Lost
My old girl Taco must be approaching 15, we don’t really know for certain since she came to us as a rescue dog over a dozen years ago. We suspect she has some type of mild Canine Cognitive Dysfunction because she wanders aimlessly at times and gets lost on our small patio and barks to come inside an open door. Her hearing and sight are a bit diminished but most of her confusion comes from a mind that can’t seem to remember what was once familiar to her. And though we will continue to try and help her the odds are things won’t get better for her as she grows older.
Facing a future that does not hold the promise of easier times can be devastating for tender hearts. Holding on to the hope that things get better may be the only candle in the wind that keeps us keeping on. The dark realization that “things” don’t change can be a bitter pill to swallow, especially when we are in pain, notably when we are suffering, precisely when we feel we have hit the bottom of our existential crisis and we wish the heavens would open and hold out an olive branch for us to grasp and pull ourselves out of the desert storm we seem to be lost within.
My son told me the news that Robin Williams was found dead today. Our first thoughts were some version of .. if the world is such a painful place for such a “funny man” how are the rest of us suppose to muddle along? But we all know that humor masks so much pain, the public smile hides a terrorized mind even perhaps for Mona Lisa herself. I have been in conversation this week at every corner it seems with people who are seeing the history-repeats-itself paradigm in their own auto-biography. For my part in the collective monologue I found some old writings (journals) from over five years ago and I realized that I could have written them yesterday. The pain, the fear, the suffering, the dis-ease used the same words even though my external circumstances are 180° towards utopia the egoic mind is still dictated by the programming that has always influenced my pain body.
I listened as a dear friend of mine spoke to me about the same thing this afternoon. Telling my whole life, with his words killing me softly with his song. Not only was there a realization of the autopilot persona that bobs and weaves to the ripples in the surface of a pristine lake, but there was such an angry disdain expressed about being human or perhaps the inhumanity of it all. And of course I understood, because I was feeling the same karmic conditioned disdain myself.
I understand the desire to not feel the burden of the double feature we find our self playing the leading role. We want what we want. For some people, there is no escaping the pain. Or perhaps their selective amnesia stops them from remembering even the little micro-moments of bliss that fall like tiny grains of salt into a vast ocean of agony. My mother use to say … you can’t give someone salt if you don’t have any salt. As we each walk one another home, perhaps all we can do is point out the flavor of salt that they may have overlooked.
With POTS we are often salting and over salting our food so that we can reduce the symptoms of the disorder. Each of us in some way are looking for that special spice that will make the good times linger or keep the bad times at bay. In the article I read about Robin Williams, it said that he had entered rehab last month. The comedian was often open about his struggles with addiction and sobriety for 20 years. The harsh reality is the headline hits home for so many of us. My family of origin includes several alcoholic and drug abusing step-fathers. And the very sad part of the chronic illness chronicles is that even when someone successfully recovers from their addiction, when they stop using chemicals to escape their pain they can be overwhelmed by the waves of suffering that they now have to manage without any salt. And for the first time they find themselves standing alone with their torment (tenderness).
I wish there was an olive branch that I could offer to help lift someone out of the dark places. As it is, the best that I can do is turn a light on the porch and walk over to my old dog and help her find her way back into the house with a smile and gentle pat on the head.
