Lifting Heavy Weights

Someone once said that we sit on the (meditation) cushion, lifting light weights, so that when we are off of the cushion, in our regular lives, we will be strong enough to lift the heavy weights that life throws at us.

When I first heard that I liked it a lot. But I felt that it wasn’t quite right. I have decided that in fact it is sort of backwards. I say that when we sit on the cushion, we practice putting down light weights, so that when we are off the cushion, we know how to put down life's heavy weights.

In our lives we are handed heavy weights. These weights cause suffering. We hold onto these weights and carry them around. Often these weights are so heavy that we cannot bear them, and yet, we still don’t know how, or aren't willing, to put them down, to let them go.

In the quest for an end to suffering, we need to know how to set these weights down. On the cushion, we let go of the thoughts endlessly assaulting our minds. We are learning to put down light weights over and over again.

We need this practice because off the cushion, when we set heavy weights down, we often discover that we are somehow still holding them. We set them down over and over again, but they magically leap back into our hands, onto our shoulders, and onto our backs. Or, we don’t set them down at all. Though we can't bear to carry them, it can turn out to be harder still to let these things go, set them down, and walk away.

With practice setting down the light weights of the mind, we know how to recognize the heavy weights that we carry, and how to put them down, and put them down, and put them down again.

About a year ago I was carry a heavy weight of my own creation. This is when I began thinking about the role of meditation in letting go of the hardships that we seem to hold onto for dear life. At the time, this is what I wrote:

I'm holding a weight. It’s a very heavy weight. It's a very heavy weight, but I can’t get myself to let it go. It hurts. This weight hurts. If I just set it down, it won’t hurt so much. If I just set it down it will go away all on its own. The Buddha tells us that all things are impermanent, and this weight is impermanent, and it will go away all on its own. It will go away if I hold onto it, and it will go away if I set it down. But if I set it down, while it is going away, it won’t hurt. Or, at least, it won’t hurt so much.

I don’t have to throw it away, which is good because I’m not that strong. I'm not strong enough to throw this heavy weight, but I can put it down. I can put it down, and it will still be there; I can still look at it; I can see it and understand it and be with it; I won’t have abandoned it; but it won’t hurt as much.

I've lifted weights like this before. It was a long time ago, and the conditions and circumstances were different, and I was someone different. When I lifted this weight before, I hugged it to my chest. I hugged it to my chest, and I rocked back and forth, and it hurt. It hurt so much. It hurt so much that I couldn’t be in the world anymore. I had to leave the world for a while. I hugged that weight to my chest and I fed it. I fed it, and it bit into me, and it lasted, and it lasted, and it lasted as I protected it, as I held it in my arms, as I fed it. Ultimately it too was impermanent, as all things are impermanent. It went away, but if I had just set it down, it would have gone away much more quickly, and while it was going away it wouldn’t have hurt. It would have just been. It would have been a heavy weight that I had put down.

I am holding this heavy weight. I set it down. Now my arms are free to do other things. But then I pick it up again. I pick it up again, and it bites into me, and I hurt all over again. It’s not that I can’t stop picking it up, it’s that I don’t stop picking it up. I’m not aware of picking it up, but I find myself holding it again.

Over the years I have held many heavy weights. When my dog died, when my father died, when my mother died. These were heavy weights that I held. These were heavy weights that hurt. But I learned to put them down. Not to throw them away. Not to hate them. Not to fear them. Just to set them down and let them be. Over time they went away, because they were impermanent.

So now I know how to set down a heavy weight. I put it down, and the relief is palpable, but then, hours or days later, I pick it up again.

I'm holding a weight. It’s a very heavy weight. It's a very heavy weight, but I can’t get myself to let it go.

And then I set it down.

On Suffering, Anger, and Anxiety

When asked what he teaches, the Buddha said, “I teach suffering and an end to suffering.” I have been learning for several years about the Buddhist conception of suffering (dukkha) and that it is caused by grasping and clinging. In Buddhist philosophy we seek an end to suffering through non-clinging.

A couple of years ago I started to feel that this didn’t quite match my view of suffering. I felt like there was a simpler way of looking at my lived experience. I concluded that, for me, suffering was caused by wanting things to be other than the way they are. Just that. Grasping is wanting that job, that spouse, that money, a child, a home, what that other person has, and so on. Clinging is wanting this person not to get sick and die, wanting not to get old and sick and die myself, wanting to keep this relationship, this job, this money, these things. But these are all, ultimately, just wanting things to be other than the way they are. That is all. This way of stating the idea works better for me.

Recently I had been faced with grasping and clinging in my life, causing suffering. I had also been experiencing a lot of anger. I took a trip to a place to relax. Upon arriving, I was faced with a series of annoyances. There was no mystery to this - I was primed to be annoyed and ready to be bothered by the slightest thing. I found myself so upset and angry that I wanted to just grab my bags, turn around, and leave. On the grounds there was a peaceful grove with a labyrinth. Instead of leaving, I went there and used the labyrinth for a walking meditation.

I had an extraordinary insight. I realized that suffering, and its shadow, sadness, are inward focused manifestations of wanting things to be other than the way they are. Anger is the outward focused manifestation of wanting things to be other than the way they are. This stopped me in my tracks. It was that simple. Suffering and anger are the same thing, it is only the direction in which they are focused that changes the experience. I stood there for some time, then continued my walk.

Later I was pulled up short by a third realization: anxiety is the fear that things will cease to be the way they are now (clinging), or that things will not become the way that I want them to be (grasping.) Suffering and anxiety are the same thing. They differ only in their time frame. Suffering is wanting things to be different than the way they are right now, while anxiety is the fear that things will be different than the way I want them to be in the future.

Suffering, anger, and anxiety are the same thing.

I have a friend who is dying. I am suffering now because I want her to not be old, sick, in pain, and in the process of dying. I am angry because I cannot change this. I am experiencing anxiety because I want her to not be dead in the future.

It is said that pain is inevitable, but suffering is optional. Now I see that it is also true that hurt is inevitable, but anger is optional, and that fear is inevitable, but anxiety is optional.

Suffering is the inward focused manifestation of wanting things to be other than the way they are.

Anger is the outward focused manifestation of wanting things to be other than the way they are.

Anxiety is the fear that things will not be the way that I want them to be.

Suffering, anger, and anxiety are the same thing.

Australian Finger Lime Marmalade Updated and Improved

 

I have been growing Australian finger limes (Citrus australasica) for a dozen years now. The thing that is cool about finger limes is that when you cut them open, little balls of lime juice spill out. They are about the size of flying fish row (aka tobiko) and are sometimes referred to as “lime caviar”. Unfortunately, there aren’t many applications for them. Back in 2021 I concluded that marmalade could take advantage of the special characteristics of finger limes. The result was not great. Primarily, the flavor was too bitter for most uses. Three years later I still haven’t used up all of that marmalade. Moreover, it took much too much effort to make. You can read all about that experiment here if you are interested. Note that I have left out many details here, since much of it would be redundant with that original posting.

I have been harvesting, collecting, and freezing finger limes ever since, intending to try again and see if I could get a better result. Finally this fall I made a batch, changing a number of critical steps in the process.

The verdict? The new batch is much sweeter, less bitter, and easier to prepare. However, I still wouldn’t say it was great, and it is still a lot of work. Nonetheless, here is the recipe from my recent attempt. Perhaps with yet more work it could be turned into a useful recipe. Your mileage may vary.

Note: for the purpose of incorporation into a cooked product like marmalade, these limes freeze well. In fact, they freeze surprisingly well to store for almost any application. This batch included 100% frozen fruit collected over the course of 2024.


Australian Finger Lime Marmalade Recipe v2.0
Yield: 9.5 cups

Ingredients:

3.5lbs Finger limes
2.25lbs Sugar for macerating limes (equal to the weight of processed limes)
Additional 12oz sugar (added during cooking)
¼ C Karo syrup (to reduce sugaring off)
1 pkg liquid pectin (3oz)
1 tsp Kosher salt

Note that last time I added baking soda, which can be helpful with marmalade to soften the skins. However, finger lime skins are already thin, and baking soda is bitter, so I left it out this time. There was no issue with the skins being tough.

Method:

Processing the limes took a huge amount of time and effort, so as before, I did it in two batches over two days, then cooked them on the third day. I don’t think it is necessary, though when making marmalade, macerating the fruit in sugar is generally a good idea to get it to release liquid and pre-absorb sugar. On the first day I processed about 1.5 pounds and macerated the “pearls” in the refrigerator with an equal amount of sugar. On the second day I processed the rest, adding them to the same container, again with an equal amount of sugar. I stored the skins separately. On the third day I assembled and cooked the marmalade.

Processing the limes:

(1) Wash and dry the limes.

(2) Slice the stem end from each lime. Squeeze the fruit from the skins with a small rolling pin. A wooden “cocktail muddler” with a straight handle worked well for this.

(3) Previously I had removed the seeds at this point. It was an unbelievable pain in the ass and took a ridiculous amount of time. For this version I left the seeds in with the fruit, since they float to the top during cooking. However, it turned out that skimming them from the surface during cooking was a huge pain in the ass and took a ridiculous amount of time!!! Oh well. [A reader suggested scraping the lime pearls from the skin under water, and then skimming the seeds as they float to the top of the water. If I do this again, I will try it – though I have to wonder about the amount of lime juice from popped pearls that will be lost.]

(4) I discarded ½ of the skins (by weight.) The remainder I blanched once in water for 3 minutes to reduce the bitterness. [The same reader noted that they retain all of the skins, but simmer them in water for 1 hour - twice! I am sure that would eliminate all bitterness but might lose a lot of the flavor, texture, and interest of the skin as well.]

(5) Chop the skins into pieces of a size that is pleasing to you. This time I chopped them more thoroughly than I wish I had. They lost a lot of toothsome character. I need to try to find some reasonable way to cut them into disks or strips.

Cooking the marmalade:

I recommend investing in a copper jam pot if you do a lot of preserving. They are quite expensive (generally US$200 and up), however, using one makes preserving easier and produces a better product.

Before starting, put a plate in the freezer with some spoons to use in testing for setting.

Put the macerated limes into the pot along with 12 oz additional sugar and 1 tsp Kosher salt.

Bring to a full boil over medium-high heat. Reduce the heat and simmer for about 20 minutes, stirring occasionally. Assuming you have not removed the seeds previously, attempt to skim off the seeds from the surface. I started using a spoon, but that was insanely inefficient. I then switched to skimming with a very small sieve. There was a fair bit of lost fruit using this method, it was a long, slow process, and I ultimately only got about 90% of the seeds out. Oh well.

Return the mixture to a full rolling boil over medium-high heat, stirring constantly. Stir in the liquid pectin. Return the mixture to a full rolling boil, stirring constantly. Boil for one minute or so. Note that using liquid pectin the marmalade gels very quickly.

Test for setting using a spoon from the freezer (or any other method you prefer.) When the marmalade has set to your satisfaction, remove it from the heat. Allow it to cool for a few minutes to minimize separation of the fruit, skins, and juice. However, don’t let it cool too much or it will be impossible to fill your jars.

Ladle into sterilized jars and process by whichever safe preserving method you prefer.