A Reflection

Moving Through Endings and Beginnings (with Compassion)

by Teresa Miller

 Last summer when I was visiting Toronto with my husband and granddaughter, we traveled around the city using the subway. At each station we were intrigued by triangle-shaped signs with three words: Mind the gap. We were to pay attention to the spatial gap at our feet between the edge of the station platform and the train doorway. Mind the gap meant slow down, take notice while crossing the open space between this and that.

Mind the gap. What if we used this phrase to notice the gaps between?

…between the in-breath and out-breath, between one feeling state and the next, between the ending and the beginning of particular sensations in the body, between the end of one thought and the beginning of the next one.

If we examine our experience closely, we discover that we’re always in transition – at the end of one thing and before the beginning of the next – a “between” time. During every moment of our lives, something is ending, and something else is beginning. And in between is a knowable gap – between an ending and the next beginning.

The between time may be large and life-changing, like the ending of a long relationship, the death of a loved one or a beloved pet or companion, the space between the end of one job and the beginning of the next one.

As much as we might try to resist, endings happen in every moment—the end of a breath, the end of a day, the end of a relationship, and ultimately the end of life.

And accompanying each ending is a beginning, though it may be unclear, at times eve unfathomable, what the beginning holds for us.

The gap – the between time – is like a crossroads; it’s neither here nor there, neither this or that – simply an open space. Naturally, the gap (like endings) induces uncertainty. The not knowing feels groundless; it can bring anxiety, especially when the ending is large, life-changing. We want some control, some predictability, and we loved what was. Because there’s comfort in what’s familiar. And fear of letting go into what’s not known.

At times we protect ourselves too long; we freeze by clinging tightly to memory of what’s past so we won’t feel pain. And that protection becomes like armor, a sheathing that imprisons the softness of the heart.

Our practice is to mind the gap, to keep calmly knowing change. To pause and see the gap -between the death of one state of mind and the birth of another – is to let go, to give room for compassion to arise. To relax and remember our own goodness, to be curious and “wander into the circle of wonder.”

The more curiosity and compassion we can find in our hearts and minds, the more fearlessly we can greet impermanence. We can see endings and beginnings and the gaps between as ‘the natural choreography of life’.

A Reflection

By Susan Stone, Ph.D.

 An era has come to an end. The UVA Mindfulness Center will no longer offer MBSR or other courses to members of the greater Charlottesville community. While this is a small change in the context of the tsunami of changes that are engulfing us these days, it is meaningful and deserves to be honored. It is meaningful because even one person’s opening into mindful awareness is significant: It is a movement toward the fulfilment of one’s human potential. During the 30 years the Mindfulness Center has been in existence, hundreds of people from the Charlottesville area have experienced such openings through the practice of MBSR and other mindfulness courses. I had the privilege of teaching at the Mindfulness Center for 17 of those years before I retired in 2020, after the start of Covid and the launching of our first online MBSR course.

It was indeed a privilege to offer these potent teachings and a joy to watch as students first “got it” and then deepened in mindfulness over the 8-week course. Some students called MBSR “the gift of a lifetime.” There was invariably a progression from the first week when, at the start of class, students sat around silently eyeing each other, uncertain what was coming next, to the second or third class when bonds of trust were established and deep sharing occurred. Classroom conversations were honest, delightful, and sometimes funny. A story that stands out for me was a comment by a student who suffered from anxiety and chronic insomnia. One day during the course, I happened to see her in town and we chatted. The next week, she told the class about our meeting and said my voice made her sleepy. Nowhere except in an MBSR class would this be understood as a compliment.

We all have heard about, and probably have experienced, stress in the workplace. This wasn’t my experience at the Mindfulness Center. Of course there were ups and downs as is inevitable in any human interactions, but relations among us, both under the leadership of Allie Rudolph and then John Schorling, were kind, considerate, and filled with compassion. In short, we practiced the mindfulness values that we preached. My memories of those years are sweet. So in conclusion I thank my colleagues at the Mindfulness Center over the years—John, Allie, Teresa, Matt, Cawood, David, Harriet, Susannah, Karen, and Jennifer. And I thank the students of MBSR who allowed me to be part of their life.

 A Reflection

by Matt Goodman

I have been teaching classes through the mindfulness center since 1996. It has been and continues to be a pleasure and a privilege. For the past 20 years or so, I have focused on working with healthcare providers. These service minded professionals are often afflicted by the stress that accompanies working with people in distress, and by the perfectionist traits shared by so many of us. Practicing mindfulness together can be liberating. Our focus is often on learning to quiet self-critical inner voices, on learning self-compassion. I am grateful to have shared this journey with so many, to have learned their stories, strengths and challenges. We have taught each other how to be kinder to ourselves and others, to suffer less and to appreciate more. I am also grateful to my teachers, mentors and colleagues in this work. I am a better and happier person for having travelled this path with you.

Blessings.

A Reflection

By Cawood Fitzhugh

When I began my own mindfulness journey, I was looking for a way out of what felt like some impossible and uncontrollable situations.  With the chronicity of these situations, I felt discouraged and realized my baseline of joy had shifted to one of sadness and fatigue.  The harder I tried, the less I was able to change the circumstances.  It felt exhausting.  It was exhausting.

When I came to UVA, I attended a one day retreat led by Jon Kabat Zinn.  He had all of us on the floor, doing yoga and then laying down on mats doing what’s known as a body scan meditation.  I remember tearing up and silently feeling the tears flow down both sides of my cheeks.  There was so much I discovered in my life in that one simple moment.   I wanted more and this led me to investing time and diligence into becoming a facilitator.

It’s been a true privilege to come alongside each of you these last 15 years, to support one another in kind ways and to help alleviate suffering through creating a kinder community. I’ve learned so much from all of you and I want to take this moment to say thank you.   May you be well!

Gratitude

By John Schorling

I would like to take this opportunity to acknowledge and thank the many people who have taught through and supported the Mindfulness Center, which would not have existed without their efforts.  Teachers have included Allie Rudolph, Maria Tussi Kluge, Matt Goodman, Susan Stone, Teresa Miller, Cawood Fitzhugh, David Silver, Barbara Maille, Sam Green, Susanna Williams and Gail Todter.  During the time I have been Director, it has been wholeheartedly supported by my Division Chiefs, Peggy Plews-Ogan and Mo Nadkarni, as well as our Division Administrator Cyndi Smith.  We have had four highly capable Center administrators who have kept everything running and have provided support for course participants: Jennifer Kaisoum, Kristy Harvey, Karen Dyer, and most recently and most enthusiastically, Harriet Whiting, and she will be greatly missed.

The Mindfulness Center has also been generously supported financially by the Maria T. Kluge Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction and Relaxation Program Fund.  This fund has provided general support for the Center, and has been especially instrumental in allowing us to offer reduced fees and scholarships for all our courses.  The Fund will continue to support our programs in the Health System in the future.

To all of you, as well as the many others who I have not individually named, I am eternally grateful for your past and ongoing support which has enabled us to bring the gift of mindfulness to so many.

May you be happy, may you be healthy, may you be safe from inner and outer harm, may you live with life with joy and ease.