Attachment

Last week I had the great honor of offering a workshop to Learn to Cope, "a peer-led network that offers support, resources, education, and hope for family members and friends who have loved ones affected by substance use disorder." This workshop was part of a four-part series where we explore trauma in relation to the Kleshas, mental states that block our ability to know our true nature as universal beings having a human experience. This recent workshop was on raga, which is often translated as attachment. From a scientific perspective, attachment is not a flaw; it is wired into our nervous system for survival. Human beings are social creatures, and biologically we regulate, or become dysregulated, in relationship with others.

When life feels overwhelming, this attachment system can become over-activated. We might cling tightly to loved ones, trying to protect them in ways that leave us exhausted or even cause unintended harm. We might forget the support we do have and instead reach for coping strategies that soothe us in the short term but don’t truly nourish us. These are not failures. They are survival strategies, the body’s way of managing unbearable stress.

I see these same patterns reflected in our wider world. People are quick to choose sides, to defend ideals, to blame and attack. So tightly gripping their positions that they lose sight of the real human beings caught in the middle. Two sides, so focused on proving the other wrong, that they forget the very lives they set out to defend.

This is not to excuse harmful actions, but an invitation to pause and consider context. Many of those now committing violence are barely adults themselves. They've been raised in a world of rapid change, social isolation, and digital distortion. Imagine growing up in a household marked by constant fighting. Now imagine that household being the entire country. Is it any wonder our youth feel unsafe, unseen, and without hope?

Meanwhile, it is often the young, like Greta Thunberg sailing aid toward Gaza, who are trying to carve out a just and livable future. The question remains: as the adults in the room, are we clinging to sides, or are we willing to grow and adapt, creating something more stable for them to inherit?

The invitation is not to detach or love less, but to soften our grip. To notice with compassion: when are we moving toward what sustains us, and when are we leaning into what only satisfies us for a moment? Both are human. Both are understandable. And with awareness, we open space for new choices, for deeper care. For what truly supports life, rather than what only feeds the fight.