It's Only Life
"A
human being is a part of
the whole...the universe. He experiences himself, his thoughts
and
feelings, as something separated from the rest-a kind of optical
delusion
of his consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us,
restricting
us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest
to
us. Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by
widening
our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole
of nature in its beauty."
- Albert Einstein
I suppose the term "Buddhist" applies to me better than any other
label, though Druid and Pagan are an equally comfortable fit. I
do
not believe in one, all-powerful god who looks down from the sky,
making
judgements on the people below. Nor do I believe in many gods who are
like humans with nifty powers. I am an animist in that I
believe that everything
in the universe is interconnected and has a
spirit.
See, I experience the world directly, and believe that everything in
the
world - including myself - is perfect and sacred. I listen
to the
world around me and hear what it has to say. For me, the spirit
of the Cosmos speaks through animals, wind, rock, plants, and
other humans with a music that resonates with everything. When I
journey or meditate on these concepts, I often experience a velvet net
of jewels on which we are each but a single point of light.
Given my spiritual
perspective, there are some human
behaviours I simply can't seem to understand. Here's a list of
some of them:
- Hurting
a child (setting
boundaries I get, brut force I don't)
- Hurting
an animal
(killing an animal for needed food I get, hunting for
fun I don't)
- Hurting
an adult human
(pushing back on a bully I get, being one I
don't)
- Hatred
of Jews (a dislike
of someone who looks
different I sort of get, of
someone who has many of the same values as me and looks the same I
don't)
- Intolerance
of
non-Christians by Christians (you can insert any religions here with
the same stupid result. Given the core religious doctrines of
tolerance and forgiveness, this one I simply don't get)
- Intolerance/hatred
of Gay
individuals (being afraid of sexual practices
I get, being afraid of a sexual preference I don't)
- Hatred/Intolerance
of men
or women (misanthropy I get, misandry and
misogyny I don't)
- The
on-going portrayal of
woman as weak, whiny, bitchy, stupid or any
combination thereof ('m not very good at relationships with women, but
that's due to issues/confusion centered around the relationship with my
mother,
not an indication of Women's qualities)
- The
on-going portrayal of
men as brutal, single-minded, insensitive,
stupid or any combination thereof (I am quite good at relationships
with men, ALso a result of the parental relationship with my
father, who was less
lethal than my mother. That said, some Human Beings are simply jerks)
- The
depiction in films and advertising (to name but two venues) of unkind
communications between people as appropriate
(communicate, but don't bully)
- Relationships
that don't
allow space for the individual (the growth of
the one reinforces the strength of the many)
- Blind
faith (eyes wide
shut scare me; please, PLEASE; eyes wide open as you move
through this life)
- Solipsism
[Solipsism is an epistemological or metaphysical position that
knowledge of anything outside the mind is unjustified; "My mind is the
only thing that I
know exists." ] (Self-caring I get, self-centered I don't)
I sincerely hope (and
believe) I am not guilty of any
of these crimes,
but I am human and thus inevitably fallible. All of this comes
back to the
part of me a lot of people perceive as
"fearless." I'm not fearless, but neither am I fearful. I'm
certainly
guarded in terms of contact with people (prmarily because I'm seldom
understood), but I'm generally not afraid of people. I
don't
sit around behind closed doors worrying about someone coming to get
me. I don't worry about the world "going to hell" as so many I
talk
with, do. I believe the goodness of people far
outweighs
the bad, and correspondingly, I find that in so-believing, the people
with whom I come in contact tend to be
more good than bad. I
try, every single day, to be mindful and to be authentic (notice I did not lay
claim to said authenticity and/or mindfulness at every
turn).
I believe the
correct term for that part of me that appears fearless to others is my
constant striving to be
"compassionate." Compassion is the Way of the Warrior, as it requires
us first to know and have compassion for ourselves, and through that
knowledge to have the courage to open ourselves to suffering. We
must know out own darkness before we can be present with the darkness
of others.. Compassion is a relationship between equals.
Buddhism teaches that wisdom should be developed
with compassion. The highest wisdom is seeing that in reality,
all phenomena are incomplete and impermanent. True wisdom is not simply
believing what we are told but instead experiencing and understanding
truth and reality - and to remain open to all that requires a
centerpole of compassion. Pema Chodron says
that "A big part of
compassion is being honest with yourself, not shielding
yourself from your mistakes as if nothing had happened. " She
also says,
"How are we ever going to change
anything? How is there going to be less aggression in the universe
rather than more? We can then bring it down to a more personal level:
how do I learn to communicate with somebody who is hurting me or
someone who is hurting a lot of people? How do I speak to someone so
that some change actually occurs? How do I communicate so that the
space opens up and both of us begin to touch in to some kind of basic
intelligence that we all share? In a potentially violent encounter, how
do I communicate so that neither of us becomes increasingly furious and
aggressive? How do I communicate to the heart so that a stuck situation
can ventilate? How do I communicate so that things that seem frozen,
unworkable, and eternally aggressive begin to soften up, and some kind
of compassionate exchange begins to happen?
"Well, it starts
with being willing to feel what we are going through. It starts with
being willing to have a compassionate relationship with the parts of
ourselves that we feel are not worthy of existing on the planet. If we
are willing through meditation to be mindful not only of what feels
comfortable, but also of what pain feels like, if we even aspire to
stay awake and open to what we're feeling, to recognize and acknowledge
it as best we can in each moment, then something begins to change."
Scientific
American wrote an interesting article
stating the one can learn to be more compassionate through
meditation.
In walking the Compassionate Path, I would love to have a partner with
whom I could share a
beautiful day, the vision of a stretching cat, and mutually stimulating
intellectual pursuits. I don't have that right now, and
I'm not certain I ever will, again. I crave love and touch in my
life, but the longer I go
without, the less I grok how to get it without sacrificing my
Self. In my 40s I was simply wanted
by the opposite sex, no
questions asked by either side. But since hitting menopause, I
have changed. I'm still sexually driven, though not to the degree
I once was, I'm still interested in laughing and singing and dancing
and life, in general, but I suffer fools less graciously than ever, so
some standards must be met before I'm willing to spend the time and
energy it takes to grow close.
My Tribe consists of Artists with eyes full of light and
laughter. We don't really fit in with the world as most people
would define it, but we're kind souls, all in all. We're just
Freaks. And that's okay. Diane Arbus, who was decidedly one
of my Tribe members had this to say about "freaks:" "There's a
quality of legend about freaks. Like a person in a fairy tale who
stops you and demands you answer a riddle. Most people go through life
dreading they'll have a traumatic experience. Freaks were born
with their trauma. They've already passed their test in
life. They're aristocrats."
So now that you know about the state of my
state, this
is the part where I talk about what drives me to keep breathing in
the face of inevitable demise (being aware that there's little real
value in anything I do is called "existential
angst," btw, and it has been a part of me as long as I can
remember). So
here's a brief list (yup, I'm a list maker) of what keeps me going:
- Knowing my
dad would want me to.
- The desire to finish all the
books I
haven't yet read
- The next big stormy day/night
- The
wish to see yet another (and another and another and...) miracle of
nature unfold in front of me
- The amazing and fantastic
relationship I am fortunate to have with animals
- The possibility of one more
Great Love. "ohpleezpleezpleez" she whispered fervently into her pillow
each night.
- Coffee - caffeinated, please,
plus sweet and light...and yes, I WOULD like a piece of pie now
that you've asked! Peach, berry or cherry, please.
- MUSIC! Music definitely
has power to sooth THIS woman's savage breast. If I'm down, I can
be up just by listening to the right music
- My drive to express myself
through my artwork.
- My ongoing (Buddhist)
experience of impermanence and compassion
- Curiosity is the
biggest push that keeps me
going. Not a joiner, but an
observer, I am curious yellow, green, and red - and every other colour. To quote one of my heroes, Stephen Hawking, My goal
is simple. It is a complete understanding of the universe, why it is as
it is and why it exists at all..
- And finally, the possibility,
just the
teensiest of hopes (ack! I used the "h"
word!) that there is something better, just around the corner.
Love, work, friendship, one more perfect day, and maybe, just MAYBE
I'll get REALLY lucky and find meaning...somehow bully my way through
the constant fog of Existential
Depression that is my constant companion, and maybe, just a slight
dampening of the shrieking sound my metal-on-rock Inner Critic makes.
Or is that too much to
ask?
Frankly, it's a miracle that I can
even consider the concept of hope again after so many years
devoid.
It feels as though I've been living in a dank subterranean room, filled
with the kind of darkness that envelopes the soul at every turn, slight
scrabbling noises at the edge of awareness, when a
light breeze suddenly sweeps through, lifting the little piles of
dashed
dreams into dancing tumbles of dust, and the air takes on a distant
perfume of Spring flowers...the scent of life renewed. And when
all the dreamy motes settle and the air became still again, golden
rays of light shine as though pealing bells through the
murk and
lend the sorrowful darkness. an air of possibility.
I must be honest and aver that I
am far more than a little frightened by the possibility of
hope. After all, if I allow hope to have a foothold and said
hopes are dashed yet again, how will I survive
another round of such crushing defeat? But...and here comes that
ever ebullient little bugger Hope, with its sweet lull of words, "Don't
worry, there's love and life and so much more just down the street,
around the corner, in every face you meet." *sigh* Hope is
SO naive, but maybe it takes an Innocent to lead the blind back into
the light.
.