This practice is about simply softening into the present — gently.
About moving gently into the next moment, to the next breath.
Gentle awareness invites us to meet our experience with kindness, not control. Giving ourselves permission to embrace the next moment with openness.
May we all remember the power of being gently aware.
Aware, by Denise Levertov
When I found the door I found the vine leaves speaking among themselves in abundant whispers. My presence made them hush their green breath, embarrassed, the way humans stand up, buttoning their jackets, acting as if they were leaving anyway, as if the conversation had ended just before you arrived. I liked the glimpse I had, though, of their obscure gestures. I liked the sound of such private voices. Next time I’ll move like cautious sunlight, open the door by fractions, eavesdrop peacefully.
For most part of 2024, we’ll be focusing on slowing down in our Wednesday Pause sessions. The starting point would be to sit.
Sitting lowers our center of gravity, enabling us to feel more grounded.
Then using the outbreath, we bring the mind back to reminding ourselves to slow down, to become conscious that we’re sitting, how we’re sitting.
The invitation is to practice this whenever you have moments to pause, say when you are in the train or bus. Even when you are driving and stopping to wait for the lights to turn green, you can check in with the body, reminding yourself to slow down, to notice how you are sitting.
Too often, we’re rushing from one idea, task, place to another. This is an invitation to just live – slowing down, and allowing the mind and body to unpack what is going on and process emotions and sensations. Inspired by Thich That Hahn’s poetry Drink Your Tea.
Drink your tea slowly and reverently, as if it is the axis on which the world earth revolves – slowly, evenly, without rushing toward the future; Live the actual moment. Only this moment is life.
Patience is said to be a virtue to help us deal with distress or when things are not going our way. Underlying patience is humility, and so here’s a practice on humility. Humility is not about cancelling out our voice or lowering our self-esteem. Rather it’s the quiet confidence that we can go about our lives without needing overt validation. When we become like the bald eagle that flies towards the storm, only then can we go above it and become more.
surrendering like an eagle, Noelle Lim
if we remind ourselves of our imperfections
tell us we’re not good enough
punishing the fragile ego
life becomes a suffering
but what if we can be for changing
if answering setbacks
means leaving outside the ego
the enemy of courage locking us in a wallow
instead, why not surrender and accept
on hand, a willing heart
to life’s irregular cracks and weathering
we’ll see the play of her seasons
and witness the glory of her possibilities
let life not beat us down
instead, accept her grand invitation
to climb onto her big, strong wings
like those of the bald eagle
that flies towards the storm
gliding higher, gathering more strength, more speed
When I was researching for this poem, I searched for what transforms in 100 days. Turns out that sunflowers take about that amount of time to develop seeds. And so I use sunflowers as the metaphor, and draw on William Blake’s poem “Ah Sunflower”. Enjoy!
Story-poem written and read by me as part of Calm in Chaos meditation series. The theme for the week was Intentions (Purpose). As a background, using the train journey a young lady takes from New Delhi to Bodh Gaya where Siddartha Gautama attained enlightenment.
New Delhi
The stationmaster of curiosity asks, “My dear, where are you heading?”
“To Bodh Gaya”, I reply, hoping to impress
“Ah, the City of Enlightenment.”
“Yes sir, I go there to find wisdom.”
“But my young lady, enlightenment is a journey, not the destination.”
*******
Inside the train, beside a small cracked window, I take my seat
A disheveled man jumps in as the train leaves. He sits across
“Let’s be friends,” he says, passing me a white daisy flower
“I escaped from prison.”
“Why do people run away?” I ask him
The train rumbles along
“People run away when they have desires,” he says,
And gets off at Lucknow.
*******
A lady in black makes an entry and sits across
“Let’s be friends,” she says, passing me her silky shawl
“My husband died, and left me penniless.”
“Do you have desires?” I ask her
People around murmur in conversation
“Desires and regrets are illusions, they’re not real,” she says,
And gets off at Varanasi.
*******
A soldier of one leg, hobbles in and sits across
“Let’s be friends,” he says, passing me his cross
“I lost my leg in the war.”
“Do you have regrets?” I ask him
Shadows of rolling hills pass us
“Regrets I have none, purpose is what I have,” he says,
And gets off at Sasaram.
*******
A man with a straw hat enters and sits across
“Let’s be friends,” he says, passing me his last piece of bread
“I am a tourist.”
“What is your purpose?” I ask him
Amidst the din of the train clatter
“I want to live kindly,” he says
*******
Final destination
The train comes to a gentle halt
A quiet end to its noisy symphony
The conductor helps me with my bags: “Where do you wish to go from here, missy?”
“I am where I need to be now,” I reply
“Ah my young lady, are you here to get enlightened?”
“No sir, enlightenment is the journey, not a destination,” I say
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