i was talking to a mama friend last night and realized something. (yes, this is my super morbidly intense phase...i'm hoping if i don't fight it, i'll move past it soon....everyone cross your fingers...i even have my toes crossed)
anyway, i was thinking about how there is something weirdly "comforting" about thoughts that are generally negative...anger, hurt, resentment, insecurity. i was working through some of those feelings last night, and i told my friend that i was realizing i needed to not hold on to those feelings...be justified by them, defined by them. that normally, as counter intuitive as it is, i'd grab ahold of those nasty feelings, stroke them, feed them milk...anything to keep them near. because somewhere deep down, i guess i find them comforting because they justify not doing things that may involve risk...not taking a chance...not making myself "vulnerable". they feed that illusion that i'm in control because i'm not going to take a risk and therefore i'm "safe," even though i'm sad and miserable.
but i can let those feelings go. i can feel them but refuse to be identified by them. i really can. i've tried it and it worked. it was....so nice. of course i'm still waiting, in some small part of myself, to find out if really i'm just screwing it up and this is all a figment of my imagination. but maybe if i stay focused in the now, i can make the illusion last forever...
i had a good day today. got a flat tire, got it fixed, drove home on the doughnut. met with the cooperative mamas, made some decisions, set the next meeting date. watched the children, really watched them, smiled a lot, felt good. getting ready to make some bread, try making homemade mozzarella, some other good food. looking forward to the weekend.
left foot, right foot, breathe...
thank you, thank you, thank you....
peace
Friday, May 30, 2008
hurt
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Buddha was sitting under a tree talking to his disciples. A man came and spit on his face. He wiped it off, and he asked the man, do you have something you want to say? The man was a little puzzled because he himself never expected that when you spit on somebody's face, he will ask, do you have something to say? He had no such experience in his past. He had insulted people and they had become angry and they had reacted. Or if they were cowards and weaklings, they had smiled, trying to bribe the man. But Buddha was like neither, he was not angry nor in any way offended, nor in any way cowardly. But just matter-of-factly he said, do you have something you want to say? There was no reaction on his part.
Buddha's disciples became angry, they reacted. His closest disciple, Ananda, said, "This is too much, and we cannot tolerate it. He has to be punished for it. Otherwise everybody will start doing things like this."
Buddha said, "You keep silent. He has not offended me, but you are offending me. He is new, a stranger. He must have heard from people something about me, that this man is an atheist, a dangerous man who is throwing people off their track, a revolutionary, a corrupter. And he may have formed some idea, a notion of me. He has not spit on me, he has spit on his notion, he has spit on his idea of me. Because he does not know me at all, so how can he spit on me?
If you think on it deeply, Buddha said, he has spit on his own mind. I am not part of it, and I can see that this poor man must have something else to say because this is a way of saying something. Spitting is a way of saying something. There are moments when you feel that language is impotent in deep love, in intense anger, in hate, in prayer. There are intense moments when language is impotent. Then you have to do something. When you are angry, intensely angry, you hit the person, you spit on him, you are saying something. I can understand him. He must have something more to say, that’s why I asked him, do you have something you want to say?
The man was even more puzzled! And Buddha said to his disciples, I am more offended by you because you know me, and you have lived for years with me, and still you react.
Puzzled, confused, the man returned home. He could not sleep the whole night. When you see a Buddha, it is difficult, impossible; to sleep again the way you used to sleep before. Again and again he was haunted by the experience. He could not explain it to himself, what had happened. He was trembling all over and perspiring. He had never come across such a man; it shattered his whole mind and his whole pattern, his whole past.
The next morning he was back there. He threw himself at Buddha's feet. Buddha asked him again, do you have something you want to say? This, too, is a way of saying something that cannot be said in language. When you come and touch my feet, you are saying something that cannot be said ordinarily, for which all words are a little narrow; it cannot be contained in them. Buddha said, "Look, Ananda, this man is again here, he is saying something. This man is a man of deep emotions.
The man looked at Buddha and said, "Forgive me for what I did yesterday."
Buddha said, Forgive? But I am not the same man to whom you did it. The Ganges goes on flowing, it is never the same Ganges again. Every man is a river. The man you spit upon is no longer here "I look just like him, but I am not the same, much has happened in these twenty-four hours! The river has flowed so much. So I cannot forgive you because I have no grudge against you.
And you also are new. I can see you are not the same man who came yesterday because that man was angry! He spit, whereas you are bowing at my feet, touching my feet. How can you be the same man? You are not the same man, so let us forget about it. Those two people the man who spit, and the man on whom he spit, both are no more. Come closer. Let us talk of something else.
This was Buddha's response.
I liken this to Jesus turning the other cheek. Jesus did for the Greater Glory. Where as Buddha saw the nonduality of the offender and offended.
glad to have you around ken, sharing your deep and abundant wisdom. :)
this is a beautiful story and i'll be thinking about it for a loooong time. thanks for sharing!
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