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  But no matter how nice I tried to be the rest of lab, I could feel the other person had withdrawn behind a wall, and there was nothing I could do to make the tension go away.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.

Shooting Guns

     So last weekend I went to a gun shop and shooting range to do the qualification shooting course on a pistol and an assault rifle for the navy.  It was not required -- I elected to do it... mostly so I could get a couple more ribbons.  The only ribbon that I have (given to every active duty sailor during the war on terror) was getting lonely.
     I have a lot of mixed feelings about gun laws in this country, but to sum them up I will just say that although I oppose the absurd accessibility to weapons which have no redeeming value for use in hunting (and am embarrassed that we purport to be the leaders of the civilised world regardless of that), I think that the already-existing proliferation of said weapons is best met with legal venues for non-criminals to obtain them as well.  But this post is not meant to discuss gun laws.
     My first impression of the people working at the gun shop and the customers was that they must have been made to feel very small and weak as children growing up.  How else to explain the way they crave security through mastery of lethal technology?  I feel like gun culture basically comes down to reverence for things of power by people who would otherwise feel powerless.  It seems really unnatural.  And for the record, I'm not talking about hunting rifles.  I'm talking about people who geek out over pistols, assault rifles and the like, priding themselves on knowledge that would really only ever be useful in the unlikely scenario that a violent burglar and/or murderer should break in to their home WHILE they were home and had easy access to one of their pieces... and also didn't lose composure in the heat of the moment.
     But then I got thinking about the culture I DO identify with... progressives, buddhists, lovers of science... people who revere an ideal for humanity that in all likelihood will never manifest in more than isolated pockets.  I am proud to be one of these well-meaning individuals who are only trying to make the world a better place, even in a small way, by proliferating wisdom and compassion.  And I got to thinking: why be an apologist for my tribe and not the gun nuts?
     When I considered the people in the shop beyond my initial, knee-jerk reaction, I could see more: that they were well-meaning individuals trying to make the world a safer place, even in a small way, by proliferating gun knowledge and responsible gun utility (the guns ARE already out there, after all).  And to be fair, I've gotten some harsh, knee-jerk impressions of the types of folks who usually get into buddhism and other eastern spirituality (brainy, conflict-averse cat people who want a monumental justification for their natural tendencies and feelings of being special from having grown up unpopular... or maybe that's just me).  But as with gun culture, there is more to this stuff than might first meet the eye (in my case a rather cynical eye).
     The bodhisattva Jizo made a vow: not to attain enlightenment until all the hells are totally empty.  This has been an inspiration for me in trying to expose folks in the navy to buddhism by practicing buddhism and joining the navy.  Realistically, it would probably be just as hard to get a right-wing gun nut to take up meditation as it would be to get a bleeding-heart liberal to take up gun advocacy.  But does that mean it's a waste of time?  Absolutely not.  I recall a quote from Siddhartha Gautama which advises that once we find a path to be good and true and worthwhile, that we follow it wholeheartedly.  That is what I mean to do.  My religion can be boiled down to living a worthwhile life.

     And after all, reality seldom conforms to the broad strokes our minds (my mind) paint... so there are no such things as gun nuts and buddhists, and still we can manifest dharma together.  I will practice my marksmanship in the hope that I never have to use it.  Maybe one of those folks in the shop will think twice before buying another gun.

What am I DOING?

     I accidentally hit the caps lock key when typing the title... but upon review, it seemed wholly appropriate.

     I read this on my facebook news feed, posted by Sweeping Zen:

"Teachers who think they are actually teachers teaching something are to be avoided. Good teachers are people who are themselves simply working on their own practice and are willing to share their lives as best they can with others. In this sense the 'best' teachers are often the worst teachers; the more brilliant the teacher, the more exciting, the more enlightened, the worse it is for the student. The student ends up lusting after time with the teacher, hanging on her every word, and forgetting that this is about him or her, the student, not the teacher." - Zoketsu Norman Fischer

     I think what caused a tightening sensation in my abdomen upon reading this was guilt... I must confess I have approached this blog and conversations with others, and even my intent to ordain and train in buddhist ministry (and maybe even in adopting the view that there can be such a thing as buddhist ministry) with a hope to teach someone something about buddhism.  In my defense, this is not an approach I have taken all the time.  But I have taken it sometimes.*

     I have two posts in draft status right now.  For both of them, what is holding me up from working on and finishing them (apart from a schedule at nuke "a" school which leaves little personal free time) is a desire to find and perfectly express some important point about life, buddhism, practice, whatever.

     Maybe it would be better if I return to my original intention, to use this blog merely as an extension of a practice of examining what is going on with my mind, rather than trying to express some truth I mistakenly think I have discovered in an effort to bring other people to zen practice.*

     Last thought: don't bhikkus mostly want to be left alone to do their own practice?  Hopefully my next two posts will be faithful reports of the goings-on of my mind and nothing more... Any epiphanies revealed therein are wholly the product of the mind of the reader and I take no credit whatsoever.

*After reading these sentiments to myself, I do realize how absurd they are considering I only started zen practice two and a half years ago.  How grotesque!

Why the Navy (take 2)

     My teacher was right; being a warrior is not buddhist.

     At first, hearing this set my mind a-whirl trying to justify how being in the military COULD be considered buddhist.  For example, the Navy's slogan is "A Global Force For Good."  In many ways, the navy accomplishes positive ends: defending citizens from violence, protecting trade routes, aiding victims of natural disasters, etc.  Also, the "war on terror" seems, in many ways, justified; the Taliban, Al Qaeda etc. are enemies not only of America but also of many peoples throughout the world whose only crimes are disagreeing with their ideology.  But ask the innocent victims of America's military engagements (and, as I have heard, they are numerous) whether we are doing the right thing... I am not sure they would be so supportive.  How many innocent civilians were killed in the efforts to oust Hitler and his allies?  But I digress.  Ultimately it did occur to me that if one vows to live for the benefit of all beings, it simply will not do to live only for the benefit of one's countrymen at the expense of one's enemies.  Being a warrior entails making politically-based distinction between who one will and will not benefit.
     Where does this leave me?  Is it a lie to continue to identify myself as "buddhist" while I serve in my country's armed forces?  I don't think that is so, either.  Where, then, is the middle way in carving out such precipitous practice...
     Perhaps it is in bringing compassion to the work that I do.  No matter what I do for a living, I can find dharma gates to enter; I can find ways to practice compassion and mindfulness.
     Perhaps it is in practicing non-judgment -- of my practice most of all.
     One of my favorite quotes from Suzuki-roshi that I read in Crooked Cucumber is from a discussion he had with his future wife who had asked him to summarize buddhism in one sentence.  He responded, "Buddhism is accepting what is, as it is, and helping it to be the best it can be."  Perhaps there lies the middle way for me: accepting the military for what it is and helping to make it better through my efforts.
     The bodhisattva, as I understand it, is one who puts off enlightenment until all beings have attained enlightenment.  So if my time in the navy is not "right livlihood," this is okay as long as I nudge someone, anyone at all, towards their own path of awakening.
     My teacher told me he didn't think I had it in me, to go into the military, to be a positive influence on whomever I encounter. Whether or not he meant this honestly and/or as disuasion from attempting this path, I felt, "well I won't put another head on top of my own!" and took it as a challenge.  And I intend to rise to this challenge.
     Even if I cannot help a single other person in living more mindfully or whatever, though, I still feel that walking this path can be beneficial.  In offering this experience to my practice, offering my practice to others who are not in the military, I am hopeful that I and anyone else I might come across may in some way benefit... even if I don't know how.
     In the first post addressing this topic, I focused on the issue of taking life and the futility of making distinctions between oneself, doing the right thing by not participating (though maybe helping in some way regardless), and another who actually pulls the trigger.  In this attempt to address some of the loose ends that left me feeling unsatisfied with my first post, I focused more on the issue of being of benefit to sentient beings.
     I still feel unsatisfied.  I feel like I could write a post a week on this topic and never be satisfied.  Really, this issue will be my koan for the entirety of my time in the navy... perhaps longer.  So far it's been a really effective "grindstone."  I just have to keep polishing...

     As a last thought, I want to say only that I think this blog might be a mistake.  It's not well-written and I only have about two and a half years of zen practice under my belt -- so I'm basically talking out of my ass about all the "facts" regarding buddhism, enlightenment, bodhisattvas, whatever.  So be warned.  I am doing this as a way to practice writing. 

Thoughts from Temporary Holding (Lessons Learned?)

     So after I graduated from boot camp, I had to spend two and a half more weeks on the base where they conduct boot camp in the Temporary Holding Unit.  We live in a barracks like the recruits do and eat at the galleys that recruits do, but we have many freedoms (like cell phones and liberty) which recruits do not have.  Ironically, though, I sometimes felt (and heard others express that they felt) that I/we would rather just still be in boot camp.  I was never completely serious, but it was still kinda funny (and honest).  I think the sentiment grew from the frustration at being treated less than we felt we should be.  This was a major observation I made again and again while I was in THU; comparing mind is a dependable source of suffering.  One example was already touched on: we would joke that at least in boot camp we got more PT (physical training... of course we also had a fitness room at our disposal 6 hours out of every day, but a bitchy sailor is a happy sailor).  Also, boot camp was more straightforward; in THU we were referred to on multiple occasions by several Petty Officers and Chiefs as "sailors in recruit status" as a way to describe the strange limbo we were in.  That brings me to the next example: in THU we had to jump through hoops to "earn" less priviliges than our counterparts who went directly to A-school were given straight away.  When we considered how few freedoms we had compared to how many our A-school buddies had (and how much more tedium we dealt with), we suffered.  And in my case, I suffered a lot -- often for long periods of time!  Usually it was helpful to consider that really, I didn't have it that bad: three meals a day, sufficient clothing and shelter, a large amount of free time...
     It often feels like that is the majority of zen practice -- re-framing our thoughts.  Yeah, I know.  Zen is about having no thoughts.  Or something like that.  So far, though, my experience has usually played out as follows: I notice that I am suffering.  I trace the root to some thoughts I am holding on to.  I pry my mind off these thoughts by using different thoughts... I substitute one "story" for another.  And unless I was mistaken, I'm pretty sure that was actually some advice from a venerable monk or two while I was at Tassajara.  Buddhism is a "story," but it is a very helpful story. (paraphrase)  For instance, we spent a lot of time in THU cleaning the ship: sweeping, mopping, wiping.  At Tassajara, we clean a lot too (except at zen monasteries it's called soji or samu, depending on if it's in the morning after service or some other time).  But when I was sweeping at Tassajara, I was thinking something like, "Look at me... being a real zen student... Oops I'm thinking! Let me use the activity of sweeping to practice no-mind... I wonder what's for lunch."  At THU (until I noticed this and reevaluated my thought process), I was thinking something like, "FUCK! I graduated boot camp! I should be at A-school learning my job, not cleaning the same shit over and over again!  How many times can I sweep the same ladderwell?!  I just KNOW Chief is gonna keep us like two hours after muster... There goes my liberty time!!"  I mean... I was doing the same thing generally speaking, what was really so different?  Oh yeah. My mind. 
     There are actually a lot of similarities between life in a monastery and life in the military.  At Tassajara, there is work meeting every morning.  In THU we muster and give out cleaning assignments.  Ceremony is very important to both communities:  zen centers ring the densho, strike the han... monks bow when entering the zendo, bow to each other.  Sailors salute the flag when the national anthom plays, "respectfully request to come aboard" a ship, salute officers... details perform the flag raising/lowering and other ceremonies.  In both communities there is a great deal of attention to detail.  Both recognize a greater meaning behind the garments they wear.  And in both communities, the day begins very early. :-)  Of course there are a lot of differences, too... How strange would it be if a teacher came up behind a student in a zendo, scolding, "Hey guy! Your meditation posture looks like shit!! Why don't you un-fuck yourself before I stick my kyosaku up your ass?!"  I think it would be more likely that the navy adopts non-violent communication across the board.  Though I don't imagine talk of destroying enemies will go away anytime soon.
    
     The last thought I had about Temporary Holding Unity is that (like everything else) it is/was temporary.  Whatever someone makes of it, it is not indefinite.  It may last a day, a few weeks, many months...  but it will not last forever.  It will pass.