Only Don’t Know.
Picking up a theme from last Friday: Just, don’t know, okay? It’s better that way.
It’s a tenet in Zen made famous by zen master Sunryu Suzuki, Roshi:
Prelude: Here’s how this worked for me:
One of the many character faults I harbored early in my tenure as a principal was an incessant worry about certain future events, typically “angry parents”, especially if I anticipated those events would be fraught with conflict. As a school principal, you have ample opportunity to engage interactions and confrontations like this, lucky us. Most people I would assume, and the vast majority of educators I have found, are conflict-averse. We can work ourselves up to almost “panic mode” in advance of an event that we believe might involve high, especially negative, emotion. Taken to an extreme, one potential outcome of persistent and chronic worry, if one does not have ways of mitigating that stress, can be the development of sometimes severe and debilitating anxiety disorders.
Turns out, worry is a figment of the imagination. And humans can have WILD imaginations. And like I said, early in my tenure, I didn’t have an understanding nor a skillset to mitigate my innate worry. Until I simply learned to let it all go. But I needed a way to do that. I needed some Edlering.
Turns out there was 2500 year old wisdom “out there” waiting for me to discover it.
I learned, through the study of Eastern wisdom philosophy that included Taoism and Zen, a way to frame an outlook on life that eliminated most worry from my life. And the more I understood and applied it in the emotional cauldron of my principal office, the more trust and confidence I gained in understanding its Truth. Because as I reflected on those tense interactions after they ended, EVERY single conflict/interaction NEVER was as bad as I created it in my imagination through worry. That doesn’t mean they were actually pleasant; it’s just that worry added sometimes significant layers of stress that never came to pass. We truly can be, sometimes, our own worst enemy.
That wisdom I learned was captured by Suzuki Roshi’s quote above. It took a long time to understand what “beginner’s mind” meant in practice, but with practice and consistency, it was a life-saver for me. Beginner’s mind is “only don’t know” mind.
Don’t know mind helped me to truly understand that worry is one of our worthless emotions. Worry serves no function; and as long as you enter into each moment with sincerity and an open heart (having banked a certain skillset on how to deescalate conflict admittedly does help), then there is no need for worry.
Giving yourself permission, trusting in the wisdom, to “only don’t know,” is incredibly liberating; but more to the point, it frees you up to be 100% “in the moment,” without any preconceived notions or intentions about what should be happening, or worry that you are doing it wrong. Being in the moment with “only don’t know mind” is about allowing the uniqueness of that once and sacred moment to dictate to you your proper response or way of being. This is what formed the foundation of the GRACE model I posted a few weeks ago. A mantra I use often to highlight the sanctity of each moment, even those of high drama, is “there is significance to every Soul encounter.” (I used to say “human” encounter but there is also significance to all other kinds of encounters, with living and non-living beings, in our lives—if one were really serious about living a mindful and soulful existence, that is). Every encounter unfolds in ways surprising that cannot ever be fully anticipated. There is awe and wonder to be found there, in those moments. And that is one key to “only don’t know mind.”
I still worry about things, but I’m working on it. Only don’t know helps, A LOT! (After all, 2500 year old wisdom must have SOME legs to it if it’s hung around that long!) Only don’t know is a way of being, NOT a practice to apply only in certain situations; and I want to share with you next how that way of being will, I trust, serve us well at a critical time in our caregiving with Dad. Yes, this IS about Dad so…
…on to the rest of our story—already in progress.
In Dr. Ken Hillman’s TEDTalk I linked to last week, he shared what he called the “conveyer belt model of healthcare” that is still so prevalent in most first world countries. Do you remember it from the TEDTalk or do you recognize it as our nowadays reality?
A trauma of some kind (accident, stroke, heart attack, etc.) happens in the community and 911 is called. And on the conveyor belt we ride.
If you were to be completely honest with me, isn’t THIS what you expect yourself, for yourself or for anyone in your love proximity who is in great distress? It’s our ingrained “go to” response. Admittedly, it IS mine too! And this is absolutely a great thing! But we are talking about Dad here, a medically fragile elder, which surfaces a dilemma. It was Dr. Hillman’s point that we’ve been enculturated, taught, that this is the way it should be, for any happenstance regardless of present circumstance. He just asks simply, “Really? Even for our frail elderly who are dying?”
In his book “A Good Life to the End: Taking control of our inevitable journey through ageing and death,” Dr. Hillman says (my paraphrasing here),
Hospitals are not the place to go if you are going to die. They weren’t built, and they still aren’t made, for ‘the dying.’ They are great places to go for acute trauma or for emergency procedures that involve a single diagnosis—ESPECIALLY if you are young! They are not meant for the frail elderly who exhibit often multiple co-morbidities and chronic conditions, even if there was one thing that actually prompted someone to call for the ambulance (like a stroke or heart attack). The conditions facing the frail elderly are not medical conditions.
And THAT was my mom’s situation in a nutshell. Back in March of 2016, Trevor took mom to the emergency room because of a severe respiratory distress episode—a symptom of her diagnosed COPD (chronic obstructive pulmonary disease). She was admitted and immediately given oxygen, antibiotics, and liquids intravenously. But she also had co-morbidities, some we knew about (she’d had part of a lung removed due to cancer, was on oxygen at home, had asthma and severe allergies, high cholesterol, and hypertension). She was on multiple medications. And she likely, very likely, had additional co-morbidities that were not immediately known to us (like perhaps chronic heart failure).
Although mom initially rebounded, just as we expected her to because there were no signs whatsoever that she was actively dying, and though she was cognitively very sound at first, within 24 hours of being admitted, she slipped into a coma and died three days later in her hospital room. Mom was 83 years old. She was medically fragile. Looking back on it now, she shouldn’t have died in the hospital. We talked out loud about hospice both at a facility and at home but the attending physicians indicated just the act of transporting her to a different site away from her hospital bed might end her life. We didn’t want that.
Knowing what we all know now, I do wonder if we would have done anything different for mom; for us.
“The conditions facing the frail elderly are not medical conditions.”
We ARE doing something different for Dad. Maybe that’s our answer.
By serving Dad through his dying, we’re attempting to get off this conveyor belt. But it’s not easy—‘cuz there is a critical “decision-point” at a specific point on the conveyor belt where “all bets may be completely off the table.” That one point in time determines all that follows for good or for ill—despite one’s best intentions and even planning. And we are preparing for that moment the best we can right now; by coming to grips with the fact the best way we can prepare is to accept the fact we will have no idea what that time will be like, for Dad, for us, for the family; nor can we predict how we’ll be feeling with the emotions that will surface at that precise moment. So…
…we don’t know what will happen right there. And maybe it’s best we “only don’t know.”
The Two Ways of “Only Don’t Know.”
There are two distinct ways of being when it comes to beginner’s mind or “only don’t know.”
Way one—a truly “I ‘don’t know’ what to do.” Or: “I don’t know what comes next.” Or: “I’m at a loss; I need help.” Way one means you haven’t thought about a plan or haven’t been taught or Eldererd (or didn’t care to listen if you had); or you haven’t explored other possibilities or questioned the status quo (e.g. all the conveyer belts in life); or you are not prepared at all, or you just never got around to it. “I’ll have time later to think about it! Too busy doing other things now.” Way one is where you have no toolkit, or skillset, or knowledge base from which to proceed. Using the GRACE model, this “way one” means you have nothing to draw upon when GRACE asks you to “consider what will best serve.” Because you have no idea. Way one is the way of the novice. Being in way one promotes paralysis, and maybe even panic, when it comes to critical decision-making.
Way one isn’t a good “way” to be—especially at the crucial moments in life you know are on the horizon and that which require your engagement. Like death. Like dying. (See the folly in that?) And yet, way one is always the starting point of learning. So, it’s really not a bad thing at all. But we have to be learners. That’s what humans are supposed to be.
We are all novices at the threshold of death. But we don’t have to stay there.
Way Two—is the way of courage and making oneself comfortable with the uncertainty. To truly “don’t” know. For certain, study, prepare, gain a skillset and knowledge-base, but don’t spend time believing that all the research and detailed plans devised for “that time” will pan out perfectly, because when “that time” comes, the circumstances will look and feel so different from what you assumed they would be when you devised the plan. “Don’t be so arrogant or bull-headed or tone deaf to think you’re going to know what that moment will be like, and the emotions that will be present or not, and how you, let alone anyone else, will react and respond.” Counting on “your knowing” will run you the risk of forcing the situation to fit your plan, or panic if things don’t go to plan (‘cuz they won’t!) which means you might miss something important in the midst of it all. Unlike “way one,” “way two” is the intentional “don’t know” because you do have a foundation from which to consider the best way forward. Way two is the “don’t worry” way. Plan and prepare and get organized, yes, but in “that moment” on the conveyer belt, “way two” is the choice to…
“…just don’t. Just don’t “know.” Instead…
“…just be.”
I’m not intentionally trying to confuse the notions of having plans v. having planned. Because, their IS a difference. Case in point:
I really embraced a concept that actually, and ironically, presented itself to me when I was a principal and had to create a training for my staff on the proper responses if, heaven forbid, we were ever faced with an active shooter emergency on campus. Yes, we, all schools, train for that!
The officer who conducted the bulk of the heavy and emotional training said something that set off bells of understanding for me—a life truism that extended WAY beyond the confines of this training, a training no one wished we were ever going to have to need to enact live. He said this: “In a real emergency, any plans you have are worthless. Don’t waste your time trying to find them or read them—they won’t work. The situation that arises can never be fully predicted and so any moments you take to find or work “the plan” are wasted moments. It is likely the plan you may have spent hours developing and writing and formalizing will NOT be what is important to actually do “in the moment.”
And then he said: “But having planned is priceless.”
I trust you see the subtlety there and the profound truism.
THAT is “don’t know mind,” and THAT is GRACE.
So we…
We’re going to choose, as hard as it may be, the way of Way Two. And that will be okay. Way Two is, in fact, also the path of least suffering. For were we to enter into that one crystalline moment when just the second before there was life, and one second later maybe not, with any formulation of a plan or expectation or “want,” we will be confronted with a reality that will make all that meaningless—in a moment so very full of deep meaning. Because the moment of death, no matter how long it is expected to happen, will always surprise, inspire awe, bring deep sadness, initiate grief, surface the sacred, and take the breath from those present…for a few remarkable and profound moments. And then we’ll breathe again… even while Dad won’t.
Since Dad has moved into our house, we’ve been faced with that crucial decision point three times now. And each time has been dramatic, and unexpected, and fraught with uncertainty (“OMG what should we do? Are we making mistakes? Are we doing the right thing?”) So far, we have not called 911. And Dad has rebounded well. But…the fourth time???
Dad has a POLST; he has clearly articulated Advanced Directives. And he has a DNR order—“do not resuscitate.” All very smart and incredibly helpful pre-planning for everyone in our family. We know Dad’s wishes so there will be no ambiguity, confusion, or indecision—even in moments when, I know, we’ll wish none of it had to be. My question and wonder is will we have the courage to follow through, and simply bear witness with “don’t know mind,” at that liminal decision point?
“Only don’t know” is about faith and courage.
Blessings are meant to be evoked whenever the presence of Soul is needed. And when is it ever not needed? To bless someone, in the most literal sense of the word, is to confer your hopes to them. That's why so many traditional blessings begin with the word "may."
So, a blessing meant to be said with Dad as the recipient—‘cuz now is as good a time as any. Especially when we only don’t know.
Dad…
When the light around you lessens
And your thoughts darken until
Your body feels fear turn
Cold as a stone inside,
When you find yourself bereft
Of any belief in yourself
And all you unknowingly
Leaned on has fallen,
When one voice commands
Your whole heart,
And it is raven dark,
Steady yourself and see
That it is your own thinking
That darkens your world,
Search and you will find
A diamond-thought of light,
Know that you are not alone
And that this darkness has purpose,
Gradually it will school your eyes
To find the one gift your life requires
Hidden within this night-corner.
Invoke the learning
Of every suffering
You have suffered.
Close your eyes.
Gather all the kindling
About your heart
To create one spark.
That is all you need
To nourish the flame
That will cleanse the dark
Of its weight of festered fear.
A new confidence will come alive
To urge you toward higher ground
Where your imagination
Will learn to engage difficulty
As its most rewarding threshold!
“A Celtic Blessing For Courage”
~ John O’Donohue
Um…check that.
THAT’s not a Blessing for Dad really; it’s a Blessing for us. In that threshold, that liminal time of “not knowing,” we will need the courage to “only don’t know.”
T plus 222 days…and counting. And doing our best to “only just be.” Allowing only that clears out the clutter of the mind and let’s into the heart the abundance of love, warmth, and compassion.
❤️❤️❤️