Dance your dance

I do not like my life. I have not liked it for quite a long time.

In the last week, I have shared this with quite a few people - my wife, our couples therapist, a close friend, the members of a new philosophy salon. I’ve even shared the flavour of it with a couple of acquaintances who asked, how are you doing, and instead of responding with the usual non-answer, I decided to be unfair and pretend that they actually wanted to know.

Before I continue to the dazzling insight that this suffering has delivered, a brief aside - when you tell people you dislike your life, you see something interesting about the status of suffering in ordinary life. Basically, there is very little space for it to just be - for it to exist as a fact without emotional valence or judgment. I see this in how I respond to my kids when they cry. Most of the time, I rush to find something that takes away their tears, something that makes them feel better. But I have begun to learn, mostly from Annika, or maybe Annika and I are learning it together, that quite often the wiser and more loving response is to let them cry. To be there, certainly, but to stand aside, to let them have their experience on their terms.

The spiritual teacher Adyashanti tells this story of asking his teacher, when does it get easier? How can I get to enlightenment quicker? And she replies, “Everybody has their dance in life. The whole thing is: Don't dance somebody else's dance, but dance your dance all the way out.”

In those terms, there is something interesting about our - my - usual response to someone’s suffering. Quite often, by rushing to help, what I am really doing is helping them to stop dancing their dance. And that means it’s much harder for them to dance all the way out.

You know, I was going to write more. But this suddenly feels like a finished thing. The words that needed to be said have danced their way out :)