I woke up today at 4:30 am, probably because I watched a lot of news yesterday. It was the first day of relaxing social distancing for so many states and I wanted to hear, especially what scientists had to say. It was sobering. If that kind of news triggers you I won’t give details, but let’s just say it was sobering. I ruefully remember a line from the Beatles Song, A Day in the Life, “I read the news today, oh boy.” Oh boy, indeed.
However, the decision by our governor to have a gradual opening did set me on questions about choices: Hardware store? Garden store? Hair cut? Restaurant? When we will next see our almost three year old granddaughter in Arkansas. I can’t wait for 18 months.
This morning I saw a CNN article “5 signs your coronavirus anxiety has turned serious” They had some good suggestions including: reach out and connect, just not physically, breathe deeply, practice gratitude, be careful with media, crack a smile, stay optimistic.
However, I wasn’t getting traction on what to write today--so many possibilities swirling around my hear. So I decided on a walk in the forest at 6 am. It was cold (40 degrees) and blustery (20 mph wind gusts), but still beautiful.
Resting in the not knowing
At some point in the walk, I remembered talking to a meditation teacher about 15 years ago about all the uncertainties in my life at that time: unsure about my meditation practice, worried about my children (then 19 and 17), uncertainty about staying at KSC or looking elsewhere, and so many more things. Even after 25 years of meditation practice, I was falling into a lot of rumination.
My teacher asked if I could “rest in the not knowing.” The look on my face was similar to the look if he had asked if I could take a year leave of absence and meditate in a monastery in Burma.
We talked for awhile and he connected this suggestion to many principles in Buddhist psychology. I also connected it to Angeles Arrien’s book (The Four-Fold Way) where she talked about four universal addictions, one being the need to know. When we are caught in this addiction, we avoid and deflect the pain of not knowing by moving into our head—trying to figure it out, trying to understand it, trying to rationalize it. This addiction fit me well!
When I stopped and thought about it though, most of us have had to make so many decisions in our lives with not enough information: should I marry this person, should I let my son/daughter go over to this friend’s house, should I take this job, should I buy this house, which treatment should I try for my cancer?
While it is important to be as informed as reasonably possible, at some point we make a decision. And it makes sense to stay on top of what we decided because we might change our minds. The challenge is not to get caught up in second-guessing ourselves, ruminating and obsessing. That is the trap, the rip current I found myself caught up with in all the aforementioned issues in my life.
Over time I have discovered how to rest in the not knowing and when to rest in the not knowing and when not to rest in the not knowing. I have become much more comfortable in resting in the not knowing, resisting the temptation to understand the not-knowing but rather to pay attention to the not knowing, to observe the not knowing, to simply be with the not knowing.
For example, with respect to seeing our granddaughter, I don’t have to make that decision today. With respect to the opening of more stores, I don’t have to go to any store today
So what practices help me to move toward resting in the not knowing instead of fighting the not knowing, hating the not knowing?
Recognizing when I’m in my head
I have found it helpful to thank that part of me (who so badly wants to figure it out) for its service, to remind him that this is not helpful now, but other parts are helpful. He does have his value though. Then I do some research and thinking that is useful. This I will do before I travel to Arkansas to visit our granddaughter and our family.
Remembering one of the big epiphanies of my life
At the beginning of my second year of retirement, I had an amazing epiphany: it really doesn’t matter what I do with the rest of my life; what matters most is how I am in the world, that is, cultivating kindness and compassion. In that moment, the anxious voices pretty much subsided.
Taking refuge
Every time I meditate, I take the three refuges: I take refuge in the Buddha, I take refuge in the Dhamma (his teachings), I take refuge in the Sangha (community). Because I have had such powerful experiences in many different paths, I offer the refuges in universal terms: I take refuge in all the people who have seen deeply: Mother Teresa, Gandhi, Nelson Mandela, Harriet Tubman, Martin Luther King…. I take refuge in the teachings from Buddhism, Hinduism, Judaism, Islam, indigenous peoples…. I take refuge in the community of people (near and far) who are aspiring to be whole.
I focus on what I can control as opposed to what I can’t control
This notion of control is critical and one I want to devote a whole post to. At this point, a reminder of one piece in a recent blog:
• More focus on what I can control: my attitude, turning off the news, finding fun things to do at home, kindness and grace …
• Less focus on what I can’t control: the actions of others, predicting what will happen, how long this will last, the amount of toilet paper at the store, Generation Xers in total denial at the beach…
Also helpful in letting go is the story about how people catch monkeys in some parts of Asia. The hunters carve a hole in a bamboo tree that big enough for the monkey to slip its hand into the hole, and then they place treats inside the end of the hole which is big enough for the monkey to grab them. When the monkey puts it hand in the hole, the hunters jump out. To survive all the monkey has to do is let go of the treat. So often the monkey gets caught! When I find myself focusing on what I really can’t control, sometimes I literally clench and then unclench my fist, and it helps me to let go—a little or a lot.
Not turning away (discussed in the April 21 blog)
Recently I saw a great movie, but it brought up the flood of memories of the many years of intense loneliness, beginning with 5 high schools and 3 colleges, and continuing intermittently for many years after college. The movie also brought up memories of how mean people can be to each other and that can send me off to the races to images of genocides and dictatorships, etc. So I simply sat in the recliner (rather than my meditation cushion) and said I’m ready for the second movie (in my head). For the next hour I simply watched those memories of loneliness and images of people being mean. At some point, I was done and got up. I felt much calmer
Other options
Many people find metaphors useful. Here are ones that I have discussed in my blogs: making mountains out of molehills , pouring gasoline on a fire, and rip currents and tsunamis.
There are many other practices too, including: praying, grounding (walks in nature), hope, connecting with other people, antidote (focusing on joy, beauty, etc.). Please share practices you find helpful.
Lastly more time in the present moment is helpful, and I have discussed this in many places. I am including a Mindful May calendar which someone send me a copy of, but it was so small that many days were only partially legible, so I used some of the ideas and added my own.
May all beings be safe and well.
May all beings find moments of happiness and peace each day.
May all beings be free from suffering.