The attachment to suffering is even more oppressive than the suffering itself, somehow. So I have turned my attention more to letting go, being present in this moment. I like Pema Chödrön's method of releasing the outbreath and simply saying "thinking" as it goes out. Meeting all thoughts with unconditional friendliness. For someone almost constantly at war and so prone to attachment as myself, this is a real enterprise and a full challenge. But then I can let go of that story also. In my morning meditations, which are only 10 minutes long, no matter how many daggers are stuck in my guts, I do find at least a flash of a moment or two of stillness and peace.
I ended up communicating with the ex after all via email. The main theme of my email was gratitude for the time we had together, because of the exhortation of Hajo Banzhaf in his excellent book, The Tarot Handbook, regarding the card Death, which keeps coming up.
"In the scope of our personal relationships, Death means that one phase of development is approaching its end, whereby a departure from a companion is often indicated. Even if this experience is extremely painful, we cannot escape it. We should not try to avoid the parting or design it to happen on the run, Whoever is on the run is quickly cursed. Instead, we should thank our companion for the time we spent together and give our best wishes in friendship for his or her further path in life."
The ex replied via text, expressing her own gratitude also for the time and experiences we had, but indicating she was not ready to communicate much else. I replied that I understood and that if she ever wanted to communicate more, the door is open. I also overstepped slightly in being perhaps too effusive, and she responded with some energy that felt like the old 100 foot high wall again-- a salutary reminder to me to stay out of sentiment when communicating with her at this time.
It was generally a fairly successful communication, though, on dangerous ground. Now it feels like a long period of silence is on the way. Back to the work I need to do, both in the outer and the inner world. But watchful now for an attachment to misery, a dedication to unwavering katabasis. It will bring itself about definitely on its own accord and I will need to allow breathing room for lightness and release.
"Every wound is an opening." One of my dearest friends, a theologian, quoted this in an opening to his book "Theology and Difference: The Wound of Reason" that he wrote in the throes of grief he felt when his beloved brother, four years younger, hanged himself. He had just seen his brother, after spending a sabbatical year in Tuebingen. He struggled with why he had not been able to discern the depths of his brother's suffering when they visited.
ReplyDeleteTiantai Buddhism also has a saying: "Every obstacle is the way of escape," or also translated in the more familiar "All obstacles are the way through." How awful it must be to have had closeness with someone who chooses to end his or her life and to be not only immersed in grief but also second guessing, guilt and remorse. I am sure that the most common experience of loss is deeply entwined with regret also-- if only I could have, if only I had, if only I were this or that. Just yesterday I was remembering February 3rd, Friday, the day that the ex flew out to see her new paramour, and how I simply did not know that I would never actually see that woman again-- that when I saw her again she would have been irrevocably changed and no longer exist relative to me. If I had known that somehow, how would I have acted? Of course this is a useless downward spiral of self-castigation, since February 3rd 2017 is long gone and will never, ever return again, and what unfolded in lost time is done and settled and the time is in stone now. How much worse these second guesses and shadows and fantasies of alternate realities must be when an actual death, especially by suicide of a loved one, has occurred. Talk about getting hooked on misery!
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