Patchwork Personal Peace

Thank you for viewing my service. I re-recorded it later in the date, slightly modified – the original recording encountered a wifi error in the middle of the service.

The video can be found below, with the text from the service directly below that. The text is slightly different from my spoken words.

My service today is a commentary on the general concept of building a state of wellbeing inside myself. During the course of this commentary, I will be presenting videos and stories that I feel are a good representation of the concepts that underlie the process.

As a warning, one of these videos contains a scene in which a character is stuck in a defining traumatic moment in their life – the moment their wife died. I say this so that those who may have suffered the loss of a loved one in a traumatic event are aware of the contents before viewing. I will give another warning before the video itself.

In my last service, I played part of a TED talk that talked about how language shapes our perception of reality. I used that video mostly in focusing on how I try to interact with the people in my external environment with appreciation, rather than gratitude.

Today’s service is more focused on how I try to interact with my internal environment.

For a very long time, I ignored what my body was telling my mind. Then I had a full-body flashback to an early trauma which made me realize that ignoring my bodily signals probably wasn’t helping me be the well-adjusted and healthy person I desperately wanted to be. That wasn’t the start of my journey, but it was a significant step.

My own journey to build a state of wellbeing within myself is, like the journey of many others, a patchwork one that has been picked up and put down at various points throughout life. As part of this process, I’ve had to reorient how I view the actions of both myself and others quite a number of times. It’s a journey that I kind of hope never ends.

Before we jump into that, let’s put out our collection basket to some fun music suggested by Christy.

The Second Arrow

About seven or eight years ago I was listening to podcasts on Buddhism and learned about the concept of the second arrow, also known as Dukkha, or suffering. The basic idea is that the first arrow is whatever painful event happens around us, while the second arrow is the suffering that we choose.

Here’s a video that explains it better than I can.

Basically, the second arrow is the reaction to the external events happening. It is the chosen suffering. I really like this method of internally questioning the way we react to events that are happening around us, effectively taking an active part in the emotional narrative that the body is telling.

But sometimes it can be extremely difficult to dodge that ‘Second Arrow.’ I have had times when sitting in the emotions and just feeling them was simply not possible due to the magnitude of the pain.

I do not mean that in exaggeration, nor as a boast, but as a statement to lead into the next part of my service.

When this unbearable pain happened it created an anchor point in my body that links back to the underlying sensations it felt during the event. During times of high stress, my body remembers that pain with a visceral feeling that is impossible for me to convey in words.

A Lifelong Journey

These next clips are taken from the first episode of Star Trek Deep Space Nine. I chose them because they beautifully convey how I feel humans naturally are: constantly chasing after new questions, new things to experience, all while feeling so certain of a perception of events that has a decent chance of error – and then having the capacity to realize our complete wrongness in the very next heartbeat.

Another reason I chose these clips was that I feel like they excellently convey how I thought of myself as a living being experiencing time before I had my first full-body flashback, and how I viewed myself afterwards.

I’m sorry to drop you in the middle of a scene, but the 8 or so minutes that happen before this video are much less relevant to my service. For context, the video opens with Sisko, one of the main characters, being held and questioned by interdimensional aliens that do not experience time in the same manner we do.

These aliens are beyond physical form and language. The only way they can communicate is through personifying Sisko’s own memories, inserting themselves into whatever memory is going through his head. They take on the image of his son, his wife who passed on, and various other characters in the show, trying to learn more about his existence.

Warning: This video contains a scene in which a character is viscerally pulled back to the moment their wife died. I say this so that those who may have suffered the loss of a loved one in a traumatic event are aware of the contents before viewing and may take the opportunity to step outside before playing.

Sisko is the man on the right when the video begins. The character on the left is one of the aliens in the form of Captain Picard, from Star Trek: The Next Generation.

As I said before: I think they excellently convey how I thought of myself as a living being both before my first full-body flashback and afterwards.

Before that flashback, I thought of events from my past as remaining in the past. I would have agreed with much of his explanation.

After that flashback, I realized that there are times that my body lives in the past whether my mind is aware of it or not.

In a similar manner, Sisko is the only person in control of which memories come forth – but he denies it, thinking the aliens are bringing him back to this most painful moment of his life.

Only after the aliens insist that they are not doing this, after they start to question what death even is, does Sisko have the realization that no – despite his earnest explanation only minutes before, he doesn’t actually experience time in the fully linear fashion he claimed he did.

In his mind, he has lived trapped in that moment ever since she died – out of choice. He goes about his daily life, choosing not to let her go moment after moment even though this is the only picture he sees when he thinks of her.

Because the only other choice he sees is to live a life without holding her image in his mind – and he has no internal experience to prepare him for that.

I have not lost a loved one in this manner, but I am familiar with that moment of confusion and fear that is apparent in Sisko when he is transported back there.

I have felt those same feelings in the moments leading up to my body no longer obeying my mind as it reels back to a deep-seated, traumatic, terrifying moment from my past.

Why Do We Need A State Of Wellbeing?

An important note here: I only speak for myself. This topic is largely subjective.

A flashback can include any or all of the senses, deep inexplicable emotions disconnected from the present, confusion, or any other number of sensations that are dependent on each individual person and each individual experience. They can happen piecemeal, or all at once in a rush.

My flashbacks have only very rarely included a visual component. But they do often come attached to emotions that can cause me to lash out in ways that have little to do with the present moment.

I am very lucky in that my very few serious flashbacks have been either when I was alone or with someone that loves me and could help me through. Finding my way back from each flashback to my version of ‘normalcy’ has been a unique and scary journey each time. As long as I avoid the second arrow associated with my flashbacks, I am happy to make that journey.

To me, the second arrow of these flashbacks isn’t the transportation back to that earlier pain. That part will happen regardless, because that pain happened. There WILL be times where my body is reminded of that pain and my mind will be brought along for the ride.

To me, the second arrow of my traumatic pain is the way I treat those around me during those moments of pain.

I can’t know for sure when my body will be reminded of the awful thing that happened. I can and do make an effort to avoid things that I think might trigger my trauma, but that will never cover all the bases. So I have been trying to build up my internal world to be more resilient to my own pain – so that I can bear it happily instead of with a grimace.

I do not want to repeat my flashbacks. But I would rather accept them as reality than pretend they don’t exist.

The next video is to me a very good breakdown of happiness and wellbeing as a process we can practice.

I would rather learn to feel that pain without distorting my mind than try to control everyone around me in an attempt to avoid it altogether. Similarly, I want to learn to sit with that pain in all of its entirety rather than force that pain on another. I want it to be a reminder that I don’t know what internal pain others are going through at any given time, so I can treat them with more compassion.

These are ideals that I want to pursue, and will always try to pursue. I will fail. That’s the nature of me – I’m imperfect. But despite what Yoda might say, I believe it’s always about the trying.

The Fool From Frampol

One of my methods of building an internal state of wellbeing is through reading fiction. I like to go to thrift stores and pick out books that feel right. Sometimes it’s a crafting book, sometimes a speech book, sometimes a collection of short stories.

The next part of my service is a short story called Gimpel The Fool. It comes from a collection of short stories by Isaac Bashevis Singer. It’s a story that is all about the act of trying, even in the face of the overwhelming.

I have cut out a lot of the story for time reasons, leaving mainly the parts that resonate with me strongly.

This story is about Gimpel, an orphan boy who isn’t dumb, nor weak, nor cruel. His deep trust in what others tell him is both his greatest weakness and his greatest strength.

I will read a few select passages from this, with brief explanations of time skips in between.

[Page 3-5]

After the birth of the first child, only four months after the marriage, he tries to push back and argue that this was impossible. She responded that the baby was premature, that she had a grandmother that carried for just as short a time. He went to his rabbi for advice, only to hear a similar argument from him.

But when faced with the reality of this new child in his household, he pours out love and caring. The rest doesn’t matter to him.

[Page 7]

This passage is representative of how he continues to react to the world. He protests or lashes out, they argue him down, he accepts that he could be wrong, and then he pours out love.

After this section, it discusses from Gimpel’s internal view how he proceeds over the next twenty years in life.

During this narrative, any time he states his perception of a wrong done against him to the other people in the town, he is shouted down or otherwise suppressed. The entire town treats him thus.

People use his love for animals and his trusting nature to deflect from the events he witnessed seconds before, while lying outright to his face. And each time he accepts that his senses aren’t perfect – that he’s pretty sure about what he saw, but he could be wrong.

He goes on to become a wealthy breadmaker, always accepting that his interpretation of what he perceives could be wrong. Then near the end of the story, his wife develops an illness and quickly deteriorates. As she nears the end, she confesses that she feels horrible for all the lies she told, that his senses were true, that she doesn’t know the father of any of the children – and then immediately dies.

Gimpel is dumbfounded upon hearing this betrayal. The next scene shows him grappling with the Spirit of Evil in a dream, who tempts him into an act of revenge on all the cruel people of this town for the things they have done to him.

He pees in the bread dough and is prepared to feed it to the entire town – before realizing what his actions would mean for his soul.

And so he disposed of the bread, went home, and divided all of his possessions amongst his six children (whom he still seems to love dearly, even now having full awareness of the truth), then says:

[Page 14]

This story resonates because the way Gimpel was treated is familiar to me. I’ve had many people ‘get one over’ on me. It happens. It will happen. And to be honest, I will probably have many people continue to ‘get one over’ on me into the future.

I still prefer to give my trust easily if the stakes are low, even if at times I look like Gimpel The Fool.

If someone is telling me something that doesn’t mesh with my perception, why not give the benefit of the doubt and hear them out? If I’m wrong, I’d rather admit it than stick to something I think isn’t right. In all likelihood the actual reality is somewhere between mine and theirs.

If someone on the street is asking for a few bucks that I can easily give, why not give it? $5 or $20 could help them a lot more than it helps me. I know what it’s like to have no place to call home.

I’m pretty far from perfect though. I have distrusted at times when I should have trusted. I have lashed out when I should have offered comfort.

That’s why I think it’s all about the trying, despite what Yoda might say.

My Personal Peace

Based on that TED talk, it feels like happiness is both a process and a state of internal wellbeing. It feels like it is something that is cultivated through honest perception of both internal sensations and of interactions with the world without the weight of judgment. Such a state seems to act as a buffer, allowing one to feel the internal turbulence of emotions when they arise without letting them reach overpowering levels.

It feels like this means that each person’s individual process and practice for finding that state of wellbeing will be different. Some people are meditators, some people are not. Personally, I’m definitely not the kind of person that can sit still for 12 hours a day.

So next I’ll talk about what I’ve been doing to build this peaceful space inside me. I hope that in doing so, it will give others ideas on how to develop their own processes.

I try to keep myself open to many different experiences and interactions. I love to interact with people from all walks of life in whatever tiny manner is possible at any given moment. I like picking out second-hand books that intrigue me, even if it’s only a single sentence. I really like watching shows a dozen times over. Basically: finding, listening to, and creating stories that resonate with my emotions is one of my main methods of finding happiness.

In this process, I try to imagine myself fully in the lives of others – not just their thought processes, but their visceral feelings. I try to think about their family ties, their societal boundaries, to try and form an idea of how they came to be who they are and where they are BEFORE they came into my life. I try to imagine their pain and their joy as if I felt it fully within myself.

I try to do this for real people as well as fictional characters. Then I try to internalize as many of these stories as I can.

When my body falls back into that deep well of my own pain and starts inventing stories about the people in my life through a veil of negative emotions, it helps me to recognize that all the internal stories my body is telling are just that – stories.

When I interact with people for any duration, I have no knowledge of their actual internal world – a positive story for their behavior is just as likely as a negative one. By thinking this way, I can try to avoid the second arrow.

As I’ve been exploring my own internal processes over the past year, I’ve been actively trying to engage with my community and environment. I feel like that’s an important part of me maintaining a healthy state of wellbeing – staying connected to the world around me.

I can’t control the emotions that I feel when the first arrow hits, nor do I want to. The second arrow is my choice: close myself down to trusting others and disconnect, or accept that my internal emotions aren’t necessarily a reflection of reality – that everyone is doing things for their own reasons that are probably valid to them and deeply personal. I can feel my emotions while I avoid letting them control my actions.

I can’t say my behavior has been perfect or even good at times. I’ve done and said awful things out of pain, reacting to the things happening around me or inside me without thought. But I think that’s a quality that many others share with me.

I think people are big beautiful messes, every one of us. Sometimes things happen that I don’t expect, and sometimes I fall back into that deep well of pain that is always lurking just out of sight.

My goal is not to avoid it forever – it’s inevitable that I fall in from time to time. My goal is to someday be able to look at it in full, to feel all of those painful sensations, to measure that pain against the current moment, and to then choose the path that I believe provides the greatest opportunity for healing and growth for both myself and those around me – while smiling through the pain in genuine happiness at the beauty of the world around me.

In the spirit of that, I’ve been actively trying to learn the names of people I interact with regularly throughout the week.

My bank teller. The vendors I visit at the farmers market. The people working at my dispensary. The employees I interact with at bargain stores that are starting to learn what I like to find in my treasure hunts.

When it seems they are open to it, I take a genuine interest in their lives – if only in that brief moment that we interact. I try to keep up with their lives from visit to visit, to the degree which they seem comfortable with. In doing so, I also do my best to treat each person as they’ve indicated they want to be treated at that moment.

If the person I’m talking to says something that seems to excite them, I try to ask questions in subsequent visits that give them space to expand on their excitement. If they seem like they don’t want attention, I try to avoid any unnecessary talk. If they seem neutral but open to random discussion, I set minimal expectations and just let it flow.

And then I accept the fact that I am fallible and can be wrong. It happens a lot, actually. I’ve had people that I expected to be quiet end up being bubbly, and those I expected to be bubbly end up being quiet. I try my best to adjust my behavior and be happy for what I learn from the experience. I don’t always succeed – and sometimes walk away cringing – but I think I’m okay with that.

To me, life feels like an equal blend of external stimuli and internal reactions, of past memories and present moments, all jumbled up into a tangled mess of thoughts and feelings that never stops moving.

I am fully of the belief that by working to understand, acknowledge, and embrace my inner feelings in their purest forms without judgment, and by extending kindness both inward and outward, it makes it easier for me to walk through the world with that smile.

In the spirit of that, I would like to play a song by Keith Whitley. I heard this song on the radio a few months back and I immediately looked it up when I got home because I loved it.

The singer, Keith Whitley, was about 34 when it came out – my age. He seems to have had a very painful life.

He died within a year of its release of alcohol intoxication.

And yet these words he sang all those years ago – and released the same year I was born – still give me hope. They speak to me of the incredible difficulty of fighting through those tough moments – a difficulty that I’m sure many people can identify with. I am pretty sure I cried when I first heard this song on the radio, then again when I read his story as it played in the background on YouTube.

In that sadness sits a core of happiness in finding a song that plucks my emotions in this way and showing me the beauty of another facet of experience. I imagine that Keith would have liked that. I appreciate him letting me borrow a little sunshine to add to my service.

This brings me to the end of my service today. I appreciate y’all coming to listen to my silly words and feelings. I say that with love – I am silly, and I always will be, and I love that I have been embraced in that.

Thank you.

Now our closing words:

Go In Peace. Believe In Peace. Create Peace.

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