It is
important that we come to know ourselves so that we are not so unconscious that
we find ourselves reacting to what is in fear and confusion. When we do this we
affect the well-being of others and also create an ongoing pattern of behavior
within ourselves. But “knowing oneself” is a bit like trying to hit a moving
target as you yourself are moving as well. I have been practicing zazen for
forty-five years, with many breaks but a consistency and somewhat of a
discipline at times. I don’t see that doing this has necessarily affected me,
but it has. I see that “knowing yourself” is a bit like the carrot held in
front of the donkey to keep it going. But I also see that there is no
alternative: if one is alive, then one must live, and to live, one must be
alive; one needs to be aware of oneself and just how one is if one is to
properly be in the world.
Living your life is difficult, for you
must be willing to accept that which seems impossible to accept. If you don’t,
you go into a reactive state of ignore-ance. You cannot ignore what is. Of
course I mean “me” when I say “you.” I see the state of my wife’s medical
condition and I would do anything to be able not to. But this does not help
her; in fact, it makes her life more difficult and painful. And “she” is not
just her but everyone who suffers. I want so much that she could be happy and
energetic, in other words, not the way she is. Accepting what is is always
heart-breaking, for it demands that one give up their false reality, their
dream of how life must be or even should be. One must grasp the new reality,
even as that reality itself changes as life changes.
The years of sitting zazen have given
me an experience of a greater context of being, of existence, of self, though,
within this context there remains a degree of ignorance and fear, anger and
sadness, all as a result of my on-going failure to see and then accept things
as they are. But even that failure I am now able to see as within the greater context
of being alive. Zazen is not meant to provide an escape from the intimacy and
loss and pain of our lives; in fact, it puts us right into it. Very gradually
our self-identification is subtly altered; we become more than we thought or
think we are. We get beyond ourselves though our selves remain with us. It’s
almost like having a demanding child always present and needing attention, or,
for that matter, a most sorrowful, neglected child always present and needing
attention. We all have our reasons why this may be so and they can be quite
valid, though always simplistic. It’s the story we tell ourselves. Mine is
quite convincing: I was born six weeks premature, was put in a little plastic
incubator with a heat lamp (like they use for motherless chickens), was
bottle-fed and kept away from my mother for a total of three months. This
naturally developed into autism, of which I exhibited symptoms for years as I
was trying to “grow up.” And since I was never satisfied with the level of
attention paid to me by my father, I was never happy with him, (and was
affected with autistic symptoms), and was defiant, as a result of which he grew
angry and was physically abusive of me as early as age three. His father had
abused him; he felt that this was what was necessary. So I ended up as growing
up as a “misunderstood child” who felt quite alone and could trust no one which
did not prepare me adequately for “being in the world.”
So, without all the details, I ended
up taking a rather reflective and educational life path, which eventually more
or less seemed to “work out” in most ways to provide me with a “successive life
in the world” with responsibilities of a wife and two children. There were many
disconnections: I just didn’t know how to relate as a human being. This was
problematic and had many repercussions. For I never really learned just how to
be a “real human being.” Finally, after thirty years and two wives and
financial success and a family, I arrive at my third marriage with eyes more
open and must more understanding and acceptance available between us.
For the last number of year I have
been “naturally creative” and desirous of actually being able to help others,
for I earned a Ph.D. in Jungian Mythological Studies and Depth Psychology, and
wrote a good, long-winded book on depression which actually did have the affect
of touching a few lives. All that I had learned and experienced over the years
and the workshops I gave at schools and to the public was provided; people
liked it. But I had to stop to be able to become caregiver to my wife, for she
was my main concern.
I could still write so I worked on a
fairly frequent blog but I began to lose focus on the creative aspect as
“stories arose from within me,” otherwise known as memories. I realized that it
may just happen that as one ages, past memories of events in one’s life appear
strongly in one’s mind. I attribute this to the need to both review our lives
with our many “sins,” and find closure, forgiveness, self-understanding before
our lives end. Old people tend to talk about their memories, their lives, and
thus “get it off their chest,” which seems to be a reference to the demon succubus or incubus that sits upon one’s chest in the darkness of night.
Together or alone, old people talk it out amongst themselves, amongst hearers
and listeners who are all fellow sinners, that is, have all made serious
mistakes in their lives. Youth itself is a series of such serious
mistakes in which our own natural narcissism wreaks havoc in the lives of
others and causes deep hurt. So we must outlive our youth and spend the rest of
our lives making amends. Work and family may fit into this category of
“becoming an upstanding member of society.” I did—to all appearances, while
inside I saw “right through” conventional society as though it were a
transparent veil, never able to accept the seething, writhing mass that lay
beneath it and stood behind it. I always did believe in the “goodness in the
hearts” of people but also saw that they were crushed under the wheels of the great
locomotive of society, progress, and what passed for organized truth. The young are thus forced to find their own
truth within their own hearts and minds.
No comments:
Post a Comment