Until I started studying spiritual philosophy, I had a narrow definition of suffering which encompassed mostly physical pain: headaches, cancer, childbirth, broken bones, etc.
But I have realized that suffering is really what we do to ourselves with our (negative) thinking. Anxiety is suffering. Depression is suffering. Guilt and regret are suffering. Worrying is suffering!
In the path to non-suffering, one essential practice (according to the Tao, Buddhists and other spiritual practitioners, such as Eckhart Tolle) is to refrain from resisting reality. For example, if you are planning an outdoor party and it rains as your guests arrive, you do not resist reality (the rain). Instead, you simply move the party indoors and continue your celebration. If you complain and cry out against the rain, will it stop? No. But you pollute the environment for those around you (family and friends) with your resistance.
I propose a concerted effort to watch one’s language in this pursuit: eliminate the words “I wish.”
“I wish it wasn’t so hot in Phoenix!” [forecast: 110°F today]
“I wish my children were better at (fill in the blank)”
“I wish my spouse/co-workers would…”
Wishing for something that is counter to reality is inviting misery, disappointment and anguish.
Ruiz explains further, “Whatever happens around you, don’t take it personally… Nothing other people do is because of you. It is because of themselves.”
What a shame it is to take what others say personally. You cannot control what others say to you or about you. And they don’t even really know you. So why bother?
“Perfection is the death of all good things, perfection is the death of pleasure, it’s the death of productivity, it’s the death of efficiency, it’s the death of joy. Perfection is just a bludgeon that goes around murdering everything good. Somebody once said I was disingenuous for saying this, because surely I try to make my work as good as it can be. And that’s absolutely true — but there’s a really big difference between ‘as good as it can be’ and perfection.” – TED, September 2015
The first year of marriage is traditionally themed “Paper” and this is quite apropos as we work to zero your credit card debt. Most of our income goes to MasterCard and Visa. We also make payments to my college loans.
In what will become the beginning of a pattern, you help me recover from adversity. I am in a car accident right before the wedding which requires orthoscopic ACL reattachment of my left knee, but you are there for me.
Year 2 = Cotton – 1998 – We walk down Sanchez Street to the corner market, cook dinner, dance and enjoy life. Cotton symbolizes the intertwining and flexibility a couple has for each other. We learn to give and bend.
2000 – We buy our first house on Mt. Vernon. It has the original electrical from the 1920’s. I can’t toast bread and blow dry my hair at the same time, but it’s ours, all ours!
Theme: Fruits and Flowers 2001 – Four years of marital bliss! We take our first trip to Italy together to celebrate John’s 40th. [We drink lots of delicious “grape juice” and take in all the gorgeous flowers of Italy.]
2002 – Our beloved Josephine Choonja Wipff is born! Traditional Theme: Wood – Like the deep roots of an old oak tree. We are a strong family.
2003 – Ava Oksoon Wipff is born! Traditional Theme: Candy. Our life is definitely sweet.
2006 – moved to AZ, against your wishes. If a marriage has ups and downs, this is our “down.” But we get through it. Theme: Pottery and Willow – Our marriage continues to be the product of our choices and experiences, fired in the “oven of adversity.”
2007 – The girls begin violin lessons with Mrs. Lia Taylor, violin teacher extraordinaire. It’s the beginning of a beautiful relationship. You are starting to like – maybe love? – Arizona’s deserts, natural beauty and space.
2010 – I am diagnosed with breast cancer. We are scared. But we weigh the options. I want the cancer OUT! So I opt for a radical bilateral mastectomy. 13 years of marriage and the theme is lace – beautiful, yet strong.
2011 – Ivory – represents fidelity and purity. We have a good taste of the part “for worse” in a marriage by now. And we stick together, help each other through job layoffs and my six surgeries for breast reconstruction. I cry tears of joy (yes, joy!) as I drive to a class to complete my Master’s degree with drains hanging from my chest, under my shirt. I know I am so fortunate to have you…..the girls…this life.
2014 – Furniture is the theme for the 17th year of marriage. Furniture? We have plenty. We both have the uncanny talent for choosing furniture that is too large for our house.
2015 – Porcelain can be simple or complex. We are decidedly simple. We eschew extravagant spending and luxuries. Wrinkles and gray hair are starting to form…our memories are starting to fade. Fortunately, when you say, “Oh, there’s that actress…you know…from that one movie….with that one guy….” I look at the screen and and I completely understand you. See? We no longer need words.
2016 – Our 19th, baby! Bronze. A metal consisting of metal and tin, mixed together. It requires dedication to keep from corroding. Despite our longevity, we know marriage requires constant attention. We’re bronze with a patina of strength.
2017 – Platinum. Credit card companies and airlines afford you platinum status when you’ve created an exceptional track record of responsibility. Twenty years, my love. I look forward to at least twenty more.
The world is moving faster than ever. Impatience and tempers ablaze. Stress fortifies insomnia. Chaotic thoughts emanate from the computer, the phone, and your mind.
You must deliberately seek the quiet, the stillness, and nature.
Yesterday morning (before it reached 118 degrees), I washed the outdoor chaise cushions (pelted by bird poop) with eco-friendly soap and the hose. The bolsters were heavy with water and I carried them to dry against the boulders that were once where our pool now gleams.
Once dry, I placed the cushions back on the loungers.
This morning, I noticed new “gifts” from a bird on one of my freshly cleaned cushions. The mourning dove made eye contact with me from his perch in the tree.
I Googled “how to keep birds out of trees“.
Possible solutions: a scarecrow and shiny objects placed in the branches. Neither one of these would fit my husband’s delicate aesthetics, so I thought some more.
How about cutting the branches off? Oh no. That would not do. We need all the shade we can get around here.
Ooooh! One of those large, fake owls!
Apparently, this does not work.
More ideas from the Internet: pie tins, old DVDs, mylar balloons. No, no, no.
In the end, I simply moved the chaise from under the tree. Problem solved.
Have you ever read something that was just what you needed to read?
I finished reading Nora Ephron’s I Feel Bad About My Neck. There is an essay/chapter within it titled “Parenting in Three Stages.”
“Adolescence comes as a gigantic shock to the modern parent, in large part because it seems so much like the adolescence you yourself went through. Your adolescent is sullen. Your adolescent is angry. Your adolescent is mean. In fact, your adolescent is mean to you.”
Back when they looked like this,
I could ask them to make their beds and they’d respond with sweet laughter (even if they didn’t make their beds).
Kismet 