How do you end the suffering in the world?

     So a week or so ago, one of my classmates asked me, "How do you end all the suffering in the world?"  My response was something like, "Well that's the $64,000 question, isn't it?  I would say the answer is to have everyone in the world practice buddhism.  But of course, you can't force people to practice buddhism.  So I guess there isn't really a way."  They looked at me for a second in confusion, then were like, "No, man! Kill everyone!  That's what everyone else has been saying."  Apparently this question had been asked of a few people that day, and the common response was to kill everyone.  He asked a classmate the same question right after, and that's the response he got then, too.  (Granted, that classmate in particular had just overheard our conversation and was giving that answer as a joke.  Also, I found out later this question was inspired by the end of the video game Final Fantasy 9 in which an evil robot or something comes to end the world's suffering by killing everyone and you must defeat it.)  I really liked this exchange.  Folks unfamiliar with buddhism would likely not know that that question is central to Shakyamuni's story of awakening and the inspiration for seeking the way in countless devotees that followed.  So I got really happy when he asked me this.  I was excited to talk about something that I have considered for a while.
     But in a way, the answer he got from everyone else is more accurate.  After all, I have seen first-hand how difficult it is to end one's own individual suffering, even with continual practice and reflection.  The answer of killing everyone reminded me of a Norm Fischer talk in which he submits that really the only way a person can end their suffering is suicide (if I remember correctly).  It reminded me of a Linda Galijan talk in which a story of buddha is recounted where someone asks him about troubles with his wife, his business, etc. and buddha says, "There are eighty kinds of suffering.  I can only help with one of them."  To which the person asks, "What's that one?" and buddha responds, "Dealing with the other 79."  [paraphrase].  Numerous times at Tassajara, I was reminded that buddhism is called a practice for good reason; no one picks up a guitar and can instantly play like Eric Clapton.  Similarly, simply practicing buddhism is not a way to end one's suffering -- at least, not instantly.
     So, I still like my answer better.  I do believe that the more I practice, the more adept I will be at not suffering.  The more I examine the small self that suffers, the less energy this small self will have to keep suffering going.  When I am clear-headed, it becomes very apparent that each instance of suffering is an opportunity to practice non-clinging, non-aversion, and to awaken to dharma.  So each opportunity I actually seize to practice really does represent a moment in which practice ends suffering. And because of this, I find it very important to continue, and (when I am able) to show others how to do so as well.  It's a marathon, though, not a sprint.  If I don't remember that, well... I suffer.

Drinking the Kool-Aid

     So I know that this phrase was originally used to reference the Jonestown Massacre, as a way of describing the "buying in" process it takes to think along the lines a cult wants you to, but lately I feel like its usage has broadened to mean a more general "buying in" of all kinds of ideas, lifestyles, attitudes, etc.  And even if this phrase is not so general these days, well that is still how I have been thinking about it.
     I have been thinking about it with regards to my experience in the Navy and what I want to do with my life afterward.  Recently, I have felt particularly out of place; a round peg trying to fit into a square hole.  I look around and see a fair amount of kool-aid drinking.  "He's a dirtbag." "Don't be that guy." "You're talking to a chief.  Of course you're wrong."  Stuff like that.  I would say the Navy is kind of cult-ish in many ways.  There seems to be a conflation between being a good team member and giving up your personal identity.  I know it is not truly this way, but the catch-phrases often seem to promote a subversion of critical thought in favor of aligning to military culture.  By the way I just noticed that "culture" starts with the word "cult."  Interesting.  But in any case, I get it.  It is important to follow procedure without questioning it, to trust that it has sound reasoning behind it, because in an emergency situation lives do depend on following one's training.  And I feel those of us in the nuclear propulsion training pipeline have an exceptional degree of instruction in the rationale behind the procedures we will be following.  The specific application of "Ship > shipmate > self" I feel is very important.  It is the extraneous personality traits that I could do without.  It is the attitude that I see many around me adopting that I feel is causing tension inside me, since I am not adopting it as well.  I don't want to drink the kool-aid, I just want to do my job.
     Funny enough, I had similar fears about zen buddhism at first.  As Brad Warner writes in his blog, Tassajara (really any zen center, or similar type of place) can be kind of cult-ey in its own way, too.  At first, I was really turned off by the apparent ethos of subverting thoughts of oneself as an individual, since "ego" is bad and we are all trying to awaken to "the true self," or whatever.  I wondered (and asked) what the end goal was -- a totally homogenous bunch of zen zombies with no preferences or even the instinct of self-preservation?  That's seriously how it seemed in certain lights.  But I realize that is not true.  Which is not to say there's no kool-aid at zen centers, either. 
     It occurs to me that whatever the thought process, narrative, or conceptualizations we are buying into in order to interact with the world around us, it still entails "buying in" -- it's all kool-aid.  There is "Defend freedom! Kill the bad guys and terrorists!" and then there is "All experience is part of one buddha body."  And then there is reality.  But with our minds being what they are, concepts do arise and (maybe this only applies to a beginner like myself) narratives can be helpful in doing whatever we are doing.  In a practice discussion while at Tassajara, a practice leader told me that we are always telling ourselves a story; but some stories are helpful and some are not.  I like that.  So here, I would say I think it is important to realize that one is always drinking kool-aid of some kind or another and to be careful about what kool-aid one drinks.  I felt so happy when I found the narrative of zen because it just seemed so damned rational.  I think the narrative of the Navy is useful, but it does not resonate for me in the same way that buddhism does.  So for the time being I am sipping from my cup, smiling at the other nice people in matching track suits, then spitting it out and sipping from my zen flask.  And I am doing this so I can learn more about the phenomenon of drinking kool-aid.

"Hell is other people" -- or -- Obstacles in walking the path of a bodhisattva

     So there's this guy in my class... Let's just call him "Alex."  Alex and I have a fair amount of static between us.  A big part of that is because for whatever reason, he seizes every opportunity he can to be derisive, rude, or just plain mean to me.  I don't understand why, but it really pisses me off.  On top of that, I find most every other thing about him annoying beyond belief.  He repeats the same jokes, the same TV show or movie quotes, day in and day out, and they're not even clever!  Judging by his mannerisms I am 100% sure he is homosexual, yet he maintains he is straight.  As a queer individual myself, this irritates me to no end.  In summary, he possesses all the worst personality traits of a spoiled, eighth-grade girl.  Because of this, it is extra infuriating that he has the gall to put me down. 
     It has occurred to me to pity him.  After all, most people only put others down because they themselves feel weak or insecure.  If he is in fact "in the closet," I should be understanding of the internal struggle that must be going on, having gone through it myself.  It has also occurred to me not to judge him at all; reenforcing stereotypes, limiting what others can be based on the small ideas I maintain about life, well that's just plain shitty.  And the extra suffering I experience from his mean-spirited comments is a direct result of my attempt to feel superior.
     I am reminded of a talk Darlene Cohen gave where she talked about a woman at the weekly sangha meeting who would irritate her.  What she had to do was practice letting go of the irritation when the meeting was over, and let the woman irritate her anew each week.  I should try that.  It's not just this one guy, though.  Lots of stuff that lots of people do bothers me.  Like when I vent about Alex to someone else, and they just calmly reply that we just have to not let small stuff bother us, cause we'll be in the same class for the next five months.  It frustrates me when other people seem much more adept at letting small stuff slide... I'M the one meditating and chanting! Surely I should be the best buddhist in the room!  Why are they so good at being collected if they don't even meditate?  Why am I so bad at it?  Would I be even worse if I didn't meditate?  Is that all my practice is good for -- just being not-quite-as-shitty as I would otherwise be?

I confess I am guilty of wanting something from practice.

     There's countless examples of other people bothering me, no point in trying to list them all.  At Tassajara, at some point it became abundantly clear to me that I am always the only source of my suffering.  Not my circumstances, not what happens to me, and certainly not other people, no matter how much it seems like it.  I have always tried to remember this lesson.  Well, as we can see from my experiences with Alex and other people, I am pretty forgetful these days.
     Jizo Bodhisattva vowed to go to the hell realms in his mission to save all beings... As he is one of the guiding inspirations for me, perhaps I can be inspired to be more enthusiastic about finding myself in hell (i.e. around other people, per Sartre's quote) and continue towards my goal of saving all beings as well... Starting with myself.

Dry Spell

     It has been just over three months since my last blog entry.  I am disappointed in myself.  I really intended to write more regularly when I started this blog, even if the posts were short and banal, but instead I have succumbed to torpor and let the practice of examination through writing stagnate somewhat.  But the title of this post is actually not a reference to the gap in blog posts; it is a reference to my sitting practice.
     Around April 10, I injured my right foot while playing frisbee, and eventually I had to get a cast put on.  At first, I used this as an excuse to take a vacation from zazen entirely (since I disliked sitting in a chair -- lower back pain being one reason).  But I eventually did make myself start sitting again; at first in a chair, then I even gave my pillow/zafu method a try with my right leg extended out.  My practice is still rather haphazard compared to the trend I was on before the injury, however this experience has yielded some insight into my approach to practice.
     I have often wondered why I try to do zazen every day.  I mean, I practically jumped at a chance to stop doing it, guilt-free... If it is such a burden then why do it?  Like, even if I would sit every day for a week, I would still have bad days and good days; I would still snap at people sometimes; I would fall easily into greed, hatred, and delusion.  Well, after my vacation, I noticed that when I wasn't sitting regularly, my bad days were worse and I would fall into the three poisons more often.  This is one observation which got me back on the wagon, if only by one hand and jumping to keep up.  I'm guessing the effect that I observed is akin to that which I have heard Brad Warner, among others, describing; like brushing one's teeth, daily zazen shakes up some of the stuff which has settled in the mind, allowing it to drift along its way and yielding more clarity.  With this additional clarity, one is less likely to be tricked by deluded thinking and fall into negative patterns.  Okay, so I sit zazen in order to suffer less.  Oh, I also remember my dreams much more.
     It bugs me to think that I should be so transactional about this (see "Thank you for your service"); in other words, I give up the time every day it takes to meditate and I give up some degree of comfort while I am meditating in exchange for less suffering.  It further bugs me that I should fall into comparing mind to motivate myself back on the cushion (I am MORE calm and aware when I do zazen than when I don't).  But all this hemming and hawing is just silly!  I am forgetting that practicing zen is really for the benefit of all beings (including myself), and there is no reason to be bugged by the natural fruits of practice.  I feel discouraged when I think that there is no way sitting on a cushion can affect the countless hearts of people I will never meet and therefore can't end the world's suffering... but that is silly too because I am forgetting the ways in which I benefit people with whom I interact on a daily basis; when I am calmer and more aware, my actions are more skillful, and I am thus beneficial to others.  One of the vows I chant after sitting goes, "Beings are numberless; I vow to save them."  It doesn't say "all of them."  Over the course of one life, the beings one can "save" or more practically "benefit" are indeed numberless.  And so I practice for the beings I CAN benefit, and pray for the ones I can't.
     As a final thought, and a further turning of this dharma wheel, I just wanted to say that all of this angst and justification are totally unnecessary, and they are even avoidable if I were to just do the practice of just sitting.  It occurs to me that "shikantaza" means not only "just sitting" when on the cushion, but "JUST SITTING!!!" when approaching the cushion as well; not rationalizing, not comparing, not scrutinizing... Just... Sitting...  Letting thoughts that arise fall away whether I am on a zafu or a chair, in my room, in a zendo, or in the Rickover building listening to a complaint from a classmate... 

     Damn... this practice is so hard, but so important, too...  I suppose if I suffer less, if I am more skillful with others, so much the better...  But just sit, Burnham, okay?  Okay.

Perception is Reality

     One quote I've heard a lot since joining the Navy is, "perception is reality."  It started in boot camp: our Recruit Division Commander(s) would shout it back to us if anyone argued that they weren't talking in the galley, sleeping, or doing whatever they were accused of doing when they got called out for breaking the rules.  It meant that simply giving the appearance that you were doing something out of line means a petty officer or chief is well within their rights to harp on you for it.  For the record, I mean sleeping anytime between reveille and taps (during a presentation, for example, when it is necessary to stay awake.)  This phrase has persisted into nuclear field training, where the following scenario plays out fairly often: Chief: "SN So-and-so, go stand at a podium in back for the rest of class."  SN So-and-so: "But I wasn't sleeping."  Chief: "Perception is reality."
     This phrase continues to strike me as enormously profound.  I know, I know, all the petty officers mean by it is, "Look, you were laying your head down on your desk.  As far as I am concerned, that's as bad as sleeping.  Stop quibbling about whether or not you were literally asleep and do as you're told since you were obviously not sitting up and paying attention like you should have been."  Younguns, as it turns out, are remarkably prone to argue with authority figures.  Catch phrases go a long way to convey proper military behavior.  But still... it's pretty zen, I think.
     Perhaps that sounds like a contradiction.  Zen, as I understand it, instructs us to set aside our perceptions, not to believe in them, and instead remind ourselves that perception taints reality, colors it as something different than it is.  All means of perceiving are empty.  But going further, perhaps it dawns on one that such tainted input, flawed though it may be, is the only means of interacting with reality afforded to this body.  While it is important not to get carried away by the thoughts we form about what goes on around us, while satori may be a beautiful experience of truth, a smack in the head from a teacher's kosu still hurts.  And that is very naturally true.  As the Pink Floyd song goes, "...all you touch and all you see is all your life will ever be."
     So perhaps "perception is reality" is inaccurate.  Maybe "perception distorts reality" is more accurate. 

     Maybe, "our perception, flawed though it may be, is the closest experience of reality we get." 

     Maybe, "the reality of interdependent co-arising is comprised at least partially by one's own flawed perception and the flawed perception of all beings." 

     Yeah.  That one has a nice ring to it.  And as zen would have us face reality, I feel we would do well to face the perceptions of others as well as our own.
     For example:  Is zen a religion or not?

...

     One day in boot camp, the setting sun was shining in brilliantly through the fogged windows.  Several of my shipmates were trying to see the sun.  Then they complained about their eyes hurting.  I don't remember what exactly the words I shouted at them were, but it was something like, "Holy shit! Of COURSE your eyes hurt you fucking dumbasses!  You've been trying to stare at the fucking sun! There's a REASON you're not supposed to do that!"  I had been having a bad day.  Probably.  In any case it's the response that sticks with me the most:  One guy went, "Wow.  You want to be a zen buddhist monk and you use words like that?"  A lot of responses went through my head, like pointing out how it takes a while for reality/practice to develop towards intention, or how his idea of "monk" is too limited, but I think all I said was, "yeah." or something.  But that issue has remained in my memory, illustrating as it does what peoples' perceptions of religion are.
     I wholeheartedly endorse Brad Warner's position as he states in this blog post.  It really speaks to me.  However I also have noticed that people tend to look at the incense, statues, candles, chanting, austere silent sitting, and perceive "religion."  That is human nature.  The military chaplain corps offers the following options to service members: Christian, Jewish, Muslim, Buddhist.  As much as I shuddered to hear "worship" used to refer equally to the various "religious needs" of Christian/Jewish/Muslim sects and buddhist meditation together (since for me there is no aspect of "worship" in my buddhist practices*, though it did occur to me that several branches of buddhist practice are much more similar to some Christian practices than they are to zen), I also had to acknowledge that until people hear otherwise they are bound naturally to perceive any religious practice as just a different flavor of what they have experienced for themselves.
     So in the spirit of the Middle Way, with respect to perceptions about religion, I try to eschew my own perceptions while at the same time accepting the perceptions of others as being a part of reality, part of the "where I am" in the dictum "start where you are."  To use peoples' perceptions as a jumping-off point, not trying to "correct" them, that should be my focus.


*I suppose "homage" is pretty close, all things being equal... but I still don't like the word "worship."

The Power of an Apology

     Last week on Friday, our class had lab exercises all morning.  I partnered with a person who sometimes rubs me the wrong way with their brusque manner.  Long story short, it wasn't too long before I felt that I was getting my intelligence insulted, that I was being rushed, that I was being viewed as incompetent, and it got me angry.  I let my anger show.  Then, I regretted it.  But no matter how nice I tried to be the rest of lab, I could feel the other person had withdrawn behind a wall, and there was nothing I could do to make the tension go away.
     Well, almost nothing.  It occurred to me during lunch that regardless of how I felt from my interactions with this person, the way I responded was negative and unhelpful.  And I can always apologize for my actions.  And furthermore, I can always forgive others for theirs.  So I resolved to forgive the perceived slight and I apologized to that person when we returned to class.  And I felt a LOT better.  The tension between us melted, and the weight of the negativity that I had been carrying around in my heart vanished.  In its place grew a sense of well-being and equanimity.
     Now this positive sense was not to last long, as an interaction with another classmate shortly thereafter put me once again in a foul mood.  I don't think I reacted angrily in person (as I did that morning), but I sure gave them a big piece of my mind in my imagination.  And inside, the outcome was just as destructive: my equanimity had left me and the ball of tension was back.
     I don't know whether karma has a metaphysical aspect or not, but within an hour something uncanny happened: the second person apologized to me.  And I felt a lot better.  And it made me think that maybe that's how I affected the person from that morning.  And it really drove the point home that apologies are powerful.  It made me think of a day at Tassajara...
     That morning, my friend said something really bitchy to me.  And it really hit me hard; my emotions were really raw almost all summer.  My mind took me for a pretty bad trip... like REALLY bad, really fraught with negativity.  I tried talking to him about it later but it just made things even worse.  And I had to get to work for guest dinner.  But while I was going about my business, he came up to me and offered me a sincere apology, and all that negativity just went *woosh* ... gone, gone, gone really far away... It was like seeing a dark storm far away over the ocean, on the horizon.
     And all this makes me think of a quote I saw in a meme on facebook:

Forgive.  Not because the other deserves forgiveness,

but because you deserve peace.

     Well I think in general most all of us do deserve forgiveness, but I don't want to labor that point.  It's a good reminder that the action of forgiveness, the action of an apology, the harmonious dance between those two complimentary actions, really has the power to put out a furnace of emotion inside us and to let us move on to a calmer, happier state.  So give it a try next time you think of it.  It works for me!

Search for a Story

     Lately, I've felt enormous difficulty in practicing buddhism, a lot of confusion.  In order to counteract this, I have been trying to settle upon a succinct expression of my practice that I can remember, like a mantra perhaps, and with which I can re-focus my attention and motivate myself in following this path.  So I wrote down some that came to mind, and wrote down some thoughts, and hopefully something comes up.

My practice is:

Like having a molten iron ball in my throat, which I cannot swallow and cannot spit out.
     This is a koan that I found very helpful in times of difficulty during my summer at Tassajara, and it is an immensely accurate metaphor for my life and practice.  I miss Tassajara dearly.  Dear: (from the free online Merriam-Webster dictionary) "highly valued : precious ... affectionate, fond ... heartfelt," (from Google) "regarded with deep affection".  Yes.  All of that.  And lately I have experienced a profound tension between my longing to return to Tassajara to study and ordain as a monk and my duty to complete the military service I agreed to.  Truly, it is beyond duty, and I know it.  For all the reasons I have already mentioned (and some I haven't, and still more that I have yet to uncover), I do freely undertake my military service.  My perception that it somehow stands between me and somewhere I would rather be is so quintessentially indicative of my susceptibility to greed, hate, and delusion as to be laughable.  So I make peace with my desire, I make peace with my aversion, and I make peace with my delusion.  I remember that being a sailor is merely a step on my way to becoming a monk.  Serving in the Navy will end up serving me, allowing me to return to Tassajara (or anywhere) under my own financial steam.  And my experience throughout is actually the flesh and bones of practice, rather than some ceremonious activity in the mountains of California.  Really, I think the tension I feel about my term of enlistment and my aspirations to follow thereafter might be viewed or interpreted as actually tension between my idealistic and practical natures, or as difficulty in resolving acceptance of the world for what it is with the hope to improve it.  And that is never going to go away; there will always be people, for example, who feel that an attitude of living for the benefit of all beings is foolish because ending the suffering of the world is an impossible task.  Well I would be very foolish indeed to believe it were actually possible to save every person from their greed, hate, and delusion.  But it is not my wish to throw my hands up and stop trying to live an awakened life.  So without spitting out the molten iron ball in my throat, and without swallowing it, whatever else I do is practice.

Non-clinging and non-aversion
     This is a good companion to the last one.  My practice is striving to accept what is, as it is... not getting caught up in wishing I was at Tassajara instead of in the Navy.  Because as I explored earlier, such wishes are useless.  My practice is also throwing away my ideas of what it means to be in the Navy as fast as they crop up.  In this way I cultivate being not "sticky," and what I can experience in place of my ideas and daydreams is actual dharma.

Living by vow and not by karma
     If I had continued living by karma, I would still be working at Starbucks -- staying up too late watching TV, putting off house chores and neglecting my first true aspiration of making a living as a comic/actor.  Instead, I formulated a plan based on new goals that shows real potential to enable me in living a more meaningful life.  I am "engaged to be engaged," doing the Navy thing in support of my aspiration to ordain and train.

Seeing one thing through to the end
     This phrase comes to me from another Suzuki-Roshi quote, in which he is answering a student's question about what Nirvana is.  In a dharma talk I listened to recently, Jaime Howell said that this phrase shouldn't be interpreted for something like the military.  Well, so much for that admonition.  Ironically, I joined the Navy after seeing from my experience at Tassajara in the summer of 2011 that I DO have the ability to see something through to the end, even when it is difficult.  And so I remember this description of Nirvana in times of difficulty, when thoughts of giving up come slinking seductively up my arm like a waif in a dive bar (as they did numerous times at Tassajara, and again in boot camp, and occasionally here at nuke school) because it is true.  I received no glorious dose of supreme radiation as I rode in the passenger seat of my friend James's rental car as he drove out of the valley and back to Los Angeles when I was finally finished with my 5-month stay.  Rather, I just felt peace.  Later, it occurred to me that what I did NOT feel was more important: regret (at leaving prematurely), anger (at whatever caused me to leave), lust (for the comforts I had been living without).  And I suppose that is more what constitutes Nirvana anyway: absence rather than content.  So again, I practice seeing this thing through to the end.  And then the next thing, and then the next thing...

The best practice I've had so far
     This phrase came to me from my good friend Evan Casler, who actually introduced me to zen back when we were roommates in Tucson.  He said it in describing what things were like for him as a member of the board of directors for Zen Desert Sangha in the wake of Pat Hawk Roshi's death.  It's a very poignant observation; it is when practicing becomes difficult that it is most important.  For me, that time is right now.  I am mostly surrounded by people who are at best unfamiliar with buddhist concepts (and at worst downright hostile to them) -- a far cry from the support offered by an intentional community.  I am employed all day every day by an organization whose sole purpose is to kill people and sow destruction, when instructed to by government leaders.  So I can throw "right livelihood" out the window (for now).  The culture of this organization is downright psychotic: on the one hand acknowledging over and over that we are people and people make mistakes, but on the other hand fostering a merciless conviction in notions such as that people either ARE or ARE NOT "dirtbags," that perception IS reality, and that being in charge means being right.  The effect this has on many people that I have seen (including myself) is subtle and worrisome.  My teacher was right to try to dissuade me from taking my practice into this environment.  Indeed, it sometimes seems impossible.  But as stated above, it is in those times that practice becomes most essential. 

And with that, I come to a phrase that occurred to me that I quite like. 

My practice is...      

...like carving a path in solid rock.

"Thank you for your service"

      One issue which I have been wanting to explore through writing about it is all the thoughts and feelings that come up for me when someone thanks me for my service.  A lot of them are pretty negative, actually, and not always because it is difficult for me simply to receive the gratitude of someone else.  If I give someone a present, it is easier.  It is expected, really, so I think that is one reason why it is easier.  But that gratitude is also partly the reason I gave the present in the first place: I wanted to make that person happy.  If I do someone a favor, it is also easier to receive their gratitude.  At least it is easier than receiving "payback" from them.  For me, doing someone a favor is not about getting something back, nor is it about generating good will from anybody.  It is simply about doing a good thing for its own sake.  (Full disclosure: I am sure there have been a few occasions on which I did a favor for someone in order to get something in return, but I can't now remember them.)  As for my choice to serve in the Navy, well... I've discussed that at great length.  It is almost totally to accomplish my own goals.  So from the get-go, having someone thank me for it makes me uncomfortable.  My service is not a present, and it is not a favor.  It is a transaction.
     My knee-jerk reaction to many peoples' expressions of gratitude for my service is that for them, this gratitude is also transactional in nature.  In exchange for giving adoration and respect to the military, they are basically entitled to a wide array of emotional/psychological rewards.  For starters, they get to continue to co-opt the image they have of the United States military for use in bolstering their own feeling of self-worth or for use in combating feelings of insecurity.  They get to mitigate discomfort they may feel for not serving themselves by astutely playing their role as dutiful civilian.  They get to feel connected, somehow, to a world they will never know, to a culture they depend on.
     I realize, of course, that this reaction is pretty flawed (like many knee-jerk reactions are) even while it may uncover some less-than-flattering nuggets of truth.  For example, one group which tends to express gratitude for the military fairly regularly are actually vets or family of vets themselves.  What is more, I know in my heart that basically all the people who thank members of the armed forces for their service are not doing so with a conscious feeling of transaction such as I have described.  Perhaps there is some semblance of the struggle to cope with guilt or to fulfill a perceived duty, but it seems absurd to believe that such a struggle is taking place anywhere besides deep in the person's subconscious.  And what's more, the presence of such a struggle is completely irrelevant; they are honestly expressing gratitude, and in my thoughts I am shitting all over it.  At least, I have (often... more often than I'd like to admit).  But in the aftermath of continual self-examination, I have begun to shift my attitude and to attempt different mental action.
     This whole situation is reminiscent of my time in the high school drama department.  I had been acting for a while by that point, and I took it fairly seriously.  I was always my harshest critic.  There were many times I would finish a show and feel pretty pissed about how I had done.  In greeting my parents afterward, I would usually deflect any praise they offered with my own opinion of my performance.  My dad had to remind me on more than a few occasions not to do that when, for example, our elderly neighbor or some other adult who had helped raise me offered their praise.  "Don't be a jerk," he would say, "just thank them and smile."  It reminded me of the Thespian Creed (don't laugh... okay I guess it is funny), which said, "...to accept praise and criticism with grace..."  Years later and I still must remind myself of that lesson my dad tried to teach me: it is simply wrong to dismiss or disparage the thoughts or feelings of someone else just because I think I know better. 
     I also, however, have a right to my feelings... Like I have a right to look at a mass of housewives, Harley riders, and boy scouts waving flags at some event and think, "Dear God, how much better a country we would be if we could support teachers with this much enthusiasm..."  Or, when a guy comes up to me and talks about his wife and two daughters, almost trying to inspire me with his mid western domesticity, I have a right to mentally ascend my high-horse and pledge my service to ALL Americans but most especially gay couples trying to get married and adopt children, Muslims outcast by their countrymen, poor Mexican immigrants living off food stamps, and pot-smoking hippies.
     So, here's the deal:  I want to make one more point.  Then I will end this and move on.  It is easy to thank soldiers, marines, airmen, and sailors.  The only people they kill (as Chief pointed out, we do kill people for a living) are far away, and the decision to send us one place or another is in the hands of democratically-elected leaders.  The direct benefit we provide is kind of hard to explain in detail, though it is absolutely certain, and it feels good to thank people who are charged with "National Defense."  But what about those teachers?  They are crucial, too.  Or how about firefighters or paramedics?  What they do is certainly more than just a job.  For that matter, when was the last time anyone thanked a cop?  Cops give us speeding tickets and can sometimes come off as a hassle, but I think they see more danger in their day-to-day life than I will in the bowels of a carrier, and they probably protect just as many Americans, since we kill each other more than foreigners kill us.  My point is that there are a lot of people who contribute, who deserve to be thanked, too.
     That's all I wanted to say, though.  Even though I joined the Navy to travel more, to pay my bills easier, to experience more life and challenge myself more than I would have if I had stayed out, I gladly accept the gratitude of any who feel moved to give it.  I can't deny that my reasons for joining do not negate the protection my service provides.  I will stop putting words in your mouth.  I will stop putting thoughts in your head.  Serving in the Navy is my pleasure, and you are welcome.