And unfortunately, this dis-eased mind state, moves me toward old own primal instincts to crawl up and into every “false refuge” that western Buddhist teacher Tara Brach reminds us to train ourselves out of.
So instead, as I dropped off my own children at their designated schools yesterday and today, with my chest tight and my heart pounding, I merely said a silent prayer that they may be safe and protected, and I proceeded to work.
For me, this was one step out of false refuge, in order to shift my direction toward "true refuge."
But I want to go further.
I want to understand how the 10,000 joys and the 10,000 sorrows can possibly coexist in our paradoxically fragile, yet resilient, human lives.
Listen to most dharma talks or read books and interviews by western Buddhist teacher and author (and PhD clinical psychologist) Jack Kornfield, and at some point he will refer to the 10,000 joys and the 10,000 sorrows .
In an interview with The Huffington Post in 2014, Mr. Kornfield said:
We’ve been given the extraordinary privilege of incarnating as human beings — and of course the human incarnation entails the 10,000 joys and 10,000 sorrows, as it says in the Tao Te Ching — but with it we have the privilege of the lavender color at sunset, the taste of a tangerine in our mouth, and the almost unbearable beauty of life around us, along with its troubles. It keeps recreating itself.
The Tao Te Ching Mr. Kornfield refers to in this statement, is an ancient Chinese text which is estimated to have been written in the 6th century BCE, and is comprised of 81 short verses that represent the basis for the philosophy and religion of Taoism.
This text, most often attributed by historians to a Chinese man named Laozi (also known as Lao-Tzu)though there is debate about this, the breathtaking wisdom that comes from each verse of the Tao Te Ching is worth your attention.
I find it helpful to read just one verse at a time in order to let its essence really penetrate me.
Lately though, I find myself just contemplating over and over what a tall order it is to actually ask the human psyche and the human heart to hold so much beauty and so much tragedy in one single lifetime at the same time.
Some examples from my own life.
When I was 12 years-old I was in a bad accident that landed me in the hospital with some pretty severe internal bleeding, and it looked like I was going to have to have surgery. I was terrified.
I was also alone. Neither of my parents or other family members were with me.
The doctors decided to observe me overnight, and make a decision about surgery in the morning.
Of course under those circumstances, I did no sleeping that night- with my vitals being checked every hour and my nerves being through the roof, so what I did instead was talk to Julie.
Julie was the 11 p.m. to 7 a.m. nurse covering me that night, and she kept me company.
But she did so much more than keep me company.
She reassured me. She comforted me. She was kind to me.
You know that very famous Dr. Maya Angelou quote:
I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.
Yes.
I remember how Julie made me feel (safe and protected) when I was also scared, sad and alone.
10,000 Joys & 10,000 Sorrows.
Of course since that time (and before) there have been many other examples where life juxtaposed joy and sorrow at the same time.
Like when my best friend of 10 years ended our relationship at the same time I started to date my boyfriend turned husband.
Like losing my stepdad to AIDS in the first month of my freshman year of college.
Like having a family member take an overdose in the same month I got married.
It is, of course, also difficult to hold the dialectic of having horrific national or international tragedies occur during our most joyful moments.
Like watching the chaos and death of Hurricane Katrina in August, 2005 on the television during my honeymoon. Or learning I was finally pregnant on the same day of the Boston Marathon Bombing.
10,000 Joys & 10,000 Sorrows.
As I was doing a little bit of internet research for this entry, I encountered a 2008 book I had not been previously familiar with called: Ten Thousand Joys & Ten Thousand Sorrows: A Couple's Journey Through Alzheimer's, and I almost immediately thought to myself: That makes total sense.
As I've written before, my father-in-law has early-onset Alzheimer's Disease, and now with his more advanced symptoms, each time I share a laugh with him or he takes me in for a big hug (he's a huge hugger!), I feel the whole complexity of all that joy, and all that sorrow, all at once.
In the same 2014 Huffington Post interview, the journalist asked Mr. Kornfield:
It’s easier for us to feel grateful for
things that make us happy and that make life easy for us. But how do we learn
to be grateful for life’s '10,000 sorrows'?
Mr. Kornfield responded by saying:
I remember my meditation master in the
jungles of Thailand who would ask at times, Where have you learned more
compassion? Where have you learned more? Where has your heart grown wiser — in
just having good times, or going through difficulties? There’s a Buddhist-oriented
therapy in Japan called Naikan Therapy, and one part of that training is to
review your life and begin to remember all the things you have gratitude
towards, even the things that were difficult and taught you lessons. Or even the
people that were difficult, sometimes in your own family — [remembering] the
gratitude you have for family, that they’re even there.
Well, for me, that may be advanced practice spiritual training that is beyond my kindergarten level of spiritual development at this time.
[Though, I must say, it makes sense.]
So for now, the true refuge I'm relying on the most as I try to hold these 10,000 joys and 10,000 sorrows is, as they say, an oldie but a goodie: the famous Ram Das phrase Be Here Now.
Be Here Now for the good, the bad, and the ugly.
I have been absorbing these words, and it's message of mindfulness, by listening (and re-listening) to the Ray LaMontagne song "Be Here Now."
I have been absorbing these words, and it's message of mindfulness, by listening (and re-listening) to the Ray LaMontagne song "Be Here Now."
The song is just over 6 minutes, has beautiful but minimalist lyrics, and has been the perfect refuge to wholeheartedly absorb the news of another mass shooting in our country.
I hope that you can find your own true refuge as well.
May it be so.
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