Mettazine For the Creative Expression of Therapeutic Mindfulness Winter 2012 In the Clearing Piercing the veil Compassion Human-Being-Together Accidental Awakenings: The Virus of Compassion The contagious power of authentic human encounter The Institute for Meditation and Psychotherapy MeditationandPsychotherapy.org
MeditationandPsychotherapy.org In this Issue CONTENTS 2 FROM THE EDITOR What is Mettazine? An introduction and invitation to contribute 3 A Touch of Heart On the ubiquity of the heart p. 3 4 The Painters Scraped Me Raw Today An acrostic of self-compassion 5 In The Clearing A mindful moment p. 5 6 Compassion Companions of the heart 7 ACCIDENTAL AWAKENINGS The Virus of Compassion Connectedness transmitted ON THE COVER "Fall" by Jelena Veskovic. Mettazine Winter 2012 Mettazine is a publication of the Institue of Meditation an Psychotherapy. All rights reserved. No part of the publication may be used without written permission. DUIS AUTEM VEL EUM IRIUE Dolor in hendrerit in vulputate velit esse molestie consequat vel illum dolore eu feugiat nulla Lorem Ipsum Dolor Consectetuer adipiscing elit sed diam nonummy nibh euismod tincidunt Ut Wisi Enim Ad Minim Veniam, quis nostrud exerci tation ullamcorper suscipit lobortis The Institute for Meditation and Psychotherapy The Institute for Meditation and Psychotherapy Senior Editor: C. Anthony Martignetti, PhD Editor: Nivi Nagiel Design and Graphics: Pam Germer editor@meditationandpsychotherapy.org 978.344.2113
What is Mettazine? FROM THE EDITOR I am very happy to introduce IMP s Mettazine, a creative e-publication dedicated to the communion of mindfulness and psychotherapy. This journal welcomes any form of art (storytelling, visual representations, poems, etc.) which speaks to how suffering is created and alleviated from the perspective of mindfulness-oriented psychotherapy. Mettazine takes the richness of these two universes of discourse and creates a new space for them to naturally blend. To include those who don t have a regular or facile artistic inclination, there will be a section on the last page called Accidental Awakenings, in which contributors can send in stories from a few sentences to a few paragraphs in length describing experiences in everyday life in which unexpected connections are made and where they are faced with surprises informing them of the unity of all beings and the oneness of the human heart. Experiences such as: random encounters with people in the street; witnessing kindness on the subway or in traffic; aiding or watching others aid strangers, people who have fallen or seem confused or otherwise in pain; or surprising twists from your therapy practice. These stories do not have to journey into the spectacular, but can and should include ordinary encounters in which we accidentally awaken. I look forward to your submissions and your awakenings (accidental or otherwise). C. Anthony Martignetti, PhD, Senior Editor page 2
A Touch of Heart BY DANIEL SPRINTZEN I have seen the heart s true nature And I have been with love. Love in its purest form is felt, not spoken. Love is boundless, spacious and luminous. To understand love one must understand its source, The heart. It is through the heart that I know love. The heart is that which connects us all, Humans, animals, insects, trees, mountains. Yes, trees have hearts, Yes, mountains have hearts. To know this is to understand. Watch a chipmunk storing nuts for the winter, Watch a stream create itself as snow and ice melt, Hug a friend without reservation, Fully be there for another, Allow a tear to run down your cheek, Cuddle with your pet, Bow your head down in submission, Feel completely vulnerable in another's presence,.. Now, put your hands on your heart center... Feel it beating... Feel love... Now go and make your own list. page 3
The Painters Scraped Me Raw Today BY SARA EPSTEIN What Language does Light Speak? Charles Wright from Cryopexy While driving to the Foothills to Hike with my dogs, I was pulled over by police for cutting off another driver, not Arrested but still startled, Terrified into a fit of tears. Lo and behold I was spilling the Anguish I had been trying to contain, to Not notice, to nullify Gone was the pretense now Unleashed were the tears About all that was changing, my daughter finally, suddenly Gone, no one living with me Entropy was over. Divorced, Older, Everyday more alone- So then, when painters scraped and prepped the surface of my house, my walls. Loneliness is bad enough, I thought Irritably as their Grating scraped the walls, my skin Hating Them. Silently I shook, until I cried in front of that Officer Duffy Panted, wailed, until he worried about me and let me go Escape to the mountains where I found I was Alive with laughter, was I now held in the larger house of the King and Queen of the Universe? page 4
In the Clearing BY CAROLINE LOEWALD Many days now, the rain pours down, dumb, Through a sticky, heavy air, blindly Making vapors that just sit on the thickets, or they wander Across the spotty road, meandering aimlessly up Between the trees and up further again, towards nowhere That red-tailed hawk effortlessly maneuvers Through the forest at an enviable speed, Whereas, just below her I fumble around, forever trying to push through the veil. But today I was lucky. I was compelled to stop. The vapors were absent. What a relief From the round hole-square peg feel of the vapors And the fruitless, stupid road! In the clearing, the sun slowly, tenderly Dried the dewy tears from the fronds. Two red-winged blackbirds perched with perfectly unaware grace On the tips of two cattails. And then they flew, Showing the orange triangle with yellow rim like a bright, Fleeting thought. page 5
Compassion BY RICH BOROFSKY, EdD Have you seen them? These two ancient, ageless companions of the heart, wayfaring the path of birth and death. Homeless as fallen autumn leaves, itinerant as the wind, they are always arriving. Even now, they are trudging towards us, this bitter winter s night. In her arms she holds a dying child (who is all children.) On his back he carries a widower (whose loss is all our losses). Like a sacred music, their love uplifts each one s most severe and solitary sorrows into a boundless and beautiful human-being-together. Just as the snow is softly falling on each branch and twig, their immense love blesses us all. Right now, if we are silent, we can hear them arriving at our own door. They know we have been waiting for them. Let them in! Let them in! Richard Borofsky 2012 page 6
The Virus of Compassion BY C. ANTHONY MARTIGNETTI, PhD ACCIDENTAL AWAKENINGS I was walking down the street with my friend one hot summer day when I noticed a man sitting on the sidewalk baking in the sun at a busy section of Mass Ave near Newbury Street where people in difficult situations don t usually congregate. He was clearly down on his luck and was available for help from anyone willing to offer a hand. I gave him a $20 bill and moved on past, but he reached out and stopped me to offer a heartfelt thank you in return. I crouched and placed my hand on his wet and citygrimed cheek and told him he was welcome. It only took a few moments but felt like a genuine human encounter one of the most ordinary, important and, unfortunately, rare experiences. I don t know why I gave him so much money, or why I touched him. My friend has seen me give money to people on the street many times over the years, so it wasn t that I had an audience I was trying to score points with. I have almost never given a $20 out. I tend towards a couple of bucks, maybe a $5 if that s what shows up in the moment, and I don t do a lot of interacting around alms-giving with the recipients. My friend said, You re a good man for what you just did. I told her to save that kind of talk for my funeral. later, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned and saw a young man in a dark business suit who said, I saw what you did and how you and that gentleman connected and I was moved to give him $20 too you helped me to be a better man today and I m going to do things like that more often. Oh, well, very cool, I said, a bit uncomfortable with the attention. As we walked on, my friend said, Wha d I tell you? rubbing it in a little. I learned that compassion is transmittable, contagious. And that good fortune uncirculated is very, very unfortunate and that success unshared is failure. And I accidentally woke up a little to the connectedness between all of us. The man sitting on the sidewalk taught me the importance of authentic human encounter, which should not be avoided because of discomfort with the act of giving, or because of the idea that giving money is enough in itself. The man who witnessed the act caught the virus of compassion and gave it back to both the man on the sidewalk and to me and vowed to spread it to others. I learned that in these acts of compassion we transmit a kind of ailment of the heart, which softens it, allowing it to expand and encompass everything and, I learned, again, that having a friend is good. Just then I heard someone say Excuse me sir, and not thinking it was for me, I kept walking until, a moment Copyright 2012 All Rights Reserved. The Institute for Meditation and Psyhotherapy. page 7