Yes, I had a break-in. No, I haven’t become a Buddhist. But I did just finish reading David Shlim’s excellent memoir, A Gentle Rain of Compassion, which has led to contemplation of Tibetan Buddhist tenets and how they might apply – or not – to my current situation.
First, the break-in: it happened in a parking garage in the middle of the day in Portland, OR, where my mom and I were visiting family over Thanksgiving (my uncle, my cousin and her husband, and their adorable new baby!). Thieves smashed in my passenger rear window, and took everything that was in a bag. Unfortunately, that included my backpack with my computer in it, my mom’s backpack with her iPad, a bag with my extra layers, a duffle in the back containing three Oriental rugs of my step-grandmother’s that we had just retrieved from my uncle’s storage, and my tire chains (yep, they were in a bag, too)! Arrgh!
My immediate response was disbelief, and then dread as I realized what was missing, namely my computer. I then went into damage control mode – trying to remotely erase the computer, change passwords, file an insurance claim, and try to fix the window. We had to start driving back to CA the next morning, and no one had the window in stock. But my cousin’s hubby had a Shop-Vac and cleaned up all the glass, and I found a great way to cover up the window online – it took a whole roll of packing tape, but it kept us warm and dry through two days of driving in the rain!
As we got closer to California, my mom suggested that even though I was being very capable and productive and in control, it would be okay to be sad and frustrated and angry. My thought was, “What would be the point? Then I’d just be sad, frustrated and angry in addition to having to deal with it all!” But perhaps she’s right, so I’ve been experimenting with letting myself be angry that I lost the computer and have to spend all the time, energy and money to replace it and get the car fixed. It still doesn’t feel good to be angry at the folks who broke in – I have no idea what their situation is or what hardships they’re dealing with – but it did feel good to be angry that it happened!
That, of course, is in some contrast to what Dr. Shlim was sharing in his memoir. He spent more than 15 years living in Nepal, working as a doctor first at a high-altitude rescue post, and later running the world’s first destination travel medicine clinic in Kathmandu. He was drawn to the monks and monasteries, and eventually became a practitioner himself. Many of the monks or people he met were Tibetans who had fled the persecution of the Chinese, and had horrific stories of torture. One young man’s captors would strip him naked, douse him in water, and leave him tied outside every night in winter for a month straight – about this experience that most of us wouldn’t have even survived, the man simply said, “They just wanted to make us suffer. There was nothing we could do or say that would make them stop.” He and others with similarly haunting stories, or those who had lost digits to frostbite in the dangerous trek over the mountains to reach Nepal, were able to talk about their suffering in a way that seemed absent of self-pity or post-traumatic stress.
What on earth makes them capable of this? Dr. Shlim would say it is their training in meditation and Tibetan Buddhist teachings – many of them were monks or nuns in their home country and that is why they were targeted by the Chinese. The whole point of meditation is to learn how to separate your thoughts from yourself, to realize that it is our thoughts that create our suffering. We have to come to terms with the reality that everything is impermanent, both good and bad in our lives, and that our lives themselves will come to an end. We’ll get old, sick, and die – or maybe die first without getting to the old and sick part, but it will happen to us all. We don’t want to admit this, and this is what causes all our suffering. Our wishing for things to be other than they are. Or as Byron Katie would say, “When I argue with reality, I lose – but only 100% of the time.”
So which is it for me – anger or acceptance? I’m feeling like there’s room for both. I’m letting myself be angry about the break-in, because it did happen. But not to the point where it makes things worse. I’m no Buddhist practitioner, but I have been working on choosing my reactions to events more consciously. The computer is gone, so I might as well accept that and get myself a new one. (I’m in the fortunate position of having money saved, as the computer was old and I was planning to buy a new one soon.)
Did this help when less than two weeks later, while my car was parked in the driveway, I realized that thieves had tried to steal my catalytic converter? No! That resulted in definite anger and tears. They didn’t succeed in stealing the catalytic converter as I have anti-theft protection on it, but they did cut the oxygen sensor wires so now that has to be replaced, too. Grr! But one way of looking at it is that I just have some karma from a past life that needs to be worked out, and it’s showing up in the damage to and loss of my things. It’s my attachments to those things that cause me suffering – if I can let those attachments go, I don’t need to suffer as much. At least, that’s my takeaway – any misinterpretations of what I learned about Buddhism from Dr. Shlim’s book belong to me, not him (his book covers much more than what I’ve alluded to here).
As I was writing this, my new computer – which a friend of a friend helped me get a really good deal on – arrived! So, yes, it sucks that my car got broken into, my computer and other things stolen, and then my oxygen sensor wires cut – and I am also grateful for the support of my friends and family members, my ability to afford a new computer, and the timely insights of Dr. Shlim. And thanks to you, too, for being along on the journey with me!