The sunscreen I diligently use, depend on every day isn’t mine — it is something I use to protect myself, but it is also leeching chemicals that can harm me through my skin. My blood isn’t mine, it is supposed to protect me, nourish my tissues and organs, but it also carries lipids to my heart and clogs my arteries. Is something that acts against me –threatens my life, mine? My skin cream is not mine. It is a consumable…

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My skin is not my own. If it were mine it would go unchanged, hold tight to the form I adore, it wouldn’t crinkle or wrinkle or sag with ease. But in truth my skin has already shown the tell tale signs of ware, it has age spots, wrinkles , lines and sags. Despite all my lotions and potions and exercises and machines, the skin has assumed a shape I so not adore. All it took was excess heat, excess facial…

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My band aid is not mine. If it were mine it would stay put when I applied it, it wouldn’t wrinkle or crinkle and fall off with ease. But in truth my Band-Aid began to unstick within hours of application. Despite what the box advertised, it easily became unstuck. All it took was a small amount of water and the bandage began to come off in the shower. At the very least, if this bandage were mine, it would protect…

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Like the phone strap, this body is not mine. My body is not under my control — all the lab work suggests it is wearing out faster than I want it to. I fear that at the current rate of wear it will become useless to me sooner rather than later, at least sooner than I am ready to part with it, while I still need it. This body is not my own because it will depart from me on its…

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This Phone Strap is Not Mine My phone strap is not under my control — it is wearing out faster than I want it to. At its current rate of wearing it is likely to become useless to me before I am ready to part with it, while I think I still need it. This phone strap is not my own because it will depart from me on its time and not on mine. This phone strap is not under…

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Body is like my computer. This body is not mine: This body is not my own. If it were mine it wouldn’t be showing such intense signs of aging and wear after just 41 years. My skin wouldn’t be covered in brown and red spots. My hip joint and toe joint and knees wouldn’t be worn and hard to use. If this body were actually my own it would reflect my idea of who I am –pretty and fit and…

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The next few blogs — written as in the days I awaited my cervical biopsy results — are a return to an exercise, from the Anatta-lakkhana Sutra, that I had been doing during my 2020 personal retreat. As a little reminder, the exercise was a series of questions, framed as a conversation between the Buddha and the practitioner, to guide contemplation on the nature of self in regard to our bodies and our physical belongings. The contemplation begins by taking…

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I went to the gynecologist for my annual exam, yet another post-vax appointment for adulting that I so loathed. The thing is, this year, it wasn’t really an annual exam — I had skipped 2020, fearing covid, so now I suppose it was I bi-annual exam. Breast exam was fine, check. But during the pelvic exam the doctor found something “atypical” on my cervix and collected cells for a biopsy. I got home and, naturally, started stressing. I stressed that I…

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One of my first post-vax appointments was the dermatologist. I left the doctor’s office with a few fewer moles and refills on my rosacea medications. When I got home and cracked open a fresh new tube of my medicated cream, I decided to once again thinking about rupa, rosacea and me. Specifically about how exactly –what it will finally take –to make myself see clearly that this face, this body, it isn’t myself or mine. It isn’t about me. At first, I…

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Finally, after over a year of strict isolation, I got vaccinated and was ready to burst out of my bubble and embrace the world again. But, before I could bask in the joys of my newfound freedom I had responsibilities to attend to. First and foremost, a shit ton of doctors appointments I had put off far too long.  Of course, I  don’t really want to go to the dentist, GYN, eye doc, etc. These things are not fun, these things…

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At my first visit, my new rheumatologist asked some questions about my symptoms (I had none save the one time blue finger) and ordered additional labs. When all the results came back, I had a second appointment and the Dr. basically told me that I had markers of a possible, future autoimmune disease, but in the absence of symptoms, there was nothing to do but wait and see. I pressed her for solutions, things I could do to keep the…

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Waiting for more information from the doctors, waiting for a diagnosis, waiting for the symptoms of illness to set in, waiting to get sick and die, I got to thinking more about what exactly autoimmunity is and how it is an illness that fits my own brand of crazy… What is autoimmunity — it is my own body attacking myself. It fits. It fits my personality. I am so harsh and unaccepting, of others, but especially of myself. It is part…

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Suddenly, my finger turned blue, and with a momentary sting, a shock of color, my whole life changed. The pain was over in a flash. The fingers back to their normal pink within 2 days. But the Drs visit, and the subsequent lab work, uncovered abnormalities –markers of autoimmune disease — with a lingering effect. I was referred to a rheumatologist, and as I waited for my appointment with the specialist, I started down the google-rabbit-hole to try and self…

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A note from present-day-alana (April, 2023): In recent years, the concept of ‘arbitrariness’ has, over time, become a core point of contemplation in my practice. As I consider the idea of ‘identity’, where it arises from, and, ultimately its hollowness, considering arbitrariness has been a key tool for me. Afterall, if the characteristics we choose to build our uniqueness – our identity— from are just arbitrarily selected, could have been anything, THIS OR THAT depending on the circumstances, can we…

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I recently had begun making chanting a daily practice and, after enough rote repetition, I stated getting curious…I started reading the English, considering the meaning of the passages more closely. There were a few that really struck me, but over and over I kept coming back to a part of the morning chanting that talk about the five aggregates of clinging. Per the Buddha, those bitches bring about a whole world’o’suffering. Its all “sorrow, lamentation, pain distress and despair ……

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During my daily doom-scrolling of terrible world news, and troubling medical studies, an article had popped into my feed talking about a new study establishing the link between walking speed and longevity. A few days later, Eric and I were out for a hike –I was rearing to go for an uphill sprint, Eric however was, as usual, ambling along at a snail’s pace. Recalling the recent article I had read about longevity and walking speed, a pang of dread…

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With that tooth pain gone, I got to thinking more clearly, and I couldn’t help think more about what it was that tooth could teach me. Specifically my mind turned toward the relationship between form and imagination. You see, in the weeks prior to the tooth extraction I had begun to consider the question of where my stress in life comes from –what exactly is the cause of my dukka? With the extraction, it was so clear that the cause…

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