When is enough, enough? This came up a while back in conversation around capitalism. It seems that there is no limit to profit, which makes any profit never enough. But what about friends, love, laughter, company, pleasure? When is enough, enough? When does anything cross over from something to be grateful for to something to be resented because it’s never enough?
You’d think with over a decade of studies in eastern philosophies I’d know the answer, and part of me maybe does. But so many parts still don’t. And I can watch myself, that I’ve learned well, precipitating into cravings I recognize without a shade of doubt as escapist addiction.
One of my students in jail once told me “addiction is addiction is addiction: you wanting to be here is as much a drug as the shit that brought me in”.
Crutches. Enough.
Thanksgiving
“Suffering and pain are just part of life”, he said. His father was a violent man who ended up shooting himself in front of my student and his family, when he was 9 years old. He’s a pacifist now, and believes that violence is unnecessary while pain is something you need to become resilient. “Pain is like the pupils in our eyes”, another one chimes in: “looks like a black hole but it makes all the colors that we see”. What is he thankful for today? He’s thankful for his pain. It shows him the way. “Happy thanksgiving!” We laughed, as I left “Enjoy your suffering!”.
nurturing life
Content Warning: suicide
When I was 17, and looked approximately like this, I had a friend, who I also slept with, but can hardly call a boyfriend, who told me he had Hepatitis C. When I asked him what he was going to do about it, and about his lifestyle that had brought it on, he said “This is my life. I chose it. Maybe I’ll regret it one day, but for now, this is who I am.” We were sitting on the street outside a bar, late at night and I felt this moment of realization, that really seeing him meant also letting him go. He died less than a year after that night.
Sitting with ideas of “nurturing life” and “not killing” got me thinking that maybe we avoid killing not because we respect the intrinsic value of someone/something, but because we fear the consequences. And when we take killing into a more wide meaning, things like interrupting or not listening to someone, or avoiding our own emotions, or holding a boundary that is painful to hold, are we nurturing life when we avoid these kinds of killing? And when a loved one decides to die, are we nurturing their life by seeing their suffering fully and allowing them to make a decision, or are we contributing in killing them? Seeing the hurt we create and taking responsibility for it, or allowing suffering to exist without trying to fix it, is that nurturing life?
emotional napping
I just gave naps as homework to my student. They’ve been going through so many emotions and changes, exhaustion is catching up. We talk about the physiology of emotions, how important it is to notice the body’s reaction and sensations because all emotions start in the body. But we forget sometimes that because all emotions are physiological events, they take metabolic energy: it literally takes effort and energy to create and sustain them, and the bigger the emotions, the more effort. And the bigger the fight we put up against them, the more energy we need. Or the longer we attach to them instead of letting them transform, the harder we need to work. Let’s face it: last weekend was emotional for many and this week, well, let’s just say it’s not gonna be easy. If you feel tired, you’re not alone. But if you can look for the moments of change, the ebbs and flow of effort and release, maybe you can also keep up the fight.
self-holding
Rules are not boundaries. Duty is not commitment. And even knowing everything doesn’t replace the sweet holding of connection. I feel support as an inherently relational practice: it is an exchange, a giving and receiving of weight, and strength, and vulnerability. And the thing with all of these is you don’t just know them, you experience them. So we practice listening in and listening out, to be able to hold rather than hold back.
I am quite honestly really nervous about this winter. Yet, I’ve always been fascinated by the restraints of monastic and contemplative lives, by the solitude of chosen aloneness, by the self holding they show, within the support of a structured practice or belief. How to bring that into social engagement and relationship is, maybe, one of my biggest questions.