The Zen of Loss

I was talking with my friend A about hedonism today and it occurred to me that I tend to attract two kinds of folks in my life: bohemians (many of whom are hedonists) and hippies (many of whom live ascetically).

For much of my life I believed that hedonism was the opposite of asceticism. But our talk reminded me of a personal epiphany I had a year or more ago, that hedonism isn't actually the opposite of asceticism at all. I think deep asceticism is actually the heart of hedonism.

An ascetic seems to give up all the fluff of life. All the meat, all the neat stuff. But it dawned on me that one doesn't do that because that stuff's not great. But because the greatness of that stuff is intrinsic to everything. If you get a buzz from fine clothing, when you're poor, you're nothing. If your buzz comes from sex, then when you're alone, you're bereft. If your buzz comes from food, real hunger is the end of the world. But if you strip away every distraction, and look hard enough til you can experience that buzz from BREATHING, then there is nothing in life that is anything but bliss. An ascetic's so far into hedonism, they don't need the stuff anymore. Everything bestows that joy.

I bring this up because it's core to what's going on with me right now. I've said to many that I'm feeling much better lately. A lot of folks probably don't even know what was so bad in the first place, so in a nutshell here's what's been bad: a lifetime of PTSD, depression and social anxiety that spiraled into full blown chronic panic attacks for the last 7 years. And this last year I was so shut down I barely functioned at all.

So, when I say I'm feeling much, MUCH better, I mean that. I feel FUNCTIONAL. I cannot stress how much of a rush that is when you've felt inert every day for a year or more. I'm still scared, I'm still shy, I still struggle with sleep. But there's no similarity between functional depression and nonfuctional depression. It hurts terribly when it's moderate depression. But when it's so bad you can't do anything, it makes that moderate depression look like a half-hour cartoon special about Strawberry Shortcake singing about how berry, berry wonderful everything is. Moderate, severe; no relation. I feel better than both of those.

What happened to bring that about? That brings me back to the musing on asceticism. I got a flat tire three weeks ago. I'm poor--I could manage a tire, probably. With difficulty. It's money that should go elsewhere. But another thing will soon break on my old car and there's no way I could afford to fix anything more than a tire. I'd been meaning to get rid of the car for ages now. I can't afford a car. But the idea of getting rid of a car, while you're driving it to the store in the snow, is too scary to think about for long. I've been living in mortal terror the car would die on me. And basically, it did.

I melted down. I clambered into bed for six hours and hoped I'd never wake up. The universe cruelly denied my wish. I got up, but the hopelessness was gone. I had a meeting the next day I didn't want to miss. I walked to the credit union, by the bus stop that would go to where I needed the following day. I timed the walk. I got money from the ATM for a bus pass. I came back and checked the bus schedule. It occurred to me the curse was a blessing. It was the best season to start walking--spring. It was the most readily adapted-to thing I could have break down--much better than an eviction or a heart attack. It was timed and chosen exactly suited to my needs.

I felt more actualized and accomplished than I had in maybe 7 years. I hate cars. I always have, even when I was too scared to live without one. They're cop outs. They're crutches. I realized I didn't need one. But I would need to plan. Plan my days around bus schedules and around grocery store runs. I'd need to plan my weeks around laundry trips to the nearest laundromat, miles away.

It brought me out of my house. It brought me out in the sun. It forced me to exercise. It forced me to eat small (only so much I can carry back home). It put me next to people who I started talking to again. It gave me energy and a feeling of control. It made me feel human again. I started enjoying sun, clouds, wind, sky, rain. I'm enjoying life more because the simple stuff is harder, so it's harder to take for granted. It gives me less time to endlessly fret over the big stuff.

I carry a backpack with me everywhere; pen, notebook, book, phone, water, shopping bag. I feel so much more alive. Everyone has their own way to that feeling. I don't recommend everyone give up their cars. But I wish the feeling on everyone, no matter what you have to do to get to the feeling.

I remember now how great I felt living in SF without a car. And while there were other factors more key, I know that I began to spiral down when I got a car. So, while there are still other factors, some more crucial, I feel like I'm ready to start the slow spiral back up. On foot.