A Great Fall into Practice

A Great Fall into Practice

As most of you know, I recently suffered a serious bicycling accident. “This is all practice,” I remarked to Shinzan, in hospital. He suggested that I write on it for this newsletter.

A glorious day of freedom reclaimed followed our prolonged seclusion, vaccinations opened doors. I launched on my favorite Bayshore bicycle route. My bike and I danced, all senses drinking deeply.

Suddenly, an obstacle, escaping my eye, grabbed my wheels. The bike abruptly tumbled under me, and I was thrust into the air. C R U N C H. the feel of mangled bones in my chest. Pain welled up, exploded from my back, now flattened on jagged pavement. Congestion filled my chest.

I saw, first one face, female, then two men, voices asking questions I could vaguely process. These good Samaritans lifted me into a truck, bounced and pummeled me home. There Jay, house mate, helped me, hooked up an Uber ride. I jostled in agony to Kaiser, a brief stop-over, morphined and examined. Soon, trundled to UCSD, wincing at every lurch…

I broke eight ribs, sustained further severe internal injuries. A chest tube sucked blood and other fluid, the lung bruised, partially collapsed. Admitted into ICU the first two days, I spent a total of twelve in the hospital, five more in a nursing facility, follow-up at home. Weeks turned into months of healing.

Myriad Buddhist practice skills and teachings that helped could comprise a lengthy tome. I’ll attempt a few highlights. Disclaimer: I’m far from perfect. I whined a little. I struggled. But there were skillful actions I did manage. The journey was smoothed.

Pain

Impact! the magic carpet under my wheels, yanked. Slam on blacktop, the Stop… a “sharp point”, in Pema Chodron’s words, square in the face. And Click! the training engaged. Ms. Chodron writes to us how we must lean into it. And, lean I did. Invoking all I’ve been learning, I felt my way into the sensations, the textures, colors, heat and cold hardness, the throbs and changes, every beat of the way.

This practice, first, on the cushion, teaches us how to let go, just a little, then a little more. We deal with thoughts, can refrain from getting on the thought train, develop tools to let go of other things. Before my daily Buddhist meditation practice, as an acting teacher I often repeated, “Tension is the enemy, not fear.” In the language of Buddhism, and 12 Step recovery, it’s not eliminating or somehow rising above: fear, anger, thoughts, or pain. We face it. Pema tells us, lean into the sharp point(s) of what we cannot control. Explore it, not as “my pain.” but as, “this is Pain.” There lies the opportunity to deal with its control on us. We can control our response, set ourselves free. A technique I got from various yoga-oriented actors’ exercises: Inhale into the place where the tension, (and pain, both) reside. Feel it just as it is. (no more, no less.) Again, exploring such as: texture, location, all details. Now, exhale the tension out.  This technique can prevent pain from owning us. Looking back, I can claim some success. When I didn’t, I suffered. At times I found I was schooling the nurses on what I was doing. They paused with me as I breathed in anticipation, relaxed out before we would make a move. However, I was less skillful with anticipated pains than those experienced in the moment. I repeatedly made it more in my head than it turned out to be. Even then the practice helped. Catching my head overdoing it, I could shake it off, give a little self-forgiveness, put down that load, move on. Get back in flow, Mushin.

Hindrances

We are familiar with the various hindrances during meditation. Pain in extremis can be overwhelming. I can’t report. During hospital procedures that gave great pain, I was dealing with the pain. Relaxing, bedded, comfortable, low pain position, I meditated. In my regular practice I have a couple of mild conditions with which I deal. One, restless leg syndrome. When the leg twitches come, I’ve tried riding above, around. I do better when I just accept what is, say, oh well, I’m not going to get complete stillness. I’ll have to include this with general awareness of my body, what’s happening now. Now I have a post-accident light tenderness in my shoulder, stiffness through my neck and, at times the side of my head. It, like the leg seizures, just interferes. I can’t control it, just accept it, and do what I can.

What do patients with great pain do? I’ve read (especially Who Dies? By Stephen and Ondrea Levine) about patients who learn to practice through terrible pain, cancer and other terminal afflictions. I have but a slight clue. I don’t know if I would possess that strength.

Patience and Acceptance

They walk hand in hand

As I hobbled in the open gate (reference intended) of hospital, I practiced a movement, so familiar us in recovery from addictions: Surrender. I threw myself into the arms of care, “I trust you all completely. Do what you will.”  My inner mantra, “Heel… Heal…Heal.  I left the Internet activities, concerns behind, took a reader, and phone just for occasional talk/text. Through pain, lurching, pummeling, poking, I kept my eye on the calm. I glided into some sesshin/retreat mode, a gentle concentration, refuge within, where I felt safety. My body will find the way, expel the detritus, repair and eventually rejoin when we’re ready.

As hours, days crawl, blur into one another, unmoving, observing all, time shifts, we glide down into a state of rest. Accepting is easy when one has nowhere to go, right? Can’t move anyway. So, here’s Mushin, Going with the flow…

Lessons: Briefly, I had a roommate behind the curtain, trapped in addictive arguing. In his hostile environment, he maintained a constant tirade, berating the nurses, all care givers with the misfortune to serve him. I shook my head, remembered years ago, another hospital detoxing, broken me saw care givers as adversaries, I was ill equipped, miserable. Then I began my practice…

Another one, expressing my gratitude, awe at the humanity of all the nurses. Most embody that thing that cannot be taught, genuine warmth, caring.

However, this is the tale of Tanya the Terrible. Suffice to say, she just scolded, shoving, causing more pain. Aggression, one act of incompetence. When she yelled at me, shoved me painfully, another nurse saw it, shook her head.  I observed my mind desiring fight mode; I backed away. Right action was not to engage. I accepted what is, and gently found the way to work along, not against. Change will come. She will go away. She did, and no one got more hurt.

At home a month, now three, still working, strength, rebuilding lung. The slow rate, often unmeasurable, drags. A subtle depression arrived. “Tired of this!” Acknowledging, talking through with another helped. I brought it up with Shinzan. He bore witness. His understanding acceptance helped me to accept it. The conversation progressed. He suggested reading Aging as a Spiritual Practice: a Contemplative Guide to Growing Older and Wiser. by Lewis Richmond. I’m looking at the Dalai Lama’s Advice on Dying, And living a Better Life

Leads to Attitude

One nurse sees them all: Fit, lean and strong seemingly the epitome of health, compared to others overweight, maybe aged, some smokers, etc. health compromised severally, but have a burning desire to beat this thing, the latter is the one who heals quickly.

And, “attitude of gratitude.” I do gratitude, through my 6+years of recovery from alcohol, in Buddhism. It’s easy. I have a present, Life. Now. In this moment.

And:

Sangha, Family and Me

Lucky guy, family checked in daily. Gratitude overflows to all of you, my sangha. Your thoughtfulness surprised. Warm thanks to you who visited, your gifts, your warm heart, genuinely caring about me. God, until I experienced it, I had no idea how powerful! Unfathomable difference. I came back, not to a lonely place, a home. Generous folk looked after things while I was away, an abundance of loving caring thoughts when I arrived in the Sweetwater community.

I went through a deep dive into myself, for healing, now reach outward again.

With deep respect for all the nurses, I can learn from my sangha members, professionals and volunteers in the medical area: all you teachers, here, New York, knowing the afflicted and dying.   

We have brilliant Dharma teachers, each unique, informed, wise. yet there are messages that repeat. I have no new offerings, only repetition, tools you’ve studied. But our practice is a combination of deep learning, and skill training. Training is about repeating, again and again, one breath, one phrase, one beat at a time is how we learn. That is why it’s called practice.

Blair Mushin Whitcomb 9/17/21