Mindfulness Meditation Podcast - Mindfulness Meditation 10/25/2017 with Tracy Cochran

Episode Date: October 26, 2017

Every Wednesday, the Rubin Museum of Art presents a meditation session led by a prominent meditation teacher from the New York area. This podcast is a recording of the weekly practice. If you would like to attend in person, please visit our website at RubinMuseum.org/meditation to learn more. Presented in partnership with Sharon Salzberg and the New York Insight Meditation Center. Tracy Cochran led this meditation session on October 25, 2017. To view a related artwork for this week's session, please visit: http://rubinmuseum.org/events/event/tracy-cochran-10-25-2017

Welcome to the Mindfulness Meditation Podcast. I'm your host, Dawn Eshelman. Every Wednesday at the Rubin Museum of Art in Chelsea, we present a meditation session led by a prominent meditation teacher from the New York area. This podcast is a recording of our weekly practice. If you would like to join us in person, please visit our website at rubinmuseum.org meditation. We are proud to be partnering with Sharon Salzberg and teachers from the New York Insight Meditation Center. The series is supported in part by the Hemera Foundation.

In the description for each episode, you will find information about the theme for that week's session, including an image of a related artwork chosen from the Rubin Museum's permanent collection. And now, please enjoy your practice. Boo! We're getting in the Halloween spirit here.

As you can tell by this fierce, wrathful deity, this is Sri Devi, and she happens to be a queen that repels armies. She is here with us today because we are closing out our month of talking about light and dark and recognizing that there's light and dark in all of us and in all experiences. And we're doing that kind of with a nod to the season that we are in right now. The day is getting shorter, the night's getting longer, as well as Diwali and the Festival of Lights inful, fierce figures in Tibetan Buddhist art, which is at the heart of our collection here at the Rubin. And so Sri Devi here is actually a wrathful emanation of Saraswati. So many of these deities have both a peaceful emanation and a wrathful

emanation, and they are considered to both be equally important and useful. And in fact, this enlightened protectress is just that, and often these wrathful deities are known as wrathful protectors. So their purpose is very important. And she's here riding a mule through a sea of blood and holding a skull cap. You can see the crown on her head has lots of skulls in it. And this is a purposefully frightful image. It is sometimes meant to startle the viewer into getting clear with what they're doing and how they're doing it to remind the viewer of awareness. But they also represent, and Sri Devi in particular, represents this kind of transmutation of negative emotions, negativity into something that is purposeful. So not dismissing the negative or trying to get it to go away, but really

or trying to get it to go away, but really channeling it and having it serve a useful and appropriate purpose in our lives, in our spiritual development. So we'll talk a little bit more about the season and maybe even Halloween with Tracy Cochran, our teacher today. And Tracy is a writer and the editorial director of Parabola. This is Parabola magazine right here. And it is a gorgeous quarterly magazine that we also do carry in our shop, but you can find it online at parabola.org. Tracy has been a student of meditation and other spiritual practices for decades. And in addition to teaching here at the Rubin, she teaches at New York Insight and every Sunday at Tarrytown Insight in Tarrytown, New York. And it's a pleasure to have her back.

Please welcome her. Tracy Cochran. I'm delighted to be back and sitting under this terrifying looking being because it's a very special time of year. And it's the thin time, according to the ancient Celts. And Tibetan Buddhist culture, of course, was very open to the idea that we dwell in the midst of the unknown, surrounded by unknown forces. So I feel moved to share with you a real-life story of something that happened to me.

of something that happened to me. Last week, I told you about my bedroom when I was in high school, which was covered with blacklight posters, and my intention was to create a psychedelic sanctum, as I told you. And I was thinking if I played just the right music, that the counterculture would rise like a whale and carry me away. And I would have a life like Siddhartha.

But another reason why I created that sanctum is that the rest of the house was so spooky. spooky. When I was 14 years old, for some reason, my parents sold our perfectly cozy little brick ranch house and bought this spooky Victorian house that had been a farmhouse. And the town grew up around it. So there was a barn. And of course they got a spectacular deal on the house. Because the people that lived there before had to leave in a hurry. Right? Which should have been a tip off. And it's been for sale ever since. But it was, this is true. The house was very impressive. And it was, this is true. The house was very impressive and it was full of old dark wood,

heavy wainscoting. And it was one of those houses where none of the door is quite closed. And there are all these spooky shadowy corners. And there was something dark, and even my pragmatic father said that there was something very sinister about the upstairs hall in particular. So my room used to be the master bedroom. And this was for the primary reason that there was inside this room a bed that made my grandiose adolescent heart just swell. But nobody else was short enough to occupy this bed. It had great big high headboard. It looked like Dracula slept in this bed, or maybe Jane Eyre.

Seriously, it had urns on it, and it had a great big high headboard. It had a great big high footboard. And it had been converted, so it had a mattress, and not a feather bed, but still, it dominated the room. And it had three windows that let in no light. Everything about the house somehow seemed to suck in light and not give it off. And I know it sounds like the standard ghost story trope,

but I just can't help it. It's true. help it. It's true. So when I was in high school, I was full of a sense of possibility. It was completely impractical, my sense of the transformation that might be possible, but it was there. And somehow during Somehow, during college, I lost it. Somehow, the 60s were quite over. And I've observed now, I'm not the only one, that by the time I was in college, I began to have a lot of self-critical thoughts.

Has anyone in here ever had self-critical thoughts? I hadn't done enough reading, or I hadn't somehow distinguished myself. And it was too late. So it was too late. By the time I graduated from college, how old was I, 21 or 22? I felt like life had passed me by. You know, because other people had graduate school or jobs. And I didn't have a clue.

And I couldn't help but notice that the world wasn't beating its way to my door. And I decided I would move to New York City, as though it was a great fire, a great warm light in the distance. And I was very cold and in the dark, and I wanted to draw close to it because there would be life. But I don't know if anybody in this room can relate to it. Establishing a life in New York is somewhat difficult. Difficult.

You know, and especially, I had no friends, no job prospects, no skills. And I remember my father saying, all you really know how to do is read and eat. I don't know what you're going to do. So I was lying in bed shortly before I was due to move to New York City. And I was really and truly a girl with a suitcase and a dream. And that was it. And I was full of anxiety about the unknown. I didn't know it would be okay. Eventually I would land what they call an entry-level job. Has anybody ever had one of those?

It meant that I could be mostly vegetarian, except that my budget required that I would know the Friday happy hours that serve free chicken wings and cheese. You know, this would be a critical part of my diet. And I had apartments that my father thought were painted by brooms. You know, the white paint that they would put on with like a broom indiscriminately. And I see nodding heads in here. It's a hard journey. So I was lying in bed feeling very anxious and sad and like somehow life had passed me by

and I wasn't wanted by the world the way other people did because I was going to stay briefly. Everybody has a roommate that instantly lands a job at the New York Times or the equivalent. You know, they're like other creatures, not like me. So I was lying there feeling this kind of dread and fear in my dark and spooky room, in my dark and gloomy and spooky house. And this is true.

In the middle of the night, the door swung slowly open, which it usually did because that's what this house was like, and standing at the foot of the bed was an apparition all in white, glowing white. This beautiful young woman in Victorian dress. I can still see that dress so vividly I could draw it. It had eyelets and the lace. And she had long flowing hair, kind of like Dawn's. And it looked like it would have been strawberry blonde or auburn and very pale. And she looked at me with kindness. Of course, I was paralyzed with terror on top of all my other anxieties. I was seeing a ghost. I was paralyzed with terror on top of all my other anxieties.

I was seeing a ghost. I was seeing a ghost. And she looked at me smiling and said, I want you to know that my name is Elizabeth. So she's telling me her name. What is happening? And my breath is rasping. I am so afraid. And she said, I've just come here to tell you that I am close by. I thought that was a curious thing to say. I am close by and you can reach me if you need me.

And I've come here to tell you, if you don't want your body, there are others who do. who do. I swear to God, in that moment, in that moment, every single cell in my emo college body wanted my body. It was like,

I want this life. I want this life. I want this life. I want to be here. And she was like, just smiling, disappeared. If you ever need me, you can reach me. And I'm thinking, no way. No way. No, I'm going to, if I get out of this and I can breathe, my legs are

paralyzed, I'm going to be the most practical woman ever. And so I'm lying there like panting with terror until my legs will finally move. And I race into my mother's room. My father was away and I'm like, mom, I know you probably think I'm tripping, but honestly, you know, I didn't have such a great reputation at that point after the day glow years, but I am not tripping and I am not crazy. I've just seen a ghost. And she said, I know you're not crazy, honey, because I've been alone in the house and I've seen a column of white. She didn't see a being who introduced herself

and said her name, but she said, and I got up to explore, and I got very sad and very cold as I approached. And my father said that they'd been away and they came in and they smelled this old-fashioned violet cologne around the fireplace. So these tales of trunks being dragged back and forth in the attic, all this stuff started to be revealed to me. and forth in the attic, all this stuff started to be revealed to me. But my intention was to be alive. So off I went to New York City and it was a long, hard

road. And I'm reminded that D.T. Suzuki once said that to have a safe and comfortable journey, you don't always get the spiritual import. Or else we think we have to go to India or something. But to come to New York, they're somewhat less friendly to strangers than India. It forces you to really think about what really matters, what's the meaning of my life. So I very slowly, for years I couldn't tell the story, I was so frightened, and I was so afraid that somehow I would draw her back. But very slowly I began to see that this very seemingly

terrifying being was a guardian, a helper, someone. And I'm here to say that it could make of it what you will. Was this a dream? Was this a real ghost? In a certain way, it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter. Because if it gets you those moments to inhabit this life, there are times when we feel like we're lost in the dark, and things seem very bleak. Nationally, the world, our individual lives. And I was telling some friends at lunch last week who encouraged me to repeat this. When Gandhi was approached once and someone said, how do you think you're ever going to defeat the British Empire?

It's impossible. They have this mighty army. They have incredible wealth. He said, I'm going to count on and collect millions of acts of compassion and kindness and cooperation. In other words, he was going to set out to remind the Indian people who they really were. That in the dark night of your despair, when you think of yourself as having almost nothing, or almost nothing to offer. You can sit down and breathe in a room like this and remember you're so much more than you fear you are. You're capable of kindness and cooperation and responsiveness. But I have to add one strange little postscript.

I went on, determined to live my life in New York, putting Elizabeth and that spooky house behind me forever. But I was always drawn to be closer to life. It wasn't any particular formula for me that was the meaning of life, but to draw closer. So at some point, I attained a job in a skyscraper in a movie company, and I gave it up to be a writer. And as always, I started at the bottom.

And as always, I started at the bottom. And I was writing these stories for New York Magazine about curious events, you know, little tiny columns. And I was assigned to go and cover the equivalent of a Tibetan Oracle, a channel, an intuitive, call it what you will. And I thought it was my job, I was playing a role, to be kind of snarky. I was in the, you know, now I'm not saying anything about New York Magazine, but I was asking questions of the medium, the oracle, while they were in a trance state and answered, answered, answered. And I was looking to expose the channel, you know, like it was just an act. So he comes out of his trance and he fixes me with a slow look and said, who is Elizabeth? Because everywhere around you, everywhere around you,

I see and feel Elizabeth. I felt quiet at that. But today I'm here to tell you that on behalf of Elizabeth and I, there's an abundant possibility for all of us to remember in this beautiful place and in our lives that we are always surrounded by the unknown and by mystery. And the gift of this practice in beautiful places like the Rubin Museum and these gorgeous works of art,

we're slowly invited to see that in the unknown there's also enormous benevolence, guidance, help, and that as Suzuki said, our lives really are, it's a travel from unknown to unknown. But I invite you to consider that when we sit down like this, which we're about to do, and open, that there are great forces of love and compassion here to help us and So with that, we'll take our seats, letting our spines be straight and our feet be rooted to the earth. And just take a moment to notice how it feels to land here in this body. Without thinking about it, without asking too much of it, just allow the body to land, to welcome it here to attention by opening. And as this softening begins to happen,

allowing the attention to come to rest on the breathing without seeking to change it in any way, just notice the in-breath sensation of being here in this body. We notice the sensation of the air on the skin, we hear sounds, thoughts arise, and we allow everything to be exactly as it is. And when we notice we are beginning to be taken away, we gently bring the attention home again to the body and come back to a vibrant life, a life that's open to the rest of life, to the breath, sensations, perceptions. Thank you. When we get taken away we notice this with no judgment, no comment, even about our comments and gently come home again to the body breathing. Okay. Thank you. Noticing as we make this movement of return, of remembering, Sati, the word for mindfulness, means to remember. We don't shut down, we open, we come out of the thinking into the body, the breathing the receiving

and letting go of life Thank you. As we make this movement of return and allowing, you may notice a light of awareness inside that isn't thinking. It's not separate from sensation. It sees without judgment. Thank you. When we drift off we notice this with no judgment and gently come back to the breath, the body and an awareness that isn't thinking, that's not separate now Thank you. When we find ourselves sleeping or dreaming or thinking, we notice and come home finding welcome, acceptance, a light of awareness that isn't judging. Thank you. Noticing how it feels to come home and be completely acceptable with no judgments, exactly No judgments. Exactly as we are. Thank you.... Recognizing as we come to close that there is awareness in the room that's like a light that we share. We put our hands together in our heart space and we give away the fruits of our efforts here to the benefit, the welfare and the happiness of all beings everywhere with no exceptions including ourselves. May all beings everywhere in every realm in every land find allies and mentors and protectors and friends and refuge. May all beings everywhere without exception including ourselves find their way to a home, to a meaning, to a sense of what matters. May all beings everywhere be at ease in their body and in their mind and be happy and be free. Thank you. That concludes this week's practice.

If you'd like to attend in person, please check out our website, rubinmuseum.org slash meditation to learn more. Sessions are free to Rubin Museum members, just one of the many benefits of membership. Thank you for listening. Have a mindful day.