Preface: Directions for Direction

NOTE: This writing piece was written long ago - but because of an assortment of factors (no wifi, fear of sharing, forgetting that I wrote this piece) - i just rediscovered it … how lovely! I am sharing because I find it a beautiful time capsule…a remembering of my initial headspace and aspirations journeying into this experience. So much has changed - my understand of self, my voice, the questions alive in me…. but this seed of aspiration is what allowed all else to unfold. It’s the processing of being and becoming that I find so beautiful. To share this preface is to share the story which created the story. Enjoy this archived preface!

Written Oct. 9th , 2023 | Revised Oct. 19th , 2023

The mentors in my life, those whom I admire and appreciate so deeply, have independently offered me the same advice in one way or another –  find a “north star”, a life “mission statement”. Write one for yourself and let that be a guiding light. 

They remind me of that fact that there are plenty of ways to navigate life from ‘point A’ to ‘point B’ (and in fact, that it one of the most extraordinary truths of life), but if we are honest with ourselves, who knows if we’ll will ever arrive at Point B....and that’s okay. By trekking towards an illuminating light, however, you’ll have been sure to leave behind a beautiful path day by day. 

The wise old sages in my life hand me compasses, encourage me to watch the rise of a full moon, and warmly pushing me to journey on. They chuckle and smile at my small antidotes of love, heartbreak, awakening, frustrations. Their advice seems to be intertwined with time – life is your teacher – keep living. You’ll figure it out eventually. 

The friends and family in my life send me sweet childhood photos and drawings and relay stories about past selves I’ve long forgotten. Dreams and aspirations I had at age 5. Personality traits that have been there since the beginning. They hand me books and well wishes and tell me to go for it. 

Directions for Direction, I suppose. 

I took time in the forest a few months ago to write a mission statement. The exact question was asked by a wise monk named Rupert:

“What do I feel called to offer our greater world in this life?”

The end product was not a sentence (at least not in the normal sense) – but in it lies truth. It’s also a great peek into how my mind works...not just in words but in colors, in lines, in stories -- 

People I love, and even strangers, describe me as something ‘cosmic’, to which I often respond –    “ Aren’t we all ?! ”. Fiery, Luminous, Lightening, a Supernova, the Sun. 

Basically, A LOT of energy. 

I was not always sure how to take this comment....you’re telling me I’m a gaseous ball of fire? What am I supposed to do with this? Am I going to explode in your face?! 

I’m chuckling to myself right now because it’s true. Whenever I’m worked up about something, my Dad says I’m in “Icarious-mode”...flying a little too close to the Sun. I have the curiosity and energy levels to go non-stop – to do anything and everything that comes my way. And caffeine brings this intensity to a whole other level – it’s like giving the energizer bunny cocaine. Yet my Dad often reminds me that the Sun has the power both to create and destroy life.

Good point, Dad. 

So when I sit with all this –– it’s clear that the first step to fulfilling a deeper mission is knowing how to direct and channel this wild energy into creative energy.  How to tend to and transformation the intensity and deep questioning I behold into actions and objects of beauty. How to live by truth, and be at home within myself. 

It is clear that after the passing of my Grandfather, I experienced an existential revelation (I do not like this word ‘crisis’, as it tends to have a negative connotation, And I think having big, awakening thoughts is beautiful). I woke up and somehow nothing and everything about this world make sense all at once. 

I was determined or deeply yearned to believe, that if I set out with no plan whatsoever, the Universe (God, Greater power, etc.) would guide me to the source of all knowledge and truth. It would lead me on journey to purpose and peace...I just had to listen. In my head this journey would look something like a year global circumnavigation. I’ve taken a disliking to airplanes in the recent years, so this journey would involve road tripping to the West Coast, sailing from California to South Asia, going on a walkabout across Australia, taking the Polar Express to venture across Russia, etc., etc..

 I really love how whimsical and explorative my brain can be. Because of this, it oftentimes gets me into really funny situations. 

  I attempted this self-discovery approach. 

Got rid of my iPhone. Bought some AAA maps, packed up all my belongings, and just starting driving up the East Coast. If I listened to the physical and metaphorical signs around me, I’d end up in the right spot. But after about 14 hours of driving in circles in who-the-hell-knows-where rural Georgia, I conceded to using a car GPS to get me to the town I was looking for. This approach was just burning gas and making my butt really sore. God talks through GPS, right?

I think what I needed was a little expansion in my approach. I needed to embrace the beauty of time and acknowledge profound moments aren’t always at the top of Mount Blanc or an island in Fiji. And maybe I’m wrong, but God is not a “fast chicken in an air fryer” type of chef. Immaculate things take time to create. 

I continued driving, but I knew Fred was right. 

For those of you who have yet to meet Fred Eppstiner – he is a very wise spiritual leader who founded and currently leads the Florida Community of Mindfulness. He really tells you like it is – there is no beating around the bush with that one. 

After my Grandfather passed, I called him up to help unravel what exactly happened and get his take on my new life plan. 

“Kate, you don’t have to “go” anywhere – life is the practice. It’s all here. This knowledge and purpose and truth your after – it’s within you. You got a peek into the pure human mind. You just can’t see it because all the ridiculous human stuff is in the way.”

Not what I wanted to hear. 

I always joked about “letting go” of everything and going to live in a monastery for a period of my life. The clarity that arises when I manage to quiet the monkey-mind is addicting – and knowing how to harness one’s mind is everything. Again, we can only meet the World with as much depth as we’ve met ourselves. But I had so much fear around doing so. How could I leave the start of a career, a newfound relationship, my family, my friends? 

But then again, I feel like I’m in a half-awakened state restlessly walking through life – feeling the expansiveness of what’s around me but not able to see everything for what it is. I’m not after true enlightenment (though I would not object to such a state !) – but I know a deeper, brighter sense of knowing is in reach. One of my dear mentors described my current position as within a womb. There being just a thin membrane separating myself from that which is greater than us all. She’s right on. I don’t fear death, I fear not fully living. Not making the most of the one, miraculous human life I’ve been gifted. 

I know well that it is entirely possible to find truth while living the life you are in this exact moment. You don’t need to go to a Monastery. Or get rid of the majority of possessions. Or completely power-down from the world for a bit of time. But when the questioning becomes so loud in one’s mind, it’s hard to tend to anything else. By placing oneself in a physical space of contemplation, away from the distractions of daily life, it allows you to breathe. It warmly embraces sensitivity, vulnerability, transition. It’s a life-trajectory changer, yet deep inside I could not imagine doing anything else.

I stumbled upon Plum Village in the most roundabout way two summers ago. I wanted to explore Buddhism and had plans to travel to France with close friends. 

So I typed in “Buddhist monasteries in France”, and there popped up Plum Village – a Buddhist monastery in southern France, founded in 1982 by two Vietnamese monastics and peace activists Thich Naht Hahn and Chân Không. After a week-long retreat, it was almost shocking how different I felt, and how much deeper I saw the World within and around me. I made a pact with myself to play the “game of life” for a bit, but the more aware you are of things, the more beauty and suffering you notice around you. And it’s hard to unsee, really hard.

Plum Village offers a year-long program for a handful of lay-people focused on promoting mindfulness, community-building, and sustainability. It starts with participating in the yearly Rains Retreat, a three-month intensive time of practice with the community. 

From what I understand, the tradition of this retreat goes back to the time of the Buddha, when the monastics would move to a different place every two days or so. However, during the Monsoon season, such frequent pilgrimages proved impossible, thus the Buddha said “Alrighty, let’s use this season to stop and retreat into ourselves”. So three months out of the year were dedicated to studying the Dharma in a quieter, self-led contemplative state. 

Plum Village upholds this tradition. The three-month period seasonally-adjusted to fit with the beginning of winter in France. Physical boundaries are placed around the Monastery, and walking loops are drawn. Everything is thoughtfully scheduled to allow your mind to rest and expand. Emphasis is placed on tending to yourself and taking time to harmonize with the community.  

If, after these 90-days, the community feel like you am a good fit (and vice versa), you spend the rest of the year cultivating the land, and together with the Plum Village brothers (monks) and sister (nuns), host retreats, experience weeks, guided tours, and workshops. As a women, I live in Lower Hamlet with the sisters. There are about 46 nuns participating in the retreat, and 14 of us “lay-women”.

I’ve only been here four days and can already feel things within myself shifting. 

I’ve started writing a journal dedicated to my future child. The idea just came into my mind early one morning. Something about recording and handing over this time to them feels inexplicably right. They are, in some way, a future self, a wise, younger, older, also seeking self. And the reasons I’m choosing to take this time in my life to dive deep within, is not just for my well-being, but it’s for those who came before (who made this moment possible), and those ahead.  It’s for the people I loved, love, and will love. For those my words touch once or every day. 

So I suppose I’m doing it for everyone. 

I want my future child to know that to be a ‘seeker’ is to accept a hunger withing yourself – a constant gnawing that, if ignored, will amass to a resounded roar no one can ignore. I wish for them not to hear this noise as something to shiver or shy away from, but dance to. I want to remind them it’s a gift. And this “seeking” is a state, not a place or circumstances. It looks different for everyone. I want them to take the time to go ‘all-in’ – in whatever form them choose. To let go of all knowns, and accept submission of the unknown. 

 In letting go, so much will be found. Pain that needs tending to. Untouched passions. My voice. But perhaps most significantly, studying the mind, my mind, will help me to be present for life. Everything will be deeper. Richer. More vibrant. My capacity to understand the realms of consciousness within myself will be surpassed. The mind will be a tool, not a jungle to get lost in. 

I discovered my aspiration for this retreat while writing to my future child. I noticed I completely changed how I write and what I choose to write about. My tone of voice is so much kinder, gentler, forgiving, when I dedicate the words to them than to myself. 

“To find peace within and with oneself”.

I sat and walked with that for a bit. And then I realized what I’m after is a bit more refined. Because I do in fact feel peaceful about many things, it just never sticks around for a long period of time. 

I want to build a beautiful home in my body. A peaceful home – one that I can come back to and rest in, a place that is warm and loving. It’s been a battleground for much to long. I’ve forgotten how to listen – or I’ve become so tolerant to pain and discomfort. I’ve gone through periods of complete starvation and abuse while prescribing to standards that are shallow, hollow, yet slippery dark holes.

It’s time to heal. Time to rebuild – and perhaps it will be a stronger, more soundly-built home than ever before. 

That’s how ‘peace’ will come. 

I have to create a space for it to nestle into. 

I’ve decided too, at least for these first three months, to cocoon myself from the World and retreat within. I turned off my cell phone, cut my line, and have no source of Wi-Fi. It feels strange, but right. Because if not now, when? If this isn’t an ideal time to dive fully into myself (touch depths, sources of pain, spaces of love and peace), I’m not sure another time as proper will come.

I really don’t know what’s ahead, but that’s the beautiful part of it all. It will be what it will be. I trust the future Kate, a wiser, more grounded self, to tend to what comes next. So for now, I’ll tend to her.

With Love,

Kate