"nothingness" does not mean "nothing"

First, an apology. I said last year I was "starting a blog." However, my dear friend Marla noted that it's not a blog if you don't, well, blog. Therefore, I have not blogged, and you may feel duped.

And I have not blogged since August 2009. Why is that? Because I have been going through the throes of a divorce. Let me tell you, it's like another job, really -- there is a lot to do, many papers to fill out, gobs of statements of fact to compose. And that's true regardless of whether your divorce is friendly or not.

And mine wasn't, even though I thought it would be. Even though I longed for it to be. Even though I continued to pine for same as I got the snot beat out of me in one way or another. I kept thinking, "this HAS to get better, right?"

And no, it wasn't the fault of my attorney. She was the real gem in all of this, a person I could trust and share my innermost anxieties with. She was no ambulance-chaser; on more than one occasion she disabused me of the belief that somehow (a) this was going to be a slam-dunk and (b) I would become far richer monetarily because of my divorce. Neither were true; she didn't lie.

But I digress. Since August, when I hired said gem-of-an-attorney, and last week (when we reached a settlement), there has not been a single day in which I was not obsessing about some aspect of the divorce. I won't go into the details, because they are not relevant; rather, the focus of this particular post is about obsession and what happens when the obsessing goes away.

While all of this divorce shit was going on, I also was worrying about the lack of work I was running up against because of the economy. As a consultant, I have to look for work and heretofore that has not been an issue. However, since most of my clients are cities and counties -- and you know how THAT is going these days -- I haven't had nearly enough work for the year.

I then thought I would get creative and use the lax time to work on a paper for my PhD requirements, something that had languished for quite a while. And for a few months, I was applying myself and actually finished the paper, and started on another.

Then, at the beginning of this year, as the divorce stuff heated up, my work plummeted, and the skies turned gray, I sort of fell apart. Well, actually, I became quasi-catatonic. I could not do much of anything -- even though I had a lot of time on my hands.

So I began obsessing about every little thing regarding the divorce. I saw my ex in various places with various new loves. Initially I was devastated; then I became irritable. SHE seemed to be having a lot of fun, while I was in a state of near-constant despair. I reviewed paperwork my ex submitted with a fine-tooth comb. I wanted to know everything I could about what she was doing, so that I could strategize how to respond. I wanted to be prepared for anything thrown at me.

We finally started meeting face-to-face to discuss the terms of a settlement. Actually, it started out with going through volumes of paper, representing 15 years of assets [stuff] that we collectively accumulated, to discern who got what. The reduction of my longest-ever relationship -- my MARRIAGE -- to "who bought that dresser" made me sick. Made me sad, devalued.

The night before one of our last meetings, I lay in bed with my beloved dogs, the sound of their breathing signaling the existence of us, a family. MY family. And all that other "stuff" started to melt away in importance. I heard Alanis Morisette in my head, singing

The moment that I let go of it
Was the moment I got more than I could handle
The moment that I jumped off of it
Was the moment that I touched down.

("Thank U")

I realized then that I didn't need anything, that all of this "stuff" could go away and I would still be here, part of a family. None of it mattered anymore.

Last Thursday, I met with my ex and we reached a settlement. I left the conference room and repaired to my attorney's office, where I started to weep. I felt a strange mixture of sadness, relief, and god knows what else.

The following day, when I thought I would feel better, I felt worse. I cried most of the day -- big, heaving sobs that felt like they traveled back in time to a grief that has always been there. I was now left with this gigantic open space in which obsessing about the divorce was no longer available as an escape. There it was. Nothingness.

I couldn't fill it with too much wine, too much food, too much anger. There were no reams of paper to shove my head into, no books that could carry me to some other land for even a few minutes. I struggled with the feelings I had in my despairing youth of wanting to die. "There's always suicide," I heard a voice in my head say -- and then I would laugh out loud at the stupidity of it all.

Today, a week later, I can still feel the vastness and it scares me. I am afraid of the empty space. I am afraid there is nothing left to me. I am afraid that I have no meaning outside my struggles, and I am afraid I will find a new suffering/obsession to fill up that space. I am afraid being strong, honest, open-hearted and joyful will mean no one will care about me. I feel my identity has been locked in the suffering, and now no one will see me. I am not needed, nor do I need. I am nothing.

And yet...[you knew I wouldn't be a total bag of downers, didn't you?] Yesterday I went for my regular energy healing session with the wonderful CF, and she set me straight: "nothingness" does not mean "nothing." In the vastness, the calm, the "no more suffering about this one thing," there is Spirit. There is Buddhahood. There is the force we cannot see but want to believe is there within us. Some days I believe it, some days not. Today, I will try again.

What have YOU "bought" lately?

When I was about 3 years old, I liked to run around to various neighbors' houses to chat with whomever would listen. Yes, I have been a social butterfly since I was quite young! I loved-loved-loved people (still do) and nothing made me happier than climbing up into old Wick Suiter's (yes, that's a real name) lap and talking talking talking.

However, my mother did not take kindly to this, thinking bad thoughts all the time about what would become of a little girl who was so extroverted. At the same time, my brother, a natural introvert, was so nervous that he licked his lips obsessively to the point he looked like he was wearing clown lips, they were so raw. Our mother also did not take kindly to THAT, considering that boys are supposed to be naturally adventurous and participate in all sorts of social activities with other boys. Totally NOT my brother.

So on the one hand, my mother did everything to restrain me from my natural tendency towards openness, while she actively pushed my brother out of his natural tendency towards shyness. I was forbidden to interact with certain people (a habit that continued in subtle and not-so-subtle ways throughout grade school and high school), and my brother was pushed into all sorts of boy-like activities, including the cub scouts, chess competitions, and science fairs.

Years later, I asked mom why she felt the need to be so restrictive towards me, and her response, I kid you not, was this: "We were concerned that you might become a danger to self and society."

In the last few weeks, I have come to the realization that at some level, I have "bought" this view -- that somehow I am potentially a danger to self and society. It has not been particularly conscious, but it's there, like an underground stream, weaving its way through thoughts, actions, words -- through my BEING.

At some level I have believed that my very being is potentially dangerous. Now, on the surface, I don't feel that way at all, and in fact I am still the same open, extroverted people-lover I always was [that's the problem with trying to force people into being things they are not -- it doesn't work. My brother is still an introvert, too].

I suppose at some level, it's true that my being COULD be dangerous -- we all have the potential to be destructive, or mean, or whatever. But this has been the operative equation for my entire life, it seems -- that I have to be vigilant in ensuring I don't wreak havoc on the world.

This, intellectually, seems absolutely ridiculous. As a Buddhist, I know that everyone has the potential for good or for evil -- popularly expressed as one's fundamental darkness or fundamental enlightenment. But I have limited myself by trying to restrain my fundamental darkness, rather than by nurturing my fundamental enlightenment. In short, I have subconsciously believed that my power for bad is far more potent than my power for good.

One way this belief has manifested in my life is in how I temper my dreams and goals. This realization only came to me last week, after a particularly fruitful chanting session. It dawned on my that I have a habit of tempering my dreams and goals by what I perceive the outcome might be -- that is, what NEGATIVE outcome it will bring to others. I see things in a win-lose dynamic, that if I gain something, it by definition means someone else must lose. I see these words in the preceding sentence and think, how silly! But that's really how my mind works.

My quest is to overcome this habit, and see that if I REALLY trust my Buddhanature's propensity for good, I can let go of the need to restrain myself at all costs. When I chant Nam Myoho Renge Kyo, the world of Buddhahood is immediately accessed (regardless of whether or not I feel it), and I can trust the outcome. Faith in this means I can allow the good to emerge, and not expend so much energy on restraining the bad.

Is there anything you have "bought" lately?

Buddhahood is Not for Wimps: Ready-Set-Go!

I have thought about blogging about Buddhism for some time, but (a) thought it pretentious and (b) didn't have time. Now I find that my life has taken an unexpected turn and it seems to make sense to begin.

"How the hell do you talk about Buddhism when your life is a f%#ing mess?" you may well ask. Actually, if you believe, as I do, that Buddhahood doesn't have anything to do with some blissful state of la-la-land, then you KNOW that it's in the f%#ing mess that Buddhahood lies. In fact, it's in the mess, the disaster, the unrequited, the unhappy, the failed.

It's also in the victory, the joy, the requited, the all-neat-and-tidy too. But it's not missing from the shit. Sometimes it is easier to see Buddhahood in the shit -- or has more meaning, or a greater impact in the shit. Whatev.

So I will do my best to put thoughts to paper (or whatever this is) and maybe something will resonate with you too.