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     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.