Читать книгу Tiny Buddha, Simple Wisdom for Life's Hard Questions - Lori Deschene - Страница 12

Suffering has a place only in a world where there is insufficient empathy. ∼@malengine

People have their faith put in imagination, not into other people. We need people loving each other. ∼@Hey_Pato

There is immense suffering in this world because people fail to be proactive with their words and actions. ∼@SkyIsOpen

The world has not yet understood that even if there are 6, 861, 638, 344 individuals, we all make one. ∼@witchy_di

A harder question is: What are you doing to alleviate the suffering? ∼@UncleElvis

It's clear that pain is necessary, though suffering can be avoided. This might seem to imply that we alone hold the responsibility for minimizing our anguish. If we have trouble doing this, the next logical conclusion is that we should hide it and bear it alone. A lot of us learned growing up that strength means not showing emotion, and definitely not admitting vulnerability. This doesn't actually convince anyone that we don't hurt and we aren't vulnerable, because everyone with a pulse does and is.

We can't avoid hurting in life, and if we did, it would be dangerous. Pain tells us we're alive. Pain challenges us, guides us, and connects us. Everyone feels the same things in life, though at different times and in different ways. Even if no one else has dealt with the specific challenge you face—and even that is unlikely—everyone else has felt the same overwhelming sense of confusion, fear, and terror. Regardless of how distressing the details of your past may be, someone else can relate to the exact feelings of disappointment, disillusionment, and anger. Someone might look completely confident and together, but be sure that at some point, he's felt insecure and scared. Another may appear to be bold and fulfilled, but know that, in the distant or very recent past, she's closed the blinds, burrowed under the covers, and exhausted herself through gut-wrenching tears.

Pain is not a sign of weakness, but bearing it alone is a choice to grow weak. It's only in finding the courage to admit our pain that we can lean on each other. And why shouldn't we? Knowing that we all go through the same things and that most people do feel compassion for each other, why should we shroud ourselves in shame simply for being human?

Being disliked and misunderstood by some is worth the freedom of knowing you are loved and supported by many.

This year several teen suicides made headlines, shining a light on the dangers of bullying, particularly in our always-on, Internet-enabled world. Knowing firsthand how easy it is to hate yourself when you believe that everyone else does too, I can only imagine the horror of having the harassment extend to Facebook, online chats, and text messages. In the aftermath of these tragedies, writer Dan Savage and his partner posted a video of compassion and hope online. A whole campaign, It Gets Better, grew naturally from that. In a number of simple yet powerful videos, celebrities and those less well known stare straight at the screen and, one by one, with kind eyes and implied understanding, remind the viewer that no matter how hard things may seem, “It gets better.” It's easy to disbelieve, since we can never know for certain what the future holds, but most of us have experienced some type of transformative pain in our lives. If we're still alive, it likely has gotten better—if not in every way, in some.

As I watched these videos, imagining how therapeutic they would have been to twelve-year-old me, when I seriously considered all avenues to end my despair, something occurred to me: What if we all extended that same compassion far before others got to the point where they life-or-death needed it? What if we opened our eyes and recognized the small signs that someone's hurting and then let her know we've been there, too, and we'll be there for her now?

Of course, it's not just the outsiders who have a responsibility. All the support in the world will be useless if those who are hurting refuse to admit we need it. In an article about Phoebe Prince, one of the bullied teenagers who committed suicide, Emily Bazelon cited a definition of bullying as “repeated acts of abuse that involve a power imbalance.” By this definition, it seems clear to me that a lot of us bully ourselves. We choose to take away our own power by beating ourselves up even further than did the external injury. We torment ourselves in silence to avoid feeling vulnerable and inferior.

Of all the burdens I've carried around, the heaviest was the belief that I was wrong to be hurting—that enlightened people felt pain like a raindrop on their shoe whereas I let it hit me like a self-contained tsunami because I was tragically weak. I felt certain I had to either hide or package myself in smiles and lies—otherwise I'd expose the ugliest flaw in my character. I've come to realize that the only mistake when it comes to pain is to assume life shouldn't involve it and that pain often starts to dull when I decide to embrace it, acknowledge it, and grow from it. Sadness, fear, disgust, and even anger can make the world a better place if we find the strength to channel them toward something good.

Why is there suffering the world? Because there is—the more important question is: what good can we do for ourselves and each other knowing that pain to be inevitable?

LET YOUR PAIN CONNECT YOU TO OTHER PEOPLE.

Instead of sitting alone in your pain:

Be honest with other people about what you're experiencing. Nothing feels more liberating than the freedom to be exactly where you are, without apologizing or trying to protect yourself from judgment. That doesn't mean that no one will judge you—some people will, and that's just life. Be honest anyway. Being disliked and misunderstood by some is worth the freedom of knowing you are loved and supported by many.

Express yourself to release the feelings, not to dwell on them. There's a difference between sharing your experiences for support and seeking an audience with no intention of finding a solution. Whether you're talking to your friends or to strangers in a support group, be honest about your experience but release the need to pull them into the story. Your goal isn't to create an identity so that people constantly relate to your pain; it's to share your pain so that you can release it, allowing people the opportunity to relate to all of you.

Help heal other people's pain. Because you know what pain feels like, you can recognize it in other people—so be there in the way you'd want it. For me, that means asking, “How can I help?” when someone seems burdened, and then being open to whatever is needed without judgment or expectation; or giving someone an uncomfortably long hug when he appears to be weak, allowing him to melt into my arms. We are all in this together. Now we just have to act like it.