Pain, Depression, Service, and Healing

For the past week or so, I've been experiencing an acute exacerbation of my chronic back pain, and that increase in pain has triggered a low-level depression that has been dogging me as August (and my upcoming 44th birthday) signal the waning of the summer season.

Pain has been a constant companion for several years now, and a number of medical and alternative modalities have offered little respite. Depression, an older and more intimate acquaintance, is sometimes in the background and sometimes in the foreground, but my ability to live with its presence---and function well in the world in spite of it---is somewhat more practiced than my relationship with pain. Still, I go about my days and enjoy a modicum of success, love, prosperity and contentment in my life.

After coming home from work this evening on the heels of a day in the inner city, the last thing I wanted to do was to go back out, but I had a commitment to take an elderly disabled friend out to dinner, and there was no way I would renege on that promise. This woman has been our friend for many years, ever since my wife was her Personal Care Attendant (PCA) and advocate in the mid-1990s. Now, in order for her to stay out of a nursing home, she again needed official advocates to oversee her care, and my wife and I have stepped up to the plate as volunteer advocates (or "surrogates" as we're officially called), charged with managing her team of PCAs and putting out the brush fires that are part and parcel of running the team and household.

With Mary not feeling well, I went to town on my own and our dear friend was waiting outside in her electric wheelchair, and she squealed with delight as I kissed her hello. Although I was nervous about being out with her on my own for the first time, we communicated well and I was able to discern her needs despite her very limited powers of speech from the effects of cerebral palsy.

During a simple dinner on the patio of a local restaurant, I used a small mouse puppet to entertain her, having the mouse "eat" some cornbread, crumbs stuck to its furry face as my friend laughed uproariously. Forgetting about my pain, my depression, and my own (tediously boring) problems, I was able to detach from my "story" and simply be present with this wonderful, warm-hearted woman.

Walking through town, we stopped into a local cafe, listened to live music, and I bought my friend her favorite dessert---chocolate mousse---to savor over the weekend at a time of her choosing.

It was apparent that having company, a chance to go out on the town, and the stimulation of laughter, food, and music was very uplifting for my friend, and as I drove towards home, I realized that being of service and giving of myself for two hours was, after all, uplifting for me as well.

Escaping from my own self-indulging rut, I had a respite, a reprieve, and time to focus on someone else. And that person---disabled, without family, and living on a very fixed income---is a happy, content and lovely person who brings joy easily to others with a simple smile and a kind, compassionate presence.

So, in the midst of pain and depression, it is still possible to serve, to be served, to heal, and to be healed. May wonders never cease.

My Grandfather's Blessings

I am reading “My Grandfather’s Blessings: Stories of Strength, Refuge, and Belonging” by Rachel Naomi Remen, M.D., a book which appeared in our house from an unknown source. Many books grace our shelves and I personally have no recollection of how they landed there. More fool me. But these organically-acquired books which seem to grow from the very shelves out of nothing often seem to hold wisdom and messages far exceeding their exterior qualities or appearance. “My Grandfather’s Blessings” seems to be just one of those sorts of books indeed.

Dr. Remen writes: “We bless the life around us far more than we realize. Many simple, ordinary things that we do can affect those around us in profound ways: the unexpected phone call, the brief touch, the willingness to listen generously, the warm smile or wink of recognition. We can even bless total strangers and be blessed by them. Big messages come in small packages. All it may take to restore someone’s trust in life may be returning a lost earring or a dropped glove.”

About compassion, she adds: “Without compassion, the world cannot continue. Our compassion blesses and sustains the world.”

Through her recollections of her early childhood experiences with her grandfather, an Orthodox rabbi, Dr. Remen uses his wisdom---imparted through simple acts and simple words communicated to a little girl from a wise elder---to discuss simple axioms illustrating the beauty and simplicity of a life of compassion and service.

Not three chapters into the book, and I can feel in my bones that the lessons to be gleaned in the subsequent pages are many. My hope is that I can not only read the words and understand them intellectually, but truly hear them, integrate them, and embody them in daily life. This is the challenge---cultivating compassion, even in the moments when it seems far beyond one’s reach. That certainly must be the task at hand, and its fulfillment is not a mundane achievement. His Holiness The Dalai Lama has said that kindness is his religion. So, if kindness were to be one’s religion, I would venture to say that compassion would then by necessity be one’s commandment. And living by that commandment of kindness and compassion must be one of the greatest goals that anyone could ever strive to fulfill.