A couple of years ago, when I saw Thich Nhat Hanh at the
Sony Center, I recall him saying that meditation is ‘coming home to our
suffering’. I would like to explore this idea in light of what I read in
Stephen Levine’s Becoming Kuan Yin.
I think that different religions and spiritual practices
will see suffering in different ways. For example, there are some religions
that emphasize our kinship with a higher being,
and the reality that suffering turns one to that higher reality, or
essence. I even recall the metaphor that Iris Murdoch has used in her writings,
of suffering as a kind of separating the soul’s highest good from the soul’s
dross. Suffering, under this view, purifies until people can see the real form
of things. From what I have read and understood from Buddhism, suffering arises
from attachment to certain kinds of views, thoughts, relationships, and
opinions. If I find some space to disengage somewhat from these things, then I
no longer really suffer from them.
One of the biggest forms of suffering is the belief that a
person has some special role to play in the universe that is somehow static and
stays the same in all situations. This
belief is extremely problematic, because the roles we play are continually
changing, as are the needs of self and others. When identities are continually
shifting across different social situations, it’s hard to maintain the view
that our identities are these static, fixed entities. One often needs to
simplify herself in a sense and recognize what is driving her to seek an
unchanging place or role in the universe.
If a person feels this privileged sense of place or
importance in the world, it isn’t long before she or he starts to resent
moments of pain or times when the self is simply not considered significant.
How often have you been in situations where you didn’t feel significant to
others, or as important as you wanted to feel? It has happened to me, and I am
sure that it can happen to all beings sooner or later. But it seems that the
pain of not having a static self that is considered ‘important’ (a kind of ego)
is an inevitable part of life.
It takes a lot of kindness and inner forgiveness to let go
of always wanting to live pain-free and powerful. Levine suggests that Kuan Yin
embodies the element of turning toward pain itself with a spirit of mercy and
forgiveness toward pain, when he remarks:
Kuan Yin suggests developing a
merciful consciousness and sending loving-kindness, even forgiveness, into our
pain rather that judging it as a punishment or a curse. Taking our judgment off
the cross to embrace our pain instead of further rejecting it and condensing it
to suffering. Forgiving ourselves for being, even involuntarily, in so much
pain….Cultivating a merciful consciousness of that which suffering endures and
the compassion necessary to equalize the imbalance. (p.87-88)
I like Levine’s choice of the term ‘merciful consciousness’,
because it entails a new way of thinking or relating to one’s pain. It means that one does not need to stigmatize
pain, or think of pain as a form of punishment for what one hasn’t done, or
hasn’t done well. And the converse of what Levine writes about is a person who
only measures her worth by her ‘successes’, rather than being able to see one’s
worth even in the midst of pain or illness.
It would probably take many pages to expound upon what
merciful consciousness could mean. One form of mercy is to take real quality
time to really feel that one is okay, no matter how severe her pain happens to
feel. By okay, I am talking about the feeling I genuinely give myself when I
recognize the pain I am feeling in the moment, and don’t blame myself for
having that pain. Even when the pain comes from my own decisions in life, it’s
important to recognize that no being wants to suffer, and often the decisions I
make come from a genuine desire to avoid suffering. Even when the outcome might
not be what I expect, there is still a being who wants to get out of suffering,
and that being needs love and mercy.
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