When bad things happen -- what do you do?

Living is suffering. That's pretty much the whole foundation of Buddhism. The way you get through that suffering is outlined in the rest of the tenets of that path, which are not much different ultimately than those in Christianity -- right speech, right mindfulness, right understanding, right livelihood, right effort, right action, right thought, right concentration. Following those precepts will bring you to the end of suffering, i.e, the lack of craving, of attachment.

Okay, so I get that, imperfectly. I even work on it.

But there are days when suffering just seems to be all around me. Certainly there is physical suffering from pain, or illness, or injury. I watched the effects of pain on my mother and it is not just a physical reality, but also one that compromises the mental abilities, even mitigated by meds. It is a suffering I fear because I've seen what it does. The physical pain I've felt in my lifetime has largely been endurable and I've always recovered fairly intact. Some physical suffering just does not go away.

There is mental suffering, being unfulfilled, frustrated, the going-nowhere-fast kind. We all suffer that, usually daily, and it can grow into a tremendously painful burden to carry. It also can lead to physical suffering, in that what you think can indeed affect health. Anyone who has ever been in a terrible job situation knows this one. The Katrina victims, the 9/11 survivors know it *again* as the media observes the respective anniversaries with endless stories of loss and despair.

And then there is emotional suffering. If you get your feelings hurt easily, you know emotional suffering. When you get angry or endure humiliation as a result of another's actions, that is emotional suffering. If you've endured the breakup of a strong relationship, you've suffered emotionally. It can be a result of physical suffering, or mental suffering, and all three can be intertwined to make endless days and nights of suffering.

When you are a parent and your child is injured/teased/bullied/ostracized, you suffer too, for them and with them, possibly remembering your own experiences. When your grown child faces job loss or financial difficulties, or is in a difficult relationship, you still suffer -- unlike their childhood when you could ride your white horse into the fray armed with a bandaid or a cookie or hug to heal the wounds, there's not much you can do but love them.

Watching a child or friend or colleague or spouse suffer because of their decisions and actions and the re-actions of someone who has some kind of power over them -- a boss, a significant other, a sibling -- is beyond difficult when you love them. I want my children to be happy, to find fulfillment in their lives, to have love and "enough" of everything. As they struggle to achieve that, they suffer, and so do I.

Watching my mother struggle with her physical limitations and mental distress was very hard on me -- I wanted so much to make it easier for her, to ease her suffering. And I know that I did all I could do. Despite the gratitude that I have for her peaceful death and end to suffering, I miss her presence in my life, her wit, her advice, her willingness to listen. I suffer from grief.

So what do you do to ease the suffering of another?

You know you can't fix it or make it go away -- it may not be yours to handle (and besides, isn't the very act of getting involved to that extent sometimes a denial of your OWN inability to handle some situation in your life?) But we give advice (that we probably wouldn't take), we bring hot soup or hot fudge sundaes, we call or write or e-mail with support. We cry with them (and for them). We pray.

And that's all we can do. "I am powerless over people, places and things."

I do not have to allow another's suffering to take over my life. I have a choice in how I react to adversity and difficulty. I can decide a course only for myself, not for anyone else (which, of course, doesn't stop me from making suggestions!)

There is a line in Neil Simon's play "Jake's Women," that I've never forgotten -- I once played Jake's psychiatrist, Edith. She listened to him agonize for years over his failing relationship with his wife (and sister and daughter and former girlfriends) because of his attachment to his long-dead wife. Dr. Edith finally proclaimed to him, in Brooklyn-accented tones, "We make our own destiny, Jake."

And we do. With each decision we make, we choose a path. How we react to our suffering caused by relationships or bosses or pain or death or hurt feelings or anything else is a CHOICE WE MAKE. If we don't like how we feel/live/work, only we have the power to make it different. My life -- your life -- is not anyone else's responsibility. *I* make my own destiny.