The Attachment Catch
After 5 weeks of guests, we are back to our usual schedule. Things with the elders are still touch and go. One of my aunts is in the hospital. Lisa's dad, Bill, is struggling with his breathing and a few vascular issues. My parents are trying to survive the French heat wave, the new normal in European summer weather. Like many of you we understand that the travails of elder care will be in our lives in one way or another, a consequence of having one's elders in one's life so much longer than used to be the case - thanks to medical technology. It's odd for me to think that I'm the 60-year-old son of 90-year-old parents. I'm on the down side of the hill and still someone's child. With advances in longevity research (if we all make it through climate change), it's possible to imagine being 80, and having a 110-year-old loved one.
If we somehow managed to live a couple of centuries, we might end up getting estranged from our closest relations. Starting new families. Making new marriages. Changing sexual orientation just for sh*ts and giggles. Or even gender. It's pretty much the future described by Iain Banks in his excellent "Culture" novels. Which points out the undeniable reality that our bonds are made stronger and more precious by the fleeting nature of our existence. With more time comes, possibly, a less ardent identification with our emotional entanglements. Less attachment. That might be why the karma and reincarnation hypothesis is so important in Hinduism and Buddhism. Without an insight into the recurring time of Samsara (the near-infinite cycle of rebirths), we cling poignantly to what we have, because we can't see that our attachments are not what makes us who we really are. This gets into non-self and other very subtle concepts and I ain't goin down that rabbit hole.
But I would point out that there's no need for karma or reincarnation to put our attachments in perspective in this very life.
Here's one way this works well. I would even say it's a must if we don't want to melt into a muddy puddle of duty, guilt, shame, and perceived obligation. That would be the art of setting boundaries.
The Buddha might tell you that the only way to "enter the stream", ie start achieving real freedom, is to renounce everything. Including your loved ones. I say no to that. Maybe that means I don't want to be free. I want to continue to love my wife, my family, my friends, my community. (Beeteedubs, the Buddha doesn't say you shouldn't love anyone; on the contrary a mark of awakening is the ability to love everyone, even the Donald, it's just that as a monk or a nun you don't have favorites. Good luck with that!). But if I engage in attachment, that doesn't mean I have to give up on my autonomy. Let's say a relationship doesn't function in a way that serves me. I may not be able to change it, but I can set a boundary. That would be a line in the sand that you kindly remind the other person not to step over. It's hard work. It takes skill to do it in a gracious way. And it takes fairly radical honesty to bring up deeply held irritants. If someone you love keeps doing something that drives you nuts, you have to find a way to pause, think about what's not working for you, and present it calmly. And be prepared for the other person's legitimate pushback or beef with you - trust me when I say you're no cakewalk. I know this because I'm no cakewalk. We all have our quirks.
Also, I'm very bad at the process I describe above. All too often I lose my cool. Still learning after all these years.
In my previous post, I talked about Recognize, Acknowledge, Investigate and Non-Identify (or Nurture) = RAIN as a method to deal with our inner turmoil. Laure in France has been trying to use this. She asked me to clarify the "Investigate" portion. This is the part where you bow to your feelings. You acknowledge their power. Kinda like saying to the driver on the bus, "yeah you're in charge". I can see how that would be hard to visualize. Imagine you're having anxiety. Ok, first you name it. "Anxiety."
Why that first step is important is that sometimes we are being side-swiped by an emotion but we're not clear on what it is. "I'm so angry!" is a traditional male go-to. Fine: that's anger. But more likely than not, this is just the top layer. I may be grieving. Or afraid. It's helpful to know the more granular emotional reality. Then I can acknowledge in a more specific way: "Anger," yes I see the power of that. "Grief," that's also powerful, let's take a bow. "Fear," wow that holds the most energy right now, an even deeper bow. It's good to show respect to the things that are running you. The funny thing is that the respect is already a way to not be run by those feelings. It's already a way to start making some space for you.
What are the other two parts about? Going back to the bus metaphor, it's how you step off the bus if you don't like the way the driver is driving. Make sense?
Laure understands all this, and she's learning to practice it, but she also says it's not working. Then I realized I forgot a key piece of information. Sure, you can use RAIN in your everyday life. But it's a whole lot easier if it's part of your meditation practice. That would be the first step: to give yourself the luxury of ten or twenty minutes everyday to do nothing, close your eyes and simply notice your own life. That's where RAIN comes in handy.
My bad for that omission. Hopefully the picture is now complete.
And now for our usual set of links and illustrations. Lisa's latest "heart" collage:
Keren W's moving take on intimacy:
Laure's penultimate vacay snapshot before having to go back to work, a picture of an ancient building in Sarlat where the philosopher Montaigne wrote some of his musings on the self as a mirror of the entire human condition:
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