Posts Tagged ‘love’

I Don’t Want This Experience

In my twenties I would ask myself the question,’Why don’t I want this experience?’  At that time I really didn’t understand the importance of my query.  It seemed so obvious, the one I didn’t want was painful.  Why would I want to feel that?

The question haunts me now as I feel the pain of loss, the ending of my brief love affair.  This relationship felt like a miracle.  It came when I believed it could/would never happen.  I am too old, too particular – unlikely I would find another who would mesh with me.  Yet it did happen. I gave myself to its siren song and believed I could be in its warmth till the end of my days, but it was a shooting star illuminating the sky for only a moment.

My heart is hurting.  I feel anguish and despair.  I want this love! In clear moments I’m guessing it couldn’t sustain itself, would end at some point.  But right now I want more time, a chance to make it work, to believe I could have this.  To believe I am still loved and cherished.

I know enough through my Buddhist practice to look.  Look at my body sensations, look at the thoughts that arise, the emotions moving through me, and the story I assign.  My teacher tells me I have no choice which thoughts and feelings come.  I know this is true.  They come unbidden, unplanned.  Bubbles rising to the surface, propelled by countless cycles of birth and death.

I see how I grab them, fan them with the flame of memory and wish for the future.  I know in the moment they arise here is choice.  Viktor Frankl writes, ‘Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space lies the freedom to choose our response.  In our response lies our growth and freedom.’  So what do I want to choose?

I ask myself, is it possible to celebrate the aliveness and not assign a value?  Can I let these thoughts and feelings come, abide, dissolve?  Here are the kleshas, the three poisons – ignorance, attachment, aversion.  I want to hold to my version of how things should be.  I don’t want the painful feelings.  My reaction rises in the hard-to-let-go habit which wants to repeat the story of abandonment, I will always be left.  This is my mud puddle.  I sit in it – a small child, a teen, an adult.  It is warm and familiar.  I know this place.

How can I hold this experience and not make it solid, give it room to be fluid, not reject nor make it an identity?  How can I see this is only habit and not a definition of who I am?  The Buddha says,’ Suffering exists but no one who suffers.’  I understand this intellectually and maybe at times know it directly.  Right now I am caught in the whirlpool of understanding and confusion.  Caught in the swirling waters of ignorance, of holding onto a self who is hurting, where the emotions and their body sensations feel solid.  I don’t see the moment to moment arising, the interdependence that brings this to fruition.  I don’t see how I freeze-frame it into my suffering.

NVC says that when we don’t experience choice we must reject or submit.  Hard to feel I have a choice.  I’ve hard-wired this stimuli into my personal heartache.

Another piece of wisdom, act as if you chose it.  I am kicking and screaming into this one.  The best I can do is look.  So I’m looking at my thoughts, my body sensations, the story I tell.  It is like walking on the crumbling edge of a great canyon.  I haven’t fallen so far that I can’t crawl out.  I’d like to think there is steady ground somewhere.  I suspect it is always balancing this edge and only an illusion that solid ground exists.

It’s good I get to work with my aversions.  I don’t want this experience, but without it, I’d have to use the ones I do want.


Love is Elemental

I carry you with me, wherever I am you find me.  You are space.  There is no where I am that you are not.

You are water.  Unimpeded by time, distance, you touch me.  Like a barometer my body measures your presence in surges of pleasure that take my breath, ark my spine and voice in small moans.

I am earth.  You animate me.  Shape me in desire.  Move me to receive and give love.

You are wind blowing the embers of my heart till I know I am fire – consuming and consumed.

Love is elemental.  Like moths in the night, we all flock to its light.

No Cheese or the Unsatisfactory Nature of Cyclic Existence

There is a story of rats and humans. Put a piece of cheese down a tunnel and the rat will go back to the same tunnel looking for the cheese even when it’s never there again. The difference between rats and humans is that the rat will eventually give up but the human never does.

I see myself looking for the cheese in the same circumstances over and over again.

I’m feeling my deep sadness, rage. I wonder how we treat each other in such hurtful ways and skew our vision to make it jibe with our values. I can see how needs are trying to be met but at what cost? Friendships lost, marriages ruined – lies and secrets, hidden agendas.

Us humans, so confused. I’m confused. My highest aspiration is to work for the benefit of others. To only wish them good fortune, to hold their actions with compassion and have empathy for their suffering. Can I offer this to myself?

I want to be the victim in this situation. I don’t believe in victim. Confusion is boundless, where is emptiness of phenomena? I don’t experience this. My hurt feels so close. Betrayal evokes rage. I want to strike out and hurt back those who I feel have wounded me. What is it that I trust in another? Is it shared values that drive a code of conduct I expect? Why would I want to continue in a relationship that offers so little?

Look again.  Are my needs for love being met? My need to be valued by the companion I’m with. I want my gifts to be cherished. Endless cycles of suffering looking for constancy in impermanence.  I am standing on quick sand and wondering why the ground will not support me.  Almost laughable if I could see the uselessness of my actions.  There is no cheese here and never will be.

Old writing when my marriage was in tatters.

So now there is a new love after so long.  My hunger for giving and receiving, to feel the loving touch of another, to languish in the lushness of the open heart.  How sweet this is.  This moment will not believe in change.  Determined that the open heart will not contract from fear of loss, worry of inadequacy, or the unmet needs of wanting to be seen and heard by the beloved. Confidence that brooks no doubt.  Yet woven in this conviction are the whispers – not this time, this time my eyes are open. Perhaps.

Confusion blinds.  What I imagined could not fall victim to past patterns lies exposed in the under belly of my habits.  My belief that this time my wish to be transparent will protect me.  I can catch my demons before they take hold and I am falling into the black hole of my psyche.  Yet here I am again, so full of love and terrified of losing it. Terrified that I chose one who will never meet me.  Terrified that I will sabotage what could be possible.  Terrified that I will run, slamming all the doors behind me to avoid the hurt of loss.

Again I am looking for the cheese in the tunnel where I have made sure there will be none.  I am looking for the feeling of love to be constant.  Refusing to see that love like all phenomena is slippery, shape-shifting, moving in and out of the shadows.  New love is so blind.  It believes in itself and thinks it is immune to the insidious habits that lie in wait – exempt from the truth of suffering.

A human caught in the maze of cyclic existence.