The Tao of Physics, Portrait of a Lady, and The Way of Zen

Fritjof Capra, Henry James, Alan Watts

What can I possibly say to bring these together?

I did a good stint of suffering. And was indeed called a fool for it.

However… the most direct criticism of this nature – no, it wasn’t “of that nature” – that little “talk” can be boiled down to “you are a fool for suffering”

But I’m not so sure about that… Why am I being vague? I’m completely sure that suffering at that time was appropriate. I almost wrote “the right thing to do” – as if it was a choice.

Ok, let me drop the vagueness altogether. I’m writing about the first Christmas I was divorced and my father telling me that I should not be upset (he may as well have added “you’re bringing down my mood and I don’t like it.”

I would like to use the phrase “the ink was not dry” on my divorce papers but I don’t think they were signed. This was the same day I wired a good chunk of money to my ex wife.

That wire transfer stung, but let me interject here: a) it was a loan and b) my ex wife and I get along very well and c) as painful as that time was… I don’t think people believe me when I tell them that this stint of suffering was maybe, not “for the best” so much as… you never know what is good luck and what is bad luck and… Atman is the Brahman in our souls? Maybe I am writing this story and it’s a drama, not easily classified as a tragedy or a comedy, it is both.

Back to this unlovely conversation with my father: The man told me that he eventually chose (read “repressed”) his sadness after his divorce and that he regretted the time he “spent” upset, and so I should learn from his “mistake” and just skip the sadness (as I was ruining his Christmas – one would think I exaggerate but the man may be a true blue sociopath/psychopath)

I told him that I didn’t think he was correct that… one can just choose not to be sad, that the only thing to do when you’re upset is to be upset.

I don’t think I was eloquent enough at the time to conclude: and then it passes. It doesn’t really leave you, the past is what it is, but then that emotion doesn’t hide somewhere, buried in your subconscious, unresolved: an unsatisfied ghost that will haunt you, perhaps forever, a ghost, waiting for the opportunity to manifest itself.

Again from Portrait of a Lady:

I went inside, my father and had been on the porch, and some minutes later, I was sitting on the couch, an arm around each of my young children, when this psychopath came in and started screaming – ferociously: “YOU DIDN’T HELP SET THE TABLE! HOW COULD YOU DO THAT! WHY DID YOU NOT HELP SET THE TABLE!”

An unpleasant exchange of words followed and… it was nonsensical. My father and my (imbecile) stepmother seemed to somehow fault me further for not being completely cool with being screamed at, for being sad, in front of my two children.

I’ll leave out some unpleasant details but this was an incident where… I started to understand that my father is… he’s not just an a-hole, he has a very serious mental / emotional disorder that causes him tremendous pain and really defies understanding, or rather it is very hard to understand because on the surface it is so illogical. But it is a condition, a neurosis, that is unfortunately common among his generation: the child of Great Depression and World War II parents who did not, or were not capable of, showing love and affection at most likely an early stage of development, specifically ages 2 to 5.

Wowsers. I did not intend to write so much this morning, or share such personal details.

I’ve painted a good picture of myself as a victim. Yes, this particular event, I was not treated kindly.

C’est la vie.

I make light of it, but chances are, you have or will experience some traumas as well. I’m vague again: you will experience some traumatic events in your life. Everyone does. (I wonder what will befall Isabel…) So c’est la vie is appropriate.

I want to highlight what I tried to convey: on the surface, perhaps my father appeared more not-a-fool, more emotionally mature, but those repressed emotions from his divorce didn’t just go away and on this occasion they manifested themselves with him screaming like a lunatic at his son (that’s me), while I was upset about my divorce, and in front of his two young grandchildren at that.

So the real victim of his actions… is himself. He has to live with that. And the way he does that is by his tried and true methods of repression and projection. And… it hasn’t turned out well for him. “Own personal hell” I hear was how he described his day to day recently, now in the twilight of his life, the “golden years.”

So… writing this blog post: this is me not repressing these emotions. Am I a little sad now? Yup. But c’est la vie. If I’m going to bring it back to Zen and Taoism: Yin and Yang. If one is never sad, then happiness isn’t easy to come by either.

Paradox abounds: in this story I am both the victim and not. I can write about this and share it with anyone and not feel shame. And I can thereby recognize causes and effects and being conscious of these things, I can choose to treat my children differently – to not pass down these patterns of behavior from one generation to the next, as is usually the case.

Ok to end on a lighter note, I’m not the only one who recognizes the faults of their parents, and the true challenge is one level deeper, and the goal is that the pendulum not swing too far in the other direction, as Jung has pointed out is often the case. The goal is to show my children balance and equanimity. At the risk of… am I saying this to convince myself of it or is it also the truth? I am not the victim of this story, I am the hero.

The lighter note! I saw this cartoon in The New Yorker recently, and as I find it pertinent, I cut it out and put it on the fridge.

I almost forgot, as this post took a turn that veered from the subjects of these books… the note I scribbled in The Tao of Physics: Now I know the origin of Robert Pirsig’s next novel, Lila. Also, while some of these ideas are familiar, I found the bit about maya referring not to the world itself, but rather to our perception (or misperception of it) to advance my understanding of the subject a bit.

Ah! “The son of man hath no place to lay his head” – when I think back on the time in my life that I describe (detail…) in this post – that line really stuck with me, perhaps I had heard it in an Alan Watts lecture. At the time… I found it true but not particularly comforting. I’m not there yet but as Alan says: “This is The Gospel! This is the Good Word!” And while it can be interpreted somberly, it can be interpreted otherwise: as freedom.

Ah! The title of this post: I’m using Google Gemini a bit lately to get a feel for how it compares to ChatGPT and I asked for the right word: Samsari.