The Rarity of Human Life

I've been asking myself what can I contribute to the conversations surrounding Anthony Bourdain's and Kate Spade's suicides? Much has already been said about seeking help; how that's easier said than done what with costs and budget cuts; and instead of putting the onus on a depressed or suicidal person to reach out, to reach out when we see people struggling. I agree with all those things. And after reading an article in USA Today by Kirsten Powers about how we also have a cultural problem, I realize where I can contribute.

In her article, Powers asserts many people are struggling to find meaning and purpose in a society that values materialism. On top of that, many feel alone, isolated, and misunderstood. All of those factors play a part in suicide. I think the best thing I can do with this blogpost is to remind people, myself included, that we matter.

This picture makes sense once you read the next paragraph. Photo by Jack B on Unsplash.

According to a Buddhist text, one day the Buddha spoke to a group of monks. He said, “Monks, suppose that this great Earth were totally covered with water and a man were to toss a yoke with a single hole into the water. A wind from the west would push it east; a wind from the east would push it west; a wind from the north would push it south; a wind from the south would push it north. And suppose a blind sea turtle were there. It would come to the surface only once every 100 years.

Now what do you suppose the chances would be that a blind turtle, coming once to the surface every 100 years, would stick its neck into the yoke with a single hole?” And the monks answered, “It would be very unusual, sir, that a blind turtle coming to the surface once every 100 years would stick its neck into the yoke.” And the Buddha replied, “And just so, it is very, very rare that one attains the human state.”

That's pretty incredible if you think about it, and it reminds me my life is precious. That I'm even alive in human form is like winning the lottery. I'm further reminded of this because I know several people who struggle with infertility. Conceiving a child is not as easy as it may seem. In fact, in my own family, my parents tried to get pregnant for three years before my brother came along.

I also think about how both Kate Spade and Anthony Bourdain impacted people. The number of tweets, articles, and facebook comments from people mourning their deaths is staggering. No one exists in a vacuum. Everyone will be missed by someone, including a pet, when they die. That means your life, my life, it matters. It has worth and value and merit. It is not without meaning or purpose even if sometimes it feels that way. I don't know a lot of things, but I know we are all loved and we all matter.

I dream of a world where we realize how precious and rare our lives are. A world where we feel into how much we matter, how much we are loved. A world where we realize we impact people, sometimes without our knowledge. A world where we know when we die, we will be missed.

Another world is not only possible, it's probable.

Allowing Anger in Spirituality

I've burned with anger this week, both from occurrences in my personal world and in our society. Anger shows up to say, “This is not OK,” and there are many things I'm not OK with. I know every spiritual teacher, including mine, says it's important to cultivate non-anger, that we shouldn't allow anger to overtake us, and on one level I agree. On another, I don't.

I am a human being, not a robot, and that means every feeling under the sun I've felt, including anger. For me to not feel angry would be an act of suppression and repression. It wouldn't be real. If I pretended anger never coursed through me, I'd become a passive doormat OK with anything and everything that happened to me. Anger gives me agency. It demonstrates in a visceral way what's important to me. Anger, like all emotions, acts as a messenger.

Fiery anger is also allowed. Photo by raquel raclette on Unsplash.

I also think about how my spiritual teacher behaved, not only what he said. In practice, he became angry when someone lied, cheated, stole, or disregarded a directive. At the same time, someone else could lie, cheat, steal, or disobey, and he would smile and laugh. Spiritual teachers are complicated and obviously understand every person and situation is different and requires a different response. However, his behavior demonstrates to me he wasn't attached to anger. Anger could flare up but it could also dissipate easily. One minute he could rage against someone and as soon as they showed contrition, he would soften and shower the person with love. He wasn't attached to anger, but it still showed up. I mention all this because it's clear to me anger is a tool that everyone uses.

When I think of my spiritual teacher, I see he used anger with finesse, which is also something I'm learning. If I keep anger locked away in a drawer somewhere, when it comes time to use it, I may hurt myself or those around me because I'm clumsy and inexperienced. I wouldn't let a toddler handle a knife until they developed more dexterity, and that's what I think is happening with me right now. I'm becoming more dexterous with anger so I may wield it appropriately as the situation allows.

I also want to express I have a theory as to why spiritual teachers talk about cultivating peace instead of anger. It's easy to get stuck in a rageful place, to hold a grudge. People become angry, spiteful, and bitter all the time. By not fanning the flames of anger on a macro level, spiritual teachers are pointing us toward subtler emotions, such as love. I'm reminded though, you can be angry at someone you love. That love is big enough to hold anger as well. And expressing anger is sometimes the most loving thing a person can do.

I dream of a world where we allow the expression of anger in a healthy way, even in spiritual circles. A world where we understand anger is a tool in our toolbox and it's important for us to learn how to use it. A world where we express anger to the degree a situation calls for, and then let it go when it's time.

Another world is not only possible, it's probable.

Ascribing Meaning

This week I've been ascribing meaning to things that don't need to have them. For instance, my face is broken out and the meaning I'm ascribing is I'm ugly, unattractive, and will remain single for the rest of my life. Because of a zit. I do the same thing whenever I gain any weight. Really, what it means is I'm stressed, not sleeping well, eating something I'm allergic to, and/or imbalanced hormonally.

I bring this up because how often do we torture ourselves by ascribing meaning to things when they're not needed? Someone not accepting a friend request on facebook means they hate us and don't want to be friends. When we haven't heard back from a job interview it means the position has been filled. In truth, someone not accepting a friend request means they didn't accept a friend request. Not hearing back from a job interview means the company hasn't gotten back to us. That's it. Not that we're terrible people who will never be hired again or any of the other things we think it means.

This person is a cool, confident, world traveler. Oh wait, I can't know any of that. . .

I touched on this a few weeks ago in my post “All in the Head,” about anxiety. However, I'm also noticing ascribing meaning to things sometimes doesn't create anxiety. Sometimes it's a lie or a way to create melodrama.

Yesterday, I heard spiritual teacher/writer Adyashanti and he said we're addicted to the stories we tell ourselves, whether they're painful or not. Ain't that the truth. It wasn't until this week though that I became even more aware of how I'm spinning out and getting upset over small things because I'm making them large by ascribing meaning to them. A zit is no longer an indication of stress, but instead becomes a sign that I'm doomed to a life of spinsterhood. Weight gain suddenly means I'm unlovable. These are quite big leaps!

When we start to ascribe meaning to things, we get wrapped up in our selves, our egoic nature, and are unable to rest in the knowledge that we are the Buddha, as Adyashanti would say. Ascribing meaning I think is like cobwebs in the attic – if we don't address them, pretty soon the attic is covered in cobwebs and that's all we see anymore. When I ascribe meaning to things, I detach from reality and keep myself from being present, and really, I'd much rather be the Buddha.

I dream of a world where we stop ascribing meaning to things that don't need them. A world where we keep things in perspective. A world where we detach from the addictive stories we tell ourselves. A world where we allow ourselves to be the Buddha.

Another world is not only possible, it's probable.