Freeing the Heart

Recently, I was lucky enough to teach at a retreat in a beautiful, ancient forest on the big island of Hawaii.

I do not travel much, I had never been to any of those islands, so this trip felt quite different than my “normal” life. As a result, I felt a call to stay a bit longer—two solid weeks!

My colleagues and friends and I stayed both on the big island and Kauai as an attempt to fully immerse in what continues to feel like a truly magical, otherworldly place. 

I do not think I have ever experienced synchronicity, flow, and beauty to this degree. It seemed as though every facet of the trip led to some kind of perfect adventure, expansive experience, pleasure, joy, or wonderful human connection. 

Everything seemed imbued with spontaneity, laughter, community, and the aliveness and love of Mother Earth. Everything was beautiful and everything just…worked out.   

I prayed to a volcano (and felt her response), swam (and literally danced) in the ocean nearly every day. I hiked to the most profoundly pristine waterfalls and wholeheartedly celebrated life and existence itself in the perfect, sparkling pools.

I indulged in multiple açai bowls that redefined and completely upgraded my understanding of how insanely delicious an açai bowl could be. (It was the dollop of homemade coconut cream with papaya resting on it that blew my socks off.)

The bliss continued in a thousand other ways.

How strange it felt to have this experience in this moment in human history, which has felt so worrisome, dark, and troublesome. How wonderful it felt to discover that life, while it includes pain, sorrow, and tragedy, is not defined by it. 
 
And yet during this extended cycle of joy and wonder, something amused me a few times when I bothered to notice. I even laughed out loud once or twice.

I noticed that even the most profound beauty, pleasantness, and ease that can be experienced in this earthly realm cannot fully liberate my heart.

As transformative as this trip and experience was, no aspect of it could fully uproot the deeper layers of inner struggle. 

No matter what amazingly wonderful blast of sensory experience is there to be felt, newness to explore—or even human connection that is available—I could still, if I am aware and sensitive enough, find the part of me that is not totally free. 

I am reminded of John Kabat Zinn's words: Everywhere you go, there you are.  I am reminded that awakening and a reliable form of peace, which the Buddha called the highest happiness, cannot arise from any external condition, whether it’s a person, a promotion, a place, thing, a good news article, or dollop of coconut cream.

I am reminded that it is only through an increased capacity to discover the reality of my inner world—and an increased capacity to relate to it with love—that I can begin to create a deeper shift. 

These teachings do not imply that we should not enjoy the joys of life. On the contrary, I’ve never been more convinced of the importance of celebrating being alive—and getting away, if it is possible. 

And yet I am grateful for the path. I am grateful to remember that a more lasting release from struggle does not require any particular experience—it only requires my capacity to soften in response to the present moment and skillfully navigate it. 

I am grateful for the practice, for my trust in engaging in the art of suffering, as poet, teacher, and activist Thich Nhat Hanh has written.

I am grateful that my capacity to enjoy life relies on my willingness to feel what hurts. 

I know that my willingness to experience pain makes joy so much more joyful. And helps me to recognize the truth that all things—whether painful or pleasurable—are fleeting. And that when we know this truly, it is peace that arises. 

That it is peace that is there, unchanging, beneath all that is being born, changing, and passing away. It is peace that is in the here and the now, that need not be created, only remembered. 

I am grateful to be in connection with you, and I hope that you are soaking up whatever joy is available these days and spreading it to others. 

And I hope that you are meeting pain with the soft glow of loving-awareness. And staying, waiting, being there for the transformation.