We invite you to join us for online every first Thursday of the month morning Mindful Caregiving sangha.
Mindful Caregiving
These mindful caregiving sessions are open to all who identify as caregivers. The topics and discussions of this group will be rooted in mindfulness practice and will aim to support those in a parental role, caretaking for an elder, or experiencing another type of caregiving situation by creating a compassionate, reflective space to come together.
No prior experience with mindfulness is necessary—all are welcome. There are no restrictions to join. While there is no fee, we invite participants to offer dana (a practice of generosity) to help sustain the gathering.
Format: 7:00 am-7:25 am meditation period and 7:25-8:00 am dharma sharing.
For questions about the Mindful Caregivers group, please contact facilitator Jenny Medvene-Collins.
No previous mindfulness or meditation experience is necessary. No fees, donations are always welcome.
The Second Arrow of Suffering
Reading: From Thich Nhat Hanh from No Mud, No Lotus: the Art of Transforming Suffering:
"If an arrow hits you, you feel pain in that part of your body where the arrow hit; and then if a second arrow comes and strikes the same spot, the pain will not only double – but be at least ten times more intense…The first arrow: rejection, loss of an object, a failure, injury…they cause pain. The second arrow – fired by our own selves, is our reaction, storyline, and anxiety. These magnify the suffering (and can include) fear of the unknown, judgment, fear, anger…The art of suffering well is to learn not to magnify the pain and get carried away in fear, anger or despair. Do not throw good energy away on condemning yourself or obsessing. Be present in the suffering moment."
Jenny Shares:
Over the winter holidays, a dear friend’s father passed away. He had been caring for his dad who was battling an illness and there was a prolonged period of suffering, particularly toward the end. I had known that this loss was coming, as I did when my own dad was ill and on a similar journey. Still, news of the loss hit me like a freight train. My mind felt immediately transported back in time to my own dad’s passing, and my path of navigating the grief both before and afterwards. Here was the inevitable first arrow – my friend’s dad passing away and my hearing this news. There was nothing I could do to prevent that arrow from striking my friend, and very secondarily, myself.
After receiving this news, however, my mind continued down the path of my own grief. I started asking myself questions such as, “did I process enough right after my dad passed?” and “could I have more deeply confided in my friends at that time?” and “how could I have been there for my dad even more than I was?” Then back to my grieving friend, “what else could I have done for my friend before this happened?” Notice the judgement within these questions, as well as the self doubt. Rather than staying with and attending to the first arrow, the event itself, and being with that suffering, my questioning mind swooped in and carried me away from presence in that moment. As a result, I opened myself up to a second arrow and added many extra layers to the suffering.
While this instance was not directly tied to my current caregiving journey, when I began to realize the presence of the second arrow, I thought of many recent examples where I had rushed too quickly away from the first arrow instead of compassionately staying with my suffering. On a nearly daily basis, I am struck by caregiving-related arrows – in the form of updates or pressing issues, injuries, and challenges of various kinds. Often, I do not rest for very long in that initial suffering moment. When I receive that “something is wrong with your loved one” arrow, I feel an urgency to react, and to “do,” leading to rushing straight out of presence and into my thinking and questioning mind. I wonder what it could look like for me to stay with the suffering alongside that first arrow – to keep my thinking mind temporarily at bay with simply the power of presence.
While there will continue to be inevitable arrows striking in this caregiving season, I hope for us all to practice staying with our suffering enough to take loving care of it. In a podcast I recently listened to with Brother Pháp Dung, he talked about how to “suffer well in order to suffer less.” I would love to consider this question with other caregivers: what might it look like for us to be with our suffering well enough that we ultimately suffer less? As always, please feel invited to come exactly as you are and to share whatever is on your heart this month.