Posted on Jul 18th, 2009
by
Ted
How to answer this one?
So many different sorts of pain.
I remember quite clearly when I caught the last three fingers of my left hand in the chainsaw - when I looked at them after shutting down the saw, there were no nails, just a lot of blood. There was pain. How to describe it. It was like my awareness was being forced into ever more narrow bounds. Something in my head was getting signals from my fingers that were not at all pleasant - in fact the opposite of pleasant. Something to get away from.
After putting the chainsaw in the shed, and going back to the house, and calling my wife onto the deck, something in my consciusness relaxed a little, and at that point I fainted, and woke up 10 minutes later.
The following day I drove 6 hours to Greymouth, to work on a computer system there. They way to keep the throbbing to managable levels was to hold my left hand over my head. Each throb of blod pressure into my fingers felt like it threatened to overwhelm my awareness, but by holding the hand high, the effect was reduced, so that it was mostly just an annoyance.
There was jumping off the roof into some long grass, under which was a board with a 3 inch nail sticking up. Then standing on the board and wrenching my foot up to pull the nail back through. The pain of the event pushed into insignificance from the throbbing pain of the swelling, that went on for days, without relief.
There was standing on a giant purple sea urchin, and having the poison inflate my foot to the size of a football. On an Island, a day's travel from home. The physical pain mixed with the uncertainty, the lack of support - no doctor - needing to look after myself (none of the others with me knew any more than I did).
There was getting my skull split by a steel bucket falling from above, then the blood poisoning that set in 3 weeks later. More throbbing, loss of control, feeling like my arms, hands fingers, were all balloons, beyond my control. Feeling like a detached awareness floating, so little left to connect to or control.
Emotional pain is something else.
To have some situation occurring that is so not what I want. Like my mother suffering from cancer as her body's systems shut down, one by one, over weeks. To see her lose her sight, then most of her hearing, then her speech. To be at her side, holding her hand, knowing she wanted to communicate something to me, but not knowing what that something was.
To have an idea, that I believe can mean that no-one needs to die. That no one need suffer the pain of the loss of someone they love. To have that idea, yet not be able to communicate it to others in a way they get; in a way that moves them to coordinated action.
The sense of waste, of frustration, of anguish, of torment.
What else can I do?
What can I not do?
What can I do differently, more effectively?
What is the cost of this idea to my family?
What am I not giving my son, my daughter, my wife, my sisters, brother, nieces, nephews, ..... ?
The nagging doubt, that maybe there really is a right and wrong, and maybe I have got it so wrong? (Not often there, but sometimes adds it voice to the crowd.)
Physical pain can be handled by ceasing to resist it, by just accepting the information that is being given, instant by instant - it is resistance that causes the problems.
Emotional pain seems so much more complex.
It is like we want there to be some solid ground under our being - something reliable, but it seems like the whole house of our being is built on a thousand bamboo poles pushed down into the ooze below us.
If we push on any one of them, it sinks away, without any real substance, yet the little bit of resistance from each one contributes enough stability to hold our "house" above the mire.
It is so easy to say - to accept all that is, and resist nothing.
It is so much more difficult to do in practice.
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