The first fish/ I ever caught/ would not lie down/ quiet in the pail/ but flailed and sucked/ at the burning/ amazement of the air/ and died/ in the slow pouring off/ of rainbows. Later/ I opened his body and separated/ the flesh from the bones/ and ate him. Now the sea/ is in me: I am the fish, the fish/ glitters in me; we are/ risen, tangled together, certain to fall/ back to the sea. Out of pain,/ and pain, and more pain/ we feed this feverish plot, we are nourished/ by the mystery.

Mary Oliver

This poem makes me think of the Buddhist concept of shenpa. I want to suggest, using Mary Oliver’s imagery, shenpa is the feverish plot by which pain feeds on pain, feeds on pain, feeds on pain. Pema Chodron explains, “[Shenpa]  is usually translated ‘attachment,’ but a more descriptive translation might be ‘hooked.’ When shenpa hooks us, we’re likely to get stuck.”

Shenpa is to be like pouring kerosene on a fire to put it out. Chodron also discusses the shenpa as, “the urge.” She states, “The momentum behind the urge is so strong that we never pull out of the habitual pattern of turning to poison for comfort.” Shenpa results from our unwillingness to experience uneasiness, uneven ground, suffering or pain. Shenpa is the action we take to ease our pain, even if our action ultimately leads to more pain.

The Buddhist spiritual teaching of shenluk, or renunciation, can explain the peace Oliver finds. Chodron describes, “Renunciation, shenluk, means turning shenpa upside-down, or shaking it up. The interesting thing is that there is no way to really renounce the shenpa.  . . .  In the Buddhist teachings, it is really not about casting something out but about seeing clearly and fully experiencing the shenpa.” In returning to Oliver, shenluk is the realization, even celebration, that the sea is in us and ultimately we are nourished by the mystery of our pain.

How do we become nourished by the mystery of our pain? Nourishment looks like the fish glitter, rise, and tangle inside us. Nourishment looks like knowing in our bones we are worthy of love despite, and maybe because of, our pain. Nourishment looks like making peace with the pain. Nourishment looks like telling the truth to ourselves and others. Nourishment looks like being present. That is the lesson of the fish.