Return to Paradise – another month on retreat on Maui

January 30, 2025

I love being on retreat! I love the structure and focus of the schedule, and I love the way my mind feels when it gets calm and concentrated. I am filled with immense gratitude that I was able to get away for a month again in December and January to dive into the solitude and support of the Dharma Sanctuary in Kula. Of course, my experience was very different from the last time I was there two years ago. As an expression of the law of change and impermanence, the land was brown and crunchy after a long dry spell when I arrived a few days after Christmas. After one severe thunder-storm and many days with rain, everything was once again green, lush and blooming by the time I left at the end of January. This was true of my heart as well.

Another big change was Steve’s health. I had seen him occasionally online, smiling and waving to the faithful attendees of the Wednesday morning sitting group. It is still a miracle that he is alive almost 8 years after a glioblastoma diagnosis. In person, I learned that while still cancer free, he had suffered some collapsed vertebrae about a year ago, which left him stooped and twisted, walking slowly with a cane. He still came down to the hall for the group sittings twice a day but had more difficulty getting up and down from his sitting cushion. I watched my mind and heart want to help him, as I often do with Michael. I also watched and learned as Kamala let him fend for himself. When I met with him for the  twice-weekly teacher interviews, or “check-ins” as they called them, he seemed to have more cognitive difficulty with short term memory and superficial worldly chat. But when we talked about meditation and my practice, he was as clear and sharp as ever, always giving me an instruction that was exactly what I needed in that moment. Kamala, at 77, seemed as strong and healthy as ever, handling everything with apparent grace and ease.

After a short stop-over in LA and a great visit with my sister, I easily settled into a calm and focused state upon arriving at the sanctuary. I was staying in the Yurt this time, nestled farther back on the property, away from the dazzling views of the ocean and sparkling lights of the tourist towns. I had my own hot shower in a separate small bath house, and a lovely garden with a table, chairs and umbrella where I could have my meals. I feel like I am aware and mindful a lot of the time in my regular routine at home and at school, so I just kept going once in Paradise. Of course there were challenges. Body dukkha: constipation, as always on retreat – how many prunes are enough to get things moving without causing too much gas? Drink more water, but then pee more and clean out my composting toilet more frequently. Self-view: Steve’s curved spine made my own curved spine more prominent in my experience, and it took a while to find a comfortable sitting posture. Greed: ripe avocados from the orchard were available at every meal but without riding my bike 100 miles a week, I wasn’t burning enough calories to justify eating them three times a day. I finally gave up the delicious banana/avocado smoothies I was making every afternoon. Fear and worry: the crazy thunder and lightening storm one night provided a great venue for working with equanimity: is this yurt sturdy enough for this wind? If a tree falls on it would it collapse? What about a flash flood coming down the hill?  Should I get dressed, or just stay in bed? Am I overreacting? It actually was a really severe storm, and the retreat manager came by once it stopped, to check on everyone and make sure we were OK. I was impressed and grateful that the Yurt kept me dry and safe.

As usual on retreat, I started looking for something special to happen. I felt a lot of calm and equanimity most of the time. Isn’t that enough? Just keep going and enjoy it. When I really let go of thinking about the cool things that have happened on other retreats, or trying to have some insight, of course that’s when interesting things started to happen. I saw the distinction of seeing color, shape and movement, and perceiving “bird.” I felt the sensation on my skin, heard the sound of leaves moving, watched clouds rolling by and recognized the perception of wind. It seemed very clear and simple, just seeing, just feeling, just hearing, just thinking. At a meeting with Steve I said, “so if there is no meditator, and no observer, then where does the narrator or coach chatting away in my head come from?” He said, “they aren’t important, no need to engage with them. Just don’t pick that up.” A day or two later, as I was sitting in the hall and the coach was chatting away, I thought “if there is no meditator, then who doesn’t engage with the coach, who doesn’t pick that up?” Like stepping off a cliff, I was suddenly expanding in all directions to infinity and imploding into infinite smallness at the same time – whoaaaaa, cool. It was a bit scary at first, but then I settled into the sensation and it felt really amazing and lasted more than a few moments. When I described this to Kamala the next time I saw her, she smiled and said, “you are seeing things come apart. It’s good.” I have had similar experiences before, but not exactly like this. In a book by U Tejaniya that I found in the Yurt, he advises not to look for special experiences to happen, or catalogue special experiences you have had because there are always new things to see, and they will each be different than what you have seen before. I found that extremely helpful and encouraging. 

Shortly after that cool experience, I had an amazing close encounter with my favorite bird, the Japanese Bush Warbler. After desperately wanting to see this bird two years ago and learning, after I came home, that it was typically very shy and difficult to spot, I had accepted that I would not look for it but just enjoy its beautiful song. One morning as I was sitting under some scrubby trees overlooking the ocean, I heard the warbler singing not far from my chair. Then I heard it move to a closer tree, and finally it sounded as if it was right next to me. No, don’t look for it, the coach advised. But then after quite a while of just listening, I did open my eyes and I saw the bird, perched on the top branch of the tree just above my head. It threw its head back, opened its beak and sang its glorious song, then flew away – absolutely thrilling!  Wow. The next day as I was walking on my favorite morning track, I saw the warbler again, scuffling around in the brush under a tree, singing its squeaky wheel song. I did bring small binoculars with me this time and I very slowly retrieved them from my bag and watched and listened for a long while enjoying the gift of this special glimpse. Another day, I used the optics to look out at the boats on the ocean and I actually saw whales breeching. Incredible. Wow, when you get really quiet and calm and don’t expect anything, all kinds of amazing things present themselves. 

The day before I left, I was sitting in the hall and the narrator started chatting, “if everything is arising and passing away, where does it come from, and where does it go? Is there some sort of Amazon warehouse where they keep everything until it is needed and then it goes back there after it does its thing?” And then the answer came – “no, everything is here and not here at the same time, all the time. Form is emptiness, emptiness form, you know, as they say in the Prajna Paramilta.” Yes of course. But then when I got up from sitting to walk, the really interesting thing was that everything was just as it was – the sun warm on skin, the sky clear and blue and the ocean calm; the dappled sunlight through the trees looked like that and the warbler’s song sounded like that, but there was no sense of pleasant. There was no clinging at all and it actually felt a bit odd. These are perfect conditions, all my favorite things, but no pleasant, just this. I walked for a long time and then started to feel a bit of doubt. Where is the joy? Is this right? I sat on the grass for another hour and when I opened my eyes everything looked lovely and my heart filled with delight. OK this seems more normal. When I described this to Steve and Kamala the next day as we had our final meeting, they looked at each other and exchanged a knowing smile. Then they presented me with a Ti tree lei and we hugged warmly.

Since coming home from Maui, I have felt surrounded by a buffer zone of equanimity as terrible things happen in the world. I have felt calm and more patient and accepting of Michael’s physical and cognitive limitations. “This is the way it is” Kamal had said about Steve. I have felt a tremendous appreciation for our house, our jobs, our financial situation, and our loving companionship. I think back on that experience of things just as they were without the attachment of pleasant and let its clarity and power carry me along. I know the world will eventually seep in and cause liking and not liking, irritation and aversion, desire and attachment. But maybe it won’t be quite as strong.

FR: wind, rain, fog and the groundless ground

March 16, 2024

I am just back from a wonderful reunion with the sweet New England woods in central MA and two weeks on retreat at Forest Refuge. As usual, the early spring weather in March was wildly variable with cold, windy rain, fog and even a dusting of snow one morning, as well as a few days of warm sun, singing birds and budding flowers. The more muted environment was a welcome antidote to the overwhelm of Paradise in Hawaii last winter. Rebecca Bradshaw was teaching again as always in March. Her teaching partner was Devon Hase, one of the new generation of recently launched IMS teachers whom I didn’t know at all. I trust Rebecca and have tremendous respect for her guidance without any sticky attachment. In contrast, I could feel myself falling in love with Devon almost immediately. She was warm and heartful, while also brilliant and nerdy in her presentation of the suttas, translation of Pali terms, and discussion of different lineages and teaching styles across varied Buddhist schools. She was only a few years older than Emily, also an only child, also married to a zen student, also with a father 13 years older than her mother, a writer and an athlete, so many common threads. She had spent many long stretches on retreat, including time on Maui with Steve and Kamala, and was extremely skillful at helping me understand some of the strange experiences I have had on recent retreats. I knew it would be a mistake to try to look for that experience of nothing I had had last year. Devon agreed and encouraged me to notice what was absent and be playful with awareness.

As usual, in the early days of the retreat, I didn’t sleep well and had some vivid and crazy dreams. At my first meeting with Rebecca, I recounted a dream in which I was a passenger in several strange vehicles that were not proceeding easily along their paths. Then, I was chased by a group of tiger cubs who I think wanted to play with me. We decided that I was having some doubt about my practice and needed to relax and play more. Yes, that’s what Devon had said. Rebecca recommended dropping all labels and commentary. Don’t chase after objects, just rest in receptive awareness. When I met with Devon a few days later, I described a lot of calm stillness and quiet. I asked her about the difference between equanimity and dullness in my regular life. She said what I was describing didn’t sound like dullness to her, but a more quiet, easeful joy and appreciation of life – better than intense passion. I agreed. She said I could check to see that the enlightenment factors were balanced, and maybe bring in a bit more energy or investigation. Wow, I had been doing this for a number of years, but this was the first time a teacher had articulated it to me.

After that meeting I actually decided that I would be totally OK to spend the retreat resting in the calm, quiet equanimity I was feeling. What a relief not to be checking the enlightenment factors, or maintaining continuity of awareness, or on the lookout for some special experience. Devon gave an incredibly inspiring talk that night and I slept really well for the first time in a week. The next morning as I came into the hall early to sit and lead the metta chant, I could tell the sky was clear for the first time and we might actually have a sunrise. I rang the bell at 6:20 and as I got up to turn on the lights, I saw the sun just peaking through the trees in the east. The early morning crowd in the hall did a great job chanting and my heart felt happy and full as I walked back to my room before breakfast. As I opened the blinds, I saw a shaft of sunlight coming through the trees and falling on the frosty grass in the meadow. A voice in my head said, “oh, the groundless ground,” the phrase Devon had said at the end of her talk. I could clearly see the ground deconstruct and there was nowhere for the shaft of sun to land. Yet it was also completely there, just as it looked. Humm, form is emptiness, emptiness form. No big deal. I made my bed and did my yoga stretches. As I came into the dining room, there were shafts of sunlight falling everywhere and I saw the groundless ground again and again. My heart started to swell. The lady who always scuffed her slippers on the floor even walked by quietly and my heart soared. Ahhh, I saw it, this practice is amazing and really works, wowwwww. I have to tell Devon!!!

I was floating and flying and so joyful. It was a beautiful day and I enjoyed playing outside after lunch and taking a long walk in the woods on all my favorite trails. At some point, however, I started to notice that the joyful, flying feeling was actually starting to feel sticky and agitated. My thoughts were racing with plans for the future and inviting Devon to Princeton. Woa there, this is clinging and actually causing more suffering than that quiet calm I was feeling yesterday. Interesting. I had signed up for an extra interview for the next day. By the time I arrived, the revved-up state had started to wind down and I could describe the insight, and the high, and seeing the clinging. Devon said that was more important than seeing the groundless ground. One of the last fetters to release is the sense of self, the one who has the insight. So interesting to work with.

The next few days were pretty ordinary: some quiet, some thinking, some music, some hip aching, clouds, rain, fog. The next time I met with Rebecca I described the whole up and down and told her I felt like I wasn’t really doing anything. And you’re not supposed to hold onto special experiences or pleasant meditative states, but those things are good, right? She nodded and said meditative insight comes from not doing. You just put your body in the form and let the practice run the course and unfold on its own. OK, sure. A few days later, someone left me a note on the bulletin board. Her plans had changed and she was leaving Friday, the same day I was, and heading to Boston and could I give her a ride to Worcester. Yes, it’s good to have an opportunity to help, I could probably give you a ride to Worcester, but I really don’t want to think about this yet. More notes, maybe Springfield would be easier for you….so many words. OK, I will get out my phone and look at the directions to Worcester so I can give you a short definite answer. After all that commotion, I sat in the hall Wednesday afternoon and felt stirred up. When I get home, what will my practice be? What is my intention? What am I doing????? And the voice said: “there is no one; not doing anything at all.” Really??? and the sun came out from behind a cloud and filled the hall with a warm glowing light. 

The rest of the day and the next, I had periods of knowing that there was no one doing nothing at all and it didn’t feel unsettling or scary, just quiet and still, but ordinary, like a tree standing in the woods. There were also periods of me doing my practice, resting in the sound of silence and some peaceful stillness. I met with Devon again and she said that when I was home I could orient towards that stillness which is always available. I’ll try to not try to not do that…. I invited her to come to Princeton. We’ll see how that intention unfolds.

Retreat in Paradise: A Month on Maui

December 18, 2022 – January 15, 2023

I am writing this a number of months later, so the experiences have settled and softened. I have practiced with meditation teachers Steve Armstrong and Kamala Masters for almost 20 years and have always wanted to visit their retreat center on Maui. With all of Michael’s health issues, it has been challenging to find a time when I could be away for a month, but December/January looked like it would work so I made the reservation last June and hoped for the best. As the holidays approached, everyone was healthy, including Steve, who was doing miraculously well five years after a glioblastoma diagnosis. Michael, Emily and I planned a family vacation for 4 days before my retreat. We arrived on Maui in a terrible rain-storm that diverted planes and cancelled flights. Luckily, we landed safely and stayed in a beautiful condo near the beach in Kihei. We only had one good swimming day after the storm, but we did a lot of driving around the Island and visited our old Princeton friend Maida Pollock. She had retired to her son’s farm in Kula, which was, amazingly, right down the dirt road from the retreat center! Michael and Emily went on to spend Christmas on the Big Island at Volcano National Park, and I started a monthlong retreat in Paradise.

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Backroads Trip to Utah

June 7, 2022

Bryce Canyon and Zion National Parks have been on my bucket list for a while, and I finally got to see them on a wonderful Backroads bike trip. I still had a deposit with them from the Greece trip that I had to cancel the first summer of COVID. I have been hesitant about traveling in general, but I made the reservation back in January when I was safely nestled at home. Cases were down in NJ in the early spring, but started to pick up again as the warmer weather approached.  I did the best I could to stay healthy before the trip, and would hope for the best while traveling with 16 new friends on the trip itself.

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FR – Return to the Scene of the Crime

March 14, 2022

I just got home from 12 glorious days at Forest Refuge and feel much revived and restored. It was the first time back in almost exactly two years when I was one of the last yogis there before the beginning of the pandemic shut the world down. Rebecca Bradshaw was teaching again, and it was also her first time back since March of 2020. At my interview with her the day after I arrived, she said “so, we return to the scene of the crime!” Yikes. The preparation for being away on retreat is always quite involved, but this time was especially stressful due to the strict testing protocols necessary to even enter the IMS buildings let along stay for 12 days.

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2021 Recap – mostly biking

I have been remiss in adding blog posts for the second half of 2021. Maybe it is because the pandemic seemed to be ending, which was scary and stressful as we went back to more normal activities, but then it came roaring back and kept on going. Life continued with both a sameness that was discouraging as we just made the best of it all, and a new anxiety as we tried to integrate a return to regular life in the midst of an ongoing pandemic and a changed world. Maybe what I thought was equanimity was actually a dullness masking anxiety. Even so, Michael and I have a lot to be thankful for: we remained healthy and safe and I enjoyed a lot of lovely bike rides on my new bike. Here are some highlights:

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Retreat Get-a-way on Cape May

January 16, 2021

I took the plunge and reserved 9 days at a cottage I found on AirBnB a few blocks from the Delaware Bay beach in North Cape May. I wanted to go there alone and do a self-meditation retreat for a week. Michael would come down for a few days at the end. It sounded like it would work, but I spent most of December planning what food and cleaning supplies I would bring with me to make it feel safe in the midst of COVID. Finally, the day of departure arrived and I went to the market first thing and grabbed a weeks-worth of simple meals, loaded up the car, and drove the easy two and a quarter hour trip to Cape May. The host had told me that the house would be cleaned on Monday and then sit empty for three days before I arrived on Friday. That seemed pretty safe. Even so, I wiped down all door handles and light switches with Lysol and washed my hands before I unpacked and settled in. The cottage was adorable, with surf and sand decorations including crabs and octopi. The kitchen was perfectly functional and the sun coming in the windows filled my heart with warmth and joy. The neighborhood was very quiet and peaceful and the beach, really only two blocks away, was magnificent.

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Summer Staycation at Home During the Pandemic

September 10, 2020

My 60th birthday trip to Greece was definitely not happening this summer. Thank goodness we hadn’t paid any money for it before the world shut down. Instead, we stayed home, safely enclosed by our fence, and had a lovely summer. Louie was the happiest dog in the world as he ran free in the back yard with his humans constantly home. The wildlife was plentiful as well, including turtles, a groundhog, and a hawk’s nest at the very top of one of the huge pine trees near the house. The three babies were awe inspiring to watch as they grew and explored our back yard all through June and July.

Emily did a two-week quarantine, got a negative COVID test, and came to stay with us for three weeks in June, and then again for seven weeks in August and September. She brought her two kitties, Buster and Moon, and we all laughed a lot watching Louie adjust to his new roommates. Emily and I did zoom yoga classes on the deck, went on long bike rides, and cooked amazing meals together.

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FR: Coronavirus, Go Home!

March 17, 2020

Just as I was pulling out of my driveway for the five-hour trip to Barre, MA and ten days at Forest Refuge, the oil change light blinked on my dashboard. Oh, no… I remembered there was some warning light flashing as I drove to FR in January of 2015 just when my mom found out that she had leukemia and her doctor suggested hospice. That was certainly a strange time to be on retreat. This time I knew I could easily take care of the oil change when I came home, but I had a sinking feeling that the warning light did not bode well. 

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No now, now, and the Super Moon

March 25, 2019

 

It was spring break at Princeton and I had arranged to spend 10 days at Forest Refuge in Barre. Michael was back to teaching and conducting in the second semester. He had also been in sinus rhythm for several weeks after his third cardioversion, and was significantly happier than he had been all fall. He is still not back to full energy or physical mobility, and he still enjoys his afternoon naps. This may well be the new normal for him at almost 70 years old. He assured me he would be able to handle things at home with Louie while I was gone. Continue reading