Spacious Solidarity Blog: Day 87

In an attempt to wind my way back to a sense of normalcy, today I try and simply write down what happened.

I woke up. Coffee was brought to me. What a privilege, to have a partner who loves me so much that they bring me a fresh cup of coffee every morning. Just the way I like it.

It’s Italian. Lavazza to be exact. We get the beans and grind them ourselves. I drink it with a splash of Oatly barista style oat milk.

What a privilege to have access to Italian coffee beans and oat milk. We live in a country where these products are relatively available. This access also depends on me and my partner earning enough that we don’t even have to consider whether we can afford it.

I get up and take a shower. What a privilege to have access to hot, clean, running water. I don’t even have to think about where it comes from or the energy and resources that go into getting it to me, clean and hot.

I put on my clothes. What a privilege to have warm, comfy clothes to wear while on lockdown during a global pandemic. What a privilege to have a washing machine and enough money to buy washing powder and pay for the water that washes my body and my clothes.

Before coronavirus I acquired three items that I felt I needed for different reasons. Firstly, I bought five different pairs of sweatpants and leggings. Why? Because at the end of last year, while recovering from my operation, I felt a need for more comfy clothing to wear around the house and on retreat.

Then I bought a Zoom Pro account. I had just received a grant to write a book and develop a course based on the book. Part of the plan was to offer the course online towards the end of this year. But for some reason I felt compelled to get the Pro account immediately.

Finally, as a Christmas gift from my parents, I got a projector for watching movies at home. I don’t know why I wanted one, but I did and I asked for it and they got it for me.

What a privilege to have parents who still get me Christmas presents, at 43.

These three things – comfy clothes, a Zoom Pro account and a projector to watch movies at home have come in remarkably handy during lockdown. In fact, I would argue they are all you need to make lockdown bearable while getting on with working from home.

All three of these things I procured and received without even thinking about it. What a privilege to imagine what I need and want and be able to go out and get it, no problem.

After showering I had breakfast. Porridge with all the fixings. What a privilege.

Then it’s time to teach. I’m halfway through another online retreat and today is all about love.

I want to encourage the group to see what it’s like to simply meet whatever is arising with love. Instead of thinking we have to work really hard to make love happen, what if we trusted that in meeting what’s here with curiosity and openness, love will also be there?

I want them to see how, when we relate to our experience from a place of non-violence, with no agenda and no need to understand, or control, or fix, or get rid of, then love is free to flow in the direction of whatever is here, no matter how difficult.

Not that understanding our experience isn’t also important and helpful. But in the space of meditation, when our intention is simply to be with things as they are, our need to know or understand can sometimes get in the way of experiencing things in their fullness, mysteriousness, ineffableness.

We begin. There is tenderness this morning as I read an article from an American Buddhist teacher about loving the darkness (https://www.lionsroar.com/darkness-is-asking-to-be-loved/). That the darkness in us and in the world simply wants to be loved. She is encouraging us to come down from our soft cushions and “fall down onto the earth.”

It’s beautiful and poignant and of now.

Then I lead a metta (loving-kindness) practice. All five stages. It’s the first time I’ve led a formal, structured practice all week. Up until now it’s been a lot of body scans and grounding and open awareness. Encouraging deep relaxation and simply familiarizing ourselves with what it’s like to be in a body. A living, breathing body.

Now we are connecting with our own heart wish for ourselves and all beings to be free from suffering. And getting curious about what is getting in the way of connecting with this heart wish. And trying to love what’s in the way.

During the break the doorbell rings. It’s the post lady and she’s as beautiful as ever. What a privilege to have someone deliver post to my door every day. She’s got yellow latex gloves on and she’s asking me if I am who I am and I say I think so.

It’s a box of freshly cooked onion bajjis. One of my friends on the retreat, on Zoom with me right now, has cooked us onion bajjis and sent them next day delivery in the post.

She often cooks for retreats I’m leading. She’s been joking about how weird it is to be on a retreat and not be cooking for it. And now she’s managed to cook on retreat and send what she’s made to my doorstep.

What a privilege.

After the session I make homemade raita and inhale three bajjis smothered in raita and mango chutney. Delicious. I send the cook before and after pictures.

Next I’m on the phone with a friend in New York City. There is construction outside her Harlem apartment. This is a new sound. Since the beginning of lockdown all she’s heard is birdsong. But she’s not complaining. The city is coming back to life.

We talk about how best to respond to people online when it comes to racism. We talk about preserving our energy for the work that’s needed. We talk about what it means to be a Buddhist teacher right now. What is being asked of us in this moment.

I eat a banana with a dollop of manjar.

In the late afternoon I have meditation reviews with people from the retreat. Ten minutes to share what they’re noticing in their practice. The range of experience is diverse and fascinating and I’m struck at how engaged and curious they are.

What a privilege to witness others in their process of waking up to their full potential.

At some point, I don’t remember when, I eat some crisps.

Then I’m on Zoom for the fourth time today with another friend from the retreat. She’s living and working at a retreat centre, also as a cook. We talk around healing the seeds of trauma which the cultures we are born into plant within us and the discomfort inherent in looking around and realising that whatever needs to happen next is up to you.

I’m too lazy to cook so I order a pizza. What a privilege to be able to go online and choose from an obscene plethora of options. Too many options. The pizza comes directly to my door, hot and delicious.

I write and then I take a bath. I sit in the discomfort of the edginess of what I’ve written. I’m swearing and I’m preachy and I don’t give a good God damn.

I go to bed with the courage of my convictions even though they scare me sometimes.