Thursday, May 10, 2012

Still Feeling Bad About Adam Yauch, But Worse

I wish some stories weren't so quickly replaced online by the next new thing.

I wasn't interested in fighting with people over the definitions of sex and gender that were brought on by a news story about a transgendered musician who gave an interview to Rolling Stone about nir plans to transition.

I wasn't interested in the furor and subsequent—what word could express the most vicious hatred mixed with PCBs, acid rain, global warming, ricin poisoning, and stupidity?—unfriendly comments after the news that President Obama is now apparently in favor of gay marriage.

I was interested in reading more kind thoughts about the death of a beautiful human being. Unfortunately, I read unkind comments. Now I will have to do a Metta mediation for everyone who spews vitriol online.

Love, Eros, Sex, and Compassion

Many years ago I read the transcript of a lecture called "Love, Eros, and Sex." In it, the lecturer discussed the differences between the three feelings or states of being and gave definitions for the words. For her purposes, the word "eros" described the heady, charged feeling of infatuation, the physiological and emotional chemistry a person feels when she develops a crush, or he discovers feelings of arousal towards a person. This was distinguished from sex, as the emotion of eros wasn't necessarily accompanied by actual physical contact. Love was a third form of intimacy entirely, and as I recall it was defined as the combination of trust and comfort and a deep bond of friendship, although it wasn't divorced from attraction or sexual feeling.

I've been thinking about this recently in terms of my own personal definitions of relationship words like love, and how they work within and outside of my definitions of lovingkindness or compassion.

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The editor interrupts this blog entry for a late-breaking METTA news story:


See the difference in the two people's sizes? This escalator is STEEP!
This past Thursday afternoon Two or three Thursdays ago, on my way home from Rego Park, I was on the subway platform about to get on the up escalator when I noticed a woman at the top of the down escalator looking petrified. She was standing at the very beginning of the moving stair, and it seemed she was unable to step onto it. To my delight a couple of other passengers had noticed her and were trying to encourage her, but they couldn't stick around to help because they had to go catch their buses. Fortunately, by that time I had gotten to the top of the escalator, and I went over to her. She was a small and fragile-looking middle-aged woman, and although she was trying to contain her panic she was in obvious distress. I stood next to her and told her we'd do it together, and that when I counted to three we'd put a foot on the stair. I wrapped one arm around her waist and held onto her hand with the other, and on three we successfully made it onto the stair without mishap or even a wobble. Score! Ten for execution, a terrific success.

But the story's not over; I haven't even gotten to the important part yet.

As soon as I let go of her after we'd stepped onto the train platform, I had the hugest grin on my face. Not because she expressed gratitude, which she did, but because helping this woman gave me such a high. She REALLY needed someone to help her, and I was almost glad that the other thoughtful people didn't go the extra mile because it meant I could have the joy of easing her suffering. I was the lucky one who got to help her through her fear at the top, and I got to see her relief and her smiles when we got to the bottom. I couldn't see her pain and not want to relieve it. I HAD to help her; there were no two ways about it.


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And now back to our regularly scheduled blog entry:

So how does this experience have any correlation with love, eros, or sex? Believe me when I tell you I felt love for the woman at the top of the escalator. The clichéd expression "my heart went out to her" accurately describes how I felt. I was drawn to her, with an overwhelming need to comfort her and ease her pain. I associate that feeling—of caring deeply for another being and wanting in some way to protect, shelter, or comfort—with the idea of love, and believe it is an intrinsic part of that experience.

When I think of the emotion that feels essentially the same whether it's felt towards an animal, a child, or a lover, I call that feeling love. It's a soft feeling, a feeling of appreciation, a feeling of joy, of sweetness, and of warmth. It's that indefinable sensation of magic when watching an animal or person sleeping; you're witnessing their unconscious breaths, and you can feel how precious, fascinating, and vulnerable they are, and you are torn between leaving them to rest and staying to keep vigil over them. It's unfortunate that one of the synonyms I keep getting for this intense felling of caring is "maternal," because this emotion is of course without gender or age (I've seen very young toddlers express this emotion toward turtles, caterpillars, and other larger creatures as well).

Chest Pain

It hurts, it's been hurting for a while, and although the pain went away for a few days, it's back.

Pretty soon I'm gonna start quoting Shakespeare. Uh oh, it's happening--can't--stop---
I beseech you, punish me not with your hard
thoughts, wherein I confess me much guilty to deny
so fair and excellent ladies any thing. But let your
fair eyes, and gentle wishes go with me to my trial;
wherein if I be foiled, there is but one shamed that was
never gracious; if killed, but one dead that was willing to
be so: I shall do my friends no wrong, for I have none to
lament me, the world no injury, for in it I have nothing;
only in the world I fill up a place, which may be better
supplied when I have made it empty.
                                        As You Like It (1.2.346-55)
No, I'm not suicidal, so shut up. This was an important quote for me for many years; I know that feeling. He was feeling sorry for himself, but he had plenty of good reasons.

I'm gonna go have some hot and sour soup that doesn't have enough vinegar or sesame oil in it.