When you don’t have the answers

Some thoughts prompted somewhat by celebrating a birthday, the passing of time, and another poem by Mary Oliver.  A lot of the time I do not have answers to the questions that arise in me or to why things have happened. But increasingly, as the poet describes, I do not dwell too long on them as they have a capacity to stir up discontent. I prefer now not to try to put names or words on my journey, but to keep my heart moving towards an interior openness, or, in the image the poem uses,  to walk in an unnamed broad field. To let in space and the vastness of the world. All I can do is open up; what happens afterwards is not within my control. I will just try to welcome it. Life is an adventure, that continually surprises. Its joy and freshness lie there.

How did it come to be
that I am no longer young
and the world that keeps time

in its own way has just been born?
I don’t have the answers
and anyway I have become suspicious

of such questions,
and as for hope, that tender advisement,
even that

I’m going to leave behind.
I’m just going to put on
my jacket, my boots,
I’m just going to go out

to sleep all this night
in some unnamed, flowered corner
of the pasture.

An anxiety about being

Not holding on is tough to do because we are not honest a lot of the time which is because of fear –  the fear of losing our self-image. The social pressure to get ahead and win is so ingrained that we are anxious about failure.

This anxiety about doing becomes an anxiety about being,  because in a driven life, doing is being: you’re supposed to be doing and you are assessed by it.

Ajahn Sucitto

A practical way for working with strong emotions

Dense and intense emotional reactions can leave us feeling lost and overwhelmed. In these darkest moments, the practice is to bring awareness to the center of the chest, breathing the painful emotions, via the inbreath, directly into the heartspace. It’s as if we were breathing the swirling physical sensation right into the heart. Then, on the outbreath, we simply exhale. We are not trying to do or change anything; we’re simply allowing our heart center to become a wider container of awareness within which to experience distress.

Ezra Bayda, Being Zen

The choices we make, each day

We create ourselves by our choices.

Kierkegaard

To a heart, full of hesitations

When today you have doubts and fears, why not follow the advice in this Mary Oliver poem. To look at nature all around you –  the buds beginning to appear, the early flowers blooming – and see there a support for your inner self.

Oh, my dear heart,
My own dear heart,
Full of hesitations,
Questions, choice of directions,

Look at the world.
Behold the morning glory,
the meanest flower,
the ragweed, the thistle.
Look at the grass.

Mary Oliver, The Singular and Cheerful Life

Facing ourselves in our relationships

Each day, as we grow older, we are challenged to live as the person we would like to be. This is not always easy when we are stressed or we are hurt or let down. And also we can, at times, choose selfishness rather than genuine care for others. And what I increasingly notice is how much of our behaviour has it roots in fear.

The places where these fears are most often activated is in relationships with others. Frequently we instinctively act in defensive ways to protect our hearts. Relationships have the capacity to trigger our deepest fears, which often reflect patterns established in our childhood. I notice this when a strong emotional reaction is triggered, and automatic,  deeply believed – often fearful – thoughts dominate, which are very easy to take as the truth. Normally my first move is to maximize distance in order to protect myself and act as if the other person is a threat to the security of my deepest self.  Relationships open our hearts and expose our needs. Sometimes we clearly feel that is not safe. And when that happens we all follow some strategy to escape feeling the fears that silently run our life.

However, the truth about relationships is that they reflect closely our relationship with ourselves and reveal a lot about the clarity or confusion in our inner life. In fact our relationships with others can never be better than the relationship we have with ourselves. We often project on to the other what is going on inside ourselves, often what we are unable to manage properly, and this is at the root of our fears, and the reason they are so strong. Thus we can blame the other for confusion which is actually inside ourselves.

I have noticed this often in myself recently. Therefore I am now trying, when strong fears are triggered, to turn towards them and let them in, looking on them as a ‘what’ instead of as ‘me’. Instead of running story lines of anger and blame, I try and just stay with the original feeling of hurt. Even if the fear triggered is strong, if I manage to do this soon afterwards, I notice the fear loses its power quickly and a more open response can emerge. The fear can thus becomes a teacher, hopefully leading to understanding rather than paralyzing.

Fear tells us to stop, to stay within the boundary of our protected cocoon-world. Yet when we feel fear, if we take even one small step toward it rather than yielding to our habitual pulling away, we move one step closer to the vast mind that lies beyond. When we feel fear instead of saying ‘I’m afraid,’ thus reinforcing our identification with our fear as who we are, we can simply say, ‘Fear is present.’  Thus fear’s power gradually dissipates, and we begin to free ourselves from it. When we simply experience fear just as it is — without our opinions, judgments, and reactions — fear is not nearly so frightening.

Ezra Bayda, Saying Yes to Life (Even the Hard Parts)