Monday, January 22, 2018

Suffering: What is the Point?


I have been thinking lately about suffering and why we suffer. It’s not a new question. It’s one humans have wrestled with for eons.
I’ve had fibromyalgia and painful knee and back injuries for 35 years, stemming from an auto accident. I feel pain every day. But it is minor in comparison to the emotional and physical pain some of my friends endure, such as the loss of a loved one, cancer, or degenerative diseases. Then, there is the pain of professional failure, job loss, or public humiliation. Some experience poverty, debt and even homelessness. Some struggle with depression or other mental illness. Really, none of us can escape some form of loss, pain and suffering in our lives.

Why must we suffer?

I can’t say that I’ve come up with any definitive answer, but I have kind of changed the question to, “What is suffering doing for me?” Meaning, what can I learn from it?
Richard Rohr, in his book Falling Upwards says that we must suffer and “fall” in order to have a chance at moving upwards spiritually. Death and resurrection are not new concepts. Nature itself reflects this reality.

Physical suffering has taught me compassion, patience, the importance of rest and care for my body, to meditate, to exercise, to stretch. It has taught me to slow down (a bit!).  I have learned to sit with pain and listen to it and be present for it. I can decide not to let it rule my life. I can connect with other people to help me cope.

But, its negative energy also has the potential to teach me bitterness, complaint, resentment and anger. I can eat compulsively, drink and/or abuse pain medicine to try to relieve it. I can lash out at others. I can isolate.

I have choices in how to respond to suffering.

I have wondered if one reason our society is in an epidemic of drug, alcohol and food abuse is that we do not teach our children (and we have not been taught) how to deal with suffering. We shield them from losses and disappointments. We do not teach them about death or let them participate in processing the pain of loss. In some cases, we don’t even teach them that they cannot always have what they want, when they want it. Or we teach them they are the center of the universe and it revolves around their needs. We teach the illusion that life is fair and can be perfect and that we can be happy all the time.

No wonder people self-medicate to escape suffering! How would they know how to cope?

Over the past year, I have watched a friend go through an unbelievable amount of suffering with the most amazing attitude and self-care. She has gone to support groups, found spiritual help, used healing arts, and reached out to friends. She is suffering, but she is doing it in a way that allows her to journey through the dark night to a place of grace. What an inspiration!

I wish us all such a path of “good suffering”.


Wednesday, January 3, 2018

On Being Special


Some people are sadly burdened with having been told they are worthless.  I have the opposite problem. 

From an early age, I was told I was special.  A precocious and reflective child, who read four years above my grade level, I was ‘superior’ to others my age. My dad says I wasn’t really ever a child. I was a small adult. And, as the oldest of three children, I also felt responsible for everything.

Then, when I was eight, my parents became involved with a radical left-wing religious group that thought of itself as changing the world. While there was a lot of good in it, including work toward civil rights, it was also a cult in which you were either with us and saving the whole world or you were basically just one of the unconscious sheep. There was a constant drumbeat about my responsibility to be one of the God-chosen elite who would bend history.

The leader of this organization often told me I was special.  I had long theological conversations with adults at the age of 12.  I taught religious courses at the age of 15. I was important.  I was called to change the world.

During this time, I also was starving, like most of the kids who had been dragged into this strange institution.  Food was bad, often burned, and there was never enough of it.  We ate powdered milk and powdered eggs.  I learned to steal and hoard food wherever I could, and to stuff myself if we happened to have a treat. And, thus, the seeds of my addiction were planted.

Fast forward to adulthood, and finally getting so burned out that my husband and I left.  I was physically and emotionally drained. It took a lot of counseling to begin to recover, and I started learning to take the world off my shoulders. When I told my pastor that I felt guilty I wasn’t changing the world, he said, “Sometimes it’s enough to just change the baby’s diaper!” What a gift that counsel was!

But, to this day, I struggle with feeling I should be doing something bigger, better, bolder, wiser, and with more impact.  I am “special”!  It’s my responsibility!

Thank God for Overeaters Anonymous and the 12 steps. With the help of my Higher Power, I am learning that I’m just another bozo on the bus, neither above nor below others. This is a lesson I have to learn every day, one day at a time.  My job is just to be of service to others. Self-centeredness and ego-driven self-aggrandizement is one of the many character defects that I turn over to my Higher Power. Day by day, and very slowly, I’ve gained humility.  I DO see the fruits, although I also see that there is vast potential for many more days of miracles ahead of me!

The beautiful gift of understanding that I’m loved as I am, but I’m not loved any more or less than anyone else, is saving me from my over-developed sense of superiority and responsibility. My job is just to be a conduit to share that gift with others and be of service.