Part of life's unexpected upsets: stomach upset, seems so trivial when held up to life's other massive problems. But when you’re in the middle of a stomach issue it throws a heavy cloak over everything.
There’s no ignoring stomach pain, the concern that it may be a harbinger for far worse things…
So yesterday morning after eating my wife’s Elizabeth delicious breakfast of boiled egg, beets and crunchy rice and a bowl of sugar stacked cereal (a mix of Rice Krispies, Sugar Frosted Flakes, Lucky Charms, two scoops of oatmeal, some almonds, sugar, honey. I started out to Lama Roberts last session of the Buddhist weekend retreat.
All was fine it seemed, me and my friend Gail arrived early so we sat poolside downstairs from where the meeting was to take place; several attendees joined us. Lots of pleasant banter as is common with these things, fellow meditators are an intelligent and conversant bunch. We went upstairs and took our seats in the rather exotic, timeless space, the stunning and ancient Volcano Agua filling our vision of the south side of the sun-lit Antigua valley.
It was still early morning, and the birds were still announcing the day. A light breeze gave life to the white tent roofing and white ceiling to floor muslin enclosure, an ideal setting for speaking of meditation, Dharma.
As we enter, the usual set up of printed reading materials, Dharma-related two bowls or small baskets labeled Dana (for donations) and printing costs. After all, these things are not charged, but instead, a small ‘dana’ or donation is requested, to cover the many expenses needed to undertake such a ‘suburban retreat’ as we call them. Somehow Lama Mark’s air ticket from Canada has to be covered, dana helps.
Just before entering the airy, open space, we leave our shoes next to several potted plants. Take our seats; and then stand in respect of the time-honored traditions when Lama Robert comes in last, preceded by Laurel his partner. Namaste. He sits, tells us all to sit, usually follows with a bit of humor to settle things, and off he goes into his Dharma talk following a printed program we all have. Just behind him is a large, wood, sitting Buddha carved by a local carver, flowers, a gleaming brass meditation bowl.
A slight breeze causing the white cloth to billow ever so lightly. Lofty being an apt description in the sense that perhaps we are the only group gathering in the Buddha’s name in the entire region this morning. Antigua frequently shows off, and today yet again, its perfect weather doesn’t fail us. What would on the surface seem to be very little evidence of Dukkha, the word for the common human condition: pain, suffering, and unsatisfactoriness.
Perhaps fifteen minutes into his talk I noticed my stomach, it asked for attention, growling, discomfort; immediately my thinking brain started to apply all the usual brakes and tricks to work on what was quickly becoming considerable discomfort. Pulling out all of my techniques and intentions for distracting an up-set gut from years of dealing with this. No success, though, perhaps slowed it up a bit. I mean, the self- healing almost always works, sometimes more thoroughly than other times.
This wasn’t the kind of upset that suddenly sent me flying to the bathroom, no, this was deeper, scarier.
Two hours later, saying our goodbyes, giving my heartfelt thank you to the teacher, Gail and I got in the car and drove to her place to drop her off.
By the time I got home I was miserable, immediately gave my stomach two Alka Seltzer, these are usually little short of miraculous, think it’s all the bubbles, relief, though this time is not forthcoming. Retorcijones we call it in Guatemala, my stomach is in a wrestling match with itself.
Churning, visibly a taut drum, yet distended. My mind recommending everything for getting it out, but it wouldn’t.
Discomfort and stomach pain. Tried all the positional tricks, the classic lying in bed with my butt up in the air, my head settled uncomfortably on top of my crossed forearms. Nothing helped. Soon followed Milk of Magnesia, followed by a Lansoprazole anti-acid stomach pill, followed a while later by Pepto Bismol, and then once again Alka Seltzer.
Elizabeth wasn’t getting the message, evidenced by her insistence I drive her to the pueblo to get eggs and tortillas with her; she wanted this errand to discuss our twenty-one-year-old daughter; an issue had cropped up involving Becky. In the living room after our town trip, the three of us sat.
I launched into this latest of her studying difficulties and her aversion to do the work, she is in college. My wife, later on, airing out her beef about me bringing out the subject matter in Beckys’ face, that I was too forward with our twenty-one-year-old. ‘That was the idea or so I thought’ I shot back, and no I was not angry with her though she strongly insisted I was. My stomach, carried on an unrelated paroxysm of its own, had problems utterly derived from seemingly undefinable issues.
And yet, my stomach and the jagged conversation became tied together.
In fact, with each and every spoken sentence, raised volume, each new sentence, seemed to twist up the dial in my stomach. Not so surprising that as the dial was turned up externally, so it went internally.
So Elizabeth and I were now on a rather unpleasant trajectory. Was it possible I had expressed anger? Certainly was not my intention. Perhaps it seemed as though. Soon Becky departed for Guate city, returning to her apartment to start classes again the following Monday morning.
Because of the odd mix-up, anger display, Elizabeth opted to stay the night in our homes’ guest room. A comfortable room with one of those Antigua Spanish colonial cupola ceilings, someone’s brainstorm from almost ancient times, with its white walls felt cathedral-like.
Good night, sleep, well…
In my room, I did a guided meditation. These always help, never fails. It’s up to us to decide then what constitutes success, how much relief is the backing off from the edge of pain considered a success? I mean, realistically you can’t expect zero, perfect no pain, just not a part of the evenings' program right?
In my room Max my beagle watched me from his sleep cushion under the yellow candlelight glow next to the Buddha on my Mothers’ mirrored bureau, his beagle ears propped slightly in concern, ‘mmm abnormal behavior by my old human…’, (are we even remotely close when we express it this way? Have you never wondered?) he eventually settled into fitful snores.
These walking meditations often do wonders for my gut. I walked for two hours, barefoot, back-and-forth from wall to wall. Thoroughly enjoying the utter luxury, my room, my home, candlelit Buddha gently suggesting: ‘go forth, go forth…’ though stressing: no pressure, no pressure whatsoever as this adds an unwanted desire and insistent tone to the delicate balance, they say at this point that it’s no longer meditation.
The walking (not the meditation part), is an old stomach pain relief technique I discovered years ago in San Pedro Sula, Honduras, but then perfected it late nights in Panama. Stomach pains, stomach balls up in a knot, nothing moving neither forward nor backward, stuck, pain, the bile sensation. We’ve all had it. In Panama, walking around, usually my upstairs living room, everyone sound asleep, so careful not to awaken Elizabeth. I’d walk and walk, eventually walking out of one state and into another. Quite literally.
In San Pedro Sula, on my trips up from Panama, Micro Hotel, my room, my pod, my womb, at midnight, the slow pacing back and forth, sometimes employing a walking meditation attitude, not always, allow the thoughts to flow as they will, always positive, almost qualifies as a Choiceless Attention meditation. The relief comes from a combination of things, the space, my space, literally mine! Endless time, it seems, one hour, two hours? Delicious in its warmth, if a fever is about then the revealing sense of feverish cold, a pleasure all its own. The body going into natural defense mode, haha, along with Alka Seltzer or magnesia or Pepto… lots of water, Mom always said, gallons.
At some point these stomach things just went away, don’t recall just at what point my stomach stopped bothering. Anyway, last night brought this time and tested routine all back again.
Sure enough, after two hours of tracking back and forth, my legs pleasantly worn out, my stomach now clearly moving into peace, as I lay down in bed, upper torso slightly propped up, the relief was obvious. What a joy. Of course: no T.V., slept like a baby, well almost, but then how do we know babies sleep well? No, I slept like me, what I would define as good sleep, no complaints.
Word to the wise: stomach issues are generally shoved way in the back of the shelf. Don’t wait for the night when an inexplicable and excruciating pain at three A.M. forces you at ‘gun point’ to go to Emergency. Get checked.
Life full of joy…
