Everybody Hurts
This morning, when going out to walk the dog, I discovered that somebody stole a cherished potted plant from my little street-side garden. Beloved geranium is gone!
Oh my god, the rage that swelled.
But, the rage is just one aspect of this grief. I bounced like a pinball, careening through all of grief’s various stages.
Denial. Maybe someone just moved it as a prank.
Bargaining. I should post a reward.
Acceptance. It is just a plant and maybe the person who took it thought I had put it out there for the taking.
Depression. Fuck this place. Stop the ride, I want to get off.
That last one sticks. It is my deepest rut. Where I settle, if there are no overriding conditions to steer me elsewhere.
Gotta do something to keep from getting drowned.
So imagine if you will, me, standing at a Temple Gate. The temple of cosmic truth, constructed from Indra’s Net. It contains everybody’s idea of god, and everybody’s idea of not god. Everything and everybody. Infinity.
At this imagined Temple Gate, on the edge of the infinite, I confess my anger. Rawrrrrr. Like a lion enraged at the zookeeper’s whip.
In rage, my vision is literally diminished. All I see are things that I want to smash. Oh… blind rage! Now I get it.
I begin to reach for the comfort of disappearing, but while at the Temple Gate, I know numbness is temporary.
The thing about the Temple Gate… it’s not like some magical wishing-fountain or ancient stone wall where prayers are heard… it is an imagined space that simply reminds us to pay attention, and then perhaps, shed light on to the situation.
Noticing. I remember that music calms the savage beast, and turn to my “what’s new” playlist. At the top is Lucius covering R.E.M’s “Everybody Hurts.”
“When you’re sure you’ve had enough
Of this life, well hang on”
Lucius are a duo whose harmonies have supported artists ranging from Pink Floyd to Brandi Carlile. Their voices combine in ways where two become one, and the result soars in ways that no single voice can achieve on its own.
R.E.M have been a lifelong cornerstone to many of the good things in my life. Beyond their music, they have physically and financially nurtured many of the people and causes that I love.
The song is five minutes of medicine.
As I walk away from the Temple Gate, having released my anger, I am filled with Mudita. Empathetic Joy… for the blessing of harmony. Joy, and gratitude, for the voices of creative artists bringing beauty into this world. And even Joy for the human who is now in charge of caring for the beloved potted geranium.
This loss that happened? It feels less important. It feels less like it happened to me, and more like it is something that simply happened in the little corner of infinity that I call “mine.”
