The other day I had friends over who, like me, enjoy being creative. The idea of our get together was to encourage each other by sharing ideas and teaching something of our own ‘specialities’. While the pumpkin soup was warming on the stove I went upstairs to fetch a quilt I have been working on to show them. This was duly admired. Then I remembered I had played with another medium – folded books. I had spent a happy hour making the said piece and wanted to share my enthusiasm with them. Although my friends seemed to want to see what I have been making, a further reaction made it clear to me that they felt overwhelmed and a little phased by my enthusiasm and confidence – I can be quite enthusiastic at times! Someone said something that pointed to a feeling of competativeness. The atmosphere changed, if only temporarily, and I realised that both of my friends were either measuring themselves by my seeming achievements and felt inadequate or they thought I was showing my stuff in order to feel better myself. The knowledge that I managed to ‘put down’ my friends, however unintentionally, keeps coming back into my mind. I feel disturbed to realise that my actions caused such a result.
I have both rationalised and wriggled around in order to avoid my part in their discomfort; they were both feeling disturbed by conflicts/inadequacies of their own, it’s their stuff, they misunderstood my intentions, stop stressing, it’s and not important etc, etc.
But the awareness and knowledge remains. What should I do? How should I change in order to avoid this reaction in the future?
I learned years ago about a piece of research in the field of psychology (sorry, can’t reference this at all) that demonstrated that when people were asked to notice and bring into their awareness a behaviour that they wanted to change this behaviour diminished in frequency, sometimes to the point of extinction. It was enough just to notice . So… no pushing away…… no necessity for rationalising, deliberate thought or forced behaviour change. To those of us that know Rules for Meditation this will sound familiar.
So I will do nothing. Or rather I am not going to get caught up in or dragged around by circumstances, thoughts, feelings and emotions. I will continue to be aware and notice what is going on to the best of my ability and trust my intention to avoid future harm in this way. And for now, I will just get on with the next thing. And along the line of next things, perhaps a simple apology to my friends.
Ayse’s writing has brought up a lot for me. Her responses to suffering are inspiring and very helpful. My own suffering and ill-health is nothing like as bad – I certainly have plenty of room for complaint. For many years I have struggled with the push-pull of acceptance and rejection of symptoms, though not life threatening or as excruciatingly painful as Ayse’s, have certainly given me many hours of discomfort and distress.
I watched a documentary the other day. The film crew followed a group of severely wounded soldiers returning to the UK from Afghanistan after being blown up by land mines. All of them had had both their legs amputated, one had also lost an arm and lost his sight for many months. The way that they accepted their injuries, the pain and devastation of their bodies, was truly incredible.
I know we cannot easily make comparisons and I get what Ayse says when she advises not to judge another’s pain, but I keep thinking about those soldiers and now Ayse, and can just remind myself of their bravery, and it is helpful. And it is brave to endure without flinching or need to escape. Ayse had the conditions, to realise that trying to escape or flinching away would add to her suffering.
The other thoughts that came to mind was the memory of watching my daughter’s suffering when she was run down by a scooter in New York and had a badly fractured pelvis. Her pain and suffering was intense and as a mother what I wanted to do was to take this pain away from her. I could not, of course, take any of her suffering away from her – it was hers to endure. I was careful not to express any thoughts in that direction. What I knew was that I needed to be still with her and trust. I remember at times when it seemed good to do, doing some of the things that Ayse found so helpful – the distractions, talking to her, finding programs on TV leaving her to her visitors. And then being there, in the morning, after the loneliness and despair of the night.
Daughter continues to have pain from her injuries and will have to endure a number of painful surgeries in the future. She does not have the benefit of meditation and Buddhist teachings to support her but somehow she and those soldiers and many others suffering in many different ways, endure.
I suppose what I am aware of now is the connectedness of the human condition. All we can do is look to our own practice (and what I mean is everything we can do is look to our own practice) – a practise that is for the benefit of all living things.
Andrew’s musings about self justification has given me pause for thought. I may well have been one of those people who raised an eyebrow at the amount of time making three pizzas takes in the Taylor-Browne household. Yet I can spend all afternoon, making completely frivolous items in my sewing workshop. Although they make me smile, and sometimes other people smile at them too, no-one could describe them as especially useful.
For many years I was full-time full-on in, what Rev Mugo has aptly named, my war zone. Then I came to Buddhism and I learnt that it was possible to stop and allow this body and this mind to become settled. The formal practice of meditation, going on retreat, talking to monks and reading the scriptures has all helped me in this process. So where does making pizzas and vintage aprons come in to it all? For me, giving myself to a simple practical task, is where I have been learning to bring meditation into my daily life. I still spend time earning a living doing work that relates to my earlier ‘war zone’. The meditation, both formal and working, has helped me to become more ‘present’ within the chaos that such work can bring.
Since I stopped working as a Probation Officer I, like maybe you Andrew, have struggled with the question what is good to do? Yet I do know that I have to do something, whether it is making a pizza from scratch, walking to work or getting the bus, making a quilt or just going travelling for a while. But to just hold that question what is good to do in my mind and to keep on asking seems to be working for me.
I have not engaged in meditation in order to cope with being in my war zone. I want to do something about myself. And yes, doubts arise, as does the wish to have some sort of justification, approval or just have someone tell me what to do. But I can let those thoughts go as I notice them arise; and I manage to do this sometimes quite easily and sometimes it’s a painful struggle.
In my previous post I had started to explore the very human wish to preserve some sort of comfort zone and to touch upon this here seems appropriate. I know what it feels like to make huge efforts to protect something that is impossible to protect. I really do not know what the future will bring and I am in no doubt about the impermenance of all things. Yet I do have to keep making decisions about what is good to do on a daily basis despite the shifting nature of existence. Thankfully, I have begun to open myself up to the knowing that it is OK to not know……..to not know the answers……..to stop the trying to…….to let go of the shoulds and musts….. to have faith… and open up to something other than my own wants, needs and desires. And I have to say It’s quite a relief!
I asked someone the other day Are you applying for the new job being advertised?. She replied No, I want to stay where I am; I want to stay in my comfort zone.
It set me thinking about the tendency towards wanting to be comfortable; it’s understandable – why on earth would we want to be un-comfortable! Yet nothing stays the same. Everything changes. Buddhism talks of the impermanence of all things, so trying to create a comfort zone, trying to control our circumstances is bound to create yet more difficulties. There is no staying where I am, there is only change.
So I began to ask myself what comfort zones do I make vain attempts to preserve? And it was with this question in my mind that I went up to Northumberland with Nigel and our elderly greyhound, Lottie. As you can see by the photos posted by Rev Mugo, who we spent some time with, we were located very close to the South Tyne River. The photo in Rev Mugo’s post shows that it was lively, but shallow enough to allow two fishermen to wade out into the middle and stand there quite easily. We joked with each other about the river rising and the amount of rain; Rev Mugo wished us a dry night as she left to return to Throssel.
At 11 pm we awoke to the sound of the site owner banging on our door with the words ‘the river is flooding and you need to move! NOW!
And move we did…. as fast as we were able! With the very real danger of Nigel, who was driving car with the caravan in tow, sliding over the edge of the bank into the floodwater. The river had risen by 4 -5 feet in the space of 2 hours and, although it was dark, we could see the water clearly rushing past at a frighteningly fast rate. Thoughts like why is this happening to us? It’s the middle of the night, I don’t want to have to deal with this arose in reaction to this crisis, but I was able to drop all of that and get on with what needed to be done.
We finally managed to re-pitch on higher ground just outside the site manager’s bungalow and climbed back in our beds at around 1 am. We both lay awake for quite a while afterwards reflecting on the dangerous situation we had just gone through. It took a while to relax enough to sleep and we were both very glad that not all change is as dramatic as this. If ever I needed a reminder that nothing stays the same then this certainly was it.
As I mentioned when introducing myself to the readers of Jade Mountains I feel that Buddhism has been calling to me for a long time. When I was about 8 or 9 years old I was given a silver charm bracelet by my Aunt and Uncle. They usually gave good presents and I was especially pleased to receive this lovely piece of jewellery. There were four charms on it: a couple of coins, a little pagoda and a Buddha. I anticipated adding to it with charms given to me (if I asked nicely) at future Christmas’s and Birthdays.
When I started a regular meditation practice with the OBC I took the Buddha from the bracelet and wore it on a chain around my neck. Having it there was a helpful way of grounding myself during the day as I held it and perhaps recited a short Scripture.
Two years ago I could not find it. I searched high and low, turning first my bedroom, then the rest of the house upside-down; without success. I was upset. Over the months I kept my eye out for it and mourned my loss.
Last week, having finally decided to decorate our bedroom, Nigel and I moved a chest of drawers in order to start stripping the wallpaper. And yes, there, in the dust by the skirting board, was my little silver Buddha. I was so happy and relieved to see it again. I thought I would write and tell my Aunt (Uncle died many years ago) about the losing of it, the finding of it, and what it meant to me. Two weeks after finding my little silver Buddha I wore it to her funeral; she had died the same night that I found it.
My Aunt had reached the very great age of 94 so her death was not entirely unexpected. Finding the silver Buddha in that way and at that time now simply makes me feel thankful.
