At the heart of attachment lies our personality, what the Buddhists refer to as the desire nature. My friend Robert, a recent Buddhist Monk, works diligently to help me understand some insights about myself and to free me from harmful attachments. But we do not see eye-to-eye on some key points. Our primary difference is in the area of commitment.
I believe that commitment comes from the soul. In life, and human relationships, attachment closes down options; commitment opens them up. We have become a society of attachments and most people can't tell the difference. Quick self-check: if attachment leads to entrapment - what relationship do I have with my cell phone, computer, truck... etc? I am (bet you are too) attached to things. The maintenance of these things takes an ever-increasing amount of my time. Commitment leads to greater degrees of freedom. How is that, you ask?
Both involve in the moment an experience of holding something against the flow or standing against temptation. Attachment is that automatic reflex to hang on, which may not always reflect our deepest good. Commitment is a conscious choice to align ourselves with our most genuine values and our sense of purpose. In so doing I have freedom from what does not matter. Therein lies my freedom to be myself. Got commitment?
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Stories From Cancer Survivors #1
"Before I got sick I was very certain of everything. I knew what I wanted and when I wanted it. Most of the time I knew what I had to do to get it, too. I walked around with my hand outstretched saying, 'I want an apple.' Many times life would give me a pomegranate instead. I was always so disappointed that I wouldn't look at it to see what it was. I don't think I was capable of seeing what it was. I had the world divided into two categories; 'Apple' and 'not-Apple.' If it wasn't an apple it was only a not-apple. I don't see things like that anymore. I like pomegranates."
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Living vs. Surviving
A therapist whose counsel I was blessed with helped me to this realization: What we do in order to survive is often different from what we may need to do in order to live. In fact my survival skills and tools may work at cross purposes to my living. Worse yet, the practice of survival skills can become so ingrained I may forget how to live.
Many of my survival skills were about tolerance of the unacceptable in and around me; skills about coping with an out-of-control existence. Survival skills are largely about reducing the world's impact on me, and expediting my withdrawal from the world.
I have observed a phenomenon among many of the world's withdrawn. Through the loss of connection they often become more vulnerable emotionally; not all, but many do. Encampments of homeless men and women often demonstrate this in their protectiveness of their "family." At the heart of vulnerability is the ability to share that with others who are similarly vulnerable. This is basic even to recovery - one suffering soul can best reach another..
It is also reflected in the difference between "communication" and "connection." I blog. I Facebook. I often post excerpts from blogs on Facebook. That is all communication. But is not connection. In large part I am still learning about connection.
I suppose that listening to another person is the most powerful way to begin connecting. I have ceased to tell many people just how I am in recent months. It seems that no matter how I try to explain the experiences of cancer, homelessness, divorce or simply how I am right now, the pain I have dealt with somehow becomes a story about themselves. It is too lonely talking with them. The interruption to explain how they have had "something just like that happen" severs the connection.
In this journey I have come to some wonderful insights. Primary among them is my belief that our imperfection and our pain is what allows us closer. In drawing together, we share joy. At the very heart of intimacy lies vulnerability. I cannot trust someone with mine unless I see a matching vulnerability in them. In that way I know I will be free of judgement.
Equally important is this; I cannot become happy by ignoring suffering in myself and in others. The part of me that feels suffering is the same part that recognizes joy.
Many of my survival skills were about tolerance of the unacceptable in and around me; skills about coping with an out-of-control existence. Survival skills are largely about reducing the world's impact on me, and expediting my withdrawal from the world.
I have observed a phenomenon among many of the world's withdrawn. Through the loss of connection they often become more vulnerable emotionally; not all, but many do. Encampments of homeless men and women often demonstrate this in their protectiveness of their "family." At the heart of vulnerability is the ability to share that with others who are similarly vulnerable. This is basic even to recovery - one suffering soul can best reach another..
It is also reflected in the difference between "communication" and "connection." I blog. I Facebook. I often post excerpts from blogs on Facebook. That is all communication. But is not connection. In large part I am still learning about connection.
I suppose that listening to another person is the most powerful way to begin connecting. I have ceased to tell many people just how I am in recent months. It seems that no matter how I try to explain the experiences of cancer, homelessness, divorce or simply how I am right now, the pain I have dealt with somehow becomes a story about themselves. It is too lonely talking with them. The interruption to explain how they have had "something just like that happen" severs the connection.
In this journey I have come to some wonderful insights. Primary among them is my belief that our imperfection and our pain is what allows us closer. In drawing together, we share joy. At the very heart of intimacy lies vulnerability. I cannot trust someone with mine unless I see a matching vulnerability in them. In that way I know I will be free of judgement.
Equally important is this; I cannot become happy by ignoring suffering in myself and in others. The part of me that feels suffering is the same part that recognizes joy.
The Diagnosis is Not
the Prognosis
I went to Palo Alto last night. It was my first visit to the survivor's support group since David's passing. Truthfully, I only went back because I was hurting inside. Not physically but emotionally. I have become symptomatic again. And my old friend Mortal Terror has been knocking on my door.
I needed to hear from other survivors last night. I needed to hear someone who understands that a clinical diagnosis is not a prognosis tell me, "WE will walk you through this." The power of "WE" is absolutely amazing.
The past few years of my life have been about loss, gain and lessons learned. Almost everything I ever held dear was lost, surrendered, stripped away, sacrificed, or tossed aside. And in the midst of all that loss I found myself. There is a subtle shift required to differentiate that thought from finding myself in the middle of loss.
"WE" walks me through the steps of recovery. "WE" was there through 2 different cancers. "WE" continues to teach me about the value of letting things go and trusting in God. And "WE" will be there through whatever this recurrence of symptoms portends. I have been blessed by an abundance of "WE" in my life.. I am an unusually lucky man.
Over the course of time I have also gained this insight; while "WE" has always my best at heart, "They" do not. "WE" has taught me to take risks. "They" play it safe. "WE" showed me it was ok to take the hand extended to me and return it to others. "They" have been known to bite that hand.
I think successful recovery programs learned early to teach lessons about life; Life is a "WE" program.
I went to Palo Alto last night. It was my first visit to the survivor's support group since David's passing. Truthfully, I only went back because I was hurting inside. Not physically but emotionally. I have become symptomatic again. And my old friend Mortal Terror has been knocking on my door.
I needed to hear from other survivors last night. I needed to hear someone who understands that a clinical diagnosis is not a prognosis tell me, "WE will walk you through this." The power of "WE" is absolutely amazing.
The past few years of my life have been about loss, gain and lessons learned. Almost everything I ever held dear was lost, surrendered, stripped away, sacrificed, or tossed aside. And in the midst of all that loss I found myself. There is a subtle shift required to differentiate that thought from finding myself in the middle of loss.
"WE" walks me through the steps of recovery. "WE" was there through 2 different cancers. "WE" continues to teach me about the value of letting things go and trusting in God. And "WE" will be there through whatever this recurrence of symptoms portends. I have been blessed by an abundance of "WE" in my life.. I am an unusually lucky man.
Over the course of time I have also gained this insight; while "WE" has always my best at heart, "They" do not. "WE" has taught me to take risks. "They" play it safe. "WE" showed me it was ok to take the hand extended to me and return it to others. "They" have been known to bite that hand.
I think successful recovery programs learned early to teach lessons about life; Life is a "WE" program.
Must Be Present To Win
I found a discarded stub for a drawing that took place days ago. Date, time and location were crisply printed above the phrase, "Must Be Present To Win." I don't know what the prize or prizes may have been but that stub was my prize today.
I cannot live life at a distance. I have to be fully immersed in life to truly live it. In the past I was trained to be an observer of my surroundings. That is my major bone of contention with DBT as I studied it; the focus on observation rather than engagement.
My Christian faith has taught me of the need to reach beyond myself, to make contact with as much of God's creation as I can. In the process I have been exposed to some interesting observations of other faith systems.
In the Hindu culture exist several depictions of the "Shiva Nata Raja," or Dancing Shiva - dancing god. In one such statuette, Shiva dances on the back of a crouched man studying something in his hands. The man is so caught up in his introspective thought that he doesn't notice god dancing on his back.
I think we are here for a number of reasons, chief among them is to learn to love better. I have learned many of these lessons through both "winning" and "losing." All that must be done is to show up for class and participate in the discussion. You must be present to win.
I cannot live life at a distance. I have to be fully immersed in life to truly live it. In the past I was trained to be an observer of my surroundings. That is my major bone of contention with DBT as I studied it; the focus on observation rather than engagement.
My Christian faith has taught me of the need to reach beyond myself, to make contact with as much of God's creation as I can. In the process I have been exposed to some interesting observations of other faith systems.
In the Hindu culture exist several depictions of the "Shiva Nata Raja," or Dancing Shiva - dancing god. In one such statuette, Shiva dances on the back of a crouched man studying something in his hands. The man is so caught up in his introspective thought that he doesn't notice god dancing on his back.
I think we are here for a number of reasons, chief among them is to learn to love better. I have learned many of these lessons through both "winning" and "losing." All that must be done is to show up for class and participate in the discussion. You must be present to win.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Pain v. Comfort
Those who don't love themselves as they are rarely love life as it is either. Most of us prefer certain of life's experiences and deny or reject others. They remain unaware of the hidden things that may come wrapped in plain, or even ugly paper. In avoiding pain and seeking comfort at all cost we risk being left without intimacy or compassion. In rejecting change or risk we often cheat ourselves of the quest. In denying our suffering we may never know our strength or our greatness, or even that the love we have been given can be trusted.
Beyond comfort lies grace, mystery and adventure. I learned this early in my life, preferring a backpack to a Holiday Inn. In the rigors of extended treks with a short food supply I learned to test my mettle and developed an internal compass that was able to guide me; a moral compass. I learned that my own tendency to avoid the conventional allowed me to expand my consciousness - without the use of drugs. So what then happened?
In my experience, an accumulation of material goods created a shift in focus. I began to trust in the gifts and my ability to acquire them, rather than trust in the Giver. My compass began to point to something other than True North. And I followed along. As I began to drift off course a well intentioned friend asked me a hackneyed question; "If all your friends jumped off a bridge would you follow them?" "I don't know. Is there liquor and women at the bottom?"
What became a practice, the denial of my own beliefs, has been relatively simple to reverse; simple but not easy. It requires the practice and discipline of following my moral compass again. I have had to refocus my attention on what is, rather than what I would have things be. And I have had to re-examine my beliefs on physical and emotional pain.
Unexplained pain may direct my attention to an area of my life I have not acknowledged, something I may be afraid to know about myself or allow me to feel. It is regularly a cord that binds me to my integrity. Until I acknowledge that discomfort and its source I cannot know my own wholeness. What I believe about myself can then hold me hostage.
A wisdom from the Talmud teaches, "We do not see things as they are. We see them as we are." Time to take off the glasses.
Beyond comfort lies grace, mystery and adventure. I learned this early in my life, preferring a backpack to a Holiday Inn. In the rigors of extended treks with a short food supply I learned to test my mettle and developed an internal compass that was able to guide me; a moral compass. I learned that my own tendency to avoid the conventional allowed me to expand my consciousness - without the use of drugs. So what then happened?
In my experience, an accumulation of material goods created a shift in focus. I began to trust in the gifts and my ability to acquire them, rather than trust in the Giver. My compass began to point to something other than True North. And I followed along. As I began to drift off course a well intentioned friend asked me a hackneyed question; "If all your friends jumped off a bridge would you follow them?" "I don't know. Is there liquor and women at the bottom?"
What became a practice, the denial of my own beliefs, has been relatively simple to reverse; simple but not easy. It requires the practice and discipline of following my moral compass again. I have had to refocus my attention on what is, rather than what I would have things be. And I have had to re-examine my beliefs on physical and emotional pain.
Unexplained pain may direct my attention to an area of my life I have not acknowledged, something I may be afraid to know about myself or allow me to feel. It is regularly a cord that binds me to my integrity. Until I acknowledge that discomfort and its source I cannot know my own wholeness. What I believe about myself can then hold me hostage.
A wisdom from the Talmud teaches, "We do not see things as they are. We see them as we are." Time to take off the glasses.
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