Constellations
May we not be separated from the great happiness devoid of suffering.
I touched this once on retreat during the luminous heart-opening practice of tonglen and now it is a regular way of being. But when I first heard this Buddhist phrase (traditionally chanted to evoke compassion), I found it confusing. Incomprehensible, actually. One of my earliest memories is of walking in snow behind my father who was carrying my sleeping younger sister. He pointed out Orion, so visible in the winter night sky. The body, belt and, sword are hard to un-see once pointed out. I later learned that there is also a club in one raised hand and a shield thrust forward in the other hand. Orion is a hunter and clearly ready to fight and defend. This stance characterized much of my young adult life. This wasn't obvious to people from my calm and kind — and shy — exterior, but it characterized my inner life until at 33 a medical diagnosis changed my outlook on life and began a gradual process of opening to that great happiness.
When I fully realized that the MS diagnosis was true, I sobbed heartily. Nothing had really changed in my life, but there was a sudden sense of great loss. Something else happened, too: an opening, a sense of connection. While long-held ideas about who I was slipped away, a solidarity opened up with a whole realm of beings I had never given much thought to and probably avoided. It was the realm of human suffering that is humanity’s common ground.
Years later, after taking up this meditation practice, I recognized that common ground and how seeing it loosens self-centredness. It is a turning that can happen on the spiritual path: from feeling isolated and small to feeling connected and vast. For me it was a movement from feeling unwelcome and defended to one of belonging — belonging in a larger sense, to all of Life. Gradually my habitual defences came down because they didn't make sense anymore. Whether we know it or not, each of us is on the verge of a diagnosis, a loss, or imminent death. It is so much kinder, then, to try and really see each other than it is to only see our stories about each other, declare independence, and go to war. I was at war. A mantra became “please may I stop the war; may I leave a legacy of kindness.”
MS, and the many challenges that came with it, became a catalyst to break out of some painful habits because adversity quickly shows us where we are stuck. Now, to be kind to myself, the habits of pushing away, suppressing, and more were the misguided patterns of mind geared toward keeping myself safe. And those habitual defences were all I knew. Defensiveness is all that many people know. We are, as a society, waking up to the extent of trauma in people’s lives and how so many people do not feel safe, and, in many cases are actually not safe. But being guarded in this way also keeps us closed, angry, fearful or in pain. As such, I certainly hurt a lot of people including myself. I learned that automatically reacting and pushing away only makes things more solid, thorny, and painful. This was and continues to be great motivation for me to find those painful patterns and work to release them.
As a constellation, Orion only exists from our perspective here on earth. If you are standing on say, Jupiter, you get a different perspective: the familiar constellation becomes a random scattering of stars among trillions of stars. Orion is made up of the space that is bounded within when our minds connect the dots. My defensiveness was like this — my mind connecting the dots over and over telling the story of me and my pain, my fear, my insecurities. The diagnoses and eventually meditation practice shot me out to Jupiter so I could see that constellation for what it was. Recent satellite imagery into deep space has shown that there are trillions of galaxies beyond one small patch of the night sky. “Our” Orion is, actually, immeasurably vast.
Orion, girded up by her belt and ready with her weapons, is closed off, lonely, and mostly suffering. In her attempts to protect, she causes inner and outer harm. If only she could remember that she is space in which trillions of stars only shine on. That is the great happiness. The weapons and shield may still be there (or not), but her grip is easy. She is ready instead to see and receive kindness, joy, and compassion where before she saw danger. And she has the wisdom that comes of knowing how vast she is, how vast we all are.
This analogy leaves us with some useful questions to ask of ourselves at any given moment. Do I have my shield up? Am I raising a club? Is my hand ready on the sword? What happens, for the moment, if I drop them all?
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Beloved Buddhist nun and teacher, Pema Chödrön, teaching on the Four Immeasurable qualities available here. They are loving-kindness, compassion, sympathetic joy, and equanimity.
