Mindfulness and Mr. Rogers

By Jonathan S. Kaplan, Ph.D.

To UM readers, I hope that you'll excuse my unannounced hiatus from blogging.  For the past few months, I have been prioritizing other pursuits:  reading (vs. writing), listening (vs. speaking), parenting (vs. working), and being (vs. doing).  This has proven to be a very helpful and enriching practice.

The stillness that accompanies mindfulness practice allows for the natural arising of many things:  emotions, thoughts, physical sensations, and particular human qualities.  In particular, I've taken notice of the ways in which compassion surfaces as a way of considering and treating others.  There are some meditations that specifically cultivate compassion (such as metta meditation within Theravada Buddhism) and psychotherapies that promote its expression as well (e.g., naikan therapy and compassion-focused therapy).  It also becomes present for us when we allow ourselves to see the inherent sufferings and joys in the world, less mediated by our own psychological baggage.  We care genuinely for others, and are more prone to ask "Are you okay?" or "How can I help?" as opposed to "What's wrong with you?!"

Interestingly, I've seen this same kindness being expressed naturally in young children as they play with each other.  This observation prompted me to recall an anecdote from Fred Rogers (Mister Roberts to you and me), delivered as part of a commencement address a year before he died.  I've saved the New York Times clipping of this story for almost a decade now, and I'm happy to share it with you (it's mid-way down the page):  Mr. Rogers on compassion.  I hope you like it.

Mindfulness in Times Square? On New Year's Eve?

By Susan Vitti, Ph.D.

I have lived in New York all my life. Whether in the city itself, or an outlying suburb, I’ve felt deeply woven into the fabric of the city. I’ve lived here, worked here, fallen in love here, shopped here and generally been a part of the groove, hubbub, bustle and clamor. I am in fact, in love with this city. I go to the Brooklyn side of the bridge just to see the whole of it sparkling on the river at night. I ride the NY Water Way Taxi in summer just to see the skyline from the harbor. So, I understand why anyone would be drawn to it but what I’ve never understood is the desire to huddle up in Times Square on New Year’s Eve. No way, no how am I ever going to do it. So, in putting together some thoughts for this post the question entered my mind again. Why would anyone do it?! I’ve come up with innumerable reasons, none of which really satisfied as evidenced by the fact that I’m still asking.

In thinking about this again, though, I realized I’ve been asking the wrong question all along. I’ve missed the essence of what is really going on. What is significant is not where people gather but why. Why do we choose to gather together to mark the ending of one year and the beginning of a new one? What draws us to each other during this point in time? Maybe it’s the inescapable feeling of being on the precipice of both an ending and a beginning. It’s a time that seems to inevitably connect us to the polarities of existence; both the joys and the sorrows. Whether we gather in Times Square, a friend’s apartment, a restaurant or some quiet corner with our television tuned in, we gather together and in doing so we share this reality.

The holiday season, culminating in New Year’s Eve can be a time of celebrations and gatherings with friends and family. It’s a time we can easily ride the crest of the holiday wave and let ourselves be swept along to this final point in the year. We eagerly gallop towards one more celebration, one more party, one more event before the final page of the old year is turned and new one is begun. The emotional tenor this time of year, this week in particular and this day, the final day, is often one of revelry and mirth.

Alternately, the New Year is also a time-marker. Robert Frost referred to time as ‘the luminary clock against the sky” in his poem, Acquainted with the Night. The holiday season, the turning of the year and the passage of time, so concretely marked, can also bring with it awareness and realization of loss, times gone by, loved ones that have passed or difficult moments endured during the previous year. Life has a way of involving us in both aspects; the joys and the sorrows, the losses and the gains, the highs and the lows. Whether we acknowledge it or not, whether we can accept it or not, we all come to encounter all aspects of being human. If we can manage to stay mindful and in the moment, we may be lucky enough to see that in this regard, we are all connected to each other. In this regard, “we are all more human than otherwise” (American psychiatrist, Harry Stack Sullivan) .

It is, perhaps, in this realization, whether articulated or just beneath our awareness, that we feel the need to be with each other. It is at this pivotal moment in time, the turning of the year, as we watch our city’s luminary clock against the sky, that ball of lights dropping in Times Square, that we have some sense of our connectedness, our oneness with ourselves, each other and with the infinite. Perhaps we find it somehow comforting to gather together in this acknowledgement.

(Photo provided by UB1/Bill Larkin)

Psychotherapy and Buddhism

Submitted by Jonathan Kaplan, Ph.D.

I'll be co-teaching a 6-week series of classes with Shastri Ethan Nichtern at the Interdependence Project, starting in January.  Specifically, I'll be teaching about various schools of psychotherapy (e.g., psychoanalysis, CBT, ACT, positive psychology, etc.), and he'll be discussing how they compare with Buddhist teachings on health and well-being.  For more information, please follow this link:  East meets West.

Relax, City Dwellers! It's Summer!

By Jennifer Egert, Ph.D.

Like many of us, I have a love-hate relationship with the city. For much of the year, it seems like a lot of effort goes out just to manage the noise, crowds, and challenges city life presents. It is hard to be mindful in the midst of a lot of tension. Tension (mental, physical, emotional) distracts us and depletes us of energy. Funny thing about making the effort to be mindful, it requires relaxation to open to the experience in front of you. But somehow, every year, things seem to transform after Memorial Day weekend…

I love the city in the summer. When everyone is packing up the cars, getting on the bus or running to the train to escape the concrete canyon for a weekend away, that is my cue to stay put.

You can get tickets for any movie at any time in the summer. No problem with a table at a restaurant or a stool at the bar. There are seats on the subway, and space to breathe on the sidewalks. Let’s not forget the obscene abundance of parking spaces and decreased traffic. But the best part of the summer in the city for me is the free events and art... music at Prospect Park, Summer Stage or the central park drum circle, midsummer night swing, free movies on the piers, ping-pong in Bryant Park, art shows, crafts fairs, cultural celebrations and the public art installations around the city. These are the things that help me to take notice, pay attention, and relax just a little bit and experience city life a bit more fully.

The other day, walking to the train from work, I was reminded of this when I stopped in my tracks on 23rd street. Someone was standing on top of a building at Broadway, right on the edge about 15 stories up. I got a bit scared. He was standing so still. I wondered if he was contemplating jumping or just meditating! Around me, no one else seemed be concerned. But then I noticed a couple of tourists looking up at another building, where there was an identical man, standing, watching over Madison Square Park. And then I see there was another, and another, and another. Have you seen them? An art installation of Antony Gormley’s “Event Horizon.” They look so present, so peaceful, mindful warriors overseeing the city. The unexpected gems of city life, such as this art installation, always manage to make me stop, get out of my head and connect to the joy of city life.

I thought that we could share some of our favorite summer experiences here on Urban Mindfulness, to help us all find new ways to relax into city life and enjoy the ride with a bit more presence. Please share any special “stop you in your tracks” moments you’ve had lately. Enjoy the summer!

For info about public art in the city and summer events see:

http://www.nycgovparks.org/art

http://www.nycgovparks.org/events/

http://www.publicartfund.org/

There's Still Some Good in this World

By Jonathan Kaplan, Ph.D.

Feeling tired, I was headed home after a long day at work.  On the subway platform, I waited and watched as all kinds of trains passed by--all except the one that I needed.  Even the garbage train honked noisily through the station.  My train was nowhere in sight. 

After enduring a seemingly unending period of time (like doing zazen with an itchy nose), my train finally rumbled to a stop in front of me.  Many others had been waiting with me, so we all crammed ourselves into the crowded car.  Collectively, we seemed tired, defeated, and worn out.  Just as the doors were about to close, a woman jumped into the doorway.  "Someone dropped their keys!" she pronounced.  Several of us looked up to notice a jumble of keys in her outstretched hand.  No one responded.  "Someone dropped their keys!" she stated again.  More people started to look at her, while some started checking their pockets. 

"Stand clear of the closing doors, please" chimed the automated announcement. 

We continued to look at her.  "What's she going to do?" I wondered. The doors closed shut, and she shoved them open.  "I have your keys!" she yelled.  "Check to make sure you have your keys!"

"Don't hold the doors!  Step out of the doorway!" boomed the conductor. 

Suddenly, a young girl ran towards the door and gratefully grabbed them.  "Thank you!" she gushed.  The other woman pulled her arm out of the doorway as the doors snapped shut.  The train began to move. 

As I reflected on what happened and smiled at the obviously embarrassed girl, I noticed an old man leaning towards a young woman next to him.  "Just when you start to give up hope," he said, "you notice that there's still some good in the world."  Indeed.