A political path to inner peace

This past weekend, I stood next to my best friend as she married her best friend. In the days of their celebration, life felt like love wrapped in light.  I found myself a student, wide-eyed and inspired by the teachers that stood before me--Kiwi and Stone, hand-in-hand exchanging vows.  Southern sunshine and a Georgia breeze carried a gentle refrain through the weekend: It is as it should be. When it came time to toast the happy couple, my words could not catch up with my feelings.  The kind that originate in the deepest wells of the spirit and spend years marinating in life experience.  The kind that have been with you for so long that any articulation feels like an insult to the true character of their meaning.  So here I sit, days later and hundreds of miles away, casually thumbing through Walden Pond for no good  reason but to check up on my friend Mr. Thoreau.  I should learn not to be surprised wh...

June 14, 2011 Today is my 28th birthday.  Twenty-eight feels big.  Legitimate.  Like everything up until now was just practice, and now it's time to get serious. I will not deny the anxiety that descends upon a woman of a certain age.  Like a light Nantucket fog, creeping in unnoticed and suddenly grounding planes due to lack of visibility.  That little voice growing louder.  Oh God.  Where did my youth go?  When did I become old enough to actually refer to my youth in the past tense? The traditional milestones, or lack thereof, don't bother me so much: unmarried, sans children.  I adore being the-bridesmaid-never-the-bride, and lord knows my nephews are more than enough to satisfy any maternal instinct that flares on occasion.  But it's the life markers I sought as the precocious youngster (a title I presumably held until June 13, 2011) that spur the prickly questions of doubt in my head.  Where's that advanced degr...

I'm back.  Delinquency admitted, path readjusted, eye on the ball/balance.  *** Several months ago, following the death of my iconic Grandfather, I received a phone call from one of his peers, an Episocopalian priest from New Orleans who has known three generations of my family.  He was to be in Washington the following Sunday, and would I like to join him at the National Cathedral (where he once served as Canon) for the early Eucharist?  I enthusiastically agreed.  [Before I go any further, perhaps I should clarify my church-going habits up until that phone call.  I was what you might call a "back-door member" of the Cathedral congregation, arriving within two minutes of the procession (sometimes later), sitting and standing, singing and praying, totally delighted to be in quiet company and communion with hundreds of Washingtonians who are, like me, called to live through love.  Then comes th...

I have been a delinquent contributor to my own life.  Thus, my absence on my blog.  I've let go, lost focus.  Fumbling on the thread of balance, I am a distracted version of the self I want to be.  *** There's this Standard.  It's something I've always held myself to, even when I was a little girl.  I was always quick to admit guilt or shortcoming, even before my parents or teachers had a chance to point it out.  I figured if I fessed up ahead of time, I would be a step ahead in the right direction.  That much closer to being better.  I have always wanted to be better.  Never good enough as I am.  And so I have lived my days, pursuing a standard set only by myself, expected only by my own imagination, and threatened only by my own demons. I do not feel sorry for myself with this Standard.  Our world is filled with them.  Those we seek; those we avoid.  Standards we contrive on our own (hello, adolescent Caroli...

Throughout our pilgrimage, we have heard about Guru Rinpoche, the most revered sage in Bhutanese society.  He is known as a second Buddha, and appears in every temple and home in the country.    On our second to last day, we climbed to Tiger's Nest, a monastery built into a cliff thousands of feet above Paro valley.  Guru Rinpoche meditated there in the 8th Century after  flying from Tibet on the back of Yeshe Tsogyal, whom he transformed into a flying tigress for the purpose of the trip.  Guru Rinpoche can do things like that.   On our last day in Bhutan, we met Guru Rinpoche's reincarnation.  The experience was beyond words.  At least not that I can find right now.  Atum gave us this Sufi practice in his honor: Deeply Rooted In the present moment Seeing with the clear open empty spacious mind Beyond doubt and fear Abiding in the luminous heart of equanimity The way unfolds before me Sitting in front of Guru Rinpoche's gard...

The group prepares for a major hike.  It will be an hour, straight up.  Our destination is Tango University for Buddhist Studies, one of two universities in the country. Atum asks us to walk in silence.  To reflect on the people who have led us to this point on our respective journeys. What have I not said to you?  I will say it now, on the side of this mountain, heart full of gratitude and gasping for breath. And then I will say this prayer for you. May the blessings of God rest upon you. May God's peace abide in you. May God's presence illuminate your soul. Now and forever more. Surrounded in utter silence except for the sound of my own breath, a bright whinny rings through the wet air.  On the cliff above, a beautiful horse stares directly at me.  I feel the energy flowing between us.  On this mountain, in this silence, if only for today, we are connected. We pilgrims arrive silently, one by one, at the gates of the Monastery.  Red...

Monday Back in Thimpu, we have a couple of luxurious hours off, so several of us go for a hike above town.  We start at a radio tower high above the village and soon are surrounded by hundreds if not thousands of prayer flags.  The air is magic.  Pure magic. The hike that follows is straight up.  We set off at a good clip, and I'm huffing 20 minutes in.  It feels amazing to back in the body after so much mind work. We arrive at an old stupa with moss and grass growing from all sides.  Then on to the monastery that sits on the peak of the mountain.  It is attended by a small group of monks.  We enter and climb stairs to a loft where a giant Buddha sits.  It was tiny and perfect.  Outside, two monks are conducting a ritual with subtle bells and drums. Endorphins run through my veins as I descend (ascend) into meditation.  It was sublime, and beloved. Monday Night--Atum Teaching Life is change, always changing.  Don't c...

Sunday: Punakha and Wangdue We visit the 3rd oldest dzong in the country.  It is ancient, not as well kept as the last two we visited, but every bit as holy. Overcoming a certain shyness, I approach Atum with a question that has followed me around the past 3 days.  How do I reconcile this place with my life?  I live in a political world, driven by ego and arrogance.  I don't want to be a person driven by ego.  But I love my work.  Where is the balance? Atum tells me the ego is important to maintain.  It is in fact a necessary tool in my line of work.  But I must ensure that it is in service of the greater good, as opposed to the "self."  We talk about the great political figures in history who have managed to "hold the center": Jesus, Mohammed, Gandhi, Jimmy Carter, even W.  He tells me I am in training as a spiritual warrior.  I smile.  I like that. I ask Atum about detachment in Buddhism.  Do I have to shirk...

Saturday Up early again, breakfast, and into the van for the three hour drive to the Pass.  Clouds and mist obstruct view of the Himalayas but create their own beauty.  Visit the dzong (temple) built by K4's eldest wife.  Very ornate, exquisite.  Murals tell the spiritual and royal history of the nation.  We learn the steps to a proper prostration.  First to the back of the temple, then to the Buddha. I clear my head, I clear my eyes, I clear my lips.  Forehead to the earth.  Three times each way.  In this, I open the chakra for the lessons of this place to flow in. Mom, Logs and I climb a hill next to the dzong and hang prayer flags for Tanner (born today!), Nate, Rafe, and all of our loved ones. Back on the road to Khuruthang.  Beautiful rice fields built into the sides of the mountains.  The town where we stop for lunch is just 8 or 9 years old.  It was moved here by the government to make room for the monks.  Hmm...

Friday morning Wake up at 5 and spend hours reading about the Buddha. After breakfast, leave for the Thimpu festival, the most beloved celebration of Buddhism in the country.  Everyone dressed up in Bhutan's version of Sunday's best. I am "harassed" by one of the festival clowns and his tool of shame--a phallus.  After a thoroughly embarrassing spectacle, he insists on getting my email address. And gives me his in return.  A new friend. Friday meeting with Atum (our teacher) When feeling anxious, relax into the present and trust the world. It is too easy to miss the experience of being here by trying to capture each moment.  We cannot grasp, because it is always changing. Notice which archetypal figures speak to me.  Each is a doorway to exploration. The quality of emptiness is this: where you have space, you have accommodation, and it is there that something of value can arise.  Think of the heart as having emptiness.  Like the empty bowl...

Four months have passed since my pilgrimage to Bhutan, and with each one, I slip further away from the inner source that I discovered in the company of Buddhist monks, my sangha, and hundreds of ancient Buddhas.  The silver threads of connection worn down by life in the real world; the center under seige by self-doubt and distraction.  I do not like this slipping. And so I return to my journal.  Or should I say, my journal returns to me.  I nearly forgot I had carried it with me those two weeks.  Thank goodness I did. *** September 16, 2010             Bhutan! Arise at 3:30am, feeling fully rested and excited. Board bus to airport, check-in at ticket-counter, realize I've left my iPhone at the hotel in downtown Bangkok.  Call hotel, recover phone (which they will keep until my return), eat breakfast, and board the plane--DrukAir, the only airline in the country.  Ascending into the sky, we fly under a rainbow. ...

This is a donor letter from the nonprofit, Partners in Health, which I began supporting as a senior in college.  After returning from a medical mission to Nicaragua and reading Tracy Kidder's  Mountains beyond Mountains , I turned away from my four year focus on international trade and instead wrote my Senior Thesis on public health in Latin America.  In my career since, I have been exposed to hundreds of nonprofits and other do-gooders, but Partners in Health is set apart from the rest.   This is just one example why: Dear Caroline, In nearly a decade with Partners In Health, I have been party to some wonderful achievements and countless small victories. But Monday, January 24th was my best day. On a stunning, remote mountaintop in northern Rwanda, scores of government leaders, PIH staff, friends and supporters, and community health workers looked on as Butaro Hospital opened its doors to the world. This 150-bed, world-c...

So much to say on this topic, but for now I'll leave it to the Sufi Master... The wise man should keep the balance between love and power; he should keep the love in his nature ever increasing and expanding, and at the same time strengthen the will so that the heart may not easily be broken.                          Bowl of Saki, January 21, by Hazrat Inayat Khan Commentary by Pir-o-Murshid Inayat Khan: Many seek protection from all hurting influences by building some wall around themselves. But the canopy over the earth is so high that a wall cannot be built high enough, and the only thing one can do is to live in the midst of all inharmonious influences, to strengthen his will power and to bear all things, yet keeping the fineness of character and a nobleness of manner together with an ever-living heart. To become cold with the coldness of the world is weakness, and to ...

I just emerged from two hours of shock, awe and shame.  I expect those last four words were an alternate subtitle to Charles Ferguson's documentary, " The Inside Job ," about the financial meltdown in 2008.  A painful look into the misguided yet entrenched banking system--fueled by instant gratification and short term incentives over long term failure.  Like I said, shock, awe and shame. I've never been one for what they call "high finance." In fact, I've spent the past six years learning about banking at the other end of the economic spectrum.  You know, for poor people...aka the unbanked...aka the world's majority.  We're talking loans of five or six hundred dollars.   Micro finance.  Add a half dozen zeros and extend that loan to a similar demographic in terms of education and relative income?  You're damn right I don't get it.  That's just insane. So when the public refrain during the meltdown echoed my novice suspicions, I si...

Last night, a group of friends and I "funked for the dream" at a local dance club.  'Clubbing,' if you will, is not an ordinary activity for me, but you could say I was moved by the spirit of Dr. Martin Luther King's extraordinary life, for which the party was thrown.  A small act in memoriam, but a fun one nonetheless. I don't know if MLK ever got "funky," but he certainly didn't mind shaking things up.  He grasped a truth that society wasn't ready to recognize.  Through the splintered, wooden slats of oppression, he saw the light of compassion. And time and time again, he summoned the strength to carry freedom forward.  Yesterday morning, I joined a dear family friend from New Orleans at the National Cathedral in Washington.  We attended the early Eucharist, sitting in the front row as witness to a beautiful memorial of Dr. King.  The sermon was a political message as much as it was a religious one.  "Act on what you wonder. God...

Last week in Tucson, Americans were called to renew our innate commitment to love and compassion.  The memorial service at the University of Arizona sent waves of civility, humility, and respect through a grieving nation, recovering not just from the horrific shooting but months of indignant, painful political discourse.  A society founded on the power of divergent views and compromise, we had lost our way.  But Tucson promises to bring us back.  The President of the United States of America reminded us of who we are--and what we are capable of.  As much as the messages resonated with me, I was most struck by the fact that it was the President who delivered them.  Such themes--love, morality, relationships--are usually the realm of clergy, or therapists for that matter.  But last week, they were handled with grace and force by our Commander in Chief.  As we discuss these issues, let each of us do so with a good dose of humility. Rather than ...

New Year's Eve, 2010 It is the last day of a long year, equal parts glory and disaster. An even draw between Good (great) and Bad (terrible). Truth is, I had a feeling from Day One--364 sunsets ago--that it would be a Good Year. Sure, Team Bad got a few hits in. In fact, they straight up schooled me on several occasions. But turns out I'm still an optimist. Even in hindsight. So here we are on this 365th day, just before sunset. Six wise women sit around a wooden table on a porch at a house in the middle of a marsh. The light is that special December grade of bright that makes everything sparkle. As if Mr. Clean has just whipped through this corner of God's creation and winked at us. There's so much goodness in the air, I suddenly get the feeling that if the marsh had arms, it would reach out and hug me. Wrapped in soft grasses, pluff mud, and maybe a couple of oysters for good measure. I wouldn't mind. I love you too, Marsh. After my mental pluf...

The whole idea of life is to live freely; to look through space freely, having nothing to hide or conceal; allowing the light of truth to shine from within and the light of the sun without; light all around, no shadow of any kind hindering the light which is the soul of every being.   Bowl of Saki, January 4, by Hazrat Inayat Khan