Cultivating Buoyancy in the Midst of Anguish: Reflections ... · CULTIVATING BUOYANCY IN THE MIDST OF ANGUISH 6 Preface The title, “Cultivating Buoyancy in the Midst of Anguish”,

CULTIVATING BUOYANCY IN THE MIDST OF ANGUISH 1

Cultivating Buoyancy in the Midst of Anguish:

Reflections for Caregivers from The Gulf Oil Spill

Anna SinghDeo

Upaya Buddhist Chaplaincy Program

Culminating Learning Project Paper

March 2011


Paper Summary

This paper explores caregiver buoyancy as it relates with presencing suffering. It is a

phenomenological study into the cultivation of three buoyancy factors present during my

Bearing Witness in The Gulf practicum, completed in the summer of 2010. Trainings,

practices and personal experience are examined as contributors to increased buoyancy.

With the word “buoyancy”, I am describing one’s ability to remain afloat. This paper

finds an undeniable link between strengthening our capacity of heart and showing up for

the plaguing conditions of our world today. The explorations of this paper also show that

the call to be of service can function as a pathway back from despair and to wholehearted

engagement.

Keywords: caring for the caregiver, transforming grief,

cultivating buoyancy, bearing witness to suffering, oil spill aftermath


Acknowledgements

While I would love to specifically mention each and every appreciation alive in my heart,

I will instead as Roshi says ‘go to essence’. In regards to this culminating learning

project, a few individuals in particular must be named.

Capt’n for offering a window into his Barataria Bay; such gift, far beyond a boat ride

3SmartGirlz for your vision and support in making this journey to The Gulf possible

Rakushin for reminding me to shine the light of awareness onto my own journey

Norah for companionship throughout this chaplaincy path; from winds

whistling through tree branches to waters dancing along Turtle Island’s shores

Storm Caller Sisters for encouraging the arrival and flight of this swan

Olympia Circle for offering such kindness and teaching on deep friendship

Ronni for her loving four-leggeds and restful home to support my writing marathon

Christina B. for believing in my capacity to bring forth this offering of story

Sensei for your depth of care; from Prajna to Upaya, to The Gulf and back; Thank You

Roshi for sounding the bell bringing me back into the company of two-leggeds

Dhammapali for listening with your whole heart when my voice was only a whisper

Shoshone for providing the bridge for me to cross over finding my way back to trust

Narendra for staying in this country and taking me under your wing as your own

Grandmother Ponderosas for bearing scars with grace and reminding me to stand tall


Honoring My Teachers

In honor of all my teachers,

those in non-human and human form,

those experiences both enjoyable and dreadful,

those times of encouragement as well as discouragement,

all have served as gift and learning.

For, any single change in this collage of life

would not have brought me to this moment of time and place;

where all the raw material I have been given turns to medicine

and is now offered in service to the world.

I am endlessly grateful for gazing out this window,

seeing Bald Eagle soar by with such perfect timing,

answering each moments query in the writing of this paper.

Magically and mysteriously, I have been well provided for

in an awe-inspiring way while completing this chaplaincy training program

Countless friends and loved ones have offered their hands, hearts and homes to me.

Above all, it has been through their grace and generosity

that I have come to realize,

truly,

“We are all in this together”!


Dedication

To all my family members,

ancestors and those in body,

of blood or not,

our pathways were meant to cross

for that,

I am eternally grateful.

You are held sacred in my heart.

This body of work I dedicate to you…

May you be free of suffering,

May you know peace,

And,

May our love be boundless.

And, to all beings of this world, seen and unseen, with and without voice…

May the sentiments reflected here, be to your great benefit!


Preface

The title, “Cultivating Buoyancy in the Midst of Anguish”, literally came to me

one day, like a whisper on the wind. During a particularly intense time in the middle of

this two year training, these words just dropped in. I wrote them down and shared them

with a few friends. From that day forward, they have brought me much inspiration.

They seem to be an echo of some kind…a reminder, an offering of possibility, a way of

being while in the midst of suffering. In actuality, this title speaks to the central

experiential learning of my life, how to remain afloat while in an ocean of grief. These

words point to a quality essential for anyone in our world today, wishing to live with eyes

and heart wide open.

This body of work is the confluence of two rivers which have run through my life:

A passion for grief and being with others during times of bereavement, and an immense

joy in caring for nature and all that is wild. Initially, it seemed this chaplaincy training

would bring me more into the sphere of people and grief-work. As for my love of the

natural world, I figured it would simply continue being expressed through means other

than my vocation. However, early on in the program these two streams merged. First, by

realizing wild landscapes as integral to my own grieving process. And second, by seeing

the magnitude of grief resulting from environmental degradation. I did not, however,

anticipate a real world training opportunity during the course of this program. This all

changed with the Horizon Oil Spill. An unimaginable training opportunity integrating

two of my deepest interests, grief and the natural world, called me to The Gulf.


Barataria Bay in the Aftermath of the Horizon Oil Spill

Grand Isle, Louisiana

After a couple days of being in Grand Isle, it was clear that the BP Clean-up

Effort was succeeding in keeping much of the environmental damage from public view.

Many beaches were closed with US Coast Guard and County Sheriff patrols. Roads were

blocked by police checkpoints limiting access to only a select few. Whole islands were

off limits to anyone without special clearance. The devastation from the Horizon Oil

Spill was successfully hidden from view. I did not come all the way down here to the

Gulf Coast to leave without getting a firsthand sense of the ecological losses. To leave

Grand Isle without directly bearing witness to the environmental death would be, for me,

a turning away. I had to see with my own eyes, to feel with my own heart, the results

from our human-induced hemorrhaging of Mother Earth.

When our boat charter was scheduled there was no mention about why we wanted

to go out into Barataria Bay. Capt’n had no way of knowing that the three of us were

chaplains in training ready to bear witness to the ecological suffering, to see the results of

the largest oil spill in the history of the world. And further, that one week earlier two of

us had just completed a training which explored the emerging field of “environmental

chaplaincy.” There we were four of us setting out to see for ourselves. Capt’n in his

fishing boat guiding Norah, Marlee and myself, three chaplains in training at Upaya Zen

Center (UZC). While making our way out of the harbor into the backwaters of Grand

Isle, we passed many oil wells and various signs of the local economy’s oil dependency.


Capt’n himself worked in the industry until a few years ago, when he was able to

purchase this boat and switch jobs.

Moving out into the estuary, we saw countless small boats with flags flying

indicating their affiliation with the BP Clean-up Effort. Over our total trip time of nearly

four hours, we were the only independent boat I saw. Capt’n explained why he held out

and didn’t sign on with BP, “I didn’t want to have to be a part of the company line. But

now, I’m not so sure that was the best choice. I’m having a real hard time paying my

bills.” The worry and struggle he grappled with was apparent, both on his face and

everywhere around us in this estuary. “This is lifeless. There should be schools of fish

everywhere. Feeder fish should be so thick along these shores. The whole surface of

these waters should be glistening solid with schools of little feeder fish. And then,

there’d be the larger fish. Whole schools should be following right behind, larger fish

feeding on smaller fish. It’d be teeming with life out here. It’s all gone. It’s dead. This

is lifeless.” His words helped me get a sense of the stark contrasts between what was and

what is. Traveling farther out, clean-up crews were fewer while signs of oil increased.

Nearing the end of our two-hour scheduled charter time, Capt’n said he wanted to

continue farther out. By revealing his determination to see firsthand the truths of his

beloved Barataria Bay, the intention of our boat ride changed. What began with us

desiring access to these waters and hiring him as our guide had shifted into us

accompanying him on a journey to witness the losses in this salt marsh estuary. Until this

boat ride, he had not been out here to see any of these results from the oil spill. I was

amazed at Capt’n’s ability to navigate this endless maze of islands and channels. “How

does he find his way out here?” silently I wondered. Brilliant blue water surfaces smooth


as glass, abruptly butting into thick black bands, lined the edges of bright green marsh

grasses gently swaying. The view was infinite, expanding out as far as my eyes could

see. It was beautiful and surreal, at the same time. Beautiful, until my mind judged the

shiny black bands separating blue from green as gut wrenching. Surreal, due to how

incomprehensible the magnitude of such expansive lifelessness was. No sounds or

activity served to distract me from this timeless moment, an experience of all-consuming

deadness.

After hours and miles upon miles of boom, we spotted a break. This was an

invitation to go inside behind the boom and closer to the salt marsh. Should we go

through these sinking brown saturated, snake-like attempts of protection? Capt’n killed

the boat’s engine. As if stalking prey, we slowly and quietly approached for a closer look

wanting to see the oil and damages. He looked up. A small plane was overhead. Was

this a spotter plane we should be concerned about? Would they report our actions of

entering inside? Capt’n pondered this out loud. He turned his radio on to listen, to keep

informed of consequences to our actions. Boat engine silent, we floated in. Soon, close

enough to smell the thick black oil laden shoreline. Extensive marsh kills, dry stiff

brown dead stalks of grasses the whole length of this island edge. Complete perimeters

of islands suffocated in thick toxic oil. No shoreline remained for waterfowl to feed and

nest in. Capt’n once more declared, “This is lifeless.” Maybe he needed to speak it out

loud for it to sink in. There we were, floating. No boat engine. No signs of life. No

sounds at all. Again breaking silence, with deep reverence words came out of my mouth,

“It’s like we’re standing here in the middle of a massive gravesite.” “That’s exactly

what this is,” Capt’n confirmed. I felt a release of breath with this reply. Was what we


were witnessing more bearable by speaking it? A sea of countless bodies lay in the water

just below us. No way of knowing the numbers. Carcasses lining the bottom of this bay.

This is when it became clear. I was bearing witness to Capt’n’s viewing of his dead

beloved, Barataria Bay. The initial intent of this trip was for him to show us the

ecological consequences of the spill. That transformed into us being present to his seeing

the massive scale death of this estuary. A profoundity beyond words descended. We had

been given the eyes of Capt’n, a sacred lens for seeing into environmental death. This

was being with dying on an ecosystem level. Barataria Bay, long recognized as one of

the richest salt marsh estuaries of the North American continent, was now, as far as I

could see, dead and dying.


Piercing Question Demands Reflection

Upon my return from Louisiana to UZC, a friend gently inquired, “How did you

not fall into despair when you were down in the Gulf?” Stopped right there in my tracks,

I found myself speechless, without response. In effect, she had asked, “How did I not

sink from despair? How was I able to stay afloat and bear witness to the suffering from

the Horizon Oil Spill?” I had not yet even asked myself this question. In fact, my initial

reply was, “I really don’t know.” Answering her question required switching my

channels, from presencing to reflecting. While in The Gulf, I had been dialed into “being

present with.” My care and attention was present to the moment and situation right in

front of me. Now, I was being asked to change the channel, to “reflecting upon”. And

further, to find words explaining my ability to stay afloat.

It had only been two days since I had left the Gulf Coast and returned to Santa Fe,

New Mexico. I really hadn’t even begun digesting my experiences. After another

moment or two, a few more words came. Offering further reply to her, I said, “Actually,

all I know is that I didn’t fall into despair, and 3 or 4 years ago I probably would have. I

would not have been able to witness what I did without falling into despair. Something

inside has definitely changed between then and now.” This brief and potent exchange

invited me into deep reflection. I began asking two questions that I will explore here in

the context of this paper;

• “What has changed between 3 or 4 years ago and now?”

• “What contributed to buoyancy while bearing witness to suffering in The

Gulf?”


The first question, relates to the likelihood that back then, I would have been sunk

in despair with such a trip to The Gulf. A few years ago, despair kept me turning away

shielding and protecting myself from further pain. I took the pathway of disconnect.

This led me deep into a world of despair unequipped to turn toward suffering and stay

buoyant. Paradoxically, turning toward and connecting with suffering has been how I

found my way back from despair. This ultimately led me to respond to the suffering in

The Gulf.

Regarding the second question, there are three aspects that kept me afloat. They

are: 1) factors of buoyancy; 2) training and practices cultivating each factor; and

3) mechanism of buoyancy. First, this paper examines each individual factor, its

cultivation through training and practices, and how it was helpful to me while in The

Gulf. Then, we look at the working definition of buoyancy, the mechanics of how these

separate factors worked together during my trip to The Gulf.


Factors of Buoyancy

In light of the immense levels of suffering in our world today, I am compelled to

inquire into this question. “What contributes to the capacity for staying afloat amidst

such suffering?” A plethora of experiences over many years led me to bear witness to the

aftermath of The Gulf Oil Spill. Training components of the chaplaincy program along

with many life experiences together form my present-day capacity for buoyancy. Here, I

will focus on identifying specific trainings and practices which cultivate buoyancy.

Three primary factors I found central to buoyancy in The Gulf were:

• Show-Up: Bring WholeHearted Attention to Just this Moment

• Know Your Resources: Practice Reciprocity in Caregiving

• Relax into Larger Field: See with Curiosity and Big View.

Show Up: Bring WholeHearted Attention to Just This Moment

“Showing up” is a response to the pain we see in our world. This factor of

buoyancy is a result of being connected and feeling one’s own heart quiver along with

that pain. Not that long ago the pain of being in this world felt too great for my own

heart to bear. Overwhelming despair took me out of the game, out of being engaged with

our world. Suffering drove me to take refuge in wilderness. I went toward what

nourished me. In the expansiveness of big wild landscapes, I received enough solace,

respite and strength for return. Nearly a decade later, my desire to engage with the world

in a meaningful way guided me back, and called me to show up.


Show Up

Moving toward something painful or away determines whether we strengthen our

connection with it or our disconnection. We commonly recoil and move away from pain.

This is a natural gesture of the human heart. Soon after the oil spilling began, I was

presented with just this choice. Would I move toward or away? Would I show up or

not? This time, my response was a turning toward and connecting further. A few years

ago, I responded by attempting to circumvent the pain. Now, something inside has

changed. Today, there is a capacity making it possible for me to turn toward the

suffering in The Gulf.

Bring WholeHearted Attention to Just This Moment

Looking at the “how” of showing up is critical. The ability to “bring

wholehearted attention” requires first that our own heart is whole. Have we shown up for

our own pain and integrated those long forgotten parts? Whether we have or not will

determine our capacity for wholeheartedness. The answer to this question has

dramatically changed for me over the past few years. When preparing for The Gulf, I

asked myself the following question. “Do I have enough inner steadiness and strength to

bear witness to what is unfolding in Grand Isle, Louisiana?” With eyes-wide-open, I

realized the trauma and suffering I would be exposing myself to down there. The last

thing I wanted in The Gulf was to find myself in over my head, emotionally triggered and

sinking. Unhealed personal pain is a trigger for exactly that. Without first having

integrated one’s own lost and forgotten parts, we can easily become emotionally

triggered and end-up adding to the very suffering we intend to ease. Wholeheartedness

brings with it an inner steadiness.


“Attending to just this moment” is equally important in how I showed up in The

Gulf. This is the capacity for bringing an alert steady attention to what lies right before

us. It is a flashlight beam at night kind of attention. Just as we choose where to shine the

flashlight, we can direct and hold our attention. A steady attentive mind gets tested by

our heart when it wishes to recoil and remove itself from painful situations. Attending to

just this moment in many ways contrasts the highly regarded multi-tasking of our world

today. This factor of buoyancy is an awareness with piercing clarity. Like a camera

narrowing its frame, we can zoom in giving wholehearted attention to what is right before

us.

Cultivating this Buoyancy Factor Through Training and Practice

Within the Upaya Buddhist Chaplaincy Training (UBCT), two streams of training

run the length of the program. These are the inner and outer chaplaincy trainings. In

Cultivating Compassion and Fearlessness training, Roshi Joan Halifax (2010) referred to

inner chaplaincy training as a “maturational arc fueled by the aspiration to ease

suffering.” This inner chaplaincy developed my capacity to show up in the face of

suffering. First, it required that I break open and surrender into the unhealed places of

my own heart. Second, it offered sitting meditation practices focused on lovingkindness

and compassion toward these pains found within. These two concurrent practices were

key in cultivating my ability to show up wholeheartedly. Together, they provided the

container with healing balm for the lancing and integration of old wounds. This

amazingly insightful barebones practice allowed the grief, long held at bay, to break right

through as I sat steadily on the cushion.


After some weeks of doing these practices, I began experiencing the rise and fall

of grief, much like waves, building, cresting, breaking and eventually receding. The

waters swelled into wave cresting in my heart, mind, body. Tears flowed easily, carrying

energy, transforming. Then in the next moment, relief and just below that, a calm joy.

Water and tears cleansing and releasing, exercising the muscles of my heart. Such

practices strengthening my heart, increasing my capacity for turning toward my own

suffering. No longer was I spiritually bypassing or turning away from emotional and

psychological pain.

In moments when the grief felt too great to bear, I found encouragement from

others. Sobonfu Some (2009) offered an experiential learning into the indigenous

wisdom ways of her people, the Dagara of West Africa. Twice, I participated in three-

day community grief rituals she facilitated. These were an extreme contrast to the

grieving ways of my people, in the United States. For the Dagara, grief is honored and

released in community. It is accepted as a natural part of everyday life. I too see grief as

a normal response of the heart when things don’t go the way we wish.

These words Roshi Halifax (2009) posted on the Upaya Weekly Newsletter gave

further go ahead to continue diving into these waters of grief, to keep swimming until I

reached the other side. “The Buddha is pointing her toward the place where personal loss

is transformed into a piercing tenderness toward everyone who’s ever suffered…And she

needs the awareness of a greater community in order to recover and heal fully.” By

turning toward traumatic memories and grief, I stumbled onto the training field for

bearing witness to suffering in The Gulf. I have come to realize something about

vulnerability. When I feel the need to protect or disconnect, there is still the vulnerability


of a wound. When I can meet the situation with an undefended openness, then the

healing has been done.

During training with Joanna Macy, there was a specific moment marking my

return from despair. As she offered wisdom and passion, words and practices, deep

inspiration welled-up within. I felt a renewed commitment, as suggested by Macy

(2010), to “walk into the field of suffering and transform it into sacred fire, into healing

space.” This is when I knew I had journeyed back from despair. In this particular

moment, however, there was no way of assessing the capacity for bearing witness to

suffering. That would still have to be tested in real life.

Equally important to integrating long forgotten parts of my heart was cultivating

an inner quietude and steadiness. Silent sitting practices have long been a part of my

regular routine. Over time, such methods can develop self-awareness and inner stability.

The capacity to give moment-by-moment attention to suffering unfolding right before me

is a direct result of sitting in the midst of my own internal pain. Of course, developing

such steadiness can be a dance with fire. We learn how to keep our footing when

something threatens to knock us off our feet. My personal healing journey has at times

felt like a careful walk along the edge of a cliff. Discharging traumatic memories without

further traumatizing my self has been, at times, very tricky. Strong emotional energy can

be released. Therefore, a degree of caution is necessary when dancing along cliff edges

and with fire. At the onset of this integration work, I reached out for guidance from

others who had already safely and wisely made similar crossings.


Cultivating this Buoyancy Factor While in The Gulf

When I first heard of the Deep Water Horizon oil spilling, my whole body and

heart responded. Back in late April, 2010, a few days after the spill began, a deep

visceral churning inside my chest demanded my attention. Originating down in my gut, it

rose up through the center of my torso. Somatically, my body cried out. I watched

online live-feed footage showing oil gushing from the seafloor of The Gulf. My mind

grappled to make sense of this: “Greed-Driven Hemorrhaging of the Earth”. For days,

this question would not let me rest. “Who is at the bedside of The Gulf?” Over the

years, I have been with enough death and dying to see a pattern. When someone or

something I care about dies my natural gesture is to go to the bedside, to simply presence

the waning life-force. The situation in The Gulf was inconceivable to me: The loss of so

many beings and us, the responsible ones of oil-driven ways, turning away. This

relentless question beckoned me: “Was anyone there, where land and water meet, holding

sacred space?” I could not bear turning away from this tragedy. To not bear witness was

clearly not an available option. I had to go to The Gulf.

A deep aspiration to ease suffering in this world called me back from despair and

disconnection. Now, this oil spill presented real world suffering, a place for me to

respond by diving in. It would prove to be an application of the healing, practice and

training of recent months. Embracing the call to show up came after a long return

journey. And, it is through the very act of showing up that my capacity for presencing

suffering has been strengthened. As Fleet Maull (2010) succinctly states, “Going into

those places that scare us increase our capacity to bear witness. Just be there…and let


that place do the work, the transformative potential, on us.” The very act of responding

and remaining afloat while in The Gulf cultivated greater buoyancy.

Know Your Resources: Practice Reciprocity in Caregiving

“Know Your Resources” refers to the connections and networks of support within

which we exist. We all need a safe place to lean now and then. This factor of buoyancy

is about realizing our interconnectedness and that we are all in this together. When we

open to supportive connections, we are in fact building our resource base. There are

many types of resources; inner and outer, human and non-human to name just a few. By

developing our networks of support, we are building a raft which floats and provides our

baseline buoyancy. Each resource is another log lashed into our raft. Making the choice

to presence suffering is a launching of our raft in stormy seas. In rough water the other

two factors of buoyancy, Show Up and Relax into Larger Field, become even more

important for staying afloat.

Know Your Resources

This view of interdependence, of realizing the imperative for networks of support,

helped me to have my eyes-wide-open when preparing for my trip to The Gulf. Realistic

about the potential for trauma exposure and the importance of resourcing while down

there, I asked myself the following question. “What supports and needs for self-care will

be important while I am in The Gulf?” In effect, I was cultivating greater buoyancy for

myself even before arriving. Forethought given toward safe places to lean while down

there supported my capacity for bearing witness to suffering.


Practice Reciprocity in Caregiving

“Practicing Reciprocity” means remembering to care for ourselves while

answering the call to care for others. Self-care can be a challenge, especially for

caregivers. Chuckling, I ponder, “How can I offer myself as a safe place for others to

lean, and expect to be free from needing to sometimes also lean on another?” As a

chaplain in training, learning the reciprocity of needing safe places to lean is paramount.

For years, I held tightly to the idea of being a separate independent self who didn’t need

anybody else. I was functioning as a “lone wolf” on the path to becoming a “lone ranger

chaplain”. This view, based in mistrust, came from a history of growing-up without a

safe place to turn. The aspiration of serving as a chaplain requires practices of self care

and of reciprocity in caregiving.


The UBCT program is grounded in systems theory, in the realization that

everything in our world is a function of relationships. Joanna Macy (2010) describes this

as “interexistence”, which invites us to experience the currents and streams of our

knowing in terms of our relatedness. We do not exist independent from one another;

rather we exist interdependently. By lashing our rafts together or as Macy describes it

“by linking arms” our buoyancy increases.

Early on in the program, while training with Laurie Leitch (2009), one exercise in

particular shed light on the imperative that I develop a wider resource-base. Tuning

inwardly to my breath and outwardly to nature as supports were already well-developed.

Turning toward humans was not. Leitch invited us to list of all our resources. My list

was shockingly short. “Breath,” the only word listed on my paper. “How could this be?”


my mind groped in the dark for an answer. This exercise spoke volumes. It was heart-

wrenching and crystal clear. To even dream of being sustained as a caregiver, as a

chaplain, I had to first learn a lot about resources and networks of support. This was

when the importance of a having base underneath me became clear. It was time to gain

an experiential understanding of interdependence, of what it means to realize

interconnectedness through lived experience.

The community grief rituals led by Sobonfu Some (2009) were practices of

bearing witness to and holding sacred one another’s deepest anguish. Upon returning

from the grief altar, each individual was welcomed back into community. Being held and

supported by community while in the midst of grief and broken-heartedness was deeply

transforming. Equally remarkable was a new found well of strength and ability to

presence immense levels of pain and suffering in others. Through these experiences, I

found that we become more whole by sharing our vulnerabilities with one another. By

way of strengthening connections with others, I have become better resourced.

Earth and wild landscapes have long served as my source. One course elective I

completed during the training was a wilderness fast in the mountains of northern New

Mexico. Alone in the wilderness for four days and nights fasting, my experience was an

ecstatic feasting in community. So much nourishment and companionship offered by

Nature! Guardians standing watch over my chosen solo site, there was a friendliness

with three majestic Grandmother Ponderosa Pine trees,. These lightning-bolt-struck

Grandmothers, with scars of electrified beauty spiraling down the breadth of their mighty

trunks to Mother Earth, invited me to join them. Standing tall and bearing scars with

grace, beauty and power. They beckoned me to stand like them in the face of pain and


vulnerability, deeply rooted between Earth and Sky. Out in the mountains, I remembered

that renewal comes from being with wild landscapes. Nature asks nothing from me. She

is so easy to be with. She exists on her own terms. She gives respite. This is a much

needed counterweight to being with the world of humankind. These days and nights of

the wilderness fast reminded me to regularly choose restfulness and renewal as a matter

of good selfcare.

When in the city, in the concentration of humans, I need physical connection with

Earth to replenish and sustain. Realizing Nature as integral, I frequently visited a small

nearby patch of woods. My sense of connection with the Earth was strengthened by

doing two practices regularly. The first practice was spending time with trees.

Sometimes, I’d simply sit in silence meditating at the base of a large maple or cedar,

sensing into their roots directly underneath me. Other times, I leaned against these grand

tree trunks, my back to their trunks while standing, feeling their uprightness and support

against my spine. Accompanying these practices with trees were many waves of

gratitude for their gift of oxygen and for the air I breathe.

The second practice is a sensing into the ground of the Earth. While lying with

my back against the ground, I placed my mind’s eye to where my body was in contact

with the Earth. This is a variation of practices taught by Reggie Ray (2010), called

“Earth Breathing” and “10-Points Practice.” With eyes closed and knees bent, I relaxed

into the places where my body touched the Earth feeling the endless support beneath me.

Sometimes, coinciding with alternating in and out breaths, I focused my attention and

sensed into feelings of support and release. Often, the image was one of sensing into


being held by the Earth, much like being held in the palm of a caring hand. These

practices proved very powerful to my sense of connectedness with the Earth.

Above, I have described outer resources in terms of human as well as non-human,

both integral for selfcare when in need of replenishing. Buoyancy for caregivers depends

on caring for oneself. This begins with one’s own ability to tune inwardly, to assess inner

well-being. A few moments of stopping in silence is like taking one’s own internal

temperature reading. The thermometer tells us if we’re running hot or cold, tense or

calm. By sensing my own inner state, I realize when it is time for self-nourishment.

Sustained caregiving requires a variety of supports as well as knowing when to use them.

Early on in the chaplaincy training when sinking from the weight of unattended

sorrow, the imperative for strengthening my outer support system became apparent.

Today, resources abound. Whether from an uplift from seeing a beautiful sunrise or the

tender warmth of another’s heartfelt care, resources are there waiting for us to turn

toward them. I only realized this, however, when I was most in need of a safe place to

turn. I would not recommend waiting until then. Much like maintaining wellness in

terms of physical health, it is best to keep your raft of resources lashed and tended so

when the storm hits you float. Networks of support must be built from the inside out. It

is easy in our modern culture to apply our efforts to shoring ourselves up from the outside

in. But, we must not be hollow centered, leaning only to the outside for support. My

own experiences have shown that sustained caregiver buoyancy depends on having a

deep broad base consisting of both inner and outer resources.



Five of us from the UBCT program made the trip to The Gulf. Before our

departure, we agreed to meditate together regularly each morning and night while in

Grand Isle. This structured practice provided three layers of support. First, as mentioned

previously, meditation practice brings a solid foundation of inner steadiness and stability.

Second, this practice was a bearing witness to my own inner experience resultant from

presencing the suffering of the external surroundings. This is the real pearl for

cultivating buoyancy while in the midst of anguish: The practice of self-awareness, of

one’s own inner experience, concurrent with presencing suffering in our outer world.

And finally, to sit regularly with my companions in this chaplaincy program brought a

deep sense of connectedness and support. An experiential realization of all being in this

together. Sharing this journey with spiritual friends proved vital.

After the boat ride out into Barataria Bay, having someone available to debrief

with was immensely helpful. Turning toward another in this way was like lashing an

additional log to my raft. It was a profound gift to sit with one another, allow emotions to

arise, not get blocked, and flow through to release. Similar to the community grief

practices of the Dagara people, we were accompanying one another and sharing deep

vulnerability. By resourcing with one another, we strengthened connection and increased

buoyancy.

Sometimes, rather than turning toward another person, I connected with Earth and

Sky. At waters edge under moonlit nights with stars and lights of the oil industry

glistening, I allowed the days unfoldings to flow right through. Illuminated beads formed

a necklace of light at horizon’s edge, where dark waters meet night sky. Upwards of


forty light beads in all, each signifying the oil industry’s command of these waters, of

economic ways down here on the Gulf Coast. Sitting on the sand dunes at night with

stars and oil platforms twinkling provided ample time for quietude and reflection.

Sometimes, walking along edge of land and sea without any particular destination or aim.

The spaciousness of horizon and sky brought rejuvenation. In this way, the ground of

Earth and the expanse of Sky served as nourishment and floatation device.

A well-developed resource base and baseline of buoyancy existed prior to my

going to The Gulf. And this was a good thing. Grand Isle in the aftermath of the

Horizon Oil Spill was not conducive to constructing a raft that floats. Rather, it was a

place for practicing when to utilize resources that already existed. Before going, I knew

that bearing witness to suffering would add weight to my raft. So, I asked two questions

before going. Previously mentioned, the first had to do with selfcare while in The Gulf.

This proved useful in that it gave rise to the discussion that the five of us from the UBCT

program shared at UZC prior to embarking on our journey. The second question gave

consideration to my return from The Gulf. I asked myself, “What resources will be

helpful for integrating the experience upon my return?” This motivated me to contact a

chaplain trained in trauma resiliency techniques. We made plans to meet when I returned

New Mexico. Upon returning from the Gulf, I met with Susan Rush (personal

communication, August 30, 2010), a chaplain at St. Vincent Hospital in Santa Fe. Given

her trauma training, it was wise to debrief my experiences with her. During our meeting

she commented on how “resourced” I was. Her statement revealed what I had not yet

fully comprehended. With Susan’s assistance, the wide base of resources present in my

life became clear. This is the crux of the answer to the driving question of this paper;


“What has changed?” More than any other change over the last 3 to 4 years, it was this

newly found breadth and depth of support that contributed to buoyancy while in The

Gulf.

Relax into Larger Field: See with Curiosity and Big View

“Relax into Larger Field” refers to the doorway present and waiting for us each

moment of our life. If only we see and open to it. This third factor of buoyancy is a

quality of expansive awareness. It is the ability to zoom-out, like changing the aperture

of a camera and taking in a wider, more encompassing view. Every moment, wherever

our attention lies, whatever our point of focus, many possibilities exist about where we

place our mind’s eye. There are two layers to this capacity of awareness. One has to do

with our mind and how flexible we are in terms of our view and perspectives. The other

relates to an ability to open into a field beyond words and concepts of our mind. This is

an experience of sensation-based wordless awareness.

Relax into Larger Field

While in The Gulf, relaxing into larger field allowed emotional strains to dilute

into a much greater body of water than just that of my own tears. Shifting to include a

more expansive field than what lay right before my eyes invited relaxation. With this

shift and broadening of field, a somatic letting go happens in the body. This is not a

turning away from painful events. Rather, it is a widening of one’s perceptual field.

Stressing events can exist right along side non-distressing realities. It is a zooming-out to

see the huge field of support available and accessible for us, if only we lean into it. It is a


whole-body, heart experience beyond the limiting aspects of patterned thoughts and

responses.

See with Curiosity and Big View

Having flexibility of mind allows us to connect where otherwise we might not.

Bringing “curiosity and big view’ with us as we presence others allows us to penetrate

judgments which can cause separation. We see through the “us versus them” view and

our capacity for connection grows. In day-to-day living, I do this by asking, “What

attitude would I like to carry with me into interactions with others, with the world?” This

choice about the placement of my mind functions like a doorway. What room I enter

determines my view. This view then drives my interactions. Seeing this, we can choose

our attitudes and views much like choosing which threshold or doorway to cross. Greater

flexibility of mind increases the likelihood for opening, even in situations where

habitually we would be more likely to shut down.


The ability to hold multiple opinions simultaneously and to see diverse

perspectives has been with me for some time. To a large degree, this capacity is the

result of being influenced by my step-father from India. Early in life, his Eastern lens

met my Western reality. Our journey as father and daughter not only presented great

opportunity for, but required, flexing and changing. This relationship was a training in

staying connected beyond our differing realities and world views. I have only recently

realized the extensive value and benefit that such ways carry for our modern world.

During a visualization exercise in “The Power of Compassion” training with

Matthieu Ricard (2010), there was a moment which showed the powerful relationship


between what we imagine and amplify in our mind’s eye, and our emotional and

physiological arousal levels. It was a remarkable experience. The immediate heart

responses directly correlated with shifting thoughts and images. While previous

awareness of this relationship between heart rate, emotion and thought – between body,

heart and mind – existed for me, it had never before been this clear! This experiential

learning was unforgettable and central to my training for bearing witness to suffering

with buoyancy.

Throughout the UBCT program, Roshi Halifax (2010) wove a continual thread

encouraging us to drop below polarization. She urged us to really find a way to deeply

care about another, especially the “enemy”. To meet others from this place requires

penetrating my own mental formations, of conceptualizing and judging others and their

actions. This is not an easy task! And, it is crucial for expanding my awareness and

coming from big view.

A central component of the UBCT program is the requirement for taking sixteen

healing vows or precepts. I completed extensive study and practice with them. Three in

particular served as guiding principles for going to The Gulf. “The Three Peacemaker

Order Tenets” (2009) , in highly abbreviated form are:

I vow to live a life of:

• Not Knowing; to give up fixed ideas of myself and the universe.

• Bearing Witness; to presence the joy and suffering of the world.

• Compassionate Action; to commit to healing myself and others.

While in The Gulf, these vows repeatedly helped me to enter and relax into a larger field.

When needing a place to ground, they served as my bedrock. By starting with “not


knowing” rather than “thinking that I knew,” my perspective could shift and my

awareness could expand more easily.

Further training came from sitting on the cushion in choice-less awareness

meditation. This is a mode of observing what arises within, in mind, heart and body can

be like watching a movie play out on the screen. In the microcosm of such practice, the

constant arising and passing of experience is clearly visible. That continual change is the

norm becomes very apparent. In the macrocosm of life, observing all the beginnings and

endings, unceasing transformations of birth and death, has also contributed to seeing this

continuity of change. Lived experience has shown me that the winds of change are

constantly blowing through life. Over and over, life asks, that I relax here, in this larger

view of impermanence. Embracing continual shifts, changes and transitions affecting our

relative existence is essential for being buoyant. This relates closely with one of the three

vows or guiding views, to accept not knowing. Buoyancy increases by dropping the

weight associated with thinking that I know or that I can control a given situation.

During Geshe Tenzin Wangyal Rinpoche’s teachings, he explained that in

challenging situations there are two choices (2010). Either change the situation or change

my view of the situation. Sometimes, it is not possible to change a situation. The

environmental realities which lay before me that summer day in Barataria Bay are a good

example of that. It is these times, that I am most called to relax into the field larger.

Realizing when we can and cannot affect change in a given situation is the critical point

here. There is a futility in trying to control or change something beyond my ability.

Provided this is clear to me, then I can choose to relax, finding buoyancy in the larger

ocean.


Similarly, the most profound field of practice for my training has been when death

is near. Much of my preparation for presencing suffering in The Gulf has come from

experiencing the death of loved ones and related grief. Maybe, that moment of death is

really the edge where, if we are lucky, we get an opportunity to learn what it ultimately

means to relax into larger field.

A few weeks prior to going to The Gulf, a close friend called requesting my

services. She presented me with another opportunity for training. Earlier that week, her

five year old son’s father was lost and died in an avalanche on a nearby mountain. She

wanted support with stabilizing herself so she could be more present to her young son

and his pain. In the early mornings before he awoke, she and I practiced together. I

wove together grounding with the Earth practices and information about the

parasympathetic learned from Laurie Leitch (2010). This combination proved very

helpful. With her back resting on the ground, I offered guided meditation. I asked her to

sense into the support of the Earth beneath her. In essence, this was a practice of rooting,

releasing and renewing. Feeling the rooted connection with the Earth. Releasing tension

and anxiety from the body down into the Earth. And, renewing with each inhalation of

breath. Each time we practiced in this way, she responded by commenting on how calm

and centered she felt, ready and more able to be there for her son when he awoke. This

experience depicts a tuning into the Earth and accessing the grand parasympathetic

support system that is there just beneath us all the time.



Once down in Grand Isle, I was presented with more opportunity to strengthen

this factor of buoyancy. Following are two examples. One relates to seeing with

curiosity and big view while the other is a relaxing into the larger field.

Shifting our mind’s eye requires flexibility and curiosity as well as the capacity to

control where this flashlight beam of our attention shines. With these abilities, a whole

range of options is available. Curiosity brings a sort of open-awareness with it. We can

meet the situation in front of us with the willingness to inquire, discover and learn.

Instead of seeing through the lens of “knowing”, we come from a place of not knowing.

It was this type of curiosity and willingness that allowed me to connect with a BP Beach

Clean-Up Supervisor while in The Gulf. When I first approached the sand washing and

cleaning operation, my mind was shooting judgments like fireworks. The heart

wrenching realities of this massive scale environmental disaster were the fuse for my

thoughts. Beaches along the whole Gulf Coast, literally hundreds of miles beyond what

my eyes could see, all in dire need of oil clean-up. And directly in front of me, this beach

clean-up work station of relatively minuscule scale felt absolutely futile. The pain in my

heart fueled disgust and frustration with what my eyes were witnessing. Still, something

called me to approach more closely, to bring a sense of openness, and to inquire further.

I asked the guys sweltering in heat-stroke conditions as they worked the equipment,

“Who can I talk to about some of my questions?” With a perplexed look on his face, one

of the guys pointed to a truck and said, “The guy you need to talk to is over there in that

truck.” After a brief walk toward the sand dunes, I was knocking on the dark tinted

tightly sealed window of the BP Supervisor’s air-conditioned company truck.


Immediately upon the lowering of the dark window, a veil separating us vanished. The

weariness of his eyes penetrated my heart, shattered my preconceptions and put out my

fuse. Here, was the larger reality. Together, here we were. In an unprecedented

situation! Even those at the top are at a loss of what to do in response to this oil spill.

Our shared humanity connects us. Having curiosity made it possible for the BP

Supervisor and me to connect. As a result, the heaviness I had carried with me over to

the truck dissipated. By opening to the larger perspective of our shared humanity and

heartache, there was more buoyancy in the situation.

After a few days of being in Grand Isle, heaviness and pressure from the suffering

was accumulating. I decided to bring this weightedness out to the beach. A full moon

night was a good time for ceremony at waters edge. Firmly planted on the sand, I gazed

out across The Gulf. With each inhale I took in the brilliance of the night sky. On each

exhale, I sent well-wishing for this whole Gulf Coast system; plants, animals, humans, all

life. I asked for forgiveness, for my actions, for our actions which have contributed to

what was before me. Whether it was the practice of ceremony and prayer or sitting with

honor and respect for all life, I don’t know. What is clear is that when I open to that

which is so enormously beyond me, I am uplifted and more buoyant. Sitting with my

body firmly on the Earth and opening to the Infinite above and below was an experience

of ground and groundlessness in the same moment. By relaxing into this larger field, I

received a deep sense of endless support, of the world always available for me to lean

into, when need be.


Mechanism of Buoyancy

Buoyancy Defined

In terms of physics, buoyancy is defined as the capacity for an object to float in

liquid as determined by the difference in pressures above and below that object (Physics

Forum, 2010). As downward pressure or weight on the object from above increases, the

object submerges. Similarly, as pressures from below increase, uplift occurs and the

object rises floating higher in the liquid. Hence, buoyancy is really all about relationship.

It is an alive, moving quality. Buoyancy fluctuates in response to changing pressures.

For the purpose of this paper, buoyancy can be understood in terms of three primary

components

1)a raft made of logs floating in water;

2)a weight bearing down through this raft, from above;

3)an uplift pressure coming from below, up through the raft.

Buoyancy Factors Working Together in The Gulf

By replacing the components listed above with the three factors of buoyancy, we

have a model for visualizing how buoyancy worked in The Gulf. “Know Your

Resources” is the floating raft. “Show-Up” is the weight bearing down on the raft. And,

“Relax into Larger View” is the uplift on the raft from below. Remaining buoyant while

bearing witness to suffering was a movement or relationship that played out between

three factors.


Looking more closely, the raft is made of logs lashed together. These logs

represent our resources which keep us buoyant and afloat. The wider our resource-base,

the more naturally buoyant we are. By choosing to “Show-Up” and bear witness to

suffering, I chose to increase the weight bearing down on my raft. As we expose

ourselves to stressful situations, we take on greater loads. This added pressure pushing

down can potentially threaten to submerge the raft. Understanding this working

definition of buoyancy allows one to respond accordingly.

This is where tuning inwardly as a form of good selfcare strengthens the capacity

for buoyancy. Various possible responses exist for returning to greater buoyancy. By

“knowing your resources” it is possible to turn toward one. This action builds greater

floatation into the log raft itself. By “relaxing into a larger field”, we can receive

nourishment from a more expansive awareness. This provides an uplift to counter the

additional weight pushing down from above. By realizing the increase in submerging

pressures from above, we can take a break from “showing up”. This brings a lightening

of the load bearing down on the raft. Each response is a possible action for increasing

overall buoyancy.

Testing my capacity for buoyancy in real world conditions of The Gulf oil spill

aftermath served as a phenomenal training ground. Part of the reason has to do with

these mechanics of buoyancy. Examining the working reality of these factors helps to

understand the intricacies of how they relate with each other. In turn, it shows how we

can affect our own capacity of buoyancy while presencing suffering. Bearing witness in

The Gulf provided practice for making adjustments to these factors as needed. By

answering the call to respond and diving in, I experienced the alive, moving, working


definition of buoyancy. Indeed, this was a practicum in learning about “how to stay

afloat in the midst of anguish”.

Further, this mechanics of buoyancy model addresses the question posed at the

beginning of this paper, “What has changed between 3 or 4 years ago and now?” The

answer has most to do with my raft, with the factor “Know Your Resources”. A few

years ago, largely unaware of the necessity for practicing reciprocity in caregiving, I was

without a well-developed resource-base. Showing up in The Gulf could easily have

swamped my raft. Back then, my inherent baseline buoyancy factor was probably far

lower than the minimum buoyancy necessary for remaining afloat in the oil spill

aftermath.


The Call Guides Me Back From Despair

The Swamp of Despair

Overwhelmed with despair in the late 1990s, I virtually dropped out of society by

retreating to the wilds of rural Idaho. This move was a going back to the only thing that

made sense to me anymore…Nature. Three grievances combined to overwhelm me. At

that time, I was nearing completion of my environmental studies graduate degree and

suffering deeply from an ecological-state-of-the-world overdose. Weighing on me was

the fact of our society: Cultural norms of unchecked growth and consumptive patterns

which deny the finite carrying capacity of the Earth. Then, my younger brother found

himself in a Zimbabwean prison suffering as well as, from physical and psychological

torture. For sometime, I took various actions attempting to affect his situation for the

better. From Lovingkindness and Tonglen meditations; to speaking with the US State

Department and Amnesty International, I gave it everything. And, I was sinking. My

brother’s suffering was too close to my own grief. Especially since I had not yet turned

toward healing my own woundedness from our shared upbringing. A decade later, I was

compelled to return and somehow be of service to others. This call to live a life of

benefit initiated my return from despair. However, a long and arduous training path

would still be traveled before bearing witness to suffering in The Gulf.

Three months before starting the UBCT, I heard Jetsumna Tenzin Palmo give a

training in Portland, Oregon (2008). She told a story about a swamp, with dark and

smelly waters. She explained, “It was filled with people floundering and trying to get to

land. Some were finding their way toward shore. Others were drowning. Eventually,


able to find their way to standing and wade the shallows to land.” Jetsumna Palmo went

on to describe the responsibility carried by those fortunate enough to make it ashore. She

continued, “Upon making it to land, you wouldn’t turn back to the swamp wave goodbye

to those still floundering and say, “Good Luck, Hope you can make it to land too.” Then,

turn and walk away. Rather, you would find a way to wade into the swamp and assist

those needing a hand. You would hold out your hand, trying to help them get to land too.

However, you would need to sustain yourself, so as not to get swept off your feet and end

up back in the swamp.” This story gave me a compass bearing. She described what I had

not yet learned: The relationship between keeping oneself afloat while offering oneself in

service to others.

Responding to the Call

In 2007, I showed up at UZC after recently finishing “The Fruitful Darkness:

Reconnecting with the Body of the Earth” for the second time (Halifax, 1993). The

stories woven in this book were for years like a buoy ringing in the fog, sounding me into

harbor. Reading this book shortly after my father’s death in 1993, I found much

inspiration and resonance. Now, roughly fifteen years later, I am in the Upaya living

room leaning towards Roshi Halifax to hear her question, “Who are you?” Like a

cascading waterfall during spring run-off, out of my mouth these words tumbled. “My

name is Anna SinghDeo and I have been living in rural Idaho pretty isolated for about a

decade. It’s time for me to return and be of service.” (Personal communication, April 6,

2007) I had found my way into the harbor just in time for the start-up of a new

chaplaincy training program. Even today, I still feel a tinge of joyful amazement with the


clarity of this voice that came through and this perfectly timed arrival. The call to be of

service guided me back from despair and to wholehearted engagement. The UBCT has

given structure to this journey along with training in the swamp which Jetsumna Palmo’s

story depicted. This exploration of “Cultivating Buoyancy in the Midst of Anguish”,

addresses the challenge she described. Caregivers who tend to their factors of buoyancy

have increased capacity for remaining afloat while offering themselves in service to

others.


The World is Calling

From 30,000 feet up, I gaze down with such awe so moved by this beauty, as if

looking at a beloved. My eyes peer out this small portal to the sky, such exquisiteness of

shape, curves and swales, mountains and rivers. I revel in changing textures and colors.

A mosaic of terrain disappears, blending with horizon. Landscapes of this scale reveal

patterns of flow; drainages and runoff. Sources and courses of water are easy to see from

so high above. Rivers shape the body below, forming her arteries and veins.

This jetliner approaches Louisiana from the north. We parallel what used to be

The Mighty Mississippi. It drains the Bread Basket of America, the whole middle of this

continent. Now, these waters are laden with pesticides and fertilizers among many other

chemicals. This river has drained decades of agriculture and industry. Concrete walled

channels and damns, hardly, a river today. More like a clogged artery or vein, mirroring

conditions common now to our own human bodies. It’s an ugly picture. The Not So

Mighty Mississippi, now, a septic system running through the heart of our country.

Together, she and I will soon be delivered to Louisiana. Me, to Grand Isle for the oil

spill aftermath, and her, murky toxic waters soon mixing in with The Gulf.

And I ponder, “How have we forgotten?” “How have we gotten here, to such

disconnect, this natural system out of balance to such degree?” Bodies have a limit in

their ability to recover from clogged arteries and heart dis-ease. “Will we realize when

nature’s point of resiliency has passed?” My bearing witness to this chronic condition of

landscape proportion is unexpected. I cannot turn away from that which is so easily


visible from 30,000 feet, on this approach into New Orleans, Louisiana. The world is

calling for our response. There is no shortage of conditions plaguing our world.

Will we have the capacity of heart to show up and not turn away? This is now the

driving question. The answer begins first at home with our own dis-ease of heart. Will

we strengthen the capacity of our heart muscles to be with the whole continuum of life

playing out, the joys and the sorrows? Will we respond to this call for an intelligence of

heart, by strengthening our ability to connect and bear witness to this world?


References

Halifax, J. (1993). The Fruitful Darkness: Reconnecting with the Body of the Earth. San Francisco: Harper Collins. Halifax, J. (2009, April). On Grief, Gorillas, Elephants and Ubiri. Upaya Weekly Newsletter. Halifax, J., & Salzberg, S. (2010, August). Cultivating Compassion and Fearlessness. Training at Upaya Zen Center, Santa Fe, New Mexico. Leitch, L. (2009, March). A Step Along the Path: Considering Buddhism and Trauma. Presentation given at Upaya Zen Center, Santa Fe, New Mexico. Leitch, L., & Miller-Karas, E. (2010, March). Trauma Resiliency Model Training. Training at Upaya Zen Center, Santa Fe, New Mexico. Macy, J. (2010, March). Dharma of Living Systems. Training at Upaya Zen Center, Santa Fe, New Mexico. Maull, F., & Halifax, J. (2010, August). Dharma at the Edge. Training at Upaya Zen Center, Santa Fe, New Mexico. Palmo, T. (2008, November). Eight Verses of Mind Training. Portland Dharma Center, Portland, Oregon. Peacemaker Order Tenets. (2009, March). Sixteen Practices of a Zen Peacemaker. Upaya Zen Center Jukai Book. Physics Forum. (2010, January). Buoyant Force Defined. Retrievable at www.physicsforum.com/library. Ray, R. (2010, January). Spirituality in the Body. Teachings offered at NalandaWest, Seattle, Washington. Ricard, M., & Halifax, J. (2010, September). Power of Compassion. Training at Upaya Zen Center, Santa Fe, New Mexico. Some, S. (2009, May). Community Grief Ritual. Valley of the Moon, Glen Ellen, California. Wangyal, T. (2010, February). Purification of the Six Lokas. Gwinwood Retreat Center, Lacey, Washington.


Further Study

Abram, D. (2010). Becoming animal: An earthly cosmology. New York: Pantheon Books. Allione, T. (2008). Feeding your demons: Ancient wisdom for resolving inner conflict. New York: Little, Brown and Company. Anderson, R. (2001). Being upright: Zen meditation and the Bodhisattva precepts. Berkeley, California: Rodmell Press. Campbell, J. (2007). Sukhavati [DVD]. Producer: M. Harris with support of Joseph Campbell Foundation. ASIN# B000K7UEN6. Campbell, J. (2010). Power of Myth with Bill Moyers [DVD]. Producer: Perlmutter and Konner. ASIN# B003SXHZEA. Chodron, P. (2001). Tonglen: The path of transformation. Edited by Tingdzin Otro. Halifax, Nova Scotia: Vajradhatu Publications. Chodron, P. (2007). No time to lose: A timely guide to the way of the Bodhisattva. Boston: Shambhala Publications. Edwards, L. (2000). The soul’s journey: Guidance from the divine within. Retrievable from http://www.iuniverse.com. Greenspan, M. (2004). Healing through the dark emotions: The wisdom of grief, fear and despair. Boston: Shambhala Publications. Halifax, J. (1979). Shamanic voices: A survey of visionary narratives. New York: Penguin Group. Halifax, J. (1982). Shaman: The wounded healer. London: Thames and Hudson, Ltd. Harvey, A. (2009). The hope: A guide to sacred activism. Carlsbad, California: Hay House. Heyerdahl, T. (1996). Kon-tiki: Collector’s edition [DVD]. Retrievable from http://www.janson.com. Karpinski, G. (1990). Where two worlds touch: Spiritual rites of passage. New York: Ballantine Books. Leitch, L. & Miller-Karas, E. (2010, March). Trauma Resiliency Model Training Manual. Upaya Edition. Retrievable from http://www.traumaresourceinstitute.com.


Levine, S. (2005). Unattended sorrow: Recovering from loss and reviving the heart. Retrievable from http://www.rodalestore.com. Macy, J. (1991). World a lover, world as self. Berkeley, California: Parallax Press. Macy, J. & Brown, M.Y. (1998). Coming back to life: Practices to reconnect our lives, our world. Gabriola Island, BC: New Society Publishers. Miao, Y. (2002). Dancing on rooftops with dragons: The yoga of joy. Los Angeles: Philosophical Research Society. Mindell, A. (1993). The shaman’s body: A new shamanism for transforming health, relationships and the community. San Francisco: Harper Collins. Palmo, T. (2002). Reflection on a mountain lake: Teachings on practical Buddhism. Ithaca, New York: Snow Lion Publications. Ray, R. (2008). Touching enlightenment: Finding realization in the body. Boulder, Colorado: Sounds True. Rizetto, D.E. (2005). Waking up to what you do: A Zen practice for meeting every situation with intelligence and compassion. Boston: Shambhala Publications. Sinetar, M. (1986). Ordinary people as monks and mystics: Lifestyles for self-discovery. New York: Paulist Press. Smith, R. (2010). Stepping out of self-deception: The Buddha’s liberating teaching of no- self. Boston: Shambhala Publications. Suzuki, D. (2010). The legacy: An elder’s vision for our sustainable future. Vancouver, BC: Greystone Books.

Documents

Cultivating Buoyancy in the Midst of Anguish: Reflections ... · CULTIVATING BUOYANCY IN THE MIDST OF ANGUISH 6 Preface The title, “Cultivating Buoyancy in the Midst of Anguish”,