TLDR: Does it suck when our help is rejected even though we know we can REALLY help the person? Frustration often sets in. How can we approach helping others who don’t want our care? We discuss Dhamma principles of Equanimity, Metta, Mindfulness as a guide.
Caring for those who don’t wish for us to care for them can be a difficult task – and it’s one that can be emotionally draining. This is especially true when it comes to family members, friends, or other loved ones.
We want to help them and be there for them, but it can feel like a losing battle if they don’t want our help. As Buddhists, we can lean on the Buddha’s teachings of equanimity, loving-kindness, and mindfulness to help us in such situations. These are 3 qualities I found helpful in such situations.
Equanimity: It is not about you
It feels awful when we can’t help someone in need. This is especially so if they are our loved ones. However, being there does not always mean being in their face and offering 24/7 support but it also sometimes means giving space and silence.
We try our best to help and if rejection faces us, we take that rejection calmly and not with resentment.
We have to accept that their feelings and wishes are valid, even if we disagree with them. (Who knows, they might figure things out faster without our help!)
I’ve personally experienced this with a family member. She was going through a breakup and I wanted to be there for her, but she resisted my attempts to help.
I didn’t give up, though. I respected her wishes and continued to show her love and support in different manners. This included sending check-in texts and asking her out for a meal without talking at all about the topic. Understanding that my role was to care and listen and not ‘solve’ her heartbreak encouraged me to support her without any expectations.
It was during this process of rejection, that I applied equanimity, the balance of mind regardless of the outcome. I was learning to be content with the causes I have placed effort into. If she didn’t wish to accept my help and felt worse, I knew that I tried my best.
Ajahn Chah talked about planting seeds which I found apt in my experience.
“If you plant a seedling in one place, then after three days pull it up and plant it in another place, then after three more days, pull it up again and plant it somewhere else, it will just die and not grow up and bear fruit.”
In our desperation to ‘solve’ and ‘help’ we may end up hurting the person more.
Interestingly, I found that I placed too much self-importance on myself ‘solving’ her problems. In fact, it was my opening up to her other close friend that helped my sister face her emotions and challenges.
In equanimity, I was able to see that I need not be the ‘solver’ of all my loved ones’ problems. Even I needed support to help others.
Loving-kindness: Be well and happy but not because of me
The Buddhist teaching of metta, or loving-kindness, is also a great way to care for those who don’t wish for us to care for them.
Metta is a practice of sending loving thoughts and energy to others, even those who may be resistant to our care. It’s a practice of unconditional love, that doesn’t require any expectation of reciprocity.
We don’t expect anything in return – we simply love and support unconditionally. I’ve also used this practice with a friend struggling with depression.
She was resistant to my attempts to help, but I continued to show her love and support through metta. I sent her thoughts of love and compassion, even when she didn’t want me to show up physically. She eventually figured her way through depression without me interfering much with the process.
This made me reflect that the metta wish of ‘may all beings be well and happy’ didn’t have a disclaimer that said ‘be well and happy because of me’. Dropping the ‘me’ from helping others was a gentle realisation for myself. I need not always be the one who helps others out of a rut.
Coincidentally, practising metta meditation on her own was one of the key ways she opened up the light in herself in her darkest moments.
Mindfulness: Honest reflections
Finally, the Buddhist practice of mindfulness can also be beneficial when it comes to caring for those who don’t wish for us to care for them.
Mindfulness is the practice of being present and aware of our thoughts and feelings, without judgment or expectation.
It’s a way of being compassionate and understanding towards ourselves, as well as towards those around us. When we practice mindfulness, we can be more accepting of others’ feelings and wishes, even if we don’t agree with them.
Mindfulness enables us to have an honest conversation with ourselves by answering “Am I doing this because I have something to prove? Am I doing this because this person’s actions are just NOT RIGHT according to my beliefs/value system?” These questions verify that we are coming from a position of care and not contempt.
I’ve used mindfulness when dealing with a colleague who was resistant to counsel and support. Instead of trying to convince him to accept my help, I practised mindfulness and accepted his feelings and wishes.
Just being there to listen deeply to his feelings without trying to conjure a ‘wise’ answer was a balm for his wounds.
I remained present and understanding, and eventually, he opened up and accepted my help at work. He ultimately took help to reduce his workload which arose from him saying ‘yes’ to too many projects.
Summary
Caring for those who don’t wish for us to care for them can be a difficult endeavour, but it’s important to remember the Dhamma values of equanimity, loving-kindness, and mindfulness. When we care, we don’t expect certain outcomes and reciprocity in return. We just put in the conditions for their well-being and let the situation unfold.
Through these practices, we can be there for those who don’t wish for us to care for them.
Editor’s note: This is an abridged version of Roberta’s Vipassana experience post on her blog. There are many different ways to approach meditation and start learning. Some are more hardcore than others. Ultimately, it is about finding the techniques that suit your temperament and strengths. Roberta’s retreat experience represents one of the diverse Buddhist meditation techniques that one can try! Do check some out here
TLDR: The opportunity to sit in silence for 10 days was equally the hardest and most gratifying experience I’ve had so far. I decided to write about my Vipassana experience and try to distil my observations and reflections. Whether you one day embark on a similar retreat, or even if you don’t, I hope it encourages everyone to introspect on their mental thought patterns in a beneficial way. May we all break free from the thoughts that hold us back.
Ten days, a vow of silence, no interpersonal communication and absolutely no external distractions. Alcohol, tobacco, drugs, books, writing materials and any type of electronic device are all out of the question. Heck, you aren’t even allowed to bring your own snacks. Ten days with you, your mind and your body, separated from the material possessions that define you.
In this contained environment with nothing to escape to, would I be able to sit with the unwelcome visits of Madame Ego and Mr Monkey Mind with a compassionate lens?
What would consume me to attend a course like Vipassana? How has it impacted me, if at all. Where is my head after the experience and will I continue the practice? Let’s process.
Reflection
It was liberating to know that I could push my mind to sit through at times very gruelling sessions.
The course was a powerful practice of discipline, and a real humbling reminder that we don’t need to act on the critical, and often dominant, voice inside. It brought to the forefront the complexities of what we consider our identities, and how we have a say in how we define our experiences.
I was able to reflect on the many roles I play in my own life (partner, daughter, sister, friend…). I’ve rewritten this post a few times, in the hope of avoiding sounding like a generic Vipassana informational. I’ve landed on sharing the points that defined my Vipassana experience…
Grounding in nature
For those of us that live in cities, our daily lives are often dominated by being indoors and sheltered from the elements.
The opportunity to be in Blackheath, one of the highest points in the Blue Mountains surrounded by lush greenery, Australian rich red soils and rolling hills was a blessing.
It was a true lesson of living in the moment, as the weather would change in the blink of an eye. Sunshine and wispy white clouds would shift into ominous grey balls pissing down with showers. Howling winds would break into stillness.
Being lucky enough to attend in Spring, we became witness to flowers blossoming, majestic sunsets, and titillating thunderstorms (nature’s Dolby surround sound).
By day 3, there was an observable grounding in the cohort, people less on a mission, and more in the moment…
Remaining equanimous
The course requires meditators to follow a schedule from 4am-9:30pm daily, with up to 11 hours of seated Vipassana meditation each day.
Those hour-long sits with no movement, could easily make you think that time itself had cruelly and permanently stopped. Your body would scream and every cell in your body would be begging you to move. Yet, as physically or mentally excruciating as the sessions could be, each meditation block would come… and go.
Food times were a reminder of the same. The course schedule had two fixed meal times (6:30am and 11am), where we’d feel the short-lived exhilaration of receiving sustenance, a natural dopamine-lifting activity.
We’d happily receive a dollop of vegetarian food with some rice or bread and a simple side salad. We’d relish the warmth, or the spices, the crunch or smooth textures of the meal.
One perfect bite and all the memories of the painful hour before would all but dissipate. And as quickly as we’d lined up at the start, mealtime would be over and we’d be in another gruelling meditation session.
It was a true lesson of the impermanent nature of everything, good or bad.
Introspection
As the days progressed, it became more intuitive to observe the inner voices and mental thought patterns without being carried away by them.
By creating the intention of breathing and objectively noticing, it allowed space to question the patterns and impulses that sway us like ships in a storm.
Some meditations, I’d feel like walking out early and running away. Other’s I’d feel the competitive urge to stick it out. Slowly, the meditation time blocks became sacred and immovable, and it would only be my mind running away rolling through it’s dialogue.
It was particularly interesting to observe my mild human addiction to catastrophizing, assuming situations will result in the worst possible outcome (cut to scenes of when my clients would tell me they needed a word and I would agonise thinking I did something wrong when in actual fact, it was a kudos for a job well done). The whole experience became an exercise of observing sensations, acknowledging its existence and letting it pass or shift into something different.
Boredom
With none of the usual external objects of distraction handy, it was inevitable that I’d misconstrue the silence as boredom. However, surrounded by the crisp mountain air, allowing myself to do nothing allowed space for my most creative ideas and for old forgotten memories to surface.
New connections formed by linking new and old experiences resulted in new perspectives and questions to ponder. I remain evermore in awe of the brain and human spirit as it is a constant vault of activity that is never completely knowable to us.
I realised that my interpretation of boredom slowly shifted into enjoyment for the quiet space where these bouts of inspiration could appear.
Taking things less seriously
With no one to talk to and hours of often intense isolating meditation experiences, it was easy to get into an existential or philosophical mindset (Why did that memory come up? Why does it hurt so much? Who is that voice in my head? I feel restless, I should be at home writing…).
During a recess on Day 5, halfway through the course with a throbbing lower back and tight hips, I was reflecting on the morning Vipassana session, where the theme was a heavy reflection of my future.
Looking out at the deep green tree tops and rolling clouds, my mind swirled with thoughts of life after Vipassana and I felt a fire ignite in my gut about the changes I’d need to make.
Sitting on a log bench overlooking the valley, my eyes were glued to a particularly tall and striking gum tree, rooted by a thick speckled trunk with peeling strands of dark brown bark that looked to have weathered many storms.
As I sat in wordless oneness with the tree, an Australian wedge-tailed Eagle (I kid you not) landed on one of the branches, directly in my foreground.
For a moment, it looked like a scene from Aztecan folklore – a premonition of the greatness to come. The Eagle sat majestically in profile view for a postcard shot in my brain. Suddenly, it turned as if facing me beak-on, and… dropped a huge shit before flying away.
That broke my trance and made me laugh. Not everything has to have a meaning. It just is.
The experience this time was very different to my first stint 7+ years ago. Beyond being obviously younger, and more immature, my young adult mind was riddled with anxiety and concerns about the uncertain future.
This time around, despite the pending uncertainty, I approached the experience with far more curiosity, openness and acceptance of myself. I could observe my reactions and mental jerks (sudden movements, not the nasty voices) with a sense of understanding. I have faith in my ability to weather any storm.
Will I continue the practice?
Now the golden question is, will I continue the practice? At this point, the answer is yes, until it is no. I am living moment to moment. While not all aspects of the theory agree with me (or rather, I with it), I value the practice for helping to create space and awareness of my own internal dialogue and impulses.
It empowers us to make conscious choices and to be the Master of our Present – the only true way to try to influence the future.
I’m a strong believer in the benefits of meditation and have long incorporated different techniques into my own daily life. I’ve spent years facilitating mindfulness courses (for corporate groups), and guiding meditations and I continue to foster a mindfulness community that I am lucky to learn from regularly.
I see meditation and mindfulness practices as a cornerstone to good mental health and resilience. So I naturally get a little uncomfortable when the course links meditation to something as obscure as spiritual liberation. I choose to take this part with a grain of salt, as the technique itself is practical and a helpful observation of one’s internal self. I hope it doesn’t scare people off, who could actually benefit from any sort of meditation practice.
Wise Steps:
Take time to observe your thought processes through a reflective activity, whether that be meditation, journaling, or talking to a therapist or friend. It will help to clarify your blocks.
Take things less seriously. Everything passes with time. Everything.
Wholesome Wednesdays (WW): Bringing you curated positive content on Wednesdays to uplift your hump day.
Mindfulness now seems so commoditised and with its ‘application’ to many things. Social media is another area that we see more tagging with the word ‘mindfulness’. With algorithms stacked against our brains to promote endless scrolling, can we exit the joyless trap that sucks our time into a void? We offer two stories for your next social media experience.
1. Can one be mindful while social media? A zen master answers. 2. Being aware of the red dots that blinds us
Can one be mindful while social media? A zen master answers.
Cr: Unsplash
What’s going on here & Why we like it
Zen master, Thich Nhat Hanh (Thay), is asked a question about whether it is possible to use social media mindfully. Thay turns the answer in a different direction which almost makes you think that he does not answer the question.
He points towards the advance of technology that allows for communication but not necessarily a connection. We often are quick to anger on social media and name-call others whom we don’t know. There is little room for compassion in how most of us use social media. Thay establishes that as the grounding principle before we start to engage online.
“Many electronic devices are helping us get away from ourselves and do not give us a chance to be with ourselves. There is suffering, fear, and anger within ourselves and we do not have time to handle the suffering within ourselves. We cannot communicate with ourselves.”
Wise Steps
Try to find ways to communicate compassionately online
Fill your feed with positive and inspiring content that provides more ground for skillful mindstates rather than other content that promotes greed, hatred, or ignorance
How do you honestly feel about your social media usage?
The tiny wisdom, an Instagram page with awesome wisdom comics, shares an experience of waking up to our surroundings when our phone dies.
It is a refreshing look at our world, away from a digital one. We like the fresh look of how things taste and feel more beautiful when we are in the moment.
“That day i saw the sky and the trees. And i made connections with people”
Wise Steps
Ask: what is the last time I went without my phone, how did it feel?
Action: Next time you are on a walk, leave your phone at home:)
Wholesome Wednesdays (WW): Bringing you curated positive content on Wednesdays to uplift your hump day.
Trying to meditate and struggling to make it consistent? We know meditation is important but we often miss a few days or two and then…. it becomes a month without meditation. We explore two ways to go beyond ‘loving the idea’ of meditation and doing it consistently.
1. Tips for Lazy Meditators
2. A challenge to make your meditation habit stick
Tips for Lazy Meditators
Cr: Unsplash
What’s going on here & Why we like it
Ajahn Brahm, a Buddhist monk from Australia, shares on spirituality and our occasional obsession with dogma. The notion that we take on labels (e.g. I am a Buddhist from Singapore/Malaysia who follows xxx teacher) prevents us from being expansive in our hearts.
Ajahn Brahm then also shares a unique moment where a reporter scolded Dalai Lama on receiving a skirt from a poor lady. A pretty fascinating response from Dalai Lama that embodies the spirit of Christmas. We have time-stamped the story in the video below.
“You build a circle that grows, grows, and grows. And all those things you have fear of in the past. It vanishes.”
Wise Steps
What views are you holding on to that prevent you from embracing the differences in others?
Heavy Commitments are hard to stick with. Cr: Unsplash
What’s going on here & why we like it
The team at HOL has crafted a HOL 30-day challenge which you can check out and try to kickstart the year with consistency. Do give it a shot with short meditation videos you can follow daily!
“What you are is what you have been. What you’ll be is what you do now.”
Wise Steps
When was the latest time you tried something new for 30 days? The sign you have been waiting for is here 😉
TLDR: What do we do when a loved one passes on? Being in a situation where not everything can be Googled, Fang Huey reflects on her experience as she navigates her way through grief.
We are all so familiar with birth, ageing, sickness and death. However, when our loved ones pass on, we are often caught off guard and most of us do not know how to handle grief. Is grief really the price we pay for love?
The days leading up to my PoPo’s (Grandma’s) passing were undeniably tough.
From the day PoPo was warded, many scans and treatments ensued, until she could no longer be treated and was terminally discharged.
“Stage 4 cancer? I do not know how to feel about the possibility of my grandma passing on. How do I prepare myself for death? What do I expect? I do not know.” – 8 February 2021 (An extract from my diary)
It was heartbreaking to witness PoPo’s health deteriorate rapidly within such a short span of time.
The day I dreaded most arrived.
The doctor informed us to prepare for the worst while they were carrying out resuscitation efforts.
It was a familiar scene in movies but having to experience that scene myself was hard to process. A sudden realisation hit me that such a close family member would soon be gone permanently from our lives.
I reached out to my Puja (chanting) book to chant and share merits with PoPo. A few pages later, I couldn’t continue even though I was very familiar with the verses.
Everything became blurry. I felt lost, uncertain and panicky.
What should I do? I was helpless.
Everything happened so quickly and PoPo left us a month after being diagnosed.
Reflecting back on the journey, the following snippets of Dhamma recollection resonated with me.
Grief hurts
After the funeral, I snapped back to reality and took time to process my emotions. Everything felt just like a dream.
No matter how much I tried to occupy myself with schoolwork and return to ‘normalcy’, I still found myself missing PoPo, spending nights scrolling through photos of her.
A week after PoPo’s passing, a neighbour asked, “Are you going to PoPo’s house?”
She might just be striking up a casual conversation but I was jolted towards my loss and that I could no longer accompany or chat with PoPo.
Rings of a bicycle bell would remind me of PoPo coming to my house. I couldn’t help but check the gates during the initial days of grief like responding to Pavlovian conditioning.
Tears welled up in my eyes when I realised that I would never find PoPo at my gate on her small bike anymore. I felt my heart numb by pain once again.
There is so much sorrow in knowing that PoPo would not be here with us anymore. The regrets of not spending more time with her surfaced time after time; I only have memories to look back on.
I felt terrible. I turned to Google to search about losing a loved one and whether I would feel better.
There were sharings from others who have lost their loved ones, but I was unable to find one that satisfied me. On the contrary, reading the articles made me sadder and amplified my loss from resonating with what they have gone through.
Instead, I had to turn back towards the Dhamma for guidance.
We are fast to cling to what brings us happiness; we try to get rid of the unpleasant feelings and desire to return to the past when our loved one was still with us.
I craved PoPo’s presence, company and care for me. But I couldn’t find them back anymore. It is hard to accept the hard truth.
Her keys, flowers at her windows, soya milk, and many things that I see and hear kept reminding me of her absence. The traces she left behind were everywhere.
There are many changes I have to deal with. It felt strange; I felt a great loss and a void inside me.
I wanted PoPo back and for things to be back to normal again, but this wish can never be fulfilled and it causes my suffering.
Although it has been over half a year since PoPo passed, grief and sadness still arise at times.
With time, I learnt how to cope with these feelings betters, by understanding suffering and attachment. I also allow these feelings to exist and naturally fade away with time.
Over time, we also started realising and appreciating the good PoPo has done more and more. I remember PoPo for the generosity and kindness that she has for people around her. I aspire to be as giving and understanding as her, by incorporating these little acts of kindness into my life.
Looking back, I am glad that I turned back to the Dhamma as it gave me peace and relief, helping me to understand grief and cope with my feelings better.
Wise Steps:
When we experience suffering, slow down to observe and witness the suffering without judgment.
In life, we face many obstacles and unpleasant situations. Be kind and gentle towards yourself; give yourself time.
