Motherhood is My Greatest REFUGE

Just as we got to the gates of the Insight Meditation Center, I looked at all the kids playing in the yard and figured, "that must not be it." and kept driving down Pleasant Road. What retreat center would be filled with that many children? Oh, the one hosting the annual Family Buddhist Retreat. I turned around and sure enough, that was exactly where we needed to be.

Walking into the front door of IMS for the first time, I was overcome by a shyness and awkward feeling.... we are a long way from anything familiar. These people... I don't know any of them...who are they? will I fit in? OMG, I don't fit here at all... It wasn't Zman I was worried about... it was me. Looking around at the excitement, the people who knew each other, catching up on life's details ... I found myself retreating... sitting quietly, turning my social uncomfortability into a mindfulness practice.

We gathered for the first time as a group in the hall. Each of us had claimed our spot for the week. Sitting close to the front and off to the side meant easy access to the escape hatch and we didn't have to see all the people we don't know. Safe. We held hands, participated in the singing, and hoped that the week would be healing for our challenged relationship. Yeah, you should know... the Zman and I struggle a lot in our relationship. It is filled with lots of challenges. We agreed to set intentions to cure things, be honest, share and find our way back to the sweet spot where laughter between us reigns supreme.

That anonymity didn't last long, we were asked to STAND UP (omg) in front of all the sangha, and when the teacher asked if someone would be our buddy family... there was no response. Oh, we're them, those people no one wants to like. Oh us? But that lasted for only a few more moments, and I made my first connection ... we found our buddies.

The topic of the weekend was Refuge. Over the course of the retreat, I accepted and trusted that I could take refuge in my new found sangha, and when I made that choice to trust... possibilities began to emerge. I made authentic connections that lead to meaningful discussions. It took a day or two to accept, we were exactly where we needed to be... among our sangha. I met so many amazing people who had so much to teach me and commiserate about the challenges we face as parents on the path. The conversations that evolved over the course of the retreat illuminated so much for me. I never expected to find those connections when I arrived at IMS on Saturday afternoon. In my heart, I know I have found refuge in this sangha for which I'm immensely greatful.

In my one on one work with one of the teachers, I allowed her to take me to one of the darkest places I go... and realized, I do have the ability to be mindful in the greatest states of anger. My practice serves me better than I realize, and I should create more openings for mindfulness in even the darkest of moments.

There is refuge in my mindfulness. There is refuge on my cushion. There is refuge in others. There is refuge in my heart. I can be safe, happy and free in the dharma. There is room for me in practice... and for the first time in a long time.. I felt I belong.

Belonging in the Buddhist community has been something I've struggled with immensely. After some dharma drama last year, the demise of the DPXHV group and the issues that arose ... I let my delusion punish me and teach me that I'm not worthy of the practice. This is not the case. I'd like to proudly say, the dharma isn't something that is deserved, it is earned and wow, I HAVE EARNED IT!

I also fully recognize, that I'm a total newb, that my green state of being makes me nothing more than a student. I have plenty of time to savor and learn, grow and bloom. No need to rush when there are so many gifts to be received in the practice.

Over the course of five days... I learned so much... I didn't expect the personal work to be there, but it was. I chose to be rigorously honest, and open myself to this new 'net'... and take Refuge in this new found sangha. What a gift!

Some things I've uncovered... Joy is a choice ... and something both my son and I want to cultivate in our daily lives. We choose Joy!!!

Using my angry scary mommy voice is not a useful or skillful tool. I can find other ways to be softer and still get across the message without the excessive force of my great intensity. There is a way to present clear intention without the intention to force 'fear'.

My perception that arises from assumptions is not accurate. I am causing harm by assuming I know better than anyont else. In many instances, I can easily arrive at an idea that I know what is best in a situation... but when I let go .. listen, absorb and take time to get all the information... I can discover.. I have much to learn.

I was reminded in a dharma talk about the perils of our attachment to sense pleasures, and was given permission to begin again anytime I want to. We talked about that idea of having a safe space in which to practice, and the value of reminding people of their gifts rather than exposing how they disappoint us. These clues, lessons and reminders earmarked places in my citta and my hope and intention is to utilize them the next time those feelings of discomfort arise.

My son is one of my greatest teachers. From him I continue to learn so much. He is my true refuge. To him, I show deep gratitude for teaching me the true meaning of Metta and giving me a purpose of service I never knew I'd be able to perform.

Rot Town Road Trip

What a difference a day makes... after a chaotic dramatic Sunday, I entered Monday... open to getting the eff out of dodge and driving an unbelievable five hours to facilitate a 1.5 hour Rochester Dharma Punx meeting.  I wasn't sure what was going to ensue, what I would offer or what kind of service I could be to anyone else.  My head and heart were battered and done in, my emotional equanimity all off quilter.  When I'm not really in a good balanced place, I often feel like a bamboozling shamster, like those guys who used to sell the magic elixir tonics at the turn of the century.  I know how to fix you, drink this!

I don't think I really evaluated the length of the drive before I planned on making the journey.  It was quite the long venture.

Mind you, I actually LOVE being in my car for long periods of time, I talk on the phone, play my music loud and enjoy the people watching and of course, my love of driving fast is affectionately sated on 270 miles of never ending highway.  I was looking forward to my drive time, but snags in the drama of the life I can't control through my co-pilot into the mix, Zbot ended up coming along for the ride.  My much-anticipated five hours of alone time was now altered to be keeping the kiddo calm time.  We argued over the music, had to stop all the times he had to pee, had to get him food at some MacDonald’s at a rest stop.  This was not part of the plan.  Nothing leading up to my adventure was part of the plan and let me tell you, life through me some wretched dramatic curve balls before I left for my Rot City adventure.

By the time I landed at the White Lotus Tibetan Buddhist center I was so incredulously emotionally and physically exhausted, I had the shakes.  I was worried that I'd be that tonic selling con woman, with nothing authentic to offer.  I had rehearsed parts of my dharma talk in my head in the car in between Zbot's ramblings and debates over iPod music selection.  I felt like a lower percentage of whole myself, about to present the dharma to a group of strangers who most likely had some expectations about me.

Upon arrival in Rochester, we got a quick bite, which I was very excited about.  Instead I spent most of the meal begging my son to eat the quesadilla generously given to him, which was draining on my wanting to devote my attention to my hosts.  He was defiant, as he is so very good at.  I felt last shreds of my spiritual groovy capabilities slipping from me.  .... and I HAD TO PEE!  The restaurant wouldn't offer me the use of their bathroom, and I seriously felt my teeth floating the entire meal. 

It was time to begin the meeting.  I had all sorts of things with me, readings, my cushion, my phone that I use as a timer to arrange.  Desperately, I really needed to find a bathroom.  I felt like I'd never find that settling space I'm so attached to so that I can do my soft shoe.  On top of the hustle to be ready for the meeting, I had my son whimpering about the computer not working and not being able to find his favorite game screaming, oh gads SCREAMING from the other room, "mommy ... mommy."  Let me tell you, this shit combined with life's laywoman responsibilities is really fricking hard.  I did manage to leave him behind with a stern tone, and nestled myself into my cushion hoping to find space from the stress of the journey and the day behind me.

That is when I quietly took a breath, and another one, and another one, I forced a smile upon my face which gradually went from fixed to authentic as I opened myself to the room, the new faces, the energy of the space and the decor and the Buddhas.  In the way I instruct so many others, I set an intention to be of service and my intention was to be in service to EVERYONE who was in that room. That is when the release came.  I was relieved of my chaos the moment I set an intention to care for others.  When I let go of my needs and self-interest, I became abundantly present and even excited for the moments that would follow.

Like magic, my overall well-being shifted when I made the moment about a bunch of somebody else’s and got over the 'Me Me Me'.

The meeting was amazing, for me.  I loved being able to share my take on the dharma, my understanding of the story and the history and my passion for practice.  I tuned in to each and every person and brought in his or her ideas.  I abandoned the talk I rehearsed from days before, to the night before and on my way in the car for hours and hours.  The discussion was about what the group chose and I was neutral about changing everything up for the conscious of the group experience.  The meeting went an hour longer than usual.  People took turns and shared honestly.

What I was reminded was that there is a reason I've been working so hard at this stuff.  I do have a purpose in this community, there is sangha for me wherever I go.  I do have something beautiful to offer even in my darker times, all I have to do is turn my attention outward toward the betterment of others and the love of people besides myself.  All the craving and dissatisfaction I had arrived with had become irrelevant.

I drove home a different person because I've re-focused my effort towards the connection I have with others.  My priorities are not on what I'm not getting in my life ... I'm putting my energy towards being in service and sharing what I can to help others combat their suffering.  I have two new sponsees in the Buddhist recovery scene as of today.  I'm elated to be working one on one with people who want what I have.  Wow, what a concept.  People actually want what I have?  If only they know all the other stuff I endure... hah hah... well, I am only a mere mortal human, just like everyone else.

Dysfunctional Loot Relationship

It's been a while since I felt that desperate, painful, junkie feeling of despair and desperation.  It's dismal when there's nothing left to hold onto and the craving to check out is immensely powerful and takes priority over everything else.  I can recall the days living in the W. Village in the mid-90s, cranked out and tweaked out, living with a guy on a futon in the living room of a small one bedroom railroad apartment so I could be close to a 'supply' and have a roof with a working air conditioner.  In those days, my life was devoid of reality, love or serenity, and I was pretty much broke and very broken.

In those blocked out countless junkie days, my life was constantly spiraling further and further out of control.  My only anchor was my ability to hustle.  I'm a very good hustler.  No matter how devoid of cash I was, I was always able to get just enough to have what I needed to stay up.

In those days, my idea of essentials and needs included cigarettes, a few cool clothes, crank, vinyl, guest list and hustling to make even more money to continue to afford a nighttime clublife lifestyle in a land of fantasy in the underbelly of New York City's downtown.  In this world, I was an expert and knew my way around.

My hustling skills continued to improve.  I clawed my way up, and starved for more money in the same way I needed a bigger fix of the illicits.  Money would line my pockets in fat rolls, organized neatly with all the heads facing up and in numerical bill order.

When I stored thousands of dollars in that Victoria's Secret box hidden in my suitcase, the money was neatly bundled and organized, I knew exactly what I had and how it was stashed.  As long as the box was full, I was at ease. 

In the years that followed, I hustled my way towards a legitimate life, hustling PR job after PR job, trying to shirk my shady reputation and become 'the best person I can be'.  I remember when I was offered a job at a real PR agency for $70K/yr, wow... legally making $70K.  I had plans, moving it around, not blowing it on tons of clothing and crap... keeping some in a safety net and with that... I was at ease. 


On Sept 10th, 2001 I was making $250K.  We had a nice apartment, some new Ikea furniture, money in savings, and I was at ease.  On September 11th, that all went away, and I was in panic and distress.  This is the feeling I'm speaking of, that fear that I won't have what I need, food, shelter, and that tucked away stash to keep me at ease.

FF..... more than a decade later.

These days, I make less than I made when I first graduated from college.  I'm very cool with that.  As I've aged, I've come to terms with the fact that the hustle doesn't make me happy anymore, and neither does the large sums that can't buy me what is really important in life.... LOVE. 

I've simplified our lives, we live in a little cabin, I don't shop for anything but food, gas, books and toys.  Don't have a smart phone or a new iPod.  I barely wear make up or worry about appearances in that way I did in my publicity diva days.  We need very little to have a lot.  We live in the mountains.  I spend my money on activities like snowboarding, surfing and travel.  And I do it all for not just me but for me and my son.  All of the money is not for 'I' but for 'US'.

My fragile financial situation took a serious nosedive last month, I found myself with NO income at all.  And I was NOT at ease anymore.  Money is an attachment and security blanket I need in order to be equanimous.  When I turned my computer on and found that my income was totally halted, my balance shifted.  My serenity raped.  Flustered I spent days scrambling for work, any work, anything to bring in money to obliterate my panic.

Like the junkie days, I found myself scrambling online to find work, any work.  The situation was humbling and humiliating.  My survival instincts to make sure we had enough kicked in hard.  I was prepared to do just about anything to make sure we were going to have 'enough'.  

Fear of Financial Insecurity is my Mara**.  When my economic situation wanes, my peaceful serenity is obliterated by my immense fear and panic.  It's just like I felt back in the old days tweaking for more junk.  I tweak for more money.

The question is, is there any way around it?  Can I exist peacefully with nothing to line my pockets?  Well, I sure didn't try to this past month.  I've been a basket case, emotional disaster, craving a way to check out of my skull and numb myself to the painful cravings to have my accounts be at that 'right' amount so that I am comfortable, and so I feel at ease.

It's all relative, the modicum of money I need to pad our savings these days feels just like the money in the Victoria's Secret shoe box of yesteryear, even though the amounts are drastically different, their significance is still very much the same.  

I definitely have a dysfunctional relationship to money.  I grew up in home where there was plenty of it, multiple houses, mercedes, club memberships and the best of everything.  Then, by the time I was in college, it was all gone and I had to learn to scramble and make it for myself.  I have done a lot to shed my need for being financially wealthy.  Sure, I envy friends I grew up with who have so much more than me materially.

Tonight... on my drive home, I stopped at the farm stand.  In my ragged tank top, short skirt and rain boots.   I picked out a few local fruits, veggies and cheeses amongst the NYC Trendoid Weekenders in their Prada Flip Flops making an attempt to look hipster 'country'.  I used to be them, craving to get out for a weekend in 'the Country'.  I chatted with the cashier, put my things in my reuseable shopping bags, and mindfully walked through the puddles in the parking lot to my car.  Inhaling the sticky humid summer air, feeling the light breeze on my cheek, noticing the stars overhead, I took my time to enjoy the experience as a New Yorker escaping the city.  But I don't have to escape!  I live right here, where they all want to visit.

Enough is such a scary idea, what is enough.  For me, enough is more than food, gas and bills.  Enough is experience, love and peaceful home.  I've worked my ass off to get where I am today.  Money is just money, it comes and goes.  I give way to much power to something so meaningless.

I have much to explore about needing money to be at ease.  I don't think I fully have a solution to this one yet. 

** Mara is the demon who bothered the Buddha throughout his life.  Like the devil sitting on your shoulder telling you to do bad things.