Home     Contact Us         Log in
Aug 01
Arts and Poetry
Hustle Meditation

by Caitlin Bargenquast, from The Under 35 Project

“Longing to attain complete enlightenment for the sake of others is what is meant by arousing bodhicitta.”
~Maitreya, “Abhisamayalankara”

hus·tle |’hǝsǝl|


1.[trans.] [intrans.] the choiceless choice, flow, do nothing and everything is done: Somewhere, and then somewhere again, in the midst of her ride… she let go the reins completely; and everything was exactly as she’d meant it to be. Except it was more magnificent than she fathomed in her toil. So utterly unexpected, so colossal in scope. Perpetually given.

— performance artist and activist King Lexie Honiotes, of The Leading Edge

Synchronize body with mind with music with moment.

I’m a professional. I practice, professionally. I work for tips.


Synchronized, she moves through space. The lights play across her eyes, as they play across her face, her body. As his eyes play across her face, her body. She looks. She sees him. He sees her see, and smiles.

Synchronized she walks across the room, gathering the energy of the dralas about her. Intensifying the space above, around, through even. Gathering her mudra training about her like a cloak, invisible and tangible.

Synchronized she feels her breath, feels her senses magnified by the fantasy she creates. Attention following the movement, following the lines her long limbs create radiating from her center, following the feedback of her audience. Attention following her breath. Following her breath quickening, deepening as the movement intensifies, as she lifts and floats through the air, spinning on the pole’s axis, moving about the stage.

Synchronized, she moves towards him as the music changes. Leans in gently, smelling the fumes of his drink mixing with the subtle scent of him and her washing over him.

“Thank you,” she says, gathering the dollars he has left on her rack.

“Thank you,” he says.


“God, you’re gorgeous,” he says.

“Thank you,” she says.

“What do you do, when you’re not dancing here?”

“Believe it or not, I love to dance,” she laughs, “Also, write and sing.”

“What else,” he persists.

“I meditate.”



“You look like you enjoy what you do,” he says.

“Oh yes,” she says.

“It must help, because you’re very good at it,” he says.

“I’d say it’s helpful in general,” she says.


As a meditator I practice synchronizing body and mind, on the cushion, and in my life — work, play, and relationship. It is a state in which I practice abiding as a meditator, and it translates brilliantly into my work as a performance artist who must unify a multitude of elements in the present moment of a performance. When I rest in the moment, a walk along the beach can feel timeless, resting in a pool of sunlight after sweeping a garden path can illuminate insight, practicing vocal harmonies in a band rehearsal can resonate throughout my entire being, and working as a stripper can be meditation in movement.


Synchronized body and mind, she dances, she spins and bobs and rolls and turns. Spine undulating, the movement highlights the sensual play of the wave curve of her back, the spread of her legs, the dramatic line of her body emphasized by her costume and poses.


First introduced to the Buddhist concept of bodhichitta when I was 16, I felt a deep longing. I longed to be helpful, awake. I saw incredible, complex suffering in the world, and longed to know how to be of benefit. I began my study of self, and of reality, taking refuge in what I could experience as the truth, and in the precious teachers and community of spiritual friends who could point the way. I began to cultivate the attitude of loving kindness and a dedication of service (to all beings) in as much of my activity as possible, which included my work. Though I felt the potential to arouse this attitude in all tasks, from doing the laundry, to driving a car, to bagging groceries, to cultivating mindful friendships and relationships, to making art for a community, a couple of years ago I hit a wall of frustration. I was a dancer, and performance artist, and I was giving hours and hours of my precious time to jobs that would support me, but were ultimately depleting me of the resource I needed most to practice my craft and develop my livelihood as an artist: time.

I realized after some years of childcare and barista jobs that though they present wonderful and important opportunities for genuine service, I was growing disengaged. My mind was wandering into boredom, and I found myself more and more often playing the mental game of watching the clock, fantasizing about what I could be doing otherwise, planning, even working on writing projects in my head while I was supposed to be wholly focused on the kiddos I was pushing around in the stroller. Something had to change.

Caitlin Bargenquast

Through creative collaborations with some women artists in Portland, I was introduced to pole dance, and to the huge strip club industry the Rose City boasts. I loved the dance of sensuality and playful flirtation. I loved its sister form Burlesque, and the art of the tasteful tease. I loved the pole. I loved the idea of working for myself and setting my own schedule. Going to a club for the first time, I was in awe. I knew it wasn’t an industry for everyone, but was just a matter of time before “the itch” got the better of me, and I had to explore the scene as a job. Heading into my first audition I thought, “After these two songs, I am either going to stumble off stage and throw up into a garbage can, or I am going to love this.”

A conversation I had recently with a fellow practitioner about Right Livelihood highlighted the power that can be cultivated practicing in difficult, potentially mindless environments, like a bar or strip-club. He said, “We in the west don’t have charnel grounds.” We aren’t encouraged to practice while going into the places that scare us. I agreed, sharing that I often see spiritual practitioners materialize their aspirations and outright avoid discomfort by subscribing to views that other-ize certain industries, and avoid certain “types” of people who do those jobs. I’ve been dancing for tips ever since that first audition, delighted by how almost all of my assumptions about what it would be like have been challenged, or blown away completely.

As I continue to develop myself as a spiritual practitioner I am deepening my inquiry of how to bring genuine benefit to myself and others in all my interactions. This includes when I perform under a persona. As a performer, I practice bringing authenticity to my show. Aware of my breath, I can weave a fantasy that delights and entertains (perhaps arouses) even as it reveals glimpses of the truth of who I am: I am a mirage, empty and impermanent.

Last spring I had an interview with one of my spiritual teachers, and I was so nervous and embarrassed to admit that I dance for dollars. And she had the most beautiful response to my shame-filled confession. She said, “How wonderful that you are working in such an environment, practicing the bodhi aspirations.”

To continue reading, please visit The Under 35 Project.

Post Tags: , ,
2 responses to “ Hustle Meditation ”
  1. Caitlin Bargenquast
    Aug 3, 2012

    Thank you so much for reading, and reflecting back some of your experience and thoughts John! I agree that more discussions about boundaries will be incredibly valuable to our Sangha. This piece is a type of “coming out” for me, as I have over the past two years often found it convenient in Shambhala company to skim over what happens to pay my bills, focusing rather instead on my more comfortably accepted (or what I project to be so) pursuits. I told myself it was a question of upholding appropriate boundaries, that I didn’t want to make anyone uncomfortable, and more recently I began to see that it was a way of cocooning myself in my fear of being found unacceptable, or pigeon-holed into a role with a particular title. I imagine that this closeting could go both ways, it being equally challenging to come out authentically in a workplace where manifesting the vision of Enlightened Society isn’t exactly in common rhetoric, or lunch-hour discussion material. How to live more transparently, aligning our spiritual lives with our professional lives, or dare I mention our sexual and increasingly diverse (mandala-wide!) personal lives, while maintaining appropriate boundaries of loving kindness, is exactly the question and practice.

  2. Thanks for the great post, Caitlin. It provokes a lot of reflection about boundaries (as you probably intended).

    Recently I was on a long drive to a conference with a long-time colleague who’d recently been on a job in Bhutan. Talking about her experience in a setting where we had time to talk (our time working together usually is compressed by deadlines and focused on getting stuff done) was a very interesting experience. The conversation brought out how much of a boundary I’ve observed between my life in Shambhala and my professional life. Something about not wanting to proselytize or a subtle sense of privacy or that there’s SO much to say about Shambhala that there’s no time to even start. I realized that even though Shambhala teachings are so much about being in the world, I’d let many little reasons separate the conversation about meditation and Shambhala vision from my professional life (which I claim is driven by my Shambhala commitment as much as I’m able). Very ironic.

    It’s as if the fact that the Shambhala teachings are precious to us can, if we’re not careful, make us subtly slide into the negative meaning of precious (affectedly dainty or overrefined). We need to be talking about boundaries. Thanks for opening this conversation!

Sorry, comments for this entry are closed at this time.

Website Development by Blue Mandala using Wordpress MU.
All content and source Copyright © 1994-2022. Shambhala International (Vajradhatu), Shambhala, Shambhala Meditation Center, Shambhala Training, Shambhala Center and Way of Shambhala are registered service marks of Shambhala USA
Privacy Policy
Translate »