There are lots of reasons to worry right now. There are also lots of reasons not to worry. As I watch a row of forsythia bushes turn impossibly yellow, or the tips of branches transform into bleeding magnolias, I know that this season of hope is rooted in some pretty spectacular natural processes. And although I don’t entirely understand how a tree dead with winter can bring forth such striking colors, I do know that the same sort of transformations can open our weary souls.
Hope is not, after all, some mystical quality that you either have or you don’t. It can be built. You can build it in your students. And you can build it in yourself. If the world’s largest container ship can get un-stuck from the muck, so can you. If those mighty daffodils can push through layers of mulch and the last coating of snow, so can you.
Hope, of course, implies that things aren’t quite how you want them. And it gives you a way to get there. We can, to some extent, choose the emotional space we want to live in. We can allow fear, anger and sadness to occupy us. Or we can foster hope, joy, and compassion. One documented way of doing this is to practice a loving-kindness meditation.
I have to admit that this is one of my favorites. And when I do it with students, it’s one of the most impactful practices we do. Many of them are visibly affected by it, and over the years, several have told me privately how much they value and continue to use it.
It’s simple, it’s meaningful, and it feels good. The more you practice loving-kindness meditation, the more it changes you. And the more it changes you, the more you can birth it into the world, bringing hope to those around you. What if, instead of the blossom, you were the tree or the root generating that flower?
Give it a try with this guided meditation. Heads up: this is a longer one -- around 15 minutes -- so make sure you have some time before you start. And it will be followed next week with a sequel, so stay tuned.
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