“So even if the hot loneliness is there, and for 1.6 seconds we sit with that restlessness when yesterday we couldn’t sit for even one, that’s the journey of the warrior.” — Pema Chodron
Last night I had a dream that something stressful was happening. Within the dream, I fell asleep and saw a Shakespearean scene unfolding that echoed the dramatic themes I felt in the original dream (no, I had not watched Inception before bed). I of course thought the dream was real and became completely enveloped within the scenes. I then “woke up”, and saw that the situation was of no importance. Some silly everyday encounter. I heard a voice say: “Are you ready to let go of the drama?” And then I really woke up.
The drama unfolding in my life today feels extremely real. The uncertainty of the world amidst a pandemic, my nerves as to what being a doctor will be like in a few months, especially during this time. The stresses of selling a house, moving into an apartment, and setting up life in a new city.
But amidst all of this, I think of those dying, of losing family members due to COVID-19. I think of those losing their livelihood, businesses, food, and homes due to the economic depression. I wake up a little. I hear about a black man named Ahmaud Arbery who was murdered by white men in Georgia while going for a jog. I wake up a heck of a lot more.
I see flashes in my mind of all of the horrors and trauma that are happening, have happened, and will happen around the world. It feels almost like a zooming out, little by little, causing me to see my own dramas as insignificant and instead feel broken in half by the immense pain of the world. At the same time I take comfort in the perspective of the Dalai Lama, words I read in a book once but have had trouble finding since. To paraphrase (from the way I remember reading it), he was looking out a window while an interviewer asked him about the suffering of the Tibetan people. While acknowledging the immense pain brought upon his people, he did not currently feel sad, because he was looking out a window at beautiful scenery.
Perhaps life is a constant flux between zooming in and out. We do not turn a blind eye to the pain and suffering of the world, and we work very hard to change it. When confronted with something horrible, we allow the pain/anger to move within and through us. However, we do not hold these feelings prisoner inside of us by building bars around them with our minds. We allow the feelings to do the job they are meant to—prompt us into action. But we do not forget the lesson from the Dalai Lama. We remember to zoom in on our exact present moment. Here, there is likely something beautiful, something peaceful calling to us. The present moment has no anxiety about the future or regret of the past. It may hold pain, which we allow to reside within us for only as long as it would like to take up residence. We sit in the hot loneliness. We do not fight it, and we do not cling to it when a moment of joy or peace calls to us.
Most of the time when I feel moments of joy, timelessness, utter peace, my body responds reflexively with a shot of adrenaline and cortisol. If I feel at peace, it must be because I have forgotten about some “threat” that needs my immediate attention. That, or I feel guilty for being happy when there is so much pain in the world. Hence, I write the above words mostly for myself, with the hope that they ring true for someone else as well.
This morning, I woke up stressed because of our current life situation. Heartbroken for Ahmaud Arbery. Restless, uneasy. After attempting to meditate (to no avail), I made a decision to cook myself a nourishing breakfast. My first instinct was to reach for the TV, or my current audiobook. All of a sudden, I heard Pema Chodron’s words in my head. It took immense effort for me to be in the silence this morning and do nothing but cook, and then eat. I tuned in. I sat in the hot loneliness. In the unrest. It did not feel good. After finishing breakfast, I felt an urge to run to my computer, sit down, and write. This is what came out. Thank you, hot loneliness, for allowing me the opportunity to look the unrest in the eye, and find it to be nothing more than a dream. Now, time to call Gov. Kemp’s office and demand justice for Ahmaud.