So I don't know if this is a thing all throughout the Navy or just concentrated in the nuke community (or perhaps it is known far and wide, and I am only just now hearing about it), but a phrase that keeps popping up in conversations with instructors and students is "Conservation of Happiness." It is a reference to the conservation of energy (energy can neither be created nor destroyed, merely altered in form -- also known as the first law of thermodynamics) except this version states that happiness can neither be created nor destroyed, merely transferred from one person to another. Basically, if I want to be more happy I have to make YOU less happy, thus taking some of your happiness. Now of course I know this is not true. From my experiences, I can say with certainty that a person can become happy or unhappy without affecting others either way. What's more, I feel sure that few (if any) people I have encountered who would invoke this pseudo-principle sincerely believe that it is true.
This idea gets brought up a lot, though. And even if nobody who brings it up believes that it is true, it has a strange sort of reality which has real effects. For starters, it does astutely describe a phenomenon which seems to be deeply embedded in the culture I am now a part of. I witness a troubling amount of spite and bullying. I want to take a moment and clarify that I am not talking about bullying in the sense of malicious, ongoing torture. This is more like aggressive ribbing, comprised of short encounters where one person will put down another person in order to feel better. I also hear about such instances anecdotally, like "when I made that guy cry I got sooo happy." I was bemoaning the unkind nature of my classmates to someone who has been to sea, and he told me that I should grow a thicker skin because it is even worse on the ships. One story I heard which perfectly illustrates this warning involved one sad crew member who was talking about wanting to cut himself. His crewmates' response was to find all the knives they could and stash them in the sad crew member's rack.
Even if the wording which describes this phenomenon is unique to the Navy, I realize that putting others down to feel better is nothing new. But most people grow out of it by the end of high school. So far in the Navy, though, it seems like this systematic schadenfreude is not only tolerated but encouraged. Why might this be? I cannot know for sure, but I have a few thoughts I'd like to share. For starters, the whole military resembles one giant frat. Back in college, this was a culture that I had a strange love-hate relationship with. On the one hand, pack mentality, group-think, cult of personality bullshit repulses me on so many levels. To suppress creativity and novelty in favor of primitive ideals which appeal to the lowest common denominator stymies progress, and all the frat activities I witnessed around the U of A campus seemed to be demonstrative of this kind of retardation. On the other hand, though, I did not like feeling like an outsider. I longed to bond with fellow males on that intensely basic level of understanding which seemed to come naturally to that crowd. After all, fraternité means brotherhood in French. So now, in the Navy, I am learning a thing or two about male bonding on a basic level. Case in point, another comment from a sea-returnee was something to the effect of "It's when people stop messing with you that you should worry."
I am still puzzled by this. All my buddhist training on kind speech seems to be non-applicable. I mean sure, there are exchanges of good-natured barbs, but that's not what I'm talking about. To really improve one's mood in keeping with this "principle," one must genuinely hurt someone else. And people do derive some form of pleasure from upsetting others, particularly subordinates. Maybe that's one reason for this behavior: by using one's position of authority to hurt those beneath them, even in ways with no lasting ramifications, one reenforces their place in the pecking order. But upon even further analysis -- and this is what makes this issue really fucking crazy to me -- it is apparent that the person who is trying to take the happiness from the other person doesn't actually want or need the other person to be unhappy for very long. What they want is a temporary transference of happiness and then subsequently a recovery and resurgence of their victim. Because we all are, in fact, on the same team. We need to know the people we are working with are strong, emotionally, because in a crisis situation our own lives depend on the strength of our crewmembers.
So apparently this behavior kills two birds with one stone -- improving the mood of one person by practicing mild sadism and/or underscoring their authority (if a power dynamic is at work) while simultaneously testing the emotional fortitude of their teammates, perhaps building it up in the process. I submit that it is possible to improve one's mood and increase people's emotional stability without resorting to behavior rife with potential for negativity. But such alternatives must necessarily encourage empathy, and in a culture devoted to the vanquishing of one's enemies, empathy can be a dangerous luxury. Now I posit, based on my experience and understanding, that even empathy towards one's enemies can be possible without undoing the goals of a military. But perhaps my understanding is flawed. Perhaps I am coasting on an ignorance masquerading as understanding, and I am really all fucked up. But anyways, I will keep inquiring into this and other issues that arise and try not to settle too comfortably into an answer or explanation.
I kind of lost any sense of thesis in this entry. This sort of thing defies understanding. There is a continuum of messing with people. It runs the gamut from ribbing for the sake of camaraderie to malicious, sadistic sociopathic bullying. I think mostly, the discussion I attempted can only serve to scrutinize my own motives. Any more than that is beyond the scope of buddhist examination.
Sunday, April 27, 2014
Wednesday, April 9, 2014
Tassajara Journal Review 1
I have wanted to write something in here for a while, but I have been both bothered by too many ideas and bothered by too little motivation for any one of them. So to appease my longing to contribute to this project and to express something that is going on for me right now, I am posting a journal entry from my time at Tassajara.
At times, I feel like the mouse in this next story. And what I symbolize in the story, the ogre, the oaf... Well that could be a number of things. No need to name them. Anyways, here it is:
Monday, June 13 -- Day 65 (10:30 pm)
Just now, in the bathroom, a large mouse or smallish rat was surprised by my arrival [in the lower barn bathroom] and had no way to escape. So what he did is find the corner farthest from me and make himself as small as possible. When I went closer to get a good look at him, he dashed past me to a different corner (inset of sorts, on the step up to the stalls) and hid behind the broom/dustpan. I was able to sit on the step and see him closer, but as I reached to tap his tail he made a break for it across the room and this time behind the container for hair clippers. Again, I went closer. I kept this up for a little bit; partly to see this creature closer, but also partly to observe his method of self-preservation...and...it wasn't much, really. I mean, without an escape all he could do was put some object between us or just bury his face in a corner and hope that I would leave. If I got too close for comfort, he would make a break for it. Watching him at one point, cowering, whiskers aquiver, I realized, "he's more scared of me than I am irritated by him." Then I brushed my teeth. While brushing, I went up to him in a new spot behind the plastic bin the toilet plunger is kept in and pinned him against the wall with said bin so I could give him a tiny stroke on the back in a last attempt at comprehension, on my part, of the reality of this creature, and communication of peace as well, no matter how unlikely it was that it would be understood. Then I thoroughly washed my hands (who knows what diseases it might by carrying in his fur?) and finished brushing my teeth.
At times, I feel like the mouse in this next story. And what I symbolize in the story, the ogre, the oaf... Well that could be a number of things. No need to name them. Anyways, here it is:
Monday, June 13 -- Day 65 (10:30 pm)
Just now, in the bathroom, a large mouse or smallish rat was surprised by my arrival [in the lower barn bathroom] and had no way to escape. So what he did is find the corner farthest from me and make himself as small as possible. When I went closer to get a good look at him, he dashed past me to a different corner (inset of sorts, on the step up to the stalls) and hid behind the broom/dustpan. I was able to sit on the step and see him closer, but as I reached to tap his tail he made a break for it across the room and this time behind the container for hair clippers. Again, I went closer. I kept this up for a little bit; partly to see this creature closer, but also partly to observe his method of self-preservation...and...it wasn't much, really. I mean, without an escape all he could do was put some object between us or just bury his face in a corner and hope that I would leave. If I got too close for comfort, he would make a break for it. Watching him at one point, cowering, whiskers aquiver, I realized, "he's more scared of me than I am irritated by him." Then I brushed my teeth. While brushing, I went up to him in a new spot behind the plastic bin the toilet plunger is kept in and pinned him against the wall with said bin so I could give him a tiny stroke on the back in a last attempt at comprehension, on my part, of the reality of this creature, and communication of peace as well, no matter how unlikely it was that it would be understood. Then I thoroughly washed my hands (who knows what diseases it might by carrying in his fur?) and finished brushing my teeth.
Tuesday, February 4, 2014
Guilt
I've heard it said that Catholics and Jews tend to be more guilty than most. I don't know why, but that's the accepted stereotype. Well, I was raised Catholic. And whether or not that has anything to do with anything, I am noticing a lot of guilt lately surrounding my buddhist practice. Guilt is a useless emotion if it isn't serving to motivate improvement. For example, when I feel guilty about not practicing the guitar I paid $200 for (or when I feel guilty for paying $200 for something I don't practice), when I feel guilty for not working out or exercising when I have plenty of free time, these are opportunities to act differently, to do the things I have objectively deemed worthy of my time instead of being idle. I feel like the best scenario would involve doing these things without the guilty feelings serving as motivation. But the guilt is there, largely because I don't do these things way more than I do, and so I usually just end up feeling guilty. This brings up the question of whether I actually WANT to do these things, or if there is something else going on -- some neuro-peptide addiction which is gratified by guilty feelings, perhaps. It's difficult to say. But if I'm feeling guilty and NOT taking action to fix whatever I am feeling guilty about, then the guilt just ends up being somewhat masturbatory -- I get to continue being shitty but still feel kind of good for being tortured over my shittiness.
Often, though, I feel guilty about stuff that is much more subtle and nuanced than simply going to the gym vs sitting around in my room. Sometimes I feel guilt over something no rational person would feel I should have to change, like not returning the feelings of someone, for example. I have noticed I will feel guilty BOTH for giving a homeless person money and for holding back from giving a homeless person money. I feel guilty when my practice doesn't resemble that of people I look up to. That last one is really a bit silly; I mean isn't it the point of "looking up to" someone to emulate the qualities in someone more developed which one hopes to cultivate in themselves? So while it's good to feel motivated, there's no reason to feel guilty about not being a particular way NOW. I struggle immensely with this.
I still get angry, upset, or otherwise worked up -- quite often, actually. I feel guilty when I get like this. One reason is that I feel like I am misrepresenting buddhism, zen specifically. I (perhaps erroneously) feel like meditation practice should help a person be calmer, more collected. I mean, it probably does... A common fear for me (which I touched on in an earlier blog entry) is that meditation really only helps keep me at mostly-normal levels of irritation -- that without it I would be a raging psychopath or something. That's most likely not true. What IS true, maybe, is that I was more angry or prone to getting worked up before I started zen practice, that I am less so now, and that in the future these traits will be even smaller. I do need to keep reminding myself that the fruits of practice (as Darlene Cohen mentioned) are best measured in degree rather than in order of magnitude (that phrasing was co-opted from an NPR article I can't now recall). It takes more than four years to turn an intense young man into a sage, cool cucumber. In the mean time, I will persevere in noticing my failings, feeling guilty about them (if it's a failing I can rectify, like judging people or being unkind, or clinging to a small sense of self) and using that as motivation to work continually TOWARDS the idea of buddhism. If I notice masturbatory guilt, I will try to let it go. And if I can't, well at least I will do my best not to feel guilty about it.
Often, though, I feel guilty about stuff that is much more subtle and nuanced than simply going to the gym vs sitting around in my room. Sometimes I feel guilt over something no rational person would feel I should have to change, like not returning the feelings of someone, for example. I have noticed I will feel guilty BOTH for giving a homeless person money and for holding back from giving a homeless person money. I feel guilty when my practice doesn't resemble that of people I look up to. That last one is really a bit silly; I mean isn't it the point of "looking up to" someone to emulate the qualities in someone more developed which one hopes to cultivate in themselves? So while it's good to feel motivated, there's no reason to feel guilty about not being a particular way NOW. I struggle immensely with this.
I still get angry, upset, or otherwise worked up -- quite often, actually. I feel guilty when I get like this. One reason is that I feel like I am misrepresenting buddhism, zen specifically. I (perhaps erroneously) feel like meditation practice should help a person be calmer, more collected. I mean, it probably does... A common fear for me (which I touched on in an earlier blog entry) is that meditation really only helps keep me at mostly-normal levels of irritation -- that without it I would be a raging psychopath or something. That's most likely not true. What IS true, maybe, is that I was more angry or prone to getting worked up before I started zen practice, that I am less so now, and that in the future these traits will be even smaller. I do need to keep reminding myself that the fruits of practice (as Darlene Cohen mentioned) are best measured in degree rather than in order of magnitude (that phrasing was co-opted from an NPR article I can't now recall). It takes more than four years to turn an intense young man into a sage, cool cucumber. In the mean time, I will persevere in noticing my failings, feeling guilty about them (if it's a failing I can rectify, like judging people or being unkind, or clinging to a small sense of self) and using that as motivation to work continually TOWARDS the idea of buddhism. If I notice masturbatory guilt, I will try to let it go. And if I can't, well at least I will do my best not to feel guilty about it.
Wednesday, October 23, 2013
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.
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.
Sunday, September 22, 2013
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.
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.
Sunday, August 4, 2013
"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.
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.
Wednesday, June 26, 2013
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.
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)