Just in case you missed the announcement on Facebook last week, I thought I’d post the interview I did with Julia Hanlon for the Running On Om podcast.
If you or someone you know is struggling with depression, anxiety, or grief, I hope this podcast can provide a little bit of hope. We also talk a lot about the origins of Bunny Buddhism, so if you’re interested in learning more about how Bunny Buddhism came to be, this might answer your questions.
Please let me know what you think!
ROO Podcast #130: Krista Lester on How Bunnies and Buddhism Saved Her…
With special thanks to Del C. for the perfect photo to match how I’m feeling lately, here is a moment of bunniness featuring Apples the English Angora bun.
Please note: If you do not wish to read anything that may trigger negative emotions, please stop reading now.
From time to time, despite our beliefs and all the structures we have put in place to help us find our strength, life presents us with a challenge that tests us to our limits and even beyond them.
While the photo of Apples speaks to me, the truth is that the message is quite a bit more difficult. As you may have guessed from my previous post, I have been dealing with some big personal stuff. For a few weeks, I have been hiding in my metaphorical basket, trying to find the courage to emerge and face the world.
Sometimes the reserves of bunniness are low, and one must take care to recharge before trying to give more.
A few weeks ago, my husband and I took a lovely week-long vacation to Maine. Two days after our return, my husband texted me to say he was coming home from work. When he still wasn’t home two hours later, I started to panic. My sister and I called every authority we could imagine. Four hours after his text, the police called to tell me my husband was in an ambulance on his way to a nearby hospital.
He had intentionally taken a massive overdose of his prescription medications for depression and anxiety. He was unconscious when they found him, and despite the best efforts of doctors at a world-class hospital, he never regained consciousness. He lost all brain function and his organs began to fail one by one. I sat with him in the ICU for four days, and I was holding his hand when his heart stopped.
He was 33 years old. We were together for 14 of those years. Now, I am left to pick up the pieces of the life we built together. Somehow, I am supposed to move on.
I try to remind myself of all the teachings on attachment and letting go, but I am at a loss for what I am going to do without him. When I meditate, my breathing gets lost behind all the tears. Attempts at mindfulness turn immediately to memories of the best and the worst moments of our lives together.
I miss him so much. I loved him more than he knew. I want nothing more than to hold him just one more time. But I can’t. I am having more than a little trouble finding the bunniness within the pain right now. But I know that is what I have to do, and I will continue to try.
The more we try to hop away from pain, the more it clings to us. One must learn to find the bunniness within the pain.