Impermanence

On July 21st, I will be participating in a ceremony with a local sangha to renew my Refuge and Bodhisattva vows and take my precept vows (if you’re interested, you can view the format I’ve developed for the ceremony here.). On Wednesday evening, as I was meeting with the leader of the sangha/meditation group to discuss the ceremony, I mentioned that my body was very good at teaching me the nature of impermanence. It had, however, been a while since my body had reminded me of that lesson. In fact, for the last several months, I’ve been able to do activities I hadn’t dared to dream of for years: I was able to walk for exercise, even managing to walk 1.8 miles in this year’s Arthritis Walk; I was able to visit a local cat shelter twice a week to give the cats the love and attention they deserve, if only for a few hours a week; I was even able to do two hour-long drives this month (total, not each way) to attend what I called the “local” sangha earlier on.

As part of my Buddhist practice, I encouraged myself to be aware of these wonderful moments and to enjoy them while they lasted, because I knew, without a doubt, that the bodily strength and resilience I was experiencing was bound to end at some point. Moments always end, but sometimes the actions that filled those moments can be repeated. I knew, without a doubt, that my ability to do these wonderful things was transitory.

And yet, when the inevitable loss came yesterday, I was broken. Somehow, while sleeping, it looks like I sprained part of my right foot. The sprain itself, if it had happened as the result of a fall or injury and was not accompanied by my myriad foot problems, would not be a big deal. But since it happened apparently while I was sleeping, this could indicate serious joint instability in my right foot. This could very well mean surgery. This could very well mean that my right foot is literally falling apart. This could very well mean that the way of life I’ve been enjoying these last few months is over.

Now, this sprain may just be the harbinger of the crisis and not the crisis itself. Yet even so, it is the beginning of the end for my right foot. One way or another, this does not bode well.

I find myself thinking, first, of the cats at the rescue center, who blossom and shine each and every time I’m there. With the attention and love I’ve been able to give these cats, they’ve become happier. For a few hours a week, they know love. (And this is not to say that they don’t receive love and attention from other people, but there are close to 30 cats there. They need all the love and attention they can get.) They’ve grown attached to me. What will happen to these cats if I have to stop these bi-weekly visits, even for a short period of time?

And then I begin to think of possible adaptations, ways I could drive with minimal use of the part of my right foot that may be collapsing.

I am surprised by the sorrow I feel for an event that I rationally knew would happen at some point. I sobbed in bed this morning, talking out loud to myself, to God, to my cats, to whoever might have been listening. “I’m too young for this!” “I’m afraid!” I suppose I just assumed that “some point” would always be in the future and was not immanent. Somewhere deep inside, I was skeptical about the impermanence of my condition.

I see my podiatrist bright and early Monday morning (my mother-in-law will be driving me). All I can do it the meantime is try to stay off of my feet as much as possible… and meditate.

Part of me is grateful for my body teaching me, once again, about impermanence. But right now, most of me is suffering, because though I understand the Four Noble Truths rationally, they are so damn hard to actually accept and believe.

1. Life means suffering.

2. The origin of suffering is attachment.

3. The cessation of suffering is attainable.

4. The path to the cessation of suffering.
[The Noble Eightfold Path: Right View, Right Thinking, Right Mindfulness, Right Speech, Right Action, Right Diligence, Right Concentration, and Right Livelihood.]

[UPDATE: It’s just tendinitis from too much driving. Not a Big Deal. Note to self: not every new physical symptom is a Big Deal.]