by streams of water trickling off the roof of my house after our first snowfall yesterday. The sun happily melted the snow into pure sparkling water ~ very precious in this time of drought. I was transported back in time to the day that I learned the depths of my loved ones addiction. I was sitting in my living room with bright sun and blue skies. It was springtime and snowmelt poured, actually gushed, from my rafters. I was on the phone, listening to my loved one and my breath was completely inaccessible. My sliding glass door was open and I could hear the melting snow, gurgling and splattering. So, every time my mind descended into panic, I returned to the sound of running water, sun and blue sky. Given my training and background, I know this comes very close to "disassociation." I call it saving my sanity--on that day, water, sun and sky became my breath, my anchors. Clear water, warm sunshine, and spacious sky, held me and my loved one in a fuller picture of reality. 

So today, during walking meditation, I notice a similar melt but it is a mere trickle. Yet, water seems to sing, "catch my precious, precious lifeforce." I slowly walk into the house and gather containers. I prop them carefully so as to catch the clear running streams. As I do, I pray for my family, all families and the amazing people who are by our loved ones sides: encouraging, feeding, sheltering, loving ~ gathering the seemingly impenetrable melt, the trickle of life that we have to work with.

Often in the cycles of use and recovery, we convince ourselves there is nothing left. I am here to say ~ life is always there. We, as compassionate care-takers must tend, gather, use and grow the precious drops. 

As I finish walking meditation and gathering the containers, I water my happy indoor plants. I sit down to write and move this energy. A message comes through. My loved one is safe, secure, protected. 

Breathing in, I offer immense gratitude;
Breathing out, may all remember their water nature,
the thaw that always comes in the light
of gentle and compassionate awareness.    

When Breath Triggers

 

Hello, Resilient Ones, who have survived pandemic, smoke-filled skies and evacuations! The impact of fire season goes beyond...so beyond the boundaries of the western states.

Fires near my local Lake Tahoe home town have been burning since June, with the latest and closest being the Caldor Fire, over 70% contained, yet still smoldering and affecting air quality ~ that’s over 4 months of smoke and altered light. Gratefully, homes were not lost in my community but the forests literally out our back doors have been greatly impacted.

For those in fire zones across the US—breath—the primary anchor when practicing mindfulness is often triggering. I speak from personal experience and listening to people again and again ask, “How can I focus on my breathing when it’s compromised?” 

Masks restricted our oxygen intake, now smoke—what can we do when breath becomes triggering? Here’s the good news, there are many anchors beside breath to help bring our mind back to our bodies, and they are only limited by imagination:

* Sounds - bird song, the sound of the bell, the fan in the air purifier (!), music

* Sights - petals of a flower, the face of a beloved one, moonlight, patterns of tree bark 

* Taste - sipping tea, chewing gum, a favorite meal, freshly tooth-brushed mouth 

* Smell - essential oils, a pot of soup, fresh squeezed lemon, wet earth

* Touch - soft fur of an animal companion, body-heat, souls of feet on the stable floor

Personally, my favorite go-to during the months of fire has been touch as a practice anchor, because it’s the only sense not overly impacted by fire conditions. Ears are assaulted by helicopters overhead dropping water and retardant and the eerie absence of forest creature sounds, smoke-haze fills sight, taste, smell, but smoke does not impact touch, so it seems an important key anchor when we are living mindfully in fire zones.

A friend recently shared in community that one day, when air quality was well over 1,000, her mind “just kind of snapped.” She gathered her dog, got in the car and started driving west on the highway. After an hour and a half, she realized she had not grabbed a single thing, no clothes, food, she had only taken her wallet and dog. “I felt like a wild animal, I just had to get away.” All of us listening understood. Our body wisdom knows—when breath is compromised it is not safe, we should leave, take flight and find clearer air to breathe. 

Fortunately, our blue sky moments this week were more than half the days as fires calm and cool with the start of Autumn. Breathing clean air is a true source of joy. Through applied practice of mindfulness during major fire, I’ve come to understand very deeply ~ clean air is an irreplaceable resource, deeply appreciated and respected as triggering when it is not plentiful. Working with other anchors besides breath expands sense perceptions and grows gratitude. Clean and unobstructed air is everything.