The awful isn't us

Gargoyle, photo by Terry Barrett, Italy somewhere

I sat in my chair reading about the concept of causes and conditions after finishing a 6-week course taught by Pema Chodron. It’s not a new concept, and I was feeling a bit arrogant, sort of like I know this, but then I read:

When you feel you are being harmed by someone, remember that the harm that person may be inflicting on you (or someone dear to you) is the direct result of you yourself having harmed others in the past (p. 156).

That made me pause. 

I felt something shift inside of me. For a long time, I've understood the karmic concept as causes and conditions. But when I read those words, I personally felt their meaning. I suddenly saw—no, I felt—my deepest challenges as a larger understanding of the difficulty and that hurting people often hurt others from a place of unresolved pain. Like coming up for air after being underwater to the point of drowning, I let out a wail. In my wail, I thought, "I must have been a tiger who ate children." The thought was not literal. It was an unfolding understanding. 

I had just learned of the alligator that took a boy from the shore at Disney World in Orlando while his parents watched. In reflection about that event, I saw myself as the alligator.

Having once lost my boy swung like a pendulum to me hurting others. (Stay with me here, I'm not implying punishment.)

In the middle of the night, I felt gripped by emotive pain. I went to my cushion.

For hours, I alternated sitting with my feelings and breathing in my own pain and the pain of those parents. For each breath, as instructed so many times by wisdom teachers, spontaneous connection and comfort rhythmically arose. I breathed in pain and breathed out tenderness to the hurt and the hurters. My sob-breaths softened as I better understood a myriad of causes and conditions coming together to create something - and then their dissolution. 

No matter what comes along, we're always standing at the center of the world in the middle of sacred space, and everything that comes into that circle and exists with us there has come to teach us what we need to know. - Pema Chodron

I remained sitting till a glimmer of dawn.

The uncomfortable feelings melted and passed. Loved teachers felt nearby.

This seems incredulous, but I felt a connection and compassion for that alligator and all those who hurt others because of ignorance. I understand a bit more about the pain of being consumed or caught in the insatiable consumption of thoughts and emotions as if spinning in a gerbil's wheel. I better understand that within all of us is innate goodness and a great capacity for learning, growing, and capabilities: patience, tenderness, generosity, kindness, love, and compassion. 

I am hurt and I am a hurter. From a larger view, all of us are the child, the parents of that child, and the alligator.

With gratitude for this breakthrough, I have more clarity about what it means to be patient while learning from tough experiences and the commitment it takes to become less reactive without being overcome by anger, hatred, and despair. Sitting with feelings as they are, allowing and letting them be, and eventually analyzing them brings insight into the causes and conditions of awfulness. It seems unfathomable to me, but because of this insight, my mind and heart soften towards all. Even those who shoot, run over, bomb, and behead. 

It is possible to use awful, painful experiences to understand ourselves and others and, perhaps, eventually realize that the awful isn't truly us.

This post was written July 17, 2016

Pema Chödrön's book "When Things Fall Apart" changed how I see and live life

The inscription, When Things Fall Apart, Pema Chödrön.

I recently discovered that Pema Chödrön's book When Things Fall Apart is available in a 20th edition. 

That caught my attention.

A friend gave it to me the week my son passed unexpectedly. She said, “This book might help you.”  

On the day we memorialized my son, I had a profound experience. That morning I read the part in the book where Pema says, “Life is a good teacher and good friend” (p. 11). When I read those words, I was so distraught, I raised my arm to throw the book.

But I didn’t.

I kept reading a few more sentences where Pema encourages us to stay with our broken heart.

After the ceremony, we gathered in my sister’s home for lunch. I remember sitting in a chair in the far corner of her home, upstairs, listening to family and friends talking downstairs. I felt sad, bitter, and angry, and my heart hardening.

Miraculously, I remembered Pema’s words to stay with my broken heart. I stayed with my hurt. I sat still and let myself feel. I sobbed and softened. Later I stood up and went downstairs where I noticed that every person at the lunch had heartbreak.

And later as I studied more, I saw that every being has heartbreak.

It was that connection on that day that opened the door of my heart and mind enough to be with my hurt, and to use what I experience to connect with all others. I began my Tonglen practice. 

August marks ten years since that day and I am awed at the possibility of understanding life as a good teacher and good friend. I would never have imagined that my loss could partner, unfold, clarify, and become a transformed karmic seed. I am utterly awed. 

So, when I opened the newly printed When Things Fall Apart and saw the inscription quote Pema chose, I smiled until a tear dropped. It begins, “Life is a good teacher and good friend....”

I purchased two copies. One to take into my heart, the other to send or give to another. Sort of like Tonglen.

NOTES

I first shared this story with Margie Rodgers who I met at Omega when I wandered into the cafe to explore the offerings of Pema's Foundation. Margie is vice-president of Pema's Foundation.

Today is July 7, 2016. Pema's 80th birthday is soon (July 14, 2016) and she asks us to join her in a day of practice. In a few hours, I'll participate in a live call with her and others to ask questions as part of an intensive study and contemplation of Tokme Zongpo’s Thirty-Seven Practices of a Bodhisattva. How fortunate I am.