Moving Out of Struggle into Inclusion and Compassion

The core intent of the skills we have been cultivating is to awaken our hearts. It is the place of true healing because it can see, allow and include all of the many parts of ourselves and the many experiences of our lives. The heart is the “chef of life” that knows it is only when we include the sweet and the bitter, the pungent and the sharp, the succulent and the dry that we can move into something greater.

To illustrate how this works, a while ago I got a visit from the latest crud. It settled in my throat and sounded like a bevy of frogs had moved in. The worst part of it was the nighttime coughing. Whenever I would finally drop off to sleep, a coughing fit would awaken me. I finally broke down and took some cold medicine, only to wake up feeling even worse. “This is it. I’ve had it. This is too much,” I chanted. It took all of my discipline to begin to pay attention to what was really going on. I just wanted to read, eat, sleep—anything but be with the discomfort.

Instead, I decided to meditate. At the beginning of the meditation, it was like being in a dust bowl during a hurricane. But I know from experience that when the mind is wildly whipping around, it’s because there is a feeling it doesn’t want to experience. Slowly, I caught the rhythm of my breath and curiosity kicked in. “What am I feeling?” I first noticed the physical sensations—the sore and congested throat, upset intestines, and a feeling like a truck had hit me.

As I named and acknowledged each one, I began to become aware of something under them. It was foggy at first, but slowly I was able to recognize and name despair. “I want to give up,” it said. “I can’t take anymore. I’ll never feel well again.” I stayed with it for a while, but this is never done with great precision. It’s like the sun dancing in and out of the clouds. It would become very clear, and then my mind would wander off into some story about despair. When I brought it back, it would take a few moments to focus again on the feeling.

It felt, however, like I hadn’t quite met what was really there, so I asked my body, “What do you want to show me?” Almost immediately, what began to reveal itself was blame. It was the ancient self-hatred that believes when something is painful, I am to blame. I was able to approach it in curiosity, and in that moment of meeting, something very deep inside of me let go. What came bubbling up from the depths of my being was the statement, “Let kindness be your response to pain.” My whole being began to soften and glow. In that moment, I had moved out of struggle into inclusion and compassion.

I then took a walk. One of the great fears in these heavy states is that they will be here forever. Before the meditation, my mind had already claimed that this was going to be a rotten day. Instead, my walk became a time of wonder and mystery. Everywhere I looked, I saw the sacred, creative forces of life spiraling out of the void and manifesting as trees, dogs, people (including myself), houses and grass. When I was caught in struggle, I was lost in separation. Simply by meeting the darkness that was present, I was moved into an experience of connection and interconnection. Did it fade later? Yes. Was there some grief and struggle associated with this? Yes. But learning to trust the rhythm of life is a step-by-step process.