Passage Meditation: A Family Practice

This week we hear from Craig and Margaret, two meditators living in Golden, Colorado. Craig and Margaret share how their own practice of passage meditation has influenced and shaped their family.

A recent photo of Craig and Margaret (both on the right) on trip with their three children.

We began to meditate at the worst – and most opportune – time. We had just moved to a new city, with demanding jobs, two children under age 3 and a third on the way. Like many starting the 8-point program, we couldn’t imagine adding a 30-minute meditation to an already chaotic morning of hustling to feed and clothe toddlers before rushing off to work. But we also knew we needed help, and we longed to do more than just survive these family years. So we tried it. And we soon discovered that this daily half hour investment (along with some effort on the other seven points) paid big dividends: more calmness, more patience, and more kindness, especially to each other.

The Early Years

This is not to say that our meditation practice was flawless, or that our lives were suddenly problem-free. Our kids still tried our patience, throwing tantrums in the grocery store or doctor’s office and finding other ways to “push our buttons,” as Easwaran might say. And our jobs were still demanding, at times requiring us to work late nights or travel out of town. But all of this was somehow more manageable – especially with the mantram as a ready tool – and we began to realize that we had a choice whether to participate in what had seemed the inevitable rat race. Each morning, we refilled our tanks in meditation and then used the other seven points to do our best – even if that just meant using our mantram to avoid saying something we’d later regret – and ended most days with a few pages from one of Easwaran’s books. Sharing our successes and challenges in our local satsang (spiritual fellowship group), organizing a nearby family satsang with a few other families, and occasionally taking turns to attend retreats in Tomales, helped tremendously as well. (This spring we will be attending a weeklong retreat together for the first time.)

Today

Sixteen years later, we are still at it. Two of our children are now in college and the third is in high school. Along the way, the eight-point program has shaped us and our children. While we are definitely works in progress, our children have seen us strive, day in and day out, to stay calm and positive when things aren’t going as planned; to listen to and treat everyone with respect, regardless of whether they do the same; and to make decisions based on our shared values, which sometimes conflict with those of the broader culture. They also have seen us use the eight points to cope with the death of a grandparent and the failing health of another, to maintain equanimity with a challenging boss, to start a new job, and to manage a serious childhood health crisis. And they have seen us start every day, whether workday, weekend, or vacation, with 30 minutes of quiet peace. This peace seems to have created a safe haven from the challenging world that teenagers (and all of us) face today, allowing our children to explore the world with open-hearted optimism and faith in the inherent goodness in all.

Nurturing Deep Relationships

We also have no doubt that the eight-point program has played a big part in the positive, loving relationships we have with each of our children, as well as the fact that they still choose to spend time with us and with each other. In the early years, we made a concerted effort to do things with them. Living in Colorado, this often meant doing outdoor things together: hiking, camping, bicycling, skiing, and even outdoor concerts. We soon learned that everyone was happier if we let the kids set the agenda and the pace. A planned three-mile hike became a quarter-mile exploration of a stream. A day at the ski resort resulted in an hour on the slopes with the rest of the time spent reading a book together in the lodge. Trying to impose our (self) will on our children accomplished nothing other than tears and anger all around. What we didn’t realize at the time, however, is that, by putting them first, we were nurturing deep relationships. Gradually, our kids got stronger and hardier and eventually hiked, rode, and skied faster than we could. But, miraculously, they still wanted to do things with us – now at our slower pace. Today, we still frequently do these activities together, and they sometimes lead us to new pursuits, like rock climbing and country music, that we would have never tried without them.

Returning Home

When our children were young, we were fortunate to visit the Blue Mountain Center and stay at nearby Dillon Beach as a family. At our kids’ request, we finally returned this summer, with a few days at the beach and a family pilgrimage to the ashram. All of us were touched by the experience of returning to that special place. Our children seemed to sense the central role Easwaran’s program has had in our family and their own development and willingly did a short meditation in Shanti, the ashram’s meditation hall. We do not know whether any of our children will follow the eight-point program (though we certainly hope they do), but we do know that they have already benefited from it nearly as much as we have, in what truly has been a family practice.   

The entire Brown family with Christine Easwaran during a recent visit to BMCM headquarters.

Audio Excerpts from "Passage Meditation"

This week we're sharing more excerpts from the audiobook version of the new edition of Passage Meditation released last month.

This latest edition includes a new Q&A section with Easwaran's answers to commonly asked questions from his students and retreatants. The first of our excerpts features questions and answers on meditation.

We've also included excerpts from the chapter on Slowing Down, and the entire chapter on Spiritual Fellowship.

We're eager to hear your thoughts on the audio – please share in the comments below.

Slowing Down in a Busy Workplace

Meet Merritt, a passage meditator living in Avon Lake, Ohio. Merritt shares how her practice of the eight points, specifically slowing down, has helped her handful difficult conversations .

“Thanks, again, Laura, for letting me know. Although I am her principal, I honestly had no idea she had decided to retire. It certainly will be a big change for our school when we return in the fall.” I hung up the phone, ending the unexpected conversation with our school district’s Director of Human Resources. It was 4:15 pm on the last day of the school year, and I looked out the window to see bright sunshine and a nearly vacant parking lot.

Stepping out of my office, I was startled to see the retiring teacher standing at the reception desk with her laptop computer in hand. “I came to return this in person,” she explained. “May I come in?”

“Of course,” I agreed. “I’ve just heard the big news.” As I turned to re-enter my office, I had time for a few silent rounds of my mantram.

She handed over the computer and situated herself uncomfortably in the chair across my desk. “I’m going to talk to you like a Dutch uncle,” she began. I wasn’t familiar with the concept of a Dutch uncle, but I guessed that the honest feedback I had been requesting for several years was about to be forthcoming…

I guessed right. We spent about 45 minutes together in my office, more one-on-one time than we’d spent together all year. She had collected her thoughts to present me with several knife-edged points of advice about how I could be better at my job, without any compliments or affirmations to coat the pill.

***

When it was over, she left the room (no hug, no handshake, not even a little wave goodbye), I sat down and gazed at the small photo of Easwaran tucked at the corner of my desk where only I can see him. I opened my heart and alternately whispered “thank you,” and “Om namah Shivaya” (I bow to the Lord within) for a minute or two, with tears welling up in my eyes. I noticed the notebook of passages I keep in my office for afternoon meditation, and felt humbled by the gift of detachment I had experienced during the conversation, as well as the surge of joy that was following--in spite of the content of the conversation--that was undoubtedly the fruit of my meditation practice.

 Of all the things she said, the one that really hit home was that the teachers in our school (including her, up to this point) are not going to say things to me if they anticipate I will disagree. She explained that they might subtly share a suggestion, but would not challenge my way of approaching an issue. As a leader who deliberately attempts to be collaborative, this was quite disappointing to hear. It also sparked my thinking that I must find a way to really hear what teachers are saying; to sense the strength of their feeling even if they don’t convey it in an obvious way.

While all of the eight points work harmoniously together to support us in any situation, this felt like a job for Point #3: Slowing Down. If I can slow down my pace of work, slow down my mind while listening to teachers, and slow down my eyes and ears while observing situations, I just might have a shot at better understanding the teachers, subsequently opening the honest dialogue I believe is essential for a healthy school.

***

Slowing down is an elusive point for me. I’ve been rewarded on the surface of life for being able to do things quickly and accomplishing many things, both large and small. Perhaps this can be partially attributed to the Army recruiting TV ad from my childhood, “We do more before 9 am than most people do all day...Be all that you can be…” Or maybe it is related to being the oldest child in a single parent household, or maybe it is simply my karma. Probably some combination of all those things, right? I’m relieved Easwaran deemphasizes finding the “why” to questions like these, focusing, instead, on the work of making our lives a work of art.

Saint Bernard of Clairvaux vividly described the deeply ingrained compulsion to achieve with a few lines from That Wondrous Star: “When the waves of pride or ambition batter your soul, of slander or jealousy, anger or lust...” The episode with the retiring teacher was a tsunami on my ego, the part of my being that had been rewarded for achievement. I can’t imagine a better prompt for reflection and planful action.

***

Even before this interaction, bolstered by years of spiritual practice (including the invaluable influence of satsang with other meditators and reading Easwaran and other mystics), I had already been experimenting with a few strategies for slowing down, for example:

• Driving slower, limiting myself to 5 miles over the posted speed limit -- no matter what the circumstance.
• Consciously not pursuing new opportunities in order to have more free time to “allow good things to come in” (as a fellow Cleveland satsang member suggested).
• Reducing the number of trips to the grocery store, facing down my irrational fear of running out of certain items I like (such as Greek yogurt -- mmmm!).
• Bypassing self-checkout lanes and not scheming for the fastest line at the store, choosing instead to have a brief interaction with whichever clerk I end up with.
• Trying not to interrupt others, and pausing to let others speak first, even if it means shutting my mouth mid-comment and gesturing for the other person to “go on.”
• Accepting gracefully a moderate (trampoline-induced) knee injury, respecting my (apparently temporary) reduced physical capacity.

The goal of all this is, of course, to reduce my ego to zero so that I may be a better servant of the Lord, living calmly, patiently, and joyfully, (not only as a school principal, but also in other areas of my life). Emphasizing this as my goal (rather than prior goals of gaining power/prestige at work, being physically fit for the sake of appearance, or earning accolades for scholarly pursuits), is helping me to slow down by taking on less. I am learning to pass up activities that are not directly aligned with my goal. I have full faith that any effort I make toward discrimination in my choices (that is, how much to do and at what speed I do it) is progress on this path.

I am encouraged by early results of experiments in slowing down, with less agitation in situations that used to get under my skin, increased energy for relationships, work and recreation, and an optimistic feeling that the little victories are bellwethers for future freedom from deep-seated conditioning. It feels good to have a “spiritual-level plan” for appreciating the teachers’ perspectives, even as I continue to build those relationships using mainstream leadership strategies. I also have begun to write my mantram for the teachers in my school, specifically to help me gain new vigilance with listening to them and perceiving their true thoughts and feelings.

***

According to Wikipedia, a Dutch uncle is an informal term for a person who issues frank, harsh, or severe comments and criticism to educate, encourage, or admonish someone. The retiring teacher’s use of the term was perfectly accurate. I’m not sure how Dutch nieces and nephews usually feel when this happens, but I am grateful that (at least from my point of view) I was able to listen actively, did not feel the need to defend myself, and still felt like I had something to offer in the field of education when it was over. I attribute this to passage meditation, the allied disciplines and Sri Easwaran’s grace. The concept of Slowing Down earns a special gold star in this particular challenge, because it is the strategy that allowed me to see the space between my thoughts, enabling me to remain secure, disconnecting my real self from the comments offered by the outgoing veteran educator.

Fortified by the constant gentle, insightful, considerate guidance of Sri Easwaran, passage meditators are well-prepared to withstand occasional interactions with the “Dutch uncles” of the world. The equanimity I felt in the moments with the retiring teacher has given me even more determination to work on slowing down, for the greater good of all.