compassion

The energy it takes to cool the flames and cook a potato

Well, here we are. Ever feel like you’ve been on one of those long car rides where you’re left wind-swept and cramped, wondering how you made it all in one piece, somehow stayed on the road, forward moving and able to drive the distance with enough fuel in the tank to arrive?  Somehow, we made it to this moment, just as it is.  I’ve been thinking about the energy it takes to sustain tension, and how is it we move through difficulty.  It really does consume a tremendous amount of energy to fuel emotions like anger and be carried off course by stress.  So, what are our options?

As a child, I thought that anger itself was a problem and the best way to deal with it was to simply not feel it.  Just one problem–it shows up anyway.  (Enjoy a laughter break.)  When we’re seeing clearly, it’s painfully obvious to recognize that denial doesn’t help, nor does dressing up difficult feelings to make them more attractive.  There’s not enough lip gloss in the world, and yet, that’s often how we react to angst.  Feelings of embarrassment, blame, or maybe even getting downright frustrated and angry at the anger might follow the initial surge. 

However, mindfulness invites us to explore big emotions like anger with an attitude of curious kindness.  Could it be that anger is a helping feeling, able to warn us when something isn’t quite right, when our own values are being compromised or boundaries have been crossed?  When regarded with compassion, might anger be channeled into informed action and engaged citizenship?  Anger can serve as the impetus for justice and advocacy responsible for so much necessary change.  

Accepting the reality of anger, along with every other emotion, is an essential starting point to finding peace.  Big feelings are in indication that we are deeply alive, engaged in “the full catastrophe” as Zorba the Greek had said.  (Jon Kabat-Zinn titled his book on the evidence-based 8-week Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction Program after this quote, Full Catastrophe Living, a nod to the fullness of our human condition.)  When we’re able to honor the transformative nature of this powerful emotion, we can harness the energy of distress toward more productive means.    

So where to begin?  Mindfulness is the wisdom to allow the raw emotion of anger to soften with kind, compassionate attention.  Vietnamese Zen Master and peace activist Thich Nhat Hanh has a book on the topic, called Anger:  Wisdom for Cooling the Flames.  In this book, he uses the analogy of the potato:  if you are hungry and bite into a raw potato, it will not be good and will taste bitter.  If we tend the fire and allow the potato space to cook, to be transmuted, it will soften in time.  Now we can be nourished.  

Sounds simple enough.  Just boil a potato, right?  Yet, we often complicate things and continue the whole miserable endeavor when engaged in this futile feast.  Let’s call it full catastrophe dining:  complain to our company about the raw potato, blame the waiter for screwing up our order, demand to have a word with the chef who is responsible for the acerbic little spud.  But, alas, we are the cooks, and we have only ourselves to sit with.  It’s when we’ve listened patiently enough, recognized our own habits of reactivity, sat with kindness through difficulty, perhaps inquiring deeply of ourselves, that we can take in and be nourished by what is in front of us.  So, we might start by asking, how might I direct my energy?   Can we sit and allow changing conditions to convert anger into usable energy?

Thich Nhat Hahn says, “Your anger is like that—it needs to be cooked.  In the beginning it is raw.  You cannot eat raw potatoes.  Your anger is very difficult to enjoy, but if you know how to take care of it, to cook it, then the negative energy of your anger will become the positive energy of understanding and compassion.  You can do it.”  If it helps, he encourages practicing mindful breathing and mindful walking while anger softens.  Practice peace in every step and patience with our potatoes.  They really are best enjoyed cooked, and now we have a recipe for the raw ones.  

Lessons from an earthworm on love and resilience

Love is not always so sweet. Sure, the syrupy quality of love is often a bit “in our face” during February, but we know from our own experience that love can get down-right mucky at times. The gritty, dirty, grubby underbelly of love doesn’t get much coverage. It’s too bad. Which brings me to the earthworm. 

When I was little, I learned some valuable lessons from an earthworm. While it might sound like an unlikely teacher to some, know that I enjoyed much of my childhood playing in the woods, happily digging in the dirt, hair entangled. Back in those early days, I remember learning that, when cut in half, worms can regenerate and grow a new tail. Talk about resilience! This icky truth piqued my curiosity and desire to understand what could inspire the worm to grow back. As I grew older, I came to understand that, when it comes to growth and thriving, “it’s complicated.” Now, the biological details are important concerning the circumstances and conditions allowing this healing to go down, as is the type of worm, but let’s dig for the larger lesson here. How might we heal out of our own wounds?  

Were it not for love, we would not have access to the motivation and drive to grow, learn, care, and love in return. I recall the research study conducted about 70 years ago now by Harry Harlow with rhesus monkeys that suggests love is essential to promoting healthy development. Could it be that love is as essential to our growth as food, water, and safety? What if we considered love as foundational to our capacity to thrive; a core competency we may spend a lifetime improving upon? Which brings me back to the earthworm . . .

How do we respond under stress? When faced with challenge, can we channel our limited energy to regenerating and growing? When cut through to the core, can we recognize our own vast potential and reach toward new possibility?

The lessons from the earthworm stay with me; how we, too, only come to know love through the pain of loss. Sometimes this impulse toward regenerative love naturally arises, expanding easily from within. And during times of suffering, we may find it quite unexpectedly, buried deep in the earthy loam of our experience, hidden below the surface. Psychotherapist and meditation teacher Tara Brach has said, “The alchemy of compassion is to let ourselves be touched by suffering, including our own.” Meeting suffering with kindness fertilizes the soil that sustains love. This vulnerability invites us to push up our sleeves and really get our hands dirty, meeting this raw material of life. Now that’s love.