Friday, August 21, 2009

"I love you." "I know."

I remember the times in my youthful romantic relationships, the ones full of limerence and lust, when I would wait for the right moment to look at her to say "I love you" for the first time. Then wait anxiously for the response I so longed to hear: "I love you, too." I remember the devastating feeling that washed over me when the response was: "I know." I had hung all my feelings, hopes and dreams out there only to be crushed by a polite acknowledgment that committed to nothing.

I remember the times in my middle years in my long term covenanted relationships, the ones sometimes frayed, and bruised and threatening to come undone, when I would look at her and and say "I love you." and then anxiously await the accustomed response, the one we had practiced for years: "I love you too." I remember the sadness and sense of loss when the response was: "I know." I had made a peace offering, given a reminder of our history together and my hopes for our future, only to be rebuffed by a vague expression that committed nothing.

Over the past six weeks as Paula and I have plunged headlong into this medical nightmare, there have been many occasions when we have comforted one another with our habituated somewhat casual responses: "I love you. I love you too." But there have also been times when "I love you." has been met with "I know." Only now, in my mature years and probably more mature love, "I know" has taken on a whole new and profound meaning. It is an affirmation of commitment, a recognition of 15 beautiful years plus six weeks of hell, spent serving each other without asking anything in return. "I know." means I've somehow succeeded in cherishing and supporting another in the way they want to be loved.

I've been signing these blogs with "I love you all." Tonight, I want to say to all of you who have verbally and implicitly expressed your love and support for me---tonight I want to say:
"I know."

Wednesday, August 5, 2009

Intimacy

I'm writing this post in order to clarify something that has been a bit vague and unintegrated for me. So please don't take this as me teaching anyone but myself.



"First there is a mountain, then no mountain, then there is." I am coming to understand this old zen saying as a description of three stages of intimacy. Three stages that give rise to three levels or perhaps states of a decreasing sense of separation between our felt sense of "self" and our felt sense of "other."

This observation arose for me during my stay this week for the second round of chemo at MDA. My infusions began at 10:30 pm. The night nurse who greeted me seemed perhaps not as experienced or confident as the other nurses who have tended to me. She got a bit defensive when I reminded her to write the schedule of my doses on the schedule board. She got more irritated when I pointed out that I believed she had scheduled the anti-nausea medicine too early. Instead of checking, she went ahead with what she thought was right. We saw each other as "other." We divided the our worlds into two. Nurse and patient. The one in charge. The one not in charge. Me here. Mountain there.

15 hours later it was time to take a four hour dose of Cisblatine--the chemo that is primarily responsible for causing severe nausea. By now the anti-nausea dose I had been given had worn off and I was faced with the prospect of receiving only post infusion remedies for sickness instead of prophylactically addressing the issue. I explained my problem to my new nurse and her first response was "I'm sorry. You're right, we should have waited until now. But we can't really re-administer the medicine." In that moment as our eyes met and she saw the anxiety and fear in my face, something softened. Some line between us blurred. "Well, she said, "I suppose we could give you one of the two you were supposed to receive because it will be out of your system by now." Call it empathy, call it nurturing, I call it intimacy. She really understood, could put herself in my place. We were not mountains opposing each other. Those mountains were gone for the time and in their place was a state experience of not being separate.

Which leads me to the third stage of intimacy where mountains are mountains again, but not seen in the same way. I have experienced this stage as repeated states of non-dual consciousness. Shikantaza, my meditation practice, has afforded me sometimes prolonged glimpses of a greater Unity. Of "things as they is" as Suzuki Roshi is reported to have said.
In this state/stage body and mind drop away completely. Life is just life without anything added. No stories are necessary. Genpo Roshi calls this "Big Mind/Big Heart." Recently I've experienced it another way as "being the Light" This stage transcends and includes the previous two. So Mountains are Mountains again--I am aware of the sense of separation and yet I know simultaneously at another level that there are no boundaries save the ones my mind creates. In this way compassion arises. I am able to feel compassion for all who do not have life threatening cancer because I can see clearly that we are all in free fall. I can have compassion for the cancer itself which is not separate from me.

My learning from this is two-fold: First we can and do occupy all three state/stages everyday to one degree or another. They are in a sense not really separate either. That's an abstract learning. The more practical learning is that these three stages correspond roughly to certain dynamics of interpersonal relationships.
For example: Sympathy/Empathy/Compassion.
Also: "I treat you the way you the way I think is right" vs. "I treat you the way I would want to be treated." vs "I treat you the way you want to be treated."

The subject matter is explored thoroughly in the book Paula and I are publishing: The Source: A Journal of Mindful Relationship. (First drafts available upon request)

I love you all,

phil

Monday, August 3, 2009

Confidence

Getting ready for round 2 of the chemo. (Cue the ring card girl :-) I tolerated the first round quite well. I feel great. Energized, focused and upbeat. Met with Dr Siefker today. Came away feeling really confident. I got a clear sense from her manner and forthrightness that she expects to win. She has a real presence, a directness and concentrated attention that I really appreciate. I even invited her to check out my "woo-woo" posts and she said that research shows that people with community support, family support, faith, and a positive attitude tend to have better outcomes. I think her jury is still out on healing vision while in a deep meditative state :-)

In any event, those experiences of "being Light" continue. Some have become quite animated. I'm resisting making too much meaning of it all. Just grateful that when it happens I come away refreshed, renewed and in high spirits.

Today, I got to meet with the team from work by teleconference. I got to feel the kind of caring and support that Dr Siefker spoke of. Thank so much!

I love you all,