Nervous Breakdown

Today started out well enough or at least normal.  I took my wife to work, came home and did my morning meditation, and then watched a video of the Dalai Lama from his visit to Louisville in 2013.

A little while ago I suddenly felt like I was having a nervous breakdown so I went to the park for a walk.  The park was cold, dreary, and lonely.  I saw one or two other people but mostly it was just the ducks, geese, and me.

When I got home there was a letter in my mail box encouraging me to plan my cremation now in order to beat future price increases.

What set off my momentary breakdown?  I can't find my passport.  In 2005 I went to France and had to get a passport for the first time.  I haven't needed it since so I stashed it somewhere and now I can't find it.  I think I gave it to my wife a couple of years ago when we were thinking of going to Mexico.  However, she won't own up to that so today I once again looked for it.  I have hundreds of books, containers full of pictures from my entire life, boxes of letters I have received over the years, and a number of hand written journals.  In other words I have personal possessions from my entire life stashed in closets, drawers, and possibly within the pages of books.  I seem to have everything except my passport.  I tell myself that all geniuses have clutter.  Someday when my granddaughter or someone else writes my biography they will appreciate all this documentation.

Today it has been one month since I retired.  The time has flown by.  I feel like I should be more productive but as I look around, the house seems trashed and I don't have the energy to do anything about it.  I really want to take a nap.  I would also like the sun to shine and the temperature to warm up.  I don't recommend retiring in the dead of winter.  My original plan was to do it in the spring.

I know today's anxiety will pass.  I didn't sleep well last night and this may all be due to that.  I think I will take that nap now....

The Struggles Of Life

As I read from the journals of Thomas Merton I am reminded of his daily struggles as he lived his life.  I began reading the books of Thomas Merton when I was 19 years old.  Even as a young man I quickly felt a connection with him and his words seemed to often reflect my own feelings.  In later years I realized we had similar personalities and that many of his struggles were also my struggles.

We all struggle although some people are unaware of their own struggles.  They plow through life and don't reflect too much on their experience.  Those of us who are more introspective types often tie ourselves up in knots as we constantly ruminate on the meaning, or lack of meaning, in our lives.  The writings of Richard Rohr have taught me that whoever and whatever we are only gets deeper and more intense as we get older.  Today I am more who I am than I was ten years ago.  Unfortunately this also means that many of my insecurities are more ingrained.

Much of my life I thought I was "normal" until I realized there was no such thing as normal.  Although I have never thought I was better than anyone else, I have always felt different than most other people.  Over time I've come to believe and understand that all lives are complex even if an individual doesn't realize or accept their own complexity.

What are my struggles?  Like Merton I've always had a longing for the "other".  On a spiritual level I suppose this is a longing for God.  It could also be a longing for meaning.  As I have gotten older the idea of God has gotten very blurry for me.  Who or what is God?  I no longer know.  The pious spirituality of my childhood doesn't work for me anymore.  Another struggle is that something about me seems lacking.  I never feel as though I am enough as I am.  Why have I not been more successful in life?  I am not talking about job titles or paychecks.  For me true success is about happiness, contentment, and feeling valued and loved by others.  I probably should feel all of these things but most days I simply don't.  I also have a fear of being ordinary and not making a difference.  I have a strong need to matter and not be taken for granted.  In addition, retirement has added a fear of being forgotten.  All of this makes me think I am much more insecure that I ever thought.  I have always thought I was a strong person because I have been able to deal with the true challenges in my life and I've had patience with life's inconveniences.  I get impatient with people who are emotionally fragile and unable to deal with things.

In spite of my struggles I do have the capacity to recognize those Zen moments where life is perfect, if only for a brief time.  We all sometimes want to scream, as depicted in the famous Edvark Munch painting shown above.  I think much of the challenge of dealing with our personal struggles is because they are usually invisible to other people.  How we appear to others on the outside is not always how we really are on the inside.        

The Gift Of Time

Most of my life time seemed like the enemy.  I lived by the clock.  It seemed every decision I made was based on what time it was.  Time often held me prisoner.  In these early days of my retirement time now seems like a gift.  I haven't worn my watch since I stopped working.  Many have used the analogy that time is like a river.  If this is true then I am now swimming with the current.  Most of my life I felt as though I was swimming against the current.  Instead of feeling constricted by time I now feel as though I am living in the spaciousness of time.  

I now have time to breathe.  I now have sacred leisure.  My meditation practice is back on track.  Books are getting read.  Music is being listened to and enjoyed.  Walks are being taken.  Chores are getting completed without being stressed out or exhausted.  I now can sit in coffee shops and visit bookstores.  This morning I was in awe of a beautiful sunrise.

My newfound gift of time also includes the gift of solitude.  Most of my days I am alone.  I can think and be more contemplative.  I sometimes feel as though I am back in the monastery.  More than ever I am living the kind of life I want and need.

I am happy to be back into writing on a daily basis.  While still working I was getting to a point where I was brain dead and only had the energy to maintain basic life support functions.  Now I find myself with more and more ideas that I can write about.  I hope there are people who enjoy what I write, or who can identify with the thoughts I am sharing.  I love it when people enjoy my writing.  Of course, I write as much for myself as for other people.  Writing is how I process my thoughts and feelings.  I can be more honest and open now though not as honest and open as I would sometimes like to be.

My thanks to Salvador Dali for the painting called "The Persistence Of Memory".  It conveys the idea for me of time melting away.  It seems ironic to me that as the days of my life are closer to the end than to the beginning, the days of my life seem more like a gift. 

The Reclining Buddha

 

One of my favorite Thomas Merton reflections comes from The Asian Journal of Thomas Merton.  It recounts his visit to the reclining Buddha located in what was then called Polonnaruwa, Ceylon.  This is also one of my favorite images of Buddha.

Merton writes in his journal.....

"I am able to approach the Buddhas barefoot and undisturbed, my feet in wet grass, wet sand.  Then the silence of the extraordinary faces.  The great faces.  The great smiles.  Huge and yet subtle.  Filled with every possibility, questioning nothing, knowing everything, rejecting nothing, the peace not of emotional resignation but of Madhyamike, of sumyata, that has seen through every question without trying to discredit anyone or anything...without refutation...without establishing some other argument.

Looking at these figures I was suddenly, almost forcibly, jerked clean out of the habitual, half-tied vision of things, and an inner clearness, clarity, as if exploding from the rocks themselves, became evident and obvious".  

Isn't this what we all want to experience?  As we go through our lives trying to make sense of the world and our own experience of life, don't we deeply long for the experience of being "jerked clean out of the habitual, half-tied vision of things"?  Is there ever a point in life when we know the truth of things?  Is there ever a point where we have an inner clearness and clarity and life makes sense?

My entire life has felt like I have been doing nothing but stumbling along whatever path I am on.  In many ways I've had a good life and some wonderful experiences.  However, I would be lying to myself and to you if I said my own life made sense to me.  I have more that I need or want of many things and little of what I want or need in other things.  I have tried to be content but often feel I have just settled for what is.  Life at 66 doesn't make any more sense than it did at 26.  Perhaps some day before I leave the planet I will experience a "Great Awakening" that will open my eyes, my mind, and my heart and I will be "jerked clean out of the habitual, half-tied vision of things".   

Remembering

Now having the time to pursue some of my interests, I am reminded how much I enjoy reading from the journals of Thomas Merton.  My interest in Merton began as a young man when I was living in a Franciscan community in 1970.  One of the friars gave me a copy of Merton's The Sign Of Jonas.  It was the first Thomas Merton book I ever read.  It was a journal of approximately five years in Merton's life that also described in vivid detail the life of the monastery in the late 1940's and early 1950's.  It began for me a life long love affair with monastic life, a life that I still find attractive 45 years after leaving it.  The Sign Of Jonas was the reason I left the Franciscan community and entered the Abbey of Gethsemani, the same monastery where Merton lived and wrote The Sign Of Jonas.

These days I am also reminded that I like classical music.  As I write these notes Beethoven's "Brandenburg Concerto's" plays in the background.

It should come as no surprise to anyone who knows me that I am loving these early morning hours that retirement allows me to have.  I have always been a morning person, even when I was working full time.  Morning's have always seemed sacred to me.  I am still getting up early and once I am alone the first thing I do is sit in silence for 20 minutes.  I am usually holding my favorite coffee mug and the hot coffee warms my hands.  My meditation is followed by some serious reading and often some classical music in the background.  Later in the day when I might be feeling a little sluggish, I will listen to some rock and roll or go to the park for a walk.  At some point in the afternoon I try to get in another meditation session.  Yesterday I attended an introduction to meditation session at the Passionist Earth & Spirit Center.  They are offering a 10 week course that I am considering.

As soon as Beethoven is finished I need to do some chores.  Each day I try to do something that might be considered constructive.  I am resistant to retiring from one employer to become an employee of my wife but my new freedom does make it easier to do some chores that previously needed to be done...or not done...around my full time work schedule.

Even with this gift of time that retirement has given me, the hours and the days seem to be flying by at an alarming rate.  The perception that time seems to increase in speed the older you get is very real. My meditation is centered on the practice of mindfulness.  Among other benefits, mindfulness can help to slow down time.  Being in the moment seems to make the moment last.  Like Maxwell House coffee, I want each moment of my life to be "good to the last drop".

Walking

In approximately two months I will be 67 years old.  I have the body to prove it.  Besides the normal wear and tear, I was diagnosed with diabetes 15 years old and I've suffered with significant intestinal issues most of my adult life.  I rarely get sick but I do feel the aches and pains of aging.  If my body could be sold, you could probably get it for 50% off at a scratch and dent sale.  I lean towards passive activities like reading, listening to music, watching films, and being what some people call a "couch potato".  I was an active child who played sports and rode many miles on my bicycle but as I got older I grew more sedentary.  Working in an office for over 30 years did not help.  When I received my diabetes diagnoses I began to take my health more seriously.  I watched my diet, lost a lot of weight, and tried to walk as much as I could.  When I say walk, I do not mean hiking the Appalachian Trail.  I mean walking around my office, the streets of downtown, and now a local park.  My walks are not strenuous but I am out of my chair and moving.

I happened upon a small book by Henry David Thoreau called Walking.  My idea of a walk and Thoreau's idea of a walk are two different things.

"If you are ready to leave father and mother, and brother and sister, and wife and child and friends, and never see them again, if you have paid your debts, and made your will, and settled all your affairs, and are a free man, then you are ready for a walk".

I am just a recently retired man with some time on his hands who wants to take a walk in the park every day in order to get some exercise, breathe some fresh air, loosen my stiff joints, and get my blood pumping.

Yesterday as I walked in the park I remembered times when I lived in a Trappist monastery as a young man.  The monastery had 2,000 acres of fields, lakes, and woods.  Hiking was recreation.  I spent much of my free time, and monks had lots of free time, walking in the woods, around the lakes, and up and down the hills.  I did have one scary experience with another monk when we got very lost. It was nearly dark when we found our way back to the monastery.  We barely made it on time for evening Vespers.  This reminds me of some favorite quotes....

"I have never been lost.  I was, however, confused once for about two weeks".
-Daniel Boone

"All who wander are not lost".
-J.R.R. Tolkien

If it doesn't rain, as it is supposed to do today, I will be back in the park, doing what Thoreau also calls "sauntering".

Out Of Sight, Out Of Mind

I once read the following....

You wouldn't worry so much what other people thought of you if you knew how little other people thought of you.

One of the things I realized at the funeral home visitation for my mother is how few close friends I really have.  Only one person from my former employer came to the funeral home.  Several others who are long time friends stopped by and another who could not personally be there asked family members to stop by on their behalf.  I know many, many people but have few intimate friends.  This is largely my own fault as I am a very introverted and withdrawn person.  People seem to like me but I admit that I am not very outgoing.  Nearly five years after his death I still feel the loss of my friend Dennis.  When he was still alive we were very close and I had hoped that someday we would be retired together.  Three weeks into my own retirement I feel like I have fallen off the face of the earth.  This is not all bad.  I am truly loving my new lifestyle, especially my quiet mornings at home.  The neighborhood where I live is virtually empty of people during the daytime.  All I see is the occasional UPS or FedEx truck making a delivery.  If I am paying attention I might see the mailman walk past my window.  Even when I went to a public park on Monday it was virtually empty of people.

Am I lonely?  Not really.  Do I feel forgotten?  A little.  Over the many years I worked I was mostly in leadership positions.  People seemed to love me to the point that many acted like they couldn't work if I wasn't their boss.  When I announced my retirement some people seemed genuinely sad and a few others were stressed.  However, I learned over the years that people quickly get over you and they move on with their lives.  There is life for most people even if Michael Brown is not in it.

I will need to work on being more outgoing and engaged with life.  This morning I signed up for a meditation class at the local Passionist Earth and Spirit Center.  Last year I attended an all day Enneagram workshop there and enjoyed it very much.

Like Bilbo Baggins I am off on an adventure.  To have an adventure you must first leave your house.

The picture shown above of Gandalf and Bilbo Baggins hangs in my room at home where I spend most of my time and where these thoughts originate.