As I was saying…
My last post on Substack was about my short-lived cancer journey, from diagnosis to cure. Although there were many angles I could have discussed it from, I chose to speak about it from the humor I approached my situation with. I thought, naively, laughing through the situation would bring me seamlessly into the flow of the situation. I forgot being in the flow was what brought Zhuangzi, Daoist philosopher and humorist, laughter—not the other way around.
It became quickly apparent after posting that I was starting to feel my internal state worsen, and I understood I hadn’t fully honored my emotions the way they deserved. But they got jammed, as neglected pain tends to. With the emotional jam then came writer’s block, emotional distancing, and a return of PTSD symptoms.
Then, with a slight dose of mycological assistance, I broke the dam the other night—only to nearly drown in the flood of emotions. Now that I’ve nearly finished processing, I thought it was time to reflect on my experience while discussing the core theme of my week: dukkha, or suffering.
First, a quick look at what we’re dealing with.
A tale of two arrows and three poisons
Dukkha is often translated as suffering or dissatisfaction. Buddhists often explain suffering through a metaphor of getting shot by two arrows: the first arrow is the inevitable pain and suffering that life provides; the second arrow is our reaction to the first arrow—the personal storyline we make about it.
In the original Pali Canon, the metaphor has the subject get shot by each arrow; however, I prefer a variant I read from a Tibetan lama. The alternate telling described the second arrow as hitting the back of the first arrow, amplifying the pain from the initial arrow. No additional wound was formed, yet the pain became all-consuming once insult was added to injury.
The second arrow isn’t always fired. It gets triggered only if the arrow-victim consumes one or more of the three poisons:
Attachment / Clinging / Desire (Lobha)
Aversion / Rejection / Hatred (Dosa)
Ignorance / Delusion / Confusion (Moha)
An example of each poison in this context would be: a desire for the feeling of having not been shot by an arrow; a hatred of the situation of having an arrow lodged in one’s keister; and the delusion that life isn’t supposed to have painful elements (such as arrow wounds).
Each poison brings suffering by creating a mental barrier between us and the way things truly are. If reality itself is too much to accept, peace within it will be ultimately unattainable.
I had a double shot of the second poison on the rocks.
Whoa is me
It’s a very rare occasion when I cry. In fact, I probably shed a total of two tears throughout the whole cancer fiasco. And I really didn’t feel the need to cry then, either.
Something I think many spiritual people struggle with is balancing being a spiritual being and being a human being—of which we are very much both. From a spiritual perspective, this was a wonderful opportunity for growth, meditating upon impermanence, and letting go of the fear of dropping the body.
Up until a few days ago, I hadn’t fully allowed the human part of me to partake—an aversion that held a steep psychological price. I became so pent-up and unwell, I dedicated an evening and a low dose of psilocybin to tackling the issue, fearing I would spiral if I didn’t.
When the tears finally began, it was shocking how hard they came out. I have a comically Santa-like laugh, and I have a tragically Santa-like cry. I took a step into the Observer in me and tried to find what the crying was all about.
C.S. Lewis once said, “No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear.” The man, as he so often did, nailed it. At first, I really thought I was terrified, but that didn’t quite capture what I felt. I quickly realized it was mourning. I was mourning how my current form wouldn’t survive death. I really like being Gabe, and I really love everyone being Gabe surrounds me with. I mourned the end of my life and the ends of theirs.
It was no wonder I had pushed away that feeling, as it unequivocally sucks.
Tantric suffering
In Vajrayana Buddhism, being chalk-full of negative energy isn’t a bad thing; it’s an opportunity for alchemical transmutation. The three poisons, when handled with care, become a source of power—all we need is the right antidote.
The following antidotes are shorthand. If you want more thorough instructions, I suggest you brush up on the Eightfold Path. The only one I’ll reiterate here is Right View: understanding the nature of suffering, that actions have consequences, and seeing things as they are rather than how we want them to be. Right View is key to transmuting the poisons to power.
Attachment—to the way things were, could be, or ought to be—is transformed through generosity.
The anxious tendency stemming from fear of loss and lack will dissipate as we practice loosening our grasps. The less we grasp at, the more peace we’ll have, as we cannot lose or get hurt where we don’t identify.
Aversion—often hateful in nature—can be remedied through loving-kindness.
Embracing that which we want far the hell away from us is counterintuitive, but it dissolves the mental barriers and allows us to let the world, and ourselves, in. It takes practice, but cultivating goodwill and compassion becomes natural with time.
Ignorance—misperceptions that lead us into suffering—are dispelled with wisdom.
Cultivating an understanding of the true nature of the world and our place in it, comprehending the nature of change, and internalizing that the second arrow of suffering is fired by us will free us from chasing fleeting illusions.
Samsara vs. Lila
I have spoken at length about lila, the Divine playing as our reality. I’ve also spoken about Samsara, the realms of rebirth and suffering. They are two sides of the same coin, but not exactly the same.
Samsara is the version of reality where dukkha reigns supreme. We suffer and we believe it’s real. For the people who indulge in the three poisons without their antidotes, this is where they’re cycling through.
Lila is where we arrive when we allow the poisons in and treat them with their prescribed cures, turning them into fuel for peace. Lila may look identical to Samsara at first glance, but it’s far more delightful.
Swami Sarvapriyananda, the wonderful Vedanta teacher, described the difference as a desert mirage. He described ultimate reality as a desert, and the world of maya (illusion) as the mirage of an oasis. Swami Sarvapriyananda explains there isn’t any quantity of illusory water that can wet a single grain of desert sand.
Or in other words: once we stop identifying with the mirage and understand the water is an illusion, the feeling of drowning will cease.
All that is to say…
The second arrow got me good. I understand that the point is to let the second arrow hit and to have the antidote at the ready, but the path is the goal—obstacles and all. I wasn’t planning on talking about myself when I started this publication, but I understand that the spiritual path isn’t nearly as pristine and esoteric as people paint it to be. It’s real life, and that’s a beautiful mess in its own right.
Also, I wanted to make it clear I'm not talking out of my ass.
Everything I said in this post I applied to my own situation, and I must say I'm feeling much better. Once the resistance ended and the poison presented itself, the antidote was at the ready: loving and nurturing that grieving, frightened, mortal part of me. Healing hurts, but that doesn't mean it isn't worth it.
If you’re struggling in your own life, I invite you to see what poison your second arrow has been dipped in. I promise, there’s an antidote.