Yesterday, after thinking that I must find a way to live with the conflict and the desire for my Mother, my parents, and wanting to return home to them I bumped across a series of videos on how to meditate on YouTube by Yuttadhamma (http://www.youtube.com/yuttadhammo).
I watched videos 1 through 5. (You can get a summary of the message but not the actual technique from the Vipassana Meditation page of the Sirimangalo organization's website: http://www.sirimangalo.org/vipassana) After watching these videos I realized that in order to live with the conflict and desire for my Mother I must put forth effort and know this with my mind, feel this desire fully and acknowledge it by articulating it in a sentence in my mind and also out loud. The key here is to really put forth the effort to know, to know and fully experience and be with these longings/sensations, and acknowledge them by putting them into language.
By thinking about this, I recognize what I didn't recognize yesterday when I was writing my entry. I had enough wit to know that I was not really suffering from ignorance. Desire yes, but ignorance seemed like a cop out. This is because I am not in fact suffering from ignorance but doubt. I understand that now. I have a lot of evidence but the reason it doesn't make an impact and calm me down is because I don't live mindfully, don't fully meditate on my existence with all its attendant desires, thoughts, emotions. I don't really experience my life with consciousness. If I did that then the argument over the question of who my parents are will be over. If I can experience with consciousness and mindfullness my longing for my Mother there is no authority on this planet or in any realm that can counter argue the truth of this. I am not playacting for any one's benefit in my heart. I am not writhing in suffering for some one's viewing pleasure. The second I really meditate on this experience, the ignorance vanishes, the doubt vanishes. I am no longer in suffering. Suffering then comes from a lack of acknowledgement of my longing, the truth of my longing for my Mother, of not living in the present and fully experiencing my life mindfully.
I don't need a single argument or piece of evidence beyond the truth, the reality of my longing, the presence of my longing, my yearning for my Mother. There is nothing else needed. I don't need physical evidence. Everything else is tangential. I am not here to prove anything to anybody. I will not free myself from suffering if others know or believe I am not the daughter of the people I grew up with. I will free myself from suffering by acknowledging the truth of my own experience, seeing the reality of my longing.
I want to go home. In experiencing this longing for my Mother, in living this yearning fully mindfully and with consciousness and articulating it in language the conflict vanishes. How can there by doubt when I am busy experiencing the desire to go home, the desire for my Mother? How can I fully support opposite positions in a conflict over who my parents are: the people I grew up with are my biological parents vs. No! the people I grew up with are not my biological parents!"? In the midst of the reality of experiencing myself screaming in pain for my mother I cannot stand there arbitrarily saying that some other woman is my mother. It makes no sense. If she were my mother I would not be in the condition I am enduring. The very existence of this longing is sufficient proof that the woman I grew up with is in fact not my Mother. I do not need any further proof from reality that the people I grew up with are not my parents.
To maintain peacefulness then requires me to live mindfully 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. If I live constantly in truth, in reality then I can see that there is nothing to fight over. Of course the desire for my Mother doesn't go away. Nor is the question of who my parents are the only issue that needs monitoring in my life. There are a plethora of things that I am constantly being deluged with at every moment. But I feel like if I can manage the desire to go home, if I know that I have it, at least this one problem will cease to have such a deletrious capacity to skew my experience of present moment reality. If I don't acknowledge that I have this desire then it can be a nightmare trying to live life. The source of my problem is not living mindfully. By living mindfully all the time, I can stay in touch with what I am feeling, what I am thinking. By doing this I can see for example that I want to go home, I want to see my Mother. When I acknowledge this desire, then there is no doubt that the people I grew up with are not in fact my parents.
One final note to all this is that in all fairness I have to state I am not sure if my interpretation and use of the materials presented in the meditation videos and the sirimangalo website is really in line with the intention of its authors. I have been wrestling with the problem of how to not forget my insights and conclusions about my situation and history. It had not occurred to me to keep saying this all the time. It had not occurred to me to live with this truth from the moment I wake up to the moment I go to sleep. I thought that once I had figured it out I was done with the problem. My question to my self was "How do I remember these things? What can I do to keep these things in my mind?" The meditation videos and the Sirimangalo website made me aware that there is a possibility which I had not considered: Go ahead and devote myself to the project of constantly reminding myself of my insights and conclusions. This is okay. In fact it is good to pay attention to your mind. It is not necessary to always be thinking about something or nothing. In fact living life is about paying attention to your mind - paying attention to your mind (mental phenomena) and body (body phenomena).
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Structure of My Suffering
As I continue to think about the sources of my existential angst, I would say that the two following paradigms map my suffering in its most essential form:
1) this is the state of affairs vs. no! this is the state of affairs.
Alternate formulations include:
a) this is the true state of affairs vs. no! this is the true state of affairs.
b) this is the state of affairs vs. no! this is the true state of affairs.
c) this is the true state of affairs vs. no! this is the state of affairs.
2) I want________________ - most specifically, especially something I cannot have.
My raging internal conflict of these are my parents vs. no! these are not my parents falls into the first paradigm.
My desire to go home, my desire for my parents falls into the second paradigm.
Between these two paradigms, my life is a living hell. The circumscribe every aspect of my existence. Every want becomes an unreasonable want for something I cannot have, should not have. Every opinion, assessment, conclusion is subject to constantly second-guessing myself.
I think that this falls neatly into the categories of ignorance and desire. It seems I am suffering because I am in ignorance about the true state of affairs one and because I desire something which is contrary to reality. The trick is to see that it is really not being in ignorance at all or wanting something that is contrary to reality. I do know that the people I grew up with are not my parents. It is simply the training of their arguments which continues to reverbrate within me and gained a life of its own in myself.
What constitutes evidence? What are the forms of evidence? For example, one powerful piece of evidence which really moved me is the truth of the existence of a structure called "parent-child bond". When I saw this in action, acknowledged it is reality, understood its nature, I was shocked by its ramifications to my own life. But it was immediately apparent despite the shock after I had a concept to frame my experience, to label what I was witnessing. It was obvious from this that the woman who claimed to be my mother was not in fact my mother. I don't even know how to talk to her. Other forms of evidence: physical appearance, abilities, tendencies, affinities, tastes, personality, likes, dislikes, proclivities, skin color, skeletal structure, facial structure, tone of voice, comportment, teeth all radically set me as different from the people who claim that I am their child. In addition there are incidents, verbal accusations, verbal allusions and multitude of other exchanged evidence built up over the years I lived with them said in anger, said in hatred, said in frustration. Yet none of these moved me as powerfully as the parent-child bond.
So this argument despite the various pieces of evidence resurfaces in various guises. I see a portion of my problem. Not the entire problem. I don't understand what my problem is, where it stems from, how to address is, how to frame it, how to understand it, how to get my mind around it. The enormity of the evil of abducting a child is one such stumbling block to understanding my situation. Another problem is constantly being told by them that they are my parents. "I'm your mother aren't I...." etc.....
Despite my describing myself as opinionated, I really don't care to force my preferences and opinions on others. I could care less what and how others do things in contrast to me. It does not disturb me or upset me or anger me to see difference from me. So in this regard I am not particular about enforcing my opinions on others. I am not even particular about enforcing my own opinons on myself. But this one issue of the truth of my parents, which is something I haven't really seen, is something which binds me to suffering as every other born being. I don't think this would have been issue for me if I had been left alone to see: ok these people are not my parents; i don't know who my real parents are; i don't know where my real parents are; i don't know where i am from; etc.... It is an artificially created situtation in my body generated through years of hitting, yelling, threats, and other forms of violence and abuse.
The other thing which baffles me and stymies me is my physical and unquenchable longing for my Mother. There is nothing I can do to assuage this constant pressure, this constant want.
I think it is important for me to be clear about what I want: I want to go home; I want my mother.
I think it is also important to be clear about my internal fight: the people I grew up with are my biological parents vs. no! those people are not my biological parents.
This is the source of my existential angst:
What I want: I want to go home. I want my parents.
Internal conflict: the people I grew up with are my biological parents vs. the people I grew up with are not my biological parents.
This is the reality that animates me and drives me. If I go around being unclear about this, I will make the mistake of casting my current wants and confusions into the two core issues that fuel the suffering in my existence. Aside from the two things that fuel my existential angst, everything else is trivial, meaningless, even if they are more relevantly life-and-death issues. One life is a shadowl life. The life that is given all the weight is this other life absorbed in wanting to go home and wanting to establish once and for all the identity of my true biological parents.
It is not just my own day to day desires, problems that need to be resolved it can be larger issues of the social meta-entity of a region, a country, a group of people that I fight out in this way. In this way there is no end to my suffering. I am unable to see clearly what it is that troubles me and stay focused on that. I am drowning in a sea of cares - most of which are not even mine. The only reason for my experiencing it is that my problems are structurally similar to the problems of those around me. If I want to see an end to my suffering I need to keep a firm grip on what it is that ails me and live with this knowledge. It may not relieve me of my ailment but at least it keeps things manageable.
1) this is the state of affairs vs. no! this is the state of affairs.
Alternate formulations include:
a) this is the true state of affairs vs. no! this is the true state of affairs.
b) this is the state of affairs vs. no! this is the true state of affairs.
c) this is the true state of affairs vs. no! this is the state of affairs.
2) I want________________ - most specifically, especially something I cannot have.
My raging internal conflict of these are my parents vs. no! these are not my parents falls into the first paradigm.
My desire to go home, my desire for my parents falls into the second paradigm.
Between these two paradigms, my life is a living hell. The circumscribe every aspect of my existence. Every want becomes an unreasonable want for something I cannot have, should not have. Every opinion, assessment, conclusion is subject to constantly second-guessing myself.
I think that this falls neatly into the categories of ignorance and desire. It seems I am suffering because I am in ignorance about the true state of affairs one and because I desire something which is contrary to reality. The trick is to see that it is really not being in ignorance at all or wanting something that is contrary to reality. I do know that the people I grew up with are not my parents. It is simply the training of their arguments which continues to reverbrate within me and gained a life of its own in myself.
What constitutes evidence? What are the forms of evidence? For example, one powerful piece of evidence which really moved me is the truth of the existence of a structure called "parent-child bond". When I saw this in action, acknowledged it is reality, understood its nature, I was shocked by its ramifications to my own life. But it was immediately apparent despite the shock after I had a concept to frame my experience, to label what I was witnessing. It was obvious from this that the woman who claimed to be my mother was not in fact my mother. I don't even know how to talk to her. Other forms of evidence: physical appearance, abilities, tendencies, affinities, tastes, personality, likes, dislikes, proclivities, skin color, skeletal structure, facial structure, tone of voice, comportment, teeth all radically set me as different from the people who claim that I am their child. In addition there are incidents, verbal accusations, verbal allusions and multitude of other exchanged evidence built up over the years I lived with them said in anger, said in hatred, said in frustration. Yet none of these moved me as powerfully as the parent-child bond.
So this argument despite the various pieces of evidence resurfaces in various guises. I see a portion of my problem. Not the entire problem. I don't understand what my problem is, where it stems from, how to address is, how to frame it, how to understand it, how to get my mind around it. The enormity of the evil of abducting a child is one such stumbling block to understanding my situation. Another problem is constantly being told by them that they are my parents. "I'm your mother aren't I...." etc.....
Despite my describing myself as opinionated, I really don't care to force my preferences and opinions on others. I could care less what and how others do things in contrast to me. It does not disturb me or upset me or anger me to see difference from me. So in this regard I am not particular about enforcing my opinions on others. I am not even particular about enforcing my own opinons on myself. But this one issue of the truth of my parents, which is something I haven't really seen, is something which binds me to suffering as every other born being. I don't think this would have been issue for me if I had been left alone to see: ok these people are not my parents; i don't know who my real parents are; i don't know where my real parents are; i don't know where i am from; etc.... It is an artificially created situtation in my body generated through years of hitting, yelling, threats, and other forms of violence and abuse.
The other thing which baffles me and stymies me is my physical and unquenchable longing for my Mother. There is nothing I can do to assuage this constant pressure, this constant want.
I think it is important for me to be clear about what I want: I want to go home; I want my mother.
I think it is also important to be clear about my internal fight: the people I grew up with are my biological parents vs. no! those people are not my biological parents.
This is the source of my existential angst:
What I want: I want to go home. I want my parents.
Internal conflict: the people I grew up with are my biological parents vs. the people I grew up with are not my biological parents.
This is the reality that animates me and drives me. If I go around being unclear about this, I will make the mistake of casting my current wants and confusions into the two core issues that fuel the suffering in my existence. Aside from the two things that fuel my existential angst, everything else is trivial, meaningless, even if they are more relevantly life-and-death issues. One life is a shadowl life. The life that is given all the weight is this other life absorbed in wanting to go home and wanting to establish once and for all the identity of my true biological parents.
It is not just my own day to day desires, problems that need to be resolved it can be larger issues of the social meta-entity of a region, a country, a group of people that I fight out in this way. In this way there is no end to my suffering. I am unable to see clearly what it is that troubles me and stay focused on that. I am drowning in a sea of cares - most of which are not even mine. The only reason for my experiencing it is that my problems are structurally similar to the problems of those around me. If I want to see an end to my suffering I need to keep a firm grip on what it is that ails me and live with this knowledge. It may not relieve me of my ailment but at least it keeps things manageable.
Introductions
Introductions are terribly traumatic for me. It is an opening salvo a machine gun litany of questions to which I don't have answers I have to endure every time I have to face someone new. "Hi. What is your name?" "Where are you from?" "What do you do?" "Who are your parents?" "How old are you?" Basics. But these seemingly simple innocuous questions are like nuclear detonations for me. They are extremely upsetting because they remind me that I am not convinced by the answers I do have and I don't have answers that satisfy me.
My husband points out to me that I am a very angry woman. I was upset by such an unflattering characterization. More to the point, I don't even recognize I am angry. But yesterday I finally saw myself as angry.
I am constantly engaged in a fight. I am a very opinionated person. I have views about practically everything. These views more often than not do not mesh nicely with what is the general, prevailing view. Hence it seems I am at loggerheads all the time over the silliest things. But I have finally realized that the points of conflict that I constantly endure, live through each day can really be organized around a few key issues:
"I really want S." This really means "I want to go home." "I want my Mom and Dad."
"You are wrong. This is the correct..." This really means "You people are not my parents." "This is not my home. "
I have a difficult time accepting my life. I don't accept the fact that I am fighting. I am tired of fighting. Yet I don't know what it is I am fighting. I am fighting the truth of my history, of my existence, of having questions about my identity and parentage. At the most basic level, this is a conflict of acceptance: I deeply and sincerely and most emphatically am convinced that the people I grew up with are not my biological parents. This is the truth as far as my body is concerned. I do not accept the people I grew up with as my parents. This denial is in the very marrow of my bones, in my blood, in my guts, it transcends every sort of rationalization I have attempted, every mental habit I have tried to assume to quiet and shut this voice up. I am engaged in a battle with myself one side proclaiming these people who label themselves as my parents are not my parents and another side saying that they are, especially in light of the fact there doesn't seem to be any contrary evidence. What constitutes evidence? I don't know.
I find it vaguely unsatisfying and am defensive when I say I am housewife/homemaker - it is not exactly the most prestigious of job titles. Most people can't imagine what I could possibly do all day long. They think because I am not going outside the house, getting a paycheck the work I am engaged in is trivial and unimportant - not a legitimate expenditure of my time or efforts. They think I don't do anything of use or importance and sleep all day. They think I am a bum. This despite the fact that there is quite a bit of work involved in running and maintaining a functioning home. I am busy from well before sun-up to well after sundown. In addition to all the jobs that need to be done to run a home, I am also variously engaged in reading, writing, reseraching, painting, playing musical instruments and musical composition. Many people make a full-time job out of any one of the things I do for a fraction of my day. People call themselves chefs, musicians, writers, artists, servants, cleaners, maids, accountants. They have a job title and a paycheck. This makes their job/activities legitimate. I usually get attacked when I say I am a homemaker/housewife and therefore am a bit nervous and defensive about saying this. But saying that I am a housewife/homemaker is nowhere near as difficult as trying to answer the question "Where are you from?" "So, what do your parents do?"
It seems like I live two realities. On the one hand I think I am living my life - eating, cooking, etc. But this just seems to be a surface gloss. The reality that truly animates me is absolutely, wholly absorbed with the questions "Who are my parents? Where am I from?" Because I am opinionated, every opinion becomes a proxy battle for the real battle I am waging with myself: The people I grew up with are not my parents. vs The people I grew up with are my parents. In other words, every opionion of mine insofar as it differs from the prevailing views becomes something I fight over at an epic level. The fight over the identity of my parents is recast as a fight over my opinions. I believe I am fighting some unknown entity over how I should dress, or what I should eat etc. Life is nothing but an endless fight from the moment I open my eyes to the moment I fall asleep. Another unending face of this battle is my unflagging whine: "I want to go home." This is the only thing I want at some level of me. Unfortunately, I don't know where home is, how to get home. I am always left with the feeling of being unable to meet my needs, being able to deal with myself. Because I want various things in the course of the day, each want becomes a desperate battle for something I cannot have, something I can never satisfy. This contributes to a constant sense of failure. On the one hand I know the people I grew up with are not my parents. On the other hand, I don't know how to get to my real parents, how to get home. Even if I successfully establish for the moment the issue of my parentage, I am stymied by the question of how to get home, how to get to my parents, how to find out who my parents are and resolve this question of identity.
Until yesterday, I didn't see all this. I certainly don't live with this truth, this reality all the time. Until yesterday I couldn't even see that this was my fundamental problem, the source of my existential angst. I didn't see my rage. I didn't see the enormous, life-and-death importance the proper identification of parents has for me.
I am angry. I am angry that I even have this question, this issue. I am angry that I am not with my parents. I am angry that I have had to suffer what I have suffered. I should not have been separated from my parents - my Mother. I don't accept the events of my life.
All this unacknowledged rage is toxic. If I think there is rage everywhere, well I am contributing to the general problem. If we look at recent world history, there is good reason for a lot of people to be enraged. Every nook and corner of the globe is either presently experiencing and/or recently have experienced bloodbaths galore. There are extremely evil actions be perpetrated on every segment of the general population and planet Earth herself. There are a lot of things going on in everybody's life that they cannot possibly be happy with or accept. All this contributes to a soup of rage. The biggest problem with this rage is that it is burrowed away in each person. The person has no access to their own rage, they can't see it, can't understand why it is there, can't see a way out.
In my case, I was brutally forced by the people I grew up with to not express my doubts, to deal with these issues in an open and rational manner. So the battle has become internalized and gone underground. I was called "crazy" for saying "I want to go home." "I want my parents." "You are not my Mother and Father." This battle is so old, so longstanding, I don't even notice it anymore. I don't remember when it started. I didn't even know until recently the shape of this argument. All of these questions didn't disappear because of the training achieved through brutal physical abuse every time I voiced a question. These questions and the attendant fight went underground, went inside of me. This battle and the attendant effects of battle are all occurring within me. It has taken many years to re-access the original questions. To give myself a voice.
I think the beginning of the healing process is marked with painful questions. Certainly I have struggled and suffered as I have tried to understand myself, to be well, to achieve peace. I have yet to accomplish these things. I guess what lies ahead is trying to spend time experiencing the battle and want in their original shape. Until recently, my opinions and daily wants have transformed the original issues. It will take time to accept the original issues and to also accept the fact of their existence and integralness to my personal history.
My husband points out to me that I am a very angry woman. I was upset by such an unflattering characterization. More to the point, I don't even recognize I am angry. But yesterday I finally saw myself as angry.
I am constantly engaged in a fight. I am a very opinionated person. I have views about practically everything. These views more often than not do not mesh nicely with what is the general, prevailing view. Hence it seems I am at loggerheads all the time over the silliest things. But I have finally realized that the points of conflict that I constantly endure, live through each day can really be organized around a few key issues:
"I really want S." This really means "I want to go home." "I want my Mom and Dad."
"You are wrong. This is the correct..." This really means "You people are not my parents." "This is not my home. "
I have a difficult time accepting my life. I don't accept the fact that I am fighting. I am tired of fighting. Yet I don't know what it is I am fighting. I am fighting the truth of my history, of my existence, of having questions about my identity and parentage. At the most basic level, this is a conflict of acceptance: I deeply and sincerely and most emphatically am convinced that the people I grew up with are not my biological parents. This is the truth as far as my body is concerned. I do not accept the people I grew up with as my parents. This denial is in the very marrow of my bones, in my blood, in my guts, it transcends every sort of rationalization I have attempted, every mental habit I have tried to assume to quiet and shut this voice up. I am engaged in a battle with myself one side proclaiming these people who label themselves as my parents are not my parents and another side saying that they are, especially in light of the fact there doesn't seem to be any contrary evidence. What constitutes evidence? I don't know.
I find it vaguely unsatisfying and am defensive when I say I am housewife/homemaker - it is not exactly the most prestigious of job titles. Most people can't imagine what I could possibly do all day long. They think because I am not going outside the house, getting a paycheck the work I am engaged in is trivial and unimportant - not a legitimate expenditure of my time or efforts. They think I don't do anything of use or importance and sleep all day. They think I am a bum. This despite the fact that there is quite a bit of work involved in running and maintaining a functioning home. I am busy from well before sun-up to well after sundown. In addition to all the jobs that need to be done to run a home, I am also variously engaged in reading, writing, reseraching, painting, playing musical instruments and musical composition. Many people make a full-time job out of any one of the things I do for a fraction of my day. People call themselves chefs, musicians, writers, artists, servants, cleaners, maids, accountants. They have a job title and a paycheck. This makes their job/activities legitimate. I usually get attacked when I say I am a homemaker/housewife and therefore am a bit nervous and defensive about saying this. But saying that I am a housewife/homemaker is nowhere near as difficult as trying to answer the question "Where are you from?" "So, what do your parents do?"
It seems like I live two realities. On the one hand I think I am living my life - eating, cooking, etc. But this just seems to be a surface gloss. The reality that truly animates me is absolutely, wholly absorbed with the questions "Who are my parents? Where am I from?" Because I am opinionated, every opinion becomes a proxy battle for the real battle I am waging with myself: The people I grew up with are not my parents. vs The people I grew up with are my parents. In other words, every opionion of mine insofar as it differs from the prevailing views becomes something I fight over at an epic level. The fight over the identity of my parents is recast as a fight over my opinions. I believe I am fighting some unknown entity over how I should dress, or what I should eat etc. Life is nothing but an endless fight from the moment I open my eyes to the moment I fall asleep. Another unending face of this battle is my unflagging whine: "I want to go home." This is the only thing I want at some level of me. Unfortunately, I don't know where home is, how to get home. I am always left with the feeling of being unable to meet my needs, being able to deal with myself. Because I want various things in the course of the day, each want becomes a desperate battle for something I cannot have, something I can never satisfy. This contributes to a constant sense of failure. On the one hand I know the people I grew up with are not my parents. On the other hand, I don't know how to get to my real parents, how to get home. Even if I successfully establish for the moment the issue of my parentage, I am stymied by the question of how to get home, how to get to my parents, how to find out who my parents are and resolve this question of identity.
Until yesterday, I didn't see all this. I certainly don't live with this truth, this reality all the time. Until yesterday I couldn't even see that this was my fundamental problem, the source of my existential angst. I didn't see my rage. I didn't see the enormous, life-and-death importance the proper identification of parents has for me.
I am angry. I am angry that I even have this question, this issue. I am angry that I am not with my parents. I am angry that I have had to suffer what I have suffered. I should not have been separated from my parents - my Mother. I don't accept the events of my life.
All this unacknowledged rage is toxic. If I think there is rage everywhere, well I am contributing to the general problem. If we look at recent world history, there is good reason for a lot of people to be enraged. Every nook and corner of the globe is either presently experiencing and/or recently have experienced bloodbaths galore. There are extremely evil actions be perpetrated on every segment of the general population and planet Earth herself. There are a lot of things going on in everybody's life that they cannot possibly be happy with or accept. All this contributes to a soup of rage. The biggest problem with this rage is that it is burrowed away in each person. The person has no access to their own rage, they can't see it, can't understand why it is there, can't see a way out.
In my case, I was brutally forced by the people I grew up with to not express my doubts, to deal with these issues in an open and rational manner. So the battle has become internalized and gone underground. I was called "crazy" for saying "I want to go home." "I want my parents." "You are not my Mother and Father." This battle is so old, so longstanding, I don't even notice it anymore. I don't remember when it started. I didn't even know until recently the shape of this argument. All of these questions didn't disappear because of the training achieved through brutal physical abuse every time I voiced a question. These questions and the attendant fight went underground, went inside of me. This battle and the attendant effects of battle are all occurring within me. It has taken many years to re-access the original questions. To give myself a voice.
I think the beginning of the healing process is marked with painful questions. Certainly I have struggled and suffered as I have tried to understand myself, to be well, to achieve peace. I have yet to accomplish these things. I guess what lies ahead is trying to spend time experiencing the battle and want in their original shape. Until recently, my opinions and daily wants have transformed the original issues. It will take time to accept the original issues and to also accept the fact of their existence and integralness to my personal history.
Saturday, July 19, 2008
How do you find Mister Greene Grasshopper's Cane?
- A Short Story
One day Mister Ostara Bunny Rabbit decided to go for awalk in the country bordering his cosy little home inthe ground. He peered out his front bay window, a small almost invisible projection from the amorphous mound which was his home. The weather seemed to be quite amenable to such an activity. He popped his little head out his front door to double check with his whiskers. Yes indeed… the weather was perfect.
He hurried back inside to change out of his lounging suit and into more appropriate attire: trousers, shirt, jacket, hat and sunglasses. Suitably dressed for the day Mister Ostara Bunny Rabbit hopped out of his home and bounced merrily outside enjoying the sun, wind, and the beautiful earth. Now Mister Ostara Bunny Rabbit was quite a silly little rabbit who thought he was the height of sagaciousness. As he was bouncing along, he came along a grasshopper. He stopped to look inquisitivelyat this hail fellow well met on his jaunt. He doffed his hat in greeting and said “Hello LittleGrasshopper! How are you doing today? Is there some advice you are seeking to live a more fruitful life?”
Now Mister Greene Grasshopper was taken aback by this question but knowing Mister Ostara Bunny Rabbit’s proclivity for asking outrageous questions he was soon able to gather himself and respond suitably: “No! Nothing of the sort ails me today! But IF and when it does I will certainly search you out to get some advice.” He decided to overlook Mister Ostara Bunny Rabbit fondly addressing him as "Little Grasshopper". Usually he really took exception to being called"little" Grasshopper. He certainly didn't think of himself as being little and the truth of his puny size had been a matter of secret lifelong concern for him. But in Mister Ostara Bunny Rabbit's presence all such concerns lost their power; moreover, he knew it was pointless to insist on details that would be lost onMister Ostara Bunny Rabbit or even attempt to be on formal terms with someone so silly and friendly and desirous of being helpful. But he did have a question of his own which had nothing to do with philosophy.
“Bunny Rabbit have you seen my cane? It really is quite unbelievable! I misplaced my beloved cane! Alas, woe is my unfortunate state bereft of my cane.” Mister Ostara Bunny Rabbit wrinkled his nose as he thought. This seemed to him one of THOSE occasions –occasions requiring his full thoughtful participation. He asked very quietly and carefully: “Where did you last see your cane Little Grasshopper?” “That isprecisely the problem!!!,” wailed Mister Green Grasshopper, “I can’t seem to remember!!!!” This looked like a tailor-made situation requiring the sagacious services of our ever ready Mister Ostara Bunny Rabbit. And so without further wasting time Mister Ostara Bunny Rabbit started warming to the problem as someone might to a pot of hot soup on a cold snowy evening. “Don’t worry Little Grasshopper. I’m here to help you through this difficult time. Let’s go back to my home and think about this problem over a cup of mint tisane.” “Why thank you Bunny Rabbit. I think I will take you up on your offer. I am feeling a bit parched and a cup of mint tisane with a friend would be just the thing to lift my mood.” So the two friends set off for Mister Ostara Bunny Rabbit’s home.
As they were making their somber way, each lost in thought over the predicament of the cane, a butterfly happened to flit across Mister OstaraBunny Rabbit’s nose. This immediately required a response from our hero so he promptly darted off afterMistress Buttercup Butterfly. Mistress Buttercup Butterfly was a playful sort filled to the brim with high spirits and couldn’t be bothered with mundane matters most of the time. All she cared about was playing all the livelong day and she was in need of a playmate as her last playmate had to get back to work. Of all the creatures in Happy Valley, Mister OstaraBunny Rabbit was her favorite playmate (although hedid not know it) – most especially because his dear face was always so serious as he came bouncing along after her. His earnest little face as he tried to catch up to converse with her filled her with so much delight and made her laugh so hard that she sometimes found herself almost being caught by him. At such times she would have to exert herself especially hard to escape his furry little paw. Poor little Mister Greene Grasshopper, he could do nothing but follow along in the merry chase until it was over. And over finally did happen. As all three sat together huffing and puffing and gathering themselves after their rousing, heart thumping scamper around the meadow, the issue of the missing cane came up again. Now although Mistress Buttercup Butterfly was not the sort to be troubled by lost things, the suffering of her fellow playmate was not lost on her. She promptly decided to assist in the search. MisterGreene Grasshopper couldn’t help but feel rejuvenated at the prospect of yet another helper in his search and became quite optimistic. Mister Ostara Bunny Rabbit now found himself with another guest to his home for a cup of mint tisane.
The three of them setof together in the best possible spirits given the sadness of the situation with the cane missing. Upon reaching Mister Ostara Bunny Rabbit’s home, the two guests took up comfortable positions suiting each creature’s disposition in view of the kitchen so they could watch while Mister Ostara Bunny Rabbit put on a kettle of water for the tisane. He took out some honey cake for his guests and prepared other comestibles that his guests might enjoy nibbling on as they sipped their tisane. Mistress Buttercup Butterfly shortly thought of a question pertinent to the missing cane: “Mister Greene, could you please describe your missing cane for me? Since I have decided to help you locate your missing cane, it just is AB-SO-LUTE-LY essential that I know what your cane looked like.” “Why thank you for asking Mistress Buttercup. It is indeed a most pertinent question. Let me see. How can I best describe it?” And Mister Greene Grasshopper was lost in thought for a while. Mistress Buttercup waited patiently for Mister Greene Grasshopper’s response. She knew how difficult it was to describe something that became so much a part of one’s life that one didn’t even see it anymore. Soon enough, Mister Greene Grasshopper began describing his missing cane. “It was made of the stem of a cherry blossom – pru-nus-su-bhir-tel-la pen-du-la-ple-na-ro-se-a to be precise. It was skinny, spindly and brown. Most importantly, it had grown quite smooth over the years of accompanying me on my walks about the countryside.” To Mister Greene Grasshopper, the foregoing description was the summum bonum of descriptions possible of his beloved useful little cane.
To his listeners, this was the most obscure description they had ever heard. Each wondered how best to tease a more useful description for themselves. Mistress Buttercup was first as Mister Ostara Bunny Rabbit was deep in thought formulating his method to discover a fuller description. “Exactly how long was your cane,Mister Greene?” “What? How long was my cane you ask? My, I never thought of such a thing. But I supposeit was as tall as this…” as he used his hand to pointto a distance of maybe a quarter of an inch from theground beside him. “Hmmmm. I see…” said Mistress Buttercup Butterfly. Although this indeed was more information it still did not help her in getting a picture of the lost article’s physical appearance. At this vexing point for the other two Mister OstaraBunny Rabbit asked a question that startled both of his listeners. “Little Grasshopper could you tell me how a Bunny Rabbit could recognize your cane? I surmise even our little Mistress Buttercup would benefit from discovering how a Butterfly would recognize your cane.”
Now his listeners knew immediately that Mister Ostara Bunny Rabbit had switched to full philosopher mode. But lacking a better alternative they both sat silently, with MisterGreene Grasshopper thinking quickly and furiously about possibilities and questions he had hitherto never contemplated - something he was not wont to do often in his life. “Weeeelll this is a most peculiar situation. I don’t quite know how a Bunny Rabbit sees. How would a BunnyRabbit recognize a grasshopper’s cane? And for that matter, how would a Butterfly?” replied Mister Greene Grasshopper after some thought. Everyone heaved a deep sigh as they collectively sank deep into thought until slowly one by one each came forward with how they saw things. Mistress Buttercup Butterfly was first: "I always head for flowers which are beautifully colored to help myself to a delightful meal." Mister OstaraBunny Rabbit came forward next: "I too look for yummy things to eat! I love soft green leaves above ground and succulent orange carrots below ground and well....everything delicious growing in the farmer's garden and in the meadows." Finally Mister Greene Grasshopper contributed how he saw: "I too look for tasty leaves and.... and....and tasty morsels to eat."
At this point, Mistress Buttercup Butterfly piped in urgently "But sometimes I have to watch out for things that are dangerous - things that will eat me." Mister Ostara Bunny Rabbit couldn't help but shake his head sagaciously as Mister Greene Grasshopper chirped excitedly in agreement. Mister Ostara Bunny Rabbit at this point made an entry into the conversation by way of pointing out: "It looks like our eyes function to direct us to things that are good while also directing us away from things that are bad." Mister Greene Grasshopper couldn't help but say "How true! How true! How true!" while Mistress Buttercup Butterfly nodded her head pertly up and down, up and down. Mister Ostara Bunny Rabbit continued: "Well it looks like then Mister GreeneGrasshopper's cane should be easy to find. We just have to look for something good that belongs to Mister Greene Grasshopper." All of a sudden everyone gave a great shout of glee and happiness as understanding dawned on them and the possibility of recovering the lost cane came in sight. Of course, they just have to look for Mister Greene Grasshopper's favorite, beloved cane. This breakthrough helped them get a lock on the cane. They would just have to, all three of them, put out feelers to detect the missing piece of Mister Greene Grasshopper - namely his cane. Because the cane had been so long a part of Mister GreeneGrasshopper, they would just have to look for a lost piece of Mister Greene Grasshopper which needed to be reunited with Mister Greene Grasshopper himself. The cane was so imbued with Mister Greene Grasshopper after so many years of faithful service it would be easy to find.
So after the little repast was finished all three separated to look for the cane. And truly enough, they succeeded in finding Mister GreeneGrasshopper's cane. Mistress Buttercup Butterfly located the cane at the bottom of a birch tree and brought the other two to it. It came to light that Mister Greene Grasshopper had helped himself to a nap here yesterday afternoon. Mister Greene Grasshopper was overjoyed at finding his cane again and thanked the two most deeply and graciously for their help. "Thank you very very much Mistress Buttercup Butterfly. Thank you very very much Mister Ostara Bunny Rabbit. I would be most happy if the two of you could join me for supper at my home. Please do say yes." And of course his invitation was met with utmost eagerness and so the troop made their way to Mister Greene Grasshopper's home where they enjoyed themselves merrily for the rest of the evening until it was time for Mistress Buttercup Butterfly and Mister Ostara Bunny Rabbit to return home to go to sleep.
One day Mister Ostara Bunny Rabbit decided to go for awalk in the country bordering his cosy little home inthe ground. He peered out his front bay window, a small almost invisible projection from the amorphous mound which was his home. The weather seemed to be quite amenable to such an activity. He popped his little head out his front door to double check with his whiskers. Yes indeed… the weather was perfect.
He hurried back inside to change out of his lounging suit and into more appropriate attire: trousers, shirt, jacket, hat and sunglasses. Suitably dressed for the day Mister Ostara Bunny Rabbit hopped out of his home and bounced merrily outside enjoying the sun, wind, and the beautiful earth. Now Mister Ostara Bunny Rabbit was quite a silly little rabbit who thought he was the height of sagaciousness. As he was bouncing along, he came along a grasshopper. He stopped to look inquisitivelyat this hail fellow well met on his jaunt. He doffed his hat in greeting and said “Hello LittleGrasshopper! How are you doing today? Is there some advice you are seeking to live a more fruitful life?”
Now Mister Greene Grasshopper was taken aback by this question but knowing Mister Ostara Bunny Rabbit’s proclivity for asking outrageous questions he was soon able to gather himself and respond suitably: “No! Nothing of the sort ails me today! But IF and when it does I will certainly search you out to get some advice.” He decided to overlook Mister Ostara Bunny Rabbit fondly addressing him as "Little Grasshopper". Usually he really took exception to being called"little" Grasshopper. He certainly didn't think of himself as being little and the truth of his puny size had been a matter of secret lifelong concern for him. But in Mister Ostara Bunny Rabbit's presence all such concerns lost their power; moreover, he knew it was pointless to insist on details that would be lost onMister Ostara Bunny Rabbit or even attempt to be on formal terms with someone so silly and friendly and desirous of being helpful. But he did have a question of his own which had nothing to do with philosophy.
“Bunny Rabbit have you seen my cane? It really is quite unbelievable! I misplaced my beloved cane! Alas, woe is my unfortunate state bereft of my cane.” Mister Ostara Bunny Rabbit wrinkled his nose as he thought. This seemed to him one of THOSE occasions –occasions requiring his full thoughtful participation. He asked very quietly and carefully: “Where did you last see your cane Little Grasshopper?” “That isprecisely the problem!!!,” wailed Mister Green Grasshopper, “I can’t seem to remember!!!!” This looked like a tailor-made situation requiring the sagacious services of our ever ready Mister Ostara Bunny Rabbit. And so without further wasting time Mister Ostara Bunny Rabbit started warming to the problem as someone might to a pot of hot soup on a cold snowy evening. “Don’t worry Little Grasshopper. I’m here to help you through this difficult time. Let’s go back to my home and think about this problem over a cup of mint tisane.” “Why thank you Bunny Rabbit. I think I will take you up on your offer. I am feeling a bit parched and a cup of mint tisane with a friend would be just the thing to lift my mood.” So the two friends set off for Mister Ostara Bunny Rabbit’s home.
As they were making their somber way, each lost in thought over the predicament of the cane, a butterfly happened to flit across Mister OstaraBunny Rabbit’s nose. This immediately required a response from our hero so he promptly darted off afterMistress Buttercup Butterfly. Mistress Buttercup Butterfly was a playful sort filled to the brim with high spirits and couldn’t be bothered with mundane matters most of the time. All she cared about was playing all the livelong day and she was in need of a playmate as her last playmate had to get back to work. Of all the creatures in Happy Valley, Mister OstaraBunny Rabbit was her favorite playmate (although hedid not know it) – most especially because his dear face was always so serious as he came bouncing along after her. His earnest little face as he tried to catch up to converse with her filled her with so much delight and made her laugh so hard that she sometimes found herself almost being caught by him. At such times she would have to exert herself especially hard to escape his furry little paw. Poor little Mister Greene Grasshopper, he could do nothing but follow along in the merry chase until it was over. And over finally did happen. As all three sat together huffing and puffing and gathering themselves after their rousing, heart thumping scamper around the meadow, the issue of the missing cane came up again. Now although Mistress Buttercup Butterfly was not the sort to be troubled by lost things, the suffering of her fellow playmate was not lost on her. She promptly decided to assist in the search. MisterGreene Grasshopper couldn’t help but feel rejuvenated at the prospect of yet another helper in his search and became quite optimistic. Mister Ostara Bunny Rabbit now found himself with another guest to his home for a cup of mint tisane.
The three of them setof together in the best possible spirits given the sadness of the situation with the cane missing. Upon reaching Mister Ostara Bunny Rabbit’s home, the two guests took up comfortable positions suiting each creature’s disposition in view of the kitchen so they could watch while Mister Ostara Bunny Rabbit put on a kettle of water for the tisane. He took out some honey cake for his guests and prepared other comestibles that his guests might enjoy nibbling on as they sipped their tisane. Mistress Buttercup Butterfly shortly thought of a question pertinent to the missing cane: “Mister Greene, could you please describe your missing cane for me? Since I have decided to help you locate your missing cane, it just is AB-SO-LUTE-LY essential that I know what your cane looked like.” “Why thank you for asking Mistress Buttercup. It is indeed a most pertinent question. Let me see. How can I best describe it?” And Mister Greene Grasshopper was lost in thought for a while. Mistress Buttercup waited patiently for Mister Greene Grasshopper’s response. She knew how difficult it was to describe something that became so much a part of one’s life that one didn’t even see it anymore. Soon enough, Mister Greene Grasshopper began describing his missing cane. “It was made of the stem of a cherry blossom – pru-nus-su-bhir-tel-la pen-du-la-ple-na-ro-se-a to be precise. It was skinny, spindly and brown. Most importantly, it had grown quite smooth over the years of accompanying me on my walks about the countryside.” To Mister Greene Grasshopper, the foregoing description was the summum bonum of descriptions possible of his beloved useful little cane.
To his listeners, this was the most obscure description they had ever heard. Each wondered how best to tease a more useful description for themselves. Mistress Buttercup was first as Mister Ostara Bunny Rabbit was deep in thought formulating his method to discover a fuller description. “Exactly how long was your cane,Mister Greene?” “What? How long was my cane you ask? My, I never thought of such a thing. But I supposeit was as tall as this…” as he used his hand to pointto a distance of maybe a quarter of an inch from theground beside him. “Hmmmm. I see…” said Mistress Buttercup Butterfly. Although this indeed was more information it still did not help her in getting a picture of the lost article’s physical appearance. At this vexing point for the other two Mister OstaraBunny Rabbit asked a question that startled both of his listeners. “Little Grasshopper could you tell me how a Bunny Rabbit could recognize your cane? I surmise even our little Mistress Buttercup would benefit from discovering how a Butterfly would recognize your cane.”
Now his listeners knew immediately that Mister Ostara Bunny Rabbit had switched to full philosopher mode. But lacking a better alternative they both sat silently, with MisterGreene Grasshopper thinking quickly and furiously about possibilities and questions he had hitherto never contemplated - something he was not wont to do often in his life. “Weeeelll this is a most peculiar situation. I don’t quite know how a Bunny Rabbit sees. How would a BunnyRabbit recognize a grasshopper’s cane? And for that matter, how would a Butterfly?” replied Mister Greene Grasshopper after some thought. Everyone heaved a deep sigh as they collectively sank deep into thought until slowly one by one each came forward with how they saw things. Mistress Buttercup Butterfly was first: "I always head for flowers which are beautifully colored to help myself to a delightful meal." Mister OstaraBunny Rabbit came forward next: "I too look for yummy things to eat! I love soft green leaves above ground and succulent orange carrots below ground and well....everything delicious growing in the farmer's garden and in the meadows." Finally Mister Greene Grasshopper contributed how he saw: "I too look for tasty leaves and.... and....and tasty morsels to eat."
At this point, Mistress Buttercup Butterfly piped in urgently "But sometimes I have to watch out for things that are dangerous - things that will eat me." Mister Ostara Bunny Rabbit couldn't help but shake his head sagaciously as Mister Greene Grasshopper chirped excitedly in agreement. Mister Ostara Bunny Rabbit at this point made an entry into the conversation by way of pointing out: "It looks like our eyes function to direct us to things that are good while also directing us away from things that are bad." Mister Greene Grasshopper couldn't help but say "How true! How true! How true!" while Mistress Buttercup Butterfly nodded her head pertly up and down, up and down. Mister Ostara Bunny Rabbit continued: "Well it looks like then Mister GreeneGrasshopper's cane should be easy to find. We just have to look for something good that belongs to Mister Greene Grasshopper." All of a sudden everyone gave a great shout of glee and happiness as understanding dawned on them and the possibility of recovering the lost cane came in sight. Of course, they just have to look for Mister Greene Grasshopper's favorite, beloved cane. This breakthrough helped them get a lock on the cane. They would just have to, all three of them, put out feelers to detect the missing piece of Mister Greene Grasshopper - namely his cane. Because the cane had been so long a part of Mister GreeneGrasshopper, they would just have to look for a lost piece of Mister Greene Grasshopper which needed to be reunited with Mister Greene Grasshopper himself. The cane was so imbued with Mister Greene Grasshopper after so many years of faithful service it would be easy to find.
So after the little repast was finished all three separated to look for the cane. And truly enough, they succeeded in finding Mister GreeneGrasshopper's cane. Mistress Buttercup Butterfly located the cane at the bottom of a birch tree and brought the other two to it. It came to light that Mister Greene Grasshopper had helped himself to a nap here yesterday afternoon. Mister Greene Grasshopper was overjoyed at finding his cane again and thanked the two most deeply and graciously for their help. "Thank you very very much Mistress Buttercup Butterfly. Thank you very very much Mister Ostara Bunny Rabbit. I would be most happy if the two of you could join me for supper at my home. Please do say yes." And of course his invitation was met with utmost eagerness and so the troop made their way to Mister Greene Grasshopper's home where they enjoyed themselves merrily for the rest of the evening until it was time for Mistress Buttercup Butterfly and Mister Ostara Bunny Rabbit to return home to go to sleep.
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