I knew it was coming, but when I saw the words “ROE VERSUS WADE OVERTURNED” splashed across my computer screen, I had no words – only tears.  The Supreme Court’s decision has triggered me in many ways — and I know I’m not alone.  Many women and others throughout this country are in the throes of profound collective trauma and grief.

My feelings after reading about the death of Roe were – and remain –  a mixture of shock, outrage and profound grief.   I came of age during the invigorating and hopeful days of the Women’s Liberation Movement.  My generation worked hard to gain those rights. The Supreme Court’s decision in Roe v. Wade in 1973 validated the gains made by women and the pride we felt:   We had a voice, autonomy and respect that was long denied.   Now our voices, autonomy and respect are being dismissed, and the rights we fought so hard far are now being stripped away.

I have worked hard through the years, as a therapist specializing in traumatic grief, in my own therapy and in my meditation practice,  to let go of the myriad feelings of shame and trauma I’ve experienced as a woman.  The Court’s death knell to the federal recognition of a woman’s right to make responsible choices about her body and life have brought those feelings back to the fore.  It feels like we’re back to the days when it was believed that women’s voices and choices can’t be trusted, and shouldn’t even be heard.

Justice Alito’s words justifying the removal of the constitutional protections granted by Roe reek of misogyny.  The Court’s decision will lead many women like me to re-experience the shame and trauma we have felt in our personal or professional lives.  A particular trigger for me is feeling invisible or left out.  The ruling feels like a stab in the back, bringing back those feelings.  I now remember like it was yesterday my days as an executive in the male-dominated music business, where I often felt invalidated and ignored.  It is retraumatizing now to recall how I would make a point only for it to be ignored.  And then one of my male colleagues would say the exact same thing and it was heard.

So, my grief and outrage are now mingled with fear.  The five hard-liners on the Court rely on the original intent of the Founders to justify their position.  The Constitution doesn’t even mention the word “women.” I am experiencing trauma and fear as I think of whose rights will be stolen next.

We are no longer the United States of America, but a country fractured and divided seemingly beyond repair.  I am grateful that I live in a progressive state that believes in and supports a woman’s right to choose.  Rather than progressing and keeping up with the changing times, we have regressed all the way back to this country’s founding – with white men taking what was not theirs to take.  The five hard-liners’ relied on the words and intentions of the white men who wrote the Constitution many centuries ago.  Many of them were slaveholders and all of whom lived on lands stolen from their rightful owners.  Using “original intent” as a justification to strip away a woman’s right to choose is egregious beyond words.   As the dissenters poignantly wrote “With sorrow — for this court, but more, for the many millions of American women who have today lost a fundamental constitutional protection — we dissent.”

And so do I.

During this time of war in Ukraine, I find myself having thoughts that aren’t particularly “Buddhist”, like wishing Putin would just die.  As Ponlop Rinpoche often says, the greater our negative emotions, the greater our opportunity to transform them into compassion and wisdom.

According to the Buddhist teachings, all beings – even those we consider evil – possess “Buddha Nature” or basic goodness.  We were all born with this basic goodness, and life gets in the way and obscures that basic goodness.  An analogy for basic goodness is the sun:  It is always in the sky, even when obscured by clouds or darkness. Practicing compassion and equanimity with people like Putin is certainly challenging.  I remind myself that  those who commit evil deeds have Buddha Nature, and due to their fears and doubts, it is greatly obscured. However, I have found that practicing for those I consider my enemies greatly increases my capacity to care for all beings, including myself.

The Tibetan Buddhist practice of tonglen, which translates as  “sending and receiving,” is a powerful compassion practice. In practicing tonglen, we take in others’ suffering, and send them healing and compassion.  Each time you breathe in, you take in others’ pain and suffering. You take it into your heart, where it is transmuted, transformed into compassion. Then you breathe out, and send them healing and love.

Tonglen became a mainstay of my healing from the trauma of witnessing firsthand the horrors of 9/11. It was fairly easy for me to practice compassion for myself, those who died and their loved ones, and all others who witnessed the planes crash, whether in person or on the news. What truly healed me was practicing tonglen and developing compassion for the young hijackers who flew the planes into the World Trade Center.  I saw them as confused young men who abandoned their lovingkindness and basic goodness in the name of religious zealotry.

The transformative power of tonglen lies in directly experiencing that we are all born with basic goodness, and that our suffering, borne of clinging to a solid sense of self, obscures our basic goodness and lovingkindness as we move through life’s challenges.

Practicing equanimity is another transformative practice that helps me in difficult times like these..  It is a powerful way to let go of negativity and an “us versus them” mentality.  Vietnamese Buddhist master Thich Nhat Han has said that equanimity involves seeing everyone as equal:  “We shed all discrimination and prejudice, and remove all boundaries between ourselves and others.  In a conflict, even though we are deeply concerned, we remain impartial, able to love and to understand both sides.”[a]

When I find myself getting caught in negativity about Putin, I take a breath and step back.  I’ve made it a practice to look at his eyes and see his fear, isolation and suffering.  As Zen teacher Ezra Bayda says:

 “[F]ear makes our life narrow and dark.  It is at the root of all conflict, underlying much of our sorrow.  Fear also…disconnects us from the lovingkindness that is our true nature.”[b]

Understanding Putin in this way helps me practice compassion and equanimity, not only for him, but for all others who have suffered because of war.  May they all discover the “lovingkindness that is [their] true nature.”

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[a] Thich Nhat Han (1997).  The Heart of the Buddha’s Teaching.  New York:  Broadway Books, p. 162.

[b] Ezra Bayda (Spring 2009). “The Three Things We Fear Most.”  Tricycle.

© 2022.  Beth S. Patterson.  All rights reserved.

As a grief counselor, I have viewed the stages of pandemic life as a grief process, especially now as I  anticipate  a “new normal” in post-pandemic life.  Now that I’m vaccinated and can go mask-less in most places, I feel anxious and uncertain.  I have come to equate mask wearing and social distancing with safety.  Will I now feel more free, or more exposed and unsafe?

Grief counselor J. William Worden’s tasks of mourning model[i]  has helped me navigate the various phases of the pandemic.  Worden describes the four tasks of grief as: (1) accepting the reality of the loss; (2) processing the pain of grief, (3) adjusting to a world without our loved one, or in the case of the pandemic, without our daily routines; and (4) finding an enduring connection with who or what has been lost while embarking on a new life.

We have largely worked through the first three tasks of grief described above.  Generally speaking, we have accepted the reality of the pandemic, (the first task) and processed the pain of the losses endured during the pandemic (the second task).  With respect to the third task, we have made many adjustments to our lives over the last fourteen months, including lockdowns, face masks, social distancing and life on Zoom.

We are now on the threshold of the fourth task of grief: embarking on a new post-pandemic life.  This  task of grief involves creating a balance between remembering our loss and living a full and meaningful life.  I know that despite the difficulties I endured during this time, I have also learned so much, and have so much to appreciate.

Nonetheless, anxiety and uncertainty about the “new normal” abound:  What will the “new normal” look like in a world where I can again socialize without masks and social distancing, as Covid-19 becomes a thing of the past.  Will my favorite lockdown YouTube dogs Olive and Mabel continue their antics with play-by-play from their Scottish sportscaster “dad”?  How can I justify binge watching shows on Netflix and Hulu once the pandemic is over?

There are some things about life during this time of pandemic that I will actually miss.  Being an introvert, I have been comfortable staying home without feeling guilty about it.  Practicing with and getting to know my Buddhist community throughout the world on Zoom has been an enormous benefit, and I’ve developed many new connections and friendships with people I may not have otherwise met.

In navigating this fourth task of grief, I have found it helpful to contemplate and journal about  what this time has meant to me. Here are some questions to contemplate to help you move forward and navigate the  post-pandemic “new normal”:

• What have I learned about myself during this time of pandemic loss?
• What do I want to keep from this grief process, and what do I want to discard?
• Have my values or spiritual beliefs changed during this time, and if so, how?
• What do I appreciate about how I have navigated the pandemic?
• What did I take for granted before the pandemic that I no longer want to take for granted?

May your journey be fruitful, and may you flourish as you shed your pandemic masks.

© 2021. Beth S. Patterson.  All rights reserved.

[i] Worden, J.W. (2009).  Grief Counseling and Grief Therapy:  A Handbook for the Mental Health Practitioner, 4th ed., New York:  Springer.

I seem to wake up to news every day that magnifies the sense of loss that has become an undercurrent of my daily life.  The deaths of loved ones, the daily losses of the pandemic, social injustices and divisiveness can leave me feeling stretched thin, like a rubber band about to break.  I know that my experience is hardly unique, and seems to be universal.  Grief counselors call what we are experiencing “cumulative grief.”

The experience of grief can be physically and emotionally stressful, and that stress is compounded when we are experiencing cumulative grief.   Here are some suggestions for taking care of yourself at this time:

• When your feelings of grief comes up intensely, take a “mindful gap” to breathe and feel the physical sensations. Feel their intensity and then relax and let them go – over and over again if necessary.
• Because grief is so stressful on our bodies, be sure to eat nourishing foods (with the occasional indulgence in “comfort food”), and get plenty of rest.
• Move your body. Mindful walking is one of the most effective tools for moving through grief.
• Allow yourself to cry when tears come. And, at the risk of sounding like my dear departed mother, make sure to drink plenty of water, because crying is dehydrating.
• Maintain your meditation and other spiritual practices. If you can’t meditate some days as long as you had intended, give yourself a break, but continue to practice on a regular basis.
• Solitude can be helpful, but isolation is not. Avoid the urge to isolate yourself.  Reaching out to just one person a day can help us avoid the
• Express your emotions in journaling, painting, collage or other creative form of expression. The word “ex-press” means to push out – We’re pushing out all the intense feelings and giving them space so that they’re workable.
• Talk to others who can listen. If your feelings are particularly intense or distressing, unduly interfering with day-to-day functioning or do not subside to a manageable level over time, reach out to a grief counselor or another professional trained in working with grief.

© 2021 Beth S. Patterson.  All rights reserved.

DISCONNECTED

I connect via pixels on the computer screen,

And disembodied voices on the phone,

Pinging from cell tower to cell tower.

I miss warm hugs with family and friends.

Virtual hugs just aren’t the same

As a good bear hug.

I yearn to reach through the screen and touch those pixels,

Hoping they will transform into

A body I can touch, a hand I can hold.

And, then there’s the warning that pops up on my screen:

“Your internet connection is unstable.”

No, I want to say.  It’s being disconnected that’s unstable.

Yet, I do have my body.

The ground under my feet.

A warm purring cat at my side.

I remember to breathe, to feel,

And connect to what is real.

Right now in this very moment.

© 2020 Beth S. Patterson.  All Rights Reserved.

Buddhism teaches that the cause of of our suffering is clinging to what we believe to be our “self” or “ego.” When we feel unsafe or uncertain, our habitual defenses arise, and we tend to cling even more defensively to our ego in an attempt to gain ground in groundlessness. But there is good news: Through mindfulness practice, we come to understand that there is no such thing as a solid “I”, and we can relax our urge to control what is not controllable.

From the Buddhist perspective, nothing exists independently. Therefore, try as we might, there is nothing we can point to that is “I.” Through meditation and contemplative investigation, we come to understand that our identities are not solid, independent or permanent. Who we are, as well as the world around us, is ever-changing, dependent on what arises moment by moment. Understanding and experiencing egolessness is the key to our freedom and emotional health.

In her book The Places that Scare You[a], the American Buddhist nun and teacher Pema Chodron describes the ego’s attempt to gain ground in groundlessness as follows:

“We can try to control the uncontrollable by looking for security and predictability, always hoping to be comfortable and safe. But the truth is that we can never avoid uncertainty. This not knowing is part of the adventure, and it’s also what makes us afraid.”

Understanding that nothing truly exists independently or permanently leads inextricably to understanding that everything is groundless. We can either deal with the basic groundlessness of all phenomena in a healthy way, allowing ourselves to feel our suffering and lean into our fears, or by hanging on for dear life to a sold sense of “I”, which I call the defensive ego. The development of a healthy ego is necessary to mediate life’s changes and be grounded in groundlessness.

Both psychotherapy and Buddhism strive to create a safe place to develop grounding in groundlessness and ambiguity. As Buddhist psychotherapist Mark Epstein has said, meditation practice [as well as psychotherapy] promotes “change and development within the ego, rather than beyond it”. Epstein posits that a healthy ego is essential, stating that meditation seeks to produce “an ego no longer obsessed with its own solidity.”[b]

Similarly, in Freud’s construct of the id, ego and superego, the ego is the executive function of consciousness, mediating between the impulsive drives of the id and the judgmental and self-critical superego. Therefore, one of the primary goals of therapy is to help clients develop a healthy ego, and guide them to overcome their habitual defenses and unhealthy clinging to a solid sense of self out of a fear of groundlessness.

 Many of my psychotherapy clients have “perfected” deeply ingrained defenses that they use to, in Pema Chodron’s words, “control the uncontrollable.” It is my job to help my clients discover the fears and negative beliefs that have created their dysfunctional habitual tendencies, and with time and practice, let them go.

Another ego defense is “spiritual bypassing”, or the misuse of spiritual practice to avoid dealing with difficult feelings and issues. Developing a healthy ego is the middle way between the two extremes of solidifying the ego or attempting to forego it altogether.

Because of our emotional histories and developmental wounding, living in ambiguity and groundlessness can be fraught with difficulties, and lead to defense mechanisms that prevent us from living fully. For example, some of us may see things in black and white terms, because ambiguity creates a sense of fear or anxiety. Those with disordered eating tend to control their food intake as the only way they know to control the uncontrollable. Others may seek to numb themselves with drugs or alcohol or tend to use spiritual bypassing to not feel the sufferings of life.  We may also tend toward perfectionism, rather than experience the ambiguity of imperfection.

Another defensive posture of ego is to hold on to the stories of blame or shame we tell ourselves about our lives. As a psychotherapist, I have heard the refrain “but that’s just the way I am” so often. We sometimes cling for dear life to our stories, closing ourselves to a more vibrant life and connection to ourselves and others. The process of therapy, as well as meditation, helps us loosen our grip on our stories and our solid sense of self.

Paradoxically, telling our stories in therapy is a way to loosen their grip. As Mark Epstein says, “The point of telling one’s story in therapy is to be released from the hold it has over you, to set yourself free, not to reinforce the way it defines you. If there is one thing I have learned from my years as a Buddhist therapist, it is that we need not be limited by our stories. We are much more mysterious than they are.”[c]

All of these defense mechanisms arise out of a fear of vulnerability and being open to all that life has to offer. Our emotional wounds often prevent us from seeing the complex nature of the people and events in our lives. Possibilities for growth and renewal can only arise when we are able to rest in the unknown space of groundlessness, let ourselves feel our suffering and let go of our sense of a solid “I”. If we can take a breath and rest in that space, we see that life is truly spacious, vibrant, alive and full of possibility.

The experience of selflessness with the grounding of a healthy ego opens us from the claustrophobia of self-centeredness into the spaciousness of possibility and connection. When we let go of obsessively clinging to a solid “I”, we open to an understanding that we all experience joy, sorrow, fear, anger and all of the vicissitudes of life. We transform the complaint “why me?” into an understanding of “yes, everyone.”   In that space of openness, we can let go of fear and increase our capacity for connection and love.

_______________________________

[a] Chodron, P. (2002). The Places that Scare You: A Guide to Fearlessness in Difficult Times. (Boulder: Shambhala Publications.

[b] Epstein, M. (1988). “ The Deconstruction of the Self: Ego and “Egolessness in Buddhist Insight Meditation. The Journal of Transpersonal Psychology, Vol. 20, No. 1, pp. 61-69.

[c] Epstein, M. “If the Buddha Were Called to Jury Duty.” Tricycle Magazine. (Winter 2017).

© 2018 Beth S. Patterson. All rights reserved.

 As a new Red Cross Disaster Mental Health volunteer, I had no idea what to expect in my first visit to a hurricane shelter. Would the Hurricane Irma evacuees be freaked out? Would they be unable to cope? Would they feel helpless or hopeless? What I saw was actually the opposite. I learned the true meaning of resilience in the face of disaster in that hurricane shelter.

The shelter residents I visited, some of whom were homeless even before the storm, and others who had no idea if they would have a home to return to, displayed optimism and strength despite their circumstances. I have been contemplating what made them so resilient. I learned that their resiliency came from caring for each other, rather than isolating themselves in despondency and despair. In addition, many of the evacuees called on their religious or spiritual strengths, and were able to create meaning from their traumatic experiences. These are all keys to resilience in the midst of difficult life transitions.

Keys to Resilience

Columbia University psychology professor and resilience researcher George Bonnano has described what he calls “multiple and sometimes unexpected pathways to resilience”[i] in the face of profound grief and trauma. I witnessed a myriad of these pathways to resilience among those in the hurricane shelter: the ability to find meaning and purpose in life in difficult circumstances; compassion and care for others; the belief that we can learn and grow from all life experiences, both positive and negative; the ability to call on our spiritual beliefs and strengths in challenging times; and the ability to maintain a sense of humor.

Man’s Search for Meaning

Viktor Frankl, a psychiatrist who survived the horrors of the Holocaust, describes meaning making as a key to survival in his seminal book, Man’s Search for Meaning.[ii] Frankl concluded that those who survived the Holocaust and thrived thereafter had found meaning in their circumstances. They chose to call on their spiritual strengths, love and compassion with the knowledge that every moment of living, even in suffering, can have meaning. Frankl’s fellow Auschwitz prisoners who banded together to help and protect each other were more likely to survive than those who gave in to hopelessness and despair.

Resilience in a Hurricane Shelter

The Red Cross hurricane shelter I visited in Miami was vast, and seemed impersonal at first glance. However, many of the hundreds of evacuees housed there transformed their cots into mini-homes that expressed their diverse personalities. Some came to the shelter alone; others came as multi-generational families. It didn’t matter if they were rich or poor, Black, White or Latino. They created a community and bonds based on their shared experience.

I saw individuals bond and create what seemed like small village communities within the larger community of the shelter. I witnessed deep listening to each other. When we open ourselves to hearing others’ life stories and beliefs, we develop deeper respect and empathy and an appreciation of our shared sorrows and joys. This in turn gives us further strength and resilience.

I have seen time and again in my work as a psychotherapist the healing power of compassion for others. In fact, I have often prescribed volunteering to depressed clients as a way to ease their tunnel vision and self-focus. When we allow room for others in our hearts, we gain a broader perspective about our own problems. We feel less alone as we share our humanity.

The compassion displayed by the hurricane evacuees, in the midst of trauma and life-changing uncertainty, was truly inspiring. For example, I saw a young woman befriend and support a frail older woman, feeding her and advocating for her medical care. I saw a group of seemingly hardened Key West men talking together about their life experiences – both shared and disparate — from a place of true empathy and caring.

Many of the evacuees told me of their strong faith and inner resolve, and how it helped them at this deeply challenging time. In my work as a grief counselor and psychotherapist, I have heard similar expressions of spiritual strength in the face of adversity As a result, my therapeutic approach is strength rather than pathology based. I see my work as helping clients realize their inherent and innate strength and goodness.

A number of evacuees wanted to tell me their life stories, some of which were heartbreaking to hear. As a therapist with a specialty in narrative therapy, I know that people create meaning by telling their life stories, as a way to reinforce that their lives have had, and continue to have, meaning.

The amount of laughter I heard in the hurricane shelter was a refreshing surprise. I was reminded of the many hospice team meetings I have attended, hearing reports of imminent death, grief and family challenges interspersed with many moments of levity. A sense of humor brings a sense of perspective, and takes us out of the tunnel vision of hopelessness and despair. Many of the men and women in the hurricane shelter wanted to tell me jokes and funny life stories. It was an honor to share their joy in the midst of sorrow, and it was an honor to be reminded in such a poignant way of our shared humanity and resilience.

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[i] Bonnano, G. (2004). Loss, Trauma and Human Resilience: Have We Underestimated the Human Capacity to Thrive after Extremely Aversive Events? American Psychologist, Vol. 59, pp. 20-28.

[ii] Frankl, V. (1946, 2006). Man’s Search for Meaning. Boston: Beacon Press.

© 2017 Beth S. Patterson. All rights reserved.