anxiety

Zen and the Art of Dissatisfaction – Part 35

/ Mikko Ijäs / Jätä kommentti

Losing Myself and My Suitcase

This post explores how the stories our minds create – stories of guilt, inadequacy, or fear – can become far heavier burdens than the events that inspire them. A lost suitcase, a moment of confusion in a foreign railway station, or a lapse in attentiveness can transform into a mental storm. Yet within these storms lies an invitation: to examine who we believe ourselves to be and to recognise our deep entanglement with everything around us. Drawing from personal experience and classical Zen teachings-from Emperor Wu of Liang to Bodhidharma and Shitou Xiqian – this post reflects on illusion of the sense of self, perception, and the inseparable connection between all beings.

At times, the stories and self-accusations created by our own minds are our worst enemies. Anyone who has ever accidentally broken or lost something, or missed an important meeting or means of transport, knows how upsetting such moments can be. Even if nothing significant was ultimately harmed or endangered, the mind may still twist the situation into something impossibly difficult.

Lost Suitcase

I lost my suitcase in August 2018 while travelling to a week-long silent Zen retreat in the Netherlands. My train stopped at Rotterdam station. I was heading toward a small Dutch town whose name I could not even pronounce. My phone’s internet connection wasn’t working, and I did not know where I was supposed to change trains. I saw a uniformed conductor on the platform and went outside to ask him for help. He told me that I was already running late. My train would leave in minutes, and I would have to switch platforms.

I ran to the new platform, arrived just in time to see the train that had brought me there gliding away. Another train arrived. I stepped in, found myself a seat, and realised that I had not taken my suitcase with me from the previous train. I had only a small shoulder bag and the clothes I was wearing.

My stomach dropped into a deep abyss beneath my feet. It felt as if all the blood in my body fell down with it. I tried to prevent myself from falling into that abyss, but my mind seized control. I began making a plan to retrieve my suitcase. I found the conductor; he gave me the number for the lost-and-found service. I called, but it was no use. No one could tell me where the train I had lost my suitcase on would go after its terminal station. Despite my best efforts, I never saw my suitcase again.

The Longest First Day

When I arrived at the retreat centre, my teacher burst out laughing. It was not mean at all, actually it felt nice. I knew I was safe. ”This is exactly why we practise mindfulness,” he said. His wife promised to bring me a toothbrush and toothpaste. The first day of the retreat felt endless. I noticed how my mind replayed the event again and again from different angles. I sat there in silence, watching how my mind meticulously showed me just how careless, stupid, and thoughtless I had been.

At bedtime my mind was still boiling, replaying the events and insisting on my stupidity and carelessness. Eventually I fell asleep but soon woke up again, my mind still seething with self-accusations. As the days passed, I began to see how utterly unnecessary this whole mental process was. It was merely the torrent of self-blame and fixation on loss. Though at first I had imagined that my suitcase held my entire life, I eventually realised that this was not true. Life is something entirely different.

What Is This Life We Are Living?

But what is this life of ours? Is it even possible to say? I notice that I cannot state with certainty what I mean by my self.

The Emperor Wu of Liang (c. 502-549) is said to have met the semi-mythical ancestor of Zen, the great Bodhidharma (c. 440-528), who arrived in China from somewhere along the Silk Road, presumably from India. During their short encounter, Emperor Wu questioned Bodhidharma about who this man standing before him really was. Bodhidharma replied laconically: ”I don’t know.”

What are we, what am I, truly? It feels irrelevant at first, but when I look deeper, I find it impossible to point to any one specific thing and say that this is me. If I pointed to myself and examined more closely, I would notice that it is not true. If I pointed, for instance, to my shoulder and asked whether that is me – no, it is not. It is only my shoulder, but even that is not so simple. The shoulder is merely a entaglement of various interconnected parts. It is a collection of things: skin, tendons, bone, nerve fibres, blood, and other fluids. The closer I look, the less any of these seem like ”me”. Any one of them could perhaps be replaced without that essential sense of ”I” disappearing. It is like the Ship of Thesius in this regard. Or its Chinese counterpart, the Zen Koan regarding the Cart of Keichu.

Even if my mind insists it is the same ”me” as it was meybe ten years ago, this is not the case. Our minds change, and our memories change with them. The atoms and molecules forming our bodies are replaced as we eat and drink. Food becomes part of us. Old material leaves us when we breathe out, or go to the bathroom, or brush off dry skin.

The skin surrounding the body is not me. It is merely skin. My bones are not me, for they too are merely bones. Yet if I must prove my identity to a police officer or to my computer, I instantly become a unique individual, distinct from all others in some incomprehensible way.

Interbeing: The World Within and Around Us

I sit by the window of our home and listen to the birds singing at the bird feeder. A great spotted woodpecker has given way to squabbling tits. Sound waves carry the birds’ calls to my ears. What separates me from those birds, when even the sound waves travelling through the air connect us? As I listen, the window between us ceases to exist.

The wind rustling the branches of spruces and pines takes shape in the sound it produces as it moves through them. The same play of awareness occurring in my mind is present in everything. It is in the branches of trees, in birdsong, even in the empty space binding us together. I breathe the oxygen these trees have produced. We are all interwoven together. None of us could exist without the other.

And yet, even though we are intertwined with birds, trees, and air, I can also view the same reality from another perspective, where each part becomes sharply distinct. The tit and the woodpecker take on their individual forms, and each of us has our own unique task in this moment. We are separated by our unique ways of being-yet still bound to one another.

The Chinese 8th-century Zen master Shitou Xiqian (700-790), known in Japanese as Sekito Kisen, ends his famous poem Sandokai (The Identity of Relitive and Absolute) with the words: ”Do not waste your time by night or day.” Both darkness and light are two aspects of reality intertwined and, in themselves, the same thing – two dimensions of experience. Everyday dissatisfaction and the bliss of freedom are both right here, right now.

Summary

What begins as a story about a lost suitcase unfolds into a reflection on the self, awareness, and our profound connection with all beings and things. The mind can turn trivial events into overwhelming crises, yet it also possesses the capacity to recognise their emptiness. Through personal experience, ancient Zen teachings, and the simple presence of birds and trees, we are reminded that life is both deeply individual and inseparably shared. In every moment-whether painful or peaceful-there is an invitation to see clearly and live fully.

Zen and the Art of Dissatisfaction – Part 32

/ Mikko Ijäs / Jätä kommentti

The Impact of Unemployment

In my previous posts I have been writing about Universal Basic Income (UBI). This would solve many issues related to unemployment as it would pretty much make it disappear. Unemployment is a vast problem and it has many has far-reaching effects, not only on an individual’s financial stability but also on their mental health and social identity. In many Western societies, much of an individual’s identity is shaped by their profession. This social construct is so ingrained that in casual interactions, one of the first questions asked is often, ”What do you do for a living?” However, for the unemployed, such questions can evoke a sense of discomfort and even shame. The notion of self-worth becomes deeply entangled with one’s employment status, and unemployment can trigger a series of social and psychological challenges. This post explores how unemployment leads to poverty, mental health issues, and intergenerational trauma, and underscores the need for systemic change to address these social and economic disparities.

In Western societies, people are often defined by their occupation. This identity construction is reinforced in everyday social settings, where one of the most common icebreakers is the question of what someone does for a living. For those without employment, these encounters can be awkward or even painful. Ironically, while people are eager to discuss their professions and often define others by their job titles in social settings, few would want their occupation to be engraved on their tombstone. For example, one does not often see epitaphs reading, ”Here lies Teuvo Virtanen, a knowledgeable and self-directed YEL product manager.” It seems people wish to define themselves through their family, pets, hobbies, and interests, rather than by their job. Despite this, unemployment, and the poverty it brings, are still viewed as deeply shameful in modern society. This societal stigma worsens the experience of being unemployed, reinforcing feelings of worthlessness.

The Psychological and Social Effects of Unemployment

The financial uncertainty caused by unemployment extends beyond the individual; it can also impact relationships, family dynamics, and children’s futures. Unemployed individuals often experience higher rates of mental health disorders, such as depression, anxiety, and substance abuse. It is often impossible to tell whether these mental health issues preceded the unemployment or resulted from it, creating a vicious cycle. The need for mental health treatment is exacerbated by the financial barriers that prevent unemployed individuals from accessing healthcare, further deepening the crisis. Additionally, bureaucratic requirements, such as being forced to sell one’s car to qualify for unemployment benefits, make it even harder for individuals to regain stability.

The strain caused by unemployment extends to more than just financial difficulties. The stress of living in poverty can lead to mental health problems such as depression, and can also increase the likelihood of substance abuse and violent behaviour. While these are real issues that impact society at large, the solution is not to force unemployed people into any job available. Doing so would only exacerbate the problem. Unemployed individuals are found across all social classes and professions, and it would be unfair to compel a highly educated researcher who has lost their job to accept work as a cleaner, especially when they are not eligible for unemployment benefits.

The Impact on Children: Intergenerational Trauma

Children are the most vulnerable in situations where unemployment and poverty are prevalent. Issues within the family can often have lasting effects on children, leading to trauma that manifests in the form of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). Dutch-born American psychiatrist Bessel van der Kolk has been one of the leading researchers to bring attention to the issue of trauma-based stress disorders in the West. Van der Kolk (2014) references the ACE (Adverse Childhood Experiences) study, led by researchers Robert Anda and Vincent Felitti, which aimed to examine the prevalence and effects of harmful childhood experiences.

The ACE study revealed that traumatic childhood experiences were more common than previously thought. Two-thirds of participants in the ACE study had experienced trauma during childhood, with significant negative impacts on their lives. Around 10% of participants reported frequently being verbally abused by their parents or other household members, while more than 25% had suffered physical violence in their family. Over 28% of female participants and 16% of male participants had been sexually abused. Furthermore, 12.5% had witnessed their mothers being physically assaulted.

The ACE study included a scoring system for traumatic childhood experiences, with participants receiving points based on their responses to various questions about abuse. The study found that 87% of participants scored at least 2 points on the ACE scale, and one in six participants scored 4 or more points. Those who scored 4 or more points reported significant challenges in learning and behaviour, and these traumatic experiences followed them into adulthood. High ACE scores were directly associated with issues in work, family life, and life expectancy.

Van der Kolk notes that women with high ACE scores (4 points or more) were 66% more likely to suffer from chronic depression, and men with similar scores had a 35% chance. As ACE scores increased, so did the likelihood of depression, substance use disorders, and suicidal behaviour. Suicidal attempts increased by 5000% when ACE scores rose from 0 to 6.

Perhaps one of the most shocking findings from the ACE study was the correlation between ACE scores and sexual violence. Only 5% of women with a score of 0 had been victims of rape, while 33% of women with a score of 4 had been raped. Van der Kolk explains that children who witness domestic violence are at significantly greater risk of entering violent relationships themselves later in life.

Addressing the Root Causes: Economic Inequality and Public Health

Economic inequality and poverty are not only detrimental to individual well-being but are also deeply ingrained in society’s broader health challenges. According to Bessel van der Kolk, eliminating child abuse and improving economic conditions could lead to significant public health benefits, including reductions in depression, alcoholism, suicide rates, drug abuse, and family violence. The financial cost of child abuse has been estimated to be higher than that of cancer or heart disease, yet its societal impact remains largely ignored.

In his work When the Body Says No (2011), Hungarian-Canadian doctor Gabor Maté discusses how access to regular and adequate income is one of the most significant health-promoting factors. Wealthier individuals have the means to provide their children with good daycare, access to quality education, and healthier lifestyles. On the other hand, the poor often have few choices and may resort to leaving their children in the care of abusive family members. These socio-economic disparities have a profound impact on mental and physical health. I will continue this topic on my next post.

Conclusion

Addressing poverty and unemployment is not only crucial for the immediate well-being of individuals but is also a smart long-term investment in public health. Reducing poverty would lead to improved mental health outcomes, enhanced safety, and lower crime rates. In particular, reducing childhood trauma and its lifelong effects would be a significant step toward a healthier, more equitable society. The solution does not lie in forcing people into any job, but in addressing the root causes of economic inequality and providing support for those affected by unemployment.

References
Bregman, R. (2017). Utopia for Realists: How We Can Build the Ideal World. The Correspondent.
Kolk, B. van der. (2014). The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma. Viking.
Maté, G. (2011). When the Body Says No: Exploring the Stress-Disease Connection. Wiley.
Anda, R., Felitti, V. J., et al. (1998). The Adverse Childhood Experiences (ACE) Study: Implications for Child Health. Pediatrics, 101(3), 573-578.