Welcome, dear reader, to another month of taking metta off the meditation cushion and out into everyday life.

My previous article, “Metta Makes Space,” found me becoming my oldest friend’s hands and feet as we decluttered her flat in the wake of losing her mother and breaking her foot. And last month found me becoming a stranger’s hands and feet as I began a new job as a live-in caregiver.

As my friend and I slowly pared down her belongings, I continued to apply for new jobs after walking away from two toxic ones. When I stumbled on a wanted ad for a modern-day lady-in-waiting, we both had a good laugh picturing me in a starched uniform, sitting demurely in the wings doing needlepoint as I nodded in agreement with everything m’lady said or did. Or, perhaps I could model myself on a feistier historic lady-in-waiting like Lady Danbury, the real power behind Queen Charlotte’s throne in the Bridgerton TV series?

But the Dharma had the last laugh and didn’t keep me waiting for long.

While I was sorely tempted to apply simply to see what sort of interview questions one asks an aspiring lady-in-waiting, another ad caught my eye for a similar—yet less lofty—role: live-in caregivers for university students with physical disabilities. I remembered one of my favorite former jobs as an amanuensis for students with additional needs and thought to myself, “Why not?”

When I contacted the office to ask for more information, I seemed to tick every box without even trying. So I agreed to interview a week later with a recent mathematics graduate with cerebral palsy testing the waters of independent living. We both laughed our way through our video call, which boded well, and when they texted me a job offer a few days later using their nose, I agreed with my thumbs to become their hands and feet.

The story of what happened next and all I learned could easily fill a novel. This month, however, I’ll share more about the role’s interesting subplot: working one week on and one week off.

Instead of worrying about where to live next, or whether I’d even be any good at the job and pass probation, I sat with fun ways to fill my free “in waiting” weeks until more life pieces fell into place.

To my utter surprise, I found myself longing most for sangha again. Returning to serve at Vipassana centers felt out of the question, so I researched other types of meditation situations looking for volunteers. I stumbled on several New Kadampa Tradition centers near enough to my new workplace, and reached out on the off chance that they could use an extra pair of hands one week at a time.

After a video interview with the volunteer coordinator, they apologized for vetting me so strictly. I thought back to my mixed-bag years of volunteering on organic farms, and consequently far from being put off, I commended them for being discerning about who they welcomed.

Before I knew it, I was booked at three different centers and again thought, “Why not?”

One week at a time felt safe enough to test the waters, Goldilocks-style, of a new meditation tradition and community. This particular one was founded in 1991 by Geshe Kelsang Gyatso. I read up on the good, the bad, and the ugly surrounding the New Kadampa Tradition and found myself trusting my intuition enough for the first time in a year to try again.

The first center was based in an idyllic former countryside manor. They needed help with their retreat accommodation and the center’s kitchen. I took to the tasks and community of fellow volunteers, residents, and teachers easily enough. I must admit to catching myself flinching when anyone hummed or swore or hugged another, as such actions are frowned on in Vipassana circles. The biggest culture shocks, however, came while sitting in on the first few teachings and meditations. After years of pared-down and segregated noble silence, the colors and music and statues and offerings and imagination felt at first—frankly—like being let loose in a theme park. One of the resident nuns even brought her pet chihuahua to the sits—the dog put many of us to shame with her ability to hold still.

The second center was based in a former school in the heart of a major city. They needed help with their World Peace Café, which is open to the public. The team of fellow volunteers were a delight to work with, as were the customers. I must admit to catching myself flinching when anyone did something that the unhappy bullies in my last two jobs would have gleefully sunk their teeth into. My favorite coworker from my last workplace also happened to live in this city, and we hugged for a solid 10 minutes when we saw each other again after two months, and as we remembered and cursed and laughed over all the ugly behaviors we had helped each other survive before walking away. Attending the teaching evenings that week gave me much food for thought, yet it was the Sunday world peace prayers that spoke most to this metta meditator and toxic workplace alumna.

I arrived at the biggest of the three centers to be surprised yet again: the residents seemed overwhelmed and burnt out. The tasks and organizing appeared haphazard. And several fellow volunteers left in frustration before the week was even up! I silently blessed the mess, yet paradoxically the flashbacks didn’t feel safe enough to surface there.

I sat with all my impressions—sifting through those teachings that nourished me and those I could do without, those wounds that still hurt from previous spiritual communities and workplaces and those which were fully healed. Most importantly, I asked myself where had I felt the most welcome, the most peace, and laughed the most. After spending a day getting to grips with a roller iron—an industrial iron large enough to flatten a duvet cover to hotel crispness in a single turn—I shared some of these connecting dots aloud with one of the resident teachers. She diplomatically responded: “Vipassana has its function. Many arrive here when they start to realize there’s a little more to meditation than body scanning.”

In other words, my former “just right” was giving rise to a more nuanced one. And the Dharma asked me to alternate between the first two centers as needed “in waiting” until I found my own feet with the new caregiving job.

Not unlike all the different buddhas I was now getting to know and empower, it felt just right taking my time to get to know and empower different sides of me.

The side scapegoated for her transparency.

The side bullied for her authenticity.

The side still feeling the need to understand.

The side still wondering whether all her wandering had been worth it.

The side still afraid of the darkness.

The side still afraid of the light.

As I gave each new side that surfaced the metta it was asking for, a mountain range of karma collapsed inside. All the Dharma was asking me to do was remain “in waiting” while metta now made new space for me. The rigid black-and-white of my Vipassana years slowly gave way to a gentler and technicolor Kadampa, one week, one visit, one sit at a time. Was I trading one cult for another? Only time will tell.

And so, dear reader, as I circle back for my second round of visits to both centers to take a closer look and to catch up with new friends while I’m still in waiting, may we all find the sangha that welcomes us and brings us peace and laughter.

Or, to metta-morphose The Supremes’ Motown classic “You Can’t Hurry Love,” inspired by the more traditional “(You Can’t Hurry God) He’s Right on Time,” by The Gospel Harmonettes:

But how many heartaches must I stand
Before I find a love to let me live again?
Right now, the only thing that keeps me hangin’ on
When I feel my strength, yeah, is almost gone
I remember metta said

“(You can’t hurry love) no, you just have to wait”
Metta said, “Love don’t come easy
It’s a game of give and take” (can’t wait)
How long must I wait? (Ooh, until that day)
How much more can I take
Before loneliness (love don’t come easy)
Will cause my heart, heart to break?

Related features from BDG

Engaged Buddhism: INEB to Host Three-Day Chaplaincy Workshop for Buddhist Caregivers
Caring for the Caregivers
Beginner’s Mind: Brutal Buddhism – Looking for Meaning and Connection in a Fragmented World
Buddhistdoor View: Pastoral Caregivers of the World
Zu Lai Temple: The Largest Buddhist Temple in South America

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