Buddhism: Duhkha: Suffering: Change

Yesterday Ana left to return to Spain, and I returned to work, engulfed in sadness. The two weeks she was here were wonderful, magical, and thoroughly joyful. Our travels, our conversations, our spontaneous moments of affection, our quite embraces, and even the normal activities of day to day life all had an air of perfection, of beauty. The sadness of our last hours together slowly crept over me as we packed her bags. The drive to the airport was like a funeral procession through thick London fog; the only thing I was really aware of was that I was moving forward and that my right hand lay softly in Ana’s lap, embraced by her hands.

The final moments were the hardest; that final embrace as the lead weight in my belly grew heavier and heavier. Then idly watching her walk away, through security, and out of view; trying to record every moment in my mind so as to have something from her there with me, even though she is gone.

I’m reminded of a Buddhist teaching I was given in England, by the 10 year old daughter of one of my classmates, Heather. “How do we hold on to the things we love?” her mother asked. “Like this,” she replied, with her hand outstretched, palm up, fingers open.

This is the epitome of accepting love, the gentle way we hold all that which is precious and delicate. And the nature of samsara (the world we live in) and duhkha (the fundamental condition of this world) is that things we love slip into and out of our hands, no matter what we do. The open hand accepts this essence of our reality. It still holds objects of love, but knowing they will one day be gone.

On either side of this middle path are two other ways to deal with the reality of change. One way is to cling ever so tightly to everything you hold dear. But so much that we love is too delicate for such a tight grip; we end up crushing, breaking, or deforming our beloved, and still in the end losing it. This loss causes suffering, more clinging, more loss, and more suffering; an unfortunate downward spiral into greed.

The other method is to stop holding things entirely, to turn away from love and see the world as undeserving. Seeing the world as fundamentally flawed in this way protects you from losing your beloved because it keeps you from ever falling in love. One here only finds joy in his/her supposed superiority over all others for realizing the depravity of the world while others foolishly care and love.

I know I fall into either of the mistaken paths in most of my life. Geshe Michael Roach has said (and this is a teaching going back to early Buddhism) that people will tend to be habitually one way or another, too greedy and clingy or too cold and stand-offish. I’m not sure which of those I am (feel free to offer suggestions!  ) – but I know I feel a strong sense of clinging toward Ana now, missing her, wishing we had gone through with her brilliant plan to fold me up into her carry-on luggage.

But now hold out my hand, imagining Ana there just two days ago, and try to think of what I love that might be there now: new studies, work, meditation, and so on. I’m tempted to cling to my memories, but I know I won’t lose them. I need now to work, to get out of that thick fog and to open my hands to new challenges.

And one day, not too long from now, we’ll be together again.