Letter to my children: The role of suffering

Dearest Beloveds,

This morning I was reading to you a variation of the Twelve Iron Sandals - except for this time the enchanted prince was a pig not a dragon. (I prefer the dragon, for obvious reasons.) The last paragraph of the story included this sentence, “And they ruled as only kings can rule who have suffered many things and through their suffering, becoming loving and wise.”

It reminded me of this quote from Resmaa Menakem’s latest blog piece, “When White Bodies Say: Tell Me What To Do.” His piece starts like this:

Imagine that your six-year-old daughter says to you at supper, "Being an adult looks hard. Tell me what to do to become one."

Your answer won't be a checklist. Instead, you might say, "Well, butter bean, it's not just a list of things to do. It's a process. You live your life; you pay attention; you act from the best parts of yourself; and, day by day and year by year, you grow up."

"Wow," she says. "That sounds really hard. Can you do some of the growing up for me?"

"No, beanie baby," you'll say. "It doesn't work that way."

He then goes on to say that after his seminars often there is a white bodied person (love that term!) that comes up to him and asks him what to do to create an antiracist culture, to which his answer is “it doesn’t work that way.” He continues:

If you have a white body and you're serious about helping our world grow out of white-body supremacy, know this: You will need to commit yourself, and your efforts will cost you something. They will cost you time, effort, comfort, and repeated failure. They might also cost you some relationships, money, your current self-image, your social position, or even your job. Don't try to figure out a way to avoid this cost. There isn't one.

……..

What can I do? When white folks ask this, they really mean: What can I do that won't cost me or hurt me or challenge me? If that describes you, now you have to choose: either stop reading or commit to growing up.

I would agree that it is the suffering and difficulty of life that forces us to change, adapt, step outside of our comfort zones, see the world from another’s eyes, grow our hearts for ourselves, the circumstances, and the world. I want to emphasize here, again and again and always, that becoming wise and loving from suffering is a choice - one I devoutly hope you will make.

When, not if, life gets hard you will be given a choice. Your choice will be to accept the suffering and see the opportunity for spiritual and emotional development, to notice with gratitude what is not hard in that moment, to meet and love those humans who stand by you, to meet and love yourself. The other side is to choose resentment and anger when suffering happens. You can become embittered and furious at what is being done to you by the Universe, how unfair it feels as you compare yourself to a perceived perfect other, raging against the reality that is facing you.

As Eckhart Tolle says, raging against your reality is the surest sign of mental illness. How can you deny what is happening to you? It is what is happening. When I would ask Baba about whether he was angry that he couldn’t remember anything, he would smile and look at me, “I can’t do anything about it. So why get angry? I am being taken care of so beautifully.” Then he would smile.

I have been a cancer patient, survivor, patient, survivor, round and around for nearly 15 years. It has been hard. As you get older it will be more and more difficult to shield you two from the realities of what this circle means and involves. I can only hope that any suffering you experience because of my health is seen as an opportunity for growth - growth into a more loving and wise person. I want to shield you both from a life of difficulties but I know that is not how this works. You both will face your own upheavals and they will forge you.

I have found the forging, though often unwelcome, has made me more myself over the years. I am less worried about what other people think of me. I am more willing to initiate difficult conversations. I am grateful for what I have - like you two.

After dinner the two of you have been going to the outside swing. The Bean spins the Dragon around and around and then lets GOOOOO. There is laughter and giggle and smiles. It is amazing. Then we walk to feed the alpacas and sheep. Both of you climb on the fence to make sure all goes well.

“Don’t spit on me silly alpaca!. Your food is right here! Momma, this one is about to eat from my hand.”

“Bean, you are amazing.”

The Dragon climbs up next to his sister, ever watchful.

Thank you for being my children. I love love love love you.