Finding a New Path

Yesterday, M came in. M is very difficult. He is a professor with migraines that are impossible. They come every time he reads. He has a vision problem, and he can't see very much. He can see, but poorly. The more serious issue is the severe pain of migraine that occurs with reading. He did well as a professor. Now, with his reading problem, he can't do it anymore. He's going through a bitter divorce at the same time, because "when it rains it pours". Of course, there isn't much that can be done for him. I give him some pills which cause a decrease in his suffering.

But he is interesting. He creates almost all of his suffering himself. Not the medical illness -- he doesn't create that. What he creates is his response to it. He is very busy feeling his loss. His marriage is a big loss. But his bigger loss is the work. It's the prestige, the sense of value, intelligence, contribution, importance and, believe it or not, being busy. We say we don't like being busy. But we really do like it. It takes us away from sitting around and having to think about life, about how we're really doing, what we're really doing. Most of us don't really spend much time doing what's really most important. I know of very few people who spend more time with those they love than they do with their job. But they think that they value their loved ones more than they value their job, or money. So we like being busy to avoid looking at reality too long.

In order to decrease suffering, M wants to replace his career. He wants a similar career. That's because he wants the same sort of reward. He wants the same sort of "success": prestige and importance. But everything he thinks of requires his eyes. Everything he thinks of is academic. He wants to use his intellectual talent like he's always done. It's very scary to think about life without that particular tool. So he doesn't want to jump off that cliff. He doesn't want to confront the world without his academic credentials and background to support him. He doesn't want to start life all over; and he hates the thought of developing a new way to create importance and meaning.

Illness takes things from us. It takes physical things from us. But we choose whether or not we'll give it more. We can give it our happiness. We can give it our mind. We can give it our spirit. Or we can give it nothing more than what it has taken. We can give it only the physical piece of our body that it has rightfully claimed. Respect for illness means that you accept what it takes, and you give that up. You give up your leg or your eye. It doesn't mean that you don't fight illness. That's part of respecting it. Illness comes and it plays a game with us. We didn't ask to play. It's like when someone comes and teases you on the playground. You have to tease back. Some of the things they say are true. And so we have to accept that. But we have to tease back or we'll become sad and hurt. The things that were said that were true that hurt are important. Those are the things we have to look at about ourselves. Those are the things we have to consider improving. The "teaser" shows us what we need to do in order to grow more as a person. It's not that we want to be teased when we're on the playground. It's just that we have to be careful how we respond. People don't want illness. But it comes to play with us. So we have to respond until the play time is over.

We must give up what is rightfully taken and no more. But if we plan to take the least suffering, the illness has to teach us growth. What would you do if you had to give up your academic prestige, your brilliant thinking power? I think it's about people value. We know that babies are so precious, don't we? So where does that precious go that we have to prove our value in some other way? I don't know. We just lose respect for that. My orchids have value, but they don't do anything. They just live. Just being alive creates a value for the babies. But the elderly, demented people who just live aren't of the same value to most of us. It's a terrible thinking pattern, but I think it's true. It's not universal, but it's very prevalent in America. If we can't know that we're precious like an orchid or a baby just for living, then we're in for some great suffering.

People are so precious. They aren't precious when they're newborn babies. People are precious all of the time. They're precious because they're alive. They're precious because they exist. They're even, according to me, precious after they die. They don't have to be a movie star, or famous, or successful, or this or that or anything. They just have to be. If someone is, then they are precious. If we could all only see that, things would be better. We probably wouldn't kill each other so often. We couldn't have genocide. If we believe that our value disappears without some activity, then we can just throw away or even kill all of the people who aren't doing something. They aren't worth anything. We can throw out whatever isn't worth anything. This is what growing we need when we lose a piece of body from an illness that makes us unable to do something that we think is the thing that makes us valuable. We need to grow to see that we are all wonderful.