Terror

When I try to imagine people so caught up in their sense of righteousness, so filled with intolerance and hatred of “the others”, that they are capable of murdering in cold blood for an ideal, it terrifies me.

And when I try to imagine how intolerance and hatred simply breeds more intolerance and hatred, keeping mankind imprisoned in a chain reaction, a spiral of violence and terror that seems to have no end, it terrifies me even more.

This evening a memory popped into my head: during a performance of Béla Bartók’s Concerto for Orchestra, my mother turned to me and whispered, “Can you hear the world crying?” During the past 24 hours I have heard the world crying.

I want to turn my face away, forget that it’s happening, hug my loved ones, and contemplate the beauty of a single flower in the early morning sunlight.

I think that many of us feel this way. It’s almost too much horror to take in. I can only feel anguish and despair… and this incredible terror… for the world.

Others react with anger. Powerless anger, blindly seeking an outlet. And there are those who do turn their faces away in helpless denial.

The only thing I can do is to allow myself to feel the anguish, allow myself to hear the world crying. As I close my eyes, I see people torn apart with grief and unbelief. I see fists clenched in rage and powerlessness. I see a mother weeping over her dead son, screaming out to her God, how could he allow this to happen? I see a father, bowed with grief, because he knows that his God does not want this, this terror that his son is a part of.

I breathe all this in, trying to take it into my heart, crying for the world. And I breathe out gentle compassion, sending loving kindness to all of us who need it. I repeat this over and over again. This is a Buddhist practice called tonglen. Is it sufficient to heal the world? Probably not. But it’s the only thing I can do that makes any sense to me.

The most important thing we can remember is to allow ourselves to feel the distress. Don't push it away or block it. Keep feeling.

Letting go

The osprey season at Hog Island in Maine has almost drawn to a close. The three chicks all flew from the nest and are living nearby, learning to perfect their flying and fishing skills. Next month they will undertake the long migration flight to South America. We, who watch regularly, know that we will probably see the parents back next year with a new nest. But the chicks, whom we have been studying avidly for the past three-four months, will disappear out of our lives for good.

Some of the 2000+ viewers are already feeling the pang of the empty nest. On the chat, where information, screen captures, and sightings are exchanged, people report tears and an empty feeling. We joke about osprey addiction and withdrawal symptoms, empty nest syndrome, etc. What has happened, is that people became deeply attached to the family life of these birds. This connection was very strong and filled a need for many people. And now they have to let go.

In the Buddhist tradition, attachment is the root of all suffering. And learning to let go of that which you are attached to, is the key to a life without suffering. It took me a very long time to understand and accept this principle. How can I not feel attached to those I love? And this is the crux: can you learn to love without the attachment?

Attachment means that you can no longer live happily if that person/animal/object vanishes from your life. We can also be attached to our life style, our profession, our relatives, our pets, our home… and it is good to appreciate these things. But not to make our happiness depend on them.

We are, at least I am, extremely attached to our children and grandchildren. No grief is bigger than having to mourn the loss of one of these precious people. But being able to let that grief go will not diminish the love that we feel… have always felt… for them.

I try not to say things like this when someone shares their sorrow at the osprey chicks leaving the nest. But observing these reactions was the inspiration for this blog. So here’s to the Hog Island Osprey chicks, who are teaching so many people to let go, with love.

Laughter

A very dear friend of mine has the gift of making me laugh when I’m feeling upset. Not by not taking me seriously. He does, he first dives in and resonates with my emotion, showing me his understanding of it, holding space for me while I express it. And then, gradually, he brings in soft, gentle silliness… the clown who offers me his bunny slippers as comfort. And I start giggling, taken out of myself and into the world. The world that always carries joy in it, no matter what private sorrow is breaking our hearts.

And this, I think, is the function of laughter. To allow us to touch the joy, no matter how briefly, as a reminder that the world - life, the universe - is full of joy. Even the very darkest parts of it, even those are filled with dark, sparkling joy.

In Buddhism, laughter is said to be one of the strongest medicines against negative thoughts. You cannot cling to the past or future and laugh at the same time. It keeps you in the moment.

Laughter, like hugging, produces the right kind of hormones in our bodies to counterbalance the effects of stress and sorrow.

But laughter that is used as a mask, to try and block our negative feelings, will only increase the stress. You can feel the difference. Laughter from tension can feel helpless, not being able to stop laughing, maybe even turning to tears. After the laughter subsides, the tension will still be there, under the mask.

Real laughter will give you a sense of release, of being able to let go. It may also turn into tears, when the ‘letting go’ becomes powerful. Like water streaming over a dam. You may feel relieved or grateful. Whatever was giving you pain or sorrow, will have retreated to a place that no longer affects you as strongly as it did. Yes, it will still be there. But you can observe it without it overwhelming you.

When was the last time laughter healed you?

Images to accompany this blog

p.s. I will be traveling for the next week or two and have found that not to be the best time to try and work on the blog. So be patient, I will get back to it!