A Regretful Body
I had sent a message to Mae Neecha about a contemplation I had on regret. Here I want to share the original email, and her reply, as it prompted renewed considerations of rupa, sickness and atta which I will delve into in subsequent blogs.
____________________________________________________________________________________
Original Email to Mare Neecha:
I wanted to do a quick write-up of a different regret contemplation I had begun considering on retreat. I have fleshed-it out a bit more, and thought I would share, since, why not 😉. But more because it brings me squarely to a topic I’m not sure I have closely considered enough, the dukkha specific to self-belonging. Or maybe just self belonging in general – with feeling this time.
The background: Back when I had covid, I took Paxlovid. I cleared the infection quickly and, per CDC guidelines at the time, I exited quarantine/masking after I tested negative on day 5, took a second test 48 hrs later that was also negative. A few days later, I started having a sore throat and mucus again. I wrote it off as allergies. That night, I went to a concert, unmasked. The next day, still having symptoms, I decided to covid test again before some friends came over. I was positive. I had rebounded.
It has been weighing so heavily on my heart that I went out, unmasked, and exposed all those folks in the concert hall. I blame myself for writing off those early symptoms as allergies. Especially because Eric had a Paxlovid rebound as well and that is when he got me sick. It wasn’t just some abstract possible statistic risk out there, it happened to me. Ironically, part of my reasoning when I started getting symptoms again was, “2 super ‘rare’ Paxlovid rebounds in one house, what are the chances?”…
Of course, in my heart, I know that if I knew I was sick, I would not have gone to that concert and exposed others. But still, I was blaming myself for not having a high enough level of suspicion of symptoms. I blamed myself for not knowing. And I felt especially sheepish because all pandemic long I had been throwing shade, wondering why the hell it was so difficult for folks to just stay home and keep others safe. And here I was doing exactly the thing I despised.
As I was turning this all over in my mind, an old, different story I had already contemplated on popped into my mind. It was when I sold the Porche. The short version of it was I was super upset when I went to sell the thing and it was worth way less then I had expected. Turns out, there had been engine trouble brewing. Sure, I had felt a little bit of kickback when I drove, but I thought nothing of it, it was so subtle. But the dealership mechanic said it was a symptom of a very sick engine. I was so hung up, I felt like this car, I thought was valuable, proved my value, had deceived me. I felt foolish. One of the things I felt especially foolish about was that I felt like I SHOULD HAVE known it was sick. Here I was using this car to help prove my self image of a buttoned-up, on top, in control Alana and I didn’t even know there was engine trouble. I felt so irresponsible. The opposite of in control. Of course, the punchline there was that the car never did prove anything about how in control and buttoned up I am (and lots of other stuff, that’s actually a pretty elaborate contemplation for another share).
But when I considered this SHOULD HAVE KNOWN issues in the context of the covid story, I realize I have a pattern (there is other evidence I won’t bore you with) – I consider knowledge of something as a marker of mineness. It’s a trait I have (arbitrarily) chosen to prove to myself that something belongs to me. Because I consider this body (and the car) mine, I should have known it was sick. And I am so addicted to the idea that this body is mine, I rather take on heavy guilt for not knowing it was sick, rather than just admit the more obvious truth: The fact that I have no idea what is brewing in this body — that it is happening without my knowledge, better yet my direction/control – is pretty strong evidence that it isn’t mine at all.
The funny thing is, this same wrong view of ownership cuts another way – I suspect it played a part in my slowness to suspect that I had rebounded despite symptoms. Again, another contemplation from a while back helps elucidate:
I had gotten strep years ago. I had a sore throat, but I felt like I was just run down. Like I had talked a lot the night before…it took 2 days before it even dawned on me to test for strep. Sure enough, positive. I considered at the time why I was so reluctant to admit, to myself, I was sick. I realized that I was slow to admit illness at the time, because I considered myself healthy, that was the self-vision I had. On some level, back then, I thought I was exempt from illness, it couldn’t be happening to me. Just like rebound couldn’t be happening to me. Because I view this body as mine, who I am, I struggle to accept it is the same as every other person, every other 4e, subject to shifting states, to imbalance, to decay. Surprised when it happens against my will, not on my schedule. That and, of course, the knowledge trap –if it were really sick, wouldn’t I know? Afterall, its mine.
The irony of course hasn’t escaped me that I try and use this body to prove what a kind, compassionate Alana I am, and here it is exposing others to illness. Because I claim the body, treat it as a tool for self-actualization, I bear the burden of guilt for it. I bear shame and embarrassment, when I smell, when I sag, when I wrinkle. When this body doesn’t match my self-image. I bear physical pain trying to push it to do my will, to fit into the slinky gala dress or to stay in places in which I am struggling to breathe. I live with constant fear and stress trying to protect it, because in my mind I need it to keep being me, to keep becoming, to have the future that exists in my mind. Afterall, self is meaningless without an imagined future.
With the Eric story, self belonging played a star role as well. I think it is ok to whip Eric, I expect a certain set of actions and availability to me, precisely because he is mine…
I guess this is a round about way of saying, I really had to go a ways before I could come back to this idea of mineness and really see the burden of it. To really see just how it sneakily flies under the radar. Such a huge wrong view that has been hiding in plain sight.
Anyway, I am back to self and self belonging. I am also going to dig into this idea of comfort. There is some real magical thinking required to believe that standards that lie with me –my rupa, my nama – are going to be pandered to by the world. Just a wild guess…its also going to require a delusion of self and self belonging.
Thanks again and I’ll keep you posted.
———————–
Mae Neecha wrote me back the following:
“It is so interesting because you get sick very often, like all kinds of sick, for someone who works so hard to be healthy and thinks “It couldn’t be happening to me”… at this point, shouldn’t you be convinced it IS happening to you AGAIN? The body is doing what it always does, what it is supposed to do…age and die.”
