Oh, isn't life a terrible thing, thank God? - Dylan Thomas in the Zen Calendar (April 18, 2003).
Day 264. Today I bade my British friends farewell. We managed to say good-bye the proper English way: Stiff upper lips were maintained by all. I promptly got in my car and sobbed like a baby. Life can be a terrible thing.
Strangely enough, the quote for tonight is from my "favorites" pile. It never fails to reverberate deeply when I come across it each night as I peruse my collection, looking for an appropriate quote. I couldn't imagine what subject matter would warrant it, until now, where it seems perfectly applicable.
I thank the Buddha for the terrible ache in my breast and melancholy in my veins that accompanied bidding cherished friends good-bye. I remembered the words of my analyst as I grappled with terminating ten years of laying on his couch: "Our sadness at saying good-bye lets us know how deeply attached we've become." I say this often during painful endings with my own clients. This difficult parting is an occupational hazard unique to therapists. The good ones are constantly putting themselves out of business.
The Buddhist concept of letting go of attachment is a curious one. After 263 days of sitting, I actually do feel exorbitantly less attached to most material possessions, to the outcome of innumerable situations in my life, to lauding myself as a professional via the countless forums that request it, to the idea that something will be attained through my daily zazen practice. Yet many attachments, or fractions thereof, remain. I struggle with attachment to how I perform on the bike, to the idea of evolving in the direction of being less judgmental and egocentric, and - especially - to the people I love.
The curious part of this attachment/non-attachment conundrum is that my practice of Buddhism is smack at the center of an increasing capacity to love deeply. To connect wholly. To trust rather than fear. To risk rather than avoid. In short, to develop deep and meaningful attachments with the loved ones in my life. It doesn't feel at all dissonant with the principle of non-attachment. I suspect that when attachment is a segment on the continuum of acceptance, connection, and love, it takes on a different meaning. Practicing non-attachment is, paradoxically, a perfect means through which I am learning how to be attached. Such is Zen.
The idea that attachment underlies all suffering is gradually making more sense to me. Attachment to thoughts and ideas and expectations and opinions about how Reality should unfold are bound to result in disappointment. Attachment to loved ones can hurt, too. A lot. Especially when you live on different continents. Caring deeply for others inevitably requires suffering. It is a terrible thing. Thank God.
Gassho,
CycleBuddhaDoc
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Wow, your writing really is amazing!
ReplyDeleteIts a really interesting observation to note how our practice of letting go can actually open us up to even deeper attachments. So I think the practice is not so much about avoiding attachments, as simply understanding them as attachments.
We need goals and attachments in our lives to get through, which is what makes the first noble truth so true. Our lives are inherently unsatisfactory. But understanding the true nature of our goals and attachments allows us to control them, rather than for them to control us.
Glad I read this at the start of the day to set my mind up for my attachments for today.
Gassho
Thank you for your comment, Delbertino. The wisdom of your words "practice is not so much about avoiding attachment, as simply understanding them as attachments" is deeply meaningful to me. Beautifully expressed! Avoiding attachment always smacked of the dualistic thought I try to, uh, avoid. The concept of "attachment with awareness" instinctively feels like I have resolved something important with which I have struggled for a long time. Thank you, and Gassho!
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