A friend recently experienced a difficult medical diagnosis. The medical system corrected the immediate problem, but the whole thing was a shock. And there is reason for concern about the road ahead. Like so many medical conditions, there is some amount of slowing the process and responding to acute issues, but there’s no reversing things.
The most upsetting and challenging part for her has been when her mind starts anticipating a darker future. Will she get to see her children grow fully into adulthood? Will she outlive her father who died from the same condition?
In these difficult moments, it seems natural to be upset and wish the hard thing had never happened. Practices of mindfulness and compassion can help us be with the hard feelings, as Catherine described so well last month.
Our practice gives us tools for these tough times, and offers us the possibility of a deeper lesson, too.
As we all have a terminal condition, don’t we? We know what birth always leads to in the end. There is a powerful way of talking about this in Buddhism that has always stuck with me: “Death is certain. Only the time of death is uncertain.”
Death can be tricky to face, but maybe even tougher is the uncertainty. The uncertainty about everything.
We want our lives and our world to be predictable and stable. We want to know what to expect. We don’t like surprises and assume that most of them will be bad news. We find the actual uncertainty of everything challenging. Or, at least we do when we are in the mindset that thinks things should be predictable and orderly. And yet uncertainty is how life actually is.
Practice helps. In addition to offering ourselves grace when we feel fear, worry, and overwhelm, we can train our minds in being more able to just be with what is now. To see uncertainty as normal. Not to add fear and worry. This possibility of a radical kind of acceptance of what comes our way is also part of the possibility of being human.
There are times to plan and ponder the future, but so often our future thoughts are dark and debilitating. Future thinking that isn’t deliberate can so easily become catastrophizing.
And so we keep training our minds. We keep practicing. We keep working with our mind’s tendencies. We start to climb out of the old “grooves” in our heart and find new pathways. The actual results of this longer, deeper path may be hard to spot! It’s hard to notice the absence of reactivity or that we haven’t been worrying as much about the future. Difficult news is still difficult news, but how do we meet it? A deep change is possible.
You might argue with me: “Well, easy enough when you’re thinking about something someone else is going through, Tim. We’ll see how you do when you receive serious bad news.” Fair enough. I’m curious too. In the meantime, I’ll just keep on training this mixed up heart and mind of mine as best I can.
All this makes me think of this little, somewhat irreverent, poem from Mary Oliver:
I Worried
I worried a lot. Will the garden grow, will the rivers
flow in the right direction, will the earth turn
as it was taught, and if not how shall I correct it?
Was I right, was I wrong, will I be forgiven,
can I do better?
Will I ever be able to sing, even the sparrows
can do it and I am, well,
hopeless.
Is my eyesight fading or am I just imagining it,
am I going to get rheumatism,
lockjaw, dementia?
Finally I saw that worrying had come to nothing.
And gave it up. And took my old body
and went out into the morning,
and sang.