Scratch the Itch

It feels weird to say that I've been reading a lot about Buddhism lately and expanding my spiritual philosophy.  Having been raised Catholic it almost feels sacrilegious to admit it.  But the the truth is, there is room for both, and in fact, there is one author whose work has felt like it was personally meant for me.  As such I'm now on the third book by Pema Chödrön who is an American Buddhist nun and a renowned meditation master.

In both When Things Fall Apart and in Taking the Leap I've explored some of my own patterns, habits and metaphysical places that I tend to inhabit.  I've taken a good look at my storyline.  My ego and my shenpa.

Here's where I'm at right now.  

I've learned that I (like everyone) have a set of patterns and behaviors that I turn to when things are difficult, uncomfortable, or even scary.  Some of these patterns are healthy (like exercise, reading, writing, reaching out to friends and family) while others are not.  But the not so good habits are the ones that come too easily.  They are the unconscious automatic habits I turn to without thinking.  

Why is getting out to the gym so much harder than pouring yourself a drink?

I've learned that the habits and responses that quickly help us run and hide from our discomfort only make things worse.  It's not often that we are encouraged to challenge those habits and instead sit in our discomfort to give it and us some space to breathe.  

I've come to realize that doing those easy and automatic things that help relieve the itch of difficult times is like scratching away at a poison ivy rash.  The immediate sense of relieve is glorious and all encompassing.  But Chödrön explains, "We don't know yet that when we scratch, the poison ivy spreads.  Pretty soon we're scratching all over our body and rather than finding relief, we find that our discomfort is escalating."

I'm working on staying with the itch.  I'm making space for the times when anxiety starts to take over.  

I'm finding peace with the thoughts of "Is this enough? Am I enough?”

I am regularly and actively moving away from trying to seek relief using methods that only exacerbate the problem.

I am comforted by the reality that relapses happen; the ebb and flow of life is the only certainty in this widely uncertain world.  Chödrön points out the fact that we don't always have smooth sailing allows us to appreciate what we have when we have it.  

What would day be without night?  Summer without winter?  Happiness without sadness? 

When things fall apart we can recognize that we are not alone.  That we are all part of a greater community.  That we are all standing in the changing tides of life.  This allows us to connect with others' experiences and feel empathy for them when they get hooked by the snares of life.

What is your story?  What snags you? What itches do you scratch without thinking?

My dear reader, our storyline of who we think we are fuels what we are attached to, what hooks us and what emotionally hijacks us.  This strong tide has an undertow that can sweep us so far away from shore that we can quickly loose sight of who we are and where we want to be.  And just like there is inherent danger in being swept away by the tide and being caught in the undertow, our unconscious and automatic habits have some very real consequences.

So when you are feeling the tide begin to rise, just start with taking a few deep breaths and acknowledge what it is that you are attached to.  Pause and make space for whatever you are feeling.  Give it some room to sit next to you.  As you do you'll find that the discomfort quiets down in no time.  

That's when you'll know it's time to relax and move on.