Archives for posts with tag: mindfulness

It’s Breast Cancer Awareness month. I don’t think I’ve blogged about it in years. I typically try, unsuccessfully, to ignore it. The superficiality of some of the campaigns bothers me. But if I am honest, I also don’t share the intensity of the anger some people still feel about it. This is my 6th October since my breast cancer diagnosis in 2012. There has been a dramatic decrease in pink ribbons and associated nonsense since that time. There have been high profile works of film, journalism, and even coverage on late night comedy shows that have revealed the money farm that developed to exploit and sexual breast cancer for profit. Yes, it is still a problem but progress is progress. Progress is to be celebrated. So I celebrate the pink reduction.

Between the “think positive” crowd to the “everything about cancer sucks” crowd, I feel increasingly on my own. Although I tend to have more in common with the “everything about cancer sucks” crowd, I do worry about my not-very-tightly-held secret. I’m going out on a limb here and admitting what my blogging buddies know already: Not EVERYTHING about having breast cancer sucked. There were aspects of my experience that exposed me to what is best about humanity. I was lucky enough to be very well cared for by my healthcare team, by my family, and by my friends. I learned some things about myself in the process of illness that have become what I hope to be, lifelong lessons and happier ways of being.

I was at cardiac rehab yesterday and one of the exercise physiologists commented, “You have such a positive attitude. Have you always been this way or is this new?” I told her that I was lucky in that I am a naturally upbeat and resilient person but also that I have done much to nurture these qualities since I was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2012. I also recently read my cardiologist report from the Mayo Clinic. In it, I am described as “a very pleasant psychologist.”

I don’t have to have a positive attitude and I don’t have to be “very pleasant”. But these qualities are helpful to me as I live my life, day by day. They also help me face some hard possibilities, most notably, the fact that I may not live as long as I thought I would. I had breast cancer at 46 and two heart attacks at age 51. I had few or no risk factors for either condition. Breast cancer can recur and I’m really not sure what the risk of recurrence or of developing metastatic cancer is. (I know there is the 20-30% estimate but I find no description of how it was arrived at in the original source materials, which concerns me.) There is a chance that I will have another SCAD event, too. However, there’s very little research on SCAD-related heart attacks, which makes it hard to know. The best estimate at this point is 20% recurrence over 10 years, but that is on a sample of only about 150 women. Further, since the cause/s of SCAD are not understood, there are no markers that can be measured to estimate my risk.

However, unlike breast cancer, stress is modifiable risk factor for cardiac diseases, including SCAD. Consequently, I continue to work on that through meditation, exercise, and through working a reduced work load. Cardiac rehab is going well. I just did my 60 day review. I am stronger and reassured that I am pushing my progress at the right rate. I have also made friends and being cared for by a group of excellent nurses and exercise physiologist. Even if these actions don’t extend my life, they make my day to day life much more peaceful, joyful, and balanced.

Awareness is synonymous with mindfulness. It is the state of being aware of reality, as it is. The use of the term “awareness” for October is ironic in the context of breast cancer because it is used for some dishonest purposes. Not every thing about my breast cancer is bad. Not every thing about my heart disease is bad. They are parts of my life, which include joy, pain, peace, anxiety, and all of the other experiences and feelings of my reality.

Here is a phrase I learned from Sharda Rogell, my dharma teacher at Spirit Rock Retreat Center. It is a phrase about equanimity:

“May my heart be big enough to hold the joys and sorrows without being overwhelmed.”

I’m out on a limb. I think in this moment, it will hold me.

Peace, friends.

 

After my heart attacks last spring, I signed up for a 5-day-long residential mindfulness retreat at Spirit Rock Retreat Center in Northern California. I’d never attended a residential retreat and I thought it might be a good way to increase and deepen my mindfulness practice. Further, since the retreat is mostly silent, I thought it would give me a chance to be alone with myself to see how I am doing with the whole heart attack thing. Other than one day of feeling sad and weepy, I really haven’t had a strong grief reaction. The two years I was going through breast cancer treatment were different. I had more days of “what the Hell is going on?” Another issue I thought would be good to process is my daughter’s moving out of the house for college.  Other than the first two days she was gone, I haven’t felt sad about her absence. I do worry some about how she is managing this big transition but I am mostly happy and excited for her.

After months of waiting, the retreat took place last week. I had already been on my own for a few days, having flown down early to visit family in the Bay Area. I explored San Francisco and had a lovely afternoon with my niece, Tricia, who has recently moved to Silicon Valley to start a tech company. She has a Ph.D. in neuroscience from NYU and has developed a technology with educational and mental health applications. To make a long story short, if she is successful, her work will be revolutionary. I also visited with my husband’s family in Lafayette, CA. We took a walk on the water and had a nice dinner together. My nieces and nephew have grown up quite a lot since I last saw them and I met one of them for the first time. They were bright children and teens. The conversation was lively.

The retreat started last Tuesday afternoon. I arrived with minor trepidation. Could I be silent for five days? Could I stay awake for the day’s scheduled activities, from 6:30 am to 9:30 pm? (Heart attacks have a way of pooping one out.) Would I have time to do my cardiac rehab exercises? Mostly, though, I was excited. I felt ready to challenge myself with a retreat.

The name of the retreat was “Empty Mind, Full Heart” and it was taught by Sharda Rogell, who has been teaching insight meditation since 1985. She is a wonderful teacher and kind person. The first full day of the retreat started at 6 am with the chiming of a bell through the hall outside of my room. I dressed quickly and walked out into the dark morning, pausing to look at the bright array of stars above. Once in the meditation room, I knelt on my cushion and closed my eyes. 45 minutes later, Sharda struck a singing bowl three times, and it was time to walk to the dining hall for breakfast. The rest of the schedule was pretty much as follows: sitting meditation, walking meditation, morning lesson and instruction with meditation, walking meditation, lunch, doing dishes in the kitchen as my work meditation, sitting meditation, walking meditation, dharma talk, dinner, sitting meditation, walking meditation, guided meditation, sitting meditation, and bedtime at 9:30 pm.

I may have added a few extra meditations but I will let you know that by 6:30 pm, my body ached and I was exhausted. I sat in meditation basically finding fancy reasons to get out of the rest of the meditations for the day so I could go to bed early. I thought, “I’m not going to make it until 9:30 pm!” I reminded myself that it wasn’t 9:30 pm, redirected myself to the meditation and took things one meditation at a time. The soreness was another issue. Then I realized that there were chairs available and that I wouldn’t be a huge failure if I meditated in a chair rather than on a nifty cushion that was taking away my will to live. I sat in the chair and was able to make it through the rest of the night, one meditation session at a time.

By the next day, Sharda helped us prioritize the sittings, telling us which of them were optional and which of them were not. (I was not the only one who had switched to a chair.) I took three naps that day, did all of the mandatory activities, and took two hikes up into the hills surrounding the retreat center. I felt so much better. By the next day, I could do more meditations and I kept taking walks. I did have more struggles during the retreat with meditation. Other people were, as well. For some, meditating brought up emotional struggles. For others, like me, we tended to make time pass by fantasizing or drifting off. Also, sitting still is really hard!

Meanwhile, Northern California was and continues to be, on fire. As the winds shifted, our air quality changed. One day, I could see the ash in the air. Other days were clear with blue skies. It was a reminder of how life can change in an instant.

I left the retreat feeling full of experience, of connection with the other people at the retreat center, and with a heart holding joy and heart break. I also left with my feet firmly on the ground. My heart can do a lot.

As always,

Peace

San Francisco

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Spirit Rock Retreat Center, Woodacre, CA

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Five years ago, I was diagnosed with breast cancer and after two lumpectomies, had a right side mastectomy. The right side of my body was plotting against me.

A few months ago, I had two heart attacks, spaced eight days apart. The left side of my body was plotting against me.

We my sides battling? What side was I on?

Both sides of my body are me. Diseases have threatened the integrity, the wholeness of my body. Body systems need to work together reasonably well in order to sustain life.

Integrity is not a battle. Battles don’t produce wholeness, healing does.

I can’t fight against myself, well I could, but I don’t want to. I want to live with the reality of myself. I will not take sides.

Yesterday in Charlottesville, VA, there was a terrorist attack on peaceful protestors, carried out by a young man who had joined the march for white supremacy. There were others who terrorized with hate speech.

This event was not born without historical or cultural context. There are excellent writings about this and one point that is made over and over is that given our history and our current culture, we must be vigilant. There are also many condemning the white supremacists and making statements that put them on another side,  noting that they came from out of town, they are not representative of Americans as a whole, and “this is not us.”

Humans, like other animals, have dominance hierarchies. Aggression is part of our make-up. It is a spark in each of us. For some of us, it is a small fire, and for others still, an inferno.

In my mindfulness practice, which waxes and wanes, by the way, I have found that through self-observation, I have found more acceptance. And in accepting more, I find it easier to change, to get past the guilt, shame, confusion, and denial that make me battle with myself.

We are connected by our humanity. I cannot deny that I do not share something important with people who identify as white supremacists. I believe that all are worthy of respect, respect for the intrinsic value of each person. What people do, that’s different. Respecting or condoning actions is different. It boils down to what I tell kids, “There are no bad kids. I have never met one. But what you do, can be okay or not okay.”

The acceptance of oneself, each of us with all of our flaws, allows us to remain part of humanity rather than running off in shame. It allows us to look closely at ourselves and make steps toward healing.

Our country has never worked perfectly but right now, all of the diseased parts are inflamed. It is time for self-examination and action.

We have a painful road ahead; let’s take the most healing path that we can. There are many things that I am against. I am against hateful ideology. I am against aggression. But I am also on the side of humanity.

Peace friends,

Elizabeth

I have been working half-time this week, following what turned out to be two small heart attacks. As I wrote previously, the current working diagnosis is Spontaneous Coronary Artery Dissection (SCAD). It is infrequently diagnosed and mostly seen in women in their 40’s to 50’s, physically fit, and with few or no heart attack risk factors. The cause is unknown. It is possible for dissections to heal so I am taking a number of medications to improve my heart functioning as well as to prevent the formation of blood clots. I have follow-up tests and lots to learn about heart functioning.

This was a shock, to understate things. Just two months ago, my husband and I were in Southeast Asia. We were walking through ruins in extremely hot conditions, just as we’d done when we were in our 20’s, on our honeymoon in Egypt during the summer. During the vacation, I was really pleased by the health of my body and what I was capable of doing. I thought of trips that John and I could take in the future.

Yesterday, I had a mammogram. It was normal. My 5 year “no evidence of disease” anniversary is in two weeks. This is big news that has been upstaged by my heart. In the past, I have compared cancer to a natural disaster. It can happen to anyone, no matter how virtuous. I am re-thinking that metaphor, at least in my experience. My breast cancer was more like a failed safety inspection. The treatment was to prevent a disaster. One of the harder aspects of breast cancer treatment is that it made me feel sick when I hadn’t felt sick.  The heart attack was like a natural disaster, a small earthquake followed by an aftershock. They caused damage to my heart. The medications I am taking now actually seem to be making me feel better.

Today, I have no work responsibilities or health care appointments. I am taking care of myself. I am listening to my body. Yesterday, it told me that taking a walk with a friend was a good idea and it was. Today, my body told me to sleep in. It has also told me to spend a lot of time resting on the couch. Finally, it has told me to take pause and check in with my thoughts and feelings.

One thought that passed my mind was, “I’m still healing from the cancer and now I have heart problems.” I felt the urge to cry “foul!” (And it would have been fine if I had.) My next realization is that I have always been healing from multiple wounds.

We are all healing from multiple wounds.

Be kind to yourselves, friends.

Don’t turn away. Keep your gaze on the bandaged place. That’s where the light enters you.
-Jalaluddin Rumi

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I attended the March for Science on April 22nd. I was also a member of the national Facebook group for the march. The page has a lot of members, from diverse backgrounds. There were mostly very interesting and supportive posts in this group. Some members had beliefs very different from my own, for example, the member who claimed “emotions aren’t real.”

We tend to separate our brains from the rest of our body and our emotions from the rest of our being. Perhaps, emotions are tied to concepts such as spirituality, which are seen to float around and exist apart from us. From a mental health/science perspective, however, the brain is very much a part of the body and emotions are very much a part of the brain and central nervous system.

Stress isn’t an emotion but it is tied to strong emotional states and certain life situations. Stress can be acute or chronic. Stress can be motivating. Stress can harm our bodies when it is excessive.

Last Thursday afternoon, while finishing up with my last patients of the day, I felt sudden achy pain along my upper back, accompanied by nausea. I was able to finish and then felt the same achy feeling under my arms, and in my chest. Although not the smartest thing to do, I drove myself home. When I walked through the door, my husband looked up, gave his beautiful smile, and said, “Hi Sweetie! How was your day?”.  I replied, “I am not well. Call 9-11.”

The fire department arrived less than 5 minutes later, closely followed by paramedics, the latter of which had a portable EKG machine. I was impressed by the professionalism and kindness of the first responders. They didn’t seem incredibly concerned about the readings but recommended that I go to the hospital E.R. rather than wait to follow-up with my primary care physician in the upcoming days. I agreed.

The achy pains had lessened some with the extra oxygen I had been getting since the firemen hooked me up to an oxygen tank at the house. It was rush hour in Seattle. The ambulance driver expertly dodged through traffic. Fortunately, an outstanding aspect of my city is that drivers are very quick to get out of the way of emergency vehicles.

I was admitted to the E.R. I changed into a gown and my blood was drawn for the first of what would be eleven needle jabs over less than a 48 hour period. They were testing my troponin levels and they were able to do the test bedside, instead of having to send it to the lab. Troponin is an enzyme released by the heart when it is damaged. When my nurse returned to the room, he saw the test results. (The test had been started by a phlebotomist.) He said, surprised, “This is elevated. Is this YOUR test?” He confirmed that it was.

Although no one said this outright until I was discharged, from this point until the following morning, the assumption was that I’d had a heart attack. By 6:30 pm, my pains were totally gone. I had an EKG that night followed by subsequent blood draws, one at midnight, one at 2:00 am, and another at 5:00 am. I was surrounded by kind and skilled medical staff. The night nurse, Lorenzo, was particularly good. He was kind, personable, and knowledgeable. (By the way, one thing I love about my hospital, Swedish Medical Center, is that I’ve always had wonderful night nurses. I’ve heard horror stories about other hospitals.) Lorenzo was also excellent at  communication with me as well as with the other services. Continuity of care is a huge challenge in hospitals and he was excellent in his efforts.

At 5:30 am,  I started having back and chest pain again. It was incredibly small but Lorenzo had told me to report any pain, however minor. It was also in the same location as previously. I was given nitro glycerin and when that did not totally eliminate it, I was given morphine. The pains gradually lessened and were gone by 7:30 am.

Due to the recurrence of the pain and my blood test results (the troponin levels had increased over night as well as another enzyme used as a marker for heart attack), I underwent cardiac catheterization. I was taken to the Cath Lab and the procedure was carried out by a cardiologist and a team of four others. A catheter (small tube) was inserted through an artery in my wrist and threaded up to my heart. Contrast dye was also pumped into my body through the catheter, allowing imaging of my heart and circulatory system. I was sedated, but alert, during the procedure. (By the way, it was not nearly as awful as it sounds.) About midway through, the cardiologist asked, “Has something really stressful happened to your recently?” I told him that something had happened. You see, although he could see that my heart was not compressing normally, there was no evidence of a heart attack or heart disease. As two members of the cath team wheeled me back to my room, they were visibly happy for me.

The cardiologist made a preliminary diagnosis of stress cardiomyopathy, also known as, Takosubo cardiomyopathy or more poetically,”broken heart syndrome”.  This diagnosis was corroborated by the results of an echocardiogram. Excessive cortisol, a stress hormone, can affect the heart muscle, preventing it from being able to contract fully. This results in symptoms similar to a heart attack. Unlike a heart attack or heart disease, the heart damage cause by stress cardiomyopathy typically heals in 1-4 weeks.

I was put on three new medications, two of which can have a blood pressure reducing side effect. My regular blood pressure is about 110/70. It got really low after the medications so I stayed another night at the hospital.

I was discharged yesterday afternoon. My treatment was top-notch but being in a hospital is neither restful nor fun. John had been by my side the whole time, spending nights at the hospital. We were so glad to leave!

It is now time to implement a new self-care program. These are difficult times in my country. I think they are causing chronic stress for many. I know it has for me and I’ve been left with a smaller reservoir with which to deal with new stresses that come into my life. I have left a message with the psychologist I saw during my breast cancer treatment. There are some things I really need to process as well as a need to return to a more consistent mindfulness practice.

Having a caring heart is mostly a wonderful thing but it can also be a burden. Life brings unwelcome surprises like chest pain and welcome ones like looking into a woman’s heart and not finding heart disease and blockage.

On the day of the March for Science, I wore a sign demonstrating my ongoing commitment to the importance of fostering caring hearts. Without them, there is no love, no laughter, no curiosity, no passion, and no motivation. We would also not work to protect ourselves from possible harm. Without emotions, there is no humanity.

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My daughter and husband are out tonight. I decided to watch something on television that might only appeal to me. I used to occasionally watch, The Gilmore Girls, a mother/daughter drama-comedy with very fast-paced dialogue. They brought the show back after many years for another season. I decided to watch the first episode.

The Gilmore Girls is a smartly written show with appealing lead actors. In other words, it is not a bad show. That’s not the point of this post. The opening scene of the show took place outside, in the town square. The first thing I noticed is that everyone in this town is white. The mother and daughter characters were drinking coffee from paper cups that were obviously empty. I realize that this is a common use of props in television and film. Without fail, I notice that the coffee cup is empty. I can tell by the way they handle it! There’s no weight in the cup! Why can’t they just fill it with water or something?

The all white town, then the empty cup. Next, they pass the sign for the town, “Stars Hollow”. Really? That’s hollow, too? It’s not a bad show but really, the first 10 minutes were too symbolic for me.

Life is full. If I take a drink of life, the weigh of the cup registers in my hand. It has flavors, colors, aromas, and sounds galore.

The fullness of life is a big part of what makes life so amazing.

A hollow cup is easy to understand. It is easy to master. There are no surprises.

But what, precisely is the point?

Yes, I am a bit agitated today but as always,

Peace, friends.

I attended a sitting meditation two weeks ago. The instructor read a poem at the beginning. There was a phrase in the poem that has stuck with me, “bearing reality.” Mindfulness is about bearing reality, bearing the way things are right at this moment. Daily, there are difficult realities, especially at this time. I keep reminding myself that today’s reality is not necessarily tomorrow’s reality.

But this is when it gets even more difficult. The joy of today can give way to heartache tomorrow. The fears of today can give rise to positive action. This is the bearing of possibility, the what could’s. As a psychologist and as someone who practices mindfulness, I know that living in the future is tricky business. It is important to visit future possibilities in order to plan. However, the future, though a good place to visit, is no where to live.

The challenge, in our country, in our world right now is to bear it all. We must bear reality and possibility in balance. As with “baring it all”, “bearing it all” leaves us vulnerable. Right now I am considering my options for formal activism. I have done individual acts but I have not become a member of a group effort. I have been hanging out on the edges observing possible groups. There are a lot of them, by the way. Some of you may belong to one or more of what must be one of hundreds of resistance groups across the country. Since many of these groups cropped up after the election, there is an understandable amount of disorganization and flux. I am a practical person. I don’t want a “feel good” group. I want to be part of a “do good” group. I want to be effective. There’s a gamble no matter what I choose.

Today, I am bearing reality. I am weighing my options. I am bearing possibility. These are scary and exciting times, these times of bearing it all.

Part of my mindfulness practice is to live my life with intention. I have a strong intention right now to be more of a social activist because 1) this is no time in the U.S. to feel helpless and 2) I might be able to offer something positive, however small, to the world. Also, following up on my last post, I have made a point of being more conspicuous. I have been a pretty outspoken person since about 5th grade when I first remember my teacher commenting (not negatively) about my feminism.

I find myself now, however, not just being outspoken about my beliefs but also being outspoken about my behavior and linking it explicitly to my political activism. Honestly, the U.S. presidential election initially left me feeling betrayed by a substantial proportion of my fellow citizens.  When I left my house the morning after the election, I made a concerted effort to count every act of kindness that was directed toward me. It helped me feel safer.

I have continued to do this but I have also tried hard to do positive works. And since I am putting this within the context of social activism, I have let people on social media know about what I am doing and why. I include charitable contributions, phone calls to congress, and small acts of kindness that I do with intention of creating loving social connection. Announcing my actions is my version of carrying a sign in a protest march. What if I decided to protest in the park, by myself, without a sign and without saying anything? How would anyone know what I was trying to do.  I am labeling my action. Others might feel inspired to do similar things. I know that I have felt inspired by others. I also know that when I announce my intentions in public, I am more likely to follow through.

Objective labeling is a big part of observing and being mindful. I have learned the practice of labeling my mental behaviors during meditation. When my thoughts are judgmental, I can label it by saying, “That’s my judgmental mind making judgements”. I have been taught that this is a way to stop the brain puzzles that keep me out of the moment and I have found it to be an effective technique. To be aware of myself makes it easier for me to act with intention and to respond to life instead of simply reacting to it. Sometimes I have to make a sign to myself to understand myself better.

I think of this as a practice of using signs, some turned out to the world and others directed inwardly. Both are extremely useful to me.

What’s your sign?

Peace to you, friends

Between 2012 and 2014, I had 9 surgeries; three of them were to remove cancer and the other six were to patch up the damage. Not all of my surgeries were major, but nonetheless, I spent a lot of time in a hospital gown, with my ass hanging out. I am outgoing in many ways and have been for the most of my life. However, I also spent the first 46 years of my life being fairly modest when it came to revealing my body. For example, I did not wear a swimsuit for years, because I was very self-conscious. Medical visits were another thing. I didn’t mind that so much. But when it comes to surgery, it’s different. My body was on display to a parade of people whom I did not know. Even worse, you know how I am a child psychologist and see patients and their parents for a living? Some parents work at hospitals. My hospital. To see people I knew from the community, in my role as an expert and a leader, with my ass hanging out, could have been mortifying.

Guess what? It was not mortifying. It was merely embarrassing and not gravely so. This is because, I used my mindfulness practices to stay in the present and to try to keep those thoughts that make a stressful circumstance into a mortifying one, at bay. For example, instead of focusing on how embarrassed I was and what must a person from the community think of me, I focused on her kind treatment of me. Further, the more times I was “exposed” both literally and figuratively, the less difficult it became. It was less and less embarrassing.

I feel grateful for the way I was able to cope with this. It may have been quite different earlier in my life. One of the things this coping taught me is an appreciation for my body and far less embarrassment about it. Any embarrassment I have now about wearing a swimsuit in public is really manageable. It doesn’t keep me from enjoying myself. I don’t worry about my appearance when I encounter people in the community on the days I am not in the office. I am comfortable going around town with no make-up and wearing work-out clothes. If it is raining, you will see me in a rain hat with ear flaps. It’s not cute. It’s functional. It keeps me doing the things I love to do, like taking long walks during every season of the year, which also benefit my physical and mental health. Those things are more important than being cute. I am free to be who I am, even the facets that are not cute, without embarrassment.

I have also noticed a significant decrease in my embarrassment, more generally. I used to get so embarrassed when people sang “Happy Birthday” to me. I felt very self-conscious even though on some level, I enjoyed it. Last Thursday was my 51st birthday. It was also Thanksgiving. Seventeen of my loved ones sang, “Happy Birthday” to me. For the first time in my life, the only feelings I had were purely positive. I felt happy and joyful. I thoroughly enjoyed it, smiling the whole time and being able to make eye contact with my well wishers. What a marvelous power to be able to absorb and appreciate love from my friends and family!

I have been thinking a lot lately about the power of acting in spite of embarrassment or fear. We are in times when this power is of utmost importance. Our country and culture are divided. Oppression and hatred were a problem before and now are more so. I was reading an excellent article, Eight Ways to Stand Up to Hate, published by the University of California-Berkeley’s Greater Good Action. One of the recommended strategies is “practice being conspicuous”. For example, walk around the neighborhood in a funny hat. The goal is to learn to tolerate the discomfort of being conspicuous so when we are in the presence of a stranger in need of help due to hateful acts by others, it will be easier to act and not freeze, the latter of which is a natural response for many.

These are times when it is natural for many of us to try to be careful about everything. To worry. To look for problems in everything. To accept only the perfect solution when none exists. “I don’t want to support x cause because it does not solve every problem.” We need lots of efforts and strategies to make this world a better place. Some of our efforts will only help the tiniest bits. Others will fail.

To fail by not trying is not a way I choose to be.

As always, peace to you friends.

As you can imagine, I am still reeling from the U.S. election results.  Like many have written in other blogs, my reaction was much like being told my positive breast cancer biopsy results in May 2012. A major difference is that in the case of my cancer treatment, I felt very well taken care of by competent healthcare providers. I also had relatively clear choices to make.

No, I am not saying that the election was worse than cancer. I actually don’t know.  I don’t know what will happen to my country and the world. I don’t know what my health will be like in the future. We just don’t know the future.

A lot of people has commented that the election “woke people up”. I would say that it woke some people up the way hearing a bomb blast would. Others have their eyes open, their sleeves rolled up, and are following a clear purpose and direction.

I am in neither of those groups. I am, however, trying to follow a process in mindfulness, to be awake but at ease. This means observing pain, emotions, and even thoughts in as much of a grounded way as possible.  I have had moments of being mindful and at ease since the election. That is not most moments. But I continue to practice my meditation to cultivate compassion, to be aware in the moment, and to be as active and constructive as I can be.

It is tremendously difficult but even in those moments of balance, the results have been tremendous. Those moments provide me with hope.

May I be awake. May I be free from suffering. May I be at ease.

My you be awake. May you be free from suffering. May you be at ease.

Peace.

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George Lakoff

George Lakoff has retired as Distinguished Professor of Cognitive Science and Linguistics at the University of California at Berkeley. He is now Director of the Center for the Neural Mind & Society (cnms.berkeley.edu).

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