If there's one thing you must know about me, it's that I'm obsessed with Buy Nothing (look it up, and thanks Renna!). And I don't think using the word "obsessed" is exaggerating, either.
Last week, I was on the way to pick up yet another to-be-embroidered straw hat from a "neighbor" (a 10-minute drive away). As is typical, we often leave our gifts for our neighbors on the front porch to be picked up at the recipient's convenience. I reached the neighbor's house at the planned time and saw, pun intended, nothing waiting for me. I began to drive away after texting her that I hadn't seen the hat, annoyed that I'd had to drive all this way, and I could have just gone home, or gone to yoga instead. She responded quickly, saying that she'd been watching for me and must have just missed me, but didn't want the gardeners who'd just arrived to accidentally blow the hat away. She asked if I was close enough to come back. Still annoyed, I went back, and as I approached the door, she opened it, all sunshine and smiles, profusely apologizing and adding that she had to let me know how grateful she and her daughter were for all the stuff I'd gifted to the group that they'd received. In my experience in the group, we don't usually get too many face-to-face encounters, and I left feeling really grateful myself, for the opportunity to connect with a neighbor and receive such lovely energy that wouldn't have happened if I hadn't driven "all that way," if the neighbor weren't trying to keep the hat safe from the gardener's leaf blower, and if I hadn't returned right then to pick it up.
I left and began to think about how things like this, these situations that begin as little annoyances, are like pearls.
If you don't know or have forgotten how a pearl comes to be, it all starts with a single irritant, often just a grain of sand, finding its way into an oyster. Instead of rejecting it, the oyster embraces the intruder, coating it layer by layer with a substance called nacre. Over time, these layers become strong, resilient, iridescent, and it eventually forms a pearl.
In Buddhism, there's a teaching about "befriending your demons" that I (perhaps irritatingly but gently) offer to clients. The practice is closely related to that of Chöd, a Tibetan Buddhist meditation practice developed by the 11th-century yogini Machig Labdrön. The essence of Chöd is to confront and transform the "demons" that represent our fears, attachments, and negative emotions.
Rather than fighting or suppressing these inner demons, Chöd encourages us to invite them in, listen to them, and offer them compassion, and maybe, if you're really going for it, a cup of tea. The idea is that by confronting these fears and desires directly, and offering them loving-kindness, they lose their power over us.
There's also the figure of Mara, a demon disguised as a celestial king who tried to stop Prince Siddhartha from becoming enlightened, becoming the Buddha. Instead of seeing Mara as an enemy, the Buddha recognizes him as a part of the path, and even refers to him as "friend." This represents how our challenges and struggles may not be external enemies to be defeated, but aspects of our own mind to be understood and integrated.
Pema Chödrön often talks about this concept in her teachings. She encourages us to "lean in" to discomfort and difficult emotions, seeing them as opportunities for growth. By befriending these aspects of ourselves, we transform them from sources of suffering into gateways to wisdom and compassion.
I integrate elements of these teachings when I incorporate parts work, or Internal Family Systems, with my clients. The ultimate idea is that all is welcome - all the parts that show up are welcome, all of their feelings are welcome, and in that welcoming, we soften all the hard edges of our being. We can breathe again.
The pearl has become, this past week, a beautiful reminder that what begins as a source of irritation can, over time, transform into something precious, if we let it, and even without our recognizing it. When we encounter nuisances—whether situations, other people, or our own thoughts—it’s, in my humbly professional opinion, the most natural thing to want to push them away. But what if these irritants are there to shape us into something more refined, more resilient, and even more beautiful?
It’s difficult, maybe even impossible, to see the pearl forming when you’re in the thick of it, but I'm reminded to trust that there is a purpose to the process. By allowing myself to embrace whatever irritants arise in my day, I'm giving myself the chance to evolve into a stronger, more patient, more loving, compassionate, and welcoming version of myself.
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1 Mantra:
I welcome irritation, knowing that it shapes who I am becoming - more resilient, more patient, more loving.
1 Journal Prompt:
The next time you feel that familiar irritation rising, try to pause and reflect. Could this discomfort be an opportunity in disguise?
1 Art Prompt:
Draw or paint an image of an oyster with a pearl inside. Around the oyster, depict symbols or images that represent the irritations or challenges you're currently facing. How do these contribute to the formation of the pearl?
1 Book: - When Things Fall Apart by Pema Chödrön
- As always, with love and thanks,
BROOKIE
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