“The essence of our practice can be described as transforming suffering into happiness. It’s not a complicated practice, but it requires us to cultivate mindfulness, concentration, and insight. First, we must come home to ourselves, make peace with our suffering, treat it tenderly, and look deeply at the roots of our pain. It requires us to let go of useless, unnecessary suffering and look closer at our idea of happiness. Finally, we must nourish happiness daily with acknowledgment, understanding, and compassion for ourselves and those around us. We offer these practices to ourselves, our loved ones, and the larger community. This is the art of suffering and the art of happiness. We either breathe, ease suffering, or generate joy. With each step, the flower of insight blooms.”
-Thich Nhat Hanh
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It was a hard night for Maria, me, and many others; it felt like I was trapped in a merry-go-round. I went around and around, fear, sorrow, surprise, anger, confusion, and some tears. I cried for the end of my idea of what America means (I always think of my grandmother; America saved her life, and I suppose mine, when she came to our country.)
So many people are happy this morning, and so many are suffering. I am one of them. But I have learned that when I suffer, suffering is not all there is. Happiness belongs to now, not some other place. But there is no happiness without suffering, as I have repeatedly learned. Here is another chance to remind me that grief and joy are not separate.
I sometimes wish I were a donkey or dog, going about business without concern for humans’ complexity.
I don’t understand what happened last night; I feel oddly removed from my country. I will need to understand what happened before I can truly move beyond it, which I intend to do. I need to rethink what America means. There will be a lot of good to come from it.
I decided to move forward and think about what this night would mean for Maria, me, our farm, and our country. I can’t speak for millions, only for me. America was always an idea for me, one of the best ideas ever. We are not seeing the end of America, but our shared values and ideas about her seem to be gone for good.
I love my country, but I must try to figure out what my country is now. I am hopeful.
I intend to turn this pain into good, not hate, as I have always tried to do. Grace is not about dealing with what you want but with life as it is.
My ego got a battering. Hubris can pop like a balloon. I was way off.
I always understood most Americans’ feelings, but I had no idea what was about to happen was going to happen.
As a result, I intend to step away from this world; it is not my world, and I want to focus on the things I love and do well.
I am surrounded in my town by a sea of people who think differently than I do. But these people have been good and welcoming to me in my years here. Many good people see the world differently than me. Everyone has treated me well and respectfully, and I will not succumb to judging or condemning anyone for disagreeing with me.
Perhaps that is Commandment One. Keep working to be a better human being; great opportunities exist.
I got up to think about my new Commandments after the long night:
My commandments:
One: I will not become a hater of anyone who disagrees. That is a poison. I want to respond to yesterday with grace, hope, disappointment, honesty, sadness, and acceptance.
Two: The Army Of Good was born in the Spring of 2016 as a way of doing good rather than hating and arguing. It continues to thrive and do good, and my response to yesterday will be to do more good, the same as before. Suffering can be turned into good. Then, it makes sense to me.
Three: My commitment to the Cambridge Food Pantry is deep, intense, and renewed. Jesus pleaded with us to help those with nowhere to go, and I take that to heart. The pantry work has been a great gift to me and others.
Four: I re-commit myself to supporting my wife in her life and work and supporting women in their search for freedom, equality, and dignity. There is no going back.
Five: I cherish my blog and will continue to work on it every day and improve it in every way. I am also committed to keeping the blog a safe place free of cruelty and hatred. I have finally learned to quench the fire the blog has absorbed inside me.
Six: I am committed to developing my work as an artist through flower photos and photography. Something important is happening inside of me. Thanks so much for your support.
Seven: I am committed to living with animals and nature on Bedlam Farm. They heal and enrich me, and so does the natural world.
Eight: I am committed to a lifetime of meaning while it lasts. That means devoting much of my remaining life to helping those with nowhere to go.
Nine: I am committed to believing that people are good and wish to do good.
Ten. I am committed to the happy lives Maria and I are living together. For the first time in my life, I have everything I want or need; there is nothing I yearn for that I do not have. Politics can never do that for me; I leave them behind until it makes sense.
Politics will never mark my identity of well-being; I will never stick a label on me that chokes off thought.
