The Wall: Learning to Cope With Negative Experiences

I lost my voice last week.  A wicked virus signalled its arrival by leaving me exhausted on Christmas Eve.  I made it through Christmas Day, but woke up on Boxing Day, unable to make a sound.  Although Mr. DD was convinced I was hoarse from too much talking the night before, the next few hours proved that something else was happening.

I spent the next week in bed, pretty much.  Boxing Day gatherings, a family dinner, New Year's Eve and New Year's Day celebrations left me behind.  The children departed and the world kept moving without much of a contribution from me.

On top of this, a good friend is having a rough time and I am powerless to do anything but send good thoughts while he struggles.  Any words of sympathy I can extend won't help him ease his burden. 

It was all a bit much.  The next thing I knew, my literary "voice" had followed my literal voice.  Blogging, journalling, even simple thank you notes were beyond my capabilities. Meditation, knitting and spinning were out of the question.

What do we do when the world overwhelms us?  The traditional advice is to "buck up, look on the bright side."  Things will change and we know that, but when we're sinking in an ocean of tough experience, false cheer can seem more of an anchor than a lifeboat.

We experience emotions as physical responses to events, real or perceived. Objectively, anger and sorrow are as valid emotionally as are happiness and joy.  It's our labelling of the emotion and our reaction  and attachment to it that dictate whether our experience is positive or negative.  Rather than trying to play "Pollyanna" with unpleasant events, we can try to experience the event as it is, rather than how we feel it to be.

In other words, if we're sick, then we should be sick, fully and completely, allowing ourselves the time to experience what is happening, allowing ourselves time to heal, without fighting what is or being angry that we are not experiencing something else.  If we can't knit or spin, then we need to experience the reality of not spinning or knitting. Don't sulk because you'd rather be spinning than doing housework, studying, or being ill.  Just abide in whatever you are experiencing in this moment.

Simple, yes.  Difficult, yes, but if you focus your energy into being ill, you may find that the time you spend in illness before the next change occurs will be shorter than if you wasted energy fighting the inevitable.

It was only when I gave up, admitted that I had to stop moving for a while, and took to my sickbed fully, that I began to gather enough resources to feel better.  I missed a lot of fun last week, but at least I'm not suffering from anger or resentment from missing out.  I'm feeling much better now.

Sometimes, life sucks and we just want to punch a wall. That's okay - we may find that punching through that wall is what we need to move through our pain. The next time life deals you a blow and you feel like punching a wall, go ahead.  Just remember that some actions are better done in mind only!

Namaste.

Attachment

I have a whack of spindles (and a few spinning wheels).  They're all over the place--in my fibre room, around the house, in bags, baskets, at work.  I can justify spindle ownership easily-they're useful, beautiful tools.  Spindles hold memories, of conferences we attended, spinning circles we enjoyed, people that we met.  I use spindles for teaching purposes.  No one in my household has ever gone hungry or cold because of my spindle purchases.  (I could argue the opposite-spindles and teaching people to spin has provided me with a source of income for many years.)  Practising what gives us and others joy can only bring good to the world.

And yet.  While I was dusting and sorting through my spindle stash-and it's never a good sign when I feel the urge to tidy-I came across one of the first spindles I used.  It's a heavy spindle, crafted by an unknown maker.  It didn't spin well thirty years ago and it doesn't spin much better for me now.

And yet.  Rediscovering this spindle took me back to a time when all spinning discoveries were new, to a time when owning just one spindle gave me endless possibilities.  Now I own many spindles and while I use most of them, finding new challenges has become more difficult.  This isn't because the challenges aren't there; rather, it's because I've become attached to my spindles, to my fibre stash, to my way of spinning.

Buddhism teaches us that the source of suffering is attachment.  If we learn to let go of our habits, our constant want, while practising compassion for all things, we will be released from suffering.  I believe that a little attachment isn't such a bad thing, suffering or not.  We have to live in this world.  A degree of attachment to our bodies, to our families, to our communities encourages us to care for ourselves and others.  Attachment can help us develop compassion. 

Attachment is harmful when it blocks our path and becomes a distraction away from what is happening now.

That's where I am with my spindle collection.  I have so many that I'm distracted by the effort of choosing the right spindle to use with a particular fibre.  There are bits of yarn on that spindle, some tucked away over there, underneath a pile of fleece, projects that have been parked on spindles for years.  I have multiple bobbin yarn ends from spinning on my wheels.  I'm overwhelmed and suffering from a serious case of attachment.

I've cleaned out my spindles.  I sold a few, set some aside for an upcoming silent auction, gave several to students and friends.  I've taken myself off spindle waiting lists.  (Well, not the wait list for a Bosworth "Moosie."  Non-attachment only goes so far.)

To break the attachment cycle, I've set myself a challenge.  All through April, I will spin using only one spindle from my stash, using fibres from my stash.  (That includes the banana fibre sent by a fellow Raveller yesterday.  Hey, it's not April yet!)  Since I've been foolish enough to announce this publicly, in several places, I'll have to follow through.  I hope.

This could be interesting.  I've spent the last two weeks trying to pick the perfect challenge spindle.  I haven't found one yet.  If I'm discovered under a pile of fleece and spindles, muttering "Not this, not this," you'll know what happened.

Yup, attachment.