getting over the good stuff

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In Zen practice, someone once remarked, "the hard stuff is easy; it's the easy stuff that's hard."

Yesterday, I received an eleven-page tale from a Vietnam-war combat veteran who had been where the bullets flew, had done what he could as a medic, and found years later how badly he had been scarred.  I found the piece compelling ... a good man pushed to extremes in bad circumstances. In my mind, and I don't use the word lightly, it was tragic. In my mind, it was beyond weeping.

Once upon a time, perhaps in the 1980's, Anne Morrow Lindbergh, wife of famed aviator Charles Lindbergh, was interviewed on TV. In 1932, the Lindbergh's 20-month-old son, Charles, had been kidnapped and was subsequently found dead, and the interviewer could not shy away from the incident, which had drawn national headlines in its time. "How does it feel to have your child kidnapped," he asked, more or less.

The now-older Anne Morrow Lindbergh sat quite still in the wake of the question. She was a woman who dressed properly, had the demeanor of someone who was well-off, and was, if I remember, wearing the WASP-obligatory strand of pearls. The seconds between the question and the answer seemed to stretch out forever: How would this patrician, the kind of person accustomed to deflecting issues that ripped the social fabric, cope with anything so direct?

And the first words out of her mouth were, "I think everybody has suffered a tragedy...."

Whether this observation was simply another bit of patrician pablum or whether it was what she honestly felt, I had no way of knowing. I did know that I thought the remark was utterly true and that that truth might serve anyone well: If everyone has suffered a tragedy, then, perhaps, it is time to exercise some kindness in the company we keep.

A world rife with fear and blood and death. A world in which the child of your womb is taken from your home and then taken from your life. It is to scream in a world where there is no sound. And everybody has suffered a tragedy.

This is well and truly the "hard stuff" -- screaming in a world where no one hears.

And in the wake of the hard stuff, the easy stuff arises. Given a chance, the endlessly selfish man may find some cause to revise his heart and revise his ways. Kindness and altruism may seem the appropriate tools with which to counteract the self-centered activities of the past. And this effort wins a social approbation and applause. Kindness, altruism and the like are ... well, they're nicer in a world where I rely on you and you rely on me.

Given a chance, the endlessly selfish man may find some cause to revise his heart and revise his ways. But, given a chance, can the same be said for those who exercise their kindness and altruism? In a social setting, it might be said that there is be no need to revise the heart and mind of kindness and altruism. And in this setting -- a setting with so much approval -- who would think to change his or her ways ... to correct what is so patently 'right' or 'good' or 'fulfilling?'

One of the cornerstones of the loneliness that anyone might feel in life is the simple fact that no one can 'share' experience. It's not for lack of trying, of course. There are all sorts of people running around claiming "sharing is caring" and the like. And it's pretty convincing ... right up to the point where the loneliness kicks in. The fact remains ... steadfast as a world of soundless screams and untransmittable joys. Experience cannot be shared ... this is not a recognition for sissies.

The longing to be helpful and caring and kind relies on the concreteness of others on whom such riches can be bestowed and from whom thanks and support may be won. In a social universe, this is the easy stuff, the good stuff, the stuff worth sharing, the stuff that gives meaning and encourages belief.

And then there's the bathroom mirror, the venue in which no one knows and no one can know ... but I know. Looking for meaning an applause in the bathroom mirror is a fool's errand because, of course, the bathroom mirror already knows: Goodness and kindness and altruism are not shared ... they are, when they arise at all, simply what is. Asking for meaning and support from what is is like asking a Ford to be a Chevvy. But this is a hard recognition within an easy world and so, perhaps, except for the loneliness, it is easier to rest on "sharing is caring."

This train of thought is not aimed at some social generalization. It is aimed at the individual who may be inclined to clear away some of the undergrowth in his or her life. Kindness and altruism and deeds of much merit really are good things. Easy things. Praise-worthy things. But seeking meaning or support or accolades from such circumstances is a step too far and tends to compound the very problem that seeking might hope to solve.

The easy stuff is hard.

Circumstances arise.

We walk together.

And as the Dalai Lama once suggested, "It can't be helped."
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