The Place You'll Find Peace
A parable of the spiritual path
After much training, a student came to her teacher and confessed that her greatest attainment was passionless indifference—a closed heart in spiritual disguise.
“You can fix your indifference by finding your anger,” the teacher instructed.
The student went away and contemplated this. She allowed the injustices of the world to enter her consciousness and experienced righteous rage. It felt like coming alive again, so she had no trouble indulging it. Gradually, the rage grew more personal, as she became aware of the ways she’d been wronged throughout her life—her mother, sister, best friend, and grown children came to mind.
Over time, however, her anger crystallized into contempt and her heart closed even more to the ones she wanted to love. So she returned to the teacher to ask how she might solve her anger.
“You can fix your anger by finding your fear,” the teacher instructed.
The student went away and contemplated this, too. She saw that her rage was merely the other side of fear’s coin. For every infuriating injustice happening to others, there was fear of that injustice coming for her. For every aggravating moment in her past, there was dread of that moment happening to her again, in one form or another.
Within weeks, her anger was indeed an afterthought, but she saw danger everywhere and was more closed-hearted than ever to her life. Unsure what to do about it, she returned to the teacher.
“You can fix your fear by finding your sadness,” the teacher instructed.
The student went away once more to contemplate this. She saw that fear was not actually pain in and of itself, but resistance to feeling pain. When she opened her heart to the pain around her, sorrow filled her stomach, like an illness that might never go away. When she considered the pain that riddled her past, she felt a tightness in her chest that eventually became a lump in her throat. Sometimes, the sorrow would rise even higher, pushing at the back of her eyes, making them hot and red and itchy.
Enough was enough. She returned to the teacher once more. “How do I solve my sadness?” she beseeched him.
He smiled a small smile, which seemed to contain both apology and levity. When he spoke, she understood why.
“Would you try to solve a river?” he asked her.
She shook her head, dread dawning on her, hope rising in her.
“Our sadness is not to be fixed but to be felt,” he said.
“It's not meant to be solved, it's meant to flow. Where is it dammed up within you?” he asked.
She placed a hand on her chest where it became tight. He nodded. She lifted her hand and pointed to the spot on her neck where she felt the lump in her throat. He nodded again. She placed her palm over both of her eyes, as if to blind herself. When she dropped it, he was nodding again, knowing well the pressure one feels at the back of the eyes. Then he spoke one more time.
“Sadness and peace are not two rivers,” he said. “They flow as one. Feel your sadness, and you will find your peace.”
So she went away once more and learned about the river of pain that runs through every human being from the moment they learn that
love is conditional,
belonging is fickle,
and humaning is vulnerable.
She realized being wounded is simply the way of things.
For the first time since she was a child, she allowed the river of her pain to flow freely. At first, she felt the agony of it might annihilate her—it seemed too big and bottomless for her to bear. But bear it she did, and after ninety seconds she was emptied of it. Exhausted and hollowed-out, she fell asleep.
She awoke, however, to the truth of Etty Hillesum’s words:
You must be able to bear your sorrow; even if it seems to crush you, you will be able to stand up again, for human beings are so strong, and your sorrow must become an integral part of yourself; you mustn’t run away from it…Give your sorrow all the space and shelter in yourself that is its due, for if everyone bears grief honestly and courageously, the sorrow that now fills the world will abate…And if you have given sorrow the space it demands, then you may truly say: life is beautiful and so rich. So beautiful and so rich that it makes you want to believe in God.
In other words, she awoke as we all might awaken one day, on the other side of our pain, in a life so beautiful and so rich it seems God must have something to do with it.
Peace doesn’t come from the absence of pain, it comes with the passage of pain.
Which of the five emotional states—indifference, anger, anxiety, sadness, peace—does this parable evoke most vividly in you? Feel free to share your reactions in the comments—I’ll be sure to reply!
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I live in deep sadness right now, having lost my daughter this past April. Initially I had to learn how to surf the ferocious and unpredictable grief waves that kept showing up. Now, I live with. move with, the depth of her loss...and I also live with and move with the aliveness of her memories. It's strange how such a loss can dispel anger and fear that become so familiar in life. Anger and fear become meaningless when facing into an absent space. Perhaps it's because we live as a three generation household and we are all grieving and extending grace to each other. This grief has taught me to pivot on many levels and grace has truly shown up in new ways. Open-heartedness asks us to surf the waves of emotion, thankfully surfing can become a life long skill.
Holy cow. So good. Let me please be a person that has such a deep and wide well within me that I can hold the truth of both needs taking up space and admit in surrender that neither may ever be quenched.