“Go inside. The outside is seductive. Inside, you’ll find loving awareness.” – Ram Dass
I was quite struck by the short documentary featuring Ram Dass, Going Home. For me, it offers a simple, beautiful message,
After a long-career traveling the globe teaching meditation, Dass suffered a stroke in 1997. He initially lost speech and movement, elements of which never returned. He has declared, “I don’t wish you the stroke but I wish you the grace from the stroke.”
Granted, Dass’ idyllic Hawaii setting and support system probably make welcoming what arises less daunting than it would be for someone without such resources. I don’t think that takes away from his message of loving awareness, his primary meditation practice.
Suffering and difficulty are often isolating. But many, many people are going through the same thing. This perspective is a crucial component of self-compassion and equanimity. The poet David Whyte offers an invitation to being with our experience in his poem, Everything Is Waiting For You, which he reads below. He writes, “Put down the weight of your aloneness and ease into the conversation.”
Inspired by Dass, I’ve been practicing with the slogan, “Love Everything.” It is clearly an aspirational intention, not likely to be fully realized. But it certainly aids in discernment because if I find something I truly can not love, then I know it is something I should pay attention to (anyone thinking politics here?).
Starting with myself, I can love my meandering, ruminating, fretting mind. While it may not always serve me well, I know it is trying to protect me and keep me safe from danger. This practice has helped in difficult interactions recently. It allows me to be a bit more playful and curious, less judgemental. In fact, one of the things I’ve had the best results from is silently declaring “You’re my best friend!” or “I love you!” instead of disagreeing with the person in front of me. A mindful practice, it puts a space between the stimulus and the response so that I respond thoughtfully and not habitually. More than thoughtlessly “loving everything”, this practice acknowledges what is happening. It makes space for an experience that we can’t push away without it circling back and finding us.
Going home is about connecting with our internal experience. It is about the practice of RAIN – recognizing, acknowledging and investigating what arises and then offering nourishment for what it needs. We can make a home for it.