The Delusion of Separation

Like many people, I struggle with the most profound delusion of all, the delusion of separation. 

And even though Albert Einstein reminds me again and again in his historic quotation:

A human being is a part of the whole called by us universe, a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feeling as something separated from the rest, a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest to us. Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty,

I've still found this delusion to be the toughest of all to fully get rid of in a single lifetime.

Having said that, I will add, I do try.

I do put in actual effort to challenge the feeling that I am separate.

I do this by intentionally noticing points of connection, similarity, interdependence, and on that rare occasion, interbeing.

Take this past weekend for example.

On Sunday I did one of my favorite activities which is putting in my vegetable garden.

Now, anytime I am dealing with plants and soil and water, it is all but impossible to not surrender to the theme of interdependence that runneth over in the natural world. 

But this year, I had an additional point of connection while I planted my tomatoes, lettuce and mint.  That connection was with Buddhist teacher and author Thich Nhat Hanh as I had just recently read this passage in his book The Sun My Heart (1988):

I don't know what job you do every day, but I do know that some tasks lend themselves to awareness more easily than others. Writing, for example, is difficult to do mindfully...That is why I have been doing more manual work and less writing these past few years. Someone said to me, 'Planting tomatoes and lettuce may be the gateway to everything, but not everyone can write books and stories and poems as well as you do. Please don't waste your time with manual work!' I have not wasted any of my time. Planting a seed, washing a dish, cutting the grass are as eternal, as beautiful, as writing a poem! I do not understand how a poem can be better than a peppermint plant. Planting seeds gives me as much pleasure as writing a poem. For me, a head of lettuce or a peppermint plant has as much everlasting effect in time and space as a poem.

The experience of holding these words, and this monastic, in my mind and heart while I mindfully placed each small plant into the ground was a complete antidote to my dis-ease of separation.

Another practice I enjoy that helps me work with this sense of disconnection, is to lead others in a guided meditation called "Just Like Me."

Have you tried this one?

I like to do this practice in small groups of patients or colleagues. 

It starts by asking each person in the group (including the group leader) to bring all of their attention to the person sitting to the left of them.  Then, each person is asked to silently consider for a moment all these qualities and experiences that she or he may share with the person sitting next to them.

Just like Me…
This person has a body and a mind, just like me.

This person has feelings, emotions and thoughts, just like me.

This person has in his or her life, experienced physical and emotional pain and suffering, just like me.

This person has at some point been sad, disappointed, angry, or hurt, just like me.
This person has felt unworthy or inadequate, just like me. 
This person worries and is frightened sometimes, just like me.
This person has longed for friendship, just like me.
This person is learning about life, just like me.
This person wants to be caring and kind to others, just like me.
This person wants to be content with what life has given, just like me.
This person wishes to be free from pain and suffering, just like me.

This person wishes to be safe and healthy, just like me.


This person wishes to be happy, just like me.

This person wishes to be loved, just like me. 

I've led this meditation many times, with a wide diversity of individuals, and it always surprises me every single time how overwhelmingly moving it is for me.  Something about the level of sincerity and integrity of the practice that seems to cut through all my many layers of separation and armor.

Sometimes though, unlike in a guided meditation or a purposeful activity, these moments of connection can seemingly come right out of the blue, and in those moments, my intention, my practice, is to just allow the mystery to unfold.

Take for example the moment I met my cat Billie.

 

It was August, 2010, and I was a brand new mother. I had just finished what turned out to be a very difficult  year of breastfeeding my new baby while returning to work full-time, and in that distinct window of time, the feeing of being alone was quite profound.

It was then, that I crossed paths with another new mother who came to be known as Billie. 

Billie was a rescue cat who had lived on the streets of a city for the first year and a half of her life- including while she was pregnant.  When we met, she was in the process of weaning her litter of kittens from her own mother's milk.

I can't explain why, but that chance meeting with Billie broke through all  of the barriers and blockades I had erected around me (some intentional, some unintentional) that had reinforced the power of the delusion of separation. I am so eternally grateful to her for that.

But, I hesitate to say, the delusion does persist.  Not as strongly to be sure--it used to feel like a veil of black tar all over my body, and now I would say it is more like a mosquito net--but still present nonetheless.

So, I will continue to practice. I will continue to intentionally notice those points of connection and interconnection that can cut through the myth that I am an island.

May it be so.