Adventitious: Finishing Up

In my last entry, I elaborated on more of the unfamiliar experiences resulting from my Buddhist practice; particularly those relating to a Buddha called Tara.

There was one more; so incredible I am not even sure what to call it, let alone how to describe it. Plus, I’m reluctant to go into it, because I don’t want to create a false impression. I don’t want people to think this is all about altered states and peak experiences, because actually it isn’t. It is easy to make this mistake, but mostly life consists of the day-to-day slogging that all of us do, facing and/or struggling with the host of obstacles or conditions we encounter. Getting caught up in bliss can be just as big an impediment to clear seeing and thinking as drowning in suffering.

Besides, I think that others have already described these sorts of states thoroughly. If you are really interested in this topic, I suggest you obtain the audio book by Jack Kornfield, entitled, After the Ecstasy, the Laundry. Here he draws from the experiences of many different people, and not just Buddhists, but also Christians, Muslims, Jews and Hindus. In fact, he argues that such experiences and states are common. I would highly recommend this book for those who would like to explore this subject further.

As far as my own insight is concerned, the most important thing is not that, but what I have been up to since that great opening to everything as it is occurred. For, quite soon after, I suddenly decided that I really needed to re-establish a regular daily meditation practice.

I opted for something relatively easy. The last time, as I discussed when I talked about my attempt to follow part of the method recommended by Jon Kabat-Zinn, the results had not been too good. I guessed that perhaps this had to do with the fact that I had pushed too hard, especially, that I had kept increasing the amount of time spent in meditation. The other thing was that I lacked the frame of reference.

It is obvious from the results that I have described that there is something more I needed. We all get this in different ways, but at the time I am writing this, this seems to be my way.

Next I will turn to my journaling on my daily practice, including resources consulted, insights, twists and turns, setbacks, and so on. Some of it may not make much sense, but I will put it up anyway for those who may benefit from it, or at least enjoy it or be entertained by it. It won’t all be serious either; so, keep your sense of humour handy. I know I will.

Advent: Ignition

In my last post, I wrote about how my Tara practice led to an experience of disappearance. This was merely the first in a series of peculiar events that occurred during one week of particularly intense Fibromyalgia pain.

The next day, I was again reduced to lying in bed moaning and groaning, but once again I was able to let go by focusing on Tara. This time, I was overcome by an intense feeling of bliss. All of my pain disappeared for a time. It was actually a bit scary because it seemed to come from nowhere. I concentrated on my breath, however, and then this cascading joy swept over me, practically lifting me off the bed. Alas, when it ended the pain returned.

During the next incident I was cooking supper. Suddenly a bright light seemed to emerge from deep inside of me, engulfing me. ‘It’s too bright! It’s too bright!’ I thought. I had to stop what I was doing and grab on to something. The light intensified, growing brighter and brighter, then exploding outward like some kind of supernova blast. I was enveloped in light and all-encompassing joy. (Interestingly, Tara is often associated with light; light and related imagery appear frequently in the 21 praises of Tara to which I alluded earlier.)

After that I was able to return to my task, had supper, and went to work. The feeling of joy persisted, however, and on my way home, I felt as if I could see the same light in everyone I saw on the street.

This all seemed amazing, incredible at the time, though I later learned that such experiences are quite common for many people who employ the sorts of practices in which I had been engaged. It turned out not to be anything special really, but it certainly felt unique back then.

Naturally, I wanted more information and kept looking for it. One place I found it was in a series of CDs called, Out of Your Mind, and other assorted talks by Alan Watts. He had an amazing way of explaining Buddhism, particularly Zen, which was so simple and yet so profound. It wasn’t until some years later that I discovered his little trick, which I am not going to reveal here; it’s much more fun for you to find out on your own. His material is all over the web; so, you should not have trouble finding it. A simple search is all it takes.

Next time, I will attempt to finish up the “My Quest” series, as I am itching to get on to writing about my current practice.

Ado: Rumours of My Disappearance

Last time, I wrote about how, in the middle of a particularly vicious Fibromyalgia attack, I fell to reflecting upon Tara Buddha’s predicament, that of being a Buddha to whom devotees continually cry out for rescue from the round of suffering of this world.

So, here I was cringing in agony, feeling sorry for this being, supposedly residing in perpetual bliss in Nirvana, and yet constantly bombarded by cries for help.

Quelle bizarre, no?

Well, I thought so anyway.

In keeping with my feelings of uselessness, I decided that the best response was for me to give her all of my merit and everything else I possessed, so that she could transform this into, . . . whatever it is that she has to transform it in to facilitate the release from suffering of everybody requesting it.

Then, as I said, everything seemed to disappear, including me, except that there seemed to be something left over, which wasn’t something, nor was it nothing. Even afterwards, I couldn’t describe whatever the not something not nothing was, or what it wasn’t. All sense of the passage of time completely disappeared as well, so that this whatever could have gone on for days for all I knew while I was in it, and as for who was left to know anything at all, I could not say.

In addition, there was also this disembodied voice (presumably mine), which said “What is this? Is it bliss? No. Is it sadness? No,” and so on.

Then there was also this kind of greyness in the whatever, which reminded me of a ripple in a pond, when a fish comes close to the surface and stirs the water slightly. Later, I formed the impression that this was where “me” went, as if I had somehow been flushed down the drain or something.

After an interval, which as I had looked at my watch shortly before this incident, I guessed to be at least twenty minutes, everything came back, including the pain, which had disappeared along with everything else.

What to make of this? I had not idea, but as it turned out this was just the movie trailer. The weirdest was yet to come.

Next time: riding the rocket.

Adjournment: the Mysteries of Tara

Last time, I wrote about some of the information I found on Tara Buddha, and my reactions to it. This time I will briefly discuss some of the practices associated with her.

There are a number of practices associated with Tara. Using her name as a mantra is probably the simplest one, and I have found this beneficial for getting me through pain, anxiety, insomnia, and all sorts of stress. There are also various mantras, the most general of which is, “Om Tara tu tareh tureh soha.” I’ve seen several different versions of the pronunciations, and I am not even sure if mine is quite right. Nevertheless, I find that if I recite it in the way I have written, it gives me a great sense of energy, which can come in handy when I am having trouble with the fatigue resulting from the pain and poor sleep caused by my Fibromyaligia.

Then there is also the 21 praises of Tara, various versions of which are easily found all over the Internet. I have been working on one of my own for quite some time, by combining different versions to make one that I like. The idea is that you recite them out loud. Again, I find this energizing and absorbing.

This being said, I was still not ready for the onslaught of health problems and pain that struck next. I’m not sure what it was about. I know that I was very busy working on a master’s degree, going to work, and later discovered that I had also been suffering from iron deficient anemia. By the Christmas break, I was exhausted and I was hit by what felt like a wall of pain that just would not let up.

I had to work a lot over Christmas, but when I wasn’t there, I spent a lot of my time lying flat on my back in agony, thinking about Tara. At one point I just kept saying her name over and over and over. Then I began to reflect on what a burden it would be to have to sit in meditation all day, having everybody talking at me, clamouring for liberation.

In Buddhism, there is the idea of accumulating merit or good Karma (as well as bad Karma), and in Tibetan practice the idea that you can actually share your good Karma with others. Reflecting on Tara’s situation, I thought, ‘whatever merit I may have, the way I see it, you need it more than I do, Tara; so, why don’t you just take it? In fact, why don’t you just take everything!’

And, with that (I don’t know how else to say this), at that very moment, everything disappeared, including me!!! (blinks)

Next time: where did everything go? Or, who turned out the lights?

Adept: The Irrepressible Tara

In my last post, I wrote about some of the benefits of the loving-kindness meditation practice demonstrated by Jack Kornfield, in Beginner’s Guide to Buddhism, and my inexplicable reaction to reading about a certain Buddha named Tara. To reiterate, “I’ve found you at last!” I exclaimed. “Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you everywhere!!!”

In Tibetan Buddhism Tara represents many virtues, compassionate wisdom being chief among them. She has many faces or aspects, but most importantly in my case, she is associated with healing. As Wikipedia puts it, “she expresses maternal compassion and offers healing to beings who are hurt or wounded, either physically or psychically.” There are mantras associated with her, but it is said in Tibetan folklore that simply calling her name is enough to invoke her powers.

Is she considered real? Yes and no. My impression is that she is a symbolic representation of various elements of the feminine aspect in all of us. Coincidentally perhaps, as I understand it, in traditional Chinese medicine it is an imbalance between masculine and feminine forces that causes ill health.

‘Could this be what I was lacking?’ I wondered.

Or, maybe it was the legend that impressed me so much. For, one version of the story goes that once upon a time, “millions of years in the past,” there was a princess named “Yeshe Dawa,” who became a very advanced student of Buddhism, under the Buddha of that particular era. Some, undoubtedly ignorant male monks then made the foolish mistake of suggesting to her that if she really wanted to make progress, she ought to come back in her next life as a man. (Oops!) Her reaction was along the lines of, “excuse me, there’s something wrong with being female!? Hmm? And just to show you how dumb you are, not only am I not going to do that, but I am going to achieve Buddhahood as a woman. So there!!!” (What a woman!)

And, you guessed it, she did exactly that! She then sat down in “meditation for some ten million years,” which resulted in the liberation of “tens of millions of beings.”

Is that cool, or what! LOL I certainly thought so. On my good days, she is like a spirit friend, on my not so good days she is like a guru (spiritual guide), and on my really bad days, she’s like a Mother. You know those days, when you feel like screaming, “MOMMY!!!” That’s how I feel about her.

Next time: more about Tara and practices associated with her.

Actuation: I am Inspired

Last time, I wrote about the mixed results I obtained when I attempted to apply the instructions supplied for loving-kindness meditation by Jack Kornfield, in his audio book, Beginner’s Guide to Buddhism. It helped to some extent with my anxiety but paradoxically the resulting muscle relaxation actually increased my awareness of the pain caused by my Fibromyaligia.

One thing I learned from this, however, is that it is possible to change one’s attitude towards others and the world in general. By this I mean that contrary to what I had formerly believed—that what you feel is what you feel—you can cultivate certain feelings and attitudes, especially compassion towards yourself and others. This is certainly better than judging everything all the time, which many of us tend to do, and I did experience an overall increase in well being, at least on the days when the pain lessened.

Interestingly, this practice is recommended as an antidote to ill will (excessive anger, resentment, hatred and bitterness), and I would certainly concur that if you experience ill will (which many people who have a lot of pain or other kinds of distress do) this practice may help you. Not that you should let people put you down, but practicing compassion may help you to see the other fellow/gal’s point of view, which may help you resolve your conflicts in a more effective and mutually beneficial way.

Encouraged by my, albeit limited, success, I therefore kept looking for other practices that could help, as I still needed something, and these sorts of practices did at least appear promising. I was not, however, prepared for what happened next.

Thinking back upon what I had studied so far, I had always meant to look for information on Tara, the Buddha of compassionate wisdom. M. D. Eckel mentioned her in his lecture series on Buddhism (which I cited earlier), and I had been curious about her then, since, so far, I had encountered almost no mention of women’s role in Buddhism. There seemed to be lots of male Buddhas and famous male teachers/masters, etc., but almost no female ones.

When I looked up Tara on the Internet, however, my own reaction astonished me.

“I’ve found you at last!” I exclaimed. “Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you everywhere!!!”

WHAT was this about and WHERE did it come from? Even I did not know.

Next time: out of my mind?

Actuality: Almost, but not quite

Previously, I presented an abbreviated version of the instructions provided by Jack Kornfield, in his audio book, Beginner’s Guide to Buddhism (Louisville, USA: Sounds True 2002), on loving-kindness meditation, which I attempted as part of my search for a method to ease the suffering of my Fibromyalgia.

When I tried this meditation, I found that, like a good book, I was unable to put it down. I went to bed that night feeling very good indeed. I had modified it to wish myself well, literally, having really bought into the idea that this could make a difference to my health.

When I woke up the next morning, however, I felt absolutely rotten, and was correspondingly furious. All I had accomplished was to make myself feel even worse, as the meditation simply made me aware of how awful I felt by making me feel better for a short time. It hadn’t really helped at all. There was no way that wishful thinking was going to make a difference, or so I concluded. ‘What a waste of time!’ I complained, and proceeded to move on to other things.

I then listened to a variety of other materials, some interesting, some less, so, but found nothing in them other than temporary diversions, or something to do when I felt too ill to move. Nevertheless, other audio books I would recommend by Jack Kornfield include, Your Buddha Nature (Louisville, USA: Sounds True 2000, containing several interesting and/or enjoyable meditations), Roots of Buddhist Psychology (Ibid, 1996), and Path with a Heart (Ibid, 2006, an autobiographical account of Kornfield’s experiences as a monk, and the aftermath of his return from this 10 year period of intensive practice abroad).

Paradoxically, though I can’t remember why, I drifted back to loving-kindness meditation again, and this time, perhaps due to the adoption of more realistic expectations, actually found that it did do me some good, at least psychologically. But how you feel about your circumstances is just as important as your circumstances; so, I suppose this makes some sense.

I continued on with this every day for about six months and found that it certainly made me a little calmer, a very important result, given that pain generates anxiety, which in turn increases pain. Hence, anything that reduces anxiety tends to reduce pain. But then, I encountered the unfortunate truth that muscle tension also masks pain, and found that over time my pain was worsened due to this phenomenon. Sheesh! Sometimes you just can’t win!!!

Next time: if you don’t like being weirded out, stop reading now. Otherwise, fasten your safety straps and prepare yourself for a mind-warping ride!

Activity: Loving-kindness Meditation

Last time, I wrote on my impression of Jack Kornfield’s introduction to the practice of loving-kindness meditation, in his audio book (Beginner’s guide to Buddhism, Louisville, USA: Sounds True 2002), which I hoped might provide a method for me to obtain some kind of relief from the chronic pain of the Fibroymalgia from which I suffer. What follows is a partial transcription of the guided meditation on this practice.

“. . . be aware that every being is given a certain measure of sorrows in this life and . . . wish that their sorrows and struggles be held with the tenderness of compassion.”

Kornfield then instructs his listeners to sit comfortably, close their eyes, focus on the breath in the area of the heart, breathing in and out of that area. Then the practice starts with an exercise in forgiveness.

“The first direction of forgiveness” is asking for it. “There are many ways in which I have hurt or harmed others knowingly and unknowingly. I remember these now. Let yourself feel and remember the sorrows you carry from having brought harm to other beings. In the ways that I have harmed them out of my own confusion, fear, out of my pain and ignorance, in this moment, I ask their forgiveness. May I be forgiven, may I be forgiven.”

The process is then repeated towards oneself and towards others who have harmed one, with the caveat on the last one to forgive others “to the extent that I am ready,” acknowledging that forgiveness to others may take some time.

The next part involves well wishing directed towards our selves, then loved ones/benefactors, followed by neutral persons (those we see regularly but don’t know), “difficult people,” and finally everyone.

Examples of suggested phrases include, “may I/you be filled with loving-kindness, be safe from inner and outer dangers, be well, be peaceful and truly happy.”

He closes with, “may we live with the great heart of loving-kindness. May we carry the spirit of compassion from this meditation into our thoughts and our deeds. May it be so.”

Kornfield then suggests, “take these practices and work with them in your own way, with your own phrases.”

Next time: where this took me.

Action: Something New

Last time, I wrote about Jack Kornfield’s summary of the major traditions of Buddhism, his version of the practice of mindfulness meditation (Beginner’s guide to Buddhism, Louisville, USA: Sounds True 2002), and how none of this seemed to give me the answer I was seeking of how to get through the day without screaming due to the fiery furnace of pain in which I was immersed on account of the condition known as Fibromyaligia.

Kornfield then introduced another kind of meditation, however, called “loving-kindness meditation,” also known as “metta” in the Pali language (the language of the Buddhist scriptures upon which the Theravada version of Buddhism is largely based).

He began with, “[the] practice of mindful attention and mindful freedom is balanced with the practice of loving compassion,” and went on to assert, “it is possible to reawaken and strengthen [the] innate compassion that is a part of every human heart.”

Okay, I was with him so far, and though I couldn’t see what good it would do me, at least it was something new to try.

But then, he added, “to do this practice brings happiness and joy,” which immediately sparked my interest.

“One traditionally begins by reflecting on the benefits of a loving heart,” he said.

“When the heart becomes full of loving kindness (said the Buddhist text), our dreams become sweet, we fall asleep more easily and waken contented. We have good health. Angels will love and protect us and men and women will love us as well. It’s said that as the heart deepens in loving kindness people will welcome us everywhere. Our thoughts become pleasant; our voice is sweeter and our children are happy in the womb and growing up; [and], dangers will not harm us. If we fall off a cliff a tree will be there to catch us, and we will bring the blessings of compassion to whatever we touch.”

If all this sounds implausible to you, just imagine how it sounded to me, but ohhhhh, if only!!! Nevertheless, I laughed, and thought, ‘yeah, right. Pull the other one!’ (rolled eyes)

On the other hand, I had nothing to lose except my agony; so . . . next time, I will take up the story again, with the details of this practice, as explained and demonstrated by Jack Kornfield.

Abridgement: The Three Traditions

Last time, I wrote about my reaction to Jack Kornfield’s discussion of the four noble truths, in his audio book, Beginner’s Guide to Buddhism, and how this still did not seem to supply a method to help me get through the day without screaming due to the ongoing suffering caused by my Fibromyaligia. Parts of the theory sounded good, though; so, I kept listening.

At the end of his description, he summarized the major Buddhist traditions, which he divided into Theravada, Mahayana (e.g., Zen and Ch’an), and Vajrayana or Tibetan. Theravada seemed to have a moralistic slant, emphasizing “strict monastic discipline, [and] purification,” but this was not what I was seeking. Here, once again too, was the identification of the causes of suffering as “grasping” and “clinging,” which puzzled me.

The point of the prescribed practices was to achieve release from “clingings,” and thereby “come to Nirvana.” If so, this was not for me. Nor was Tibetan Buddhism, “the path of devotion and prayer.” I’d already tried plenty of that; I’d prayed my butt off, in fact, to no avail. Guru worship sounded downright dangerous, and the psychic transmission of ancient wisdom simply ridiculous, nor was I ready to embrace the idea of reincarnation of accomplished masters, or anyone else for that matter!

In fact, of these three, right away I was attracted to Zen, though I had not found anything helpful on it elsewhere. For, as I noted in an earlier post, the Zen of Thich Nhat Hanh as I found it in his audio book, The Heart of Understanding (Berkeley, USA: Parallax Press, 1987), neither made sense to me, nor appealed to me. Nevertheless, the simplicity of letting go of all desires (how ever one does that!) sounded good. The complexity and ritualistic nature of the other traditions, as described by Kornfield, put me off, and I certainly wasn’t in any condition to go off and seek ordination!

Now, at last, he moved on to talking about meditation, but the first meditation was similar to what I had tried before when I had read the work of Jon Kabat-Zinn. I didn’t really feel I could benefit from it. No way could I be “with the pains” of the body or “open” to them. That was not happening!!! I could barely stand being in the same room with me, let alone opening to the intense forest fire raging constantly and deeply through my body. (Nevertheless, I’d recommend Kornfield’s guided meditation for those interested in this practice, as he does it superbly!)

What was the answer, then? I still did not know. But then he introduced something I had not heard of before, and next time I will write about where this led me.

Aboveboard: The Four Noble Confusion

Last time, I began to talk about my reaction to the audio book, Beginner’s Guide to Buddhism, by Jack Kornfield. I was very attracted by the idea that there could be a way out of the terrible suffering caused by my Fibromyalgia, but as yet was not clear how this could possibly be so, and I wasn’t so sure about Buddhism either. The four noble truths outlined by Kornfield—suffering/dissatisfaction, the causes of suffering, the cessation of suffering, and the path out of suffering—seemed straightforward enough, but the details were less so.

I thought the truth of suffering was fairly obvious, given my situation, but the causes he described were not. I really wanted to know the causes, but “grasping and clinging!?” I hadn’t expected that. He went on to say that these “[lead] to greed, hatred and delusion, which creates suffering.”

At this point he completely lost me, because I thought my pain was my problem, but then he picked it up again, with the very true and relevant fact that we always want things to be a certain way but inevitably find that they are not, and then we suffer.

When it came to the truth of the cessation of suffering—Nirvana or liberation—of course, that sounded good—though I knew nothing about it. He said this happens when we give up “the body of fear;” when we “quiet the mind and open the heart,” then we can achieve liberation. But the “how” was still missing! How do we make this happen?

He said that the path leading to the cessation of suffering is “the middle path, or the eight-fold path, . . . when we live in the reality of the present . . . [and] respond with compassion rather than react with greed, hatred or delusion.”

He listed the 8 parts of the path and briefly described them. While this was interesting it didn’t make much of an impression on me. More importantly, as far as I was concerned, was the idea that you can learn to be here and know you’re here without suffering from or getting caught up in what’s happening, but instead to respond to this present wisely and compassionately. The moral tone of some aspects of the path did not appeal to me, as I wasn’t feeling very well disposed towards anyone else, having been rejected and put down because of this invisible burden I was carrying around.

I was ready for some serious relief, but how could I get it?

Next time: Enough about theories, what about specific methods!?

About-turn: Buddha’s Story

As explained earlier, the searing pain of Fibromyalgia motivated me to seek answers. Having already exhausted the affordable medical and naturopathic options, I immersed myself in an imaginary realm of my own creation. In the process of attempting to manufacture this escape route I decided I had to create a religion for one of my characters. Searching the Internet for ideas brought me back to Buddhism. Last time, I concluded that while this expedition had revitalized my fiction, it had not improved my reality. Then, I stumbled across an audio book by Jack Kornfield called, Beginner’s Guide to Buddhism (Louisville, USA: Sounds True 2002).

In this work, Kornfield explains that he is going to describe the “essential practices and teachings offered by the Buddha,” which originated 2500 years ago. “The word Buddha means one who has awakened . . . to their true nature and sees it in all beings,” he says, adding “we too can discover this in ourselves and the teachings of Buddhism are a way to fulfill that reality.”

‘Okay, Jack, but how in the world is this going to help me?’ I silently complained to thin air.

But by this time I was so desperate and I felt so ill that I lacked the energy to get up and turn the flipping thing off, so I continued listening anyway.

Now I learned that prior to his awakening, the Buddha lived a sheltered privileged life, but one day his view of the world was shattered by his observation of the prevalence of suffering, in the form of sickness, aging, and death. At the same time, he discovered that others too were already seeking answers to the problem of how to respond to these unpleasant realities. At once, he resolved to join in this quest. After years of searching and struggle he finally found a way to free himself from suffering. Out of compassion he committed himself to teach others the path to liberation.

This bit caught my attention, to say the least, but then he broke off from the tale and explained how he became a monk in a monastery, where he learned the practices of this path.

Then, returning to the thread, he identified the central core of the teachings as "The Four Noble Truths." These are: the truth of suffering or dissatisfaction (which I thought I already knew all too well), the causes of suffering (which I had concluded were pain and more pain), the cessation of suffering (I wish!!!), and the path to this end (I can hardly wait!!!).

Next time: okay, I’ve heard the truths, but I’m still suffering. Now what?

Abounding: Sampling Errors

Last time, I wrote about how the suffering of Fibromyalgia drove me to seek solace in the fantasy life from which much of my creative writing emerged. I then described how this strategy produced a fictional character for whom I needed to invent a religion. Lastly, I outlined how my internet research on the topic re-ignited my interest in Buddhism, and summarized a few of my past experiences with meditation based on the work of John Kabat-Zinn.

In the course of my Internet searching, I came across a confusing and often conflicting assortment of web pages, books and audio books. There is a wealth of information out there, but what good does that do when it’s so disordered?

Eventually, I began to notice certain patterns, however. For example, Ajahn Brahm has a lot of material out there. A good place to start is the Buddhist Society of Western Australia. There’s a lot to see on this site, but what grabbed me first was his theme of happiness. For a while, I was determined (foolishly, no doubt) that all I had to do was decide to be happy and all would be well. For a few days I was deliriously happy and then I crashed again, as I usually do when I get a hold of one of these popular ideas.

Oh yes, the self-help book/video/audio madness is still going strong. We may feel ill but the get-well-quick-business is very healthy. I don’t think Ajahn Brahm is part of that show, but his ‘advertising campaign,’ style sometimes strikes me as a little over-the-top, and there are hints of a hardness behind it that doesn’t appeal to me. Nevertheless, I am sure that some of you will find some comfort and wisdom in his message, as well as humour.

The Vietnamese, Zen Buddhist monk, Thich Nhat Hanh, is quite popular too, though I had trouble understanding his perspective. After listening to, The Heart of Understanding (Berkeley, USA: Parallax Press, 1987), in the notes I filed with it, I wrote, “Most of this is sheer fantasy, containing many contradictions, but he spins a good tale.” I later discovered that a lot of what I had found concerned a difficult Mahayana Buddhist concept called “emptiness.” It made no sense to me then; hence I moved on.

The Teaching Company has an entertaining course on Buddhism, taught by David Malcolm Eckel, for those seeking a general understanding of Buddhism, and it certainly helped with my fictional religion construction. I, on the other hand, had already embarked on a journey of another kind, entered a completely different boat, or plane or bus from the one I thought I had intended to, but had not yet noticed.

Next time, everything is turned upside-down again, but I still don’t catch on.

Abeyance: False Start

As described last time, in my search for a way to escape the suffering of Fibromyalgia, I resurrected an old writing project and immersed myself in it, or more accurately, in the fantasy life from which this story had emerged. The creation of a certain character in this speculative fantasy—a mad monk—meant that I had to go back and create a religion for him to follow.

Then, while trolling the internet for information on various religions, I came across quite a bit of Buddhist material.

‘Oh yes, Buddhism,’ I thought. ‘I always intended to get back to that someday,’ though I could not remember where or when I’d first heard about it.

I had had some sporadic experiences with meditation in the past, and in the 1990s had seen Bill Moyers’ series, “The Healing Mind.” In one particular episode, Jon Kabat-Zinn’s use of mindfulness meditation and yoga to help people suffering from chronic pain and illness were highlighted. I was impressed. Later, I came across his book, Wherever You Go, There You Are, Mindfulness Meditation in Everyday Life (New York, USA: Hyperion 1994), which I would highly recommend for beginners looking for an introduction to this practice.

I also purchased a copy of Full Catastrophe Living: Using the Wisdom of Your Body and Mind to Face Stress Pain and Illness (New York, USA: Delta 1990). I tried to follow some of the regimen outlined in the book, but really only got as far as the meditation on the breath. I started a meditation diary, and began with ten minutes of meditation a day, increasing it to up to an hour a day over a period of 8 weeks.

Then, just as abruptly, I ceased this practice. My diary records that although there were moments of comfort and relaxation, tremendous difficulties and struggle, pain, intense restlessness, and strong unpleasant emotions predominated. For example, on one occasion I wrote, “preoccupied, angry, hurting, anxious,” and near the end of my practice, “difficult, bitter, depressed, down, despairing, discouraged, angry, struggle, turmoil, overwhelming.” I just could not continue anymore.

Jon Kabat-Zinn’s emphasis was on mindfulness, however, and now I was looking for information about religions. Hence, I began to refresh my memory about what Buddhism was all about (along with other religious traditions, which don’t come into this tale). It was this exploration that led me to some new methods to try, though I wasn’t really looking for anything like that.

Next, I will write about these new discoveries.

Abatement: The plot takes me

Previously, I explained what led me to start this blog; namely, to give an account of my search to find a way to get through the day without screaming, in the event that it might benefit others.

To begin with I sought relief through escapism. From the time I was very young, I displayed an aptitude for making up stories and songs. When I was about seven years old I began to write poetry and imaginative prose. At some point, I got the idea that I wanted to write a novel, and that notion has been following me around ever since. Every now and then I pull one of my many writing projects out from the back of the closet and give it another going over.

My most recent bout of nostalgia was triggered by a desperate desire to disappear into something, ANYTHING!!! that would get me away from my pain.

In fact, I became quite obsessed with working on this thing, to the exclusion of everything else.

My preoccupation eventually became so central to my existence that it was all I could talk about, and I sullenly bristled at any attempt to get me off this topic, because I felt as if it was the only thing that was preventing me from going out of my mind with pain at this point.

Meanwhile, I continued to work on this project—rapidly transmogrifying into a multi-part saga—but right in the middle of this I had also started writing some fan fiction for a science fiction web site, and—you guessed it—bits of my narrative began to leak out onto the virtual page as well.

The first story I wrote in collaboration with another member, who had a penchant for adding forum members as characters. I continued this tradition in the following stories, but only after obtaining people’s permission and feedback about what sort of roles they wanted. (I also read their posts to get an idea of their likes and dislikes, and asked them questions to fill in the details.)

One member asked to be a villain, a mad monk, in fact, and I obliged. As a result of this inclusion, I suddenly realized that I now had to invent a religion to go with my already voluminous tale!

In my next entry, I will reveal how this turn of events led me to a possible path through my agony.

Abandonment: What do you do when nothing works?

I'm not sure where my story begins. I will therefore start with the moment of my desperate realization that I needed to find a way to get through the day without screaming!

What was this about?

One word: PAIN!!!

I suffer from a condition that is known by various names in different parts of the world, but it was introduced to me as, Fibromyaligia.

What is Fibromyalgia?

This baffling and disabling condition causes a wide variety of unpleasant symptoms, but the one that drove my search for relief is the inferno that burns through my chest, shoulders and back.

What is this like?

Imagine the last time you saw a clip of somebody on fire. This is how I feel when I get one of the attacks, which can last for weeks at a time.

There is always some pain, however, and I take pain medication three times a day for the regular simmering agony, but this only dulls it down somewhat.

During the major attacks, only Tylenol 3 seems to help, but since my condition already causes poor sleep, drowsiness, and fatigue, (common side effects of the codeine found in Tylenol 3), by the time I add that to the mix, I might as well not be here at all!

While I am here, I would really like to know I'm here, thank you! Otherwise, what's the point?

Don't get me started on how many remedies I have tried. Everything from A to Z and back again that I can reasonably afford has already been tried.

So, this is not another site about the latest "miracle," cure or whatever. I've seen enough of those already, and I bet you have too. No, I'm through with all that.

Next time, I will begin to tell you about where my search for an alternative has led me so far.