"Compassion is an unstable emotion. It needs to be translated into action, or it withers. The question is what to do with the feelings that have been aroused, the knowledge that has been communicated. People don't become inured to what they are shown -- if that's the right way to describe what happens -- because of the quantity of images dumped on them. It is passivity that dulls feeling."
-Susan Sontag
One of the little pleasures in life that I enjoy is when my husband and I would travel we would always sleep in and have breakfast in bed. This was a real treat since my normal routine would be to wake up, rush around getting ready, try to squeeze some meditation in, and grab some coffee at Martha’s to drink in the car on the 40 minute ride to work. Well, be careful what you wish for since I had breakfast in bed for four months. Not in the setting as described above but in the hospital where I was staying. As you might expect breakfast in bed got very old and tired. I knew though that I had to eat to get my strength back so I thought, “Okay, how I can perk up the situation here?” I studied the menu like I was taking a final exam. I started to play with different food combinations to feel like I was getting something different. There is waffle with bacon one morning and maybe a waffle with sausage at the end of the week. Sometimes I would order cereal and eat half the cereal and half the eggs. This seemed to work. My roommate, however, was having a hard go of it. She loved poached eggs and toast- the very things that were not on the breakfast menu. Poached eggs, like omelets are not something easily served to the masses and toast- well, their definition of toast was a slice of cold bread in saran wrap that is micro waved before it is served. You get the picture.
Every morning, she would ask if she could have poached eggs and toast and every morning she did not get it. This went on for several days and she related to her friends and family how much she missed her poached eggs and toast but no one was available to deliver her the breakfast that she wanted so early in the morning. Finally she got so irritated that she stopped eating breakfast and then they had to feed her through a tube from her nose to her stomach.
I realized that no matter what our situation the importance of making do with what you have. The mental stress and strain of worrying about what we don’t have saps us of vital energy that we could be using to help ourselves in other ways.
"Like sleeping or eating, meditation brings health and happiness. It gives us all - including our children - the opportunity to bring peace to ourselves and our families." Sakyong Mipham Rinpoche
Thank you, Leslie, for sharing this with me:
Now, when the waters are pressing mightily
on the walls of the dams,
now, when the white storks, returning,
are transformed in the middle of the firmament
into fleets of jet planes,
we will feel again how strong are the ribs
how vigorious is the warm air in the lungs
and how much daring is needed to love on the exposed plain,
when the great dangers are arched above,
and how much love is required
to fill all the empty vessels
and the watches that stopped telling time,
and how much breath,
a whirlwind of breath,
to sing the small song of spring.
--Yehuda Amichai
(translated from Hebrew, by Leon Wieselteir.)
As a little girl, I was extremely shy and private. My upbringing didn’t help. I attended a Catholic elementary school and a private Catholic girls’ high school. Even as an adult, I worked at getting over my shyness, and the only time I really felt secure being naked other than in a locked bathroom was at the guest program at Tassajara Mountain Center which is a Buddhist monastery and retreat center that had a natural hot spring that was divided into a male only area and a female only area.
Anyway, I found myself in a hospital setting with nurses coming in to change my bedpan. These “nurses” to be were men and women young and old of different nationalities. It was quite humiliating at first. But being that I took an oath to help others as well as myself, I started to learn how to change my own bedpan. This gave me some semblance of control and, of course, was much appreciated by the “nurses”.
Then I graduated to a commode chair. This, I thought, would give me back some privacy. But, again, just a thin curtain between me and my neighbor 4 feet away in the next bed made it hard to think that you were private. Because there is no knock on the door, doctors, and nurses, and nurses aides were free to come by at any time to interrupt you or ask if you need help or to just stand there and watch-just to make sure you don’t fall, of course. Then there is always the parade of friends and relatives that always drop in when you are about to drop number 2. But don’t mind them. And just when you think the coast is clear, a conga line of your neighbor’s relatives will also pass by, say good morning to you while you are cramping up on the commode, and exchange pleasantries with you behind the curtain just so they don’t have to listen to anything, um, unpleasant. And if that fails, you can always blast the TV to hide the moans and groans of intestinal blockage.
Now when you are discharged, and you think you are going home to some peace and privacy- think again. I don’t think my husband has ever seen me for any length of time in the bathroom. I always made sure the door was locked. Now the door is always open and we have great conversations in there while I am doing my thing. Relatives come in, too, to chat, and “help me pull up my pants” or “make sure I don’t fall”. Pretty soon there will be no real reason for anyone to be in the bathroom with me except to talk.
My dearest bathroom experience happened when my seven year old niece came to visit. Seeing that everyone was hanging out in the bathroom with me, she also wanted to help. She followed me into the bathroom and I transferred and she looked at me quizzically and said she wanted to help. I said okay, and I rose up and let her pull my pants down. One side of my leg showed the blood red area of the skin graft, and the other leg was bandaged. She stared at the graft and asked if she could touch it. I said only if she washed her hands. She washed her hands dutifully, and dried them quickly. She took her one small finger and pressed on the blood red flesh as she asked, "Does this hurt?" No, I replied. Her curiosity was so pure and non-judgmental, that I was taken aback. She sat down next to me and asked all those questions that others are dying to ask but never do. We had a wonderful chat while I was sitting on the toilet.
As I am able to be more independent, I hope my bathroom chats don’t go away. I’ve said goodbye to privacy and hello to something else, something that goes beyond embarrassment or humiliation. I think I will always keep the bathroom door open now.
"Without any intention, fancy way of adjusting yourself, to express yourself as you are is the most important thing." –Suzuki Roshi
“Live in joy, In love, Even among those who hate. Live in joy, In health, Even among the afflicted. Live in joy, In peace, Even among the troubled. Look within. Be still. Free from fear and attachment, Know the sweet joy of the way.” -from the Dhammapada
It was with great trepidation that I got ready for a New Year’s Eve party at my friend’s house. My husband would drive for an hour south and I would be the passenger on a dark and rainy night- the same conditions I experienced the night of my accident over a year ago. I also had other concerns. How would I manage in their house? Would my walker fit in their tiny bathroom? How slippery would the walkway be? What if I fell? Yada, yada, yada, went my mind. But I knew that I had to go on with my life and I wanted to go on without fear. And so, I kept my fears at bay with a determination that all was going to be well no matter what. I felt connected to the true spirit of Basic Goodness.
Well, the party was great and I had a wonderful time. I did not fall and my husband could escort me to the bathroom easily. The food was wonderful and my friend’s hospitality was warm and loving -just as I remembered them. On the way home, there were some light showers off and on and the ride north on 280 was bright and fresh and green like I had never experienced before. I looked out of the car window in awe of the beauty of the area. Rolling green mountains separated the ocean from the Crystal Springs reservoir. The long smooth highway above allowed views of waterfowl playing above and on the glassy smooth water. On my right green hills with hungry cows mixed in with large mansions filled with rich Silicon Valley executives. I noticed several deer grazing very near the highway. As we got closer to San Francisco, a double rainbow emerged. I had never seen one so bright before. It was such a site that it brought me to tears! It was as if the universe was smiling at me playfully saying, “You see, you made it. It wasn’t so bad now, was it?”
I remembered that rainbows are a common favorite with great spiritual masters and I thought of my teacher in particular, Kwong Roshi, and felt his presence near. At that moment, even with the tragic events that have happened to me, I felt an overwhelming feeling of love and being loved that no experience could shake.