[HealthDharma] Disability and Practice

[Onki]

Hey All,

I have a question:

How does your disability affect your Practice?

Gasshō,

On

st/lh

[Taiji]

Hi, Onki,

I'm not sure the extent to which my challenges are what you're looking for here, but for whatever they may be worth, and with acknowledgement that they are likely very minor relative to what others face, here's how what I'd consider my main ones affect practice:

Migraine - I'm still learning how to live with my migraines, which flared up in the last couple of years and sort of took over my life. I can manage them somewhat, but they cannot ever really be eliminated, so I've had to come to accept that sometimes, they're just going to show up and crash the party to a greater or lesser extent. They require me to have to squarely face reality as it actually is, and sometimes that is a huge challenge, especially when they take me out of commission for an extended period. Learning to accept it all has been an adjustment. It's taught me a lot, especially about how much I still want to cling onto that life simply won't allow me to keep anymore (e.g., dietary triggers, old behaviors that make them worse). In terms of the nuts and bolts of practice, it's caused me to have to be forgiving of myself and flexible. For instance, sometimes I can do incense. Some days it's an express ticket to Headache Town. Most headache days I can sit okay. Some days...not at all, though those are thankfully rare.

Mental Health - Depression and anxiety have been with me a long time. Most days, I can more or less coexist with them. The constant background hum of dark, self-destructive thoughts and the panicked chatter of my anxiety has sort of just become like a radio static that I've learned to mostly tune out. But then, other days, they begin to escape containment, and the noise gets overwhelmingly loud. They really shine a light on the need to remind myself, in my practice, that my thoughts (and especially self-destructive thoughts) are just thoughts, and I'm not required to believe or act on them. The hardest part is learning to let the depression howl and the anxiety scream, but to simultaneously just sort of...hang out on the couch with them and let them be, while also not buying what they're selling or giving them a platform. Therapy has been a very important thing.

Neurodivergence - I've talked elsewhere about my rampant, visible-from-orbit ADHD and how it affects my memory. It also makes habit formation very hard, and this means that every practice is always something I have to constantly consciously maintain and reinforce. That means it's easy to over-commit, overload, and burn myself out. It also means that I constantly have to attentively prune the things I'm devoting my attention to and refine them...because otherwise I can't keep up with them. That makes practice pretty hard at times, especially alone. But practicing with others makes it easier, so I am very grateful for this sangha for that and many other reasons.

Again, not sure if that was what you're looking for, and my apologies if it wasn't.

Gassho,
Taiji
Sat/LAH Today

[Shonin Risa Bear]

My hearing disability (70 decibels, both sides, then complete loss in one ear) began as a small toddler. Chronic lower back trouble began in my 20s. Heart trouble began in 2018. Leukemia appeared in 2022, I think. And cognitive impairment has set in. Those last three I call "age appropriate" with a slightly embittered chuckle. Well, it is what it is.

My teacher Kenshin had high hopes for me but had a hard time corralling me into the priesthood, as my body's readiness for the roles she envisioned was never a given.

We studied the situation. She had known Darlene Cohen, a roshi who suffered from acute rheumatoid arthritis and cancer and who adapted to these things and wrote books about suffering. Here's an article of hers: https://inquiringmind.com/article/19...hen_curiosity/

From Cohen and others we got ideas: at Bird Haven Zendo I devolved from Burmese to a bench to a chair to a zero gravity chair, which is still my shikan-taza boat. I sometimes do doshi from that chair, or in the lounge chair I use for a bed here in my bedroom. Whatever is at hand becomes the offering: an oximeter, a penlight, a pair of glasses, a thermometer. Sometimes I need oxygen. I bow out, put on the cannula, fire up the concentrator, and bow in.

Some might think all this interferes with zazen (certainly it does not much resemble the instructions in the fukanzazengi). The answer I have ready for that is: what doesn't interfere? Even at our healthiest, our heads are full of horses, baseball scores, sex, sudden sharp memories of picking up a sand dollar and a crab claw on the beach, falling down in snow, missing that note in our one solo in the band concert, the fly that got into the zendo. We are Buddhas in between all these interruptions, and then one day it doesn't matter. They're not going away. But they're just scenery. The moment one no longer holds oneself as "the meditator that is doing meditation, the activity that is more important than thinking about that dropped egg carton is the moment called "letting go." It doesn't magically clean up our heads ever after, but whaddya know, we've forgiven ourselves, if only for a moment. It's a start.

Cohen says we can train ourselves by attending to the minutiae of the scenery. I notice this best during food prep. Once it's just me, the cabbage, the knife and the cutting board, time somehow slows and I'm me but I'm also the cabbage, the knife and the cutting board. The back pain doesn't vanish but it no longer draws on my illusive and petulant self-importance.

Grass, trees, and lands which are embraced by this teaching together radiate a great light and endlessly expound the inconceivable, profound Dharma. Grass, trees, and walls bring forth the teaching for all beings, common people as well as sages. And they in accord extend this Dharma for the sake of grass, trees, and walls.

Went long, oh well.

gassho, shonin lah and sat

[Onki]

Hi, Onki,

I'm not sure the extent to which my challenges are what you're looking for here, but for whatever they may be worth, and with acknowledgement that they are likely very minor relative to what others face, here's how what I'd consider my main ones affect practice:

Migraine - I'm still learning how to live with my migraines, which flared up in the last couple of years and sort of took over my life. I can manage them somewhat, but they cannot ever really be eliminated, so I've had to come to accept that sometimes, they're just going to show up and crash the party to a greater or lesser extent. They require me to have to squarely face reality as it actually is, and sometimes that is a huge challenge, especially when they take me out of commission for an extended period. Learning to accept it all has been an adjustment. It's taught me a lot, especially about how much I still want to cling onto that life simply won't allow me to keep anymore (e.g., dietary triggers, old behaviors that make them worse). In terms of the nuts and bolts of practice, it's caused me to have to be forgiving of myself and flexible. For instance, sometimes I can do incense. Some days it's an express ticket to Headache Town. Most headache days I can sit okay. Some days...not at all, though those are thankfully rare.

Mental Health - Depression and anxiety have been with me a long time. Most days, I can more or less coexist with them. The constant background hum of dark, self-destructive thoughts and the panicked chatter of my anxiety has sort of just become like a radio static that I've learned to mostly tune out. But then, other days, they begin to escape containment, and the noise gets overwhelmingly loud. They really shine a light on the need to remind myself, in my practice, that my thoughts (and especially self-destructive thoughts) are just thoughts, and I'm not required to believe or act on them. The hardest part is learning to let the depression howl and the anxiety scream, but to simultaneously just sort of...hang out on the couch with them and let them be, while also not buying what they're selling or giving them a platform. Therapy has been a very important thing.

Neurodivergence - I've talked elsewhere about my rampant, visible-from-orbit ADHD and how it affects my memory. It also makes habit formation very hard, and this means that every practice is always something I have to constantly consciously maintain and reinforce. That means it's easy to over-commit, overload, and burn myself out. It also means that I constantly have to attentively prune the things I'm devoting my attention to and refine them...because otherwise I can't keep up with them. That makes practice pretty hard at times, especially alone. But practicing with others makes it easier, so I am very grateful for this sangha for that and many other reasons.

Again, not sure if that was what you're looking for, and my apologies if it wasn't.

Gassho,
Taiji
Sat/LAH Today

Hey Taiji,

Thank you so much for sharing.
I’m also neurodivergent and struggle with mental illness and I 100% agree with you in that it makes practice a little more… Shall we say… Challenging.

I hear everything you’re saying from memory issues, over committing to things, and burning out.

That’s the great thing with practice. We can be struggling and remember the Precepts and how to act skillfully.

I really like your example with your anxiety and depression where they are constantly in the background, but at the same time you are able to accept them and let them be.

Thank you so much for sharing!

Gasshō,

on

st/lh

[Onki]

My hearing disability (70 decibels, both sides, then complete loss in one ear) began as a small toddler. Chronic lower back trouble began in my 20s. Heart trouble began in 2018. Leukemia appeared in 2022, I think. And cognitive impairment has set in. Those last three I call "age appropriate" with a slightly embittered chuckle. Well, it is what it is.

My teacher Kenshin had high hopes for me but had a hard time corralling me into the priesthood, as my body's readiness for the roles she envisioned was never a given.

We studied the situation. She had known Darlene Cohen, a roshi who suffered from acute rheumatoid arthritis and cancer and who adapted to these things and wrote books about suffering. Here's an article of hers: https://inquiringmind.com/article/19...hen_curiosity/

From Cohen and others we got ideas: at Bird Haven Zendo I devolved from Burmese to a bench to a chair to a zero gravity chair, which is still my shikan-taza boat. I sometimes do doshi from that chair, or in the lounge chair I use for a bed here in my bedroom. Whatever is at hand becomes the offering: an oximeter, a penlight, a pair of glasses, a thermometer. Sometimes I need oxygen. I bow out, put on the cannula, fire up the concentrator, and bow in.

Some might think all this interferes with zazen (certainly it does not much resemble the instructions in the fukanzazengi). The answer I have ready for that is: what doesn't interfere? Even at our healthiest, our heads are full of horses, baseball scores, sex, sudden sharp memories of picking up a sand dollar and a crab claw on the beach, falling down in snow, missing that note in our one solo in the band concert, the fly that got into the zendo. We are Buddhas in between all these interruptions, and then one day it doesn't matter. They're not going away. But they're just scenery. The moment one no longer holds oneself as "the meditator that is doing meditation, the activity that is more important than thinking about that dropped egg carton is the moment called "letting go." It doesn't magically clean up our heads ever after, but whaddya know, we've forgiven ourselves, if only for a moment. It's a start.

Cohen says we can train ourselves by attending to the minutiae of the scenery. I notice this best during food prep. Once it's just me, the cabbage, the knife and the cutting board, time somehow slows and I'm me but I'm also the cabbage, the knife and the cutting board. The back pain doesn't vanish but it no longer draws on my illusive and petulant self-importance.



Went long, oh well.

gassho, shonin lah and sat

Hey Shonin,

Thank you so much for sharing.
Good for pointing out (and reminding me) how everything we do is Practice-everything we do is Zazen, whether that is reaching for your Glasses, needing to put on your oxygen, changing positions to be more comfortable. You have adapted to what your body needs, including sitting Burmese to using a zero gravity chair.

You “go with it” without clinging-without holding onto anything.

“What doesn’t interfere with Zazen?” This is such a great reminder (especially for me!) Life happens and things get in the way. We suffer. We cling to our thoughts and believe them to be true. We want things to stay the same, despite knowing they won’t. Or wanting something to be different, knowing that isn’t possible.

We need to accept what is, not what we want/how we wish them to be.

Thanks again for sharing.

Gasshō,

On

st/lh

[Shinkon]

Hi, Onki and everyone!

Disability and practice. When I first sat in 2001, my depression and burgeoning neurological issues felt like an annoyance. After guidance and a few more years, they transformed into the integral reality of the person I was in the moment, like the hairs on my head or the fingernails. A few years later, my neurologist diagnosed me with MS. However, MS became not necessarily a characteristic or a flaw, but a passenger on my life's path that could not be ignored. MS stole, and continues to steal, my mobility and energy, and, at times, further exacerbates my depression.
Depending on how good or bad my day is, I sit zazen on a chair, a cushion, or lying down. Kinhin is still possible. When I can perform walking meditation, I enjoy it. Other parts of my practice, studies, and assignments take increasingly more energy over time. Another difficult choice I face is that I may have to give up substitute teaching.
Yet, practice carries me. My sangha and the dharma provide much-needed sustenance and support. Finally, the beauty and wonder of it bring me joy.

Gassho,
Shinkon
satlah

[Shonin Risa Bear]

Spring blossoms ...
Spring blossoms are also falling blossoms.
-- ryokan

gassho
shonin lahsat

[Onki]

Hi, Onki and everyone!

Disability and practice. When I first sat in 2001, my depression and burgeoning neurological issues felt like an annoyance. After guidance and a few more years, they transformed into the integral reality of the person I was in the moment, like the hairs on my head or the fingernails. A few years later, my neurologist diagnosed me with MS. However, MS became not necessarily a characteristic or a flaw, but a passenger on my life's path that could not be ignored. MS stole, and continues to steal, my mobility and energy, and, at times, further exacerbates my depression.
Depending on how good or bad my day is, I sit zazen on a chair, a cushion, or lying down. Kinhin is still possible. When I can perform walking meditation, I enjoy it. Other parts of my practice, studies, and assignments take increasingly more energy over time. Another difficult choice I face is that I may have to give up substitute teaching.
Yet, practice carries me. My sangha and the dharma provide much-needed sustenance and support. Finally, the beauty and wonder of it bring me joy.

Gassho,
Shinkon
satlah

Hey Shinkon,

That’s great to hear the Sangha and Practice are your anchor.

I think our Reality definitely changes because of disability, but at the same time it can be a catalyst learning to work with what we have. We can really feel the pain inside of our bodies.

We can push it away, or see it as our Practice.

Gasshō,

On

st/lh

[Seiko]

How does your disability affect your Practice?

Disclosure.
My medical conditions are:
Visual impairment,
Myalgic Encephalomyelitis,
Fibromyalgia,
Bursitis in hips,
Worn out knee joint in need of surgery,
Arthritis.

What bothers me the most this week:
Hayfever.

So,
In my view, disability in my life is just an integrated part of how my mind and body function. In other words, it's normal. So, with this mind and body, I practice, however I can.

I think we do a great job of compartmentalising our lives and our world, analysing, trying to understand - perhaps we shouldn't. In fact, people with disabilities have families, go to work, have interests, like good food, laugh, have sex, go to the toilet, sing, watch TV... it's all pretty standard for us.

So my suggestion is to throw out that word "disability" and all those ideas of what that means - both for ourselves and for others. None of us can really experience how it is to live as someone else - with a disability or not - and we can't live a day in the life of anyone else in this sangha or elsewhere. We all just do what we can do. Genuinely, someone who just broke their leg may be in more pain than me, even though I had chronic pain all over my body for the last 14 years. Someone with a simple head cold may be suffering more than me, because I am adjusted to my conditions, but their cold may have taken them off guard.

In a way, the state of my health doesn't matter - shouldn't matter. Just practicing in whatever way I can today is the jewel.

Gasshō, Seiko, stlah