I Am the Garbage and the Jewel

"If we have not set up the target, it cannot be hit by an arrow. This is to say that each time we retaliate with aggressive words and actions, we are strengthening the habit of anger."

These aren't my words, I wish they were. 

But these thoughts are:  How to I take part in conflict?  In what way do I play the target?  If someone casts an arrow at me, and I'm not playing at being a target, then there can be no game, no battle, just someone throwing arrows at an open heart.   But if I embody the target, then something in me is attracting arrows, and engaged in battle. 

Christmas before last, my aunt gave me the book, The Places That Scare You: A Guide to Fearlessness in Difficult Times, by Pema Chodron. You have to really know a person to give them a book like this. Otherwise, a person could really wonder what you think of their life (a scary place) and approach to it (full of fear). Luckily, she knows that I, too, believe that the way into a light and happy life (light of heart) is through the dark tunnel of emotions (and sometimes the other tunnel, or tunnels, beyond that). 

And dark tunnels are scary. 

The publisher was smart to print the book small (fits in your hands like a slim volume of poetry), and comes with a ribbon for marking your page (though I suggest Post-It notes and a highlighter, too) to offset the BIG, scary title. 

Pema Chodron is an American Buddhist nun who is the resident teacher at Grampo Abbey in Nova Scotia, which is the first Tibetan monastery in North America established for Westerners. She has a way of writing that is extremely accessible for non-Buddhists. While I'm not Buddhist, nor am I asking you to be, I have always found Buddhist literature eye-opening, heart-opening, and mind-opening, so if I had to choose a "religion," I'd pick it. 

I like this book because it speaks to the bravery involved in detaching from our old lives and selves. Because it explains how even the most trained people (those who practice Buddhist meditation) have to work at handling their troubling emotions bravely. Because she believes, as I do, that the only way out of the storm is through the eye. (The "I," perhaps!)  Because she acknowledges that we're all human, and we all have a chance--at any point--to transform. 

Pema got me thinking about how "ordinary" moments in life are, actually, spectacular moments, about how getting really, really quiet within my being (sitting outside sans mobile device) for even just 10 minutes observing life around me--whether that life is trees and cows or cars and people--is undeniably exciting.  She points out that we're distracted all day by our thoughts, and we don't really examine those thoughts or how they are functioning for (or against) us.  

About "peak experiences" she writes: 

Even though peak experiences might show us the truth and inform us about why we are training, they are essentially no big deal.  If we can't integrate them into the ups and downs of our lives, if we cling to them, they will hinder us. 

There's a lot to learn from understanding that sentiment for people who grew up under the drama and chaos of an alcoholic home in which emphasis is placed on appearances!  Does the award, or prize, or promotion, or major decision, or finish line matter "more" than the journey there?  Weren't you the same person along the way?  Are we asking others to regard us in terms of our achievements?  We're so achievement-focused in our culture, that being asked to consider achievement "ordinary" is a tough concept to appreciate.  

But it's an important concept to consider.  I mean, if I define myself by my peak experiences, or achievements, then what sort of regard do I have for myself on an average day -- with less regard?  It shouldn't be so.  While I believe deeply in work and purpose, if I put the most value on my peak experiences then I'm not appreciating all the living that I'm doing the rest of the time, which (ack!) is most of the time.   Understanding this concept (and remembering it tomorrow) is a great way to slow down and be in the moment, where happiness is truly sown. 

What's ordinary seems no longer ordinary but, instead, extraordinary.

There is so much wisdom in this little book; here's one more wise concept that I'll share--which seems in conflict with all that my blog stands for, or...does it? 

Trying to fix ourselves is not helpful.  It implies struggle and self-denigration.  Denigrating ourselves is probably the major way that we cover over bodhichitta [an enlightened, open heart].  Does not trying to change mean we have to remain angry and addicted until the day we die?  This is a reasonable question.  Trying to change ourselves doesn't work in the long run because we're resisting our own energy.  Self-improvement can have temporary results, but lasting transformation occurs only when we honor ourselves as the source of wisdom and compassion.

That doesn't mean we're off the hook for trying to improve our lives, nope; it means that we need to take care with how we work at improving our lives.  Don't try to become someone else, try to become you.  Pema goes on to explain why we shouldn't try to "cure" ourselves of ourselves, but rather to look into ourselves for the good:

We are...very much like a blind person who finds a jewel buried in a heap of garbage.  Right here in what we'd like to throw away, in what we find repulsive and frightening, we discover the warmth and clarity of bodhichitta [an enlightened, open heart].

We're the garbage and we're the jewel.  Get it?

I think it's worth giving this book a chance, even if you're intimidated by the Buddhism aspect -- it was certainly written for every human being who wants an open heart.  And with hope for the freedom that opening bestows.  

--ae 

Comments

[gina]

that is one of the most beautiful things I've read in a long time. The human heart knows all understanding, but only if we stop deceiving ourselves, stop masking who we are. she's right about letting go of our anger in order that we might stop struggling against ourselves. If we accept the source of wisdom and light that comes from our hearts then are are forced to grow, forced to see ourselves as we are and not be afraid of what is possible, what we are capable of. this has got to be the scariest "letting go" moment in the process of acoa recovery. I mean, afterall if our whole lives all we've ever known is anger then who are we if we strip ourselves of it and walk away from it?