The Black Dog and Other Stories
You can outdistance that, which is running after you, but not what is running inside you. -Rwandan Proverb
In the face of stress, we either become bewildered or embark on a quest for understanding.
This blog is a few reflections on this quest — both mine and potentially yours. Time and encounters with emotional anguish have only fuelled my determination to delve deeper into this exploration. Mastering this journey means understanding the correct questions to ask and the questions that offer no profitability in this journey to waking up.
By confronting and grasping our pain, insights often emerge. Our approach to this exploration, the lens through which we view our pain, is pivotal. It demands genuine introspection, bravery, persistence, kindness, and resilience.
Penning this blog is an extension of my introspective journey, as is my commitment to waking up. While life's challenges persist, my perspective on them has evolved. My intent isn't to present myself as a fully realised individual but rather to be transparent about my ongoing journey, inviting you to embark on your own. I won't falsely claim an absence of sorrow; my path has evolved toward a less 'fixed' view of people, situations and objects as they arise and change. Past experiences— family, meditation retreats, therapy, monastic life, and working with clients— have all enriched my understanding.
I offer snapshots of the human experience as a guide based on my understanding of my life thus far. While navigating this journey alongside me in this blog, I hope you craft your guides. A map is a representation; the actual terrain is uniquely your own lived and felt experience.
SELF-HATRED
I distinctly recall a moment at fourteen. A school friend showed me a photo of several students outside our boarding school. Seeing an unfamiliar face, one I instantly felt irrational hate for, I inquired about the boy's identity. My friend's reply, "It's you," sent shockwaves through me. This shockwave was my initial conscious brush with self-hatred.
I use "self-hatred" deliberately, for that's how the moment felt. Growing up in the demanding atmosphere of Johannesburg, South Africa, in a system of toxic apartheid, in a family of anger, criticism and humiliation, the culture of despair and aggression was inescapable. Amidst the harsh environment of my boarding school, I straddled a middle ground, neither excelling nor lagging. Outwardly, I may have seemed OK, but internally, my emotions were tumultuous and unnamed. I was a 'daydreamer' pushing my inner pain into forgetfulness and reverie.
That this strong self-hatred existed, is evident in hindsight. With so many conflicting expectations, it was inevitable. The weight of this self-criticism would compel me to seek relief, although not always successfully in the right places.
In my late teens, I sought refuge in music, alcohol, sex, and drugs. Fate led me to a Buddhist monastery in West Sussex at nineteen. Under Ajahn Sumedho's guidance, I immersed myself in Buddhist teachings and meditation, later ordaining as a monk. The monastery emphasised intuitive awareness and its integration into everyday life.
After five years, I left the monastic life due to a family tragedy. I became a psychotherapist, started a family, and immersed myself in work. Hidden beneath was a self-critical undercurrent, driving me constantly "be more." However, after two decades of marriage, my wife sought separation. This profound upheaval posed a stark choice: awaken to life or be eternally trapped in sorrow.
I am reminded of Subrahma's plea to the Buddha: "I am always anxious in this mind; this mind is always agitated about problems present and future. Please tell me how to find the release from fear".
My wife's decision to part ways led me through my darkest hours, confronting my deepest fears and sorrows head-on. Although depression had always been within me, I'd been oblivious to its nature, masking it with overwork, stress, and various distractions. It felt as though my wife had died, even though she was still alive. The stability and constancy I believed in, was shattered without apparent warning, I was blind. Overwhelming humiliation consumed me. But in the words of Hubert Benoit, it was possible to transform this feeling.
Hubert Benoit, a French doctor with a keen interest in Zen, offered profound insights into the nature of suffering. He believed deeply in the transformative power of suffering, once noting, "Suffering, in its humbling effect, changes us. This change can either create dissonance within us or cultivate inner harmony. If we resist the feelings of humiliation, it magnifies our inner chaos. However, if we accept it without opposition, it fosters our inner peace." Benoit elaborated, "Upon realising that all negative emotions are essentially feelings of humiliation, I stopped disguising them with other labels. This clarity allowed me to face these feelings without internal distractions, standing still amidst them." He added, "When I cease to react to my feelings of humiliation, I unexpectedly find a haven of safety – the sole place of absolute security.". (Adapted from the Essay - A Journey from Humiliation to Humility - by Corrado Pensa)
THE BLACK DOG
This Black Dog is a metaphor for our dark moods, depression, stress and anxiety. The black dog can be fierce, cruel, dark and feral. It can be protective, guiding and a great friend.
An ancient Scottish fairy tale passed down from pre-Christian Celts speaks of two brothers encountering each other on a mystical mountain. One ascends, guided by a shimmering golden thread, while the other descends, forcefully tugged by a fierce black dog on a chain.
When they meet halfway, they pause, sharing tales of their journeys. Both speak of similar challenges - menacing boulders, cliff edges, and wild creatures. However, they also revel in recounting shared joys - the scent of blooming flowers, breathtaking vistas, and captivating wildlife. Choosing to continue their journey, the golden thread elevates one, and the black dog pulls the other down.
Confident in his understanding of the path, the ascending brother boldly cuts the golden thread, thinking he can navigate independently. Although the encounters are as described by his sibling, he now faces malevolent spirits guarding each step. Without the guiding thread, he is continually repelled and eventually transformed into a guardian spirit, forever defending a vast chasm.
While the story's original intent is unclear, it paints a striking portrait of life's dual possibilities - elevation and downfall. The narrative highlights that, although both brothers encounter similar hurdles and joys, their experiences differ fundamentally due to the influences of the golden thread and the black dog.
The story suggests that the ascending brother, in his overconfidence, severs his guiding force. Overwhelmed and lost, his once-promising journey turns bleak. The chasm he guards might symbolise the void of his dashed hopes and ambitions.
The descending brother's fate remains mysterious. Shackled to the embodiment of rage, avarice, and primal instincts, he struggles. Yet, his future is open-ended, giving our imaginations free rein. Did his relentless descent ever end? Did he discover a serene landscape or a bustling settlement? Could he ever free himself from the chain or find joy?
Initially, we might envy the brother with the golden thread while pitying the one tethered to the black dog. But as the tale unfolds, it becomes clear that both are uncertain.
Since ancient Celtic times, the "black dog" metaphor has represented irritability, melancholy, and rage. A common adage for sullen children was, "The black dog's sitting' on the back of your neck." The Barghest, a mythic giant black dog from Northern England, embodies the sinister. Shakespeare, too used darkness as a metaphor, especially in Macbeth's descent into wickedness.
Dogs can be both threatening protectors and loving companions. I recall, growing up in apartheid South Africa, the intimidating image of white policemen with aggressive Alsatians, a symbol of suppression. Yet, I fondly remember 'Jet', my gentle black Labrador.
The "black dog" encapsulates the emotional states that trouble us and harm others. It can signify profound despair or fleeting melancholy. Often, it lurks subtly on the fringes of our minds, catching us off guard. Sometimes, our self-narratives might be outdated. The belief of being inadequate might not be accurate.
The brother dragged down by the black dog was the one I could relate to. I was fortunate that I never felt I had the golden thread; I was suffering too much. The ‘separation’ was a catalyst, taking me to the darkest hours of my life. This event opened the floodgate of harrowing memories, from childhood to the present, usually on my own in an evening, sick with despair. Sometimes the suffering was so intense I felt I could not breathe. On a level, I understood I was burning through ‘karma’; I had to go through this cleansing, this humiliation; I faced the only option - to wake up or live eternally guarding the chasm of despair.
WALKING IN THE WIND
I ventured into the South Downs on a brisk day with a companion. The wind was blowing fiercely, almost like nature's challenge. Initially, my mind began to grapple with it, wishing for a calmer atmosphere to accompany our journey. The wind seemed like an intruder in our peaceful stroll. However, without a cue, my companion remarked, "Isn't the wind exhilarating?" That simple statement made me reconsider.
I thought, "Why not embrace the wind?" At that moment, our walk transformed. The wind, which had felt intrusive, now added a refreshing layer to our experience. It was pure winter magic, capped off with delightful tea and cake. Reflecting on it, I pondered whether the wind or my perception of it disturbed me. Such is the power of perspective. A single change in thought can redefine our experience and potentially shape subsequent events.
Life often presents complexities, especially in work, finances, relationships, health, and ageing. And while my perspective about the wind changed instantly, it isn't always easy to switch our viewpoints on these weightier issues, even with the wisest of counsel.
Stress, anxiety and depression, in many ways, can be likened to the "black dog" states. It could be physical, mental, or simply the by-product of change. The Buddha encapsulated this sensation with the term 'dukkha', which in Pali describes the jarring of a cartwheel not turning smoothly because of excess grit in the axle hole. This analogy perfectly captures our life. Just as a cart cannot always avoid grit, we cannot evade life's challenges. However, the trick lies in not unnecessarily letting this grit or stress build-up.
Many of us nurture dreams of a tranquil future – be it through an ideal job, the companionship of a soulmate, or financial stability. Yet, life presents hurdles, be it illness, personal losses, lingering regrets, or unmet aspirations. These challenges, in their essence, grant us a unique opportunity to reconnect with the pure-heartedness of childhood. Reflecting on this, Jesus once shared with his disciples, When asked about the greatest in the kingdom of heaven, he presented a child and proclaimed, 'I tell you, unless you change and embrace the simplicity of children, you cannot truly experience the kingdom of heaven’.
Our minds conjures narratives, analysing every action and circumstance and in this state peace is hard to find. The Buddha highlighted the significance of understanding humiliation and pain. While it might appear negative, the rationale resembles a doctor's approach. To heal, one must first identify the humiliation of pain. By comprehending the humiliation of pain, we can uncover its causes and work towards relief.
In this quest, the teachings and theories of humiliation and pain become our diagnostic tools. They aid us in understanding our unique experiences and finding what works best for our healing. We can chart our path to a calmer, more centred life with insight and guidance.
True happiness, which is unaffected by external circumstances, is a skill within everyone's reach to master. (Rory Singer)