The Playground.

Consider the second arrow.

The Playground

It’s been three decades since that bright spring day at a local playground. Pushing my three-year-old daughter on the swings, I noticed a father and his young son nearby. The little boy had begun to climb a large play structure designed for older children, when he slipped and fell to the ground. Thankfully it wasn’t far, but the child lay on the ground wailing inconsolably. His father ran over, but instead of scooping him up in his arms, began to berate the child, “I can’t believe you did that. You should know better.” As the boy’s screams continued, the man roughly lifted him off the ground, continuing, “And stop your crying. Big boys don’t cry.”

I felt horrified and helpless. I picked up my daughter and walked quickly over. I checked in with the father to see if his son had been hurt. The man calmed down. The boy’s cries became sobs, then quieted. The child appeared unharmed by the fall, at least physically. I remember thinking, “Hey kid, I’m a psychiatrist, here’s my card; call me in 20 years.”

I imagined that the father was scared, but rather than face that fear, he tried to control the uncontrollable by blaming the child. Some folks find it easier to be mad than to be sad. Perhaps he had been raised the same way.

The Present Moment

What did you think and feel as you read that story? Was the situation familiar in any way? Did you feel sad or angry? Should I have responded differently?

We could easily detour into a discussion of our culture and its take on masculinity. I’d like, instead, to use that day on the playground to explore the concept of “the second arrow.”

One of the most difficult aspects of the present moment is our propensity to feel helpless and small, a sense that no matter what we do, we are not enough. We are simultaneously witnessing and impacted by the destruction of norms, systems and safety. Those creating the wreckage want us to feel helpless and powerless. That, combined with the resultant rage and grief, can be devastating and immobilizing. After traumatic events, we commonly think, “I could have done more,” or “I should have done something different.”

As we read the news and take in the devastation, we are continuously exposed to trauma. Traumatic events are experiences which threaten and overwhelm the integrity of the self, either physically or emotionally, literally or figuratively. There is no possible way to respond to or process everything. There are simply too many ways the world is being torn apart.

Are you blaming yourself for not doing enough? Do you turn your anger at those perpetrating the demolition of our democracy on yourself for not being able to stop it, that no matter what actions you take, you aren’t sufficient? Have you internalized messages like those given by that father to his son? How do you “talk” to yourself when you are suffering?

The Second Arrow

Perhaps the Buddhist concept of “the second arrow” might be of use.

Experiencing a loss, or being in a painful or difficult situation is a first arrow, striking us seemingly at random, creating a wound beyond our control.

The second arrow is the one we subsequently shoot at ourselves. It is the blame and/or judgement we foist on ourselves for not being able to avoid the first arrow. Far too often we speak to ourselves as that father did to his son, expressing punitive judgement for being unable to control the world and keep bad things from happening. We carry around a full quiver of second arrows that we use with abandon, piercing our own hearts at their most vulnerable and tender places.

Another way we can direct a second arrow to our wounds is by reacting rather than responding. As I’ve written previously, “reacting to a stressor or event causes our bodies to go into emergency mode. Reaction originates from the mid-brain, where our lizard brains reside, the oldest part of our brain that knows how to respond to danger. The midbrain triggers the adrenaline and cortisol release, the sympathetic nervous system's fight/flight/freeze/fawn response. Triggering that repeatedly wears us down and wears us out.” If we constantly carry the anxiety and terror that we will be struck again, we perpetuate the harm.

Perhaps we can work to accept fear and pain, allow space for difficult feelings and embrace them with self-compassion. How do you wish that father had responded to his son? Can you use that to consider how you might talk to yourself? How would you talk to a friend in pain? In tending to our wounds with care, we can avoid the second arrow.

A Reminder about RAIN

Tara Brach uses the acronym RAIN as “an easy-to-remember tool for bringing mindfulness and compassion to emotional difficulty.” I share it frequently with folks, with some minor adaptations. It is a means of pausing, realizing you are feeling distress and finding a course of action to address the pain. The first arrow has struck. Take the time to pause, rather than react, with the practice of RAIN.

R: Recognize what you are feeling. Sometimes this is the most difficult part, to realize that we are overwhelmed or anxious. Our bodies these days can be tense so much of the time that we become numb to the stress. Taking an internal feeling check on a regular basis is useful.

A: Tara Brach uses the A for “Allow.” Allowing the feelings to be there, recognizing them for what they are. I would also add “Accept,” experiencing these emotions without judging oneself.

I: Investigate. What are these feelings about? How are they impacting your body? What do I need to do to take care of myself?

N: Nurture with self-compassion. Can you find a way to care for yourself in this moment? How will you choose to respond to your investigation? Can you follow through to meet your needs?

Another way to dodge the second arrow

As we navigate these perilous times, can you be clear about what you can do, and what you would never be able to do? A simple phrase like, “that’s above my pay grade,” or “well, if I were Empress of the world I would…” can serve as a reminder that we each have our lane. Some of us can protest, call Members of Congress, write letters to the editor. Others are attorneys, federal workers, organizers, elected officials, all are utilizing their expertise. We are all doing what we can. Everyone can do something.

Action

An action for today: read this excerpt from Adrienne Rich’s Dream of a Common Language (1978)

“My heart is moved by all I cannot save:
so much has been destroyed

I have to cast my lot with those
who age after age, perversely,

with no extraordinary power,
reconstitute the world.”

and...the second arrow, redux:

“[I]f an arrow hits you, you will feel pain in that part of your body where the arrow hit; and then if a second arrow comes and strikes exactly at the same spot, the pain will not be only double, it will become at least ten times more intense. The unwelcome things that sometimes happen in life—being rejected, losing a valuable object, failing a test, getting injured in an accident—are analogous to the first arrow. They cause some pain. The second arrow, fired by our own selves, is our reaction, our storyline, and our anxiety. All these things magnify the suffering”

― Thich Nhat Hanh, No Mud, No Lotus: The Art of Transforming Suffering

Finally…

I found this post via Rebecca Solnit, a reminder that there are many ways to fight.

and then, for inspiration, she rewrote Churchill for our time:

"Even though large tracts of America and many old and famous red States have fallen or may fall into the grip of DOGE-MAGA and all the odious apparatus of Nazi rule, we shall not flag or fail. We shall go on to the end. We shall fight in the Bronx and along the border, we shall fight in the national parks and forests, we shall fight with growing confidence and growing strength in the streets, we shall defend our nation, whatever the cost may be. We shall fight on the public beaches, we shall fight to protect the public lands, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender. And even if, which I do not for a moment believe, this nation or a large part of it were subjugated and starving, then our teenagers and youth would carry on the struggle, until, in God's good time, the New World that is our beautiful multicultural future, with all its renewable power and grassroots might, steps forth to the rescue and the liberation of the Old. "