An essential Buddhist teaching is that there is no separation between “self” and “other”. Dualities exist in the mind, and they are illusions. There are many aspects of my life where I witness the truth of no separateness. My most recent example is my writing life and my Buddhist practice, especially now I am sharing my understanding of Buddhism along with my usual writing practice in my Language of Silence program. Each time our small group meets, I introduce one aspect of the Buddha’s first teaching after awakening: The Four Noble Truths. Teaching is followed by time for silent contemplation, and immediately afterwards, we create fresh writing. No speaking or sharing until after we have a break.
During our most recent session, which happened the day before I had scheduled surgery, we were exploring a question: how do we stay present to the difficulties in our lives, rather than turn away? Anything from job loss, relationship breakups, to physical pain and beyond. Pema Chodron teaches us to “lean into the sharp points”, but when the sharp points are intense physical pain, how do we work wholesomely with that bodily experience? I have limited training with staying present to physical pain without turning away, numbing out, or distracting myself. I offered what I could, and then one of my students offered an example that I took with me into my surgery & post-surgery process.
Without going into too much detail, this student shared a story from a first-person account of a Buddhist nun who lived in a cave in Tibet for three years [Book title: A Cave in the Snow]. The nun tells a story of cutting her thumb very badly with an axe, while she was chopping wood for her fire. She was all alone, far from any help, and she wasn’t sure what to do. What she finally did was focus on the sensations of the wound, without giving in to all the accompanying stories and worries about what could happen. She experienced what she referred to as a “symphony of sensations”. That phrase stayed with me, and I brought it with me into the hospital for my surgical procedure.
Waking up from the general anesthesia was the beginning of my practice. Noticing sensations and being curious, avoiding labeling and discursive thoughts. Relatively easy to do while the drugs to minimize pain were clearing out of my system, but as my senses became more alert, this became a rigorous practice. And surprisingly, an energizing one. I’ll share a brief piece of my writing where I’ve done my best to capture the essence of the experience:
The sensations I experienced were in places I would not have expected. My upper right shoulder felt like it wanted to expand to twice its size, and my physical body was restricting that expansion. There was a rather sharp, laser-focused pain at the back of my right hip. Mysteriously, those two areas linked up and created a flow of sensation, like a river of pain that was also connected to my breathing. For a long while I felt as if I was breathing pain, uncomfortably sharp pinpricks up & down my right side between shoulder and hip. The IV drip beside my bed produced regular sounds like breathing, so I entrained my breath with the machine. I was one with it all, sensation, breathing, sounds, in a floating warm sea of curiosity.
I believe that staying present and curious has directly supported my healing because I have mostly avoided tensing up, tightening from fear, and using limited amounts of medication to regulate pain. I also want to make clear that I’m not judging others who have had, or are having, challenges with physical health. If anything, I have greater compassion for anyone living with pain, now that I know how much energy it takes to live in a pain-filled body. I am surprised by how much sleep I need! Every body needs rest, and this knowledge informs how I structure breaks in my multi-day writing retreats.
Could your writing practice benefit from more movement and flow? Would your writing benefit from greater sensory awareness, more descriptions that anchor the reader in sight, sound, touch? I know mine can! Are there stuck places that are asking for some compassionate attention? The writing process in our circles is supportive, affirming, and non-judgmental. Perhaps November is the month that you open to possibility and join my four-day online writing retreat, Writing from the Heart.
