Falling
Apart
“Things
falling apart is kind of testing and also kind of healing. We think the point
is to pass the test or to overcome the problem, but the truth is that things
don’t really get solved. They come together and they fall apart. Then they come
together again and fall apart again. It’s just like that. The healing comes from
letting there be room for all of this to happen: room for grief, for relief,
for misery, for joy.”
Pema
Chodron (When Things Fall Apart, Heart Advice for Difficult Times)
Pema
Chodron speaks a truth no one wants to hear: “things don’t really get solved.”
I’ve been thinking a lot about winter since it’s been so cold here. This is the
season of dissolution, the season when everything falls apart. Just ask the
people in Austin, Texas. Things fell apart there early this week because weather
patterns brought them a situation that no one was prepared for. By today, though, all
the power has been restored, and by next week the water problems will be
cleared up. Things fall apart and then they come together again.
Nature
is a great role model for this universal truth. Winter brings about a small
death. Snow covers the ground, the flowers and trees stand naked, leafless.
Small creatures burrow or hibernate; their body temperatures drop, and heart
rate slows. The sun hides behind layers and layers of dense clouds, and we shiver
and pull up the covers. Limbs fall to the ground and nothing grows. This is not
a disaster, not a death knell. It’s the natural order of things. In another
month or two, spring will wake up the natural world. Winter will end, and new
life will emerge from what appears to be dead. Nature makes room for
dissolution and renewal.
I
suppose if you live at the equator, this drastic change does not occur, but
even there, life comes and goes in cycles. There is no endless summer or
endless winter. As Chodron says, “It’s just like that.” That’s how life is. We
humans can either fight it or dance with it. Up to us. Fighting it causes a lot
of stress and anxiety while dancing with it will make us, if not merry, at
least light on our feet.
One of
the things that would help mitigate the disastrous effects of the natural cycle
of things falling apart would be if we had the skills to handle it better.
If we learned how to take better care of ourselves disasters such as the one unfolding
now in Texas, would not seem quite so terrible. Learning basic survival skills
used to be part of normal life—how to chop wood, build a fire, drag out a
cooking pot and make stew. I remember as a kid having Brunswick stew cooked in a black
cast-iron pot over an open fire. It was good. Boiling water from a
creek or boiling melted snow and pouring it through a sieve or screen to remove
dirt—basic skills for weathering a disaster. Also, banding together, sharing supplies,
and keeping each other warm. I’ve seen some great ideas floated on Facebook—for
instance, get out a camping tent and sleeping bags and set them up over a bed
to hold in the heat. Bunking the kids together underneath an improvised canopy.
That’s the kind of thing that children love to do in play, anyway. Mine made “forts”
of sofa pillows and chairs and blankets, didn’t yours?
It is
helpful to understand that falling apart is a normal part of life. We
catastrophize circumstances that are simply life having its way, and that makes
us anxious and angry. Making room for all of it—the good and bad, dissolution
and renewal—is one way to keep hard times from being perceived as disastrous. Difficult
circumstances help us appreciate how easy our lives are most of the time, and gratitude
is where healing begins.
In
the Spirit,
Jane
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