On Groundlessness

and what we find on the way

1.

It was a Wednesday, around 6:18 p.m. I know because I’d been waiting all day, watching the clock. The garbage truck was still doing its rounds—they must have started late that day. In the living room, the TV was on; I had recently introduced my daughter to The Nanny, and she was mesmerized. I answered quickly: “Hi!” My impatience wanted to convey that I knew exactly who it was. On the other end: “Hi Mariana, this is Doctor McKellop. Yes, I know. I know who you are. I’ve been waiting all day for you to call. But I kept that inside. He continued: “We have the results back from the biopsy, and unfortunately, it came back positive. It is cancer.”

2.

Cancer. Inside my body. Inside my breast. The garbage truck was stalled on the street below. The driver had to get out to move the bins around, clearly frustrated. Was I still on the phone? Oh. Yes.“I imagined it would be positive. It’s okay. Thank you for letting me know.” Consoling the doctor now? Why did I say that? But I did. Ever since my dad died, I’d suspected this would happen to me. Some might call it PTSD, others intuition.The Nanny was still on the TV. Life was still moving. On the clock, it was 6:25 p.m. It took seven minutes for the ground to open beneath me, once again.

3.

“The bad news is you're falling through the air, nothing to hang on to, no parachute. The good news is, there's no ground.” — Chögyam Trungpa.

4.

The first time the ground opened in front of me was when I learned my dad’s cancer was terminal. It was one of those moments that took us from “all is well” to “all is shattered” in seconds. I might have thought I’d lost the ground in other painful times, but in hindsight, those heartbreaks and difficulties weren’t the same as true groundlessness. What I’ve come to learn since then is that to be truly groundless means having no control, no say in the outcome. It’s the ultimate letting go—a deep, unresisted fall. No willingness, effort, decision, or positive thinking can change it. What we’re left with is surrender—not a half-hearted surrender, but surrender in its fullest. Since that day, I’ve been living on a different ground. One without him.

5.

Ocean Vuong, who is the most beautiful writer said in an interview what I’ve been trying to find to put it in words for a long time:

“And so for me, I think death was such an incredible thing to witness, because it was the closest thing I saw to truth. It's not even honest, because honesty is a vehicle for truth, but death is truth without a medium. It's truth as is. You don’t get a say. You don’t get to say when or how you get to experience it, whether you’re ready or not. And I think it changed my life, watching my mother die.”

6.

The closest thing to truth!!!!

7.

As this groundless ground revealed itself, something happened: I became aware of my hungry to experience life more fully. I remember at the time saying to a friend. This simply means I will take it all—the joy and the sorrow, the pain, the grief, the excitement, the wonder, the hope, and the despair. I want the courage and the fear. I want it all just as it is. So when the ground opened up again at 6:18 p.m., I knew the only thing to do was to jump, to fall, to wait. Because the truth is, there will always be something that catches us—though it might not feel like solid ground. I might even call it something else: presence, mystery, love, friendship, family. I might call it life.

8.

One day, I may write about the details of this time in my life: from witnessing my dad’s journey till death to my doctor’s appointments, waiting in a pink gown inside exam rooms, the multiple surgeries, the routine of radiation, the look on my daughter’s face. My mother’s arms. My friends showing up at my door with food. For now, I want to keep it all for myself, inside my heart. It’s a way to protect it—a way to allow this change to continue unfolding. When we go through things that reach deep inside us and rearrange who we are, it takes time to integrate who we will become on the other side. Part of groundlessness is allowing ourselves to be changed by life—changed by our experiences, by loss, by grief, by beauty, and by connection. P

9.

I wrote the words bellow a few months before I lost the ground for the first time:

Maybe you can know that even

In the most difficult season of your life

There’s peace underneath it all, 

Holding you.

It won’t stop the moving waters.

It won’t bring the ground closer, 

But it will hold you while you float

And somehow it will serve you

As arms and feet

So you can keep moving

So you can keep trusting

10.

On October 31, my dad would have turned 68 years old. That day, I paid close attention to ways he could communicate with me and how I might feel his presence even more than usual. While listening to the Brazilian Professor and Drag Queen Rita Von Hunty, they said something that made me stop and memorize it forever: “Between everything and nothing, there’s something.” In Portuguese, it sounds even more beautiful: “Entre o tudo e o nada, existe alguma coisa.” At 6:18 p.m., I found something. I found that I could jump, that I could trust, that I could be scared and brave—but really, it didn’t matter. I was already falling into the rawness, realness, and ordinariness of this new ground, into life in its fullest.

With love,

Mariana

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I know we are entering a very stressful week here in the U.S. due to the elections on Tuesday. Anxiety, worry, fear, and hope are all mixed together. I’m sending you a hug and wishing you the best as you find ways to take care of yourself and those around you. Resources to vote.

A new mini playlist

I loved this conversation between Kendrick Lamar and Sza

This is the conversation with Ocean Vuong I mentioned above

The ground is always shifting

Jane Hirshfield, on time, mystery and friendship. “I am a thread in an endless fabric. I am not a cut-off isolatedphenomenon. And I just feel better when that sense of the full fabric of existence, going backwards in time and forwards in time and outward in every direction, accompanies this small boat that I am rowing through this world.”

“If experience is the best teacher, there's nothing that comes close to the experience of life.” The Untethered Soul: The Journey Beyond Yourself - book by Michael Singer

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If these themes resonate with you and you are interested in a deep, more personal experience, I support individuals, teams and new teachers in different capacities. If you need more information, you can find it here:

Private Sessions: One-on-One Contemplative Psychotherapy

Mentorship for New Teachers : One-on-One Mentoring Sessions to Beginner or New Teachers or people who wants additional training

Corporate Programs : Contemplative Program for Companies

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FREE MONTHLY COMMUNITY GATHERING

Friday, November 22 at 9am/pst (on Zoom)

As always, everyone is welcomed! We’ll explore groundlessness. I introduce the topic, often do a quick reading of related material and we dive into the practice: breathing exercises + guided meditation. No need to talk/share, if there’s questions you can ask at the end or send me an email.

To join, visit here.

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The love of our neighbour in all its fullness simply means being able to say to him: “What are you going through?

- Simone Weil