I have heard scores of talks by Ajahn Brahm over the last two years. In a few of them he talks about "A Glass of Water", referring to how people hold on to stress and why they need to learn the art of pause. While I understand it intellectually and it also seeped into my consciousness over time, I have not been able to effectively practise pause. Then, this Sunday, on my four hour walk on the beautiful Torrey Pines beach, I had my own aha-moment. Such realizations are very personal, and I am not sure if I can effectively put in words, but I'll try. I know these essays are extremely intimate and raw, and sometimes it brings about strong emotions in people. I am very sorry. I write for two reasons - one, to express and share the development of my understanding of how the world works, just maybe someone else may benefit; and two, it seems that there are a small group of people who seem to wait for these essays, which I find very odd but I oblige anyway.
When we hold up a glass of water for five to ten seconds, it is fine. It does not hurt, it is just fine. If we try holding it for more than two minutes, the arm starts to hurt, we need to prop it up with the other hand for support. If we try holding it for more than five minutes, even with both arms, it starts to hurt. Try holding it up for over fifteen minutes, and someone will have to call the medics! And you will be named a raving mad person to have tried to do so, fit for the asylum. But, in reality, many of us do this all the time - hold the tasks we need to do and relentlessly keep doing non-stop, without a breather or rest - and it makes us sick, stressed, tired, and creates a lot of issues - emotional and physical. So, we should put down the glass from time to time, let the arm heal, gain its strength back, and then lift the glass again. The glass is going nowhere!!
"Holding a glass of water" analogy is kind of accurate in a little different sense for me. When I told a new friend about my childhood and adult life and the struggles, she said - "Soma, it seems like you were carrying the world on your shoulders like Atlas. You know you did not need to do that!!" That is right! I did not need to do that. I could have chosen not to even lift up the world, to refuse, to walk away. But I did not. And for forty years, I carried it on my shoulders, bent over and tired. When I look back, I feel very stupid, very ignorant, and very naive. I had complete and total disregard for my own well-being and it was pathological neglect of self. We can go into deep analysis of why it was so - there was this desire to be acknowledged by the people I loved who withheld love as a means to get what they wanted, then there was this intense need for affirmation coupled with having low self-worth, and the list is long. All these years I thought that "there is something wrong with me, I need to fix it". And as a result, I have been leading a very intense life. To the outside world, I seem to have done quite well. For example, I came to the US with only $800 and two suitcases, and today I am quite okay financially. I have lived in four continents, and move 21 times in my lifetime. By my mid thirties, I was capable of leading a $300+ million program of works with five teams working round the clock in four continents, and I played it like an expert orchestra conductor and I thrived on it. Today I run a growing engineering consulting business that has its own challenges. Even my hobbies, i.e. cooking, I do remarkably well because I am passionate about it. I used throw parties that had expertly crafted near-perfect entrees that my guests said gave them "foodgasms"! Yet, I have this strong inner judge that was invisible to everyone but myself - and she is merciless, relentless, driving me to exhaustion, anxiousness, and depression. This feeling of being not okay goes in perfect stride with deep loneliness. No matter if I am with family or friends or in the middle of a big conference of my professional world, deep inside I feel that I do not belong. There has been this deep undercurrent of personal deficiency. That is the glass of water that I have been holding up for all these years.
Last five years have been very difficult, I went through a series of shockers, one almost every year. First I had a near death experience in a car crash; then my mother passed away after a short painful battle with cancer that I witnessed from her bedside everyday for three months; then came the realization that my marriage had been indeed failing for decades but I was not prepared to let go, and which eventually led to our divorce after an anguished and frantic struggle; and with that came a cancer scare from a large watermelon sized tumor in my uterus which led to two major surgeries. It was hard, it was intense. But then, it was like this for almost all my life, really. When circumstances did not create hurdles that required Herculean effort, I created them for myself. For example, in late 2005, my immune system broke down and I was going blind as my eyes were being "rejected" by my body. After managing to baffle five top doctors in North Carolina, it was decided that I be put on strong immune suppressant drugs, like the ones they give to kidney transplant patients, with the hope that it will work. And what did I do? I trained and ran the Chicago Marathon in 2006, just to prove to myself that I can beat everything that comes my way. Yes, it might seem a commendable achievement to run a marathon while being sick, but truly, it was not required. It was as if I have been living in a trance, enveloped by this toxic gas that was constantly wanting me to strive for more as the status-quo was never good enough, and despising myself for not trying harder every time. And while I was striving hard, a part of me wanted to put the glass down. I watched others doing it, and envied them, wishing I could do the same. But I dared not. What will happen if I put the glass down? I didn't know. I didn't want to find out. It was scary. I feared the silence, the quietness. What will I do with all this energy? For me putting the glass down meant losing control. What if I do not have control on my life? Then there was this thick layer of self-imposed responsibility - to make my parents happy, to make my husband happy. I told myself the same story over and over again, that thought process kept conditioning me. If I become an engineer, my parents will be happy. If I came to the US, my parents will be proud. If I got a job, I could buy my husband all the cool gadgets and cars he likes, and afford for him the lifestyle he so desires. If I stay in my jobs I'll secure the green card, and my husband's career will take off. And on and on it went. I lived for the next thing that was just outside my reach and strove towards it with all my might, with the relentless effort I was so very capable of. I lived to make others happy, and too scared to allow myself or my needs to even surface. I had suppressed my desires so much that I didn't even know what they are or could be.
Today on long walks on the beach, I reflect. I see the futility of the incessant running without a break. I realize how important taking a break is. To rest. But how does one do it? I did not know how to rest!! I never stopped to find out! Even when sitting still, my mind is running million miles an hour - into the past and into the future, it can't seem to pause, it is afraid of pausing. The conditioning since childhood is strong, very strong. I have been swimming against the current all my life, letting go and letting the current take me along is very hard. To rest, to put the glass down, and tell myself that it is okay, is not easy at all. My mind is still addicted to the speed - what next hurdle to cross, what next mountain to climb, how to draw the better picture, more colors, more vibrant, etc. While my body is also so used to being exhausted, wading through molasses, it does not know how to rest either. Restlessness comes up like a bed of a thousand scorpions.
That is why I am learning to meditate. That is why I go to "self induced prison" twice a year, ten days of Vipassana boot-camp. To sit quiet for almost twelve hours a day, with no speech, no interaction, complete shut down of all external stimulation except the bare minimum that is required to live, and focus all my attention internally. I watch what is arising, and I slowly train my mind not to get scared, to feel comfortable and at peace with every sensation that arises. Learn to see the fine line between tolerance and acceptance. In meditation, I have seen extremes come up from deep inside - sadness, grief, passion, lust, restlessness, bliss, ecstasy, jealousy, desire, greed, envy, pride, tiredness, pain, fatigue, the list is long. I have so much bundled inside! We all do. Who needs entertainment from outside?! Look within, and it is better than any soap opera/reality tv show you can ever imagine or any sports arena or exotic vacation or race! You only have to learn to pause and watch as it plays out. This has been the most fascinating journey of my life thus far, and I know I have barely scratched the surface - it is to learn to watch my mind, to see the epics it spins. When a deep rooted sensation pops up, I can now sometimes watch my mind pick it up and create an avalanche, complete with a palpable juicy story-line that is so very irresistible. My extremely logical and analytical brain finds the story and its arguments so convincing that it builds even bigger mountains of it, and together we roll in it for hours, sometimes days and weeks; and then one day it pops. Woof! Gone. I get up and start again.
I got exposed to this technique in 2010, but my understanding and appreciation of the benefits of this practise did not hit home till about 2014 when I was in the thoes of personal loss, and since then I am learning this skill, at snail pace. It is not a pursuit of bliss, not even make-believe resting like a vacation, this is "real" resting. Learning to let go, put the glass down, effectively, allow everything to stop and learn to be comfortable with it. And over these years, my awareness has grown quite a bit, my equanimity is developing too, very slowly. On the cushion, or off the cushion, the clarity is developing and it is really a treat to watch the change. Mindfulness is developing too. It is like deep scrubbing, it hurts, but it peels off and new supple cells come up, fresh and young.
And to all this, one wise friend said - "Why hold up the glass of water, silly! Drink it!"
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| Through the mist, where the land, sea, and air meet, there is an understanding that penetrates |
"Holding a glass of water" analogy is kind of accurate in a little different sense for me. When I told a new friend about my childhood and adult life and the struggles, she said - "Soma, it seems like you were carrying the world on your shoulders like Atlas. You know you did not need to do that!!" That is right! I did not need to do that. I could have chosen not to even lift up the world, to refuse, to walk away. But I did not. And for forty years, I carried it on my shoulders, bent over and tired. When I look back, I feel very stupid, very ignorant, and very naive. I had complete and total disregard for my own well-being and it was pathological neglect of self. We can go into deep analysis of why it was so - there was this desire to be acknowledged by the people I loved who withheld love as a means to get what they wanted, then there was this intense need for affirmation coupled with having low self-worth, and the list is long. All these years I thought that "there is something wrong with me, I need to fix it". And as a result, I have been leading a very intense life. To the outside world, I seem to have done quite well. For example, I came to the US with only $800 and two suitcases, and today I am quite okay financially. I have lived in four continents, and move 21 times in my lifetime. By my mid thirties, I was capable of leading a $300+ million program of works with five teams working round the clock in four continents, and I played it like an expert orchestra conductor and I thrived on it. Today I run a growing engineering consulting business that has its own challenges. Even my hobbies, i.e. cooking, I do remarkably well because I am passionate about it. I used throw parties that had expertly crafted near-perfect entrees that my guests said gave them "foodgasms"! Yet, I have this strong inner judge that was invisible to everyone but myself - and she is merciless, relentless, driving me to exhaustion, anxiousness, and depression. This feeling of being not okay goes in perfect stride with deep loneliness. No matter if I am with family or friends or in the middle of a big conference of my professional world, deep inside I feel that I do not belong. There has been this deep undercurrent of personal deficiency. That is the glass of water that I have been holding up for all these years.
Last five years have been very difficult, I went through a series of shockers, one almost every year. First I had a near death experience in a car crash; then my mother passed away after a short painful battle with cancer that I witnessed from her bedside everyday for three months; then came the realization that my marriage had been indeed failing for decades but I was not prepared to let go, and which eventually led to our divorce after an anguished and frantic struggle; and with that came a cancer scare from a large watermelon sized tumor in my uterus which led to two major surgeries. It was hard, it was intense. But then, it was like this for almost all my life, really. When circumstances did not create hurdles that required Herculean effort, I created them for myself. For example, in late 2005, my immune system broke down and I was going blind as my eyes were being "rejected" by my body. After managing to baffle five top doctors in North Carolina, it was decided that I be put on strong immune suppressant drugs, like the ones they give to kidney transplant patients, with the hope that it will work. And what did I do? I trained and ran the Chicago Marathon in 2006, just to prove to myself that I can beat everything that comes my way. Yes, it might seem a commendable achievement to run a marathon while being sick, but truly, it was not required. It was as if I have been living in a trance, enveloped by this toxic gas that was constantly wanting me to strive for more as the status-quo was never good enough, and despising myself for not trying harder every time. And while I was striving hard, a part of me wanted to put the glass down. I watched others doing it, and envied them, wishing I could do the same. But I dared not. What will happen if I put the glass down? I didn't know. I didn't want to find out. It was scary. I feared the silence, the quietness. What will I do with all this energy? For me putting the glass down meant losing control. What if I do not have control on my life? Then there was this thick layer of self-imposed responsibility - to make my parents happy, to make my husband happy. I told myself the same story over and over again, that thought process kept conditioning me. If I become an engineer, my parents will be happy. If I came to the US, my parents will be proud. If I got a job, I could buy my husband all the cool gadgets and cars he likes, and afford for him the lifestyle he so desires. If I stay in my jobs I'll secure the green card, and my husband's career will take off. And on and on it went. I lived for the next thing that was just outside my reach and strove towards it with all my might, with the relentless effort I was so very capable of. I lived to make others happy, and too scared to allow myself or my needs to even surface. I had suppressed my desires so much that I didn't even know what they are or could be.
Today on long walks on the beach, I reflect. I see the futility of the incessant running without a break. I realize how important taking a break is. To rest. But how does one do it? I did not know how to rest!! I never stopped to find out! Even when sitting still, my mind is running million miles an hour - into the past and into the future, it can't seem to pause, it is afraid of pausing. The conditioning since childhood is strong, very strong. I have been swimming against the current all my life, letting go and letting the current take me along is very hard. To rest, to put the glass down, and tell myself that it is okay, is not easy at all. My mind is still addicted to the speed - what next hurdle to cross, what next mountain to climb, how to draw the better picture, more colors, more vibrant, etc. While my body is also so used to being exhausted, wading through molasses, it does not know how to rest either. Restlessness comes up like a bed of a thousand scorpions.
That is why I am learning to meditate. That is why I go to "self induced prison" twice a year, ten days of Vipassana boot-camp. To sit quiet for almost twelve hours a day, with no speech, no interaction, complete shut down of all external stimulation except the bare minimum that is required to live, and focus all my attention internally. I watch what is arising, and I slowly train my mind not to get scared, to feel comfortable and at peace with every sensation that arises. Learn to see the fine line between tolerance and acceptance. In meditation, I have seen extremes come up from deep inside - sadness, grief, passion, lust, restlessness, bliss, ecstasy, jealousy, desire, greed, envy, pride, tiredness, pain, fatigue, the list is long. I have so much bundled inside! We all do. Who needs entertainment from outside?! Look within, and it is better than any soap opera/reality tv show you can ever imagine or any sports arena or exotic vacation or race! You only have to learn to pause and watch as it plays out. This has been the most fascinating journey of my life thus far, and I know I have barely scratched the surface - it is to learn to watch my mind, to see the epics it spins. When a deep rooted sensation pops up, I can now sometimes watch my mind pick it up and create an avalanche, complete with a palpable juicy story-line that is so very irresistible. My extremely logical and analytical brain finds the story and its arguments so convincing that it builds even bigger mountains of it, and together we roll in it for hours, sometimes days and weeks; and then one day it pops. Woof! Gone. I get up and start again.
I got exposed to this technique in 2010, but my understanding and appreciation of the benefits of this practise did not hit home till about 2014 when I was in the thoes of personal loss, and since then I am learning this skill, at snail pace. It is not a pursuit of bliss, not even make-believe resting like a vacation, this is "real" resting. Learning to let go, put the glass down, effectively, allow everything to stop and learn to be comfortable with it. And over these years, my awareness has grown quite a bit, my equanimity is developing too, very slowly. On the cushion, or off the cushion, the clarity is developing and it is really a treat to watch the change. Mindfulness is developing too. It is like deep scrubbing, it hurts, but it peels off and new supple cells come up, fresh and young.
And to all this, one wise friend said - "Why hold up the glass of water, silly! Drink it!"
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