Lama Marut offers a picture of us suffering individuals running around holding a hot coal in our hands, crying "ouch" endlessly and again. His suggestion is that we drop the hot coal. Easier said than done. For one thing we identify with our suffering, define ourselves by it. If the suffering is bad enough, we simply can't get out from under it. So, my guess is that we should practice letting go of little, kind of hot coals all the time so that when we get the big mother lode of fire in our hands we will have had some practice. I, for one, have a few resentments that are so precious to me that I actually grin when they pop up. How perverse is that?
When Richard Nixon died, my mother asked me if I forgave him. I was outraged at the idea. "No". Resenting him had become part of my identity. Recently I spoke with a 30 something Menonite woman who was astounded that when she mentioned Nixon all the people of my generation jumped in with their favorite Nixon nightmares. But what came up in the ensuing conversation was that Nixon had empowered us. He had been so outrageous that a whole generation had risen up to oppose his war. So maybe we owe him a debt of gratitude. Hear that, Mom?
But this thing about 'Letting go and Letting God". I get it sometimes. I have a lot of control freaks in my little universe. I can see that when thing spiral out of control, holding on harder often doesn't work. The bending reed thing comes to mind. But I also have people in my universe who set something in motion and then say "It is in God's hands." and walk away. What exactly does this mean? Or on a larger scale, we build, buy, launch weapons of mass destruction (agent orange comes to mind) on poor people in the jungles of Vietnam. We kill millions of First Peoples, we enslave millions of Africans. Who's hands hold these actions?
I need some clarity on this concept of "Letting go and letting God." Anyone have any great experiences on this front?
Hey Jules,
ReplyDeleteWalk every you step with intention about what you are doing saying thinking and then feeling is so much of also Buddhism that I've learned from Lama Marut. He talks about taking that inventory every couple of hours It doesnt fit with the letting go and letting God. The big guy in the sky where a person just says oh well? I have no control of what happens but we do, somewhat right? Of course we make choices , and as I've experienced , you spend years "paying for simple choices. Should I stay r should I go? I went...and spent years and lots lots lots of inner lessons of standing up for myself and owning my power just from the going....But it was the choice I made way back then.
Agent Orange brings another thing to mind in this same realm...We not only poisoned an entire country with Agent Orange but we poisoned our own too. My Uncle Amby just died from cancer from Agent Orange. He was drafted in 1968. Me and my Mom were talking about how his whole would have been different had he not been drafted into the war, and it eventually killed him decades later. He was the kindest gentlest soul and he was so scarred by that war. But here's the thing. Uncle Amby being drafted had a huge impact on the entire legacy of my family. I remember being just a child and those years of everyone worrying (the Irish are good at that), my Grandmother with her Rosary, sitting in the rocking chair. And the weird thing is that he really should not have been drafted. He was really half blind and had bad knees and flat feet. However he was in college in Georgia. I heard my dad say a million times that he told Amby to come home to report for the draft et the exam and all. Because up in here in the north, the health standard was a much higher and he would have never passed or been accepted however they decide these things. He didn' t listen to anyone and reported in Georgia and then off he went. The rest is now as it is. We were just talking about it at his funeral, how that one choice whether it was lazyness or whatever, would have made a huge difference. Seeing his beautiful daughter (and all the family) cry in sorrow for the loss.