10-06-2015, 12:03 AM
Scenario to illuminate (turning emotive states):
Okay, so an extraordinarily painful circumstance or/and tragedy enters my stage. I begin evoking separation. I am overwhelmed, and the 'practice of detachment' is too trite. This is unimagineable suffering.
I somehow at least SEE that everyman/everywoman necessarily would be rendered distraught.
I envision one of those people now experiencing my sorrow and pain. I watch what it is to be me, as it is, to be the one really hurting, but from the outside. "This technique is a fucking joke," is my thought > "*** detachment" > "I hurt too bad." Again (drawing from habit), I SEE, this too as the thoughts of another. But, I am bombarded by my helplessness... the effort to detach is more energy than I have; I am confused, defeated, and HURTING REALLY REALLY BAD.
"Everyman/everywoman IS HURTING, not just ME."
I see this person 'me' again before myself-- and in the small opening of space therewith, I empathize with billy; as for this now moment, he is not 'me,' but just another unfortunate 'everyman.'
I pick up Matt Sanford's autobiography Waking {highly recommend} and begin reading. Now THERE > THERE > THERE is 'my' pain. "How can circumstance so miserable be called life?", I ask myself. I continue reading about 'my pain' through this 'other man.' His is unbearable, greater than mine and I feel self-pity anyway; because, though this man beckons no sympathy, I FEEL sympathy (and for myself even moreso). I watch this unfold with intermitttant glimpses from the 'observer billy.' I begin to notice the differences between when I am totally consumed by my heartbreak and when I can actually witness from the detached advantage. "This is working well," I tell myself (a slight reprieve from misery)... Then I dig into Matt Sanford's true account, of his experience with new energy. I am skeptical though: "WHO does this guy think he's fooling?.. He would be better off dead." I have some negative appraisals about this Matt Sanford, and I notice that I do so. I SEE I am focused on his painful, tragic story though; that is I am distracted; at times I am not thinking about myself-- I note this-- I note this because it seemed IMPOSSIBLE to have space/reprieve from my own pain. I happily note that I was WRONG; that is, the pain I felt is not necessary ALAWAYS. "Well, geez, I'd rather experience my pain this way, or not at all as billy... I think I'll just watch billy for a while. This seems incongruous with what a piece of **** this segment of life is, but I think to laugh. I laugh because I've tricked billy, and either way the 'i' billy or the 'observer' billy notices the absence of unbearable weight. "How can this be?"
Okay, so an extraordinarily painful circumstance or/and tragedy enters my stage. I begin evoking separation. I am overwhelmed, and the 'practice of detachment' is too trite. This is unimagineable suffering.
I somehow at least SEE that everyman/everywoman necessarily would be rendered distraught.
I envision one of those people now experiencing my sorrow and pain. I watch what it is to be me, as it is, to be the one really hurting, but from the outside. "This technique is a fucking joke," is my thought > "*** detachment" > "I hurt too bad." Again (drawing from habit), I SEE, this too as the thoughts of another. But, I am bombarded by my helplessness... the effort to detach is more energy than I have; I am confused, defeated, and HURTING REALLY REALLY BAD.
"Everyman/everywoman IS HURTING, not just ME."
I see this person 'me' again before myself-- and in the small opening of space therewith, I empathize with billy; as for this now moment, he is not 'me,' but just another unfortunate 'everyman.'
I pick up Matt Sanford's autobiography Waking {highly recommend} and begin reading. Now THERE > THERE > THERE is 'my' pain. "How can circumstance so miserable be called life?", I ask myself. I continue reading about 'my pain' through this 'other man.' His is unbearable, greater than mine and I feel self-pity anyway; because, though this man beckons no sympathy, I FEEL sympathy (and for myself even moreso). I watch this unfold with intermitttant glimpses from the 'observer billy.' I begin to notice the differences between when I am totally consumed by my heartbreak and when I can actually witness from the detached advantage. "This is working well," I tell myself (a slight reprieve from misery)... Then I dig into Matt Sanford's true account, of his experience with new energy. I am skeptical though: "WHO does this guy think he's fooling?.. He would be better off dead." I have some negative appraisals about this Matt Sanford, and I notice that I do so. I SEE I am focused on his painful, tragic story though; that is I am distracted; at times I am not thinking about myself-- I note this-- I note this because it seemed IMPOSSIBLE to have space/reprieve from my own pain. I happily note that I was WRONG; that is, the pain I felt is not necessary ALAWAYS. "Well, geez, I'd rather experience my pain this way, or not at all as billy... I think I'll just watch billy for a while. This seems incongruous with what a piece of **** this segment of life is, but I think to laugh. I laugh because I've tricked billy, and either way the 'i' billy or the 'observer' billy notices the absence of unbearable weight. "How can this be?"