How does one sit with strong thoughts and feelings?
Recently, my beloved was doing yard work on the property and hurt himself. After a trip to the emergency room (ER) to make sure there were no broken bones, he learned that he wasn't out of the woods yet. He had to make sure to keep swelling to a minimum to prevent more serious problems.
Once home, my attempts to hover and provide care were resisted. On the one hand, he was grateful for the immediate response to the emergency. On the other hand, as he figured out how to care for his own needs, he didn't really need me. In fact, we annoyed each other after the first 24 hours of bed rest, ice, etc.
If you are interested in cosmic twists, we missed seeing the play JB that night. Our oldest daughter was directing this modern play based on the Book of Job. As I drove to the ER knowing we'd miss the play, Job's plight put our problems in perspective.
Afterwards, I wanted to sit on my cushion each morning. I wanted to take Enkyo O'Hara's advice and just show up on the cushion and breathe. But it was hit or miss as I my routine was out of whack.
Instead, I started with a prayer of gratitude because I had been scared. He had flipped a quad/4-wheeler which pinned his leg. When I heard his cries for help, I was worried that it was a chain saw accident and fretted about how to deal with that as I called out to him that I was coming. It took two tries to get the quad off of him enough that he could pull his leg out. Leg intact, no major bleeding. I got the truck and drove it down the hill beside him. I was feeling better about this. The adrenaline was working.
So here I am several days later dealing with the emotional fall-out.
The trouble is that when I've had a series of events that keep triggering my anxiety or depression or funkiness, then the catastrophe keeps growing. Somehow sitting on the cushion starts out as a well-intentioned idea that if I just show up, these things will get better or go away.
It hasn't worked that way for me.
Showing up means being present to the thoughts and emotions I keep trying to push away or wish I didn't have.
When I take out the content of the current drama, my thoughts go something like this:
Why did this have to happen? Why did this happen to someone I love? Why does my heart hurt so much? What can I do to stop these things? I am sick and tired of dealing with traumas and hurts. I just want off the merry-go-round nature of these things. Please make this stop. Where is the joy?
The thing is, there is no great answer to any of these questions - even philosophic or self-help responses do not take away the pain.
There is often a distinction made in Buddhist circles between pain and suffering. Pain is that which we cannot help and is a part of our existence as feeling beings. We all feel physical and emotional pain from very real hurts. But beyond that, there is suffering. This suffering is what we do to ourselves - an equivalent to pressing the bruise to remind us of our former wound.
Pain is useful. It tells us that we need to pay attention and attend to something. Suffering is more like a web we find ourselves in, causing us to get more and more caught up in ourselves. It's not considered useful. It is a product of unskillful thinking or ignorance.
Sometimes it is difficult to tell the difference. This is where discernment comes in. I've read about it in books. But I have to say, I'm still working on that one. The Quakers have taught me a lot about discernment, but it is more along the lines of doing or not doing something. Buddhists seem more interested in the mind or nature of things.
The sky has been a beautiful clear blue for the past two days. My beloved is cranky and sore, but okay. I am cranky and sore, but okay. The heart-felt pain of witnessing someone in pain is a wretched feeling. It is also one of the most intimate things I have ever witnessed.
A family friend is an EMT. He talks about the time he responded to an accident and found himself talking to someone pinned in a vehicle. He knew that when the pressure of the vehicle was removed, this person would quickly bleed to death. He didn't tell the person that, but instead talked to them in a comforting way while waiting for help.
I'm not sure who was helping whom. Something very profound took place in that event that has affected my friend to this very day. Is he evoking personal suffering by telling the story or is he healing from a pain or loss? Perhaps something else may be going on.
This has the feeling of a koan. With what starts out as an illogical question, provides a prism to see some part of the truth.
Somehow, these traumas and wounds seem part of the deal and create the very grist for appreciating life and seeing beauty. Perhaps that is just another way of saying I am relieved to have my beloved sitting beside me as I read and he watches TV - even if we are bored and cranky. I am also not sure what to do with my fear of losing him.
My grandson fell down the steps and did a complete somersault the next night. It scared me to death as I watched helplessly from behind. His dad scooped him up. He cried a little, nursed, and then got up a little teary. The next day, he told his mom that it was fun. This little guy has been taking a gymnastics class called Tumble Bears. As I watched him go down the steps, I could see him roll with the fall. I wish I could do that.
My meditation group often talks about the possibility that we have only two basic emotions: Love and Fear. With their kind words and a Tumble Bear practice, I hope to carry my breathing with ease throughout my day as I hold both love and fear in my heart.
Diane,
ReplyDeleteI don’t know if you remember me. For a while, I came to your meditation group and enjoyed it. And, to be honest, I don’t remember which person you were or if I actually met you, as I tend to remember everything else about a person but their name. Anyway life circumstances prevent me from continuing to attend. But, I still get the emails on Tuesdays that say “I’m planning on coming,” and “I’ll try to make it.” So, I saw your email and I decided to check out your blog.
It’s a thought provoking blog entry. Often, when people talk about "spiritual" things, I do not get the "discernment" in what they say. It's sometimes just a New Age set of beliefs and lingo that replace the ones of formalized religions, with their own set of hypocritical strictures like: you're a bad person if you're judgmental. Spiritual people, so often, come of more as teachers, experts, assured that they are spiritual because they know certain things. It’s tiresome to me. But, what you expressed in your blog entry reflects the thinking of someone who is saying that the recognition of what they don’t know is an important part of spiritual life. You recognize that there are no shortcuts on the spiritual journey. Perhaps this is a key to being childlike in a way that enables us to love.
Lewis Billingsley
Thank you for picking up on an important part of the spiritual journey.
ReplyDeleteI'm reminded that Buddhists often encourage people to not accept anyone's word for something, but to experiment with it and try the ideas and concepts out for themselves.
In my 30's and early 40's, I thought that if I read enough and did the right things, then I could circumvent difficulties, rise above them, or be protected somehow.
I missed something important. My own authentic experience.
Somehow I had gotten off track when I tried to will a particular outcome. It had an impact on those I professed to love the most.
This past year has been a continuation of a learning process that humbles me.
Holding the image of the child helps me connect to a much more open way of being. Not to mention, getting to actually hold or play with a baby or toddler is better than kneading bread dough. The smells, the texture, the colors, the elasticity, watching them grown and take shape are so engaging.
If you can't make it to meditation, just borrow a kid for an hour... or maybe for you, it might be fishing or gardening!
The world is truly inviting us to engage.
I'm glad he is okay. Though I'd love to be able to provide some profound insight into this koan, my brain is fried. Instead, just know that I appreciate your reflection on it. It echos much of what I have considered myself but gives me much to think about.
ReplyDeleteA fried brain can be the beginning of something new and fresh.
ReplyDeleteA friend recently called a zen school because she was interested in finding a meditation community. She didn't pass the koan test. In other words, during that initial call, she realized that she didn't want to play that game.
Life is hard enough.
Sometimes we get the lesson in spite of our monkey mind, or in some cases, because of a fried brain... probably better for you than fried Twinkies! (It's carnival season around here - couldn't resist.)