Showing posts with label The Book of Joy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Book of Joy. Show all posts

Friday, June 21, 2019

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.


Tuesday, June 18, 2019

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 . . .