June 21: A Really Miserable Time, Fight or Flight, Challenges

The crew of the Heart of Gold deals with the death of a sperm whale on the surface of an alien planet . . .

"Come," said Zaphod, and started back down into the crater.

"What, down there?" said Trillian with severe distaste.

"Yeah," said Zaphod, "come on, I've got something to show you."

"We can see it," said Trillian.

"Not that," said Zaphod, "something else.  Come on."

They all hesitated.

"Come on," insisted Zaphod.  "I've found a way in."

"In?" said Arthur in horror.

"Into the interior of the planet!  An underground passage.  The force of the whale's impact cracked it open, and that's where we have to go.  Where no man has trod these five million years, into the very depths of time itself . . ."

Marvin started his ironical humming again.  

Zaphod hit him and he shut up.

With little shudders of disgust they all followed Zaphod down the incline into the crater, trying very hard to avoid looking at its unfortunate creator.

"Life," said Marvin dolefully, "loathe it or ignore it, you can't like it."

The ground caved in where the whale had hit it, revealing a network of galleries and passages, now largely obstructed by collapsed rubble and entrails.  Zaphod had made a start clearing a way into one of them, but Marvin was able to do it rather faster.  Dank air wafted out of its dark recesses, and as Zaphod shone a flashlight into it, little was visible in the dusty gloom.

"According to legends," he said, "the Magratheans lived most of their lives underground.

"Why's that?" said Arthur.  "Did the surface become too polluted or overpopulated?"

"No, I don't think so," said Zaphod.  "I think they just didn't like it very much."

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" said Trillian, peering nervously into the darkness.  "We've been attacked once already, you know."

"Look, kid, I promised you the live population of this planet is nil plus the four of us, so come on, let's get on in there.  Er, hey, Earthman . . ."

"Arthur," said Arthur.

"Yeah, could you just sort of keep this robot with you and guard this end of the passageway.  Okay?"

"Guard?" said Arthur.  "What from?  You just said there's no one here."

"Yeah, well, just for safety, okay?" said Zaphod.

"Whose?  Yours or mine?"

"Good lad.  Okay, here we go."

Zaphod scrambled down into the passage, followed by Trillian and Ford.

"Well, I hope you all have a really miserable time," complained Arthur.  

"Don't worry," Marvin assured him, "they will."

In a few seconds they had disappeared from view.

Arthur stamped around in a huff, and then decided that a whale's graveyard is not on the whole a good place to stamp around in.

Marvin eyes him balefully for a moment, and then turned himself off.

Zaphod and Trillian and Ford are heading into a dark subterranean passage beneath a crater created by a falling whale on a planet whose inhabitants just tried to blast them out of the sky with nuclear warheads.  If that is not the definition of a stressful situation, I don't know what is.

Stress is something that everyone deals with, at work, at home, on the drive from home to work.  It's something that makes the heart beat faster and the lungs work harder.  Usually, stress is induced by some perceived threat, and the body's reaction to it is ancient.  Fight or flight.  Imagine a cave person encountering a hungry saber-toothed tiger.  The reaction is either to protect yourself by battling it, or running like hell.  (Either way, the cave person is dinner.)  So, the physiological reaction to stress is heavily implanted in our DNA.

It seems like I always have stress.  I work in a cardiology office where patients frequently call with life-threatening complaints--chest pain, arm pain, shortness of breath.  During the school year, I couple this stress with teaching at a university.  That's a whole other kind of stress--grading and lesson planning and (sometimes) counseling troubled students.

And then there's financial stress and family stress.  Even though I work three jobs (and my wife works a part-time job, as well), it's always the same story--too many bills, not enough paycheck.  I just can't get away from this problem.  Of course, family carries its own brand of stress, requiring more energy and money and time.

I'm not complaining here.  These are just the facts.  Throw into the mix car problems or college tuition or addiction, and you have the makings of a pretty good soap opera or a night at the Saint Marty household.

The Book of Joy says this about stress:  "One simply notices the fight-or-flight stress response in one's body--the beating heart, the pulsing blood or tingling feeling in your hands and face, the rapid breathing--then remembers that these are natural responses to stress and that our body is just preparing to rise to the challenge."  Instead of giving into fear or tensions, the book suggests a rebranding of stress.  Instead of viewing a bill as stress, it is simply a challenge.  When struggling with addiction, a person is challenged to become better, sober, and generous of heart.

I suppose that using the term "challenge" is more constructive.  a challenge is something that can be dealt with and overcome.  Stress, on the other hand, is nebulous and frightening.  It's the Blob oozing under your bedroom door, ready to consume you.  I'd rather deal with a challenge than an alien life form.

So, it is Friday, and the weekend is stretching before me right now.  I have some challenges these next couple days.  I have to mow my lawn.  Clean my house.  Host my book club.  I would like to run away from some of these things.  However, I will fight the good fight, overcome these bumps in the road, and find some peace and joy.

Here is how the Dalai Lama deals with stress:  ". . . if I relate to others, thinking that I am the Dalai Lama, I will create the basis for my own separation and loneliness.  After all, there is only one Dalai Lama in the entire world.  In contrast, if I see myself primarily in terms of myself as a fellow human, I will then have more than seven billion people who I can feel deep connection with.  And this is wonderful, isn't it?  What do you need to fear or worry about when you have seven billion other people who are with you?"

Again, it's all about connection.  In my life, I surround myself with loving people.  Friends and family whom I know will make me laugh, give me hugs, say "I love you" when I need it.  Sharing stress is one of the best ways I know to overcome life's challenges/stresses.

Saint Marty sends his love out into the world this Friday night.  If you drop by Saint Marty's house tonight, he'll probably hand you a mop and tell you to love his bathroom floor.

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 . . .

May 21: Vaporous Goodness, Yoga, Visions of Goodness

Once, when his son was only five or six and they were sitting on a beach by Lake Sebago, watching the water, Robert asked [Ives] what God looked like.  It was that time of day when the changing light and wind had made the water choppy and mysterious, when the silt had risen like clouds of dark milk from the lake bed to just below the surface.  In those moments, when Ives told Robert, "God is a spirit," he imagined Him as a vaporous  goodness inside people's being.

Much of Mr. Ives' Christmas concerns goodness inside people's being.  There is no real bad guy in the novel.  There are flawed people.  Ives' best friend physically assaults his own son, has an affair on his wife, and worries that his son is "a fairy."  Then there's the teenager who kills Ives' son.  For decades, Ives is tormented by his inability to forgive Danny Gomez.  Yet, Gomez repents, turns his life around, and for years tries to meet Ives to apologize for his stupid, violent act.  Eventually, Ives and Gomez meet, and Ives sees the goodness in Gomez's being.  Nobody is beyond redemption in Ives' world.  I think that's why I love the book so much.  It is laced with darkness and tragedy, but, in the end, it embraces a vision of a broken world populated by good people.

I went to a yoga class this evening at the gym at which I'm a member.  It's the first time I've sat in on the class.  I knew it wasn't going to be easy.  All those positions like Downward Dog and The Swan and Cradle the Elephant.  (OK, I made that last one up.)  You get the idea.  My body did things this evening that it hasn't done since my junior prom.  I barely walked five steps during the whole hour, but, by the time I was done, I was drenched in sweat.

At the end of the class, the lights were turned down in the class area, and one of the trainers did a relaxation exercise.  It was lovely.  We got down on our back on the floor, closed our eyes, and let all of the day's anxieties and pressures and problems sort of melt away.  By the time it was over, I really did feel more centered and positive.

Positivity does not come naturally to me.  I don't often focus on the goodness of people.  Generally, I distrust people.  Nobody really is completely good all the time.  That's an impossibility, unless you're Mother Teresa or the Dalai Lama.  So, I'm always on my guard.  I try to be positive and happy at work, but I've had cranky patients call me fat and bald.  I try to be supportive of my coworkers and colleagues, but I've suffered tremendous bouts of jealousy when somebody gets a literary award or a promotion.

Goodness is all around me.  I know that.  It might be vaporous, or it might be a sense of well-being after a yoga class that kicks my ass.  I wish I could remain in that state a little longer.  But life happens.

For now, though, Saint Marty is one with goodness.  Namaste.

I'm going to have one sore namaste tomorrow