Meditation and the Joy of a Colonoscopy

Meditation and the Joy of a Colonoscopy

It could be argued that it was just stubbornness. My husband, certainly, might put chips down in that camp. I’ll go to my grave asserting that it was something else altogether that had me inquire about whether having my colonoscopy without sedation was an option. 

It’s noteworthy to me that it wasn’t listed as a possibility — in the literature before the proceedings or at the hospital. Nurses, after I checked in, told me about how the sedation would work, without asking if I would be choosing it. 

When I inquired about my desire to forgo if possible, eyebrows raised. I was told I “could choose not to have drugs, but…” with sentences trailing off into silence. It’s as though if words had been spoken they’d be along the lines of, “but why would someone have their wisdom teeth removed just for fun?”

I persisted with my inquiry. I overheard nurses whispering to other nurses. The doctor was called in. I was surprised when he relayed that he had forgone sedation for his colonoscopy. (I later learned that while less than 1% of his patience experience colonoscopies in this way, in Europe and Asia it is more common.) There’s a lesson in this. 

We are deeply conditioned to avoid pain. So much so that, in many cases, it doesn’t occur to us that we need not resist it. In my experience, this is one of the gifts of mediation practice. In learning to be with what is, we are freed to surrender to our experience. Life force is freed to move somewhere other than the conditioned habit of constriction, resistance, and avoidance. Fear is dethroned. 

It might sound shiny and glossy when I say it this way. Practice, certainly, seldom feels shiny and glossy. There is no grand soundtrack in the backdrop of actually practicing being with discomfort. And, in the grit of it, there certainly is reward. It’s not the reward of comfort, it’s the reward of freedom. 

I’d be lying if I said going through a colonoscopy without any drugs was comfortable. I’d also be lying if I said that it wasn’t, on some level, a glorious experience. Strange right? Did I just use the word glorious in the same sentence as colonoscopy? Am I mad?

One of the benefits of trusting that practice has given you the tools you need to wholeheartedly be with your experience, whether comfortable or not, is feeling the attention freed to explore rather than resist.  Should it be the case that you have not had the opportunity to see the inside of your intestines and colon, I can assure you that it is profoundly beautiful territory for exploration. 

In practice we talk about meeting our experience, rather than with judgment, with curiosity and gentle inquiry. Often we might apply this to our emotional life. In this case, it was physical. In the end, there is no difference between the two. Both are comprised of the same consciousness. Both are known by the same consciousness. Emotions and the body, arising in the same consciousness. Made of the same consciousness. Known by the same consciousness. 

Watching a screen with a real-time view of the exploration, while getting to speak with the nurse who was holding my abdomen to assist with the discomfort, another nurse who was monitoring my heart-rate and oxygen intake, as well as the doctor who led the journey, was a joy. Every turn of the intestines opened to new territory. Seeing the insides of my small intestine was an experience that moved me to tears. I imagine it will stay with me as long as I live.

In practice we talk about non-separateness all the time. In the end, what matters most is the direct experience of it. 

Our bodies are oceans. Inside the small intestines live sea anemone. Perfectly rooted. Flowing bodies. Translucent. In actuality just larger than a hair, though on the scope, magnified. Absorbing nutrients. Alive. While a doctor might refer to simple columnar epithelium, I saw them as sea anemone. Serving their perfect function, perfectly, in the body of water we call ‘body.’ 

We miss such opportunities when we fall for the conditioning that implies that our top priority should be to avoid anything unpleasant. 

And, just for the record, this is not to suggest that choosing sedation is ‘just conditioning’ or somehow ‘wrong’ or ‘bad.’ I’m simply underlining that in following our conditioned tendency to avoid discomfort in life, we often miss much along the way. Like, for example, the magical viewing of the small intestines. 

(By the way, for those of you who won’t be choosing to be awake for the viewing of your small intestine, here’s a fifteen second animation that you might enjoy instead.)

Choosing to be with discomfort is not the ‘right’ thing to do and it’s not heroic. It’s simply available to us, through the tools of practice, should we wish to be present for all aspects of our existence. Should we wish to be wholeheartedly with our experience, rather than move through our lives avoiding or resisting it. 

It’s about opening ourselves to the sea of the body, the sea of the world, and the sea of our experience, should we wish to. Should we wish to experience the joy available in the direct experience of wonder and awe. This is available to us in every moment. In every moment, we can choose not to miss this. We can choose presence over fear. 

Celebrating Interdependence

Celebrating Interdependence

"If you focus on interdependence rather than independence it is easier to experience love." —Caverly

 

Dear Friend,

On a day in which there’s a strong focus on independence, I offer a loving reminder that it’s possible, instead, to focus on interdependence. To give your attention to our interrelatedness. To our connection. Today, may we remember to turn to love. 

During such divided times, I’ve been focusing on what it means to be a stand for the alternative. My friend and colleague Angel Kyodo Williams was recently interviewed in the CBS special "Beyond Tolerance." I appreciate her work on this front and this 30-minute feature feature is worth watching:

Last week I had the honor of officiating a friend's wedding that was special to me. I'm grateful to live in a time in which two women—or two people of any gender—can marry each other with the legal support of our state and nation. 

This was a hard won battle. There’s much more work to do. May our next step be to focus on interdependence as we give our attention to what lies ahead. May we give our attention to love. 

In Peace,

Caverly

P.S. I invite you to join me on our summer retreat in California from August 1-6. There are only a few spots left.


"Dominator culture has tried to keep us all afraid, to make us choose safety instead of risk, sameness instead of diversity. Moving through that fear, finding out what connects us, revelling in our differences; this is the process that brings us closer, that gives us a world of shared values, of meaningful community.”
—Bell Hooks

Paulus Berensohn: Life And Death In Love

Paulus Berensohn: Life And Death In Love

Paulus Berensohn: Life And Death In Love

by Caverly Morgan

Photographs: Marthanna Yater

Photographs: Marthanna Yater

I met Paulus Berensohn when I was 16 years old. Knowing him changed the course of my life. I am far from the only person who can say that. 

After a recent stroke and transition to hospice, I flew to North Carolina to be of service.  The next ten days were some of the most profound of my life. 

A letter (slightly adapted) written from those of us who were supporting him to the Penland community:

Dear Friends,

At the time of Paulus’ leaving for the next chapter, as per his wishes, his body will be returned to his home at Penland for a 72 hour period of laying in stillness and presence. Much of the ritual that will take place comes from the Buddhist tradition. 

In this tradition, the understanding is that consciousness often leaves the body in stages — one stage being at the moment of the last breath. Often the body requires some time to accomplish this passage in peace and the transition can be greatly aided by the attention of those who love him. Ruth Ostrenga, of The Center for End of Life Transitions, and Caverly Morgan, will be facilitating this transition process. The community is welcomed to participate, and, for those who might be new to this process, we wanted to share more about the intention of this time. 

It is not a public viewing. The house will be a holding space, a vessel. A space for listening and for being present to the work that Paulus will be doing as he completes his transition. Visitors to the house are asked to come in service of supporting his transition by offering presence. Guests will be invited to join for meditation. 

That said, do not feel discouraged to participate if you do not have a formal meditation practice. Paulus has never had a formal meditation practice! Come to sit quietly, to listen, to be still, and/or to engage in the contemplative practice of your choice. (The body is preserved with dry ice during this period.)

Each day of the in-state transition period at Paulus’ house, anyone who would like to accompany Paulus on this stage of the journey is invited to come to sit with him. When the consciousness has been fully released from the body, the body will be taken to the green burial site that Paulus chose — The Carolina Memorial Sanctuary, where he'll be carried to the grave. 

With Love,
The Transition Team 

And here is what I read at Paulus's graveside:

Paulus offered us many things during his life — through what he taught, and, through lived example. Some lesson themes: slow and savor. Listen. Be curious. Wonder and explore with an open heart. Dance with life. These weren't merely philosophical beliefs. For Paulus, such lessons were his direct lived experience. And he offered that experience freely to others. Touching countless beings. 

I, along with many others, had the great honor and privilege to be with Paulus intimately during the last week of his life. I thought others would appreciate knowing that he moved towards death just as he moved through life. Truly, miraculously so. 

During Paulus's transition he couldn't speak, yet was not only completely aware, he freely shared his exploration with all who entered the room. Blessing us. 

For days, in countless moments, his left arm danced through the air. Rising and falling with grace and specificity. A visual melody. Tracing the choreography of his journey. Was it Qigong? Was it dance? Communication with ancestors? We knew not. But we didn't need to know. It was purposeful, communicative, and deeply lovely. 
 
I will forever be moved by the lack of resistance he displayed as he explored various realms of consciousness with ease and grace. He taught us, even from his death bed, without words. He taught us about patience. About acceptance. Paulus taught us about love. 

When moving through life, Paulus left no stone unturned — bringing curiosity and inquiry to his experience was his way. As he moved towards death, it continued to be so. He took his time. He listened. He opened towards, rather than shirked away. 

Since Paulus's last breath, my sense is that as he continues to explore, he's delighting in the opportunity to be in more than one place at a time. No longer limited to the body, he's free to be here — and everywhere. This grand opening allows him to continue reaching, teaching and serving others, shining in his direct experience of being inseparable from all of life. 

And that is yet another gift from Paulus -- the teaching that we are here and everywhere. We simply forget that because we identify so strongly with our perception of the body. 

Form, no different from emptiness. Emptiness, no different from form. All of it, consciousness. 

Of course we will all miss the colors of Paulus. His particular, special, form. His vessel. Now, colorless, formless, he is still here however. We can find him in our hearts, which is where he's been all along. 

Besides, Paulus knew that every great pot was made in celebration of life — with the ultimate purpose to return to the earth. To die. To rest in the ground from which we all spring. The fertile ground -- the soil for love that has yet to take form. 

Paulus, thank you. Thank you for being Love! May all beings benefit!

Paulus wanted his end-of-life story to be shared and for people to know about conscious and alternative ways of approaching death, in particular, green burials. Learn more about the Center for End of Life Transitions.

 

PAULUS'S END-OF-LIFE PHOTOGRAPHS BY DAN BAILEY

[Second photo by Caverly Morgan; third photo by Marthanna Yater]


IMAGES OF PAULUS'S LIFE

Photograph: Marthanna Yater

Photograph: Marthanna Yater

Photograph: Marthanna Yatter

Photograph: Marthanna Yatter

 
 
 
 
Photograph: Marthanna Yatter

Photograph: Marthanna Yatter