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Happy Hour: How Do We Want to Live and Love? (Knowing Life's Impermanence)

Introduction

Hello and welcome everyone to this edition of Happy Hour. It's interesting because I was sitting earlier and thinking about what to share for today's practice. Different thoughts came up, and I prepared a little dharmette on a different topic, which I'll present another day. Then something else happened. Just before I opened the room, I was sitting in meditation and became really, really aware of my own mortality—that time is very, very short.

As many of you know, mindfulness of mortality and befriending mortality is a topic that I practice and teach a lot. Guess what? When one practices this a lot, it shows up in moments on its own in very important ways.

With respect to metta^[1], the question that came up was: How do I want to show up? How do I want to be? The feeling was so strong just before you came on that I decided this is the topic that I'm called to present tonight. It feels like this is what's moving through. Often, my invocation or intention prayer is: Let the dharma move through me. Whatever needs to be presented in this moment, let that come through. It's not so much about me in the middle. So, this is the topic that wants to come through tonight.

It might be especially relevant, I realize, as we are entering yet a new phase of the coronavirus and the Delta variant, with various shutdowns around the world. It is challenging. It's not just with caseloads increasing and life feeling really precarious for us and our loved ones, but also having this contemplation of love in the time of Corona—giving a nod to the famous book by Gabriel García Márquez, Love in the Time of Cholera. How do we love? How do we love when, whether we are vaccinated or not, or whether we have some underlying health conditions, life seems precarious?

This is not about having fear, because life is always precarious. Anything can happen at any moment. But it feels more prominent right now. Another way this reflection can be quite supportive is that for many of us, life might feel like the movie Groundhog Day. We're at home again and again. Every day has the same shape or form. Maybe we have some Zoom meetings, we sit in the same chairs, eat the same food. It definitely feels like Groundhog Day for me, especially with the air quality having been particularly bad from the smoke and fires here, keeping us indoors.

And yet, within that sense of Groundhog Day, there is the stark realization: Gosh, this life is going to end. It is not infinite. It might feel the same, but anything can happen at any moment. It's going to shift, it's going to change, unbeknownst to us and without any planning.

One thing we do know is that we have limited time. We live as if we're going to live forever. We go through our Groundhog Day as if this show called our life is going to last forever. But it doesn't.

So, how do we want to show up for ourselves and for others in the midst of what's happening? With all the issues, all the relationships we're having in our lives, how do we show up with that stark realization that time is short, it's limited, and it's going to come to an end? How do we love? How do we let go?

With that as the introduction, let's begin our practice together, dear sangha^[2].

Guided Meditation

I invite you to settle, to rest. Arrive in your seat, in this body. In this mortal body, this mortal frame, which is alive for this limited period of time. Connect with each breath as if it were your last.

With ease, with the freshness of spring. In-breath bringing life. Out-breath, goodbye. Relax, soften.

If thoughts arise, it's okay. Be kind to your mind. It's used to thinking; that's what it likes to do. As if you've noticed a young child wandering off: Come, sweetie, it's okay. Come back. Come back to the breath, to the body. Let your mind settle. Rest. Take refuge in the freedom that impermanence provides.

Just connecting with this moment, this fleeting, evanescent moment in time. This in-breath, come and gone. This out-breath, come and gone. Not hanging on. Just this breath. Just this in-breath. Noticing aliveness at the in-breath. With the out-breath, leaning into relaxing, letting go. Embodied.

If this moment in time, right now, unbeknownst to you, were your last days, your last week, your last month... feel free to choose the timeframe that doesn't bring too much anxiety but brings a sense of the limitedness of time. Time is short. It's not guaranteed to run forever.

How would you want to show up? First of all, how would you want to show up for the people with whom you're close? If you knew this was your last month, how would you want to show up?

Choose one person, so as not to get overwhelmed. Choose one person in your life who is dear to you, an easy person. Let's start with the easy category. Someone where your relationship isn't complicated, where metta and kindness flow with ease. It could be a child, could be a pet. How would your kindness, your love, express itself? Your goodwill towards this being. Your well-wishing, knowing that time is short.

Can you allow your metta, your goodwill, your kindness to flow to this being from this place of generosity? No matter truly how much time you have left with each other, it is still short. Whether you have a month left or not right now, there will be a time when you only have a month left with each other, and you will only have known that in the rearview mirror.

So trying it on for size now, this practice, this experiment of cultivating goodwill. Feeling into your kindness for this important being in your life from the perspective of time being short.

You're welcome to bring in other beings who are near and dear to you if you wish, or just stay with this one. Spend some time with each one, not jumping too quickly from one to the next, which can unsettle the mind.

The two phrases that come up for me in this practice, from the perspective of time being unreliable and life's impermanence with respect to dear beings, are: Thank you. I love you.

Thank you. I love you.

See what comes up for you. It's an expression of metta from this perspective, or you can borrow mine.

Now, invite into your mind's eye someone with whom you have a bit of a complicated relationship. Just a little bit. Not the most complicated one yet, but just a tiny bit. If it feels okay, invite them into your mind's eye from this perspective that time is short. You have no idea how short it might be.

Notice what might come up in the way of things being let go of on their own. Metta rising, goodwill for both of your humanities, the way you've been entangled. If it gets complicated, it's okay, let it go. If the heart isn't ready for this, come back to an easy being. If not, then stay with the slightly challenging category.

Time is short. Time is always running out. We all must die. All of us earthlings. The Dhammapada^[3] says: We all must die. Those who realize this truth, quarrels end. For those who really emphasize and realize this truth of common humanity—that we all must die—all quarrels end.

Now I'd like to invite you to turn your gaze upon yourself. This being who is you. As if you were gazing upon a beloved other who has limited time. Realizing this truth, how does your relationship shift? How would you treat this being who is you? This earthling with limited time. How do you want to show up? How do you want to be?

The stories that we tell ourselves about ourselves... would some of them not be needed or get loosened? The ones that are not helpful, not productive, that hold us back from living our limited time according to our values. Do we get freed from entanglements of our heart that are not helpful? Time is limited. Do we really want to spend time with ill will? Do we really want to spend time with a lack of generosity of the heart?

How do we want to show up for ourselves and others? If you knew your time was limited, which it is, how would you want your heart to love, to shine upon yourself and others? Loving and living our days as if it were our last, because one day it will be.

And for the final fleeting moments of this practice period together, letting go of however this practice period was. No need for judgment. Just love and appreciate yourself. Thank you for showing up. Just the way you could, just the way you did, doing your best.

Thank you. I love you.

Reflections and Q&A

Thank you all for joining for this practice. I felt like I wanted to sit longer, but it had already been thirty minutes. Such a rich reflection practice to bring in mindfulness of our mortality together with the practice of metta, cultivating loving-kindness. A profound practice which I vow to bring to do more often here at Happy Hour. Yes, I see thumbs up for that.

We have time for reflections, for comments, for questions, for complaints, for whatever you'd like to share, dear sangha. The gems of your insights, your humanity, the gifts you offer to one another by sharing of yourselves. You're welcome to type your reflections in chat, you're welcome to raise your hand. We'd love to hear from you and bring your voices in.

One reflection coming in: "That was truly great, thank you." You are most welcome.

Christine says, "The reminder we are only here for a short time brought up panic and anxiety." That can happen as a part of mindfulness of mortality practice. The invitation I have for this is to titrate. Go into it a little bit, and then come back out into mindfulness of body, mindfulness of breath, to calm yourself. Then let it in a little bit more, because that way your capacity for it will get expanded. But that's a very good point, and one can work with it. We can absolutely bring it in and support it in this practice.

Aura says, "Thank you so much for this. I recognize that even when I don't know I'm striving, I'm striving." Beautiful.

Forrest says, "I missed the intro, but this practice helps me get out of a negative mind state. Metta is such a beautiful way to leave this world." Yes, absolutely.

Another reflection sent to me privately: "Thank you, that was very powerful. Tears came to me."

Nav says, "Sharing a Carl Sagan quote. It's a long one, I'll read it: 'The world is so exquisite, with so much love and moral depth, that there is no reason to deceive ourselves with petty stories for which there is little good evidence. Far better, it seems to me, in our vulnerability, is to look death in the eye and to be grateful every day for the brief but magnificent opportunity that life provides.'" Beautiful. Yes, exactly.

Eileen says, "Thank you for this. It helps not to feel alone with this awareness of mortality." Yes, we're not alone.

Another reflection: "My dear 80-year-old mother-in-law was present with me. Her cancer has metastasized, and she continues to live in joy and service. A great teacher." Oh, inspiring. Thank you for sharing that.

Another reflection: "Sadness came up. The thought was, if my life ended next month, I should probably be kinder and more generous to myself than I am being right now. How I'm living right now is not how I would like to treat myself if my time were very limited." Fantastic. That is wholesome sadness. That is wholesome sadness when you really recognize and connect with your true values and intentions, and you realize the little misalignment. When you realize there's a misalignment problem, which many of us have. I am so delighted to hear that this came up, because our time is always limited, and it's wonderful to remember to be kinder and more generous to ourselves.

Jerry says, "Focusing on the brevity of our lives and of the time as a species made me appreciate the gift of my life and of all." Yes.

"What do you mean by misalignment?" asks Marie Christine. The idea of what our values are and how we actually act and spend our time is called the misalignment problem. So what the person was reflecting was, "Oh, I want to be kinder, more generous to myself, but I realize I'm not." That is the misalignment. Or if you realize that you really want to serve the world, but let's say you're in a career that's not really serving at all. The misalignment is between the way you're spending your life and your values.

On YouTube, Patricia says, "A sense of urgency came up in waves for me. Very profound indeed. I found that mindfulness of the breath was very supportive. Thank you." The sense of urgency is very common with this practice of mindfulness of mortality. With respect to practice, it's called saṃvega^[4]. The idea of spiritual urgency comes up with this practice, which different ones of you are talking about in different ways.

One more reflection: "My daughter is my role model. She died five years ago while fighting her cancer. She lived her life more fully, became involved in a new spiritual tradition, and got married." Oh, that is so beautiful. Thank you for sharing the beautiful life of this beautiful being, your child.

Thank you all for sharing your goodness and beauty in this limited flash of time that we have. Like stars in the sky, we're crossing each other.

One last reflection before we go into groups: "Hearing your words at the beginning describing the Groundhog Day sense many of us are having, coupled with the current seeming immediacy of death, was initially confronting, but as I went into the practice, I found peace and love for myself and others. Over the weekend, I was very ill following the wallop of the second shingles vaccine. I had the experience of feeling super ill, not even wanting to speak with friends on the phone, yet at the same time knowing it was only my body building immunity. Being that sick took me to an unexpectedly happy place without much to be anxious about, as I often am when I'm physically well and thinking about the world, life, and my own little problems."

Yes, thank you, Deborah. It's a profound practice to practice when we are ill. It simplifies so many things. We let go because we don't have the usual energy to get tangled. In fact, some weeks or months ago, I did this practice: practicing as if you are ill.

So, dear ones, we have come to the time when we hold each other, these mortal beings that we are, and we meet each other in small groups to connect and support each other. Let us join each other in small groups, starting with fifteen seconds of metta or karuṇā^[5] (compassion) for ourselves, for each other, and then share as little or as much as you like about this practice. The rooms are created. I will open them now. Take care of yourselves, take care of each other.

[Small group breakout sessions occur]

Welcome back, everyone! The rooms are closed. Sorry, Jerry, I moved you around by mistake—you got to meet more people, that's the gift! We have just a minute left. Are there any reflections? If any of you would like to raise your hand or share anything briefly, the floor is open. So many rich reflections before we went into groups.

Fred, please.

Fred: "Well, all I was going to say was it's very touching to be with one another as we're contemplating, or we're at the edge of thinking about, our own deaths and the deaths of people we love. Even in the small group for very few moments, I can feel it bringing us close in this really lovely way. So, thank you."

Thank you, Fred. And thank you to every single one of you for showing up and practicing this way.

Jerry says, "The joy of being alive, with being able to be of service with bits of kindness." Indeed.

Let's bring this practice to a close. Thank you all for showing up, for practicing, for cultivating your heart in kindness and goodness.

May all beings be free.
May all beings be well, including ourselves.

Thanks everyone. Take good care of yourselves.