I do live “by pain” and now sleep by
pain as well. Pain legislates my being, the rules of my movement, my life. Yet I count my blessings and am most grateful that the pain is far more moderate than
severe, that I am allowed so much pain-free movement, that I am able to walk in
the forest and at the ocean when I choose to go. So, yes, there is pain, but
there is also much freedom from it. And for that I am most grateful and most
fortunate and, yes, most blessed by God and all the gods and goddesses. I have
not been forgotten by the divinities who look after me. True, I am severely
reminded of my life transgressions, my hurting, usually not malicious or
intentional, of others, and I am given the benefit of knowing on a certain
level how others do actually suffer in their bodies, as well as touching upon
the suffering deeply and sharply in their minds, hearts and souls. I so feel
their pain, as is said. Not just the physical pain but the deep pain of loss
and abandonment and loneliness and regret for harms that I have committed upon
others in my life. To be able to feel and go through this while I am still
alive is a great blessing and gift that allows me not to have to wander lost
and alone when I finally do leave the body. This is not morbid; rather, this is
good fortune, the greatest of gifts, allowing me to feel myself one with all
other human beings and to have and feel deep compassion and understanding for
all, even the worst of them. And not only compassion, but hope, and a sense
that my suffering is not in vain but possesses the purpose of giving me
understanding and acceptance of myself and others and of the way it is in the
world, of what we have done to ourselves and each other, in the hope and faith
that it can be unraveled and undone, that we can make it right for ourselves
and for each other in our understanding and our forgiveness. For, though this
pain may even cripple our bodies, which may be their ultimate fate, it can also
free our souls and hearts to operate beyond the poor body, the recipient of the
blows of physical life and its ever-unsatisifed yearnings and desires of even
heart and mind. Such pain squeezes these desires and appetites out of us as we
come to recognize how much of mind and thought is driven by the needs and
desires of a sixteen year-old seeking to conquer the world in so many ways to
capture sexuality, power, fame, wealth and health for himself. And so I once
did in great confidence and some success. But this conquering mind by
necessity, by reality, changes. Life itself aids in our realizing our limits as
times proceeds, as we age. The pain and limitation help us to disidentify with
the world of the young, the endless conquest of everything by sheer will and
drive of the young mind and body. Yet, still, at age 72, it foolishly persists
as if it were still eighteen. Such hard-drivenness takes its toll on body and soul,
and one realizes such in due time: one is simply no longer who one was over
fifty years ago. One loses the dexterity, the strength, the endurance, the
flexibility, the utter prowess one once possessed overwhelmingly. One loses the
sense of unlimitness and endless faith in one’s utter and inevitable success
and ignorant fearlessness of youth, which is the exact reason why young men are
sent to war as cannon fodder; older men are not so naturally inclined in this
way.
One becomes able to recognize reality
regarding oneself and one’s limitations. One notices others, that there are
others, if one is fortunate. One realizes the value and benefit of living for
them, even as equal or better than living for oneself only. One, if one is
fortunate and blessed in life, finds that love of others transcends love of
self, or, more truly, is the epitome of love of self, for the other is oneself.
The greatest joy comes from helping another.
And
all this has come to arise out of my own experience of my own utter pain that
has such power in my life. I am grateful for what it has revealed to me and
utterly so.
