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A Shift In Perspective (a story about a time when I was wrong)



I remember when I first met my bunkmate on a three-day silent mindfulness meditation retreat.  I discovered her first by the sound of her stopwatch chiming in a very loud, annoying, twang, “bleep, bleep, bleep,” over and over again on repeat.  I had been resting on the top bunk, gently snoozing away in the warmth of the afternoon breeze coming in through the rustic window in which we would be housed for the next three nights.  Her presence was bombastic and jarring amidst the peace and stillness I was beginning to cultivate for myself.  Immediately I thought, “Oh, no, this is going to ruin everything!  My entire weekend will be dealing with this person in the space of peace I was trying to create for myself.”

 

I shifted in my bed to attempt to inform her that she was not alone in this room of four bunks and that indeed someone else had arrived prior to her.  She didn’t seem to notice my shifting and creaking in the bed above hers, so I cleared my throat and shifted a little heavier this time to try and make her aware of my presence above.  This time it did the trick and she immediately bounced up to see who and what had caused the sound. 

 

When she stood up, I took in her full expression.  She was a wiry little thing with scrawny arms, thin, long waste, and bony legs that buckled in slightly at the knees beneath her tan khaki shorts.  She wore a salmon pink tank top and her slightly off-white bra straps peeked out from beneath the thin straps of her tank, like they were children peaking from behind the pantleg of their mother’s trousers, who hadn’t done a proper job fully shielding them.  She had dark brown, mousy, shoulder-length hair, and the ends of the layered strands drifted away from earth’s gravitational pull, almost as if they were trying to escape from her frenetic energy as well.  She wore black, frayed, Teva sandals in which her long, bony, unpainted toes peered over the front edge of, while her face was framed with pearl pink glasses that either made her appear as if she was four years old or a sixty-five-year-old school marm.  

 

Her expression was one of total bemusement.  She immediately extended her hand and said in a “too loud a voice for the tranquility of this retreat space” volume, “Hi, my name is Marta, what’s yours?”  Then, before I could answer, she immediately dove into a diatribe of where she’d come from, how she arrived, the bus, and the schedule she’d taken, and so on and so on.  I continued to stare at her and take it all in.  Again, I thought to myself, “Why on earth did I have to get stuck on this retreat with this creature?!?”

 

I cleared my throat again and whispered to her, “I think we’re supposed to be in silence already.  I’m taking a little nap before we need to meet in the meditation hall in 20 mins.  My name is Tamara.”  Then, I smiled politely and watched to see if she’d received and understood the information I’d just given to her.  It seemed like it had landed, and she quickly nodded her head and made a little sheepish shrug and motioned an index finger over her thin lips, as if to say, “Oh yes, I’ll practice shooshing myself now”.

 

I gently rolled over to my left shoulder so that I could turn towards the wall, away from her, and closed my eyes, anticipating that once again, I’d drift into a soft little rest before I had to get up and go to the meditation hall.  Two minutes after I closed my eyes, the alarm from her watch twanged again – “bleep, bleep, bleep”.  This time she apologized, too loudly, once again, “I’m so sorry, I can’t figure out how to turn this thing off.”  This time, I took this interference as an opportunity to make change.  “Okay, I thought to myself, I’m being called into action, and it’s time for me to help this poor, frazzled, girl.  She must be in desperate need of guidance.”

 

I hoped down from my bunk, again pursed my index finger to my lips, reminding her of the silence, and I gently gestured asking if it would be ok for me to have a closer look at the alarm function on her watch.  She quickly stuck out her wrist and I began manipulating the devise to find the exact setting that would properly mute the cacophony of sound that kept emanating from her wrist every few minutes.  I found the tab, made a swipe gesture, and click – switched it to silence.

 

I gave her a thumbs up and she immediately pulled me in for a deep hard squeeze and a hug.  She was incredibly strong and forceful for such a little thing.  Again, without being silent, she thanked me profusely, and I shrugged, gesturing with a wave of my hands, “it was no big deal.”  I was so struck by her warmth and openness.  I decided at that moment that I wouldn’t allow my initial judgements of her to affect the weekend ahead and that perhaps I could learn to “live with her” for the next three days.  But I also thought to myself, “this isn’t going to be easy.”  The universe had set me up with the perfect challenge.




 

We spent the rest of the weekend completely inseparable.  Everywhere I went, she went too.  She was like my little shadow.  At first it was awkward and I was annoyed, and I kept having to remind myself of my choice, “I’m not going to allow myself to be irritated by her.  Instead, I’m going to accept and embrace her for all the quirks, exactly as she is.”  I would find a seat in the meditation hall and then she would hop down alongside me.  I would leave the room for lunch, and she’d come trailing behind two minutes later.  Eventually, I started to save her a seat.

 

Soon enough, we were walking alongside each other on nature paths around the property.  We would meditate near one another for each silent sit, despite her moving and adjusting frequently, she was always restless.  We ate meals together in perfect silence, offering gratitude for the enjoyment of our food, and in the times when we were allowed to speak, we quickly started to get to know one another.  I learned how she was a single mother of a young daughter and had come to meditation for self-care after a messy and difficult divorce following an abusive and destructive marriage.  She was Buddhist and instructed me and guided me on the ways of the Buddhist traditions and culture.  She humored me and answered every one of my questions as they related to the temples we were visiting, the appropriate ways to show gratitude and respect, and on and on.




 

On the last day of the retreat, we had the pleasure of speaking once again, as the silent component of the weekend had finished.  We learned about where each other lived, what had brought us to the weekend and what we hoped to do out in the world after we left.  We purchased small little gifts for one another from the souvenir shop on property.  I gave her a small ornament to hang on a tree or in her home that would remind her of the special retreat location, plus I’d also purchased a small little trinket for her young daughter that she’d told me so much about.  She gave me little blue, red, yellow, and gold prayer flags that I’ve kept to this day, and continue to adorn important shrines and spaces within my own home or out and about when I’m teaching in the world offering meditation and yoga to others.

 

I continue to think of her very fondly, and although we never stayed in touch after that brief weekend together, she will always be a special reminder of that meaningful retreat location, and the kindness that’s possible in another’s heart.  I learned a great lesson from her in our short three days together and I continue to learn from so many others since our paths have crossed.  It’s amazing to me how often my first perceptions and judgements of people (or anything for that matter) are so dreadfully wrong.  Unfortunately, to this day my judging mind continues to arrive before my loving heart, but I’m so thankful to have the practice and skills of mindfulness which allows me to see through that initial judgement haze so that I start to see more clearly to the true goodness of those I encounter. 




 

I’ve learned that if we take the time to be open, trusting, caring and respectful, we can allow in so many more perspectives, insights, and wisdom from those that we may consider different than us.  This continues to be a deep and meaningful practice for me.  I’m certainly not perfect and I continue to make mistakes.  But, for the most part, I’ve developed some incredible friendships, relationships, and connections because of my willingness to be open and humbled by the beauty I choose to see in other people.  I’ve discovered that when you really open yourself up and allow it all in, you can be deeply surprised by all the gifts others have to share with you.

 

I pray that we all may find the bravery and vulnerability to live in this place of openness and willingness versus judgment, criticism, and exclusion.  Not only for others but also for ourselves.  I pray that our tendency to create othering and division softens over the years to come and that more and more we start to remember our true interconnectedness, and how, as Ram Dass said, "We’re all just walking each other home".  I pray that we may we learn to step with softness, kindness, grace, and compassion for one another and ourselves on this journey ahead.

 

 

 

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