Expectations = unhappiness
We were both delighted when we found out. Sandhya, maybe a little jittery at the thought of going through it with an increasingly "engergetic" Dhruv to manage. Like the typical male stereotype, I felt that "we'd cope" when it happened.
The coincidence was striking -- we found out on 17th November this year, two days before my 34th Birthday; we'd found out about Dhruv on 19th November two years ago. The new arrival had an ETA right around Dhruv's due date; with some luck the planned c-section might even have been on the 4th of July, Dhruv's birthday and US Independence day.
Of course, we (sorry, I) began dreaming, and talking about it between each other and with close friends, telling Dhruv about his becoming a "big brother" to a "little sister". "Maybe this one will be a girl", I thought. "She'll be a girl that breaks all molds, brought up with few of the stereotypical shackles that girls are unfortunately burdened with, achieving greatness just because of that upbringing". I began thinking about our plans to relocate, back to India, after the second addition to our brood.
So when our first doctor's visit yesterday revealed that she would have to miscarry because of an "unviable pregnancy", you'd have thought that I'd be shattered and devastated. Funnily, that didn't happen and I feel quite at peace with myself.
It's probably because of the increasing realization that unhappiness is often a result of expectations -- we expect disaster and are worried and unhappy; or we expect good things and when they do not come to pass, we are unhappy. The mind constantly hankers after past happiness, broods over past sadness, anticipates future happiness, or is anxious about future sadness. Living in the moment is required, but difficult. And little do we realize that so much beauty is passing us by while we're hankering, brooding, fearing or anticipating.
So all the while that I thought of the baby that was potentially on its way, I also thought of how she (or he) could not come, or have serious problems, and therefore enjoyed each thought the more. I increasingly think of Dhruv in the same way; he's with us now, but anything could happen that could take him away. I enjoy each diaper change and tickle fight the more if I think of it that way. Anything could happen to Sandhya, and I enjoy her taking in the simple pleasures of life the more. Anything could happen to me - the low platelet count in my blood test could be an indicator of leukaemia; I enjoy every living moment the more.
A simple idea, and the essence of which is at the heart of every spiritual teacher's core beliefs through history, but unfortunately one that has been obfuscated by generations of self-serving clergy, in each and every case.
However this is more intellectual today rather than intuitive. Hopefully the week of Vipasana in January will raise this consciousness from the intellectual to the intuitive, so that I live in the moment all the time without having to think about it.
The coincidence was striking -- we found out on 17th November this year, two days before my 34th Birthday; we'd found out about Dhruv on 19th November two years ago. The new arrival had an ETA right around Dhruv's due date; with some luck the planned c-section might even have been on the 4th of July, Dhruv's birthday and US Independence day.
Of course, we (sorry, I) began dreaming, and talking about it between each other and with close friends, telling Dhruv about his becoming a "big brother" to a "little sister". "Maybe this one will be a girl", I thought. "She'll be a girl that breaks all molds, brought up with few of the stereotypical shackles that girls are unfortunately burdened with, achieving greatness just because of that upbringing". I began thinking about our plans to relocate, back to India, after the second addition to our brood.
So when our first doctor's visit yesterday revealed that she would have to miscarry because of an "unviable pregnancy", you'd have thought that I'd be shattered and devastated. Funnily, that didn't happen and I feel quite at peace with myself.
It's probably because of the increasing realization that unhappiness is often a result of expectations -- we expect disaster and are worried and unhappy; or we expect good things and when they do not come to pass, we are unhappy. The mind constantly hankers after past happiness, broods over past sadness, anticipates future happiness, or is anxious about future sadness. Living in the moment is required, but difficult. And little do we realize that so much beauty is passing us by while we're hankering, brooding, fearing or anticipating.
So all the while that I thought of the baby that was potentially on its way, I also thought of how she (or he) could not come, or have serious problems, and therefore enjoyed each thought the more. I increasingly think of Dhruv in the same way; he's with us now, but anything could happen that could take him away. I enjoy each diaper change and tickle fight the more if I think of it that way. Anything could happen to Sandhya, and I enjoy her taking in the simple pleasures of life the more. Anything could happen to me - the low platelet count in my blood test could be an indicator of leukaemia; I enjoy every living moment the more.
A simple idea, and the essence of which is at the heart of every spiritual teacher's core beliefs through history, but unfortunately one that has been obfuscated by generations of self-serving clergy, in each and every case.
However this is more intellectual today rather than intuitive. Hopefully the week of Vipasana in January will raise this consciousness from the intellectual to the intuitive, so that I live in the moment all the time without having to think about it.
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