On Surviving Personal Storms

“Remember that not getting what you want is sometimes a wonderful stroke of luck.” –Dalai Lama

Life is nothing if not complex and unpredictable. Just when we think we have it all together, got it organized, life can unexpectedly go sideways with the appearance of trouble in one form or another. It doesn’t particularly matter what kind of trouble it is, what matters is that it often unsettles and de-stabilizes, leaving us feeling bewildered, fearful, angry and lost—among other things.

It is tempting in these moments to berate ourselves or blame others for the presence of problems—why didn’t I see this coming? Why didn’t they … ?

But, condemning ourselves or others for the presence of problems is not only uncharitable, but overlooks the fact that trouble of any kind is a wake-up call for course correction—a signpost leading us in the direction of personal growth and deeper sense of fulfillment.

Meaning that, whatever storm has blown into our life and rearranged a few things, may be a gift in disguise. Because let’s face it, we don’t always know what is best for us (read more on this HERE). Being limited to our own (often faulty) vision of life is not necessarily what is in our actual best interest.

Sometimes what we want and what we might need are two very different things.

So, take heart. Having troubles isn’t necessarily a sign that you’ve failed at life, it is a sign that you have a life and that you’re human. They exist, potentially, as gifts of grace leading us toward what we might need, and merely require our faith in their messages and compassion for all the difficulty we experience in accepting their presence, and managing them well.

I would never wish trouble on anyone, nor advise anyone to go looking for it, but when it visits I believe it is wise to look closely, to listen, to be patient and see what may appear in the way of a message—information which can be used to course correct and take us in a new, adventurous, productive and wonderful direction.

If the Dalai Lama has met with all the considerable trouble and woe that he has, and can make the statement above, maybe we can find inspiration enough to set aside any tendency to feel sorry for ourselves, and summon the courage to face our own troubles and woes with a greater sense of personal responsibility, humility, courage and hope.

It all begins with love and ends with love—for ourselves, for others and for the circumstances which test our courage, tenacity, patience and perseverance.

Respect for Dark Places

I like the idea of our awareness as firelight, because it conveys a certain reverence and respect for dark places, as it transforms them with its warmth and light into sacred spaces.

I bring this up because I believe our cultural obsession with the sunny pursuit of happiness (coming, as it seems to, at the expense of so many other worthy, if challenging, states of being) is potentially misguided and over-rated. 

For one thing, life is simply never going to live up to such a one-dimensional expectation of it—the sun that rises also sets, does it not?

And, I believe this tendency results in the potential abuse of spiritual tools, like meditation, when they are used as a means by which to escape the shadow side of our nature, rather than to delve deeper into it. Getting to know this aspect of ourselves better, making space for it, befriending it in meditation, helps to transmute any toxic potential in the process.

Understand then, that the depression that visits, for example, may have some vital information to share with us, that wave of jealousy may exist as a reminder we are not as mature as we’d previously believed, and the sadness that wells inside, breaking open our hearts, invites renewed vitality and potential for growth.

Tempted, as we might be, it is a grave, grave error to try and avoid or purge ourselves of the dark side of our human nature—we can’t anyway.

Which is why when we heavily market and privilege a too bright, too sunny ideal notion of happiness, what I see revealed on a less obvious level is the rejection of this dark, potentially fertile material without which, I believe, true happiness is impossible.

If we can summon the courage to honour our dark places, to make sacred space for our shadow, to listen to what it might have to teach us about love and life, we might discover an increased ability to manage the dissonance with greater intelligence, heart and skill. 

For there is no light without darkness, nor darkness without light—and it is the firelight of our awareness illuminating the dark inner recesses of the heart, that creates the womb-like atmosphere where transformation of any dark material is practically inevitable. But we have to be willing to go there.

True, happiness is an important quality, but so is respect for any sadness, depression or anger we may experience—they too have their stories to tell and we would be wise to sit with them, to linger and listen closely.

In closing, consider these words from someone far wiser than myself:

“Buddhism [spirituality] isn’t about seeing a world all cleaned up or thinking that the world can be all cleaned up…you’re never going to have a neat, sweet little picture with no messiness, no matter how many rules you make.” –Pema Chodron, Tricycle Magazine, Fall 1993, “No Right, No Wrong”. 

Best, then, learn to relax a little where any insistence on happiness is concerned. 

Gotta love the whole picture.

Owner of a Broken Heart?

“I tell you this to break your heart, by which I mean only that it break open and never close again to the rest of the world.” –Mary Oliver

Oh, it is hard to have one’s heart broken! And there are so many differing circumstances which are apt to break that seed open, which often we try so hard to avoid. But, therein lies both the problem and the solution.

For if having our hearts broken is essential for growth—for opening to the world and to each other—there must be some value in respecting heart-break when it comes, for attending to the healing process in such a way that we augment our heart’s resiliency and potential for growth, rather than compromise it by shutting down.

Isn’t it paradoxical, then, that the closed heart should be the one so vulnerable to cracking up under pressure, when you’d think it would be the one that is ostensibly more vulnerable for it being soft, open and undefended?

But the secret here is that open hearts are resilient, and having your heart broken is simply part of life—a work-out for the soul (for hearts open or closed) that is a necessary and valuable part of one’s spiritual path.

It’s not right or wrong, bad or good. It just is—a process of transformation.

And though this process is often arduous and uncomfortable, resisting transformation will only leave us stunted, unhappy versions of ourselves, which I think is worse still.

So, break open and never close—the former is practically inevitable, the latter we must choose.

Summoning Wisdom

“Every mind must know the whole lesson for itself—must go over the whole ground. What it does not see, what it does not live, it will not know.” –Ralph Waldo Emerson

I have often times been told that it is not necessary to go through a particular experience in order to benefit from its lessons, or to glean the salient wisdom therein. Perhaps this is true in some instances, but, generally, my own experience in the world has suggested otherwise.

I do not believe it is possible to appropriate real knowledge. When I have, on occasion, found myself doing something in this vein, I only end up parroting—the words seeming sensible enough, but lacking credibility at the same time.

True knowledge, therefore, is lived knowledge. And lived knowledge is the only sort that invites wisdom—something which arises only when we live in active, awake relationship to life.

This is important because we seem to live in an age where it is believed that we can become wise merely by consuming knowledge via information in books, blog posts, and on-line courses and workshops.

Not so. Though this information can be enormously helpful to us in processing our experiences, it isn’t a substitute for actual life experience.

And I love how I feel when I know something is true in my bones—in a word, confident. There have been experiences in my life that I would gladly have avoided (brain tumours, and all the medical outfall, while managing the rigors of being a single parent, for example) but I have to confess to myself that if wisdom lives in me at all, it is because I chose to summon the courage to face these experiences—to live them.

Not all my life lessons have been harsh ones, but they have all required me to make the choice of being present to them, facing what, at times, has seemed like an endless variety of colourful and terrifying fears. And, let me tell you, it has been well worth the investment of time and energy spent.

I’m happier because of this. I am able to process mental and emotional material more efficiently and effectively, come back to heart-center without such big detours and am available to others in a way that isn’t possible if I am drowning in my own stuff (though that too still happens from time to time).

Learning from experience, from living in relationship to life (dynamic process), is the beginning of all true knowledge and wisdom, and, I believe, imperative for a life filled with some basic sense of self-reliance, contentment and joy.

Let’s learn our lessons, and learn them well.