My mind affects my body and my body affects my mind. That’s a tautology or something, right? Maybe not. The point is that’s what happens when an insurgent memory lays dormant for a long time, creeps up behind me in the dark, and whispers, Psst, I’m still here; don’t forget about me you fucker: I feel it all over.
I feel my heart sink . And when my heart sinks, my stomach drops. Then I feel anxious. Sometimes, my legs will wobble and shake. Then I’ll have to lay down. Laying down makes me feel lonely. And being lonely makes me sad. This has happened enough where I’ve learned that I can trick myself into not being sad by checking out a happy memory from the Brain Library, so I can be grateful instead of pathetic. Sometimes I have overdue memories so I can’t check out a new one, but when I can check one out, it’s a helluva happy trick. I’ll feel better for a few minutes most days, an hour on a good day, an entire day or two if I get lucky.
I think this is the whole point of secular Buddhism, right? When a sad thought enters your brain, you acknowledge it, accept it, allow yourself to feel these feelings, and then send it on its way back into the Brain Void from which it came. Apparently, you’re to do the same thing with happy thoughts. The goal is to reduce your suffering, and honey, we all suffer. Sometimes it’s over an unexpected death. Sometimes it’s because your partner didn’t buy the Kirkland Signature Brand of peanut butter.