Thoughts

The shedding leaves and the bare aspens outside my window are not just symbols of the changing seasons but tangible reminders of the impermanence inherent in the fabric of existence. In the face of uncertainty about the upcoming winter and the unpredictability of weather patterns, the wisdom of impermanence encourages acceptance and mindfulness, fostering a deeper connection with the flowing currents of nature and time.

'Tis the holiday season, and my inbox is flooded with thankful messages. Now, I know this might sound like just another one of those, but I genuinely want to express my gratitude. As I cultivate my awareness of my own thoughts and feelings, it’'s surprising how much easier it becomes to notice the little things, especially when I'm feeling down about people and the state of the world. Shifting my focus to find something positive never fails to lift my spirits.

In my 30s, I began contemplating the nature of this higher power, a concept I had loosely referred to as “God.” While I cannot articulate it precisely, I sensed a journey of self-discovery unfolding, intertwined with an exploration of something greater than myself. Despite engaging in Buddhist meditation for many years, I hesitate to label myself as a Buddhist because such labels feel confining. The simplicity and practicality of Buddhist teachings initially drew me in, evolving into a deeper appreciation as I delved into their profound intricacies, which seems like more of a philosophical exploration.

More than 2500 years later, while his teachings are spread worldwide, we are still facing so much suffering at every level of our existence. I find solace in practicing meditation and learning the teachings although nothing shields me from the pains and sorrows completely while joy and happiness are more appreciated when they’re present in day to day life. Yet I heard one of my teachers, Gil Fronsdal, recently say, “if you can just remember one thing about Buddhist teaching, it is about ‘no harm’.” No harm, first to ourselves, then to others including other beings. It sounds simple, but apparently it’s not so if we still find the world to be so full of harm.

I closed my eyes and opened my heart to the wisdom of nature. In that moment, a gentle breeze rustled through the cedar’s branches, and it felt as though the tree itself was communicating with me on a deep, spiritual level. The message was clear and powerful: to grow and flourish, sometimes we must be broken down. This message resonated deeply with me. It was a reminder of the resilience of nature and the enduring spirit of life. The Deodar Cedar urged me to let go of fear and embrace the transformative power of adversity. It reminded me that, like the cedar’s branches that may suffer in a storm but regrow stronger, I too can find strength and growth in life’s challenges.

Yet, rather than dwelling on an uncertain tomorrow, I am doing my best to enjoy the autumn foliage while it lasts embracing the present moment. The autumn leaves are a poignant reminder of impermanence. However, even after years of practice, staying rooted in the present moment is not a task easily mastered. The mind has a penchant for wandering, for veering off into the past or future. Yet, it is in this very struggle that the beauty of mindfulness lies. The practice isn’t about achieving perfection but rather about the journey toward it. It’s about acknowledging our wandering thoughts and gently guiding them back to the here and now. And while it may not always be easy, it’s a practice worth pursuing, for it is in the present that we find the true essence of our lives.

In fact, for some time, I have been grappling with a subtle sensation, which I hesitate to label as “anxiety,” as it feels elusive and transient, lurking just beneath the surface of my consciousness.

So I make an attempt to investigate the emotional undercurrent when I have the mindspace to do so. When those voices of despair or hopelessness arise, I try to watch and witness the thoughts impartially. More often than not; however, I find myself engaging in those thoughts which then trigger certain emotions, which then possibly lead me to act rather unskillfully.

I’m so lucky to have spent a lot of time outdoors this week. First, it was a 7-mile hike with a bunch of friends from the community on what we call, “Peak to Peak.” The trail connects Mt. Pinos, the highest peak (8,847 ft) in Ventura County with Cerro Noroeste at 8,283 ft. They are two of the highest peaks in Los Padres National Forest. It is a well-covered walk under many ancient pine and fir tree species with some ups and downs but not too difficult to traverse. We took time foraging the wild currants, learning that some of the ground covering buckwheat flowers were edible, and of course, taking pictures and snacking along the way.

A young colleague from my regenerative real estate community reached out to me recently to chat about career paths as he explored all the options and possibilities that lie ahead of him. It was rather refreshing for me to ponder on what we all do with our career in this day and time. Naturally, things are quite different from when I was in my 20s thinking about how my anticipated career path would unfold.

Even though I’m still feeling young and healthy in my early 60s, I do notice different signs of aging. I have more gray hair, my knuckles are swelling on my hands, and many other subtle differences. I’m keenly aware that I have less years ahead of me than I have behind now. While I’m very grateful for my health and vitality, I can’t help but to reflect on the remembrances in Buddha’s teaching: I am of the nature to grow old; I am of the nature to have ill health; I am of the nature to die; all that is dear to me and everyone I love are of the nature to change… There’s no way around these truths although one may argue science could change that. Yet the last of the remembrances says, “my actions are my only true belongings. I cannot escape the consequences of my actions. My actions are the ground upon which I stand.”

This morning, I went on a hike, and the transformation of the buckwheat flowers caught my eye. Their flowers had given way to a rich tapestry of rusty colors. The crispness of the air and the gentle embrace of clouds over our local mountains affirmed that autumn had arrived. It’s a poignant reminder of life’s impermanence, a cycle we embrace with each passing season.

Thank God to friends who remind me to trust and that everything will work out for the best. It’s easier said than done, but that’s actually the only solace I can find. No matter what, whether my work would actually see any tangible result or not, all will work out however it’s supposed to. Needless to say, what helps me overcome doubt and cultivate trust is to practice meditation and mindfulness regularly. Through these practices, I observe our thoughts and feelings, including doubt, without judgment. By acknowledging doubt without attachment, I can begin to let go of it and gradually develop a more profound sense of trust in ourselves and the world. And there I can find a modicum of serenity.

Less than two weeks have passed since the unprecedented Southern California hurricane struck. A few months ago, we experienced unprecedented snowstorms that wreaked havoc across California. The impact of global warming is undeniably affecting all life on Earth. As a species, humans bear responsibility for creating these climate challenges. Yet, we often resist changing our way of life in favor of continuing with our familiar routines. If households across the country or around the world were to adopt measures to reduce their carbon footprint, there’s still potential to shift the trajectory of rising temperatures and possibly mitigate the intensity of extreme weather events.

Amid this whirlwind of activity, I found myself feeling unusually stressed. Balancing my clients’ needs with my own well-being seemed like a tightrope walk, especially considering my inclination to overexert myself. Instead of resorting to my customary unwinding method of catching up on news or social media, I heeded a quiet inner voice whispering, “take a pause.” This made me realize that these habits were often just distractions, veering me away from addressing my true feelings. Despite the flutter of anxiety, I chose to confront my emotions head-on. As it turned out, much of this stress stemmed from the uncertainty of how the project would unfold.

Although I’m far from perfect, I’m making a very concerted effort to do my part of reducing the carbon footprint. Every little choice we make in our daily lives does count. Everything as little as turning off the lights when not used to being as big as putting solar panels on the roof. Bottomline, let’s be mindful of how we use the resources. If you want to hear more specific suggestions, follow me on my podcast, HomeGreenHomes, or let’s have a conversation. It’s not about the environment alone, it’s all about the wellbeing of human species and all other species we live with.

Last week, I had the honor of celebrating the birthday of one of my spiritual sisters in the mountains. As a medicine woman deeply rooted in indigenous practices, she invited us to partake in a Despacho Ceremony for this special occasion. While unfamiliar with the ritual, I embraced the opportunity wholeheartedly. The ceremony, a cherished tradition of the Incas from the Andean regions, holds the essence of reciprocity — an act of giving back to Mother Earth, Pachamama, as an expression of profound gratitude for the gifts she bestows upon us. Although my understanding was limited, I found myself immersed in this sacred experience, offering prayers for healing and harmony in our world.

Recently, a group of us with spiritual practices initiated a spontaneous gathering, forming a healing circle. In this circle, we meditate together and share our personal stories and journeys, providing each other with invaluable wisdom and support. This heartfelt exchange of experiences has been immensely nourishing, and we find solace in connecting with fellow travelers on this journey called life.

This birthday became a powerful reminder of the significance of accepting the generosity of others and relinquishing control to embrace life’s spontaneity. As I embark on this latter third of my life, I aim to continue exploring the depths of myself and learning to receive graciously. I recognize that opening up to the love, kindness, and support around me is not a sign of weakness but a celebration of our interconnectedness as human beings.

Recently, I have been facing some emotional challenges, as I mentioned before. It seems like many people around me are also going through difficult times. That is why I am even more grateful to have these young and playful creatures in my house, as they never fail to make me smile, if not burst into laughter. I have noticed how they can lift my spirits and bring me joy, even in the midst of my turbulent thoughts. It is truly a gift to be able to hold both joy and sorrow (or any other challenging emotions) simultaneously.

I was born in July near the beach, which. seemed to have imprinted a deep love for the season within me. The warmth of the sun, the soothing sound of the waves, and the cool breeze all became a cherished part of who I am. Amidst the longing for my coastal adventures, I found solace in embracing the practice of mindfulness. Mindfulness, at its core, is about being fully present in the moment, acknowledging and accepting one’s thoughts and feelings without judgment.