The practice of tonglen in meditation
Like everyone else lately, I’ve brought the habit of worry to a whole new level.
And, like everyone else, it’s for the same reasons . . . crumbling rights for women in America, loss of basic healthcare for women . . . waiting, waiting, waiting for this uneven state of affairs to be balanced.
By nature, I am not a worrier. And for the record, I’m not someone who meditates either.
I have dappled in both from time to time, but never as a vocation, much less a regular habit.
Typically my mind represents the standard example of rationale. I am a nurse practitioner by trade, so I have been trained to efficiently separate the anguish from the annoyance and logically pursue only legitimate differentials.
But these days, I cannot logically convince my brain to release the apprehensions it has been steadily collecting for weeks. Like beach glass with worn, sharp edges that I´ve gathered from the beach, my worry collection was starting to leave lacerations on my soul.
So I turned back to meditation and rediscovered Pema.
Pema Chödrön: My Fearless Hero
I first learned of Pema from my older brother. He gave me two of her books, When Things Fall Apart and Comfortable with Uncertainty, during a time in my life when I was dealing with other worry-inducing episodes like cancer and divorce. Not as epic as a pandemic and the loss of women´s rights, but equally life-altering.
Pema is a Buddhist monk who shares practical teachings gathered from the spirit of Mahayana Buddhism.
The word mahayana means “greater vehicle” and is the path that can lead us away from the confines of our tiny, self-absorbed minds outward toward the openness of communion with fellow humans.
The practice of tonglen bridges the gap between worry and acceptance.
Tonglen: Taking and Sending
Pursuing fearlessness and forsaking worry is not a journey for everyone. It takes a bit of consistency and a fragment of mental focus. But if all you have available is interior pole dancing, you can still make it work.
Pema claims that sitting meditation is one way to develop fearlessness in our lives. But she doesn’t just point at the pillow and tell us to sit down and breathe. She offers the practice of tonglen.
Tonglen is also known as “taking and sending.”
It is only a portion of the meditation experience and isn’t meant to be all-consuming or singled out as the only way to approach meditation.
For me, tonglen is a part of my daily meditation practice, as you’ll see below.
Tonglen is the Stickum
We all know what worry feels like. We have all experienced pain, suffering, and fear. Jealousy, hatred, and revenge. Tonglen makes it possible to welcome unwanted feelings while recognizing that everyone has experienced these emotions at some point. The real connectedness is reached when you realize that the way you are experiencing that feeling right now is exactly how other people experience it too.
As you begin to name and face the negative feelings in all their many guises, you are, in essence, acknowledging and honoring yourself. As you validate and accept what is right now, as you authenticate each legitimate feeling, there is a sense of acquiring that surfaces as you develop a kinship with the world.
As a nurse, I have spent a lifetime using culture, intelligence, race, and economic status as practical markers to help determine specific health needs and find appropriate healthcare interventions. Believe me, all of us in healthcare didn’t get there by being racist and judging others. That’s not why we have drawn these lines. We’re here to help. It’s just a part of the process that healthcare has to categorize humans in several ways in order to provide the best care.
But then there’s tonglen. This practice makes all of those lines fall away. People all over the world — regardless of cultural or racial markers, regardless of religion or financial status — feel pain as pain, just like I do. The stories may differ, but the emotions anchor us to each other.
With tonglen, I breathe in pain and breathe out calm.
I breathe in discouragement and breath out courage.
I breathe in disease and breath out cure.
I breathe in displeasure and breath out delight.
The Opposite of Worry is Acceptance
This morning I was meditating with tonglen.
On my first breath in, I sucked in the cavernous depth of worry that had been widening inside of me for weeks. And as I reached the point of exhale, quite unexpectedly, the word acceptance spilled from my being out into the world.
Maybe the opposite of worry is acceptance. I followed this trail for several more breaths.
Inhaling bother exhaling support.
Inhaling trouble, exhaling reassurance.
Inhaling the struggle, exhaling the comfort.
Resistance fading.
The soothing acceptance of this moment fully within my grasp.
The struggle weakens.
Inhaling the past and future, exhaling right now.
When worry surfaces again, I hope to be able to recognize it as a message that I’m headed for familiar territory, but I won’t have to get stuck there. Instead, I can choose to be curious about this place, to notice my response, to be mindful of my reaction, and to accept what today is.
Inhale every unsettling uncertainty, exhale permission to be.
Unrolling My Meditation Time
My husband thinks meditation is about sitting still and forcing your mind to empty out while you breathe. He is not a fan.
That’s okay. I’m obviously not a meditation guru and don’t plan on being so. For now, my meditation practice is only about five to ten minutes daily. That may change; I’m open to growth.
Here’s how my meditation time unfolds at this time, and, just for the record, it includes very few empty brain moments (that part was just in case my husband is reading).
- I light my creativity candle and turn on calming music.
- Sometimes I set a timer, depending on what comes next in my day and how much time I have.
- I begin with a few slow deep breaths, making sure I hold each inhale for a few seconds prior to exhaling. This slows life down and centers me in the moment of this experience. It allows me to begin with openness and stillness.
- I complete a body scan. From head to toe, I review each part of my body, looking for stress or tension. I envision breathing it out with a long, slow breath. I spend a moment relaxing certain muscle groups and releasing the stiffness I find inside.
- I practice tonglen. Breathing in whatever negativity surfaces and breathing out the positive. Breath in fear, breath out peace. Staying open to whatever comes up.
- I practice gratitude, naming at least one thing I am grateful for. Today it was the ability to pee without difficulty. Don’t judge; I’ve been writing a piece on urethral strictures, and I am so thankful things are good down there.
- I envision the future I want for myself and the world. Honestly, I spend far more time envisioning my own future in detail than I do for the world at large. I’m still developing that kinship with all beings things.
- I reflect on the day ahead and vow to use each minute as the precious gift it is.
Practicing tonglen has opened my heart to compassion and continues to widen my view of the world.
I am grateful for the clarity I received today, and even though worry can linger, the weight of it is less melancholy as it becomes a much less faithful companion.
Even if tonglen isn’t a fit for you, I hope your inhales and exhales today are evenly weighted.
In peace and love.
