Ice Storm

A little more than two weeks ago a very powerful ice storm hit the area where I live.  In an instant our electrical power, landline phone, cell phone, and internet were all gone. We had very limited water from our well and collected rain water and carried it in buckets for toilet flushing. We heard large tree limbs and entire trees crashing to the ground regularly throughout the night.  It was impossible for anyone to get in or out because of the slippery ice which prevented both car and foot travel. We had only a small battery powered lantern for light that wasn’t enough to read by.  This continued for 13 days before all services were restored.  Fortunately, we had a wood burning stove for heat which also allowed limited cooking.

Although living became more complicated and more work, we were able to stay warm and dry, had plenty of food to eat, and were able to take care of our most basic needs at the physical level. From a mental and emotional point of view, things became interesting.  

There were certainly many small moments of laughter and genuine enjoyment.  And going through the experience with a loved and loving companion reduced the feeling of isolation.  But there was something more. We were not in control of when everything got repaired.  We had no way of knowing how long the blackout of services would last—it could be a few hours, a few days, or weeks. So though our basic needs were taken care of and there were moments of happiness, I noticed that there was also a background level of tension, a sort of cloud hanging over life, an undercurrent of unease.  Each day, there was hoping and then being disappointed when nothing changed.  There was this pervasive sense of waiting.

Then, at day eight of the outage, I had a little epiphany and began writing (with pen and paper, and noting some mental resistance to it!).  During the quiet space of a meditation, a thought bubbled up in my mind:  “What if I knew for certain that things would always be like this?”  To my surprise, I felt an immediate sense of relaxation of tension in the body and a sense of ease in the mind.  My mind had spontaneously dropped its resistance to the way things were.  I had the clear sense that it would actually be a relief (and easier) to deal with the present circumstances if I knew this was the new and lasting reality.  I wouldn’t have the sense of “waiting it out” until some “normal” state of existence returned in the future. There would no longer be the repetitive cycle of hoping and disappointment each day.  There would just be “This is it—so deal with it.”  

If I knew things would always be like this the mental resistance would be gone:  my mind would no longer be saying “No, I don’t want this, things shouldn’t be this way, I have to have things back the way they are supposed to be.”  As a result, I would be more present and more able to enjoy the present reality.  I could discover that the conditions for contentment and happiness are always present:  the beauty of the rain, the glow and warmth of our wood stove, the companionship of Sandy, good health, and more.  But we tend to put conditions on our happiness:  I’ll be happy when I get promoted at work, when I find the right relationship, when the bad politicians are defeated, when a solution for climate change is found, and on and on.  Placing these conditions on our happiness just insures that we will not be happy during the time that these conditions have not been met.

In addition, the very idea of “getting back to how things were before” is nothing more than a fictional mental story.  After a change, things rarely get back to how they were before the change. You’ve had surgery, you have a new job, you have a new life partner, you’ve moved to a new city—for any one of these events, there is no way of getting back to how things were before.  But if we can let go of that, we can open ourselves to experiencing fully the new reality.

And as for hoping for a different reality…  This can have positive benefits in that hope can make it easier to bear present hardships.  But as Thich Nhat Hanh has pointed out, hope is often an obstacle to peace and joy right now.  Hope is always in the future, and this takes me out of the present moment, which is the only place where my life actually exists.  When I am hoping, my mind is in a state of waiting for some future moment to arrive that will be better than this one, and believing that when that future better moment arrives “real life” will finally begin for me. If I can refrain from hoping, I can bring myself entirely into the present moment and discover the peace and joy that is already here.

But we have this habit of putting conditions on our happiness, and so we find ourselves saying “I’ll be happy when the power comes back on”—an event that may happen in the future.  But the conditions for peace and joy, if I am present, are always available to me right now.  So yes, the power is out.  But in this moment there is the quiet of the refrigerator and all other appliances being off. There is the beauty and warmth of the fire in the wood stove and shimmering icicles in the window.  There is the adventure of cooking on the wood stove and gathering rainwater for toilet flushing, and getting a taste of the simpler (and yes, more physically demanding) lives that people led in the past.  There’s getting up when it becomes light outside and going to bed shortly after dark, and so getting in touch with the rhythms of the natural world. There is the peace of freedom from the internet and constant stimulation and the relentless exposure to the troubles in the world.  Having our minds in hoping for a better moment in the future robs us of the richness of experience in this moment right now—the only moment that we ever have that is real.

Note:   My intention is to add new posts to the blog approximately every 2 to 3 weeks. If you would like to receive an e-mail notification each time a new blog post is made, please let me know and I will add you to the list of recipients. This notification will also include the title of the new post.  Some of the material that appears in this blog is copyrighted, but in keeping with the Buddha’s teaching that the dharma is not to be sold, the contents of this blog may be freely  copied and given away, but not sold. 

            If you have questions, comments, or ideas for new Blog topics please contact Dale at ahimsaacres@gmail.com.