Everywhere I Look, Friends Are Better Than Me at Something
Letting go of this but not that.
My father died 30 years ago. He was 71, two years younger than I am today. A seven-year battle with sinus cancer had worn down his body. A month before he died, he wrote a letter to his sister-in-law, Sister Marilyn Thomas, BVM. He spoke about how much he loved life but was now ready to die. He said, “Enuf is enuf.” My dad had surrendered attachment to this life and everything in it.
The Buddha said:
Good men, at all times, surrender in truth all attachments. The holy spend not idle words on things of desire. When pleasure or pain comes to them, the wise feel above pleasure or pain.*
Is Buddha right? For my dad, in his circumstance, of course. What about you and me? Should we aim to let go of all attachments? I wonder.
When we say we love life, doesn’t that mean we love the particularities of our lives? We love our partners and friends, the games we play, and the hobbies we develop.
The attachment to each is the point. It gives our lives meaning.
However, it’s not so simple. Sometimes feelings arise we ought to let go.
Rebecca & Biking
In the top photo, that’s Rebecca yesterday on her bike, starting to pull away from me. Yes, I had to dismount to take the picture. But it wouldn’t have mattered. We were on mile two of the 11-mile Trout Run Bike Trail that circles our community. Up to just a few years ago, I could stay with Rebecca. And sometimes even pass her on the trail’s steep switchbacks.
In the photo below, taken last summer, she is waiting for me as I huffed & puffed my way up the steepest hill.
As she began to pull away from me yesterday, I felt resentment. Where did that come from? Rebecca has always been a better biker than me. And she’s training for a bike ride across Iowa in July. I love her, her commitment to biking, and her dedicated training. I’m attached to all three. Letting go of these attachments makes no sense.
However, I don’t like the source of resentment I felt yesterday. What’s the source? Pride. When we finished, we compared our average speed around the trail. Rebecca’s was 11MPH; mine was 10.9. I can’t go any faster. That wounds my pride.
Ron & Golfing
That fellow below is a new friend and the partner of an old friend, Jeanie. Ron’s a nice guy and an excellent golfer. He looks like a golfer, doesn’t he?
Sigh.
Below, that’s me under the red hat. I’m with friends. And smiling, because I won.
Last summer Ron and I went golfing several times. I was a good high school golfer. Ron’s bigger, stronger, older, and a better golfer. After our first nine holes, I noticed myself clamming up, withdrawing into myself. Ron was out driving, outputting, out everythinging me.
The only thing I was beating Ron at was pouting.
Yet again, my pride was wounded.
Ed, Carol & gardening
Ed & Carol live across the street. Ed was a historian, and Carol was a librarian. They are good friends. That’s them below. They are working hard on their beautiful, award-winning backyard. Off to the right side of their house is a stone archway constructed two years ago by a craftsman who honed his talent on ancient churches in England.
Sigh.
This is the view of our backyard from Ed & Carol’s.
Not really a blue ribbon backyard. But we love the new back porch.
Letting go of this and not that
This morning, I took this photo of Ed & Carol’s backyard from that back porch.
And, for the moment, I felt released from comparing our backyard to theirs.
My golf game to Ron’s.
My biking prowess to Rebecca’s.
At that moment, I also attached myself to Ron’s excellence, Ed & Carol’s creativity, and Rebecca’s commitment.
And put a little distance between my self and my pride.
This story's Buddha quote and background ideas came from Jonathan Haidt’s The Happiness Hypothesis.
