Our minds are like the sky, thoughts and feelings are just weather
This week, I’m staying in a cabin perched on the north shore of a lake. Looking out from my writing spot, I see a horseshoe-shaped cove, enormous pine trees and mountains framing a long stretch of water and sky.
Last Saturday morning, a dense fog squatted on the lake. Rain pattered but otherwise the fog muffled sound to a hush and reduced sight to less than 20 feet. As the morning continued, light snaked its way onto the surface of the lake. The thick fog transformed into puffy clouds floating high in a topaz blue sky. The sunlight was like a clear jewel, sparkling and bright, illuminating the shadows and nudging away the last tendrils of vapor. The water reflected the sky so that the scene was, once again, an expansive blue and green vista. As I finished my afternoon chores, the sparkling sunlight gave way to dark clouds. Rumbles of thunder echoed off the mountains. I bustled inside and watched as sheets of rain moved down the lake towards the cabin, churning the surface of the lake as it came closer. Ribbons of lightning streaked through the sky. Hazelnut-sized chucks of hail pounded on the cabin’s metal roof.
The changeability of the weather on that day reminded me of the Pema Chodron quote “You are the sky. Everything else—it’s just the weather.”
Because Pema Chondron's quote encompasses so much, I’ve narrowed it down a bit.
Your mind is like the sky, thoughts and feelings are just weather.
The weather can be a dense gray fog, a torrential downpour, a rainbow, delicate sprinkles, refreshing breezes, lightning, rumbles of thunder, hail.
Our thoughts and feelings have all the nuance and range of a summer’s day in Maine: contentment, suffering, grief, discomfort, hope, happiness, longing, worry, anxiety.
The sky, whether we can see it or not, is always a clear, steady blue with resplendent sunshine.
Our mind’s essential nature is clear, steady, luminous.
Clarity and steadiness are particularly challenging for anyone living with a chronic illness such as Lyme disease. It’s easy to slip into the fear that we will never get better, running around trying to find relief from our pain and suffering, hopelessness, despair, grief.
And the more our thoughts spin towards hopelessness, fear and powerlessness, the worse our bodies feel.
Āyurveda is a holistic medicine and views the body and mind as one. The Classical Āyurvedic texts state that the mind resides in the heart. Not just metaphorically. The mind physically resides in the heart. Is it any wonder that our feelings, thoughts, and bodies are so intimately connected?
How do we work with this? I’ve discovered that the only way out is through. If we have some access to the sky (our minds), we are able to notice our thoughts and feelings. If we have some resource in the form of a trusted friend or guide, we may be able to accept our thoughts and feelings. If we’re feeling intrepid and have a map, we explore our thoughts and feelings. And someday, we may even appreciate them. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. For now, when fear or anxiety arrives, can you be present with it?
I like everything to be wrapped up neat, in a pretty package with a bow on top. But that’s not how life works. Today this post isn’t getting wrapped up with a bow. There is no end to working through our thoughts and feelings. For me, being aware of the perpetual weather (my thoughts and feelings) is an ongoing conversation. This note is an invitation for you to join that conversation with me. What are your biggest struggles? Leave a comment and let me know. I’m here for you.