Thursday, September 21, 2017

206. Perception and grieving






More on fixing

In that last section of The Five Invitations I covered, Ostaseski talked about when he and others helped care for a man dying of AIDS in 24 hour shifts, and I thought those shifts are way too long. What you want are four hour watches, like on a ship. Four hours on, four off, four more on. So I was trying to fix his example of how you can't always fix. I'm fixing special needs.



Perception revealed

At the gym this morning I had another of those experiences that demonstrate that perception is much trickier than we usually imagine. While stretching, I was distinctly aware of a woman walking perpendicular to me at some distance. I only caught a quick glimpse of her from the side and a bit behind as she passed between two obstacles. I didn't think much of it.

Then, while working out in another room, I again saw her pass from the same angle, but for a longer period of time. I still had no idea what she looked like, but I somehow got the message that I shouldn't stare in the direction she was heading. Finally, we passed in the corridor that connects the two ends of the gym at that level. She was absolutely stunning. And that was the last I saw of her.

But what interests me here is how "I" was able to "know" something about her without being able to see her. There's a slight chance she had been on a machine at the periphery of my vision and that some part of my brain processed her image without passing it on to me, but that seems unlikely. I frequent the gym during quiet periods, but still there are many people, of at least two sexes, around, so I can't imagine how the brain could connect pheromones (even if they exist) to a fairly distant figure. Compared to this, people falling in love at first sight across a crowded dance floor is trivial to explain.

Whenever I contemplate the senses and perception, it makes me wonder what is really "out there." But an experience like this just makes me wonder what other information "we" have access to but may not be aware of. And, as usual, this kind of knowledge seems to violate the laws of physics, but is not a problem for a pantheistic view of reality.


And speaking of the gym, while I'm being very cautious about increasing weights, I am back to my pre-February norm on one of the free-weight exercises I had to cut back on through the travails of this year. I'm going to continue being very cautious until after HSB, and in some cases I think I was forcing too heavy weights, so I may not return to what I was lifting across the board. But it is still nice to make some progress. And my wrist is the best it's been in maybe three years -- possibly due to less stress from less weight? -- so maybe this miserable year has been all for the best. Call me Pangloss.




The Raging River

From The Five Invitations
I'm not sure this really belongs here, but if feels like it might. 

In this section... well, I'm not quite sure yet what he's up to, but there's this,

p149 Mindfulness is a de-conditioning. It cultivates a merciful, awake presence of mind that no longer blocks the heart. Then things are free to be as they are. We allow the difficult, dark, and dense. We become intimate with our pain and difficulties, our joy and beauty, embodying our full humanity and discovering an ever-deeper, vast sense of wholeness.

p150 Sometimes what is over there seems more valuable than what is right here. But being who you are can only arise from accepting where you are.

And then he tells a story about walking on a beach in Thailand with his teenage daughter who is obsessed with a boy back home. Over a couple paragraphs, he "fixes" her (I can't help noting) and she is able to Be Here Now.

And here's my problematic contribution to this: Reading this I couldn't help thinking of a particular young woman in my global, online community who is in her mid-twenties but totally acting like an emotional teen. 

Our little community is probably on its last legs. It started out as a retreat from a larger, public, forum. A bunch of us, who got along and shared a common sensibility, left the irritating people behind. I thought it was a bad idea, since what bound us together was the conflict with the "others," but I gave in and joined after all the cool people had left the public forum.

Over the years, more people who stuck out were eliminated, and other people just disappeared. There are not many of us still active. But we do support each other with a fairly wide range of issues. It's more like a private Facebook, at this point, though one where everyone shares a few areas of cultural literacy.

But the young woman I mentioned above only appears now to vomit her feelings and despair. She is tiresome. I've tried to calm her down with my version of Ostaseski's Buddhist world view, but she can only hear her own self-obsessed narrative. I briefly considered quoting some of Ostaseski's wisdom on the forum (we have a thread about what we're reading) but I can't imagine her reading it, much less processing it and applying it to herself. Her unrequited love is the core of her existence at this moment. That and her neediness. 

She does remind me of why I wouldn't want to be in my twenties again.


How to grieve
p161 ...In the first days and weeks after someone you love dies, don't expect yourself to be able to function fully. Ask for help. Let somebody else make the meals and do the laundry. Cancel your appointments. Take time...

Apparently I did this entirely wrong. My mother died on the 21st of the month so I had to empty out her apartment by the end of the month. I had to get rid of many things and ship the remainder across country to a storage unit near me that I also had to rent. I then had to beat the moving truck back home so I would be there to receive it. There was also the funeral home and lawyer and CPA to deal with. It was one of the most hectic periods of my entire life.


Interestingly, this little guide to grieving would seem to apply more to my online friend who has lost an imagined relationship she was actively invested in, than to my situation with my parents -- who I saw once a year. It also applies to another online friend who lost her eye earlier this year. 

Losing a part of yourself (physical or mental), or part of your life (a job or hobby or imagined future), would seem to be subject to the same conventions of grief listed here. There could be an elaborate system of armbands -- I can imagine myself trying to recall if a taupe armband means someone lost her cat or some litigation that had been consuming her life for years.

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