[2021-04-15] Friendship and illness
A friend recommended an interview by Krista Tippett of Irish poet and philosopher John O'Donohue. Tippett is the host of the On Being podcast, which asks "What does it mean to be human?" O'Donohue was a poet, author, former Catholic priest, speaker and consultant. He died suddenly at the age of 52, just a few months after the interview was recorded.
My friend suggested that I listen to the unedited interview, saying that "the complete conversation is worth every moment." It was. In fact, it was worth it twice over. My first listen was to get a sense of the whole; my second listen was to glean the gems that would form the base of this and other blog posts.
If you listen to the interview, you might find it difficult to grasp the full depth of meaning in O'Donohue's words. He speaks like a poet and academic, but in a voice that is calm and reassuring. I remarked to my friend that it was a bit like trying to recall a dream after you wake up. Still, there is much truth in what he says.
For example, O'Donohue believes that "Friendship is the most beautiful thing." Though you don't get to choose your family, "your friends are almost your archetypal family." He states, "I think there's a natural hunger in the spirit—in everyone's spirit—to be seen, to be understood as you are, and to be received in the space of friendship and love. I always think of friendship and love, ideally, as safe spaces, where you can be as you are without being judged, or without being battered by the force of expectation to be a certain way."
He believes that we offer each other these safe spaces less and less. In fact, he asserts that "most people now worship at the vertical altar of the computer screen and are virtual citizens rather than being actual citizens." He adds that we have become experts in the art of making acquaintances and amateurs in the art of being friends. As a result, "we choose other things to fill the emptiness because of what we don't have."
But there's hope. "If you realize how vital to your whole spirit and being and character and mind and health friendship actually is, you will take time for it." The challenge for many of us, he points out, is that "we have to be in trouble before we remember what's essential." He continues: "Sometimes you only realize what you have when you're almost about to lose it."
Since my cancer diagnosis, I have been reminded of the importance of friends—a category which, in my view, includes relatives, coworkers and people I have known for years. I have worshiped at the altar of work for too long, and that has left limited time for friends.
O'Donohue asks "When is the last time that you had a great conversation—a conversation which wasn't just two intersecting monologues, which is what passes for conversation a lot in this culture. But when had you had your last great conversation in which you overheard yourself saying things that you never knew you knew, that you heard yourself receiving from somebody words that absolutely found places within you that you thought you had lost, and a sense of an event of a conversation that brought the two of you onto a different plane. And then, fourthly, a conversation that continued to sing in your mind for weeks afterwards."
I suspect that many of us would say that it has been a long time since we had such a conversation. COVID has not helped, as it has displaced so many opportunities for deep, face-to-face discussions. O'Donohue's advice is to think of where we might find a chance for a deep conversation, perhaps with a friend. I would add, if not today, then tomorrow. The time for such conversations will come again.
I was also intrigued by O'Donohue's suggestion that the journey within doesn't require sophisticated pursuits. "For the mystical journey, you don't need to go to gurus. You don't need to read all this stuff. All you need is to build into your day some rhythm where you have some silence, stillness and solitude. And everything you need to know will be shown to you." He shares a story of a young monk who goes to see an old monk and says, "Teach me about wisdom." And the old monk says, "Return to your cell and it will teach you everything you need to know."
This portion of the interview reminded me of last night's post on Processing emotions. I like O'Donohue's idea of seeking silence, stillness and solitude as a way of learning what I need to learn.
My friend drew my attention to O'Donohue's reading of "Blessing for a friend on the arrival of illness," which comes at the very end of the interview. I added italics to all the phrases that spoke to me as I face a frontier I did not expect.
Now is the time of dark invitation
Beyond a frontier you did not expect;
Abruptly, your old life seems distant.
You barely noticed how each day opened
A path through fields never questioned,
Yet expected deep down to hold treasure.
Now your time on earth becomes full of threat;
Before your eyes, your future shrinks.
You lived absorbed in the day to day,
So continuous with everything around you,
That you could forget you were separate;
Now this dark companion has come between you,
Distances have opened in your eyes,
You feel that against your will
A stranger has married your heart.
Nothing before has made you
Feel so isolated and lost.
When the reverberations of shock subside in you,
May grace come to restore you to balance.
May it shape a new space in your heart
To embrace this illness as a teacher
Who has come to open your life to new worlds.
May you find in yourself
A courageous hospitality
Towards what is difficult,
Painful and unknown.
May you learn to use this illness
As a lantern to illuminate
The new qualities that will emerge in you.
May the fragile harvesting of this slow light
Help to release whatever has become false in you.
May you trust this light to clear a path
Through all the fog of old unease and anxiety
Until you feel arising within you a tranquility
Profound enough to call the storm to stillness.
May you find the wisdom to listen to your illness:
Ask it why it came, why it chose your friendship,
Where it wants to take you, what it wants you to know,
What quality of space it wants to create in you
What you need to learn to become more fully yourself
That your presence may shine in the world.
May you keep faith with your body,
Learning to see it as a holy sanctuary
Which can bring this night wound gradually
Towards the healing and freedom of dawn.
May grace come to restore my balance. May I learn to use this illness to illuminate new qualities in me, so that my presence may shine in the world.
