Everwoven excerpt
From Chapter 12, arrow
Written by Megan Margherio
A few years ago, I attended a meditation class that was a 5-day silent retreat that was completely online. Only the teacher was allowed to speak.
She taught two lessons, or sermons, each day. Ancient wisdom has helped alleviate our suffering. The meeting was short. Quick tips for reflection.
One day, my teacher told me the parable of Buddha’s two arrows. That changed everything for me.
Buddha once said, “Man has two arrows.”
The first arrow is pain itself: the wound that comes from loss, betrayal, failure, and rejection. This arrow is universal. No one can escape it.
Second arrow?
That’s when we fire ourselves.
It is a story that we associate with the pain of the first arrow: remorse, shame, relentless questioning. What would have happened if I had done something different?
The second arrow is overthinking, self-doubt, and the belief that something bad has happened and must be expected.
Buddha said that the first arrow is inevitable.
The second arrow is optional.
I think about this parable every day.
I’d like to say that I learned how to stop firing the second arrow completely.
I still pick it up. I’m still shooting.
Some days, I don’t even realize I’m doing it until I bleed.
I also learned something else.
You can put the arrow down.
And when I pick it up again, I can put it down again because I do that.
Over and over again.
Next to yoga, this parable saved me.
When I feel anxious or cruel to myself, I ask: Is this the second arrow?
In most cases, the answer is yes.
So I put it down. I change my way of thinking.
It’s not always easy. And it doesn’t mean you won’t get a second arrow in 5 minutes. But I stop myself long enough to put it down.
And put it down again and again.
By identifying the second arrow, I am learning to ease my own suffering.
distrust
Distrust is the second arrow that never misses.
I don’t believe in Jason’s unconditional love—Love requires a price.
I don’t trust my friends to understand me—They will eventually drop it.
I don’t have confidence in myself to make the right choice—What if I ruin everything?
Distrust is a barrier. weight. A waiting game.
I feel like there will be immediate resistance. I feel like I left something out.
It’s like an invisible wall around me. It’s a wall I always have, but I only notice it when I’m doubting someone. About myself.
When you’re expecting everything to fall apart. When you’re planning what’s going to happen.
I feel it in my gut. Anxiety that something is wrong. I become hyper-conscious. Notice every subtle change in body language. All kinds of tonal changes. Every thought in my mind. A code that must be solved in order to know the truth.
When you no longer believe in yourself, your body freezes. I don’t know what to do next, so I just sit there waiting for an answer.
A sense of distrust is common.
It’s a script inside me and it runs as programmed.
If you try, the sound will only get louder.
Jason gives me unconditional love, love I didn’t need to earn, but I’m still on the hunt. And when nothing happens, when there is no price to be paid, I can’t wrap my head around it. It makes no sense. I can’t trust it. I try to deny it.
Jason’s magic is that he knows it. He believes I won’t stay in that horrible place for long. He trusts in my ability to accept things even when I don’t understand them. He believes I will continue to show up and keep trying.
And he’s right.
I have never known permanent security. Therefore, even if provided for free—especially If it’s offered for free, I doubt it.
In my past, trust has always been a trick. Set up for disappointment. Because of betrayal.
But unlike him.
When alarm bells start ringing in my mind and disbelief starts screaming, I almost always end up in a spiral. We get stuck in a loop of doubting what people say.
This is especially true when it comes to compliments.
I always think, They’re just saying it to be kind. or If they knew me better they wouldn’t say that.
I tell myself I am preventing pain by completely distrusting the words of others.
I can’t always rely on Jason’s unconditional love. Because all I can think about is how much it will hurt if it’s gone.
I tell myself I am protecting myself. So that even if I die, I will be less injured. It will hurt less if he leaves me. 
That’s not true.
We know that distrust is the second arrow.
It’s not just how much Jason loves me that determines how much I hurt. That’s also how much I love him.
I feel like putting that love on hold would be unfair to all the good things he brings into my life. It’s not that I don’t love him to protect myself. But I deny him the right to love me more.
I set limits on how deeply I receive love. Because if I fully accept it, the loss, real or imagined, feels like it will destroy me.
Disbelief won’t let me sit in joy. From sitting in goodness.
I feel like good things are very fragile. It’s like if you breathe wrong, you’ll be blown away.
When moments of fun, excitement, happiness, and bliss come, I push them away. every time.
We’re afraid of feeling good because we know it won’t last forever. That darkness will inevitably return.
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Megan Margherio is an author, speaker, and trauma-informed manifestation coach whose work explores the long journey to trauma recovery, alienation, joy, and self-trust. she is the author of Everwoven: A Memoir. Calculation.
Source: Spiritual Media Blog – www.spiritualmediablog.com
