Everywhere I look these days there is so much to feel pain over. What is happening in Tibet is heartbreaking for both the Chinese and the Tibetans, what is happening in Burma, the suffering all around the world. And here in the United States (I don’t say America any more because … well, I don’t even know!) every day brings a new kind of suffering, people being treated so badly all across this land, whether it be dying from lack of health care, folks still suffering too much in New Orleans, soldiers coming home to homelessness and despair, the dreadful story of Don Siegelman which shows how blatantly one gets punished when trying to do the right thing … ah, the list goes on and on. And those of us here, we don’t get hardened to it but sometimes we despair, for the suffering is so great and so continuous it seems impossible to take it all in.
And of course there is the pain of thinking “can I do more? Have I done enough? Am I more part of the problem than the solution?” These doubts and fears, they are painful, too.
I read somewhere about suffering and joy. I read how suffering that goes deep within us also makes a very deep place for joy as well. And that if we do not face and allow the pain go deep into our hearts, our joys, when they arrive, and they always arrive, will not go very deep either. I read that the depth of our joy is equal to the depth of our pain. I don’t remember who said that, but it always stayed with me.
I’d like to write about deep joy, because I think we’ve all been exposed to so much that has caused us deep pain. And I think deep joy is the well that is always available to us to draw from, whenever we wish, to give us strength to do what we know is right and to love and help each other as we all wish to do.
One touch from a friend’s hand can lighten my load. One touch. That’s all it takes. The joy of being understood. The joy of recognition. The joy that I am not alone. All that happens from one touch of a friend’s hand. And the more pain I am in, the deeper the joy when that happens.
One voice without fear can give me enormous strength. One voice, that’s all it takes. One voice that tells me what I know is true is confirmed, and there need be no fear in walking towards that light of truth. And the more pain I am in, the deeper the joy when that happens.
One open heart can give me great love. One open heart, that’s all it takes. One open heart that says I can open my heart, too, and stand tall as a human being, no better and no worse than anyone else, that I exist in this universe equally to all and can keep my heart open and my own love always flowing. And the more pain I am in, the deeper the joy when that happens.
I sometimes think about how I would want those who love me to feel if something bad happened to me, if I were imprisoned or killed or suffering from a bad illness. I would not want those who loved me to feel despair or pain, even though I know that at times they would feel those things. But if and when they did experience pain, I would hope so much that they also experienced some joy from having known me, a joy as deep as any pain they might feel.
There is much pain ahead, we all know that. There will be knowledge coming to all of us that will hurt very badly … we will ultimately find out even more how we have ruined a sovereign nation, Iraq, and how many folks have suffered from a war our tax dollars funded. We will see folks who have lost their homes and their livelihoods, folks who are sick and in despair. We know the consequences will come to light even more as time goes on of this criminal misAdministration and its unrepentant enablers.
My hope for myself is that I don’t shy away from that pain or give into dullness and denial (though I know if I do there are all too many good folks who will give me a swift kick over that!). My hope is that I will remember to go to the well of joy when the pain gets bad and to remember that well is deep and will never run dry.
From Friday Night at 8, I would like to wish everyone joy and a great weekend! And RiaD, I don’t normally call folks out in my essays, but you’re on my mind — I hope you are doing better than great, and I miss you!
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… I set this to post at 8:00 pm. And it’s 7:57 pm.
Cool … I am blogging in the future. Eerie.
Happy weekend. I was actually on time for work for four days in a row.
good tears, for good people. People protesting, people helping others, and people being friends.
You wrote another winner Kitty. 🙂
is carved by your sorrow.
You can only know joy as deep as the sorrow you have known.
(Kahlil Gibran poorly paraphrased)
Love the diary.
..at yahoo answers
Once upon a time, I did a series of short pieces I called Slices, which I published at Top Comments. I hope nobody minds me posting it here. This is from the mid-90s.
I don’t think a person can exist without knowing inner pain, the hurts of the mind, not of the body. At least I hope such a person has never been born. Perhaps it’s what makes us human, (though pet owners quite rightly will aver that their pets perceive such injury). How is one supposed to handle it?
My personal approach was to learn to * own * the pain. However it got there, I earned it. It is my pain, not someone else’s. The pain doesn’t belong to the person who inflicted it but to me, the person who received it. The person who inflicted it cannot do anything with it. Only I can do that. If I were to allow my pain to belong to the perpetrator, I would be giving that person power over my life that extends much too far beyond the event which resulted in the damage.
Perhaps what I have said has already given too much power to someone else. I own all my emotions. To say that someone else “inflicted” pain on me really means that someone performed an action and that I chose to feel hurt by it, whatever the intent of that other person. Perhaps it was not a choice I made consciously but it was one I made. And I can consciously choose to know the pain is my own and to do something for myself to soothe it.
…as long as you stay equipped with the attitude you have, NPK.
Absolutely gorgeous NPK!!!
I believe you’ve mixed poetry and prose and come up with a whole new genre.
And just what I needed tonight.
Thanks.
I hope if it should come to pass, someone might be motivated to volunteer as an archivist for my stuff. For whatever they might be worth, I’ve grown attached to these writings.
Thank you.
still can’t find the words to describe what this beautiful and brave essay did to me when i first read it Friday night. it tore something open that i wasn’t prepared to have torn open. re-reading hasn’t lessened the feeling. if i was a braver person i’d explore this. it’s enough right now though to say that this brings tears to my eyes and i don’t know why, but tears are precious, and so i thank you greatly for bringing them.