ph. @steink_74
In these last days spent in Italy, I had the great fortune and honor of meeting Lama Michel (http://kunpen.ngalso.org) and listening to some of his teachings. Simple, yet precious. Reflections on the present, on meditation, on gratitude. Absorbing those words like water was truly nourishing.
When I decided to deepen my studies—to give shape, formality, and professionalism to something I had long considered a personal attitude—I knew I had to be ready for a journey within myself.
How can you help others if you’re not open to receiving yourself? I used to ask myself. For many, giving is easier than receiving.
Does receiving challenge us? Perhaps it makes us feel vulnerable, needy, insecure?
Ah! If only we could see how fragile we are behind our armor of “self-sufficiency.”
To receive is just as important as to give. Think about how much joy we allow someone to experience when we let them give us their time, their love, what we need.
Is it possible that sometimes we refuse to receive simply out of fear that we won’t be able to “repay” it?
Ah! How costly gratitude seems today.
When was the last time you asked for something?
And the last time you received?
This past year, I’ve been practicing my ability to ask. A true challenge. But the feedback I received became a teaching I now recognize. I allowed others to give. I allowed myself to receive.
We are not self-sufficient—and to those who try to make us believe otherwise, we should gently remind them that we are social animals, here to live, rejoice, and continue thriving together.
Let’s aim to be our own best companions—because we’ll spend the rest of our lives with ourselves—but let’s also open up to others. Without fear, but with the awareness that exchange is enrichment.
In a world increasingly interconnected yet full of lonely human beings, let’s return to preferring silence over noise, hugs over likes, phone calls over voice messages.
Let’s nourish and be nourished by our relationships. Let’s start with ourselves, so we can be an example for our children, for our youth.
This interconnected solitude—faced with screens, in the emptiness of their rooms—is slipping away from us. It wounds us. It leaves us stunned. But the responsibility is ours.
Let’s reclaim the responsibility of being in the world—of the social roles we choose to embody, of living, of rejoicing, of teaching, of making mistakes.
Responsibility is not guilt. I’ve always had affection for my responsibilities. I’ve worn them like medals.
What’s the worst that could happen by living responsibly?
Responsibility isn’t a burden. It’s courage. It’s contagious.
How beautiful can it be to take responsibility for our own emotions?
I am responsible for my own happiness.
What does that mean?
It means I choose to be happy every day, I train myself to be, because it depends on me.
Training happiness makes my mind stronger, more aware of how much my moods depend on me.
I take responsibility for them.
How powerful could this message be for our children?
Start with yourself.
Take responsibility.
With it, courage will come. And with courage, strength.
You’ll be an example.
My father used to say: “Words may ring, but example thunders.”
That could be a parenting mantra!
Before demanding anything of others, let’s take responsibility.
We’ll be too busy doing that to waste time pointing fingers.
I deeply believe that responsibility sets us free.
I’ll close by sharing a small but profound teaching—a meditation on gratitude.
How do you meditate on gratitude for whales?
If I told you to meditate on gratitude for whales, you might think, okay, they’re nice, intelligent mammals whose lives we sadly make difficult—but how can I feel gratitude for them?
But what if I told you that half of the world’s oxygen is produced by oceans through seaweed and phytoplankton—and that the first and most important fertilizer for surface algae is… whale poop!?
Now, can you feel gratitude for whales—whose prosperity is directly connected to your breath?
I’m sure you can.
Try it.
Take responsibility for your mental well-being and start meditating. You and the whales.
This little story I just told you is a small trick to help you find a path into meditation.
And once again, I thank Lama Michel for having inspired it.
g.l.