The journey to the center of it all.

That journey that you are on, how far does it go? How do you know when you have reached the end? Is there an end?

A pilgrimage is an interesting journey to set out on. You set out with intention, and then you traverse the journey to its destination. You might set out on the Camino de Santiago in Spain, circuit Mount Kailash in Tibet, or travel St. Kevin's Way in Ireland. Each charts its own course through a living story full of meaning.

Each and every step of the pilgrimage is a call to presence. Our days are considered holy when we traverse the path with presence, bearing witness to those who have gone before us and in whose footsteps we now travel. We are waking up to the fact that the journey we are on is not about my awakening, but our awakening. We encounter a cohort of travelers on a path that looks much like our own. 

But a pilgrimage is not a destination. That would be site seeing. A pilgrimage requires a journey, a circuitous route through barren landscapes and difficult passes. The twists and turns of the journey unravel our old habits and perceptions and weave together a new story about who we are and our place in the world.

When we reach the end of the pilgrimage, we are faced with the difficult choice of how to move back into the world. We acknowledge the fundamental change that we have experienced, and are faced with the difficult choice of how to take that next step forward.

Each and every thing.

This cup of tea.
A blooming flower.
The trees bending and waving in the wind.
Silent observance.
Each and every thing,
beckoning you,
calling you to presence,
asking you to bear witness
to it all,
while holding onto
nothing whatsoever. 
This perfection of generosity,
is not the giving
of every thing,
but being open
to every thing.
Every thing
is an offering,
as an expression
of pure presence.

Getting closer.

In meditation we get closer to the pain, closer to dukkha, closer to reality, closer to the situation as it really is. We learn how to sit in that space, not doing anything. We learn how to gain the composure necessary to be there, to be present, to witness and stay engaged, but not to react.

Normally, amidst pain and chaos and confusion, we tend to shut down. We tend to close ourselves us, put up our guard, insulate ourselves. Protection is a normal response to fear and uncertainty.

In our practice, we don't need to deliberately choose pain or subject ourselves to tortuous situations, but we can choose to stand amidst the pain. We can choose to be present instead of reacting and shutting down.

A genuine practice authentically aligns us with the world and others around us. It's okay to be close to the pain. Our pain is real.

Compassion, redefined.

I have spent a lot of time leading meditation workshops and discussions about compassion. Most people tend to focus on the action of compassion. Compassion means helping the homeless, feeding the hungry, tending to the sick. Compassion means doing. If you take the action out, then somehow compassion seems to fall away.

This type of compassion is results focused. It needs to demonstrate an impact. No impact, no meaning.

The Buddha taught this type of compassion as 'normal' compassion. This is the type of compassion that we have for our friends and family, and even to strangers in times of crisis or shared humanity. We see this type of compassion in certain mammals, this natural instinct to take care and nurture our loved ones for our own welfare and survival.

When we are trying to cultivate compassion in meditation, we are trying to cultivate unconditional compassion. This is compassion that is objectless and unbiased. For this type of unconditional compassion, we need a new definition of compassion.

Unconditional compassion is open, available and responsive.

It is open- receptive, accommodating, vulnerable.
It is available- present, alert, attentive.
It is responsive- dynamic, engaged, attuned.

Unconditional compassion is focused on being, not doing. Being open, available and responsive, we can offer others our attention and understanding, we can acknowledge the pain and suffering they are going through, we can stay with them through struggle and strife. Embodying this unconditional compassion, we can offer others our warmth, kindness and generosity, or we can simply be present, listen, and witness.

"I see you" and "I hear you" can be more powerful than offering a solution. Compassion doesn't always need to have an answer, we don't always need to provide a fix. Sometimes offering others dignity and understanding are enough.

We can learn to rest in a state of openness, availability and responsiveness. We can learn to rest in unbiased equanimity, allowing ourselves to witness our own pain and the suffering of others. We can learn to be patient with adversity and ugliness, to witness rather than react, to embrace rather than reject.

And we can learn to carry this openness, availability and responsiveness off the cushion. We can carry it into our homes, our communities and into the world. We can walk with openness, be present and available in the world, and respond and engage with the way things are.

An open door.

The greatest gift that we can often give others is to simply be present and to listen.  We don't need to fix, provide solutions, or rush in with all of our own energy. Simply witness, understand, and remain open to whatever is coming up.  

When we can truly listen, without judgement or bias, without shutting down or turning away, then we can truly be of benefit. We can hear what they need, and they might feel comfortable enough tell you.

The door is always open.