Considering Abundance

A student joined his master in the garden.

The student asked his master, “Is abundance freedom?”

There was a brief moment of silence, then the master bent over, picked up a rock, and handed it to the student.

The student accepted it and looked at the rock.

The master nodded.

And the student looked back at the rock. And then looked back at the master.

The master said nothing.

A long time passed before the master bent over again and handed the student another rock from the garden.

The student balanced both rocks in one hand and then transferred one to his left hand, just as the master recovered another rock from the garden and handed it to the student.

Then another. And another.

His master handed him too many rocks and the student’s hands were overwhelmed. The rocks fell from his grasp and littered the path near his feet. The student quickly crouched to the earth, anxious to sweep up the rocks again.

While the student kneeled to collect the rocks he dropped, the master placed just one rock perfectly balanced on the top of his own bald head, smiled, and walked away.

s1m0n

Running in Circles

When I was six, at the dinner table, I voiced a strong disagreement towards eating my vegetables. My parents – doing what parents do – attempted to encourage me to eat my vegetables by reminding me that they make the rules in the house and if I didn't like it I could just leave. Well, I took them up on that offer. I declared that I wanted to leave the house. I packed my bags. They drove me to the bus station. I stepped out of the car and looked down a long hall of people and trash, bags in hand, and looked back at my parents, who huddled together – barely able to contain their laughter – and I started to walk away. Instantly, the gravitas of my situation fell upon my mother and she ran up, hugged me, and pulled me into her. They then took me home.

It didn't stop there. When I was fourteen, I decided to move in with some friends. My mother went rifling through my stuff and found some Dexatrim tablets. Speed, she said. Hell, I just wanted to lose some weight. So, I left. I didn't tell my parents where I went. I was gone for a few days. They called the police. I was safe. I was living in the basement of my friend's place; he owned his own apartment. No big.

When I was seventeen, it was summer, and I decided to camp out under the stars near Battle Ground lake. I took my bike, my gear, and left. I left a note for the parental consent: “Gone camping. Be back tomorrow.” While I was out there, I met up with some people I knew, and I decided to stay for another night. Then, another. A week had past. Cops were called again. This time they found me.

Close to the end of my senior year, my dad caught me in a compromising position in my room. It was dark, 3am, and I was … downloading. Downloading programs for my Commodore 64. Back then, you were lucky to get in 1mb of data in a night, so I wanted to get an early start to download this stuff from a pirate board on the east coast. My dad, he warned me about this before, so he took my C64; well, actually, that was my second C64 – I had purchased it on my own, hid it, and used it at night, because he took my first one and grounded me. Well, I thought that was the shit – wasn't even rewarded for my clever replenishment of the asset; I mean, how fucking industrious, eh? – so I hung out over at another friend's place. His parents were cool. Didn't talk to my folks for a week.

Throughout my adult life, I would repeat this pattern. I'd meet a girl. We'd hit it off. Things were fine until she said something wrong and I'd piss off. I just started my car and drove. I'd drive everywhere: to the coast, to Ontario (Oregon), to Ashland, to Port Angeles. I'd come back, we'd split up.

In my first marriage, when I had a fight with my wife, I'd scram. I'd head over to PG/PF's and tell them about my problems. They would listen and I'd return to my crap relationship and eventually get in another fight and come back around. Eventually, I ended up staying... for a month. And I got a divorce.

The next girlfriend: same stuff, different day, except this time she liked to run, too. She'd take off. I'd take off. We'd text each other to apologize or to plead – beg! - to meet up, reconcile. And we did. Over and over. Eventually we married. And in my second marriage, when I had a fight with my wife, I'd scram. I'd head over to PG/PF's and tell them about my problems. They would listen and I'd return to my crap relationship and eventually get in another fight and come back around. If it sounds repetitive, it was. Painfully, stupidly repetitive. And, eventually, I ended up staying... for a month. And I got a divorce.

In the last two years I've been in a relationship, a poly relationship which – on the surface – would seem more screwed up than anything else, but it's the first relationship that I haven't run from. Since that time, I've had time to reflect.

Leaving... running... is selfish. I used to convince myself that it was the moral high-ground in that I could escape the situation to return calmer and more prepared to engage in constructive conversation. This didn't happen. Instead, I left because it returned some sense of control that I felt that I had lost, and, because I maliciously wanted my absence to be painfully remembered. I wanted to be missed.

Once, during my second marriage, I recall being alone one night after she had packed her things in the car and left with her kid. It was horribly silent. It was raining and just the sound of the outside, the 'drip-drop-drip' permeated the bedroom, and, when you're anxious and worried like that, you know, you can't sleep, so I was laying there for what seemed like an eternity, waiting, staring at the ceiling, watching my cell phone, and waiting for the call to talk, to reconcile, to make up. I felt awful. I was very alone. She had stolen something from me. She'd taken my breath away. Today, I still wish I could have done something differently that night. It hurts even now, not being able to tell her I'm sorry.

I think I saw then that walking away deprives your partner that breath – that chance – to make amends, to snuggle, or to mend the fence, or to apologize, or to argue, or to resolve the issue. Walking away short-circuits reconciliation and diminishes your partner. Walking away and then making up is a reinforcing cycle – the act of reconciliation may spike emotions, create more feelings of closeness for a while, and may bring you and your partner together, but for me, it became a negatively reinforcing cycle of “problem-attention-resolution”. Walking away is cowardly because it allows you to retreat and leaves the problem clearly at the feet of your partner. You've chosen not to deal with it. You've chosen to leave it – and her – all behind.

I'm thankful that I don't run anymore. I have a partner that doesn't leave me feeling out of control, or, without my breath. She is a communicator and I am never lacking. I am also thankful that I have come to realize that a lifetime of running took me nowhere (just in circles), aimlessly ending up exactly where I was before. Now, I am content.

I have to tell you: if you're a runner, before you run again, think about how many times you had done so before and about how many times you had to start over, and about how much life seems to repeat itself. The pattern isn't found in your partners but the lowest common denominator of yourself, and how you've always dealt with your problems. And in your retrospection you may come to realize - much earlier than I and hopefully at less expense - how much agony your partner feels when they're so carelessly tossed away.

s1m0n

p.s. - Yeah, sorry I haven't been writing for a while. My attention has been seriously removed as of late, working too many hours and building up content on my consultancy's website. I'll try to refocus my priorities. You know it's bad when PolyGestalt (a.k.a. Silent Bob) has been able to blog twice since my last post... can't freekin' have that...

Thoughts on My Question

Somewhere, on a hilly countryside of autumn shades of yellow and orange, I rested, sat, and spoke to Rock. I asked, “Why do bad things happen to good people?”

Moss and grime covered the rock. It had been there for countless years. It had seen much time come and pass, and Rock responded with a sense of tedium. “In the time it will take me to explain, there are people who flee in terror for their lives. There are animals hunted, cornered, and killed. There are families that will die, and children that are born. The universe is apathetic, impartial, and blind to the tragedies and triumphs of those things that dwell within it. All suffer pain and experience joy in the quiet emptiness of space.”

“Not true,” said the grasshopper, leaping from the tall grass and landing in my lap. The grasshopper adjusted itself and balanced forward, rubbing its rear legs together. Hopper cocked its’ head to the right and said, “The universe isn’t at all impartial. It is governed by a beautiful, eternal being. It is the will of God that the righteous suffer pain. It is the will of God that animals are hunted, people flee, Hoppers jump, and Rocks are grumpy. We are, we've been, and we'll be by the greatness of the divine!”

A third voice chimed in. It was small, tiny, barely noticeable. A brown field mouse climbed atop Rock and leaned on its haunches and said, “And in saying that, Hopper argues that we’re all victims. Well, I don’t buy it. Do I foolishly leave my burrow when Snake is hunting? I know that my chances are slim; I’d likely be devoured! Instead, I wait until it is safe to leave. I’m not a victim. I make my own choices. I suffer my own consequences.”

I narrowed my eyes and lifted Mouse into my hand so I could hear her better. I asked, "But what if there isn't a choice to be made? I wish to just... to accept this moment and this time for what it is. I want to be content. I'm not sure if I have many choices, now, in these bad times of greed and fear... I'm not sure many of my kind have 'choices'-"

And then Hopper interrupted, “Fools! Choice is just an illusion. Everything’s preordained. God knows all, sees all, created all. It is all planned out in the Great Story. We suffer for the greatness of our souls! If you just read the Great Story -”

“Ridiculous,” Rock countered. “If what you said was true, Hopper, then there’s no benevolence in God. God designs the suffering for all. God would be a choreographer of all misery…”

And Hopper shouted, “But there is good reason for it! A divine plan! As the Good Story says, ‘That which doesn’t destroy us makes us stronger’. God plans our trials and tribulations for the work we must perform in life He’s given us…”

“…and just as unsettling,” continued Rock, “Mouse believes that she can control her circumstances; that her universe can be entirely manipulated and managed. Look how small and insignificant she is! I’d wager you struggle with that, Mouse: futily attempting to control everything about you. Why, I can no more control the winds that throw down the leaves that blanket me for the winter. Other times, I am blanketed by deep snow. Covered by leaves or snow, I am still Rock. The universe moves about me and I am unmovable. What happens, happens.”

Mouse scampered in my palm to face Rock and pointed a scolding finger. “You _choose_ not to move, Rock. It’s your choice to stay where you are and to endure the wet of the leaves or the cold of the snow. You could control where you roll and where you stay, but you choose this. And Hopper, if something bad is to happen to you, then it’s all explainable, isn’t it? You can abdicate responsibility for everything because it’s all in somebody else’s hands.”

“You are anxious and worried, aren’t you, Mouse,” I asked, and Mouse looked shyly to her feet.

“If I didn’t worry,” Mouse said, glancing away, “then I’d get eaten. I came close, once. Snake almost had me. See, I have a scar. Just here. It reminds me of Snake’s fangs. How much it hurt. I can do better next time, though. I'm smarter. I learn. I can make sure Snake doesn’t see me.”

Finally, I nodded to myself in understanding. Mouse breaks a universal law - the natural flow of things. It is her earnest intent to control in which her prison of anxiety is built, and within she'll never find contentment. Then, I turned my attention to Hopper. “And you are without blame. What happens to you is the will of the Higher Power."

Hopper folded his little green arms and smugly jeered.

"That is convenient," I said, and his smile waned, becoming a cross glare. "Too convenient; if all is set, you aren’t motivated to learn from experiences and change your behaviors.”

“And why should I?” retorted Hopper, crossing his four forward arms. “I know what is right in the universe and His plan for me. It is you who lives in ignorance. I know that I will be greatly rewarded for my faith at the End.”

Finally, I spoke directly to Rock. “And in your reckoning, the universe moves about you. The pain and suffering that befalls you is just as it is.”

“Nobody is good. Bad things aren’t evil,” Rock responded. “They just are. Things are as they will be. Bad things don’t befall me because I am not good and those things aren’t bad. They just are.”

I thought about this for a long time until finally I said, “So, ultimately, we can become so disconnected that our apathy for the world around us makes us stoic, cold, and stationary. We watch, we... over-analyze. We can remain disconnected and prideful about our disconnection. We can rationalize endlessly that the universe is a shallow and meaningless place. Instead of living, may watch all that which is alive and critique it, as life passes us by.”

All were quiet for a time. Then, as I stood to leave, Mouse said, very quietly to me, “I... I wish I had more faith. I wish I could trust more.”

“I wish there was more,” Rock admitted. “I would like to be more than what I am, and where I am, and who I am. Is there more than the observable?”

And Hopper pleaded, with tears, as much as a grasshopper can cry, “Why… why does God hate me so much? I work so hard every summer, but the winter always comes and I go hungry. Am I a bad person? Do I deserve it?”

I sat Mouse softly on the earth and stepped back a single step, brought my hands together in prayer and bowed. Then I said, “Thank you. You’re all very kind, and I think I understand now. I realize that I cannot possibly control everything. I realize that I cannot retreat from the world and critique it. I realize that I must retain faith and hope in things better. I must strive to see the world as it is; I must humbly accept the lessons I’ve learned; I must not succumb to paranoia or despair over my shortcomings; I must have faith in the moment of now.”

And with that, Rock - predictably - said nothing. Mouse scampered into the tall grass then disappeared. And Hopper leaped into the air and bounded away. Alone in the wood, I turned away, walked my own path, and returned home.

s1m0n

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