Seed, Nourish, Harvest & Repeat

Seven Generations by Frederick Franck

The first time I saw this art installation titled Seven Generations by Frederick Franck at the Omega Institute in Rhinebeck, NY, I was mesmerized. Before reading about the sculpture or artist, I already started to create my own interpretation. Two things came to mind, a) overtime, there may be many iterations of who we are and at some level, we are the same as we’ve always been, and b) the decisions we make today will have long term affects for generations to come. When digging a little more into the sculpture and I artist, I learned Frederick had a plaque that once sat at the base which said,

"In all our deliberations we must be mindful of the impact of our decisions on the next seven generations."

~From the Great Law of Six Nations Iroquois Confederacy.

This got me to thinking about my own life experiences. I was at Omega for a women and leadership conference titled “Do Power Differently.” For much of my life, I have been extremely lucky to have strong, female role models who have paved the way for me to have the rich and beautiful life I get to live every day. They have been friends and family, teachers and coaches, mentors, politicians, and even strangers on the street. All of them have planted little seeds of wisdom, knowledge, and self-esteem. There is one particular seed that was planted nearly 40 years ago and with the right nourishment over the last few decades, I am harvesting aspects of peace.

When I was in third grade, I had a teacher who would guide us through a visualization and five senses mindfulness exercise. At the time, I did not have the language to name what it was. I imagine there were several classmates, if not most, who were skeptical or made fun of the whole exercise. But there was something that resonated with me. I have vivid memories from start to finish, the language and sequence she used. Recently, I found that teacher on social media and reached out, thanking her for planting that seed. Below is part of what I wrote to her-

Good Afternoon- I wanted to send a note to say I have thought about you over the years. I was in your last class before you departed BE. A few key moments of your positive influence on me stick out: 1) You cared so much about my well-being as I struggled a great deal academically. Come to find out, I had a learning disability that went undiagnosed until I was a freshman in high school, and 2) You planted a seed of building a mindfulness practice in us, which came to fruition many years later. There is one particular sequence you offered us that I have used hundreds of times over the last 20 years in yoga and meditation classes. That particular sequence was asking us to close our eyes- imagine filling out body from the top, down with our favorite color from a bucket of paint- and once every crevice was filled- imagine all the things that bring us joy, using the five senses. I recognize educators often do not receive enough acknowledgment for the hard work, dedication and compassion they off their students. A handful of teachers helped me become the person I am, and I have sent similar notes to them. All of you are held close to my heart for all you did for me. This is a long-winded way of saying, "Thank you so much." Ann Marie

In my late 20s, I found my way to yoga as a supplement to the rigorous weightlifting and triathlon training I was going through. Eventually I took a yoga teacher training to become a yoga instructor. During that training, I was reintroduced to mindfulness and meditation through a slightly different lens. A few years later, a lot of internal conflict started to develop, there were some challenging relationships I was trying to navigate, turmoil was taking a hold. After shopping around a bit to find what might help me manage my thoughts and stressors, I found myself attending Mass, visiting various meditation centers, and taking part 12 step programs. Eventually I found myself at what I now call my spiritual home, the Boston Shambhala Center. It took me a while to call it my home because I needed to nourish those seeds that had been planted decades before.

Through the practice of sitting meditation, through study of the dharma, I began to notice a shift.

Some of that internal conflict began to soften, there was a greater understanding and better communication with those who I had friction with, the concept of impermanence became a guiding light. I was beginning to harvest peace.

My meditation practice took a bit of backseat when the pandemic came around. I had lost my in person community and I had not yet established a steady home practice on my own. As the world began to open up, a dear friend from the center reached out and invited me to coffee. That one invitation was all I needed to reengage. I began to contribute more…a commitment to my own practice and study, volunteering and making financial donations to help ensure our center could continue to be a place of refuge for anyone and everyone.

cabin- Nirmanakaya

In late spring of this year, I went on my first retreat since 2018. This one was unlike all the others I have been on. My first several meditation retreats were in large groups, meaning 50+ folks; all going through the same basic structure of transitioning in and out of noble silence over a period of a week or so. To deepen my own practice and study, this spring I opted for a solitary cabin retreat in Vermont’s Northeast Kingdom. This cabin had no electricity or running water. There were gas lamps for light, a wood burning stove for heat, and jugs of water for cooking and bird baths. Once I was settled, I wanted to make it a true solitary retreat by keeping all electronics in the off position, including my phone. It was me, a few turkeys that sauntered through one afternoon, unidentifiable nocturnal animals, and my thoughts.

I spent a great deal of time preparing for this retreat. In speaking with community members who had done retreats before, I wanted to learn from their dos and don’ts including how much chocolate to take. Several weeks before heading to Vermont, I began to incorporate longer sits, developed a structure of a schedule to rotate between sitting meditation, walking meditation, study of dharma, and naps. I was intentional about choosing compassion as the theme for my practice and study. Reading and reflecting on compassion ended up bringing a lot of feelings throughout the week, all of it workable. One reason it brought up a lot of feelings is because I was also working with fresh grief of a loved one who had died just a few weeks prior. This actually provided a great opportunity for me to read about and practice tonglen; tonglen is a Tibetan Buddhist meditation practice of "giving and taking" through the breath to transform suffering into compassion.”

Upon return to my life that often feels like controlled chaos, I had a new profound sense of peace. Not in the way one might think it’s avoidance of all that is happening in our world and personal lives, but in the way I can better create space between stimulus and response. My meditation practice has provided space to work with challenging thoughts and feelings that get brought to the surface.

Circling back to the beginning of this post, storylines I created about that art sculpture still hold. A) iterations of who I am…that third grader experiencing mindfulness in the same way I am 40 years later, and B) the decisions we make today will affect multiple generations after we are gone. Seed, Nourish, Harvest, Repeat.