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Happy Hour: Insomnia, Pain, and Metta

Okay, so formally, hello and welcome to Happy Hour. Lovely to see you, to be with you, dear fellow practitioners.

The theme for today is inspired by a conversation I had with a practitioner about how they wake up sometimes in the middle of the night with insomnia and pain. This is part of the human condition. Feel into your own experience and remember the times that you have woken up in the middle of the night with insomnia or with pain. We all have that experience of waking up with pain, with insomnia, or if not in the middle of the night, we have a human body. All of us experience pain at some point; it's a part of being human. It's a mark of existence. Having a body that experiences illness, pain, and aging is a mark of existence.

Knowing that these are parts of being human, it's not a mistake. It's not that you have done something wrong and you're being punished, or you're bad. It's just part of life. These things happen. Insomnia happens, illness happens because we are human beings. Things arise due to causes and conditions. So many of them are out of our control. Some are within our control, but so many of them are out of our control. So how can we work compassionately and with metta^[1] with these causes and conditions?

Keep this teaching in your back pocket the next time you wake up in the middle of the night, perhaps with pain or with insomnia.

The first invitation is how we approach the perspective we take with what is arising. Do we self-flagellate? Do we apply what's called second arrows in the Buddha's teachings?^[2] The first arrow is the pain, the suffering, this insomnia that has arisen because of all the causes and conditions. Do we then hit and injure ourselves with second arrows of, "Oh, why me? Why is this happening to me? What's wrong with me? It's my fault. I'm terrible, me bad, bad, bad"? Ouch, ouch, you're already hurting, and we often take daggers and start injuring ourselves even more. Or, "This is terrible, this is awful, make it go away," as if by the force of will we can make it go away.

And guess what? Especially sleeping in pain, the more our bodies and our minds tighten around it with aversion, with wanting to push it away, guess what happens? The opposite, right? They get worse. They get more wound up, both with the pain and with being awake.

So the invitation is to recognize if there are second arrows, and if there are, please don't take on third arrows like, "Oh, I'm a terrible practitioner. I'm self-flagellating. I've been meditating for a while and I am still hard on myself." Please don't take third, fourth, and fifth arrows. Just have some humor and kindness. It's okay. It's part of the human condition. It's okay, this happens.

Instead, what if we turned it around? What if in the middle of the night when you're awake, you thought, "Okay, great, here is an opportunity for practice. I could be sleeping, but no, actually I can practice in this moment. I can calm and settle my mind and heart and deepen." Often, pain, suffering, and sorrow are the doorways to awakening. They are not problems to get rid of, to push away so that now you can practice. Thinking, "Oh, this physical pain is bugging me. If I could only be comfortable so that I could meditate," is such a funny perspective, right? The pain, the suffering, this insomnia is the doorway, is the invitation: "Hello, dear human being who is suffering, this is what suffering is like. Ah, welcome to acknowledging, to opening to the human condition for yourself and all other beings."

You can be sure there are other beings in that moment in time in the world who are also either having insomnia or having pain. Thousands of us, given that there are almost eight billion of us now. There would be hundreds, if not thousands, of human beings in that moment who are having the same condition as you are having.

I'll say more in the guided meditation, but essentially we want to open up to the pain, to the suffering, to the insomnia, and hold it with kindness. Sometimes you don't have a choice; it's already here. There's not much you can do about it. You can't push it away, and by trying to push it away, it actually makes things worse. When you stop resisting, something releases, something lets go.

That's number one. Number two is metta, really a lot of metta, a lot of self-compassion. Meditation is not all about hanging out in blissful states, but it turns out that actually working with pain, sorrow, and insomnia can lead to bliss states. It seems counterintuitive: how can holding and being with challenge lead to bliss, lead to ease? But that's exactly what happens.

I invite you to open up. Open up the way that your mind habitually treats pain, like, "Make it go away, I don't like it, it's terrible, I just want pleasure, I just want ease." Open up to the ways that you can grow in your humanity. The ways in which your wisdom and compassion can open up and flourish for yourself and for others through this pathway.

There is so much opportunity in this. I've already spoken plenty, and I'd like to invite us to switch to practice.

Guided Meditation

I invite you to arrive in your seat in this moment. Arriving.

Connecting with the breath. Arriving in this moment.

Arriving with the breath, with the body, whatever is arising in the body. Letting go of thoughts, of plans, whatever has come before—not needed. Taking a moment of refuge.

Connecting subtly. Let it go. Just connecting with the breath in the body gently, ever so gently. Making space.

Letting the breath be nourishing, healing, cleansing as it moves through. Arriving more fully with each breath.

Imagining that in this moment you've woken up in the middle of the night with insomnia, and maybe some discomfort. Not pushing it away with aversion, hating it. Can you turn towards it? Open your heart, turn towards it. Let your body relax, open up, embrace this moment of being awake, being aware. Feeling the body and being breathed. Fully embracing it. It is like this right now.

Can I open my heart as if I'm opening my arms wide? Wide, the way you would open your arms wide to embrace the sunset, a very beautiful sky, the clouds, or the ocean. This moment is like this. This moment of being alive, being awake is like this.

What gifts of wisdom and compassion does this moment have for me? Shifting our attitude to open up to this, first and foremost.

Lending awareness ever so gently. Be aware of the body, breathing on the body's nooks and crannies. Maybe there's some discomfort. As if you're holding a holy little child, a baby that was hurting. In your mind's eye, holding all the parts of the body that might not be comfortable, not pushing them away, but letting awareness hold them gently, lovingly.

Can there be patience? Can there be gentleness as the mind connects with the discomfort in the body, as soothing as singing a lullaby to any part of the body that's not comfortable, that's in pain? Gentle, gentle care, as if you're rocking this little baby that is your body.

Goodwill, love, care for this body that is mine and also not mine completely. It's nature. This body doing the best it can with all the causes and conditions of this life. Thank you, body. I care for you. I hold you with ease, with care, tenderness.

And now, if you wish, inviting yourself to consider that you are not alone. Whatever is arising in this moment, whether it's insomnia or physical challenge, considering that there are so many human beings around the world who have this condition right now. Or you can expand it: they've had it before or they will have it.

Wishing well, opening to metta, to compassion for yourself and all the beings with this predicament. May all of us have ease in our bodies. Imagining perhaps a man here in the same country, a woman on a different continent, an older being on an island. It's okay to use your imagination to get a sense of the common humanity of this. See if you can connect with a few other human beings in your imagination. Their challenge, their difficulty, not so different from yours.

In order to help open up the heart, the compassion: May all of us have ease. You can be supportive. Instead of just thinking of myself, feel solidarity. So many humans, all of us holding our challenge, our difficulty with grace, with dignity. May all of us have ease. May all of us have goodness. All you dear fellow human beings just like me, may all of us be free from this challenge. May all of us have goodness in our lives.

All of us held with universal compassion and love by the Buddha, a being of light, or whatever compassionate archetype works for you. Or perhaps all of us holding each other with care, solidarity, and mutual compassion. See what works for you.

Maybe going back and forth to giving compassion. Imagining a few individuals or one individual: May you be free, may you have ease, fellow human being, dear friend. Or may both of us have ease. May all of us have ease. Giving, receiving, sharing. Opening your heart. A teacher in compassion and wisdom, deepening your humanity.

Noticing how your heart can experience generosity. Pain not as a problem to hate, to be afraid of, but as an opportunity to open the generosity of your heart for others, for yourself.

The last few minutes, letting your physical body be held in this expanse of care, generosity. Wishing, sharing the generosity of your spirit through this challenge. All beings everywhere, may all beings be well. May all beings be free, including ourselves.

Thank you everyone. Thank you for your practice.

Reflections and Q&A

So we have a few minutes if there are any questions, comments, insights, or reflections that you'd like to share for the benefit of others out of your care and compassion. You're invited to share in chat or raise your hand. If you share privately, I won't read your name. If you share publicly, I will read your name and the reflection.

One private message: "That was lovely. Thank you."

You are so welcome. May it be of support to you now and anytime in the middle of the night, or anytime you have pain or insomnia, which I have had my fair share of with my chronic illness. It's a great opportunity for practice. It's a gift. A gift of darkness, as Mary Oliver would put it in a poem. A friend once gave me a box of darkness; it took me a while to realize that this too was a gift. May we realize that the gifts of darkness are truly gifts.

Dave, I see your hand. Another private message: "Thank you so much for that." You are welcome. So Dave, please.

Dave: Yeah, thank you for this so much. This is exactly what I've been needing lately. Some time ago, you said something I thought was just the most remarkable thing I've ever heard anyone say—so brace yourself, this is going to be a little praise—when you said, "I get to suffer." I get to suffer, and you were sincerely pleased with that. What a benefit and a gift that is to the practice. I've been struggling with tinnitus and that helped immensely. The other day I said to my acupuncturist that I'm going to try to treat it, in principle, as the hiss of mindfulness. She liked that, and I've been working on that, and it has helped a lot. I just want you to know that it's not as bad as it was. Every once in a while I get a pang of dread for what it might be in the future, but the future is not here, and the practice is really helping me out. So thank you very much, Nikki.

Nikki: I am so deeply touched, Dave, as to how supportive the practice has been to you and the shifting of your perspective. I am so moved by that, knowing how challenging tinnitus can be for so many, yourself included, and how you've shifted your perspective to be, "Oh, a hiss of mindfulness." Wow. How that shift in perspective has attenuated it, made it softer, easier, has brought freedom. In the Buddha's words, really, that is what freedom is. You know, nibbana^[3], awakening, and freedom seem so holy, but this is freedom. It's right here, Dave, you're experiencing freedom with respect to your tinnitus. So thank you so much. Beautiful.

And thanks, Morgan, for finding the poem from Mary Oliver: "Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this too, was a gift."^[4] What a beautiful poem. Thank you to Mary Oliver.

I also want to thank the practitioner earlier in the practice discussion who offered what they were working with so that their practice can serve everyone. I want to acknowledge them and thank them for their practice, as they've offered it to us as the inspiration for this evening.

So dear ones, let's turn into practicing together in small groups. If you can stay, please do. It's such a privilege to be able to connect just for a few minutes with fellow practitioners. And if you have to go, it's okay, but don't go out of fear. I'm going to create the breakout rooms. As always, take care of yourselves, take care of each other. Don't forget metta, compassion, and that these fellow human beings you meet in the small groups are just like you. They have experienced physical pain, they have experienced insomnia. All of us have. Opening the rooms. Take care of yourselves, take care of each other. Here you go.

[Breakout sessions]

Welcome back everyone. We have a few minutes for reflections and comments, if any insights arose for you. Jerry, I see your hand. Please go ahead.

Jerry: Thanks Nikki. We were talking in the group about the sangha^[5], as well as the small groups being the additional secret sauce of the sangha. Not just the physical pain, as was mentioned about tinnitus, but also psychic pain. Even if they're separate or connected, the experience of the warmth of the sangha and the small groups actually takes the edge off of this. One person called it an adhesive; you want to keep coming back for it. I would say, well, maybe addiction is too strong a word, but I get withdrawal when I don't get here. It's a wholesome addiction.

Nikki: It's dharma desire, yeah. It's wholesome. It's beautiful. Thank you for sharing that, Jerry. The power of sangha, the power of connection with understanding fellow humans who are on this path is so powerful. Thank you for highlighting that, especially when we're going through physical, emotional, or psycho-spiritual challenges. We can't do it alone. It's so hard to do it alone. Greg, I see your hand.

Greg: It's a mark of the quality of the people in this sangha. I've unfortunately lost two of my best friends in the past week, one of them yesterday. To have the confidence to share that with the two people who were in my breakout, and have them offer metta to me in a very meaningful and beautiful way, said something about the group and about the sangha. It gives me hope for what is best about humanity. So thank you collectively for that.

Nikki: Thank you, Greg. Thank you so much for sharing the heartbreak. Holding you with tenderness and care. Losing two of your close friends in one week is hard. Thank you for feeling comfortable and safe enough to bring it into the small and big group, and being open to be held with metta and compassion. Thank you for what you said.

I've gone over time. I wanted to say that I'll see you on Friday, but for next Wednesday and for the future Wednesdays, there will be a substitute. As many of you know, I'll be teaching a course called Befriending Mortality, which I think many of you have already signed up for, so I'll see you in that course.

One last reflection from the chat says: "In my group there was mention of the brahma-viharas^[6], and I recall how they are also useful for meeting suffering within ourselves and in others. I'm also reminded of the talk I heard before about discerning between the brahma-viharas and their near enemies."^[7]

Oh yes, there's so much there to discuss, as we have also covered in Happy Hour at different times. It's such a rich area. Thanks for bringing that in.

So thank you all. Thank you for your practice, for supporting each other and yourselves on this path. May all beings be well, may all beings be free, including ourselves. Thank you.