Let us accept the natural order in which we move. Let us reconcile ourselves to the mysterious rhythm of our destinies, such as they must be in this world of space and time. Let us treasure our joys but not bewail our sorrows. Winston Churchill
It’s been a difficult few weeks.
Talk of cancer—multiple diagnoses—has been circling around me. Some close, others more distant. Family members, friends, stories in the news. It’s never easy for any family, especially for caregivers. I know. The pain, the uncertainty, and the sheer logistics of treatment and care can be overwhelming.
But what’s surprised me most has been my own emotional response to it all. My reactions have ranged from outright sadness to sympathy to ambivalence.
Before you assume (and yes, the thought crossed my mind, too) that I must be some kind of psycho to react neutrally or feel ambivalent in the face of a life-threatening illness, I figured it’s not all that uncommon. Eastern philosophy has long recognized such neutral responses are in fact, normal, when life follows the natural order of things.
In his amazing book, “The Art of Simple Living: 100 Daily Practices from a Zen Buddhist Monk for a Lifetime of Calm and Joy” Shunmyo Masuno shares the following anecdote:
The Zen monk Ikkyu, famous for his wit, was once asked by a merchant—who was celebrating the birth of his grandchild—to write something congratulatory.
Ikkyu thought for a moment and wrote: “The parent dies, the child dies, the grandchild dies.”
The merchant, understandably upset, asked, “Why would you write something so morbid?”
Ikkyu replied: “First the parent dies, then the child dies, and at last the grandchild grows old and dies. That is the natural order. If your family is able to experience death in the natural order, you will have the greatest happiness.”
That story struck me. Deeply.
When Life Deviates from the Script
We suffer most when life doesn’t follow the natural order.
Loss is always hard, but the grief is sharper when a young parent dies, leaving behind children and confused, aging grandparents.
Disappointed feelings are heavier when we’ve worked hard for something and it still slips away. On the other hand, it’s easier to cope with failures when we know we half-assed our effort.
The Natural Order of Things
So, when life follows the natural order—when the roses bloom in spring and wither away at the first sign of summer, or your 401K grows steadily over the decades as you head towards retirement, or elders pass away after a full life—there is a strange kind of relief in knowing that life is flowing as it should.
But when things don’t go according to the natural order—the flowers don’t bloom in spring, your 401K takes a whacking, or a loved one learns of an untimely diagnosis, we are left unmoored.
What does this all mean to us? What can we learn?
Lesson 1: Celebrate the Mundane
The easy lesson (or at least, the simpler one) is this: appreciate the ordinary.
Write that gratitude journal. Celebrate the quiet moments. Call people and tell them you’re proud of their work. Share your joy. Keep perspective.
As Mary Oliver said,
Instructions for living a life: Pay attention. Be astonished. Tell about it.
Celebrate occasions that demonstrate when life is in congruence with the natural order—graduations, milestone birthdays, anniversaries.
Your kid leaving home? It means they’re ready.
You start getting AARP mailers? It means you’ve made it this far.
When an aging parent gets sick or passes on, let’s try—however difficult—to find comfort in the fact that their life unfolded according to the natural rhythm of the universe.
Lesson 2: Respond with Grace When Life Doesn’t Follow the Natural Order
Now, the hard lesson: learning to respond with equanimity when life doesn’t follow its natural order.
This one takes time. Maybe a lifetime. But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try. To quote Anne Lamott,
Hope begins in the dark, the stubborn hope that if you just show up and try to do the right thing, the dawn will come.
Here’s what we can hope for: If life must break your heart (and it will), may it at least do so in the natural order. And when it doesn’t—may we find the strength to stand in the storm, to feel it fully, and to walk through it changed but not defeated.