June 20: Whalemeat, Dukkha, Chicken Pot Pie

The planet of Magrathea is not what the crew of the Heart of Gold expected . . .

Trillian hugged herself, shivered and frowned.  She could have sworn she saw a slight and unexpected movement out of the corner of her eye, but when she glanced in that direction all she could see was the ship, still and silent, a hundred yards or so behind them.

She was relieved when a second or so later they caught sight of Zaphod standing on top of the ridge of ground and waving for them to come and join him.

He seemed to be excited, but they couldn't clearly hear what he was saying because of the thinnish atmosphere and the wind.

As they approached the ridge of higher ground they became aware that it seemed to be circular--a crater about a hundred and fifty yards wide.  Round the outside of the crater the sloping ground was spattered with black and red lumps.  They stopped and looked at a piece.  It was wet.  It was rubbery.

With horror they suddenly realized that it was fresh whalemeat.

At the top of the crater's lip they met Zaphod.

"Look," he said, pointing into the crater.

In the center lay the exposed carcass of a lonely sperm whale that hadn't lived long enough to be disappointed with its lot.  The silence was only disturbed by the slight involuntary spasms of Trillian's throat.  

"I suppose there's no point in trying to bury it?" murmured Arthur, and then wished he hadn't.

The results of an innocent sperm whale suddenly appearing miles above the planet and then plummeting to its inevitable death.  The Heart of Gold crew are confronting the results of engaging the Improbability Drive and causing a death.  It's a painful moment for some of them.

Of course, in life, pain is inevitable.  If you are a human being, you will experience heartbreak, loss, and grief.  Think about it.  With the first breath you take, you begin the process of dying.  It may be 80 or 90 years away.  It may be hours away.  The march of time in unavoidable.

Not surprisingly, Archbishop Tutu and the Dalai Lama have some words to share about dealing with pain in life.  The first Noble Truth of Buddhism is that life is filled with dukkha (the stress and anxiety that arise from the attempt to control what is fundamentally impermanent and unable to be controlled).  Thus, dukkha can consist of dealing with your mother who has Alzheimer's or watching your sister die of lymphoma of the brain.  You want to control these circumstances, make your loved one whole and well again.  But you can't.  So, you experience dukkha. 

The Dalai Lama says, "People would like to be able to take a pill that makes their fear and anxiety go away and makes them immediately feel peaceful.  This is impossible."

The Dalai Lama is not (and I'm not) discrediting the use of psychiatric drugs to deal with conditions like depression or bipolar or schizophrenia.  Those are medical conditions that require (for most people) the use of medications to alleviate the pain caused by them.  My wife benefits daily from such prescriptions.  What the Dalai Lama is talking about is something deeper--a discontent or void that seems bottomless, filled with fear and anxiety. 

This void could exist in your job or in your home.  The natural reaction to these feelings of emptiness is to try to find something to fill that hole.  Some people turn to drugs.  Some to food.  Some to pornography.  Some to indiscriminate sex with strangers.  There's a reaching for an immediate fix, and these pleasures that I've just listed provide (for a very brief moment) pleasure.  However, after that very brief moment, those anxieties and fears return, and the void seems even deeper and darker.

Of course, the answer to dukkha doesn't exist anywhere outside of yourself.  It is a matter of acceptance and letting go.  I can't control anything but my own reaction to bad things.  My attitude makes the difference.

So, the lesson of joy for today is that pain is inevitable.  I will stub my toe.  I will lose people whom I love.  I will worry about my children.  However, if I recognize my powerlessness in these situations and give them up to my Higher Power, I will be able to reestablish the joy in my day-to-day existence.

Saint Marty is letting go tonight, and celebrating the grace of a chicken pot pie for dinner.

And a poem that touches upon letting go/emptying yourself from the newly named Poet Laureate of the United States, Joy Harjo . . .

Ah, Ah

by:  Joy Harjo

Ah, ah cries the crow arching toward the heavy sky over the marina.
Lands on the crown of the palm tree.

Ah, ah slaps the urgent cove of ocean swimming through the slips.
We carry canoes to the edge of the salt.

Ah, ah groans the crew with the weight, the winds cutting skin.
We claim our seats.  Pelicans perch in the draft for fish.

Ah, ah beats our lungs and we are racing into the waves.
Though there are worlds below us and above us, we are straight ahead.

Ah, ah tattoos the engines of your plane against the sky--away from these waters.
Each paddle stroke follows the curve from reach to loss.

Ah, ah calls the sun from a fishing boat with a pale, yellow sail.  We fly by
on our return, over the net of eternity thrown out for stars.

Ah, ah scrapes the hull of my soul.  Ah, ah.

June 19: Don't You Understand, Change Your Attitude, Ice Cream

Arthur explains why, standing on the blighted surface of the planet of Magrathea, he finds what he sees "fantastic" . . .

"No," Arthur insisted, "don't you understand, this is the first time I've actually stood on the surface of another planet . . . a whole alien world . . . !  Pity it's such a dump though."

Yes, I'm stopping at one paragraph tonight, because Arthur pretty much sums up what I want to talk about tonight. 

I'm sure you've all had a parent tell you to "change your attitude" and "be happy with what you have."  I heard it a lot as a kid.  I have said it to my children more times than I can count.  I don't make a whole lot of money with my jobs.  My wife works part-time at the local OfficeMax.  We haven't moved since we started our family.  We currently live in a three-bedroom (formerly two-bedroom)/one bathroom household.  Our house is what kind people and realtors would call "cozy."  Other (perhaps more realistic) people would call it "small" or "cramped."

There have been many days when I've dreamed of a bigger home--a place with four bedrooms, two bathrooms, a big kitchen with an island, and a bathroom that doesn't contain our washing machine.  Maybe even a library/writing room.  I'm human.  I easily give into envy and slide into the hole of self-pity.  However, I also know that I will never experience joy by focusing on what doesn't exist in my life.

It's all about attitude.  Being grateful for my blessings.  In order to lead a truly happy life, Archbishop Desmond Tutu says you must "be a reservoir of joy, an oasis of peace, a pool of serenity that can ripple out to all those around you."  In order to be this, I need to look at the books on my shelves, the clothes in my closet, my beautiful wife and daughter, my funny son, and be at peace.  Know that 99% of the people in the world don't have as much as I have.  In comparison, I'm wealthy.

It's all about attitude.  Sure, I've been dealing with struggles these last few months.  Tutu and the Dalai Lama claim that "the way to heal our own pain is actually by turning to the pain of others."  So, we must not only be an oasis of peace and joy for other people, we must also be a reservoir of compassion and spiritual generosity, as well.  That's why, when facing national or international tragedies (things that seem to have nothing to do with our day-to-day lives), we come together, collect money, donate blood, gather food and clothing.

Human beings are social animals, and we do not thrive in isolation.  Joy is multiplied by sharing it with more people, and pain is diminished when people come together in grief and loss and struggle.  That's how things work in the universe. 

Tonight, I feel like being alone.  Wallowing in isolation.  However, I haven't done that.  I'm sitting in my parents' living room with my mother and two of my sisters.  We had dinner together.  We've talked about our daily irritations, shared moments of laughter.  By doing this, I have made my night not all about me.  It's about my mom's dementia.  My sister's Alzheimer's.  It's about the tortellini I ate a little while ago.  The garlic bread I'm taking home for my wife and son.

Cultivating an attitude of joy is about being connected--not through text messages or Facebook posts.  That's not real joy.  That's outsiders trying to convince the world how wonderful their lives are.  It's false joy, based on other people's envy.

My happiest moment of the last two days--taking my son to get ice cream last night.  He had birthday cake ice cream.  I had an M&M flurry.  He didn't have his Nintendo with him.  I left my phone in the car.  We just had each other.  And, without recording it on Facebook as proof, we were happy.

Saint Marty needs more ice cream moments like that in his life.

June 18: Dullish Gray, Dalai Lama and Archbishop Desmond Tutu, Joy

The planet of Magrathea is . . . underwhelming . . .

Five figures wandered slowly over the blighted land.  Bits of it were dullish gray, bits of it dullish brown, the rest of it rather less interesting to look at.  It was like a dried-out marsh, now barren of all vegetation and covered with a layer of dust about an inch thick.  It was very cold.

Zaphod was clearly rather depressed about it.  He stalked off by himself and was soon lost to sight behind a slight rise in the ground.

The wind stung Arthur's eyes and ears, and the stale thin air clasped his throat.  However, the thing that was stung most was his mind.

"It's fantastic . . ." he said, and his own voice rattled his ears.  Sound carried badly in this thin atmosphere.  

"Desolate hole, if you ask me," said Ford.  "I could have more fun in a cat litter."  He felt mounting irritation.  Of all the planets in all the star systems of all the Galaxy--many wild and exotic, seething with life--didn't he just have to turn up at a dump like this after fifteen years of being a castaway?  Not even a hot-dog stand in evidence.  He stooped down and picked up a cold clod of earth, but there was nothing underneath it worth crossing thousands of light-years to look at.

So, the crew of the Heart of Gold is not happy about where they have landed.  In fact, they are depressed, stung, stale, and irritated.  All of those words do not evoke joy or excitement.  They evoke day-after-a-nuclear-apocalypse.

Currently, I'm reading a book titled The Book of Joy.  It's about the meeting of two of the most important spiritual leaders of the twentieth century--the Dalai Lama and Archbishop Desmond Tutu.  They spend a week together, discussing one specific subject:  joy.  What it is.  How to cultivate it.  How to sustain it.  How to live it. 

I can honestly say that I have reread some of the Dalai Lama's pronouncements many times  They make sense, and then they perplex me.  Tutu, on the other hand, comes from a Christian tradition, and I understand his words much quicker.

You see, I'm seeking a way to embrace joy in my life.  For the last few months (for various reasons), I've been walking around in a dullish gray/dullish brown haze.  I've had moments of joy and happiness, but depression has had a strong grip on many of my days.

Tonight, I came across this little bit of knowledge from my reading:  "There are four independent brain circuits that influence our lasting well-being"--

1. "our ability to maintain positive states"--if you can do this, you're on the road to a joyful day
2. "our ability to recover from negative states"--obviously, negativity enters your day, but being able to resist staying in that abyss is another key to joy
3. "our ability to focus and avoid mind-wandering"--this circuit involves meditation and/or prayer and the ability to avoid the niggling voices of doubt and fear
4. "our ability to be generous"--this one involves cooperation, compassion, and empathy, with yourself and everyone else you encounter

I have to admit that I struggle with the second and third circuits.  A lot.  I tend to dwell on the negative, allow it to sometimes drive the car of my life.  And I am prone to those whispers of doubt and fear.  Many times a day, I will be doing something that brings me happiness and joy, and suddenly, some part of my brain says, "Yes, but . . ."  Fill in that blank with whatever dampens the spirit and brings darkness into the light.

That is my self-revelation for this evening.  I need to work on my well-being circuits.  Need to pray and meditate more, in whatever form works for me.  Most of the time, it's writing.  Plus, I need to somehow quiet my doubts and fears and suspicions.  All of those things are related to trying to control aspects of my life over which I have no control whatsoever.

This is what I plan to do tonight to combat these negative parts of myself:

1. I will write in my journal.  Lay all of my worries on the page, and then I will let them go.  Give them up to my higher power.
2. In doing that writing, I will give those whispering voices time to say what they want on the page, and then I will close my journal and silence them.

Saint Marty craves joy in his life.  Time to take a few steps in the right direction.

A face of joy . . .