Maybe Impermanence isn't what You Think

Melody over at This is Me had an interesting post about relationships yesterday. Here are the first two paragraphs:

From time to time I've had patients tell me that everyone who comes into their lives eventually leaves them. Upon discussion, they are usually able to identify at least one person who has consistently been there for them (thereby acknowledging that not everyone leaves them). Still, they feel abandoned and unlovable.

I've given this some thought and have reached the conclusion that it is the rule - and not the exception - for most people who come into our lives to eventually leave. Sometimes there are reasons - someone moves away or you have an argument - and sometimes there really isn't any reason. You simply "lose touch" with one another.

This coming and going has been on my mind a lot lately. There has been plenty of it happening for me over the past few months, more intensely it seems than at many other times in my life. Old friends going. New friends coming. Old girlfriends peeking out again from behind the tress. Others not sure if they are coming or going. A new family member coming. Maybe there will also be one going soon as well. Hard to tell for sure.

On one level, no one stay with you all the way. Whether it's through breakup, growing apart, or death - everyone eventually "goes" from your life. On another level, even the people we are the closest to are coming and going in every moment, eluding our grasp even as we hold them closely. And on still another level, this coming and going of people in our lives is just what we see, feel, and experience as such. It isn't happening in the way we think it is at all.

Like Melody's patients, I sometimes feel abandoned. It's easy in this fleeting world of ours to sometimes feel that you're being left behind by others, tossed away for someone or something else. In fact, you can feel this even when someone or a group of someones is right in the room with you, talking to you and spending time with you. So it's not really about them in some senses. It's about something nagging at you from within, hoping that another person will come and rub a balm all over you.

It's been many years since I felt "unlovable" as some of Melody's patients do, but I remember that one as well. For me, it was always tied with making mistakes, and not being "perfect" whatever that meant at the time.

But even if those of us who feel like we are loved, and lovable, can still get mired in abandonment. The wondering why someone has gone. Or why they have returned to muck around at the edges, but not really to fully come back into your life. It's not easy in a world full of impermanent people, places, and things to be truly ok with all the coming and going that goes on.

So, maybe it's best to let yourself not be ok sometimes. To not try and be stoic, hard-nosed, and faux enlightened about the ways in which you struggle with relationship comings and goings.

Because, think about it, most of the time, it's difficult to know if someone is coming or going for sure. Part of the struggle, much of the struggle perhaps is in wanting to have things defined, finalized, boxed away as past or present. And life just isn't like that. My long dead grandfather still "comes into my life" at times. And I have had a friend for well over a decade who seems to be long gone, even though he pops up in my life from time to time.

Maybe all of this is pointing to the fact that impermanence itself isn't exactly what people tend to think of it.

*Image - Picasso, Girl Before Mirror

The Misery of Not Making Mistakes

The following little talk is from our center's monthly bulletin. It is from the same lay teacher, Ken, whose zazen in a chair I wrote about last week.

ARE YOU OKAY WITH THAT? By Ken Ford
I began our conversation with a story, oh so important at the moment. Like many of our stories, a self-centered complaint: I had screwed up quite publicly in my sesshin assignment, just how I don’t remember, but it confirmed mistake-making as a tendency of mine, one I didn’t like. Tenshin-roshi’s response took me by surprise. “Are you OK with that?” That’s all he said.

I saw the reactions come up: “Of course not, why would I be OK with my mistakes? Why would I have brought it up?” But I heard him loud and clear. He had simply pointed out that I was only adding suffering to suffering with my story. I had set up camp in a notion of myself as a person who makes mistakes and I wanted to fix that.

We want to get things right, and with care we often do. My presence and clarity of mind are far from perfect, however, and my actions don’t always live up to my standard; I don’t always get it right. Moreover, I live in a radically interdependent way with all beings; “I” am not in control. I remember Katagiri roshi saying that because of our complete interdependence, we cannot live for a minute without forgiveness.

There is suffering in making a mistake: the simple realization that my actions didn’t measure up, and maybe my action caused discomfort for others. Oh, but I said public screw-up didn’t I; how about the everyday suffering of a little bruise on the ego? A mistake and its consequences need to be seen and felt, which is to say fully acknowledged, confessed. But then if I do not see its emptiness, how much suffering do I add by dwelling in the world of regret, by—and this is what it amounts to—hating rather than accepting what arises as the life of this moment?

Spending a lot of time on my own recently, I've been noticing some things about mistakes and my attitude towards them.

First, like Ken, I'm often not terribly happy with screw ups. Especially public screw ups that involve others. At the same time, I seem to be ok when a mistake doesn't appear to impact anyone but myself. Or if it's just a little screw up that doesn't "make much of a difference."

Second, I have a strong coward-bone that pushes me to do all sorts of things when I let it. Instead of taking a risk, I'll avoid something to minimize potential mistakes. Instead saying things directly and clearly, I'll try and soften my words, or make qualifications that will ease disagreements. Why? Because sometimes, my mind tells me that disagreements are mistakes, and sometimes I believe that mind.

Third, I don't regret very often. I'm not one to wallow in that kind of energy, or if I do, it's not too long.

Fourth, I'm coming to see that when you are always "trying to get it right" or "do it right," you are in a prison. Why is that? Because you believe you know where you need to go and what needs to be done, and then inevitably you'll fall short of the story. Living like this also saps creativity, spontaneity, and flexibility. It makes you heavy, anxious, and on guard towards others.

Fifth, I can feel the fears of being abandoned, rejected, and alone behind the concerns I have about mistakes. This isn't a little fear, either; it feels bone-deep at times.

To be honest, I find it challenging to be ok with the fact that much of life is out of my control. That even my best efforts might still result in mistakes. That I can extend all the kindness and generosity possible, and still might be met with abandonment and rejection. And that each of us is alone in a certain sense, even if we are also interwoven with everything else in the world.

The methods of damage control I employ around mistake making really are about avoiding these truths. And, also, fixating on them too much - as if I'm always going to be condemned, no matter what I do, which is just another story.

Most of the mistakes I have made over the years involving others have been quickly forgiven, or brushed off as not important or worthy of worry. In fact, as I have learned to tone my own reactions/judgments down, I have come to also be able to see when someone is over-reacting to something I did. Or over-reacting about something they did.

However, I'm still prone to wanting to "get it right," and might never be rid of that. And you know, I suppose I can learn to be ok with that wanting. It's not like I have to act on it.

Regardless, the way I'm starting to see it, it's kind of miserable to be one who puts extraordinary amounts of energy into not making mistakes. Perhaps you minimize some hurt doing this, but in the end, your life seems to be minimized in the process.