Friday, February 10, 2023

The Wisdom of Suffering

This is in continuation of the last essay, Wisdom and Suffering.

People consider physical pain to be reasonable, but mental and emotional pain ("suffering") to be somehow "wrong".  The teaching of many a spiritual or spiritualist teacher is to move toward and eventually attain the "end of suffering".  That is misguided, to put it mildly.

To make this essay more interesting, let us annotate a particular expression of this teaching, as contained in "The two arrows - Pain and Suffering — ShamashAlidina.com".

You are walking in the woods and suddenly you get struck by an arrow (someone fires an arrow at you) and it hits your arm and it really, really hurts - it's very painful and you feel that physical pain in your arm, and it's bleeding. And then immediately your mind starts to think - "Oh my god, what's gonna happen? What if I bleed to death? What if this is infected and I can't walk back properly? Or I lose energy and I can't get back to my family? What's gonna happen to my family? What's gonna be happening to my husband / my wife / my children? What's gonna happen to me or what’s going to happen to their future, how will they be doing?”

Firstly, humans have the amazing capability to look beyond the immediate.  The physical pain is there.  But it would be infantile to just respond to that.  

To continue in the vein of the story, the thoughts of a reasonable man may be: Why did someone fire that arrow at me?  Should I protect myself from further arrows?  Is it possible that I need to seek medical attention?  Is this life-threatening?  If so, do I need to not just seek medical help, but also perhaps worry about my family?

Of course, one can be unreasonably scared, but the mind is hardly perfect.  It is perhaps only in hindsight that one can evaluate whether all the worry was justified or whether it was an overreaction.  With experience, one can learn to overreact less.

The Buddha describes the first arrow as the physical pain and the second arrow is what your mind does - it starts thinking about the worst scenario that can happen. And he says "be warned of the second arrow." 

What is wrong with what the mind does, the "second arrow"?  The mind is doing its job.  Trying to quickly and crudely respond to a threatening situation with a bumble of thoughts.  A trained soldier will respond less crudely, and perhaps know of tourniquets and how to camouflage himself to be safe from further attacks, etc., but a normal individual has no such training.  If in addition to a lack of proper training, one is foolish enough to be guided by the spiritualists to not engage the mind as it furiously scans the scenarios and possible outcomes, one is not likely to survive.

The mind evolved as a survival tool.  It is because of our mental prowess that we have been wildly successful in outclassing all other species on this planet.  Spiritualists are the sworn enemies of the mind and the intellect, because their goal is a thoughtless bliss, and not an increase in wisdom and understanding.

The first arrow is represents the pain - the actual physical pain, and the second arrow represents what you call suffering.  So we distinguish between pain and suffering. 

Mental processes are not per se, suffering.  They are the human response to a situation.  The mind utilizes its collection of learning and instincts to respond to a challenging situation.  These responses are usually far more optimal, but to give up on the mind is an even bigger mistake.  One can train the mind, but to be only in the "here and now" is an invitation to living as an animal or an infant.

Which worry is reasonable, and which worry is imaginary?  You cannot know except by experience.

Consider the response of the passengers in Flight 93 on Sep 11, 2001, a flight doomed to crash and kill them all.  They fully expect to die, and are faced with fear, and thoughts for their family.  Many of them called their loved ones on the phone to send a last message of love.  One can imagine some of them telling their wives of a document in their bedroom drawer which details the various bank accounts.  Would the Buddha have called his wife, if he was on Flight 93?

Pain is something that's inevitable, we all experience that. But the suffering is something that we actually create. But we don't realise that. 

Even pain is subjective, and is created because of a living being's response to a stimulus.  Similarly, our thoughts and worries are our responses to a situation.  This second category of response is not all fantasy.  Our thoughts and worries are usually reasonable.  Can they be unreasonable?  Sure.  

Even simple pain affects people to different degrees.  An infant screams and cries at hitting their toe, but an adult can usually act with more restraint.  Someone can enjoy a cold shower, while another may regard it as a cruel and unusual punishment.

There’s a sense of resistance to it - not accepting it, not allowing it to be there and accepting the reality of the situation. We fight with the reality of the way things are right now and so we turn the pain into suffering or we add suffering on top.

"Fighting with the reality of the way things are right now" is the very definition of life.  Only a stone does not fight.  The very process of survival is to manipulate the "reality".  One can, and would be wise to, accept things that one cannot change, but to accept everything "as it is" is supremely foolish.  As a rather crude example, if you feel a pressure in your bowels, you need to find the toilet, not just accept that pressure "as it is".  If you don't find a functioning toilet, you need to find a bush.  Not accept the absence of a toilet "as it is".  And once your bowels are emptied, you need to find a way to clean yourself, not accept the "reality of the way things are".

The more that you resist or deny or fight or argue with the pain- which is already there;, the more suffering  you experience.  

The fight with a pain is because we want to lessen it.  We fight it in many ways.  We try to find its cause, we try to soothe the injury, we try to find help, we try to protect ourselves from further injury, and so on.  "Pain" is the nerves' response to an unusual state, not conducive to one's well-being.  To just wish for the pain to go away is as childish as accepting it.  The mature response is to want to lessen it and to heal it.

That's a useful story to remember whenever you have any kind of difficult situation. It could be the difficult internal experiences - there could be a difficult emotions like sadness, or anxiety, or frustration, or anger, or it could be to do with difficult thoughts; it could be difficult sensations like literal physical pain or chronic pain. 

Consider a mother whose child has just passed away.  That mother feels immense sorrow.  We hope that her sorrow will lessen and heal with time.  

Should she, when she first receives the news, act as a robot, and process the news merely as a new factoid?

Her sorrow is in a way sacred to her.  It is the other side of her immense love for her child.  Someone who tells her not to feel sad will be called insensitive or worse.  The only way she can avoid that kind of sorrow is if she holds no love or affection for the child to begin with.  

For some mothers, the sorrow can be overwhelming, and they may think of ending their own lives.  But they rarely do.  And in such cases, where the emotional reaction has veered into dangerous territory, the community tries to help.  There are other mothers in the community who may have lost a child, and they know what the mother must be feeling.

Consider "difficult emotions" as first-order emotional responses to a situation.  The second-order response of an adult might be: "No I cannot accept that I am sad", or it can be "Why am I sad, why am I angry," etc., or it may be "I need to accept that I am sad".  It is generally therapeutic to accept the first order response but not to act unreasonably on it.  If one is angry, to accept that one is angry, but not act it out by breaking things in the house.  Even better, to figure out what the trigger was and whether it was reasonable to get angry and what can one do to fix the underlying situation.

"Anger" is a four-letter word on most spiritual paths.  "Anger" is a strong emotional disapproval of a situation and wanting to urgently do something to re-establish an agreeable or a fair state.  It may involve adrenaline and increased blood flow.  Spiritualists will likely say that it is never reasonable to get angry, or sad.  But if we consider anger and sadness as emotional responses to a situation (just like pain is a physical response, and thought and worry are mental responses), as an adult we will seek not to eliminate those emotions, but to act on them in fruitful ways and not in unwholesome ways.

Moreover, as I detailed in my essay on Suffering, affective reactions are "rough and ready" responses when a more considered solution is impractical.  An angry scream at someone bullying and beating a helpless kid is likely to be effective.

Similarly, on witnessing a poor woman being robbed of her savings by an unscrupulous criminal, or learning of how your tax dollars were diverted into the coffers of the corrupt, the emotion of anger is reasonable.  Hopefully, that anger translates into a useful course of action and not in a reckless one.

A man without emotional responses like sadness or anger, is likely also without affection for another human being, and lacking the instincts for justice and fairness.

Wednesday, February 08, 2023

Wisdom and Suffering

 After reading an old post about "Signs of Inner Growth", a friend asked:

I noticed that you did not mention "less suffering" as an outcome of increased wisdom. I am curious if it is because:

a. This is obvious to the extent of being tautological. 

b. Not a worthy goal to pursue

c. Wisdom is independent of reducing suffering

d. None of the above

It is a good question, and worthy of a nuanced response.

I have written earlier about suffering (and I recommend the reader go through that essay first), but let me address this pointed question here.

Suffering is essentially the recognition and response to a disagreeable state of affairs.  One's response to a disagreeable state can be a mix of physiological, intellectual or emotional/affective distress.  As long as one is alive, there will always be such states of affairs.

The state of affairs may pertain to a narrow realm: to one's health, financial security, or one's family.  Or it may be about a wider realm: about the poor, about the exploited orphans, and in general about the state of the world.

One's response is also not set in stone, and one can train oneself to be stronger (physically, intellectually and emotionally).  A physically stronger person will be able to endure a long walk while the same walk will cause distress in another.  An intellectual quandary or uncertainty (how to save taxes, how to prepare for retirement, how to shield one's children from unwholesome influences) can be distressing to someone without the inner or outer tools to resolve it.  And of course, there are degrees of emotional health.  One can be a reactive, short-tempered, angry individual, or one can be patient and empathetic.

Many forms of trainings are available to become stronger physically, intellectually or emotionally.

As one expands one's intellectual and emotional horizons, it is quite possible, nay, almost certain, that one realizes that one suffers more than before.  One may become more aware of others' suffering, one may realize alarming facts which are unknown to many, one may become more acutely conscious of the need to do something, one may form new goals which hold no charm for others.  "Ignorance is bliss" is indeed true in many ways.

A fit individual may decide to climb the north face of K2 and die doing so.

An intellectually advanced man may spend years and decades and die looking for a solution to whether P=NP.

An emotionally advanced individual may leave a well-paying job and spend years creating a new kind of painting or sculpture (as was depicted in Maugham's "Of Moon and Sixpence").

You may say that the artist suffered in a 9-5 job, and so his leaving his job is not really a sacrifice, that it is a reduction of his suffering.  That will be a simplistic reading of such a situation.  The artist is not looking to reduce his suffering, he is willing to suffer for something that is meaningful to him.  

Consider Buddha's leaving of his family.  Did that cause new kinds of suffering?  Was the Buddha assured of his goal when he left his palace?  Did he carefully weigh which path was less prone to future suffering, for himself or for his family, or for humanity?  

Or did he follow his instinct, and his prodigious passion, to do something that he felt was impossible in his palace.

There are many such Buddhas around us.  They sacrifice the popular and easy pleasures for the rare and long-winded ones.

To want to suffer less is natural, but it is not the goal of human life, as we observe humanity.  The quickest and most effective way to end suffering is to commit suicide, but we know that people live, and want to live.  They endure pain and suffering for achieving something that is meaningful to them.  A mother faces immense risk and pain to give birth to a child and to care for it, but the love for one's child (the bringer of suffering) is almost universal.  An inventor or an entrepreneur plunges himself into uncertainty and possible ridicule because of his ambition.

To avoid extreme suffering is essential to human growth, and a distinction has already been made between "distress" (harmful stress), and "eustress" (beneficial stress).

If you find yourself handicapped by your distress, by all means reduce it.  And use wholesome tools to do so (rather than tools which harm you in other ways).  And then move forward.  The goal is not to be free of distress.  That is just the beginning.

And similarly, it is noble and worthwhile to want to reduce others' distress so that they may also pursue their meaningful goals.

The goal is not merely to have a shiny, smoothly-running car.  That is just a prerequisite for your journey.  

The car is washed and serviced.  Where should you go?  There is no one answer.  The world is wide-open for you.

Similarly, once your mind is free from debilitating distress, that's when you can truly begin to evolve and achieve.

So what is the relationship between wisdom and suffering?  Wisdom is to understand things more deeply, and therefore, a wise man understands his suffering because he understands himself.  He may accept a disease, or being alone, or being poor, or the corruption in politics, in ways which seem inexplicable to others.

He could be immune to certain kinds of suffering, but he may choose other, new kinds of suffering in furtherance of goals that his wisdom has now revealed to him.  

Wednesday, March 30, 2022

The Home and The Heart, full text

Those interested in reading or sharing this series can download it as a single PDF document.

I am grateful for the many letters and notes and messages that you have sent after reading this series.  Thank you.

Those who wish to read it online, here is the table of contents in order:

  1. The Last Supper
  2. The House of Usher
  3. The Five Words
  4. The Compliment
  5. The Pain of Love
  6. The Way Home
  7. The Weightless Weight
  8. A Few Thousand Words
  9. Post Tenebras, Lux
  10. Postscript


Monday, March 28, 2022

The Home and The Heart, Postscript

I trust I have not wasted breath:
I think we are not wholly brain,
Magnetic mockeries; not in vain,
Like Paul with beasts, I fought with Death;

Not only cunning casts in clay:
Let Science prove we are, and then
What matters Science unto men,
At least to me? I would not stay.

Let him, the wiser man who springs
Hereafter, up from childhood shape
His action like the greater ape,
But I was born to other things.

I had not intended to write this series.  But over time, I realized that the pain of that period still lingered in me.  I felt responsible for all that had happened.  To see a loved one go through so much pain and suffering is not easy, especially if that pain and suffering is a result of decisions that were made.  She trusted me to make those decisions, and I made them with the utmost care.  I read every medical journal that talked about valve thrombosis, the various approaches to treating it, the risks of thrombolysis versus re-do valve surgery, the mechanics of heart bypass, the mechanism and aftermath of embolic strokes, and so on.  I asked innumerable questions to her doctors.  I got second opinions.  I read of thrombolytic agents and which ones to use and what dosage was to be applied.

But in the end, our hand was forced by her deteriorating condition and by the many doctors who told us there was no other way but to operate on her.

Before giving our consent to heart surgery, I had asked her a question.  I had asked her if I was in a similar situation, if my heart had failed, and all the doctors were telling us that surgery was my only option, would she have tried to persuade an unwilling me to go through with it?  To my continued distress to this day, she had said that she, gentle and loving as she is, would have not.

Perhaps she did not realize the gravity of her situation.  But the fact remains that I, advised by the doctors, made her agree to the re-do surgery.

We, or rather I, made the decision to go in.  I was the one who signed the consent form, acknowledging that I understood the risks.  I live with that decision, and its aftermath.

Though it is not part of the standard protocol, I wish I had asked the hospital to do a brain scan on her during the 40 hours that she was unconscious after her heart surgery.  I wish I knew that there was major risk of a vascular accident during or after her surgery and I wish we had caught the stroke in time.  In the aftermath, I asked the attending surgeons and doctors to revise their protocol to include this check, but I do not know if anything will come of my recommendation.

But I was not, and am not, a medical professional.  I trusted the hospital and the doctors and the medical journals.  But my wife - she only trusted me.  I cherish this trust, but I also have to live with the responsibility of this trust.

If I was an illiterate man who had little idea of pressure gradients in the heart, I would have taken the relatively easier path of just accepting the doctors' decisions.  I would not have made them "my" decisions.  I would have obeyed the experts and accepted every procedure, every complication, fatalistically.  But I was born to know, and to question, and so I also have to live with the limits of my knowledge and with the limited knowledge of the experts.  They, and I, tried to do their best, but it was not good enough.

The difference is: the doctors went home and attended to other patients the next day.  My wife's post-surgical complications would be a statistic in their long career.  But for my wife, and for me, our life was transformed in those few days.  We, as all patients, have to live the rest of our lives with the consequences, while for the doctors it is, hopefully, a learning.

It was not their fault.  I believe they tried their very best.  I hold no bitterness toward them.

This pain in me is mine own.  It is irrational, but I do not deny it.

It is not unlike the pain of a mother who kissed and goaded her unwilling child into the school bus, and the child later bled to his death in a bus accident.  She was hardly "responsible".  She did everything out of immense love and with the very best of intentions.  But if you are at all human, you will understand her guilt.

To heal the pain of that decision of mine, and the immense suffering for her that followed, this series is an attempt at what I can only term as Penance.  It is my cross to bear, and through my writing, I hope to, perhaps, forgive myself.

The second reason is to give anybody who reads this series a message of hope and love.  To give the reader a sense of home and of being away from it, and what it means to one's heart.  To communicate the power of love.  To tell the reader that it is possible to transcend tragedy and darkness.  It may not always be possible, and every story is different, but our story ends as a beginning.  We were fortunate, and blessed, to have come through, and I wanted to share this tale of overcoming.

Lastly, this series is a tribute to my wife, and to the love in her heart.  She is a marvelous woman: simple, loving and truthful.  She has not seen much of the world, and perhaps because of that, she is innocent in a way that is rare and remarkable.

She will perhaps never want to, or be able to, write her story in the way I have done.  She may never read it.  It will be too traumatic for her to recall those times in this detail.  But her story needed to be told, I feel.  She is of this earth, an unknown woman, but this story of her struggle needed to be better known.  It is my homage to her resilience, her patience, and to her fortitude.

I thought I knew much.  But she has taught me much more.

...

Through this, I remain grateful to our two friends, and our siblings, especially my younger brother, who all shall remain unnamed, and who gave us their time, their energy and their affection.  To her parents, and to mine, who worried for us and sent her their prayers.  And to our well-wishers, who remained concerned for our well-being.

The Home and The Heart, part IX

Chapter IX

Post Tenebras, Lux

I am reborn.  I have come through. 

When I was born the first time, the first child, the daughter, I was named after the full moon.  And today, as then, I am bathed in light.

From the bottomless labyrinth of the deepest despair, I have risen.  I have crept and I have crawled and I have climbed, and climbed till I could breathe no more, and I see the sun now.

There was that time, and a dreadful time it was, when I did not even dream.  I was in the darkest valley one could scarce imagine, and I was all alone.  I did not know how I had fallen, and how I would rise again.  They had broken my back and my ribs, and they had put daggers into me.  I had bled in cascades to within a whisper of death.

I was parched and not a drop of water did I find.  My tongue and my lips had become heavy with salt.  I could hear nothing but strange sounds of creatures I had never seen or known of.  In that dreamless dark night, I floated endlessly.  I tried to hold on to something, anything, that could bear my mass, but there was nothing.  I felt weightless, emotionless, thoughtless.  That world was empty, and endless, and without relief.

But the faint embers of my life had not totally extinguished.  They pulsed with the little drops of blood that were left in my broken frame.  My heart was beating, ever so feebly, with little to flow in my veins.  With only one hand, my left, I tried to pour the elixir of hope on those embers.  But there was no hope left in me.

As night flowed into endless night, I saw, or did I dream? a distant light.  A faint light it was, but it was there.  That soothing light made the infinite darkness seem less frightful.

That light was not unfamiliar, but I did not recognize it fully then.

Was this the light that I had seen eons ago?  Its memory seemed buried in a far corner of my being.  Was this the light around which I had circled one day? It was that, wasn’t it?

I was tired beyond my limits.  I wanted to just sleep forever, but that light!  That light danced and that light came closer and caressed my shattered limbs.  As I slipped into slumber, toward eternal sleep, that light gently shook me again into wakefulness.

That light became my hope.  If there was this light, this darkness surely was not endless, it had its end.  It was not infinite, as it had seemed.

As I, with effortless effort, rose from my tired slumber, the light entered me and lit me from within.  I held it, or did it hold me I wonder.  I would not let it go now.  I treasured it, nourished it, and made it my most precious friend.

My fears and pains were there still, but that radiance made them bearable.  I breathed in the air around me.  With that light in me, the air was no longer a stranger.  I could not speak, nor was there another soul to hear my silence.  But that light within my being told me that I was not alone.

It told me that I had many dreams to dream, that I had many mountains yet to see, that many swans and seagulls were waiting for me in their oceans.  That I was again going to kiss that red sparrow in my orchid that used to prance near my feet. That what was broken could be made whole again.  

But I had to follow the light and not get lost again.

As I let that light be my guide, it gave me strength and hope.  I thought my journey toward the sun was going to be eternal, but the light whispered to me that it wasn’t.  That only if I did not give up, only if I kept walking through my despair, I would find that my despair was not my master.  That I would overcome it.

And through many strange mazes and tunnels and doorways did I pass.  And I kept on.  Resolute, hopeful, fearful, I kept on.

As I emerged into the light of the sun and fulfilled my destiny, I realized, with bliss, what that inner light was.  The light of the sun was much grander, and astonishing to behold, but my own light inside of me was its part.

The light of the sun and the light within me had become one.  They merged, and showed me that I was that light.

That light was love. 

Because I had found and cherished love in my heart, I was able to see love beyond me.  And that love, within and without, was me.  

I had become love.  I was love.  I am love.  

My glow, which isn't only mine anymore, is the absolute utter and pure benediction of life.

My journey from darkness to light doesn't end here, as my journey in light has just begun.  The mountains and the oceans await me.  As it once was, so it shall be again, that I shall be true to my name, and I shall take my ancient place with the stars.

I stretch my arms and my love expands to all that is visible and invisible.  I was adrift, and now I am home.  And my home and my heart are one.

I bless all those who are lost, and those who are on their journey.  May all those who drift into darkness find their light again.  May their hearts be home.

ॐ असतोमा सद्गमय । Lead us from the unreal to the real
तमसोमा ज्योतिर्गमय । Lead us from darkness to light
मृत्योर्मामृतं गमय ।। Lead us from death to deathlessness
ॐ शान्ति शान्ति शान्तिः ।।  May there be peace in all

The End