"We believe that happiness is possible only in the future. That is why the practice "I have arrived" is very important. The realization that we have already arrived, that we don't have to travel any further, that we are already here, can give us peace and joy. The conditions for our happiness are already sufficient. We only need to allow ourselves to be in the present moment, and we will be able to touch them." - Ticht Nhat Hahn.
For the past two weeks, I have begun each morning with a meditation. There has been a significant bump in my quality of life. After waking up and getting ready, I sit on my bed and take a couple deep breaths. Then I read a short passage in Ticht Nhat Hahn's "Your True Home" (thank you, Scott Hugo!). The book has 365 meditations, one for each day of the year. I try to read each word intentionally, sometimes going through the paragraph a few times. Then I dedicate my day to that meditation. Right before bed, I read it one more time, reflecting on how well I was able to incorporate the teaching into my life.
It takes maybe five minutes a day?
Since getting back to Asheville, I have tried to live every day in the present (something I didn't do well in Boston at all). I attempt to take each day as a gift. This specific meditation above really resonated with me; it was one of my early ones, and I actually spent two days on it. The thought that "happiness is possible only in the future" is something that is very prevalent in physician-training. It starts early. I will be happy once I get into the right college, into the right medical school, into the right residency, once I get OUT of residency, once I'm an attending, once I get this or that position. It is difficult to break the cycle. I have to give a conscious effort each day to just live in the here-and-now. It is amazing that amount of crap that we are willing to put up with to be happy (later). And the cycle continues.
In the here-and-now, every patient is a gift. Every person I have the opportunity to see I need to completely immerse myself in their life. For some, this has meant just being a good listener. I recently had a patient who was admitted for chronic pain control. She has many other medical issues, but just sitting there for 30 minutes and listening was the best care that I could give. In a year, I may be able to offer more. But patients don't come to the hospital because it's fun. Everyone is in need, and it is a privilege to figure out exactly what that need is.
I'm feeling very Zen today. It's a good, calming feeling - to know that we have already arrived.
For the past two weeks, I have begun each morning with a meditation. There has been a significant bump in my quality of life. After waking up and getting ready, I sit on my bed and take a couple deep breaths. Then I read a short passage in Ticht Nhat Hahn's "Your True Home" (thank you, Scott Hugo!). The book has 365 meditations, one for each day of the year. I try to read each word intentionally, sometimes going through the paragraph a few times. Then I dedicate my day to that meditation. Right before bed, I read it one more time, reflecting on how well I was able to incorporate the teaching into my life.
It takes maybe five minutes a day?
Since getting back to Asheville, I have tried to live every day in the present (something I didn't do well in Boston at all). I attempt to take each day as a gift. This specific meditation above really resonated with me; it was one of my early ones, and I actually spent two days on it. The thought that "happiness is possible only in the future" is something that is very prevalent in physician-training. It starts early. I will be happy once I get into the right college, into the right medical school, into the right residency, once I get OUT of residency, once I'm an attending, once I get this or that position. It is difficult to break the cycle. I have to give a conscious effort each day to just live in the here-and-now. It is amazing that amount of crap that we are willing to put up with to be happy (later). And the cycle continues.
In the here-and-now, every patient is a gift. Every person I have the opportunity to see I need to completely immerse myself in their life. For some, this has meant just being a good listener. I recently had a patient who was admitted for chronic pain control. She has many other medical issues, but just sitting there for 30 minutes and listening was the best care that I could give. In a year, I may be able to offer more. But patients don't come to the hospital because it's fun. Everyone is in need, and it is a privilege to figure out exactly what that need is.
I'm feeling very Zen today. It's a good, calming feeling - to know that we have already arrived.

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