I was speaking with a couple of my circle group friends, and we all confessed that we had been having trouble with our practices. We’d been procrastinating, doing really uninteresting and unimportant things instead: classic avoidance. So what was up? It came to us that at this moment in time, there is just too much suffering in the world and we didn’t want to look at it.
We made a pact that each day this week we would meditate on suffering. We would take in the suffering of the world and breathe out light and love. We would be filter feeders for the world, only purifying and clarifying the water of the human condition. Like sponges. Or spoonbills.
Today was the first day. After a certain amount of time bustling around–positioning my meditation pillow, making a preemptive phone call, worrying if I would be warm enough or if the cold would be distracting, finding matches for the candle, oops, remembering my phone so I could time my meditation–I settled in to heal the world.
This is how it worked. I started with Aleppo. Then, I somehow found myself contemplating my circle group, thinking of each in turn and trying to feel what I knew of their pain. But then, the circle came round to me and I asked myself, so, what are you suffering? My mother. I miss my mother. She has been gone for thirty years. Hmm. Interesting. Breathed it in, breathed it out.
I thought of those I know who are in need of healing: a friend with breast cancer; two friends with prostate cancer; a friend whose husband is gravely ill but I don’t know the cause. And then the circle came back around to me again. Hmm, what am I suffering? Well, it turns out I thought of a lot of things. I breathed in the suffering, breathed out peace.
I had started to wonder about feeling all this suffering. Most of the time, I just tamp it down. In my practice, I certainly didn’t want to look at my own life, only at distant troubles like terrorists. This afternoon, in preparation for this project, I’d read some of Thich Nhat Hanh’s writings about suffering. Right off the bat, he tells us that, to the Buddha, “Our suffering is holy if we embrace it and look deeply into it. If we don’t, it isn’t holy at all. We just drown in the ocean of our suffering.” A bit later he says, “We have to recognize and acknowledge the presence of this suffering and touch it.” (The Heart of the Buddha’s Teachings, chpt 3). So I can’t just ignore it. I have to look at it. Touch it.
As I reluctantly allowed myself to feel my own suffering (so much easier to heal the world!) my heart dropped, heavier and heavier. And I saw at last the fundamental source of my suffering: my distance from God. My yearning. My loss.
I sat with that. And then, it just settled into breathing.
And when the bowl sounded, I was filled with deep peace.
So, it turns out I’m not much of a filter feeder. I will continue to contemplate and inhale the suffering around me, but I understand that there is more work I need to do before I’m ready to save the world. Meanwhile, I’ll just admire the spoonbills and find joy in their good work.
An addendum on Thursday: Ha! Today in contemplation it came to me. I was inhaling and exhaling, but leaving out the most important part of the equation: God! It is not I who bring peace and healing! I can breath in and out all I want and nothing will come of it. Today, in meditation, my bellows suddenly reversed and I was inhaling not suffering, but rather, God’s peace. And I was exhaling it out into the world. I can be a conduit for God’s peace! And that is the best thing I can be. Which, by the way, is exactly what my friend Claire said days ago. . .
Contemplative Seeing 
Thank you.
so beautiful!! I have missed your posts so much – I love your wise eyes and big heart.