Ten thousand years, only go straight ahead.

-Seung San Sunim

Here’s the thing about heroic perseverance: it requires a really, really long time. There are no quick fixes or fast and tidy happy endings. Every hero story requires a long, winding, and arduous journey. 

You could say it takes ten thousand years.

I appreciate the insanity of that, if only because it wakes us up from our culture of immediacy.

Earlier this year, I read the book The End of Alzheimers. The doctor who wrote it, Dr. Dale Bredesen, believes he’s found some answers to alleviate the symptoms of Alzheimer’s. In some cases, his patients have become totally free from symptoms. But here’s the problem: the regimen he prescribes is complicated and time-consuming. It’s not a pill. It’s not easy. The regimen requires your absolute dedication to a bunch of stuff humans are generally terrible about: diet, exercise, sleeping enough, stress reduction. Plus you have to take vitamins on a strict schedule. 

Here’s the thing, though: you’d think we’d be motivated, since the alternative is…Alzheimer’s. But what he has found is that people are so reticent to do it. It’s so much work. Can’t he just prescribe a pill, they ask? 

I’ve been thinking about this for days. In my own life, I see where this same reticence (impatience?) is surfacing. I am now five weeks post-surgery. Five weeks, let’s all be clear, is not that long. My scars are still red. I’m still walking with a slight limp. And yet, somehow, I feel that I should now be moving more quickly in recovery. I find myself asking my poor, darling physical therapist what I can add next. I asked my doctor again when I get to go back to yoga. I’m happy to go straight ahead; I’m far less enamored with the ten thousand years part.

This is all very humbling, after spending a month practicing patience and, surprisingly, being remarkably okay about the absolute snail’s pace of life I was keeping. I am humbled to see how my old ways of lets-do-this-yesterday have appeared so quickly. (Hello, old friend.)

So, this week, I’m sticking to the mantra “ten thousand years.” It reminds me to slow my roll and remember that heroic perseverance never came quickly or easily. I have to walk before I can jog…which will take eight more weeks of waiting around doing wall slides. 

But I am also trying to remember, more solemnly, that not doing the work because of the ten thousand years is like not doing the work and just accepting Alzheimer’s. Is it really a viable option? 

On a side note, I feel that books are written this way. The only reason I have written books is because it was not a viable option not to write it. The book was insistent, despite the absolutely true feeling that books take ten thousand years to write. The level of work seems ridiculous. But at some point, you realize that not writing the book that is demanding to be born is equally ridiculous. 

The path becomes obvious, even though it’s hard. 

I think this relates to so many of us, in so many ways, probably most of the time. Alzheimer’s, surgery recovery, school, work, relationships, goals we’ve set…the list is endless. We think getting clarity for our next step is the hard part. But it isn’t. The hard part is taking all the next steps, over and over, and not giving up. 

So…straight ahead we go. For ten thousand years if we must. One step at a time. 

This post is part of the Paramita Project, where I’m practicing one of the Buddhist virtues each month for ten months. You can read all my posts on this month’s paramita, heroic perseverance, here.

Also…the book link supports Safe Spaces Lebanon. If you decide to purchase a book linked here, a portion will support a school in Lebanon for refugee children.