Gil Fronsdal once said to a group of rapt listeners, who had just spent some time in seated meditation, « Meditation might not be for you all the time. Sometimes it might be better for you to go for a run or do yoga. »
When people ask me how much I meditate each day, I tell them that my contemplative practice is less about that than it is about finding the appropriate response to the life I’m living, and maybe I need to prune trees or go for a walk or make cookies or find presence in the moment of really settling in to make a photograph or painting or poem. More often than not, practice is not solitary. And after I did my first street retreat, of five days in DC, I felt as if I’d « done » the same as if I had been in silent meditation for a month. 🩵
Just wanted to share that I have sent this to a couple of friends directly. I see people get stressed out about sitting meditation but you give such vivid reasons for all the ways that we can practice being present in our lives. Thanks for this! 🙏🏼🩵
This is extremely helpful, Maia. Considering the real daily texture of my life, while I love being in practice full time, realizing how dearly i hold this precious fleeting life of householding, partnership, the last tendrils of parenting... this post is helping me return to the vastness. Thank you. Deep bows
You’ve posted the Tree of Contemplative Practices before, but for some reason, it hits me differently today. (Well, it’s because I’m different than that person who first saw it, more receptive). Tricycle Magazine, in their “interview with a contemplative” section, used to always ask something like: “how long have you gone without practicing?” I thought that an odd question—initially provoking guilt in me if I missed a day of zazen. And then I began to think the question went much deeper; maybe some kind of test of the person’s understanding of the word/concept of practice (“test” is too strong a word, I don’t think Tricycle plays “gotcha” like that.) Now, and affirmed by your writing on this important aspect of humanness, were I to be asked that question, I’d say something like: “I’ve never stopped. I’m almost 60 years old and I now believe I’ve been practicing for almost 60 years…and maybe longer.” And with words like yours, Maia, I know that’s an authentic, if indeed valuable, way to integrate practice into a human life. I’m a new grandpa, and I see the little guru that my grandson is, he has a great practice going—when he drinks mother’s milk, there’s just drinking of mother’s milk; when he’s sleeping, there’s just sleeping; when he’s awake, he’s just in the present moment because he has no conception of past or future. Oh, and when he’s poopy, there’s just poop. (LOL!) I now aspire my practice to be like my grandson’s practice. Pure, joyful, effortless…just this. Only this. And now this too.
You writing makes me reconsider the way the word "practice" has been commonly used in the Western mind, particularly in the adage, "practice makes perfect."
On some level, I've always held the idea of "practice" as a means to an end--if I do something with enough focus and dedication, there will come a day when I am so accomplished it, I will no longer need to "practice"--I'll be a master. I just "do" it. Or worse, maybe I'll rest on my laurels and stop doing it altogether.Done that, been there. Checked off my list. A very Western, goal-oriented, transactional perspective.
Your writing questions this hubristic desire to practice as a means to achieve perfection. Yes, we should strive for excellence and a degree of mastery, but never to become "perfect." There's no growth in perfection. No life.
Maia, Since you first introduced the Tree of Contemplative Practices to me (almost 10 years ago!) I've been using it to teach people how accessible (albeit hard to value and prioritize) practices of connection and awareness can be. Just last night I was referring folx to it. So now I'll refer them to this post as well.
Thank you Maia - I found this very helpful and clarifying! For many years, from childhood into early adulthood, I played a lot of music. It was all very study-, performance- and exam- orientated and although I loved it, I also found it a bit of a chore. 'Have you done your violin practice?' were dreaded words usually associated with being stopped from what I really wanted to do. In adulthood, I moved away from it all, having started a music degree and decided it wasn't for me, and really relished the freedom of not having to practise. A couple of years afterwards, I discovered meditation and have spent the best part of ten years making repeated unsuccessful attempts at starting a regular meditation practice (one time I got to six months and thought I'd cracked it... but it still fizzled out!)
In recent years I've come back to music through singing. In the past few months I've been taking it more seriously, and more recently have started accompanying myself on the mandolin (which has the same finger patterns as the violin so it's not a huge leap). I've been doing this for myself, because it makes me feel relaxed and alive all at once, not because I'm trying to be 'good' or working towards an exam or performance, and unlike sitting meditation or the old, chore-style music practice, I find it is very easy to do it every day because it brings me so much pleasure. I don't have to plan in time for it, it just happens. Now I read your article I wonder if I have finally found my 'practice' - going back to my musical roots, but after all the meditation I've done subsequently, I'm able to give this more of a meditative framing than a goal-driven one. 'Practice' in this context feels like something entirely nourishing, with no hint of obligation or self-flagellation - a new concept for me!! It's also very focused on the present, worth doing for what I get out of it in the moment, rather than because I'm trying to invest in 'future me'.
Anyway, that turned into a bit of an essay, but the bottom line is that this was exactly what I needed to read at exactly the right time, so thank you!
I appreciate everything about this post, Maia. Your honesty and struggle with your sweet Lucy resonate deeply with me. (I've been there.) I also value your definition of practice and how it can differ for each of us. It's vibrant and dynamic; given our personalities and life circumstances, we can choose to adapt our practice. And the tree image you created! Thank you.
It is good to know that we can arrive to the same point through different practices. So far I was practicing stillness (meditation), creativity (photography, writing, conversations), movement (mindful walking), and relational (conversations), and I find direct benefits from all of them, resulting with a peace of mind.
This essay didn't really go into much depth on the nuances between practices, but in my experience there are definitely different ways in which they meet our psyche and nervous system, and unique gifts that come from each of them. At the same time, they do all have a way of helping us to connect to something larger than ourselves. And yes, peace of mind!
The word "practice" has changed my perception of life... that it can be also one big practice. This allows me to drop the show a bit and work to learn.
Thank you for this wonderful post. So relevant these days when we often feel pulled in many directions. It reminds me that doing one thing as a practice is prolly better than trying to do too many things half-arsed. Am also thinking about Lucy and the comfort she must feel with you as her human.
Thank you for your kind words about Lucy, that gives me comfort too : )
And yes, I do believe that it probably benefits are wholesomeness to go deeper into one or two things, rather than the spiritual shopping spree method (spoken from personal experience!).
I count myself extremely lucky that I found my practice early on. I started keeping journals and writing stories when I was in elementary school, 5th or 6th grade. I loved reading books before that, but by the time I was in 7th grade, I was writing poems and shorts stories. For a long time, I thought I could publish them, and I have written and published a bit, but as time has gone by, I've realized that they're a form of meditation for me, of making sense of the world and also of myself. Of calming me and reflecting. I probably have a couple of dozen notebooks, and they're my lifeline.
That's so wonderful to know the journal writing as your form of practice, Miguel. Yes, for me also the writing serves as a way to make sense of the world. Most of it is just for me, not for anyone else's eyes.
It may have been one of the best things I've ever done in my life : )
Remembering back now... that's also how I first learned about you, Taj! Working at Contemplative Mind in Society and getting to know Claudia H, who spoke with so much love and respect about you.
Maia, I was touched by how experience of practice while taking care of Lucy. I've had so many similar feelings in relation to my elder cat, but I always do my best to return to love and appreciation for her presence. My main practice is daily sitting and regular study. I try to be present as much as I can throughout the day. I like the way you present such a big variety of activities that we could use regularly to support our practice.
Our animal companions are such an immense source of unconditional love... in a way it provides an 'easy' doorway into practice, even if conditions may be hard. I am sure your dear cat feels your love and appreciation!
Gil Fronsdal once said to a group of rapt listeners, who had just spent some time in seated meditation, « Meditation might not be for you all the time. Sometimes it might be better for you to go for a run or do yoga. »
When people ask me how much I meditate each day, I tell them that my contemplative practice is less about that than it is about finding the appropriate response to the life I’m living, and maybe I need to prune trees or go for a walk or make cookies or find presence in the moment of really settling in to make a photograph or painting or poem. More often than not, practice is not solitary. And after I did my first street retreat, of five days in DC, I felt as if I’d « done » the same as if I had been in silent meditation for a month. 🩵
Just wanted to share that I have sent this to a couple of friends directly. I see people get stressed out about sitting meditation but you give such vivid reasons for all the ways that we can practice being present in our lives. Thanks for this! 🙏🏼🩵
That's so great to hear, Sarah! I'm glad this post can be of service. cheers!
This is extremely helpful, Maia. Considering the real daily texture of my life, while I love being in practice full time, realizing how dearly i hold this precious fleeting life of householding, partnership, the last tendrils of parenting... this post is helping me return to the vastness. Thank you. Deep bows
You’ve posted the Tree of Contemplative Practices before, but for some reason, it hits me differently today. (Well, it’s because I’m different than that person who first saw it, more receptive). Tricycle Magazine, in their “interview with a contemplative” section, used to always ask something like: “how long have you gone without practicing?” I thought that an odd question—initially provoking guilt in me if I missed a day of zazen. And then I began to think the question went much deeper; maybe some kind of test of the person’s understanding of the word/concept of practice (“test” is too strong a word, I don’t think Tricycle plays “gotcha” like that.) Now, and affirmed by your writing on this important aspect of humanness, were I to be asked that question, I’d say something like: “I’ve never stopped. I’m almost 60 years old and I now believe I’ve been practicing for almost 60 years…and maybe longer.” And with words like yours, Maia, I know that’s an authentic, if indeed valuable, way to integrate practice into a human life. I’m a new grandpa, and I see the little guru that my grandson is, he has a great practice going—when he drinks mother’s milk, there’s just drinking of mother’s milk; when he’s sleeping, there’s just sleeping; when he’s awake, he’s just in the present moment because he has no conception of past or future. Oh, and when he’s poopy, there’s just poop. (LOL!) I now aspire my practice to be like my grandson’s practice. Pure, joyful, effortless…just this. Only this. And now this too.
Thank you for this, Maia.
You writing makes me reconsider the way the word "practice" has been commonly used in the Western mind, particularly in the adage, "practice makes perfect."
On some level, I've always held the idea of "practice" as a means to an end--if I do something with enough focus and dedication, there will come a day when I am so accomplished it, I will no longer need to "practice"--I'll be a master. I just "do" it. Or worse, maybe I'll rest on my laurels and stop doing it altogether.Done that, been there. Checked off my list. A very Western, goal-oriented, transactional perspective.
Your writing questions this hubristic desire to practice as a means to achieve perfection. Yes, we should strive for excellence and a degree of mastery, but never to become "perfect." There's no growth in perfection. No life.
Maia, Since you first introduced the Tree of Contemplative Practices to me (almost 10 years ago!) I've been using it to teach people how accessible (albeit hard to value and prioritize) practices of connection and awareness can be. Just last night I was referring folx to it. So now I'll refer them to this post as well.
wonderful! thanks, Troy!
Thank you Maia - I found this very helpful and clarifying! For many years, from childhood into early adulthood, I played a lot of music. It was all very study-, performance- and exam- orientated and although I loved it, I also found it a bit of a chore. 'Have you done your violin practice?' were dreaded words usually associated with being stopped from what I really wanted to do. In adulthood, I moved away from it all, having started a music degree and decided it wasn't for me, and really relished the freedom of not having to practise. A couple of years afterwards, I discovered meditation and have spent the best part of ten years making repeated unsuccessful attempts at starting a regular meditation practice (one time I got to six months and thought I'd cracked it... but it still fizzled out!)
In recent years I've come back to music through singing. In the past few months I've been taking it more seriously, and more recently have started accompanying myself on the mandolin (which has the same finger patterns as the violin so it's not a huge leap). I've been doing this for myself, because it makes me feel relaxed and alive all at once, not because I'm trying to be 'good' or working towards an exam or performance, and unlike sitting meditation or the old, chore-style music practice, I find it is very easy to do it every day because it brings me so much pleasure. I don't have to plan in time for it, it just happens. Now I read your article I wonder if I have finally found my 'practice' - going back to my musical roots, but after all the meditation I've done subsequently, I'm able to give this more of a meditative framing than a goal-driven one. 'Practice' in this context feels like something entirely nourishing, with no hint of obligation or self-flagellation - a new concept for me!! It's also very focused on the present, worth doing for what I get out of it in the moment, rather than because I'm trying to invest in 'future me'.
Anyway, that turned into a bit of an essay, but the bottom line is that this was exactly what I needed to read at exactly the right time, so thank you!
I appreciate everything about this post, Maia. Your honesty and struggle with your sweet Lucy resonate deeply with me. (I've been there.) I also value your definition of practice and how it can differ for each of us. It's vibrant and dynamic; given our personalities and life circumstances, we can choose to adapt our practice. And the tree image you created! Thank you.
It is good to know that we can arrive to the same point through different practices. So far I was practicing stillness (meditation), creativity (photography, writing, conversations), movement (mindful walking), and relational (conversations), and I find direct benefits from all of them, resulting with a peace of mind.
That's a good spread you've got there, Davor!
This essay didn't really go into much depth on the nuances between practices, but in my experience there are definitely different ways in which they meet our psyche and nervous system, and unique gifts that come from each of them. At the same time, they do all have a way of helping us to connect to something larger than ourselves. And yes, peace of mind!
The word "practice" has changed my perception of life... that it can be also one big practice. This allows me to drop the show a bit and work to learn.
Yes! I love that way of seeing it, Corie.
Thank you for this wonderful post. So relevant these days when we often feel pulled in many directions. It reminds me that doing one thing as a practice is prolly better than trying to do too many things half-arsed. Am also thinking about Lucy and the comfort she must feel with you as her human.
Thank you for your kind words about Lucy, that gives me comfort too : )
And yes, I do believe that it probably benefits are wholesomeness to go deeper into one or two things, rather than the spiritual shopping spree method (spoken from personal experience!).
I count myself extremely lucky that I found my practice early on. I started keeping journals and writing stories when I was in elementary school, 5th or 6th grade. I loved reading books before that, but by the time I was in 7th grade, I was writing poems and shorts stories. For a long time, I thought I could publish them, and I have written and published a bit, but as time has gone by, I've realized that they're a form of meditation for me, of making sense of the world and also of myself. Of calming me and reflecting. I probably have a couple of dozen notebooks, and they're my lifeline.
That's so wonderful to know the journal writing as your form of practice, Miguel. Yes, for me also the writing serves as a way to make sense of the world. Most of it is just for me, not for anyone else's eyes.
I just learned today you were the source of this tree! I have loved it for so long. I should have known. Thank you friend for this offering.
It may have been one of the best things I've ever done in my life : )
Remembering back now... that's also how I first learned about you, Taj! Working at Contemplative Mind in Society and getting to know Claudia H, who spoke with so much love and respect about you.
Maia, I was touched by how experience of practice while taking care of Lucy. I've had so many similar feelings in relation to my elder cat, but I always do my best to return to love and appreciation for her presence. My main practice is daily sitting and regular study. I try to be present as much as I can throughout the day. I like the way you present such a big variety of activities that we could use regularly to support our practice.
Our animal companions are such an immense source of unconditional love... in a way it provides an 'easy' doorway into practice, even if conditions may be hard. I am sure your dear cat feels your love and appreciation!
Hi Maia, my practice is to be a caregiver to my husband who has Alzheimer’s disease.
Wonderful, Kathi. And I would imagine that's not easy at times. What do you notice yourself learning through this experience?