Speaker 1: Pushkin. Hey there, Maya here. I recently wrote a deeply
Speaker 1: personal story about my philosophy on life with my friends
Speaker 1: at the Meditative Story podcast. Writing this essay was a
Speaker 1: transformative experience for me, and so I really wanted you
Speaker 1: all to hear it, and please do reach out with
Speaker 1: any reflections you have after listening. I'd love to hear them.
Speaker 1: You can find me on Instagram at doctor Maya Shunker.
Speaker 1: Okay here it is my Meditative Story. Jimmy invokes all
Speaker 1: of his warmth and channels my dad to remind me
Speaker 1: how in these critical moments, sometimes a slight shift in perspective,
Speaker 1: that little bit of distance is all I need. And
Speaker 1: what I learned from this gratitude exercise is that I
Speaker 1: had become so zeroed in on my quest from motherhood
Speaker 1: I had lost sight of how otherwise rich and multidimensional
Speaker 1: my life is. Maya Shanka is a cognitive scientist and
Speaker 1: host of the podcast A Slight Change of Plans, selected
Speaker 1: as the best show of the Year by Apple in
Speaker 1: twenty twenty one. As a girl, she struggles with taking
Speaker 1: things too seriously herself, the sufferings of others, and the
Speaker 1: hypothetical misfortunes she imagines for the future. She turns to
Speaker 1: her father for perspective, and he takes her on a
Speaker 1: memorable walk, one that helps her understand her place in
Speaker 1: the universe. Spoiler alert, it's not at the center of it.
Speaker 1: When her adult life brings a new and unexpected kind
Speaker 1: of sorrow, she turns to these lessons from her father
Speaker 1: again to find a balance between the seriousness that comes
Speaker 1: with loving life and the wise perspective of knowing we're
Speaker 1: all just passing through. In this series, we combine immersive
Speaker 1: first person stories, breath taking music, and mindfulness prompts so
Speaker 1: that we may see our lives reflected back to us
Speaker 1: in other people's stories, and that can lead to improvements
Speaker 1: in our own inner lives. From way to what This
Speaker 1: is a meditative story. I'm Rohan and I'll be your guide.
Speaker 1: The body relaxed, your body breathing, Your sense is open,
Speaker 1: your mind open, meeting the world. The apartment in Chennai,
Speaker 1: India is simple and spartan, but full of warmth. My
Speaker 1: husband Jimmy, and I tore the small prayer room with
Speaker 1: our hosts, friends of our family. It showcases dozens of
Speaker 1: glinting metal bowls and statues and paintings of Hindoo gods
Speaker 1: and goddesses in shades of pink, blue and gold. We
Speaker 1: settle into the sitting room, the heart of the house.
Speaker 1: It's full of chatter and laughter. I'm so excited to
Speaker 1: be showing my relatives off to Jimmy. Last Thanksgiving, we
Speaker 1: visited his ancestral homeland, China, and this year it's my turn.
Speaker 1: My aunt and uncle chuckle with their playful vanter as.
Speaker 1: Our hosts serve us snacks chai served in stainless steel cups,
Speaker 1: and an assortment of dried fruits, nuts, and fried snacks.
Speaker 1: The room reminds me of my grandmother's old house, with
Speaker 1: notes of clove and cardamom filling the air. Jimmy and
Speaker 1: my uncle sit under white fluorescent lights on one side
Speaker 1: of the room. They're comparing notes on the nature of consciousness,
Speaker 1: jim from a scientific perspective and my uncle as a
Speaker 1: Hindu spiritualist. It delights me to see Jimmy at ease
Speaker 1: with my family. They say opposites attract, but Jimmy and
Speaker 1: I have minds that are wired so similarly. We reason
Speaker 1: through problems the same way and have similar reactions to things.
Speaker 1: Our greatest point of division lies in our philosophies around existence,
Speaker 1: and now that the conversation has turned to consciousness, I
Speaker 1: chime in and try to explain this difference to my
Speaker 1: uncle and aunt as our friends bring out more plates
Speaker 1: of food. Jimmy is an awe of the fact we
Speaker 1: humans have consciousness at all, I say, and when he
Speaker 1: recognizes just how small the chances were that his consciousness
Speaker 1: came into existence, he is overwhelmed with gratitude. Jimmy is
Speaker 1: just so happy to be here feeling and thinking things,
Speaker 1: and the prospect of losing that terror defies him. If
Speaker 1: he could transfer his consciousness into a machine to ensure
Speaker 1: that he could continue to feel and think indefinitely, Jimmy
Speaker 1: would do it in a heartbeat. My aunt and uncle
Speaker 1: look at me with amusement, but for me, I continue.
Speaker 1: My attitude towards existence is completely different. We all inevitably
Speaker 1: encounter suffering in our lives, and I find this fact distressing.
Speaker 1: If you were to tell me that you could reverse
Speaker 1: the clock and never bring me into existence, I think
Speaker 1: I would be completely fine with that. Non Existence does
Speaker 1: not scare me. Suffering does I shrug. Jimmy has always
Speaker 1: thought I'm a bit odd for having this view. He
Speaker 1: cannot wrap his mind around the fact that anyone would
Speaker 1: have such a cavalier attitude towards whether or not they exist.
Speaker 1: It especially surprises Jimmy to hear this view coming from me,
Speaker 1: given my positive nature. But now I see my aunt
Speaker 1: nodding vigorously. Aha, she says, smiling at me. You are
Speaker 1: a uttl ah. What I say, it's what I am.
Speaker 1: My aunt explains, and your uncle too. We're both uttl's,
Speaker 1: unwilling travelers through life. I burst out, laughing, unwilling travelers
Speaker 1: through life. It is perfect. I feel this delight, this
Speaker 1: sense of deep connection. I've never heard my aunt used
Speaker 1: this term before, but I immediately know what she means,
Speaker 1: and so does Jimmy. Our eyes meet and I can
Speaker 1: tell what he's thinking. So this is where you get
Speaker 1: it from. I'm deeply troubled by human suffering. This is
Speaker 1: why I am an unwilling traveler through life. As a
Speaker 1: little kid, I'm torn up seeing the impoverished children my
Speaker 1: own age. During my visits to India, I watch my
Speaker 1: grandparents suffer as they age, and I feel it myself
Speaker 1: when I'm bullied by the other kids at my suburban
Speaker 1: elementary school. If we didn't exist, sure, there wouldn't be joy,
Speaker 1: but there also wouldn't be misery or the ever looming
Speaker 1: threat of future misery. I marvel that my aunt has
Speaker 1: reached the same conclusion and has coined a charming phrase
Speaker 1: that captures our philosophy, an unwilling traveler through life. I
Speaker 1: beam at my aunt, my uncle, and at Jimmy. I'm
Speaker 1: not alone on this odd desert island. It has other inhabitants.
Speaker 1: Does the idea of being a little detached to life
Speaker 1: feel wise to you or something else? Let's take a
Speaker 1: breath to reflect on the word detachment and how it
Speaker 1: doesn't have to also mean disconnected. What might connected detachment
Speaker 1: be like? The conversation affirms by belief that if we
Speaker 1: can become a bit detached from our own existence, a
Speaker 1: little less enamored of it, perhaps we can better accept
Speaker 1: life's inevitable tragedies. I grow up in Cheshire, Connecticut. Our
Speaker 1: home is a bit of a stretch financially for my
Speaker 1: family of six, all living on my dad's salary as
Speaker 1: an assistant professor of physics. One afternoon, when I'm in
Speaker 1: third grade, I sit with my dad in our family room.
Speaker 1: We're surrounded by light blue wallpaper and beautiful Indian artwork
Speaker 1: my mom painted as a young girl. A Persian rug
Speaker 1: covers the floor. We sit on our crinkled leather sofa.
Speaker 1: I tell my dad about our latest assignment at school,
Speaker 1: where we have to dive deep into a topic. I've
Speaker 1: chosen DNA, and since my father's a scientist, I imagine
Speaker 1: that he's going to love that I've chosen something sciencey,
Speaker 1: so I share it with him, and then, as an afterthought,
Speaker 1: I casually mentioned that my friend Marie's project is about savants,
Speaker 1: people with extraordinary mental gifts and talents. My dad pauses
Speaker 1: for a moment and then remarks savants and how that's
Speaker 1: a fascinating topic. My nerdy competitive streak swings into full gear.
Speaker 1: I shoot back, whoa, whoa, whoa, what do you mean
Speaker 1: that's fascinating? DNA is the most fascinating topic. My father
Speaker 1: here is my reaction, and leans forward. Hey, maya, he says,
Speaker 1: a bit sternly quick geography lesson the world does not
Speaker 1: revolve around you. His gentle frown hangs under his black mustache.
Speaker 1: I so rarely see that frown, and so it really
Speaker 1: packs a punch. He lays it out clearly for me.
Speaker 1: Let's not forget that you are one of many Maya.
Speaker 1: You should not only be okay with other people having
Speaker 1: better ideas than you, you should expect that that will
Speaker 1: be the case. My dad feeds me this big slice
Speaker 1: of humble pie, and I take it in. He's telling
Speaker 1: me that when we step outside of our own egos,
Speaker 1: our trials and tribulations are put in context. We remain
Speaker 1: humble when good things happen, and are more resilient when
Speaker 1: things don't go our way. My dad's philosophy helps me
Speaker 1: weather some difficult times growing up. I love playing the violin,
Speaker 1: and it becomes the centerpiece of my childhood. At age nine,
Speaker 1: I'm accepted at the Juilliard School of Music's pre college program,
Speaker 1: and as a teenager, it's a pearlman invites me to
Speaker 1: be his private violin student. But at fifteen, I suffer
Speaker 1: an acute hand injury that ends my career overnight. I'm heartbroken.
Speaker 1: By the time I get to college, I've started to
Speaker 1: accept this loss. My dad, who teaches here at Yale,
Speaker 1: is never far Sophomore year, I live in a dorm
Speaker 1: on College Street, and if you keep walking up that street,
Speaker 1: you'll eventually get to Science Hill, where his office is.
Speaker 1: Sometimes we meet halfway to walk around the leafy streets
Speaker 1: of Haven, or to have lunch at Naples, our favorite pizzeria,
Speaker 1: Extra red pepper flakes please always. This fall, at school,
Speaker 1: I'm plagued by a new concern. From the time I
Speaker 1: was a little kid, I'd always dreamed of becoming a mom.
Speaker 1: I had a play kitchen set with a telephone on it,
Speaker 1: and my dad would overhear me calling my fictitious neighbors
Speaker 1: to share stories about my mischievous children. Despite my being
Speaker 1: an unwilling traveler through life, I'd somehow always managed to
Speaker 1: have an idyllic view of what my kids' lives would
Speaker 1: be like, filled with constant joy, smiles and snuggles. This fall,
Speaker 1: that image, which had slowly been forming cracks, is now
Speaker 1: fully punctured. I've been reading about a series of violent
Speaker 1: attacks against transgender and gay teenagers. Now the realization is
Speaker 1: crashing down on me that my kid could suffer terribly
Speaker 1: in this world, and my imagination starts to run wild
Speaker 1: with the countless ways they could feel pain. I'm only
Speaker 1: eighteen years old, yet here I am consumed by an
Speaker 1: obsessive loop of painful images of my children, suffering children
Speaker 1: I don't even have yet. I call my dad in despair.
Speaker 1: He drops whatever he is working on and greets me
Speaker 1: on the sidewalk. We pull our coats tight against the wind,
Speaker 1: and I start to explain my worries. When I'm like this,
Speaker 1: I have a pit deep in my stomach and I
Speaker 1: completely lose my appetite. I feel nauseated. My world feels
Speaker 1: under threat. Boju, he says, a pet name he's had
Speaker 1: for me since childhood. Let's head this way. We set
Speaker 1: out in silence. My dad leads me to the entrance
Speaker 1: of the Grove Street Cemetery. We've never gone this way before.
Speaker 1: It's a cloudy, ominous day. We enter through an impressive
Speaker 1: stone archway, almost like a temple. The last of the
Speaker 1: leaves are falling from the oak trees. The air smells
Speaker 1: like damp earth. In front of us we see the
Speaker 1: old headstones of people who led complicated lives like ours,
Speaker 1: just rows and rows of headstones. Look, Boju, my father says,
Speaker 1: sweeping his gaze around us. No matter what suffering we endure,
Speaker 1: this will be our fate. So never let your fears
Speaker 1: grow too big, let out a hesitant smile. Novel parenting
Speaker 1: style pops. But he's got me something in my mind
Speaker 1: is shifting. My anxieties, my worries, they lift just a bit.
Speaker 1: In bringing me to this graveyard, He's showing me that
Speaker 1: one of the antidotes to suffering is not trying to
Speaker 1: prevent it altogether. Instead, we can take the perspective of
Speaker 1: the universe. No matter what are suffering, it is impermanent.
Speaker 1: All suffering does eventually end. Not everyone finds comfort in
Speaker 1: feeling small and transient in the vastness of the universe,
Speaker 1: but I do. It takes the pressure off. I see
Speaker 1: that maybe the stakes aren't as high as my brain
Speaker 1: wants to believe. These thoughts fill me with calm. This
Speaker 1: walk with my dad is just what I need. Does
Speaker 1: this work for you? Knowing we are infinitesimally small can
Speaker 1: be very freeing, but it can also be a bit scary.
Speaker 1: For Maya, there is calm here? What is here for you?
Speaker 1: By the time Jimmy and I are married, he knows
Speaker 1: me so well. He knows of my deep desire to
Speaker 1: have children, but that the idea of their potential suffering
Speaker 1: brings me great anxiety. I'm not sure I'll have the
Speaker 1: courage to eventually become a mom. But Jimmy's love of
Speaker 1: life is infectious. He's not immobilized like I am by
Speaker 1: the idea that our children might suffer. I think, why
Speaker 1: create another unwilling traveler through life? Whereas he thinks, yes,
Speaker 1: we will all experience pain, that there can also be
Speaker 1: such joy in this life that it's well worth the risk.
Speaker 1: Over time, Jimmy slowly helps erode my fears, and because
Speaker 1: he understands how my mind works, together we figure out
Speaker 1: strategies to help me deal with my anxieties, including some
Speaker 1: of the methods my dad has taught me over the years,
Speaker 1: and so I find the courage to take the leap.
Speaker 1: Because of medical issues, Jimmy and I make embryos and
Speaker 1: we partner with a surrogate to carry the pregnancy. The
Speaker 1: whole process takes years, but one day we are finally
Speaker 1: peering at a blue line on a plastic stick. Our surrogate, Hailey,
Speaker 1: is pregnant. Six weeks in the pregnancy fails. For so long,
Speaker 1: motherhood has been this enormous presence in my life, first
Speaker 1: in my consuming fear of it, then in my pursuit
Speaker 1: of it and now in my grief. We end up
Speaker 1: trying again, and this time, at the six week mark,
Speaker 1: we're surprised to discover that Haley is carrying identical twins.
Speaker 1: Our single embryo has split in two. Jimmy and I
Speaker 1: are elated. Then, just a few hours after we see
Speaker 1: the images of these perfect little beating hearts, Haley starts bleeding.
Speaker 1: I know what's going to happen, and I can hardly
Speaker 1: bear it. Evening has fallen in the Bay Area. I've
Speaker 1: snuggled under the comforter and I'm staring at our white
Speaker 1: wall and the few books that lay on her dresser.
Speaker 1: Jimmy stands in the doorway may He says, his nickname
Speaker 1: for me, My, Let's list some things were grateful for. No,
Speaker 1: I really don't want to, I say, shaking my head.
Speaker 1: The idea of gratitude feels jarring in this moment. It'll
Speaker 1: be quick, he says, let's just name a few things
Speaker 1: were really thankful for. I sigh. I glance over at
Speaker 1: Jimmy's reassuring smile. He looks at me encouragingly. Okay, Number
Speaker 1: one on my list is Jimmy, and then I name
Speaker 1: some other things my six nieces and nephews, my family,
Speaker 1: and my best friends, and my morning cups of Chai,
Speaker 1: which bring me comfort and warmth and have become a
Speaker 1: ritual over the past few years. A podcast I love
Speaker 1: creating so much, which allows me to emotionally connect with
Speaker 1: us all over the world and mine wisdom from their stories.
Speaker 1: Even my exercise routine, which has kept me sane and
Speaker 1: happy through the pandemic. Jimmy invokes all of his warmth
Speaker 1: and channels my dad to remind me how in these
Speaker 1: critical moments, sometimes a slight shift in perspective, that little
Speaker 1: bit of distance is all I need. And what I
Speaker 1: learned from this gratitude exercise is that I had become
Speaker 1: so zeroed in on my quest from motherhood, I had
Speaker 1: lost sight of how otherwise rich and multidimensional my life is.
Speaker 1: Like all efforts to make ourselves feel better in the moment,
Speaker 1: this one's not perfect, but this meaningful shift in my
Speaker 1: perspective that my dad has been helping me to cultivate
Speaker 1: since childhood, it brings me some peace. It's similar to
Speaker 1: the relief I felt walking with my dad on that
Speaker 1: fall day nearly two decades ago. I back on those
Speaker 1: conversations in New Haven and in Chennai. The images are
Speaker 1: comforting When my life feels heavy, even a small change
Speaker 1: in perspective can help me to survive it. We're all
Speaker 1: just briefly and bravely traveling through this life. Thank you, Maya.
Speaker 1: Your story has me reflecting on the importance of subtle
Speaker 1: shifts of perspective in my own life. There are so
Speaker 1: many elements of Mayer's story that I could use as
Speaker 1: the runaway for our meditation together. So I'm going to
Speaker 1: be greedy and pick three, and we'll start by lightning
Speaker 1: our footprint, eyes open or closed. Know what it is
Speaker 1: to be light upon the earth. Nothing for us to do,
Speaker 1: our weight supported by the earth, the movements of our mind,
Speaker 1: the sensations of our bodies, fluid changing, light weight. We're
Speaker 1: aware of our experience as it's blown around, thoughts, sensations,
Speaker 1: like dandelion seeds on the breeze. Maya story is also
Speaker 1: about suffering. Suffering that is real and suffering that is imagined,
Speaker 1: and maybe a suffering that is a layering of the two.
Speaker 1: Things can be hard. There is everyday suffering, and there
Speaker 1: is the suffering you wouldn't even wish on your nemesis.
Speaker 1: It's what it is to be human. There's a universality
Speaker 1: to it, and a lightness, the knowledge that we all
Speaker 1: just stumble through somehow, billions of people, each the center
Speaker 1: of their own world, but not the center of the world.
Speaker 1: Eight billion dandelion seeds, all in a spaciousness. It's almost
Speaker 1: dandelion season here in Glasgow, Scotland, so we've seen the
Speaker 1: first here and there on our walks. We pick them
Speaker 1: up and with our breath send them out into the
Speaker 1: air to float, to be light. Each one a wish
Speaker 1: in the toughest of times. Jimmy points Meyer to gratitude.
Speaker 1: I wish I had his wisdom. So let's take his
Speaker 1: invitation ourselves to let's just do it. Let's just name
Speaker 1: a few things we're really grateful for. I'll start the
Speaker 1: long summer days. Disney plus, good running trainers, my wife,
Speaker 1: putting up with my cooking. Okay, your turn now. As
Speaker 1: Maya says, sometimes we become so zeroed in on the thing,
Speaker 1: so it can be helpful to remember that our lives
Speaker 1: are multi dimensional and full. You two can be more Jimmy,
Speaker 1: and remember that even in the difficult times, you two
Speaker 1: can be more Maya and practice it even when we
Speaker 1: don't want to. You two can be light, delicate upon
Speaker 1: the earth. Thank You, Maya and Thank You. Meditative Story
Speaker 1: is a Waite One original. Our executive producers are Derren Triff,
Speaker 1: June Cohen, and Rebecca Grierson. J Panjabi is our supervising producer.
Speaker 1: The series is produced by Dorothy Abrams. Original music and
Speaker 1: sound designed by Ryan Holiday. Our scriptwriters are Hannah Brentcher,
Speaker 1: Peter Keckley, Marie McCoy Thompson, and Florence Williams. Mixing and
Speaker 1: mastering by Brian Pugh. Special thanks to Emily McManus, Anna Pizino,
Speaker 1: Sarah Tarta, kelc Carpetano, Tim Cronin, Sammy Opouta, Leah, Sarah Mettis,
Speaker 1: Colin Howarth, chineme Is, Equena, Charlie Menezes, and Adam Heiner
Speaker 1: and i'm Rohan Gonnatilico, creator of the Budafi Meditation app,
Speaker 1: and your host. Visit meditativestory dot com to find the
Speaker 1: transcript for this episode.