Déjà Vu All Over Again, Mindfully

Just when I think I'm saturated, something else happens. Is it possible to be with whatever is going on in the world, and in our lives, without getting overwhelmed? Because even when we learn how to do that, there's still so much work to be done: work that to me sometimes feels empowering, but sometimes, endless. Or maybe it's both. Has it always been both? Or is it just that from now on, it always will be both? And if so, how do we practice with that? Some ideas, on today's podcast.

Transcript

Hey everybody,

It's Judy Cohen and this is Wake Up Call 316 on September 2nd.

So today's Thursday and on Monday,

Which was my birthday,

We were supposed to be at Lake Tahoe and my daughter was supposed to be at Lake Tahoe.

We were going to dinner,

No big deal,

Not a big birthday,

But we were smoked out of Tahoe,

Which I talked about last week.

And then the Calder fire came roaring over Echo Summit and into the basin of Lake Tahoe and word came that evacuations were within a few miles of our place.

So at noon on Monday,

We jumped in the cars and headed back up to the lake and it's about a three hour drive and my daughter packed to head up back to Portland,

Having essentially missed those really sparkling weeks of summer break that she was hoping to have.

And we intended to grab a bunch of things,

But as usual,

We realized there wasn't much we would take.

A sculpture that I love,

The wire owl that's been in our family since our old cabin on the other side of the lake.

Some kid,

I think I grabbed one sweater,

Two pairs of shoes and the rest of the time taking videos so I know how to rebuild if the place burns down.

And yes,

I just am saying as usual,

We realized there wasn't much we would take because this was Tejaville all over again in 2017 when the Tumps fire came at us and Sinaloa.

We also realized we didn't need to grab much because it's all just stuff in the end.

So I guess it's good to know the drill.

But the sadness.

You know,

Walking out of the house and not knowing if we'll see it standing again,

Checking insurance again,

The smoke.

The little hotels were flashing no vacancy signs because they're housing firefighters,

The shattered restaurants that had barely gotten back on their feet from COVID.

The bears burned out of the forest,

Lumbering down into town for water and food and for air.

And the boats floating in the lake like they were already orphaned.

The dalmapada says,

Few are the people who reach the other shore.

Many are the people who run about on this shore.

If I'd never packed up my car and run from a fire,

I literally have been running about,

Grabbing this,

Grabbing that,

That I have.

A lot of California has.

A lot of the world has after this summer and last.

So we know how to flee a wildfire.

We know how to relate to a COVID surge or I mean,

At least everyone,

But a few U.

S.

Governors know how to relate.

In Louisiana,

They know hurricanes in Canada and Europe and Australia,

They understand smoke and fire.

I guess pretty horrifyingly,

We know how to do terrorism and drone strikes,

Which is another thing that happened this week.

And we even know how to do abortion legislation fighting,

Although last night took things to pretty dizzying heights,

In my opinion,

Letting a law take effect that essentially vigilantizes,

That's a word,

Any private citizen who happens to not believe in a woman's right to control her own body.

When I read the order,

I really felt like I was watching Netflix and someone's going to show up in a,

You know,

A red robe.

So how do we think about reaching the other shore and not running about in these times?

And I'm guessing from practicing,

From studying mindfulness for a long time,

And I'd say it's the same thing as always,

It's déjà vu néére too.

It's letting go.

But it's not about letting go of our little place at Tahoe or about my daughter letting go of her community.

And it's,

You know,

It's not about Louisianans or Haitians letting go of their homes.

And,

You know,

With the smoke and the fires and the rains and the hurricanes and COVID,

It's not about any of us letting go of this beautiful earth.

That I think on some primitive or maybe fat primitive level,

We want to hold on to.

And I think we all just deeply love this really this small blue planet,

Even though it's ravaged right now.

And for me,

It's definitely not about letting go of the right to dominion over my own body and for the young women or for humans of any gender,

Considering what a law like that could portend.

So it's not that we need to let go of these critical things.

But then what are we letting go of to reach the other shore?

On an absolute level,

I think we're letting go of wishing things were other than they are.

You know,

We're settling into the present moment over and over and over and over and over and seeing it for what it is and being with it as it is and feeling it for what it is.

We were driving out of the Tahoe Basin.

My husband was talking about something.

I couldn't understand what he was saying.

It sounded like gibberish.

My ears were not working.

My mind was not processing.

It was all I could do to say,

Honey,

I can't hear you.

I can't even talk.

I feel so much sadness.

And I think we just have to let go into those moments.

I know that moment is going to live in my body for a long time,

For maybe forever,

Whether I want it to or not.

And so as crazy as it sounds,

I'm glad I was there for it.

Because at least now I know it's in there.

And it is so much better to know.

And from that perspective,

Then the other shore isn't the other shore of the lake where it's clear,

Which it's not.

It's the other shore of letting go of grasping and clinging,

Even when the things I'm grasping for are clinging to our clean air and memories of forests that are filled with birds and of women making intelligent choices about their bodies without worrying that some acquaintance,

A relative,

Is going to walk into the room and arrest them.

It's not those things the other shore is somehow being with things just as they are.

Sadness,

Despair,

Rage,

With no need to say the moment is anything else.

So that's on the absolute level.

That's the building capacity level.

That's the figuring out how to keep our nervous systems down-regulated and how to keep our hearts open.

That's that piece.

But on a relative level,

Yeah,

I grabbed that charcoal of Louis Armstrong that my daughter did in high school.

And yeah,

I grabbed the owl.

And yeah,

I sent money right away to the ACLU late last night.

And yes,

I told Emily to tell all her friends they're welcome in Sonoma if the fire comes.

We have beds.

I will make soup.

The dogs are all welcome.

And on a relative level,

I have so much gratitude for the firefighters who are,

Geez,

They just have to be weary to the bone and they're still fighting.

And for the aid workers in the shelters helping people weather the storms.

And you know what?

You know what?

For the lawyers,

For all of you,

For all of us fighting against this Texas law and fighting for climate initiatives and steering our students and our clients in subtle and not so subtle ways,

But in in the right direction,

In a more ethical direction,

In the direction of wisdom,

In the direction of compassion.

So the verse says,

Few are the people who reach the other shore,

Many are the people who run about on this shore.

On an absolute level,

This is no time to run about wishing things were other than they are.

It's a time to let go into the truth of what's here.

On a relative level,

As the great mindfulness teacher Pemba Children says,

There's no time to lose.

You know,

Grab the kid art,

Make soup,

Write letters,

Give money.

It's a time to grab whatever fire hose we can grab and start dousing the flames.

I feel like right now that's the only way we can reach the other shore.

So let's sit.

Coming to a posture that supports you in your practice.

Maybe before you close your eyes,

Looking around in front of you,

To the side,

In back of you.

Making sure that you feel some modicum of safety right now.

If that's possible,

I hope it is.

Dropping into the body and seeing what's here.

This could be our whole practice these days,

Just what's here.

Sorrow.

Fear,

Rage,

Whatever is here.

Finding the breath or opening the ears to sound.

The sound of nature,

If that's available.

You might be able to hear the birds here and the snow line.

They're right outside the window.

And then in opening to whatever is here,

Whatever is coming up for you,

Can you also open your heart?

And it is a difficult moment,

Which it is on so many levels for so many of us,

Or I speak for myself.

Can you put your hand on your heart or hand on your belly?

And just say to yourself,

This is a difficult moment,

Moment in my life,

Moment on the earth,

Moment in society.

This is a difficult moment.

Can you open your heart or open your body?

Can you open your heart or open your body?

Can you open your heart or open your body?

Can you maybe even step back?

Remembering that we're just here for a moment.

Can you open your heart or open your body?

Can you open your heart or open your body?

Can you open your heart or open your body?

Can you open your heart or open your body?

Can you open your heart or open your body?

Can you open your heart or open your body?

Can you open your heart or open your body?

Can you open your heart or open your body?

Can you open your heart or open your body?

Can you open your heart or open your body?

Can you open your heart or open your body?

Then if you want to,

If you want to take this last moment to think about one thing that you can do today,

One concrete action you can take,

You can do that.

Set the intention.

Write one letter,

Have one conversation,

Make one donation,

Make one pot of soup.

Thanks everyone for joining me on the wake up call today.

Be safe,

Take care,

See you next Thursday.