The slowest is delta (.5–4 Hz), prevalent during infancy or, in adults, during deep sleep. Healers sometimes produce delta while awake, a graphic example of connecting with the wisdom of childhood and accessing the deepest levels of consciousness.... The quickest brain waves, beta (13–26 Hz or higher), characterize adult waking consciousness most of the time.... The beta predominant state is euphemistically called ‘awareness,’ but is most prevalent during states of free floating anxiety, when the mind is restless, according to energy medicine researcher, the late Ed Wilson, M.D. It is likely that a large percentage of the adult U.S. population is chronically stuck in beta while awake. We tend to ‘think about’ rather than experience silently. Thinking is a useful and essential means of interpreting experience, but it is pathological if it dominates consciousness.
This may, in part, be why parents of newborns often don’t lay their infants down in a bed once they are asleep, even though they themselves are extremely sleep deprived. Holding a sleeping baby, they may feel an essential life energy that, for many of us, can be experienced only at the hands of healers.
When we are able to make ourselves as still within as an untouched mountain lake, we have an exquisite reflection of all that is in and around us. When ripples do arise, we can recognize their source, whether it is the rain or the wind or the fish jumping. Without the stillness, all we know is that the waters are tumultuous, and we may want to do anything possible to escape the feeling of unease.
“I can’t stop thinking about all those available parking spaces bnck on West Eighty-jifth Street.”
Many of us who work in helping professions are used to operating at a sprint, so coming into the present moment may feel like a powerful contradiction. Nevertheless, it is difficult to appreciate our lives when we are not paying attention to them in a conscious way. As one child support worker told me, “I feel like I’ve missed out on my whole life.”
There are innumerable ways to return to stillness, including such centering acts as breathing, meditation, mindful movement, and prayer. Any of these can be a saving grace, and they are all free and portable. It is worth noting, however, that the challenges of getting to a place where we can come into the present moment and experience inner stillness may be considerable. The difficulties aren’t only internal but external. Modern culture, in its many manifestations around the globe, has rejected many of the ancient traditions that value coming into the present moment. The consumerist ethos that took such a firm hold in the 20th century urges us to strive for more (money, clothes, cars, houses, objects). As we move deeper into the information age, the media industry wants us to feel left out if we’re not literally plugged into the latest music, movie, commercial, or game. With all these pressures, it’s no wonder that few of us find time to connect with ourselves.
Being present is real work. Meditation and yoga are referred to as practices for a reason—they require repetition and commitment to a process. In one workshop, Dr. Liu Dong said of qigong, “The first half-hour or so of any practice session is usually just about pain.” Similarly, a friend told me about his visit to a Burmese monastery where he had hoped to study for three weeks. Hearing of this proposed time frame, a monk said, “It won’t be worth it for you. Generally the first five months here are full of suffering, and after that you begin to reap the benefits.”
One step, one foot in front of the other: That’s how we’re going to do it.
Community activist in New Orleans, post–Hurricane Katrina
Still, while this practice is not for the faint of heart, it should not be seen as inaccessible. You are fully capable of becoming present. Sometimes it is very hard and sometimes it is very simple, but you must be willing to introduce some new habits as a counterpoint to your old familiar ways. For example, during a recent vacation with my family, I was struck by how entrenched my patterns of thinking were. I was thousands of miles away from the 11 children who attend school at my home each day and all my other at-home responsibilities, but it took nothing for me to transfer my sense of worry and alertness to conditions on the beach. Was it low tide or high tide? Would those clouds eventually produce rain? How were the surfing conditions? It was absurd, as none of these things really mattered at all. But I was amused by how diligently my mind was working, and in its habitual way—the surroundings had changed dramatically, but my thoughts maintained the vigilant status quo. Once I came into the present moment enough to notice my thoughts, I was able to stop the pattern. I returned my awareness to my family and the sensations of air and sand.
PROFILE CHERI MAPLES
MADISON, WISCONSIN
CURRENTLY: Outgoing assistant attorney general for Wisconsin; criminal justice consultant.
FORMERLY: Head of probation and parole for the State of Wisconsin; administrator for the Division of Community Corrections; police officer; director of the Wisconsin Coalition of Domestic Violence; community education specialist for a domestic violence shelter; Federal Neighborhood Housing Project community organizer.
Ihad been the first director of the Wisconsin Coalition Against Domestic Violence. Then I went to get a Ph.D. and hated it. During that time, I was with my partner for 10 years, and together we had two children and three stepchildren. I was working as a teacher’s assistant in women’s studies, and I was not making enough money to support a family with five kids, so I dropped out of the Ph.D. program in the last semester. There was a very progressive police chief at the time, and so I joined the police department and went on to have a 20-year career there. I served as an officer, sergeant, lieutenant, and captain.
In 1991, seven years into my job (I was a sergeant at the time), I had herniated a disc on the job and went to a chiropractor for a while. It was in her waiting room that I read an article about Thich Nhat Hanh, or Thây, as his students call him. I had to take some time off because of the injury, and I went to my first Thich Nhat Hanh retreat out of curiosity. It was in Illinois and it was pretty small, and I went to a presentation of the five mindfulness trainings.
I was very used to people making assumptions about me because I was a cop, and so I was a little bit defensive. During these mindfulness trainings there’s an opportunity to take a vow to follow these teachings, and one is about being determined not to kill and not to let others kill. I said, “I can’t take this because I’m a cop,” and Sister Chan Khong, one of the original members of the Order of Interbeing, pulled me aside and said, “Who else would we want to carry a gun besides someone who would do it mindfully?” That first retreat was a start to what changed my life. I got a taste of what mindfulness is about and what slowing down and being in the present means.
When I came back to work after that, it was really interesting, because I was so present that it felt like everyone was changing, and I realized it was the energy I was putting out. That is what got me interested, this realization that others were changing all around me, in part as a result of how I had changed. I went through two relationships, one a 10-year and one a 13-year. This is not unusual for cops. Because of what I faced when I came in as a woman and an out lesbian, I had my levels of anger about that, and from growing up in my family, I had a lot of edges to work on. I got sober shortly before finding Thây. That was my initial road to spirituality, and I started to realize that policing was full of effects that took their toll over time.
As the captain of personnel and training, I kept going to retreats and doing meditation and reading, and I realized we weren’t losing people physically. We had great hiring practices, we kept people safe, but I saw people change before my eyes. I realized we were losing people emotionally because of secondary trauma. There is the incredible adrenaline rush you get at work, and then you go home and the things that make you a good police officer don’t make you a good partner, and so there’s this crash when you get home and people shut down.
At work you feel on top of the world with adrenaline, and you’re above the normal risk level that people experience, and a lot of people have this expe
rience of being overdriven and multitasking all the time. You go to work, you get high, then you come home and crash, and you keep repeating this, and the bottom of that cycle feels like depression, and then I think people find dysfunctional ways to deal. You associate that low end of the cycle with your family and your friends, because you don’t understand it. You don’t understand completely what is going on.
I began to do trainings on this, and I learned to translate the language from my spiritual journey into what law enforcement would understand, and so I called it health and wellness and ethics and diversity training. I insisted that we incorporate ethics into our curriculum. We worked on the unspoken agreements and socialization that go on in law enforcement culture that’s stronger than anything on paper and amounts to more. I did these trainings for law enforcement, judges, and attorneys. Also while I was at the police department, I did optional mindfulness trainings for police officers. I tried to change the existing agreements we had in this law enforcement culture, and I think I had some success at that.
I got ordained by Thich Nhat Hanh in Plum Village, France, in 2002, and then in 2003 I brought Thây here with the help of my sangha and the international sangha to do a retreat for criminal justice and helping professionals. I got a lot of criticism and some hate mail, and I got called to the city attorney’s office to explain myself, and there were times that I was wondering if this was worthwhile. It started taking such a personal and emotional toll. I just had to keep asking myself during that time, “What are your intentions?” The training ended up being really good, and I think it was very transformational for people who went there. The officers provided a session from their hearts for everyone there on the last night that was very powerful. It was amazing for these police officers to see that they could share themselves emotionally with others and talk about what it was like to be a police officer and what the toll was like, including others’ perceptions of them.
I came back and I ran for chief of police, and I was one of two finalists and I had a lot internal support. I was prepared for either result, and I believed that if the conditions were right, I would get it, and if not, I wouldn’t. I really didn’t enjoy the whole process and the public figure aspect of it. It was very exhausting and a lot of responsibility, and that still continues to a certain extent. I did not get that job, and after I left the police department, I was recruited to be the head of probation and parole for the State of Wisconsin. I had a very good experience there, although it was very overwhelming, but I did a lot with issues of race, ethics, and health and wellness.
I got to be a part of starting what I think is the most creative public safety project while I was there. It’s the Dane County Time Bank (danecountytimebank.org), which created a bartering system that helped equalize class and access to resources. For example, we did a prevention project for kids who are being arrested and having their first contact with cops. The cops refer them to youth court, where they face a jury of their peers, and if they complete the sentence, they get time dollars. We also started a reintegration program for people leaving prison. I remain the president of the board. I ultimately got frustrated with my work at that time, because it was a governor-appointed job and very demanding, and even though my son was away at school, it was still overwhelming. I understood that it was about protecting the governor from the next Willie Horton, so I left, but I stayed on doing consulting.
I was then recruited by the attorney general, and I’m currently an assistant attorney general. She promised me any projects, any hours, and I have had a great run here doing a combination of active community organizing projects as well as being able to train people at the Department of Justice in mindfulness under the health and wellness title. I also had an opportunity to work with a statewide coalition to expand the project that involves making community policing stronger. I put the mindfulness trainings into language they can understand—for example, verbal judo instead of nonviolent communication. You have to get credibility in your profession, and now I’ve worked in about all parts of the criminal justice system, and so I have a lot of contacts and I’ve earned credibility. I’m not just some wacko New Age person, and they get that I understand their job. I feel really good about how this has come into the criminal justice system. I feel blessed with what the practice has brought and continues to bring to my life.
I’ve always worked with issues of social justice, and since I’ve started down this path of mindfulness, I do my work very differently, and it’s much more effective. I firmly believe that the most important part of this work is the work we do on ourselves, and then it becomes automatic, being able to incorporate all the teachings. It’s like when you look at Thây; it’s not what he says, it’s the way he moves. The way he moves is a dharma talk. It’s just being around him. And I love it that he encourages people to go back to their root traditions, so that this way of being in the world is accessible to anyone.
When I think about the toll my work has had on me, one of the things that is interesting about mindfulness practice is that we’re really encouraged not to consume violence. Well, police officers are forced to consume violence on a daily basis. We’re forced to face the situations that you don’t want to hear about. You’re the one who goes to where there are brains all over the scene after a car accident, and you know all the sad stories and the suffering that goes on behind closed doors, and to deal with that kind of secondary trauma, even though it’s not necessarily apparent to you at the time, it’s there.
And there is this whole machismo socialization of “Are you tough enough to take care of yourself and others, and do it without being impacted?” It’s hard, too, because there’s a job to be done, so you have to close down some to do the job or you won’t be able to do it. I realize that before I started this practice, however, I was no longer doing my job with any heart. And at some point you are not effective at your job anymore, because of your lack of understanding with what you’re facing and what you’re feeling.
I think to take care of yourself involves three things. First, you need to understand the cycle and what’s happening and see it for what it is. Second, it is important not to have all your best friends as police officers. There’s an us-versus-them mentality of “Only I and my coworkers understand this and no one else will understand,” and so I make sure to limit my contact with other police officers outside of work. I never had a partner who was a police officer. I learned and developed an understanding that the command presence required to take charge and develop good interview and interrogation skills at work aren’t the things that lead to you being a good partner in intimate relationships. You have to sort that out.
Someone has to do this job, and I have a lot of respect for police officers, and I love Wisconsin statutes because they call us peace officers. I think it’s a very noble profession, and it’s a very difficult profession. You don’t want to have contact with a police officer, because if you do, it means something is wrong. It’s really hard to get any support from the general public to do your job.
Third, to take care of myself, I’ve developed a daily practice; I have a sangha, and I think Thây’s idea that you need a community to support you is extremely important. I have a partner who is committed to the same spiritual values, and I have a community of people who I surround myself with and who are extremely supportive of this work, and they see that this takes courage. I have my own support system that will help me further the values and help me understand the ways that I’m blind and ways I’ve been co-opted, so I stay honest.
I don’t know what’s next, but it will be something. I’ve always had great stages put in front of me, great places from which I can work. You try to do the next right thing in front of you, and the rest takes care of itself. There was a time in my life when I didn’t do that, and I didn’t understand that coming from an emotional place is a whole different world than coming from an intellectual place.
I consider myself a beginner in this. The thing that I love about Thây’s
understanding about police officers is that he understands there’s a need for both gentle compassion and fierce compassion. If you do both with the right intention in your heart, and not out of a place of anger, you get a lot further. And that’s the big difference. From what place do you do your work? What’s in your heart and how do you approach your work? You must make peace in the space of your own heart before you can take this stuff any further.
PART FOUR
Finding Your Way to Trauma Stewardship
CHAPTER SEVEN
Following the Five Directions
As you begin your journey, remember that you are not alone. Nearly every spiritual tradition has created stories or texts to guide the way. Any one of these might help you to arrive at answers that will allow you to benefit yourself and others to the fullest extent. For this book, I have created the Five Directions as a navigational tool. It is our compass: It will help us to continuously assess how we are doing and what we need.
In developing the Five Directions, I have drawn upon a vision of the world that was common to many early cultures in Asia, the Americas, and even in Europe. In addition to the four cardinal directions—north, east, south, and west—the ancients envisioned a fifth direction. This was sometimes seen as the core element that linked Earth to both the heavens and the underworld. It has been variously described as “the center,”“here,” or the “spiritual direction.”
The ancients understood this fifth direction to be integrally connected to the other four. In the modern world, we often think of north, east, south, and west as little more than the letters at the ends of arrows pointing our way across the earth’s terrain. To the earlier peoples, of course, each of the directions was linked to natural phenomena—and therefore with colors, materials, and seasons, as well as with their metaphorical qualities. East, for example, is the direction of dawn. To the Chinese, east was often associated with springtime, the colors green and blue, and wood; to the Cherokee nation, on the other hand, east was associated with the color red, reawakening from winter, and new life.
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