Tropical Zen

I’m trying *not* to think about actual politics today. I’m fearful of the result, whether stolen, tricked or legitimate. I’m already an anxious person with a shaky sense of hope; paying close attention to the news* and vote counts is not going to make it better. It’s all one great big anxiety-inducing show; the numbers will be the same whether I watch them or not.

This isn’t physics, where the observer effect will cause the election to be greatly altered by my singular addition to the millions of people already doing the observing. We could also see it as a thought paradox, like Schrödinger’s Cat . This was intended to point out the ridiculousness of quantum thought, but it’s still a very useful tool for seeing exactly how each version of quantum thought plays out.  I’m thinking that the same kind of ridiculousness is happening with the US presidential election–that Obama both is and is not President-Elect until we open the box (the Electoral College votes are tallied, and then the Supreme Court casts the only twleve that count) and that my anxiously watching the outside of the box won’t help either me or Obama.

I prefer to try to think about it from a zen perspective: there is no observer.
Now if only I could remember that all the time.

* “These findings demonstrate that watching the news on television triggers persisting negative psychological feelings that could not be buffered by attention-diverting distraction (i.e., lecture), but only by a directed psychological intervention such as progressive relaxation.”

My sister’s husband broke his spine last Sunday, but his spinal cord seems to be intact, thank the Lords of Kobol.

My sister has always been my ally, and except for that awkward period of hero worship/clothes stealing that happened when we were kids, we’ve always been fairly close. She is the most awesome mom I know–I’ve actually seen her apologize to her kid when she was mistaken about something, like it was No Big Deal. I have no idea where she got that from, our parents never did anything of the kind.

I started on my gender path, and she said in no uncertain terms that I’d have to get a legal no-contact order to keep her away from me; a little thing like gender wasn’t going to get in her way. I do love her. Best person I’m related to, hands down. (Although, except for our 3 other siblings, that’s *really* not saying much. Still, Oldest Brother sets the bar pretty high.)

I love my sister. Everybody has one thing that they value more than anything else, and when you understand that one thing, that person’s life choices make a lot of sense. My sister’s thing: Loyalty.

It’s weird, because I’m not sure I understand where she gets the information she uses to choose where her loyalties lie; but for her, the choices she’s made have generally been good ones, and she’ll stick it out no matter what. No Matter What, unless they try to harm her Family. She gets so very much pleasure from her loyalty, like a feeling that she’s doing something Right and Honorable.

She is. Maybe I should get her a medal.

I’m worried for my brother-in-law, though. I’ve lived with 13 years of chronic pain, pain and sleeplessness and rage and fear; sometimes shaking my ineffectual fists at god, often declaring that there is no such being. I would not wish this on my worst enemy. I would not even wish this kind of pain and heartache on George W Bush, though it’s an occasional fantasy of mine that he feel some pain for all that he’s caused. That’s one of the things about pain, though — it’s not just. It’s not something you get because you deserve it.

But when you have chronic pain, nearly everyone who really sees your suffering will wonder at some point what you did to deserve being in so much pain. I wondered for nearly ten years.

I’m afraid for him, and for her; I’m also afraid for me. *I* don’t want to have to see someone I care about go through this, whatever “this” really is. Everyone involved is scared, and the job I’ve set for myself is (as usual) to go in, be rational and attentive and listen, to try to use the right words to help my sister heal, at least, so that she can continue to be the pillar of strength for her spouse and their 2 kids. To be funny and ease some of the weariness. To install a new window for the air conditioner. Maybe even to make dinner, or let the girls color in my tattoos with felt markers.

It’s good to meet with situations that scare us, to take a deep breath, feel it, and go ahead anyway.

So say we all.

This evening I was talking with the owner of a restaurant I enjoy. He was sad that so many people have been so grumpy lately, presumably because we’re having another June-uary and it’s pretty unpleasant outside. But he was struck by how very much I was enjoying my meal; and I was, very much so. Not exactly a When-Harry-Met-Sally kind of thing, just … smiling, and tasting, and really experiencing the flavors and smells in front of me. I was having a moment of joy, and then another, and another, eating one of my favorite dishes. It’s kind of a fried soft tofu with a sweet onion/ mushroom/ cardamom sauce.

What I noticed, really, was that joy is what makes all the pain worth it. We can’t escape pain, even though we may try very hard indeed, and many of us suffer terribly. Maybe we’re suffering because the clouds rolled in about seven feet off the ground back in October and we haven’t seen the sun in eight months; maybe we’re suffering because we’re afraid of losing something important, that what we have will be taken from us; maybe we’re just lonely.

So with all this pain, all this suffering, why do we keep at it? Do we even know?

Sometimes I don’t.

But this evening, as I relished my meal, I finally understood that the whole point of it all is to remain alive so that we can experience joy. No matter how much we’ve suffered, we can still touch joy–even though most of the time, we can’t hold on to it. That’s the miracle. That’s the point. And it gets to keep happening, as long as we’re open to it.

I’m reminded of my previous musings about gratitude, and how mine is broken. I have been of the opinion for many years now that gratitude is something that, once offered, can later be demanded, and so it has been hard for me to offer it. I think maybe I’ve had the wrong idea all along, that maybe gratitude is really just directional joy. My restaurant-owning friend was so pleased with my enjoyment that he gave me some melon slices as a free dessert, and I enjoyed those, too.

If *that* is gratitude, well, I could see myself really enjoying that.