From Cabin Fever to Clear Focus

I’ve been in lockdown mode a lot longer than most people because I recognized the immense danger of COVID-19 after (I believe) falling victim to it in mid-February and just barely surviving the experience.

 

So, I’ve been isolated more than two months as of this writing. During this time, I’ve gone through all the stages of grief (denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance) of losing my freedom for the foreseeable future.

 

Now that I’ve reached the acceptance stage, I’m deciding what to do with the rest of the time I’ll be sequestered in place.

 

I’m going to read lots of humorous and uplifting books, some just for the sheer  fun of it, others for the insights I can gain about the up sides of crises, challenges and suffering.

 

“The UP sides of crises, challenges and suffering??? WTF?!” you might be thinking…

 

Yes. The UP sides.

 

I’ve just finished reading The Book Of Joy by the Dalai Lama and Archibishop Desmond Tutu and their scribe, Douglas Abrams.   Reading it has invigorated me and helped me shift my perspective from “this COVID-19 pandemic sucks” (which it does; acceptance!) to “what goodness can rise from its ashes, and is there anthing more I can do to help make it happen?”

 

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These two international treasures, the Dalai Lama and Archbishop Tutu, have been through lifetime-long traumas and challenges that none of us reading this can even imagine, let alone imagine enduring with the equanimity and joy that they have.

 

And yet, here they are, shining examples of beings whose joy of living emanates from every visible pore. They laugh often, and love much. They pick on each other like brothers, and jostle, and joke, and laugh and giggle.

 

They have no enemies,  although there are people who would kill them in a heartbeat if they could get close enough to do it.  They embrace their adversaries as fellow sojourners, as prone to suffering, unhelpful thoughts, and error as they are.

 

Reading this book, I was able to identify where my “righteous anger” emanates from. It comes from my innate ability to empathize, walk someone else’s shoes and suffer with them. It comes from my compassion.

 

But I misuse it.  I rale against those seemingly lacking compassion and empathy. I find myself hating them, instead of pitying or forgiving them.

 

When I see refugee children in cages, or transgender women being murdered, or starving children, or people of color discounted, or essential workers being made into martyrs because of absent protective gear, or reporters treated like enemies for asking legitimate questions, or beaten animals, or grouchy, gun-toting groups of thoughtless, self-centered people violating stay-at-home orders, or any other kind of sentient suffering, I hurt... and then I get enraged.

 

I assign tormentors labels: brutes, psychopaths, sociopaths, sons of bitches, bastards, far-right wing nuts, white supremacist f***ers… and the list goes on (and gets even worse)…

 

I don’t recognize these peoples’ humanity, or think about their brokenness, their fear, their torment, their life stories. I just see predators, ignorant jerks, and self-involved narcissists.

 

I want justice, not justification. I don’t want to feel sorry for them.

I want them to feel sorry for what they’re doing.

For what they’ve done.

And they don’t seem to feel that way at all.

 

But reading The Book of Joy has rustled up my sense of guilt for “hating” the haters, the destroyers, the unenlightened. I know for a fact that we can’t drive out darkness with darkness. Only light drives away darkness.

 

As long as I consider them enemies, I can only wish them magically transformed, not well.

I can only wish them the same illness they have visted on their perceived enemies/threats until they figure out what it’s like to be considered expendable pawns.

I can only wish them for them an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.

But if we go that route, all we’ll have at the end of the struggle are blind, toothless people.

 

 The Book of Joy reminds us that we’re better than that, that there is a way to overcome learned fear and bigotry with familiarity, forgiveness and fellowship.

 

This doesn’t mean dropping our pursuit of justice.

 

The Dalai Lama and Archbishop Tutu never stopped pointing out the cruelty that was thrust on the millions of people in their care. They just made it a point to do what they could and then find the joy that remains.

 

In the Dalai Lama’s case, he looked at the benefts his exile delivered to him. Had the Chinese not turned him  into a refugee and his Tibetan culture into a forbidden entity, he wouldn’t have met Archbishop Tutu, or been introduced to the  world in the way he was.  Now he is sharing his wisdom, insights, learning and joy globally, not just regionally. He has extended the Tibetan culture and enriched our world markedly.

 

It’s a truly terrific book. If you haven’t read it yet, I highly encourage you to do so. There is too much in it to share with you here, but it has truly transformed my attitude and, I think, made me a better representative of the policies I believe in.

 

I don’t have to slash and burn to be heard.

 

I can smile, laugh and cajole.

 

And I’ll just bet that smiling, laughing and cajoling will triumph over shashing and burning every single time.

 

Before anyone will listen to another person’s point of view, they have to believe you have their best interests at heart, not your own, and that you’ve truly listened to their concerns, fears and worries before posing a solution or paradigm shift.

 

“The moral arc of the universe is long but it bends toward justice.”

 

We don’t have to finish the race, we just have to stay in it until others come along to take the baton.  If we can show our hand and share our vision for a peaceful, equitable future, it’s far more likely there will be plenty more eager hands to grab the baton and run with it…

 

But being friendly and un-scary comes first.

 

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