Clipping my Nails Gatha

Gathas are short practice poems that we can use to bring mindfulness into daily activity. I wrote this for clipping my nails, but really, this could be used for any form of body care. Including trimming my nose hairs and ear hairs, two new activities I find myself having to undertake in middle age.

Clipping my nails,
I am aware that this body
is always changing
Impermanence is the way of the world

My Waking Up Gatha

For many years, I recited several poems immediately upon waking:

  1. Thich Nhat Hanh’s “Waking Up” gatha
  2. The Dalai Lama’s “Today I am fortunate to be alive, I have a precious human life…”
  3. Haim Ginott’s “It’s my personal approach that creates the climate, it’s my daily mood that makes the weather…”

I tried to combine the essence of these three into a single practice poem.

Gatha

Waking up this morning,
I smile.
I am alive,
I have a precious human life,
and I am not going to waste it.

I will use my energies
to heal myself,
deepen my connection with others,
and build a beautiful continuation.

I will offer peace to others.
I will not lash out or attack others.
I will benefit other life as much as I can.

Flossing my Teeth Gatha

Flossing is a difficult habit for me. My parents didn’t model good tooth care (my father died with no teeth), and it’s always been a slog for me. Which is why I have developed several different practice poems!

Flossing My Teeth I

This is the first one I came up with and taught to my young children.

Flossing my teeth 
and strengthening my gums
I improve my overall health
I know that even the smallest detail matters

Flossing My Teeth II

Between each tooth,
space for patience.
By caring for this body,
I care for the Earth.

I deeply want to care for the Earth, and my body is not separate from the Earth, and so it deserves my patient care too.

Gatha Practice

Gathas are short practice poems. They can help us bring mindfulness, concentration, and insight to daily activities.

Practicing with Gathas

The basic form of practice is to: pause before you undertake some action, come back to your breathing, recite the gatha in your mind or out loud, and then initiate the action with mindfulness. Another method is to keep the gatha flowing through your mind while you perform the action, tying one line to an in breath and the next to an out breath.

I find that gathas, especially when practiced regularly, can wake you up to things you take for granted, expose habit energy, and steadily retrain your inner voice. I also find that my days are more beautiful when filled with poetic reminders of the practice and the wonders of life.

My Gathas

Writing your own gathas is a longstanding Zen tradition. I take great inspiration from my teacher in this, using gatha-crafting as a way to personalize and deepen my practice. Writing gathas makes the practices meaningful to me, and it helps me to reclaim areas of my life that I am less present to (for me, flossing is a great example of a rich area of practice.)

Here are some of mine:

References

Articles about gatha practice:

Sources of gathas from Thich Nhat Hanh:

  • Present Moment, Wonderful Moment
    • A gatha-focused book, containing 49 gathas and Thay’s commentary
  • The Energy of Prayer – How to Deepen Your Spiritual Practice: See Appendix 2, “Buddhist Prayers and Gathas,” pp.145-155.
  • Stepping into Freedom – An Introduction to Buddhist Monastic Training: This book is not just for monastics but is for everyone. It begins in Part One with 68 gathas.

Other sources of gathas:

I prefer group work to one-on-one talk therapy

I have had many people describe how much they’ve gotten out of their one-on-one talk therapy sessions and encourage me to go to talk therapy. I have read many complaints (often from women) about how they can get their partners to go to couples counseling, but there’s a wall when it comes to one-on-one talk therapy, and they feel stuck.

So, I just want to flat out say it: I have been to one-on-one talk therapy, I don’t find much help in it. That’s ok for me, I hope it can be ok for you, too. There are other healing modalities to explore!

One-on-one therapy can certainly work well when you have found someone you have a good rapport with. I have tried several therapists, and I did not feel a rapport or really feel like their feedback spoke to me and my challenges at all. So, finding a therapist becomes a monumental task – searching for providers, figuring out insurance, scheduling initial consultations, repeating the same parts of the story over and over again, and perhaps even finding that it wasn’t much help in the end. Maybe your therapist has done a lot of work with their own suffering, maybe they haven’t. Maybe they specialize in your type of struggle, maybe they don’t. Maybe they can speak to you in ways that are impactful, and maybe they just annoy you. There is so much friction. I am very understanding of everyone who resists it, as much as I understand it has helped many people. It is not a universal solution, but one that relies on luck.

I went to therapy after my father tried to commit suicide. I didn’t feel like I got much understanding or tooling out of the process. Several people thought I should try to “get over it” in various ways, and there were many encouragements that I should focus on my studies and my work. Overall, that was a pretty big let down to me in a really difficult time in my life. Repeating the friction-involved process over the years has not encouraged me further.

But I don’t think that means we have an excuse to avoid help. Because there are alternatives – like group work. I have participated in several support and sharing groups. I’ve also offered peer-led support groups. It’s a format I love and have gained so much from, even though it gets much less attention than one-on-one talk therapy (at least in conversations I have).

In group work, I don’t have to find the right person to talk to or develop a rapport with anyone. I am exposed to others, some who I will resonate with and some who I don’t. The group isn’t there to offer advice, but rather to share their own experiences and to listen to others. And there is a great power in that. I find a lot of acceptance, simply by being listened to by others without interruption. I find that I’m not alone, that the struggle I thought was so lonely is shared by others. I am often surprised at how an individual I thought was so put together has many struggles on the inside. I gain insight into my own struggles and patterns by listening to the struggles of others. I can see what it looks like to be further ahead on the path of healing and transformation – and that it is still a path that has its ups and downs. I can appreciate how far I have come, and cultivate compassion for those who are just starting.

In group work, we practice showing up. We practice sitting and listening, without judgment or attempts to fix. We practice speaking about our own experiences only, not speaking for groups or for other people. We practice sharing honestly of our own experience, encouraged by the vulnerability of others. This is all valuable medicine, and I think medicine that is best administered in a group. Sure, you get less time to ventilate your problems than in an hour of talk therapy, but you gain so much more in terms of perspective and acceptance and a shared struggle.

And that’s the right format for me.

Mindfulness in a Rush

Someone asked a wonderful question in a closed community, and it turned out to generate a lot of reflection and thought on my own practice. I wanted to capture that and share my answer more openly.

Question
How does one practice mindfulness in everyday life when, inevitably, we must perform tasks quickly? Examples include getting ready to leave the house quickly because you are running late, a recipe that requires a quick succession of focused steps, or simply playing a game that’s like a race. How do we stay with a mindfulness practice when we are hurried?

Speaking as an engineering consultant, a farmer, and a father: I acknowledge that there are so many tasks that must be done with some degree of speed or urgency. We operate on deadlines. We have limited windows in which to accomplish things.

Mindfulness, to me, involves recognizing the appropriate response to the nature of the moment and acting accordingly. “This is a moment that requires urgency.” So I must operate with a sense of speed. But it does not have to be hurried. I can still operate mindfully, with full presence and awareness, while working quickly. I can participate without getting overwhelmed or getting lost in feelings of anxiety and worry.

I often think about a story I heard told by one Thich Nhat Hanh’s monastics – I don’t have a source, unfortunately, but a vague feeling it may have been Br. Phap Huu in an episode of “The Way Out is In” podcast. When traveling, Thay liked to practice mindful walking through the airport. They had done this and arrived at their gate, where they waited to board the flight. Just before time to board, an announcement came on, and their gate had moved to another across the airport. The monastic telling the story recalls that they looked at each other with concern – how would they make it to the gate in time given the slow pace of walking? Thay looked at them and said, “Run!”

In these moments, I can apply mindfulness to the body from time to time. Even in the most urgent of paces, I can afford to pause, to take a break, even if only for 10 seconds, even if only for one breath. I can notice if I have let emotions take control. I can notice if I need a break. I can pause, reconnect, and engage with the wonders around me. This is necessary to avoid getting caught up in the energy of rushing.

I also practice by identifying transition moments: when I am not required to move with speed any longer. Because it is so easy to let that energy carry over into moments that do not require any haste, or to channel it into an interaction with another person.

In my own life, a consistent moment of practice here is the transition from “cooking and plating dinner” to “enjoying dinner.” Often, cooking dinner is a focused, fast-paced event: I’m often making 2-3 dishes, cleaning up after myself as I work, prepping the table, plating food. I like to finish eating dinner with most of the cleanup already done so I get to play time right away. I like to serve and eat hot food. It’s focused, it’s fast, I enjoy it. But it’s easy to let that feeling carry on into dinner. The transition from “chef mode” to “dinner mode” occurs in the moment between when my plate touches the table and I sit down. If I am swept up by a feeling of rushing, it’s easy to scarf down the food before I realize what’s happened, then feeling the horror of realizing I didn’t even taste the food I worked so hard for! Instead, I know that is a moment of mindful practice: to recognize the change of pace, to return to the body with a few breaths. And that’s often enough to shift everything. If I feel the energy has not dissipated, I quietly recite the contemplations or an expression of gratitude, and mindfully eat the first bite.

The practice of mindfulness may also result in recognizing the moments where there is a tendency to rush. Once there is awareness, there is an opportunity to change the conditions and allow ourselves to move slower. Perhaps there’s recognition that some things need to be let go to make more space.

It is also useful to apply mindfulness to the impulse to rush itself. Do we actually need to rush? Are there real benefits in this moment? If I get swept up in a rush to leave the house quickly because I’m late, how much time am I actually saving compared to a normal, or even relaxed-yet-focused, pace? I might find the difference is only a few minutes. But if I get into an accident because the energy of rushing and the anxiety over being late carried into the drive, I have only become more late. If I recovered a few minutes of lateness, but arrived overwhelmed and hurried and anxious, is that a good trade? Or have we only made the situation more challenging?

“Hello, my impulse to rush, to move quickly. Hello, my pressure to get something done by an arbitrary deadline. I know that you are in there. I see you. But I ask, where did you come from? Are you sure we need to rush? Or are you simply the habit energy of my grandmother, raising eight children, trying to get everything done and keep everything in perfect order?”

It helps to look into this and know. Sometimes, I see that I’m simply rushing out of habit or childhood training. Often, I can calm my body with the recognition that this is not an emergency. I do not need to move as quickly or urgently as my body feels the need to.

I find the practice of having periodic or random bells sounding throughout the day, used as a prompt to stop and return to the body, is very helpful for transforming this energy. This practice has revealed many times when I have become swept up by an energy or feeling and not been aware of it. I might even feel the impulse not to stop, to avoid it, because I have to keep going. The bell offers an opportunity recognize and reset.