“Aussie, If you read the word stressed backwards, what do you get?”

“Don’t know, I’m illiterate.”

“You get desserts.”

“Desserts! Quick, get stressed, and then we can all eat ice cream.”

“I just read the blog of my friend, Ken Byalin, who explores what the Buddha meant when he said that life is suffering. Specifically, what is suffering? What is trauma?”

“Do I have to listen to a dharma talk in order to get dessert? Because that’s the perfect way to get me stressed.”

“Listen to this, Aussie. Ken writes that many people think of trauma as something terrible that happened to you once. But AI defines trauma as your emotional response to those terrible things, see?”

“In other words, there’s this conversation, and then there’s my reaction to it, right?”

“Right. It takes two to create trauma. The Buddha said that life is suffering, but life is just life. Then there are our reactions to it, so the two together—life and our reactions—can bring on trauma, but not necessarily. For example, my response to thunderstorms is to run to an interior bathroom which has no windows. Other people love thunderstorms.”

“I rush to the back seat of the car in the garage and hope to Great Canine that you left a door or even a window open.”

“Thunderstorms are just thunderstorms; the trauma lies in how you and I react to them. Take this conversation about suffering, trauma, and stress. How do you feel?”

“Stressed. Could I have a red velvet cupcake?”

“Aussie, what Ken is saying is good news. We can’t stand in the way of life; I can’t prevent thunderstorms from happening. But we can try to work with our reactions to them, see? The more we practice with our breath and the focus of our attention, we start affecting how we experience trauma. When I stop reacting badly, Aussie, there’s no more stress or trauma. Isn’t that a wonderful possibility?”

“Not if it means no more chocolate ice cream.”

“For instance, a dear friend went through terrible experiences in Vietnam that haunted him for many years. But he shared a lot, both privately and publicly, about what he went through and wrote beautiful poetry about it. His reactions, which were once imbued with trauma, began to change, affecting his entire life. As long as I think that trauma lies out there, life events that nothing can change, there’s nothing I can do and I get depressed. Seeing how much depends on my reactions, on me, gives me a way to heal.”

[Snore snore]

“Shunryo Webber, who teaches at Green River Zen Center, told me that listening is a sacrament. Listening quietly and respectfully, with no comments and certainly no answers or solutions, can transform a human being and a relationship.”

“So can dessert.”

“When someone’s listening to you, you’re no longer alone. You’ve shared something painful with others, and unconditional acceptance is still there. When I share things with others—even with you, Aussie—I may be unselfing just a little. Another being comes into the picture, my sorrow is no longer just my own. Now that I think about it, that’s what happens when I’m sad and we walk in the woods.”

“Speaking of which—”

“I walk among the hemlocks and beeches, the soft shiver of last year’s leaves, the snowmelt coursing down to the creek, and my burden feels lighter. I’m unselfing, see? I see things from other points of view. Say the truth, Aussie, don’t you feel that way when you see our first purple crocuses?”

“I like peeing on them.”

“Aussie, however our life has gone, it’s important not to feel alone with it. When I share from the heart, I unself little by little, which eliminates much stress.”

“Does that mean there’ll be no more ice cream in the freezer? I WANT MORE STRESS!”