tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-134896542024-03-17T22:04:27.051-05:00inside spacebuddhist blog on writing, photography, teaching, life - with the aim to open inside spaces.miriamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06107671021769120700noreply@blogger.comBlogger496125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13489654.post-89917926941425646552022-01-24T11:09:00.007-06:002022-01-24T11:09:58.841-06:00Conversation with my mother on the 25th anniversary of her deathGood morning, Mama*. I can feel you here, on the couch, a being who is both present and takes up no space or weight. I think in the past you have needed me – or I thought you had needed me – on these death anniversary days. I thought you were an ancestor who was not yet well in spirit.**But perhaps it was more that I was not yet well with you, and with ancestors overall. Anyway, regardless miriamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06107671021769120700noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13489654.post-64522497568737388382021-12-20T14:38:00.009-06:002021-12-20T14:38:55.043-06:00Homage to Love and MagicOn December 16, 2021, Dylan and I chose to put our beloved fifteen year old Burmese cat, Drala, to sleep. It was a hard decision, as it always is; even though the doctor made it clear it was the right decision, as his kidney disease had accelerated rapidly to a place of no return.
Drala was a beloved being, quiet, shy, and easily startled; snuggly, affectionate, and soft. We miss him a miriamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06107671021769120700noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13489654.post-25356880064879900722021-03-15T14:11:00.002-05:002021-03-15T14:11:22.585-05:00Split Ends Bright spring sunlightpours into bathroom window - revealing split ends.**Last week Wednesday was the one year anniversary of my last live class before moving entirely online, where I continue to teach to this day. Today is the thirty-first anniversary of my father's death.The pandemic anniversary date snuck up on me fairly quickly; of course I've seen North American and European miriamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06107671021769120700noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13489654.post-33981078156389023062021-01-25T13:28:00.002-06:002021-01-25T13:28:18.087-06:00This YearAmaryllis this year, in front of painting by Mom from her early adolescence.On Friday January 24, 1997, early morning, I stepped out of the Blue Bus STD Clinic on the UW Madison campus, my negative HIV test results in hand. Out of what I thought was relief, I turned quickly to a bush and threw up my freshman dorm breakfast.I was in an open relationship, my first, with a woman and a man, both of miriamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06107671021769120700noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13489654.post-38886782200658727312020-06-21T16:48:00.001-05:002020-06-21T16:48:20.346-05:00Letter to Dad on Father's DayDear Dad, Father's Day, 2020
Michael Amos Hallmiriamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06107671021769120700noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13489654.post-66823503475575839252020-06-01T11:55:00.000-05:002020-06-01T11:58:50.364-05:00An Open Letter to Fellow White Buddhists
Dear Fellow White Madison-Area Buddhists, June 1, 2020
I am writing this letter specifically for Madison-Area miriamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06107671021769120700noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13489654.post-19713711137736302712020-03-23T16:11:00.001-05:002020-03-23T16:11:40.909-05:00Control and Chaos
Collected wisdom from my Return groups during this time.
Hello. It's been awhile since I have posted here. I fell out of habit, then I began my Patreon journey to post a chapter from my book-in-progress, Being Writing, each week.
But this week, as most of the United States and Canada has dramatically adjusted to COVID-19's impact, and my students from all over the world - really, all over miriamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06107671021769120700noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13489654.post-64548131529062104202019-09-19T13:28:00.001-05:002019-09-19T13:28:13.693-05:00Climate Striking as a Sensitive Person, Equinox Reflection
Near the equinoxes, I like to contemplate equanimity. With the climate strike tomorrow, it would seem equanimity is the opposite of what I need to be contemplating. But as I age (I am only 42, but no longer an 18 year old, that's for sure), I realize I am a highly sensitive person. It's possible I have always been this sensitive, or somewhat sensitive and I just didn't recognize or respect it;miriamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06107671021769120700noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13489654.post-44552523073955461952019-06-12T08:18:00.000-05:002019-06-12T08:18:08.061-05:00Letter to my students from Chislehurst, Kent, England
from Frank Bowling's painting "Remember Thine Eyes"
Letter to my students from Chislehurst, Kent, England June 10, 2019
Dear ones,
I am sitting in the kitchen at my elderly friends’ house, where my sometimes-called-Godmother June, her husband Bruce, and their daughter and her two adult boys miriamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06107671021769120700noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13489654.post-56598000697243201842019-03-14T11:45:00.000-05:002019-03-14T11:45:07.634-05:00Reflections on Identity
I am going through a training to become authorized to facilitate workshops with Leesa Renee Hall's Unpack Biases Now program. I am really excited to be able to use such powerful tools, developed by a whipsmart and compassionate highly sensitive Black leader, in writing. Not only do I not have to re-invent the wheel myself, and I can use her amazing tools, but I also get to support and emanate miriamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06107671021769120700noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13489654.post-14968929307109728192019-03-07T12:09:00.000-06:002019-03-07T12:09:47.240-06:00Spiritual Shadows in Whiteness Work
Trigger warning for People of Color: This post deals with the anniversary of Tony Robinson's death, recent assaults by a white teacher of a young black girl in Madison schools, and white spiritual bypassing. Please read at your own discretion.
For white folks, this post is likely to make you as uncomfortable to read as it made me to write. So please, read with kindness. But read it. It's miriamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06107671021769120700noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13489654.post-85177650202602762672018-10-01T12:19:00.001-05:002018-10-01T12:19:15.823-05:00When Dharma (and/or Dharma Teachers) Seem/s to Say You Suck
I just got done teaching a weekend program in Chicago with Acharya Charlene Leung. The title was Healing Harm for Vibrant and Just Community: Exploring Social and Personal Power.
It was a revision from a previous program she has been working on for a few years, a version of which we did in Minneapolis awhile back. The version she had been developing focused more on unconscious bias, especiallymiriamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06107671021769120700noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13489654.post-48929206818478260822018-09-04T11:18:00.000-05:002018-09-06T14:13:30.445-05:00Wide Open Heart Failures
Welcome to Miriam's Now-Monthly Missive on the Shambhala Situation,
I am writing to you again (Letter #1 is here and #2 is here) because regularity and requests have helped me assemble my thoughts and share them. As I find is often the case with practice, structure helps create a container to show up in. Without structure, I would be overcome by doubt, or give in to the idea that I willmiriamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06107671021769120700noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13489654.post-44610013530212593202018-08-26T11:56:00.001-05:002018-08-26T11:56:12.352-05:00Here Comes the FloodIt's been a very intense week in Dane County, Wisconsin.
On Sunday, I returned from co-teaching a week-long Karuna Training retreat at Ghost Ranch in New Mexico:
View of the road and Pedernal in the distance. Note the dryness, despite flash floods the first night we were there.
And on Monday night, we had severe and rapid enough thunderstorms to cause serious mass flooding not two blocks miriamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06107671021769120700noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13489654.post-25877056440883121902018-07-24T13:52:00.002-05:002018-07-24T14:03:32.664-05:00Critical Devotion: A Second Letter from Miriam on Shambhala
Dear reader,
I have wondered if there was another letter in me. The first letter, and the following piece came out like a birth and afterbirth - I wrote them quickly, while still in the full pain feeling strength of the beginning of the situation. Since then, I have noticed my feelings dulling a bit, not because the situation has gotten less intense, but because my need to feel so deeply has miriamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06107671021769120700noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13489654.post-14932933886417213762018-07-05T21:25:00.003-05:002018-07-24T12:55:07.465-05:00Where I Am(This is a further exploration - this time more felt sense - of what is "going on right now in Shambhala." See this previous blog post for the details/what is going on, and resources/links. I think this likely stands on its own as writing, but context can help. "Where I Am" is a default prompt from Saundra Goldman's #continuouspractice community.)
Revised image: Sandstorm by Linda Mead (miriamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06107671021769120700noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13489654.post-11929746508211928952018-06-30T15:27:00.000-05:002018-06-30T15:27:10.668-05:00A Letter from Miriam on the Current Shambhala Situation
A drawing I made this week when I couldn't write about this yet.
I am writing today as a teacher, Vajrayana sangha member/student, and lineage holder in the Shambhala Buddhist tradition. Most of my life is deeply entwined in Shambhala; all I teach has at least some if not a lot of contact with Shambhala. Today is the end of a very long and hard week for those of us in Shambhala, and I wantmiriamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06107671021769120700noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13489654.post-78833935939591760132018-06-12T17:09:00.000-05:002018-06-12T17:09:43.598-05:00The Surprise - and Not Surprise - of Death
This last Sunday, one of our long-term Madison Shambhala sangha members died. Fred Mather had ongoing health issues, heart ones amongst them, and so his death wasn't a surprise in a sense. Yet, of course, when we think someone might die soon and they don't, as happened a couple of times with Fred in the last few years, actual death comes as a surprise.
A friend asked today if I know how to miriamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06107671021769120700noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13489654.post-42620015357479346442018-06-01T16:04:00.001-05:002018-06-01T16:04:07.243-05:00What is Contemplative Writing, Again?
Recently I had an experience in an online class where I found myself going off in a way different direction, while writing, than I expected. Actually, I didn't know what to expect, and I ran into a trigger - a memory which carries trauma associated with it. I made the decision to *not* write about that, and came up with this piece. The prompt was "What are birds saying?"
It helped *me* miriamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06107671021769120700noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13489654.post-39829728015707197012018-05-17T18:55:00.000-05:002018-05-17T18:55:18.194-05:00Learning As Love
From the viewpoint of Earth, outer space seems so vast but full - especially in New Mexico or Colorado - the stars touching each other, crowded in the cool night air. My mind knows when we do go out into space, closer to said stars, there's actually a lot of space, further space, outer space, between the stars.
Is my mind like this? Seemingly crammed to the brim with content, commitments, miriamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06107671021769120700noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13489654.post-1984596368798897632018-05-13T19:13:00.000-05:002018-05-13T19:13:58.429-05:00How to Survive Mother's Day
A) <!--[endif]-->Having a mother
<!--[if !supportLists]-->1. <!--[endif]-->Be grateful you were born. No matter how much she angered, angers, or will anger you, find a granule of gratitude under there. Maybe it’s buried, under rage, or worry, or loss. But some part of your brilliant being knows you came out of someone’s womb. For now, there’s no other way miriamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06107671021769120700noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13489654.post-18802038498528206442018-05-03T13:30:00.002-05:002018-05-03T13:30:28.475-05:00Rage Running
Last night was a tough one. I was at the tail end of my period - the day when, after nothing happens for 24 hours, suddenly I am bleeding harder than any other previous day. The aches are deep, twisting my uterus in a spiral that grabs at all local muscles - intestines especially.
It’s been a week of bumping up against men, patriarchy, sexism, misogyny. In all kinds of ways, some subtle, miriamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06107671021769120700noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13489654.post-81989819817292164782018-04-26T10:06:00.000-05:002018-04-26T10:06:05.051-05:00Colors of Space
My intention this year was to work with space. Actually, my intention was just the word “space” - no "work with," no "feel more of," no "find more," etc. No direction at all, which is, after all, a bit antithetical to space - direction, that is.
The word arose naturally, intuitively, and would not go away, as my intention word for the year usually does. I was not surprised - I was in the miriamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06107671021769120700noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13489654.post-70740712588794689002018-04-19T12:49:00.001-05:002018-04-19T12:49:34.640-05:00Audience Versus Critic
"So, I've been thinking lately," a client who is starting her first novel said to me during an appointment the other day. "I need to start thinking about my audience - who they are, what they want to hear, what voice works."
I had just finished Jen Louden's newsletter on realizing her memoir doesn't work, after working on it for 100,000+ words. I understand - you can't just write the whole miriamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06107671021769120700noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13489654.post-8548321913445603422018-03-28T17:07:00.002-05:002018-03-28T17:07:31.387-05:00Unedited Selves
Do you have any space in your life where an unedited version of you can appear?
In a friendship? A romantic relationship? At work? In nature? On the page?
Recently, a long-term participant in my contemplative writing courses noted that this is what she appreciates most about our practice together. I had mentioned that I first appreciated this practice because the writing is unedited - not themiriamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06107671021769120700noreply@blogger.com0