The effect of consistent practice of the self-compassion break exercise has been subtle but deep. In some ways, it feels like the effect snuck up on me. As I practiced it every morning, it took on the feel of being rote and I wondered if I had made a poor decision in choosing it as a daily practice, perhaps it wasn’t a juicy enough practice.

If I wasn’t experiencing some sort of strain or stress at the time of meditation, the directions of the practice asked me to recall a time of suffering, a situation requiring self-compassion. Quite a few mornings of these last two weeks I found myself needing to recall a time of distress to engage the practice as it is written. The first few times this occurred, it felt alright to recall a past experience of suffering, yet as it continued, it felt more like I was needing to stir something up and this felt counter-intuitive to a daily meditation practice of being with what is. So, I modified the exercise to the immediacy of my experience, rather than reaching for something which qualified as distress or suffering.

The poet Hafiz is attributed with saying, "I felt in need of a great journey, so I sat still for three days." Two weeks into this journey of compassion through the vehicle of compassion-based practices has had elements of both a great expedition and the quiet of sitting still.

As I detailed in my initial blog, I chose Tonglen as the first practice of this year. In the past, I have had some difficulty with Tonglen in that I have actually found it hard to connect to feelings of suffering using the practice. I think it is because of the quickness of the practice. By quickness I mean taking in suffering on the in-breath and sending out relief on the out-breath. The turnaround of suffering to relief in the span of one cycle of complete breath did not afford me the time to connect to either the feeling of suffering or of relief. I have felt with Tonglen, that I am riding on the surface of feeling, not connecting with them.

I had a similar experience this time, so I explored ways to feel connection.

I’m inspired to engage in a year-long journey dedicated to compassion-based practices. Self-love and compassion are a central focus of my spiritual life. I have engaged in many compassion-based practices; however, I often only call on them when I need them. I haven’t adapted them on a daily basis. I feel a calling to do so.
 
Recently I have become more aware of how key compassion is to bravery, courage and strength. The world seems to ask me, to ask us, to be braver and braver just to show up in life each day. A couple of years ago during my meditation teacher training, my teacher, Jack Kornfield said the capacity of the human heart is infinite, it is our birthright. Those words entered and pierced my heart. I knew in my deepest of knowing what he said was true. I felt a shift inside of me, as if somehow this truth had just saved me.
 
It seems dramatic to claim that, to say I was saved. I’m just not sure how to say it otherwise. Somehow the knowledge, and this isn’t just a cognitive knowing, this is a full heart, mind, being knowing, that my heart is infinite allowed me to stand a little taller, be a little braver, and to be more fully myself.
 
My life did not drastically change. I did not suddenly become some all-knowing, enlightened being, but a different possibility of life opened in me. I feel like I have been on an exploration of that possibility since then. I have been exploring and learning what it means to have the capacity of an infinite heart, because even though I know it is true, I don’t fully know how to live with and from an infinite heart. The exploration has been wondrous, messy, exciting, painful, gut wrenching and life affirming. And, I have discovered, takes a great deal of courage.
 
An interesting thing about an infinite heart is that while it takes a lot of courage to live from, it also, in turn, gives a lot of courage. The courage and compassion I am discovering is so much more than what exists inside this human form. I feel as if there is the heart in my chest, my physical and emotional heart, and there is the infinite heart within which my human heart abides, is a part of. There is a distinction, yet the hearts are one. The teacher Adyashanti refers to this distinction as the human emotional heart and the spiritual heart. I feel the spiritual heart is the infinite capacity Jack spoke of. Two different ways of expressing the same truth.
 
To be of service as the world is asking me, I feel the need and desire to be braver. I feel the need and desire to increase the strength of my heart. I feel the need and desire to experience and know more and more of the infinite heart, to know what it means to show up in life with an infinite heart. I feel the need and desire to more readily know and trust the infinite capacity of my heart when I have doubt. I want to remember more readily when I forget. This is where the inspiration for a dedicated year-long journey into compassion-based practices is rising from.
 
It feels to me there is a lot of attention being given to the power of compassion right now. Another of my teachers, Tara Brach, has just published a new book Radical Compassion. Kristen Neff, who has been researching self-compassion for many years and is one of the leading researchers on the topic, over this last year has been putting more emphasis on the role compassion plays in providing us energy and impulse for action and fostering resilience. These are just a couple of the voices speaking about compassion, many with an emphasis on self-compassion. I feel this surge of compassion is also energizing my inspiration.
 
My plan is to choose a compassion-based meditation practice and incorporate it into my daily mediation practice. I will engage with the practice for several weeks and see what unfolds, then choose another compassion-based practice and so on. I will also bring the intention of compassion into my other spiritual practices of proprioceptive writing and Continuum. I will engage with those practices at least once a week. Lastly, I will share my journey here on this blog (you can follow using the subscribe feeder below or register for my email list) and through my Instagram, @heartawakemindfulness. I’ll let you know what practice I am doing at the time and share reflections, experiences, challenges and insights. If you choose to try any of the practices, I’ll be eager to hear of your experiences. A friend recently said as she wished me a Happy New Year, “may the year of perfect vision (20/20) bring clear seeing and insight.” I hold that wish for this journey.
 
I will be engaging with tonglen, an ancient Buddhist practice of “taking and sending” as the first practice of this journey. I first learned this practice from Pema Chodron’s book When Things Fall Apart (public library) more than twenty-five years ago. It is often taught with the pain and suffering of others as the central focus. I will also be applying it to my own direct experience of pain and suffering. Tonglen instructions are readily available. Here is an article by Pema, and a couple of videos of her teaching the practice.
 
I’ll write again in a couple of weeks to let you know how the practice is going.
 
May all beings know compassion. May all beings be free from suffering. May compassion bloom in my heart. May compassion support you.
 
 

What does it mean to see the world as a meditator? Eyes soft, bright and wide. The full moon rising over the building across the street. The crisp white of the new Jeep waiting at the red light outside the window of this cafe. The shadows of my hand and pen on the paper becoming refined from the internal light as the natural light of the world outsides fades from dusk to dark. A shared, gentle kiss on the cheek between two friends as they meet beside me at the end of this unseasonably warm day, the last day of February of a year that seems to have just begun yesterday.

Our bodies can be a great ally in mindfulness practices. The body is right here with us all the time and by turning our attention towards the immediate experience of our body we quickly bring ourselves into the present moment.
 
Many people, however, are very cut off from the experience of their body. For some this is a survival strategy as a result of trauma or assault.