If there is one lesson I am grateful to have learned from the Navy, it can be summed up in the phrase I used for this post's title. When I first heard a chief say this to me, I almost laughed aloud I was so delightfully surprised by the direct wisdom of this playful yet stern catchphrase. I really feel that this is pointing to a lesson I have learned time and again through zen practice.
I have a lot of problems. They range from macroscopic (how will the human species avoid destroying ourselves?) to trivial (fucking assholes don't know how to merge!). Quick aside: it seems like those two problems are really just different iterations of the same underlying frustration. But anyways... At work, I sometimes delay my own progress out of frustration with some such issue or another. This only hurts me. At times, doing this even adds to my frustration. The resolution I imagine will fix everything will never come to be. The resolution I should instead put my efforts toward realizing is essentially equanimity: the willingness to experience any mental state (nod to Darlene Cohen for that phrasing). When I am unwilling to be frustrated, I am unwilling to deal with my frustration in a constructive way.
Getting all butt-hurt about stuff is useless. Whining about it and ruminating only make it worse. The buddhist guidance of right attitude is not something I will eventually obtain after practicing at Tassajara (though I may benefit in other ways). I can practice the noble eightfold path (or whichever spoke is applicable) here and now. Sometimes, though, I need a verbal smack on the head to remind me of this.
Sunday, September 27, 2015
Tuesday, April 21, 2015
Three Soda Cans -- Or: Pragmatism, not idealism
I frequently get really upset over what appear to be small issues. I felt like writing about this one for some reason.
The other day on board the ship, we did a ceremony to commemorate "crossing the line" -- when a ship crosses the equator. It is a tradition steeped in maritime history. For our ship, it involved a lot of water and no small amount of dirt... and also some tuna. In any case, it was pretty messy. I lucked out and got to the showers before a long line formed. A couple guys waiting in the berthing area asked if I would get sodas for them. I agreed. Then I did my laundry. Later, I got back to the berthing and the three empty soda cans were just left out... on my locker no less. There were three because one of the guys asked me to get him two sodas. Some different guys were talking about this. It was not the only example of littering that day; they recounted an exchange with another guy in berthing who left his soda cans out, too, in which he gave the excuse that the berthing was going to get cleaned up later, anyway. It didn't seem important to him that he might not be the one to clean it. I told one of the guys I bought a soda for that I didn't appreciate him leaving his can out. He gave me the same retort. There wasn't even a hint of apology, even though he must have been able to tell I was upset about it. When I was venting about this to a friend, I said something to the effect of, "I'll think really hard before I do something nice for someone again."
I was upset because I hate the pathologically pragmatic attitude I encounter so frequently on board this ship which excuses indecency and makes work for others. I pick up a lot of soda cans and other trash because people leave it laying around in the classroom, head, berthing, pretty much everywhere.
It is not hard for me to understand that people often don't clean up after themselves because there is a compulsory period of cleaning every day during which this trash gets picked up. Knowing that one's soda can will be cleaned up by someone else because it is part of the routine, one would be hard-pressed to make a convincing argument why one SHOULD throw away one's own soda can. Now, I estimate the percentage of people that behaves this way is small. Most soda cans and other trash get thrown away with no problem. And I think that is because common decency is still pretty common. But today it occurred to me that such motivation is idealistic rather than pragmatic.
I hate the frustration I feel when I am challenged to convince someone of something with pragmatic logic when I myself believe it because of my personal ideology. I was also upset because I don't like feeling like being idealistic is a bad thing (and by the way, I really don't think I was being that idealistic!). But lately I have been reading a book which suggests that buddhism is not an idealistic religion but a pragmatic one. The happiness that is said to come from buddhism is a result of living according to the dharma. So we live buddha's teaching and naturally are free from suffering. Bam! That's pragmatic. Interesting. But I was still upset -- maybe most of all -- because if buddhist practice is supposed to yield happiness, then why wasn't my good deed from an hour ago making me happy in the face of this wretched selfishness? Well, I thought it over and here's what I came up with: The spontaneous generosity was buddhist practice. When I projected retroactive expectations onto those guys, however, that was not buddhist practice. They played Pirates of the Caribbean on the ship's TVs that day, and a quote from Jack Sparrow sums it up best: "They done what's right by them. Can't expect any more than that." Even when evaluating the past, to attach to a certain outcome will create suffering, e.g. anger. And yes there ARE some things worth getting angry about in order to change... Maybe littering is one of them. But I have to be willing to experience the anger that arises and channel it. If I am not willing, I fall victim to the ravages of my own mind's karma.
I sometimes doubt the purported pragmatism of buddhism. Maybe that is because I am mistaking an idealistic notion of buddhism for actual buddhism, and I am mistaking a rough, common idea of pragmatism for the way buddhism actually works. It's not magic, it's just the cause and effect of the mind and body. And though buddhist pragmatism may be too subtle to explain in a convincing, materialistic way, that is not the same as being idealistic. But then what's with all that flowery, universal compassion stuff? And IS "common decency" an ideal?
By the way, there were nine uses of "pragmatic" or forms of that word, including the title, in this entry.
It is not hard for me to understand that people often don't clean up after themselves because there is a compulsory period of cleaning every day during which this trash gets picked up. Knowing that one's soda can will be cleaned up by someone else because it is part of the routine, one would be hard-pressed to make a convincing argument why one SHOULD throw away one's own soda can. Now, I estimate the percentage of people that behaves this way is small. Most soda cans and other trash get thrown away with no problem. And I think that is because common decency is still pretty common. But today it occurred to me that such motivation is idealistic rather than pragmatic.
I hate the frustration I feel when I am challenged to convince someone of something with pragmatic logic when I myself believe it because of my personal ideology. I was also upset because I don't like feeling like being idealistic is a bad thing (and by the way, I really don't think I was being that idealistic!). But lately I have been reading a book which suggests that buddhism is not an idealistic religion but a pragmatic one. The happiness that is said to come from buddhism is a result of living according to the dharma. So we live buddha's teaching and naturally are free from suffering. Bam! That's pragmatic. Interesting. But I was still upset -- maybe most of all -- because if buddhist practice is supposed to yield happiness, then why wasn't my good deed from an hour ago making me happy in the face of this wretched selfishness? Well, I thought it over and here's what I came up with: The spontaneous generosity was buddhist practice. When I projected retroactive expectations onto those guys, however, that was not buddhist practice. They played Pirates of the Caribbean on the ship's TVs that day, and a quote from Jack Sparrow sums it up best: "They done what's right by them. Can't expect any more than that." Even when evaluating the past, to attach to a certain outcome will create suffering, e.g. anger. And yes there ARE some things worth getting angry about in order to change... Maybe littering is one of them. But I have to be willing to experience the anger that arises and channel it. If I am not willing, I fall victim to the ravages of my own mind's karma.
I sometimes doubt the purported pragmatism of buddhism. Maybe that is because I am mistaking an idealistic notion of buddhism for actual buddhism, and I am mistaking a rough, common idea of pragmatism for the way buddhism actually works. It's not magic, it's just the cause and effect of the mind and body. And though buddhist pragmatism may be too subtle to explain in a convincing, materialistic way, that is not the same as being idealistic. But then what's with all that flowery, universal compassion stuff? And IS "common decency" an ideal?
By the way, there were nine uses of "pragmatic" or forms of that word, including the title, in this entry.
Monday, April 13, 2015
My Tattoos
My first two tattoos ever are a pair that I have thought about getting since I was at Tassajara. It's been a decent amount of time since I got them, and I am still happy that I got them. I talked a little about them on Facebook when I got them, but I wanted to expound on the small blurbs I typed when I posted pics.
Style-wise, I like that there is symmetry (they are both short phrases, one on each arm), but there is also asymmetry (the one on my right arm has a little wave shape to the text). Here's what they say: on my left arm, "Breathe through it"; on my right arm, "Turn the light inward". The lettering is basically my own "fancy" print. They are advice -- notes from myself, to myself. The first one, "Breathe through it", was said to me by a practice leader at Tassajara when I asked about what to do when I feel overwhelmed by negative states of mind. For some reason, the power of the utter simplicity and truth of this made a huge impact on me. I want never to forget this simple advice. Even though I know what I got tattooed on my arm, I like that I can look at it from time to time and remember that I at one point heard a piece of advice that I wanted to never ever forget. In some ways, it is like summarizing all the lessons I have ever learned from zazen in one sentence. Am I feeling physical discomfort? Breathe through it. Am I frustrated at work and cannot wait to get home? Breathe through it. Am I feeling such intense anger or sadness that unwholesome desires or daydreams manifest ceaselessly? Breathe through it.
Especially now, onboard my carrier, deployed, trapped with a lot of people who are less enthusiastic than I am about being considerate of others, it is vital that I remember many things. First, my practice is for others. That is something that my teacher has said, and it is important not to lose sight of the fact that I practice for the benefit of others. While it is true that I suffer less through buddhist practice, my goal is to benefit those around me. Second, now is never forever. This "now" will always become another "now", complete with its own mind states and possibilities. Maybe it is really, really similar to the one right before it. But it is not the same. Whatever is happening in the present WILL change, sooner or later. I have only to focus on my breathing and remember the transient nature of reality. And hey, maybe I can learn something. Third, when I respond to negativity with more negativity, I am effectively taking on another person's bad karma. When someone lashes out at someone else, it is because they are suffering. Sadly, expressing that negativity leads to more suffering. I can either engage that negativity skillfully and help both parties suffer less, or I can engage it unskillfully and both parties suffer. This may be overly simplistic, but it is more or less the truth in interpersonal conflict.
That third thing that I must remember ties in to my other tattoo. The phrase "Turn the light inward" comes from Dogen. I don't know which fascicle, but I bet it's one of the essays in Shobogenzo. The whole sentence is something like "Turn the light inward and take the backward step," but just the first part caught my attention. It's got a few meanings which I want to remember. One interpretation is that when I look at others' faults and judge them, I am shining a light on them -- like a beam of investigation, I find out their flaws and hunt for the causes of their behavior to solve their problems (or just feel superior). But I really need to take that beam and turn it on myself. This interpretation reminds me of a quote I heard attributed to Confucius: "When I see virtue in others, I vow to emulate it. When I see evil, I look within." Rather than waste energy critiquing the behavior of others, which not only doesn't help anything but is also a shitty habit in terms of personal growth, I should examine my own life and look for the ways I can be more skillful, compassionate, and wise. Besides, as another Dogen quote goes, "Only a fish knows a fish's heart." I have no idea what's going on for that other person over there. So it is not for me to judge. Another meaning of this phrase for me relates to learning truth, to finding a solution to a problem. I think it is fair to say that the root of every problem I have ever had, the source of all my suffering, lies within myself. But the good news is that inside is also the source of the end of suffering, the source of wisdom, the source of the solution. So there is no need to look for the truth anywhere beyond my own experience. This ties into the third meaning. This meaning is much more vague, and I only feel a sense of this meaning so far. It is something like, investigating within is the way to realize the truth. I feel like I maybe already said that, but this time I mean it more generally. Dogen says, "To study Zen is to study the self. To study the self is to forget the self. Forgetting the self, one is actualized by everything." So the first step in the great endeavor of realizing the truth of zen involves looking within and seeing exactly what it is that's there. I should do that. But I forget to do that. So I got a reminder tattooed on my right arm.
Style-wise, I like that there is symmetry (they are both short phrases, one on each arm), but there is also asymmetry (the one on my right arm has a little wave shape to the text). Here's what they say: on my left arm, "Breathe through it"; on my right arm, "Turn the light inward". The lettering is basically my own "fancy" print. They are advice -- notes from myself, to myself. The first one, "Breathe through it", was said to me by a practice leader at Tassajara when I asked about what to do when I feel overwhelmed by negative states of mind. For some reason, the power of the utter simplicity and truth of this made a huge impact on me. I want never to forget this simple advice. Even though I know what I got tattooed on my arm, I like that I can look at it from time to time and remember that I at one point heard a piece of advice that I wanted to never ever forget. In some ways, it is like summarizing all the lessons I have ever learned from zazen in one sentence. Am I feeling physical discomfort? Breathe through it. Am I frustrated at work and cannot wait to get home? Breathe through it. Am I feeling such intense anger or sadness that unwholesome desires or daydreams manifest ceaselessly? Breathe through it.
Especially now, onboard my carrier, deployed, trapped with a lot of people who are less enthusiastic than I am about being considerate of others, it is vital that I remember many things. First, my practice is for others. That is something that my teacher has said, and it is important not to lose sight of the fact that I practice for the benefit of others. While it is true that I suffer less through buddhist practice, my goal is to benefit those around me. Second, now is never forever. This "now" will always become another "now", complete with its own mind states and possibilities. Maybe it is really, really similar to the one right before it. But it is not the same. Whatever is happening in the present WILL change, sooner or later. I have only to focus on my breathing and remember the transient nature of reality. And hey, maybe I can learn something. Third, when I respond to negativity with more negativity, I am effectively taking on another person's bad karma. When someone lashes out at someone else, it is because they are suffering. Sadly, expressing that negativity leads to more suffering. I can either engage that negativity skillfully and help both parties suffer less, or I can engage it unskillfully and both parties suffer. This may be overly simplistic, but it is more or less the truth in interpersonal conflict.
That third thing that I must remember ties in to my other tattoo. The phrase "Turn the light inward" comes from Dogen. I don't know which fascicle, but I bet it's one of the essays in Shobogenzo. The whole sentence is something like "Turn the light inward and take the backward step," but just the first part caught my attention. It's got a few meanings which I want to remember. One interpretation is that when I look at others' faults and judge them, I am shining a light on them -- like a beam of investigation, I find out their flaws and hunt for the causes of their behavior to solve their problems (or just feel superior). But I really need to take that beam and turn it on myself. This interpretation reminds me of a quote I heard attributed to Confucius: "When I see virtue in others, I vow to emulate it. When I see evil, I look within." Rather than waste energy critiquing the behavior of others, which not only doesn't help anything but is also a shitty habit in terms of personal growth, I should examine my own life and look for the ways I can be more skillful, compassionate, and wise. Besides, as another Dogen quote goes, "Only a fish knows a fish's heart." I have no idea what's going on for that other person over there. So it is not for me to judge. Another meaning of this phrase for me relates to learning truth, to finding a solution to a problem. I think it is fair to say that the root of every problem I have ever had, the source of all my suffering, lies within myself. But the good news is that inside is also the source of the end of suffering, the source of wisdom, the source of the solution. So there is no need to look for the truth anywhere beyond my own experience. This ties into the third meaning. This meaning is much more vague, and I only feel a sense of this meaning so far. It is something like, investigating within is the way to realize the truth. I feel like I maybe already said that, but this time I mean it more generally. Dogen says, "To study Zen is to study the self. To study the self is to forget the self. Forgetting the self, one is actualized by everything." So the first step in the great endeavor of realizing the truth of zen involves looking within and seeing exactly what it is that's there. I should do that. But I forget to do that. So I got a reminder tattooed on my right arm.
Wednesday, March 25, 2015
What I'm Running From
It has been nearly a year since the last time I wrote in this blog. As luck would have it, a big reason I haven't been writing in here is the subject of this entry: laziness. I am probably not going to spend a lot of time developing the thoughts behind this bit of writing because I'm worried that if I do I will overthink and ultimately not write it. And since this is the most effort I've made in writing on here for quite a while, I want to go with it and get it out there rather than let it die.
Recently, during indoctrination training onboard the carrier I'm assigned to, it was suggested that in one way or another, all of us joined the Navy because we are running from something. Perhaps we're running from bills, drugs, a dead-end job, a bad neighborhood... After I considered this for a second or two, it occurred to me that perhaps this person was making a good point. Maybe it is not true of everyone in the Navy, but at least I could say honestly that I joined the Navy because I was running from many things. Among these things is one of the five hindrances to buddhist practice: torpor, or laziness.
I want to digress for a second and say that I dislike calling this quality "sloth". The sloth is a noble creature. It lives a wonderful life, and I feel that to shame such an awesome animal by associating its name with a negative characteristic (in fact one of the seven deadly sins in Catholic teaching) is to say God erred when he created that marvelous thing. Back to my entry.
When I decided to join the Navy, I was almost 27 years old. I had been living in Los Angeles for just over four years. Now a lot of people, and I was one, would say that making it past even one year in that city is a big deal. But the more I thought about it, the less I felt like I had accomplished anything just by BEING there. After all, my parents had subsidized my gas and food and car insurance (and I was driving a car they purchased... and which they took back at some point leaving me to get around exclusively using public transportation) for most of those four years. I was living paycheck to paycheck. I nearly got kicked out of my apartment at some point by my roommates for being late in paying the rent. I was miserable, and I wanted to change my situation, but I felt trapped. I felt like I was spinning my wheels and going nowhere, so I didn't put forth a lot of effort towards acting or comedy... and I therefore perpetuated a self-fulfilling prophecy of going nowhere. I was lazy. I smoked a lot of pot instead of working hard after finishing my shift at Starbucks to realize the dream that had brought me out there in the first place. One night after my enlistment paperwork was signed, while a coworker and I were closing up the store, I actually blurted out, "I think I joined the Navy because I needed an excuse to quit smoking pot."
I had considered a few alternatives. I could move somewhere cheaper and work at a different Starbucks until my debts were paid off and then just go live at Tassajara. I could apply for scholarships for grad school. I could re-double my efforts in acting and comedy and work to justify my existence out in the City of Angels. But these didn't motivate me in the same way that joining the Navy did. To my mind at that time, the Navy represented the opposite of everything I was doing wrong. I felt like I was being selfish to try making money in popular media. I felt like it would be a scam to go directly into monastic life and monk training. I felt like I wasn't contributing. I felt like nothing I did mattered. And most of all, I was tired of feeling so fucking lazy. So, I felt like I could join the Navy and solve all of that. I felt like I could get away from those feelings if I was a United States Sailor.
It's funny how the mind will play the same tricks on itself over and over again. It had barely been a month after I finished my summer at Tassajara -- where I clearly learned that I can never run from any of my problems since I am always the root cause of them -- before I was trying to run again. But that's no matter. Really, as I explained in my first couple entries, there were many reasons that inspired me to join. For now, though, I'll finish exploring the silliest of them.
I haven't been completely wrong. I am doing more, earning more money, than I was back in Los Angeles. I am constantly accelerating... no more a victim of stagnant inertia. And, of course, I don't smoke pot these days. But now, it seems, I see more laziness in and around me than ever before. And now, too, I have another hindrance to battle: ill will. I see some garbage laying around the classroom or the head, and the laziness of the people who left it there infuriates me. I hear someone talking about the studying they are doing, or see two guys going off to the gym, and I fume inwardly that I am heading to bed instead of doing those things, too.
These days, laziness is a special trigger for me. I often feel torpor is humankind's worst sin. It is the biggest hindrance to us all. We could soar like angels, but we are too lazy to use our wings. Giving up our prejudices takes too much work. Putting aside our comfort for the greater good is counter-intuitive to our species. I am no exception. And so it goes. Ironically, to stop running and face the aspects of myself and others that I would rather not with radical acceptance rather than disdain is too great a task for me right now. Or at least that's how it feels. But as my teacher Greg says, perseverance is the way to practice with this. I'll try.
Recently, during indoctrination training onboard the carrier I'm assigned to, it was suggested that in one way or another, all of us joined the Navy because we are running from something. Perhaps we're running from bills, drugs, a dead-end job, a bad neighborhood... After I considered this for a second or two, it occurred to me that perhaps this person was making a good point. Maybe it is not true of everyone in the Navy, but at least I could say honestly that I joined the Navy because I was running from many things. Among these things is one of the five hindrances to buddhist practice: torpor, or laziness.
I want to digress for a second and say that I dislike calling this quality "sloth". The sloth is a noble creature. It lives a wonderful life, and I feel that to shame such an awesome animal by associating its name with a negative characteristic (in fact one of the seven deadly sins in Catholic teaching) is to say God erred when he created that marvelous thing. Back to my entry.
When I decided to join the Navy, I was almost 27 years old. I had been living in Los Angeles for just over four years. Now a lot of people, and I was one, would say that making it past even one year in that city is a big deal. But the more I thought about it, the less I felt like I had accomplished anything just by BEING there. After all, my parents had subsidized my gas and food and car insurance (and I was driving a car they purchased... and which they took back at some point leaving me to get around exclusively using public transportation) for most of those four years. I was living paycheck to paycheck. I nearly got kicked out of my apartment at some point by my roommates for being late in paying the rent. I was miserable, and I wanted to change my situation, but I felt trapped. I felt like I was spinning my wheels and going nowhere, so I didn't put forth a lot of effort towards acting or comedy... and I therefore perpetuated a self-fulfilling prophecy of going nowhere. I was lazy. I smoked a lot of pot instead of working hard after finishing my shift at Starbucks to realize the dream that had brought me out there in the first place. One night after my enlistment paperwork was signed, while a coworker and I were closing up the store, I actually blurted out, "I think I joined the Navy because I needed an excuse to quit smoking pot."
I had considered a few alternatives. I could move somewhere cheaper and work at a different Starbucks until my debts were paid off and then just go live at Tassajara. I could apply for scholarships for grad school. I could re-double my efforts in acting and comedy and work to justify my existence out in the City of Angels. But these didn't motivate me in the same way that joining the Navy did. To my mind at that time, the Navy represented the opposite of everything I was doing wrong. I felt like I was being selfish to try making money in popular media. I felt like it would be a scam to go directly into monastic life and monk training. I felt like I wasn't contributing. I felt like nothing I did mattered. And most of all, I was tired of feeling so fucking lazy. So, I felt like I could join the Navy and solve all of that. I felt like I could get away from those feelings if I was a United States Sailor.
It's funny how the mind will play the same tricks on itself over and over again. It had barely been a month after I finished my summer at Tassajara -- where I clearly learned that I can never run from any of my problems since I am always the root cause of them -- before I was trying to run again. But that's no matter. Really, as I explained in my first couple entries, there were many reasons that inspired me to join. For now, though, I'll finish exploring the silliest of them.
I haven't been completely wrong. I am doing more, earning more money, than I was back in Los Angeles. I am constantly accelerating... no more a victim of stagnant inertia. And, of course, I don't smoke pot these days. But now, it seems, I see more laziness in and around me than ever before. And now, too, I have another hindrance to battle: ill will. I see some garbage laying around the classroom or the head, and the laziness of the people who left it there infuriates me. I hear someone talking about the studying they are doing, or see two guys going off to the gym, and I fume inwardly that I am heading to bed instead of doing those things, too.
These days, laziness is a special trigger for me. I often feel torpor is humankind's worst sin. It is the biggest hindrance to us all. We could soar like angels, but we are too lazy to use our wings. Giving up our prejudices takes too much work. Putting aside our comfort for the greater good is counter-intuitive to our species. I am no exception. And so it goes. Ironically, to stop running and face the aspects of myself and others that I would rather not with radical acceptance rather than disdain is too great a task for me right now. Or at least that's how it feels. But as my teacher Greg says, perseverance is the way to practice with this. I'll try.
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