Old Dogs and Resiliency

Sometimes the world that we have built and in which we live is destroyed through no doing of our own — but we can choose to see this challenge as an opportunity to reconstruct a bolder, cleaner, more spacious, and more fully human life . . .  (paraphrased from Joseph Campbell)

Make of yourself a light.  (Buddha’s last words to his followers)

My mom used to tell a story of an old dog who spent his entire life penned up in a dark shed.  There was one narrow window in the shed through which the sunshine would filter, and throughout the day, the old dog would follow the patch of sunlight cast on the floor from this window, lying in the light and small warmth it offered as the sun moved across the sky.  I can remember sitting at her kitchen table as she told me this story,  knowing that she gave it to me at a time of despair in my own life because it was what she had to give, because in many ways it was reflective of her own life story, of her own resiliency in the face of adversity.

As I write, I am at the Shore again, here to check on things in the aftermath of a devastating storm.  As I look at even the small effects of the storm on this part of the coast, I am so aware of the story of tragedy and loss unfolding further south of here as folks attempt to cope with the catastrophic effects of the storm, and start to rebuild their lives.  Recognizing that this type of disaster brings a terrible sense of vulnerability for its victims, leaving confusion, insecurity, and grief in its wake, makes us want to reach out in any way we can to understand, accept, support, provide . . .

Rebuilding after any kind of change or loss requires persistence, resiliency, and determination, and tends to emerge most easily when we feel psychologically strong, safe, and understood by others.  Supportive relationships are critical to initiating and sustaining any kind of recovery process.  We expect a lot from the public institutions responsible for providing disaster recovery, and hope against hope that they deliver.  But hey, each of us can  be the “sunlight” coming through the window for someone! — we can hold the hope for someone who may have temporarily lost theirs by providing what we can in the way of support, refuge, and strength.

Anna Ornstein, MD, a renowned child psychiatrist who is also a Holocaust survivor, was detained at Auschwitz from the age of fourteen to seventeen.  She recalls a striking distinction between people who were able to retain hope, and those who fell into despair, and much of the difference had to do with receiving and giving support to others, in no matter how small a way.

Extending this kind of support — being the “light,” paying it forward — is a creative act — and  interestingly enough, in the concentration camps, (these being some of the worst disasters of recent generations), creativity of any sort was strictly forbidden.  But those prisoners who secretly found a way to create seemed to retain a sense of hope, and fared better physically and psychologically.

Take the creative opportunity to reach out to someone!  So often we don’t do this out of fear or not knowing how — and people often don’t ask for what they need from others because many of us are not really aware of what it is we need.  Being able to say “I need your encouragement” or “I need you to tell me it’s going to be okay” or “I need you to tell me I can do it” is a gift you give to others.  We can be invaluable sources of strength to others in their process and they to us!

Be the “light” to some “old dog” today.  And, Old Dog?  Your task is to avail yourself of that light!