Worldly Winds and Second Arrows
“Monks, these eight worldly conditions spin after the world, and the world spins after these eight worldly conditions. Which eight? Gain, loss, status, disgrace, censure, praise, pleasure, & pain. These are the eight worldly conditions that spin after the world, and the world spins after these eight worldly conditions.” ~Buddha
The eight worldly winds are pleasure and pain, praise and blame, fame and disrepute, gain and loss. These are pairs of opposites: one we are attracted to, the other repulsed by. The conditions of their blowing are beyond us and can’t be controlled. We get carried away by these winds and can lose our course easily. ~Paul Lukasik
Despite the fact that we are all intimately familiar with the ups and downs of life, most of us are still somehow surprised to discover that circumstances change. Each of the worldly winds described by the Buddha will come to us at one time or another, and yet we have this idea that life should always be pleasant. We should only have the pleasure, praise, fame, and gain without their opposites. If things have been going our way for a time, it is a shock when pain or loss appears. I am no exception. As a doctor, I had the idea that serious illness was something that only happened to other people. What a shock when my healthy 6 month old baby started having seizures and was ultimately diagnosed with an incurable genetic disorder. In his book, Mindfulness: A Practical Guide to Awakening, Joseph Goldstein shares a quote from Arther Ashe regarding the tennis champion’s diagnosis of HIV:
When asked about his illness, he replied, “If I were to say, ‘God, why me?’ about the bad things, then I should have said, ‘God, why me?’ about the good things that happened in my life.”
The second of the Four Noble Truths taught by the Buddha is that suffering (dukkha in the Pali language) has an underlying cause. Suffering, or dissatisfaction with life, is caused by our craving for things to be other than they are. As the adage goes, “We want what we don’t have and don’t want what we do have.” Our idea of how life should be is rarely in alignment with how it actually is. According to the Buddha, we can only become fully awakened by accepting life just as it is rather than rejecting it and constantly striving for something else.
How can we apply this to parenting a chronically ill child? My idea of how things should be is that I should have a healthy, thriving child who can play and learn and go on to be a healthy, thriving adult. This idea does not match up with the reality of never ending seizures, a kitchen counter full of medications, restrictive diets, and frequent trips to the hospital. My child has an incurable seizure disorder that doesn’t respond very well to antiepileptic medication. Every time we try a new treatment, I ride a roller coaster of hope that this time it will work, and crushing disappointment as the seizures continue unabated. I have been through this with over a dozen different combinations of drugs. Regarding the Eight Worldly Winds, I think that Buddhist scholars should add “Hope and Crushing Disappointment” as a special subcategory under “Gain and Loss” specifically for people battling a catastrophic illness.
So what is someone in my position to make of the Buddha’s teaching? When applied to life’s minor frustrations, it is easy to see the truth of the teaching. For example, traffic jams are bound to happen from time to time. You can let road rage take over causing suffering for yourself and possibly others around you, or you can accept that they are an unavoidable part of life and stay calm and peaceful in your car. But, is it really possible to develop a sense of equanimity in the face of your own child’s suffering? As a pediatrician, I would never tell a parent to just sit back and accept their baby’s illness. How am I supposed to do this as a parent? (Damn it, Spock! I’m a doctor, not a machine!) I’m certainly not going to sit under a tree and meditate while my daughter has a seizure. How do I reconcile the teachings with my experience? Accepting life just as it is sounds more like giving up and I don’t think that’s what the Buddha had in mind.
Although I am far from a place of acceptance, I have been working with a couple of practices to help me cope with the strong emotions that tend to come up when yet another treatment fails or Sarah has a bad night of seizures.
The first strategy is contemplation of the metaphor of the second arrow. In the story of the second arrow, the Buddha asks his monks to consider how painful it is to be shot with an arrow. He then asks them to consider what it would be like to be shot with a second arrow in the same spot. The first arrow represents painful events that naturally occur in the course of our lives. The second arrow is what we ourselves add: “In the same way, when touched with a feeling of pain, a person sorrows, grieves, and laments, beats his breast, becomes distraught. So he feels two pains, physical and mental.” It is bad enough when something painful happens, but when we rage against it, become anguished, lost in self-pity, or lash out at ourselves or others, we are multiplying our suffering; we are shooting the second arrow. I did not choose this path for myself or my daughter, but if I live in a constant state of anger and resentment, I will be unable to appreciate the moments of joy when they do come.
This is not to suggest that you should ignore your pain. You should experience your sorrow, frustration, or anger. Pay attention to the physical manifestation of anguish in your body. Where do you feel it? What is it like? Don’t wallow in it, but also don’t try to push it away or wall it off. Painful emotions have a way of resurfacing when we least expect them. Thich Nhat Hanh recommends that we treat our suffering with compassion, like a mother rocking and soothing a crying infant. Offer compassion to your pain and treat yourself with kindfulness.
“You know quite well, deep within you, that there is only a single magic, a single power, a single salvation…and that is called loving. Well, then, love your suffering. Do not resist it, do not flee from it. It is your aversion that hurts, nothing else.” ~Hermann Hesse
I would also submit that we should treat happy emotions the same way. All eight winds will blow in their turn. There may be pain, but there will also be pleasure. Seek out those small bits of joy when they come along and nurture them like a baby bird you found. Or, those YouTube videos of rescued baby bats wrapped in tiny blankets and sucking on sponges soaked with milk.
The second technique I’m cultivating is to work with the lesser worldly winds that stir up strife on a daily basis, rather than tackle the big hurricane of refractory epilepsy. I will never give up on seeking an effective treatment for Sarah’s seizures. However, the truth of the matter is that a cure is not likely to be found in Sarah’s lifetime, and even if we could stop the seizures completely, it is unlikely that the damage done to Sarah’s brain and cognitive development would be reversed. Ultimately, I will have to come to terms with this but, in the same way that a body builder starts with lighter weights and works their way up to being world champion, I must start by working with smaller challenges. Can I practice equanimity with the long line in the grocery store, the flat tire, or the obnoxious sales clerk? Every time I find myself upset by some relatively minor obstacle, my practice is to just notice how I am feeling. If a solution to the problem is possible, I take the appropriate action. If not, I try to remember that life doesn’t always go my way and it’s okay. With frequent practice, hopefully, one day I’ll be able to make peace with my powerlessness in the face of Dravet syndrome.
A fellow meditator had this to say, “I have been dealing with a special needs child for many years (my son is 21, and is diagnosed with autism, major depression and mental illness, and has food allergies and diabetes) and have turned to Vipassana meditation to cope with the unrelenting stress. I have also had to become unattached to the outcomes of my son’s life; as much as I have tried, I cannot heal him and I cannot control his path. By practicing meditation and mindfulness I am able to be a more present and loving parent for him, and accepting of who he is.”
This is my practice – frequent small bouts of mindfulness and equanimity combined with trying not to shoot the second arrow or build up the suffering that is already present. Slowly, I am finding that I am less reactive to minor vexations. It is a work in progress. Some days the Worldly Winds blow more strongly than others and I find myself resisting life rather than trying to accept things as they are. But that’s okay. I’m getting there.
“O snail
Climb Mount Fuji
But slowly, slowly!”
~Kobayashi Issa
Metta
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