I sometimes think that my life has proceeded by way of a series of breakdowns and reconstructions. Such episodes haven’t exactly been frequent in my life, but they have represented important turning points. There have been three times I can recall where I’ve hit emotional bottom, learned something important about myself, and found a release that led to significant growth taking place.
In each case there had been a long period of holding on to some pattern that had been causing me pain (usually unacknowledged). I’d been a tightly-closed bud. This was followed by a catalyzing event (in each case it involved being on retreat) in which I became fully aware of the pain I’d been causing myself. The pain of remaining closed became too much. Then there was a grand finale of emotional release and a spiritual awakening into greater wholeness and well-being. The bud opened, albeit painfully. Elizabeth Appell (aka Lassie Benton)’s quotation* — “…the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom” — seems to perfectly encapsulate that process.
…to my surprise, I found myself overcome by emotion. I’d try to say something and the words would get stuck in my throat, turning into inarticulate sobs.
I realized how important friendship was to me a few years after taking up Buddhist practice. I was on a retreat which had the theme of spiritual friendship (coincidentally the theme of last month’s blog). As part of the retreat we studied a series of talks on the theory and practice of friendship, or kalyana mitrata, and we also spent time with each other, as we do in my tradition, getting to know one other and developing friendships. (It’s not like that in all Buddhist traditions — sometimes retreatants are not allowed to talk to each other or even to make eye contact). All of that was great — the part of the retreat I was anxious about was where we were going to talk in small groups about the spiritual friendships in our lives.
Basically I thought that it just hadn’t happened for me — that spiritual friendship just wasn’t a significant part of my life. I mentioned the word anxiety in relation to this part of the retreat, but it wasn’t the terror of public speaking or the nervousness one experiences about revealing oneself to relative strangers that I was experiencing, it was more a kind of embarrassment at not having anything to say, while everyone else (I imagined) would.
The evening arrived when it was my turn to share and I started off by apologizing that I wasn’t going to be able to say much. But there were a few people who had helped me or attempted to befriend me, to various degrees of success, and I thought that I should at least say something about them. And to my surprise, I found myself overcome by emotion. I’d try to say something and the words would get stuck in my throat, turning into inarticulate sobs. I’d collect myself, let the emotion subside to the point where I could speak once again, and the same thing would happen again. And again.
Loneliness became my defense against loneliness.
I realized a number of things. I’d remained tight in a bud. I’d come to Buddhist practice because of painful experiences in which I’d lost friends and experienced loneliness and suffering. Those experiences revealed the world to be an unreliable place, and I was looking for a spiritual tradition that emphasized looking within for happiness. I thought that with Buddhism I’d found a way to close myself off from the world. A famous Buddhist saying was “Fare lonely as a rhinoceros horn.” And inspired by this kind of thinking I’d been resistant to opening up to friends. I was guarded and wary, and suspicious of looking outside of myself for happiness and well-being.
The isolation I was imposing upon myself created a deep sense of loneliness, but I managed to avoid acknowledging those feelings. After all I didn’t want to take the risk of developing and losing friends again. Loneliness became my defense against loneliness. So remaining tight in a bud was painful. But not painful enough to make me change.
It was in the very act of communicating with others that I came into a more intimate contact with myself.
It took two weeks spent on retreat, reflecting upon friendship — and more importantly experiencing friendship in the form of the small group in which we were sharing our stories — before I could really start to experience the pain of the closed bud. I always think it’s very significant that it was in the very act of communicating with others that I came into a more intimate contact with myself, that the moment in which I started to open up to others was the moment in which I opened up to myself and acknowledged my pain.
But the bud was now opening.
Difficult though it was to experience the pain that I’d managed up to that point to avoid, there was also a sense of the light finally making its way into the heart of the bud. I experienced gratitude towards those who had been kind to me in the past and who had tried to be a friend to me. And I could see how I’d limited myself, and how I could no longer keep doing that. I’d seen the risk of remaining tightly closed, and it wasn’t a risk I was prepared to take. I’d been stuck, but now (for a time at least) I was unstuck, free, an open and opening bud.
And in that moment, as I sat in a circle, I realized that I was being fully accepted. No one was judging me. No one was thinking less of me for having been a closed bud, or for having shown my vulnerability. Instead they were quietly and compassionately being there for me. We were a circle of opening buds, all of us having decided that the risk of remaining closed to each other was greater than the risk of opening up. We were open to each other, blossoming. And the reward of that was more than worth the pain of having opened up.
* This quote was originally attributed to Anais Nin, but it appear that these words are not found among her works and that the quote was actually composed by Elizabeth Appell (aka Lassie Benton). You can read the story here.
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Hi Stephen,
I'm truly delighted to hear your story! It seems that, like me, your self-imposed loneliness was a result of a lack of self-confidence. It's a terrible burden to carry around, that sense that we're not "good" enough to have friends. I'm glad that you're now free of that burden.
Hi Marcia,
I was so glad to read at the end of your comment that you'd found a job. I'm sure that will be helpful in many ways. Being unemployed can severely dent our self-confidence and hopefully you'll feel more of a sense of purpose and engagement in your new position -- and an opportunity to show your effectiveness. And the other benefit of course is social -- work is one of our most important ways of forming connections with other people.
And I sympathize with your "exile" in the South, where it can be much more difficult to find people interested in spiritual traditions other than Christianity. You might want to take a look at our Open Circle, which draws together a community of people interested in exploring Buddhist teachings without assuming that they want to become Buddhists. The Open Circle is based around a study text, and the point is to take the teachings, reflect on them together, apply them to everyday life, and share the results with the rest of the online community. It's much more than just a discussion forum, though. People have their own home page, for example, and so it really is very effective online community.
There's a link to more info on Wildmind's home page.
Hi Trish,
Thanks for commenting and for replying to Michel.
Michel -- I looked up your IP address and it looked like you're in Pennsylvania? (Honestly, technology can sometimes seem a bit creepy). Anyway, my local Buddhist Center is also a retreat center, and since it's in NH it's perhaps not too far for you to travel for a retreat. You can check it out at https://www.aryaloka.org. The folks there are really great.
I'm profoundly interested in pursuing this spiritual friendship and would be deeply grateful to hear of retreats or workshops that might foster it, in a tradition like yours that permits the exercise of friendship. I've been to one of the other kind and left after 45 minutes when the "no talking" rule was announced.
Hi Graycard,
I've been in Insight Meditation retreats which involved no communication (even eye-contact) and found it valuable, but that was after years of practicing in a more Sangha-based community. The value for me of the no-contact retreats is that it allows me to focus more on my own experience and also be less caught up in meaningless communication. But if I'd been a newcomer I'm not sure how I'd have got on. I think I would have found it depressing.
Most Tibetan traditions are pretty Sangha-based, as is Thich Nhat Hanh's movement, and of course the FWBO, but to some extent we have to work with what's available in our local area. There may well be Tibetan and Thich Nhat Hanh groups in your area.
All the best,
Bodhipaksa
Hi Marcia,
Just wanted to reinforce the idea that no matter where you go (yep, even in the deep South!), you will find spiritual kinship. It just takes longer in some places than others. You have to trust that there are good, kind people everywhere, and you never know how or when you may have the opportunity to meet them. Again, the opening of that tight little bud is required in order to be ready for all the experiences that the universe can offer you. If you feel you've been "exiled" to a place, it's hard not to convey that (even without realizing it) in your demeanor and in the extent to which you open yourself to new possibilities. What a wonderful twist of fate it would be if you found the closest friends of your life in this unexpected place! Stranger things have happened. I wish you all the best!
Bonnie
i am now being to blossom around being a grown woman and i do feel scared , fear of being laughed at bulllied attack , ( history ) it is time to move forward and let go of the past and be brave and confident and be beautiful inside and out as i am im just frightened.
I wish you all ove little opening precious buds of nature , god intented us to be happy and free.
This is why vulnerability is true strength...
Is it the way out of the bud :)
But it is seen as such only for those who have dared to blossom
Understand that those attacking you for daring to blossom are those tight in the bud, and suddenly you can meet attack and criticism with compassion and even contribution. And all of a sudden you are bearing fruit!
I was just searching for this powerful Anais Nin quote, when I stumbled across this wonderful essay. I have a good friend who is turning down a new job even though he hates his old one. I can tell he is miserable, but his misery is familiar, and as such has a certain power over him.
What we are familiar with, what makes us feel safe, can have power over us if we don't watch it.
I enjoyed your post - it was very thoughtfully written, and I was engaged the whole way through.
I wonder how I can help my friend see that this is a risk he must take. Life is too short to work a job you hate for paychecks that don't bring you any happiness, which is the only thing you really need.
-Colin
https://www.astanduplife.com
It's very hard to persuade someone to change when they're clinging to a particular experience. It's often more than clinging to a job, but also clinging to the sense of self that accompanies the job -- being a victim, feeling hopeless, eg. When you tell the person you think they're making a mistake they often end up clinging even more to the painful situation and the view of themselves that keeps them in that situation. Giving up trying to persuade may, paradoxically, be a way to help them move on. When your friend is no longer actively clinging, they're more able to be objective about what they're doing, and therefore more free to change. It may well be that simply encouraging your friend -- in a non-judgmental way -- to express how he sees his situation will help him to recognize his fear and begin to relax his clinging. Being in a hurry to get people to change rarely works -- it takes time and a certain amount of spaciousness, often, before people can start to move on. Or sometimes people really need to experience a crisis before they realize that they no longer have an option to let things go on as they have been.
I understand how our wounded egos can create loneliness, the very thing we want to avoid. It was a major self-defense mechanism for me for a few decades. Trying to hide behind a mask of invulnerability creates the very thing we fear - loneliness.
I must say though that while there was a series of events, some like yours, that lead me to being able to free myself from this self-imposed tight bud, what has ultimately set me free for the past 20 years from feelings of loneliness is knowing, truly knowing, my connection to Life/Source and loving and accepting myself as a result. It's easier to feel vulnerable when one does not have feelings of shame and self-rejection to hide. Loving the shadow and the light, integrating them, seeing them for what they are, is very powerful and takes courage. The fear of rejection now seems like the major illusion that it is.