None of it Matters
"A human being is part of a whole, called by us the "Universe," a part limited in time and space. 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 us. Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circles of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty." ~ Albert Einstein
Last night I was in the throes of moodiness again. I had the same thing happen on Saturday night. I'm not a moody person, so these are highly unusual developments. I decided to go with it. No fighting. It was just barely tolerable.
At some point, I remembered. Oh yeah, none of this matters. Suffering is only suffering. Big deal. When I can consistently remember to find my way to the still point, I remember that it doesn't matter. I meditated Saturday and Sunday, did yoga on Sunday afternoon. Suddenly, there it was...the truth! All of the outer stuff is just noise and illusion, easy to get swept into and lose your way. I read some scientific article a couple of years ago that said it seems the entire universe is, at its most fundamental level, light that somehow contains information. That's who we all are--light. There is no difference between the light that is you and the light that is me. These distinctions don't reallyl exist in eternity. We are all a part of the One.
Einstein talked about it, too. He said that we only "believe" ourselves to be separate entities and, therefore, we develop these ideas about whom we like and whom we don't like.
When I look at the universe from that vantage point, I can feel my spirit take a deep breath and relax. Of course, the paradox is that it all matters very much. Many beings are suffering this very moment and that's important. We can all find the end of suffering, but we certainly haven't found it yet. We've still got a firm handle on how to inflict it, though.
I recently allowed myself to get involved in a game that increase adrenaline. I forgot how bad that is for my mental and physical health. The problem is that, as a survivor of childhood abuse, I'm far too comfortable with the jacked-up, anxious feeling that adrenaline produces. I love it. I'm addicted to it. For several years, I managed to stop doing anything that summoned that jolt of energy. I'm not sure how I forgot that it's so unhealthy for me. It makes meditation even more difficult.
Now all I have to do is stop myself. Like all addicts, I have a hard time stopping once I get going. Earlier today, I was thinking, "Maybe I could just play the game and continue to meditate daily." Maybe not. It's like an alcoholic thinking maybe s/he could have a social drink and then stop. Maybe not.
Damn. Just when I was having fun. After a very short while, though, the adrenaline rush starts to feel really bad. I need to be mindful of that. I have plenty of other addictions to fall back on, if I must. Diet cola, chocolate, shoes. Well the list is endless, really. I have a Diet Pepsi in the refrigerator. It's not good for me, either, but what the hell.
America held hostage day 1635
Bushism of the day:
"I've reminded the prime minister-the American people, Mr. Prime Minister, over the past months that it was not always a given that the United States and America would have a close relationship." --George W. Bush, Washington, D.C., June 29, 2006
Mindful Clock
Don't expect your practice to be clear of obstacles. Without hindrances the mind that seeks enlightenment may be burnt out. So an ancient once said, "Attain deliverance in disturbances". ~Zen Master Kyong Ho [ 1849-1912], in Thousand Peaks
About three weeks ago, I got a new office computer. I was one of the last ones to be upgraded, but I let that go because I've been gone so much I can't say that I blame them. It was a disaster. Many of my programs weren't transferred over. He transferred the shortcut. Well, anyone who's owned a computer more than six weeks knows that the shortcut won't work unless the actual program is there.
One of the programs that didn't get moved is called "Mindful Clock." It's supposed to chime every fifteen minutes, at which time I should stop everything, take a breath and just be. (It's a Buddhist thing.) Something has gone horribly wrong with the clock. It's been chiming every five minutes. Okay. I can't just stop and be every five minutes. I guess I just need to uninstall and start over. Not today, though.
America held hostage day 1632
Bushism of the day:
"It seemed like to me they based some of their decisions on the word of—and the allegations—by people who were held in detention, people who hate America, people that had been trained in some instances to disassemble—that means not tell the truth."
—Bush answers a question about Amnesty International's report on abuse in U.S. war prisons. (President's Press Conference, May 31, 2005, White House transcript)
Take a breath
Today, I'm just trying hard to find the stillness inside. All of the anxiety and difficulty are outside, in the noisy thinking brain, in the loud scariness of it all. Sometimes I just sink down and I'm there for a few moments. A few moments of stillness reminds me of what's real.
Take a breath. Start again.
Dreams
Yet it is in our idleness, in our dreams, that the submerged truth sometimes comes to the top. ~ Virginia Woolf
I did yoga last night for the first time in weeks. During the final weeks of radiation, the pain was too intense to engage in any physical activity, even yoga. Unfortunately, I forgot that physical exercise, including yoga, gets me out of my head and releases the emotions that have been buried under all of the thinking. It gave me access to the profound sadness in my life at this point.
I have to process all of the emotions that have been pushed aside so that I could summon the will to get through the rigors of treatment. I'm still mourning the loss of my beloved dog.
I'm also mourning the loss of my beautiful gold feral kitty. I don't think he's dead because he's been around for at least a decade now. He leaves periodically and has been gone, at times, for as long as a year. Sooner or later, he comes back to me. In the past he's returned when he's needed food.
This time he stayed a really long time and opened himself to love. He came up to me and solicited affection. I was profoundly touched. I had hoped he wouldn't leave again, but he did. Maybe it's because we have a new batch of kittens. Maybe when they're old enough for me to grab, take to the vet and have them given good homes, he'll feel like returning.
I dreamed about him last night. I dreamed that we adopted a new dog. I awoke to the reality of sadness and loss.
America held hostage day 1629
Bushism of the day:
"You work three jobs? … Uniquely American, isn't it? I mean, that is fantastic that you're doing that." --to a divorced mother of three, Omaha, Nebraska, Feb. 4, 2005
Here, O Sariputra, form is emptiness and the very emptiness is form; emptiness does not differ from form, form does not differ from emptiness; whatever is form, that is emptiness, whatever is emptiness, that is form, the same is true of feelings, perceptions, impulses, and consciousness. -Heart Sutra
I spent some time this weekend looking through my Lance Armstrong Cancer Survivor notebook. I'm so glad I have it. I found out that the end of treatment is a difficult time for most people. Everyone, including the survivor, expects a return to carefree living. People think you should be happy. I am not happy. I'm depressed and emotionally numb.
It turns out that, in addition to depression and emotional numbness, survivors are often suicidal, anxious or angry. I read a comment at an online medical website written by a survivor who was feeling suicidal. I have to admit that I don't really understand that. You've gone through (at least) a year of grave physical hardship and, having endured it, you think maybe you'd like to check out?
Okay. Writing in a journal is supposed to help. Voila. Allowing yourself to feel as crappy as you do is also supposed to be helpful. That's so difficult for me; I don't like feeling down so I tend to try to find ways to cheer myself up. Banish the thought! No more attempts at cheering myself up. Just continually noticing the numbness or the pain. It's just hard to say much about that, so I'm not sure what exactly I'm supposed to be writing about in my journal.
Later on today I have an appointment with my opthamologist to check on macular degeneraiton progess. I haven't been able to take my vision vitamins for about about 8 months, so I'm a little nervous about it.
It will all be okay eventually. No matter what. God his here with me every moment...I just have to keep remembering it.
America held hostage day 1628
"See, in my line of work you got to keep repeating things over and over and over again for the truth to sink in, to kind of catapult the propaganda." --Greece, N.Y., May 24, 2005
Hardwired Cruelty
" I have been my own disciple and my own master. And I have been a good disciple but a bad master. " ~Antonio Porchia, Voces, 1943, translated from Spanish by W.S. Merwin
People in my life tend to think I'm really too demanding of myself. I'm baffled. Last week, my therapist reminded me that I seem to expect perfection from myself, but I'm willing to cut everyone else an immense amount of slack. Why, she asked. The answer is that I know what I'm capable of, but since I don't live in anyone else's mind or body, I have to assume they're doing the best they can at any given moment. Me, too. Sometimes the best we can do isn't very good at all. Even while I recognize that, I can find it hard to let go of my own disappointing behavior or less than perfectly compassionate thoughts.
My therapist responded that she thinks I'm cruel to myself. She thinks I'm carrying on my father's legacy. The only difference is that I'm cruel just to ggirl, but not to others. I have to admit that the word "cruel" got my attention. That was her intention. She asked me if I know why I'm this way.
Of course I know why. When I was growing up, there was a tremendous amount of my parents' behavior that I was required to overlook, try to understand or just embrace as parts of their personalities. My father was indeed sadistic. Both of my parents were/are narcissistic, although in different ways. There was an enormous amount of violence and abuse. My father moved in a girl who was only a couple of years younger than I to have a sexual relationship with. That went on for about 7 years. (If you're interested, see early posts in which I was trying to figure out how I arrived at this point in my life.)
My mom says that I've always been an adult. My dad made the same comment to me shortly before he killed himself. They don't/didn't realize how demanding they were. Furthermore, somebody had to be the adult. I thought I was up for the job, so I took it on. I was also making a great effort to extract myself from the life they chose. When one is a child and attempting to raise herself (or himself), the child doesn't understand moderation.
I always ruthlessly monitored my own behavior/thought patterns. Justice was speedy and harsh. When I met the beloved teacher who saved me from suicide and gave me the gift of learning how life could be, she seemed to be demanding, too. She believed I wasn't living up to my potential. Not because I was a slacker, but because I thought I was stupid and unworthy of anything good. That just added fuel to the fire.
I never learned to lighten up on myself. My therapist commented that it must feel like it's hardwired in my brain. Yes, yes! That's exactly how it feels. In fact, I don't believe I'm too hard on myself (usually). It's not something I even question anymore. Nor do I question my need to extend ultimate compassion towards others (or however much I can muster on a daily basis). It's hard to change assumptions that have gotten buried in the brain. It's like saying "bless you" when someone sneezes. You don't think about it; you just say it.
My ongoing issues with Hubby arise from that fertile home ground. I treat him like my father. I treat everyone like my father. Of course, no one treats me as badly as my father. Except me, apparently.
America held hostage day 1624
Bushism of the day:
For example, how benefits are calculate, for example, is on the table; whether or not benefits rise based upon wage increases or price increases. There's a series of parts of the formula that are being considered. And when you couple that, those different cost drivers, affecting those — changing those with personal accounts, the idea is to get what has been promised more likely to be — or closer delivered to what has been promised. Does that make any sense to you? It's kind of muddled." --explaining his plan to save Social Security, Tampa, Fla., Feb. 4, 2005
Noticing
I've been using the "just go with it" method of dealing with my depression, but my usual two-day turnaround doesn't seem to be working this time. I'm not quite sure what to do with it now.
I think I'm finally going through the emotional stuff everyone else thought I should be going through when I was first diagnosed with breast cancer. Damn. I really, really hate feeling down. The burn is looking pretty grim this morning. It hasn't started hurting yet today, though, so no complaints about that.
Got another call from a creditor first thing this morning. I called Hubby and reminded him about the necessity of earning money. I'm at my wit's end. I have no idea what to do about this. Oh, maybe that's one of the reasons I'm so depressed.
I think I'll just sit around for a while and notice how depression feels. Man, I love Buddhism.
America held hostage day 1623
The Book of Job
"He who learns must suffer. And even in our sleep pain that cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart, and in our despair, against our own will, comes wisdom to us by the awful grace of God." ~ Aeschylus
I woke up early this morning, worrying about our financial health. Hubby is not pulling his weight. He's not even pullin half his weight. I guess I'm going to have to break down and have a long, long talk about all of this. I don't know. I just always expect him to be responsible. Lately he's not seeming very responsible. I need a little extra stress in my life. Breast cancer isn't really enough. Having my dog die isn't enough. Lately I've actually been having questions about God's plan for my life. This is not a thing I normally do. Generally speaking, I believe that I chose this life I'm living before I even arrived. I believe that I chose it in order to learn whatever it is I need to learn in order to progress spiritually. Turns out I'm a hell of an ambitious spirit apparently. I see people around me who are complete assholes. They know they're assholes and they're fine with that. Many of these people are having great lives. On the other hand, I try really hard to live my faith. I have ethics and I live by them. I check myself constantly to make sure I'm not fucking someone over inadvertently. How's my life? It sucks. In a big way. I find myself thinking about all of those unanswered prayers. In addition to praying for others, I actually include myself. Most of my prayers for myself have to do with forgiveness for wrong-doing (both God's and my own ability to forgive myself). I pray every day to see the world through eyes of compassion. I pray for help in letting go of the rage, resentment and hatred I harbor in my heart. I pray for those people. The big unanswered prayer has to do with the family farm. I don't think money solves much in life, but I do think my stress level would decrease significantly if the farm sold. I guess I need to re-read the Book of Job or something.
America held hostage day 1619
Bushism of the day:
"The good news is - and it's hard for some to see it now - that out of this chaos is going to come a fantastic Gulf Coast, like it was before. Out of the rubbles of Trent Lott's house - he's lost his entire house - there's going to be a fantastic house. And I'm looking forward to sitting on the porch."
— (The White House, "President Arrives in Alabama, Briefed on Hurricane Katrina," Sept. 2, 2005.)
