Susan Piver* is a writer, teacher, and New York Times best selling author. Last year I attended a workshop she offered on Fearless Writing and found Susan to be authentic whether she was teaching us meditation or encouraging us to write.
The day after the horrific events in Newtown, Susan received a request from one of her students to write a reflection on the tragedy. Initially she thought it would be too hard but, thankfully for us, later wrote what I want to share with you.
Susan's response was the first article I discovered that offered practical ways to stay with my feelings instead of distancing from them.
My hope is that you will find direction and comfort from her words. This is an excerpt, if you wish to read the entire essay, click on her website address below.
Susan's words are to be read slowly and meditatively:
Using ideas to treat or metabolize feelings is ineffective.
Then what? I’m afraid that there are only a very few things we can do other than to be absolutely, irredeemably heartbroken. Weep, sob, rage. Weep, sob, rage.
Every time your mind tries to tell you, “this is because of poor gun control,” or “this world is rotten, terrible and I have to ignore it in order to survive,” and/or “if mental health care was better, we could help people before they explode into violence,” please ask it to wait.
I’m not saying we shouldn’t act. WE SHOULD. But before we act, we should feel. Let your heart break. Let down your guard. There is a strange redemption in heartbreak.
In your own way, you could open your heart to the suffering of all who have been directly involved.
Every time your mind tries to tell you, “this is because of poor gun control,” or “this world is rotten, terrible and I have to ignore it in order to survive,” and/or “if mental health care was better, we could help people before they explode into violence,” please ask it to wait.
I’m not saying we shouldn’t act. WE SHOULD. But before we act, we should feel. Let your heart break. Let down your guard. There is a strange redemption in heartbreak.
In your own way, you could open your heart to the suffering of all who have been directly involved.
Relax your mind and then think:
For all of you children who lost your lives and may now be wandering bereft and confused, I share your suffering with you. In return I offer you my peace.
Breathe in their suffering. Breathe out your peace.
For all of you parents who lost your children, I share your unspeakable suffering with you. May I take even the tiniest bit of your sorrow and rage into my own heart to relieve you of it. In return, I send you my strength.
Breathe in their suffering. Breathe out your strength.
For all of of you children who lived through this horrific day, I share your suffering with you. May I take in your fear and your nightmares. I send you my bravery.
Breathe in their suffering. Breathe out your bravery.
For the officials of the state of Connecticut and of this country who now must bear witness and act, I share your suffering with you. May I take in your doubt and confusion about what to do and how to feel. I send you my confidence and compassion.
Breathe in their suffering. Breathe out your confidence and compassion.
Then, as best you can, relax your mind and sit quietly for a few minutes or a few lifetimes.
We can’t leave out that someone committed this crime. We might hate the horrible monster who did so. We might condemn and excoriate him. I’m not saying don’t do that. It’s not useful (especially to you), but it is human. The only thing we cannot do under any circumstance is think that we are any different than he is.
It would take a very big person to offer compassion to the perpetrator and I for one am not capable of it today. But while I cannot feel kindhearted, nor will I permit myself to imagine that if I lived his life, I would not be just like him.
In the meantime, tonight I will wrap my arms around those I love and, recognizing the extraordinary fragility of our lives, give thanks for the preciousness of our time together. Truly the only solace is in the dharmas of love, compassion,and fierce warriorship.
Next we will explore words from Christine Valters Paintner.
exploring the mystery of feelings takes an open heart and courage.
Thanks for being with me. Please go to the blog and comment - I
would love to hear from you. Nicky Mendenhall
*www.susanpiver.com/open-heart-project/
For the wonderful comment section - unfortunately you will have to scroll down several inches - thanks!
Next we will explore words from Christine Valters Paintner.
exploring the mystery of feelings takes an open heart and courage.
Thanks for being with me. Please go to the blog and comment - I
would love to hear from you. Nicky Mendenhall
*www.susanpiver.com/open-heart-project/
For the wonderful comment section - unfortunately you will have to scroll down several inches - thanks!
http://susanpiver.com/blog/
This is a beautiful post - but I find myself a bit at odds with it.
ReplyDeleteOddly, I can feel compassion for the perpetrator...what kind of rage or hurt or confusion must have reigned within him that he could do such a thing? Something must have been very wrong inside and surely we will never know what. I'm certainly not making excuses; only saying that he was a broken human being.
I also, of course, feel compassion for the parents, siblings, classmates and first responders whose lives will never be the same. They did nothing to deserve this. Yet I believe it is all right, even healthy, to keep some boundary so that I don't drown in their pain. I do not help them if I drown - and, sadly, there are many other innocents dying horribly in many parts of our world. I need to know my limits. I can care, pray and act - but not drown. Sometimes the media lead the unsuspecting to drown in others' tragedy.
And the little ones who died. I believe they are with God now: may their spirits be a channel of grace for their survivors.
Mary - Your point about maintaining personal boundaries for ourselves is an important one. I'm glad you raised it.
DeleteI am thinking that your feeling of being a bit at odds with this post may be because of the differences between Buddhism and Christianity. As a Christian, you have God to relate to; as a Buddhist, Susan has the dharmas of love, compassion, and fierce warriorship.
Thank you for responding in such a thoughtful way. I hope this conversation can continue.
Nicky
I enjoyed Susan's comment regarding anyone turning out any different under the same circumstances as the shooter in Newtown. I had a wonderful employee that stole money under pressure from an abusive spouse. She was still the same person, but the perception of her was vastly different. Nobody else thought that they would ever steal under any circumstance, I warned them not to be so sure.
ReplyDeleteNolan -
ReplyDeleteThanks for the story that illustrates Susan's point so well. You gave your other employees wise advice; what we don't know about ourselves is usually what causes us the most problems.
Nicky
Nolan -
ReplyDeleteYou make a very good point and I too am glad you highlighted Susan's comment with a story. It is so easy for us to judge others.
It saddens me when people assume that they would not handle their lives as another has - how can they know? None of us knows what it feels like to be someone else. It is easy to imagine having more control, insight and strength - but I have only my own life experience (and genetics) to draw on. Who can know another's struggle?
I think the reality is that we often don't WANT to know. We don't want to think there could be any similarity between ourselves and people who commit highly aberrant acts. Yet they too once came into the world as innocent babies...