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Month: November 2016

And Now an Interruption in Our Regularly Scheduled Programming — My New York Rebirth

And Now an Interruption in Our Regularly Scheduled Programming — My New York Rebirth

My Dear Readers, I am going to beg your pardon today and take a break from our regularly scheduled program (a loose chronology of highlights of my dharma practice) in order to write something from the present day. I am in the process of moving, SF to NY, and to be honest, the faithful adherence to an ordered blog is a bit challenging when my stuff, dharma notebook, life and thoughts are all disorderly, strewn about, buried in boxes and so forth. So, at least till the dust settles a bit, you are going to get a preview of whats to come in this blog, i.e. thoughts from the blog’s distant future, my present life.

I have been thinking that moving is a lot like starting a new life, a rebirth. There was a cause to the move, my desire for a better life, to escape things I don’t like and seek out ones I do (in particular, my husband’s old job, which was a huge burden for us both). There was imagination of what it would be like, better, not worse, of course. There is effort, and money, spent to bring the move to fruition. There is the need to rebuild, re-establish my life, my stuff, my sense of self in these new circumstance.

And let me tell you something my friends, this move has been hard. Horribly, terribly hard. Perhaps the details will come in another blog, but suffice it to say, the stress, the effort, the planning, the disappointments have been enormous (ok, one detail, I messed-up a tooth from jaw clenching in my sleep because the noise of honking and sirens and yelling through the night  is so stressful). Before, when I imagined all the glitz of a NY life, I didn’t see the dirt, the noise, the crowding, cold, nature-free city I have found myself in. I couldn’t have imagined the work it would take just to move, the struggle to live here, the sense of loss I feel from my old life, and the people in it.

The problem though is I’ll forget. I know I’ll forget, because when I first moved to SF I hated it too. It took time, but I “fell in love” and the horror show it took to build my life there became a distant memory. Sure I know I felt bad at the time, I remember, sort of, but it was worth it right? For the life I eventually built and loved (and then had to leave so quickly…), worth it I’m sure, well sort of, right? For the place that gave me the standards, the ‘norms’ to which I compare my new city and find it so very disappointing (and grey and cold and ungreen and unclean and uneco and unfoodie and unorganic and un friggin NorCal). Worth it…in hind-site, in the haze of amnesia and getting used to things and adjusting and re-imagining that keeps me tied in Samsara (cycle of rebirth). Pain when its raw is so motivational, we all want escape, but as it dulls, as the scar forms, we find a way to move on.

Here in NY the forgetting has already begun. I already find myself adjusting. Finding the noise fades to the background, the dirt becoming less noticeable. Its all better then it was before (my jaw has un-clenched) so it must be all good, right?  My expectations, my imagination, adjusting. I get used to it. Familiarity I have come to realize is my nemesis. It makes me forget the pain, it numbs me to the discomfort in the world. It also, as a double F-you, makes the pleasurable less delightful. My first ice cream after being a vegan was the most delicious thing ever, but over time I got used to ice cream again and its just not  the heaven-in-my-mouth it was when it was new, unfamiliar.

I however, I don’t want to forget. I don’t want to gloss over my suffering. Its real and it sucks. What it takes to prepare for a new life, to set it all-up just so, to adjust myself, my hopes and dreams its so so hard. And then to tell a story later on that it was all my idea, all under my control, all good in the end, that it was actually fun, built my character, its not true.  I don’t want to keep being pushed into a new circumstance by my imagination of what it will be only to be shocked, disappointed and then lulled into complacency as I adjust. I don’t want endless rebirths, thinking each one will be different than the last, that it will be easier, that the trade offs are in my control, that its worth it.

And for all of this, as far from my fantasy as the city has proven to be, did I get what I wanted, a better life? In some ways — my husband’s job, for now at least, seems better and less stressful. But better capital B? How could it be? There are always 2 sides. There are always trade-offs. I imagined only one side (wrong view), knew there would be trade-offs but thought I could hedge, I could control which they were, that things would be on my terms. I was wrong and I feel the sting of it, and the dull ache of an angry tooth…

 

 

 

 

 

 

What Kind of A****** Throws a Sponge on the Ground in this Beautiful Unspoiled Forest

What Kind of A****** Throws a Sponge on the Ground in this Beautiful Unspoiled Forest

It was the 2013 KPY retreat and LP Nut was leading some students through the forest on a hike/contemplation exercise.  Suddenly we came to a nice open patch, just in front of a Kulti (a small hut), and there on the ground was a sponge. The piece of trash was such a stark contrast to the beautiful pristine forest and immediately, in my mind, I hear my most  judgy voice saying, “What kind of an A****** would throw a sponge on the ground  in this beautiful unspoiled forest.”  Then I looked-up at the little hut in front of me and thought, if I had hiked all the way out here to clean this hut, and found I had forgotten my sponge, I would have thought,”what kind of an angel left me a sponge and spared me the hike all the way back-up to the main building to get one.“

In that moment I finally understood one of the most critical truths of my life: I am the judge, I am the one that sets conditions and defines the terms under which I will be satisfied with any particular person, thing or situation. And my terms, my judgements, they change, largely based on me, on what I want. The idea that there is some universal truth, some great moral compass, that underlies and dictates my judgements is a lie. It’s just me, that voice in my head,calling out A******* or Angel based on my interpretations and needs.

LP Anan had once given such a great example of setting conditions, but I really hadn’t understood it fully till this moment in the woods. He said, it was like being outside on a hot day and wanting an ice cold glass of water, but not wanting any wet condensation on the outside of the glass. But this is impossible, condensation is a result of outside heat meeting with the ice water on the inside of the glass. Still we set these conditions, I only want X and Y is totally unacceptable, or  I want X but only if Y, or I want X when its sunny and Y when it rains. We dictate the terms under which something is acceptable, desirable, and then we pretend they are real, fixed and that the world will simply abide by them.

I started seeing all the places in my life I set conditions: I want my husband to cook for me when I’m hungry, but when I’m not I wish he  wouldn’t so I didn’t need to eat it to be polite (I also wish he could just read my mind and know what I want to eat–what kind of man did I marry that lacks even the simplest mind reading abilities?). I want to chat with my co-workers and waste a little time, except when I’m busy and I wish they would just leave me alone. I want to live in a big city with lots to do, if only there weren’t so many people. I’m happy when it’s warm outside, somewhere between 75 and 85 degrees….

It was a little later in my practice that I really began to see that in setting these conditions I create not only the terms of my satisfaction, but, by definition I also set the terms of my dissatisfaction. In so doing, I am the one who lays the groundwork for my own suffering. I also came to see that the conditions I set were based on 2  deeply wrong views: 1) that I could control circumstances/events  in order to get the outcome that met my conditions or 2) that the world would operate as I expected it to (expectations built off of my prior experiences) so the conditions I set were likely to be met. But back in the early days after my forest sponge encounter the thing that I finally understood, the big pivot point for my practice, was that I play a starring role. Before, I kept thinking stuff is happening to me. I looked around the world and saw instances of impermanence, how my own views were misaligned with it, but I thought I was just getting really great seats for the show. There in the forest I started to see that my handwriting was all over the script.

Whooa Wait a Sec. It’s ME, You Mean it’s Really ME, it’s Been ME This Whole Time?!?!

Whooa Wait a Sec. It’s ME, You Mean it’s Really ME, it’s Been ME This Whole Time?!?!

This next section marks an important shift in my practice and my perspective as I began to zoom-in on the role I play in creating my own suffering. Sure, before this I had an intellectual understanding that I had wrong views, that I was the source of those views. That is, after all, the only rational explanation for all the problems I had managed to solve. Nonetheless, I sorta viewed myself as a victim in my own stories and struggles. Like suffering was something that happened to me and I was stuck cleaning-up the mess. After the first story in this next section it became increasingly clear that I am the one running around stirring my own pot, making my own messes, seeding my own suffering. Oh, and in the process, I am messing with everyone else too…poke poke goes the little ME monster.

Screw, This Dharma Thing

Screw, This Dharma Thing

Screw, This Dharma Thing

It was the 2013 KPY retreat and Mae Yo gave each of her students an everyday object and told us to go out and contemplate it. I eagerly waited in line to receive my object and when I got to the front and opened my hand, Mae Yo gave me a screw. Honestly I was none too pleased with that screw from the get go. Other folks were getting much cooler objects. The person in front of me got a clock, that’s super Dharmay, contemplating time and all, that I could have worked with, but a screw…what the heck was I going to do with a screw?

I went outside and stared at the thing..my first thoughts, screw this, I totally got screwed. It wasn’t really just my object that was upsetting me, it was the whole exercise, it was the fact that I was feeling super stuck in my practice and had been for months. The screw reminded me who was in charge (hint, not me). As much as I wanted to control my object, now I had a burden, a screw I had to safeguard, keep close, not lose. I had an obligation I didn’t want. Worse than my obligation to the screw though was my obligation to the exercise, to my teacher, to my Dharma practice. The longer I stared at the screw the more I freaked-out…the screw became a symbol for my practice, for enlightenment itself, and I was sitting there thinking, “I hate this screw, I have no idea what I’m going to do with it, but it feels like such a burden.”

First off, I did not want to be forced to give up my identity, which I had worked so hard to create. I didn’t want to lose control over my time, didn’t want to give-up the people and activities I loved. I mean really, can serious dharma practitioners/enlightened people travel, do pilates, go shopping, have relationships with husbands and family and friends?  I also didn’t want the responsibility, to the temple, to any kind of religious leadership role (I had had a lot of responsibilities with my Vajrayana community and overtime, especially as I struggled with meaning in my practice, it had become a hardship for me). As I sat there my brain was running wild with all the loss I imagined would come with the ‘burden’ of enlightenment, this sketch from my notebook pretty much summed it up:

Serious Dharma Practice (does not equal) Fun, Carefree, Enjoyable Life

Now that I look at this I laugh…because it assumes my current life is all rainbows and unicorns (which if true would make for a very short and boring blog and no reason for a Dharma practice). But back then, my thought was that it was getting dark, I could grab my car keys from my tent, slip out of the retreat tonight and no one would notice till morning. By that time I would have a solid head start (since the Dharma was after me). My follow-up thought however was a bit more rational, clearly I am suffering (i.e. freaking the hell out) perhaps I should use the method that has worked out pretty well so far and try to identify the wrong views…

  •  I began by asking myself if all this stuff I am worried about losing  was really all that awesome? Can I really keep it and where is the suffering of having it? I started with identity and looked at its components, my body, my family/friends, my hobbies, my stuff.I felt like I had worked so hard building this life, collecting these things, nurturing these relationships — how could I just walk away and leave it behind. But really, that’s the fallacy of a sunk cost, yes I have put in a ton of work, but does that really mean I should put in more?

And man did I work… For my body to stay strong, to be beautiful, I worked-out 3 X a day. I managed my diet vigilantly.  With every pound I lost I was happy but with every pound I gained I was 10X sadder. Then there was my stuff, my clothes, my furniture, all the things that let me control my image. But to afford it all my husband worked a crazy stressful and hard job. I had to watch someone I love suffer, and endure being in a relationship where I often felt like less of a priority than my husband’s job. Still these things we bought broke and faded and needed replacing. And that relationship, that was so important to me, suffered strain and decay as well. And what about all the activities I enjoyed — this blog is already full of stories about the struggles of my travels, time with friends and family, with my hobbies and my job. I knew I struggled, I knew I couldn’t exert control and keep the people and things I loved..still somehow I felt like practicing was going to ‘take’ from me things I wasn’t ready to lose.

  • I already knew I had lost lots of stuff unwillingly,  my next question was had I ever given up anything willingly, rather than having it ‘taken’, and what did that look like. I started by thinking about quitting smoking. Yes, it had been a little hard, but in the end I did it because I was afraid of the risk, tired of the damage it was doing to my body. I had quit yoga for a similar reason, I kept injuring my lower back and I was tired of going back and forth between the yoga studio and my physical therapist. I quit my Vajrayana practice when I got tired of the emotional pain it caused me, my feeling of being lost and angry. I started seeing that there were lots of things I had given up on my own terms, when I was tired of the consequences of them, was it possible enlightenment was  like this too?

At this point I had calmed down just enough to go and ask for help…Frankly I was still feeling stuck in my practice and like a real wreck until Neecha helped me see the next 2 wrong views:

  • Just because something is unknown does it necessarily mean it’s bad? Scary?

Part of my fear of continuing to practice, of eventual enlightenment, was that whatever it is, it’s not something I know, it’s some big scary place ‘over there’. My life may be a bit of a mixed-bag, but I prefer the known to the unknown. I prefer what I believe I can control to what seems uncontrollable to me. But can I really control this life? And will all limited control disappear as I move along the path? This brought me to the deepest problem…

  • Even though I was (and am) unenlightened, I assumed I knew exactly what that state would look like if I did ever get there. I assumed that it was a proscriptive state, it had various rules and restraint, that were exactly what I (from my unenlightened state) imagined they would be. I thought it was like hitting the security checkpoint at the airport, I would have to leave behind unticketed companions (like my family and friends), water bottles, and other stuff I still loved and wanted but, which broke the TSA/enlightenment  rules.

Finally Neecha said something to me that really resonated, she said, “do you wear glasses? Contacts?” “Yes, I do” I said. Neecha said, “enlightenment is like putting on glasses, it’s not like everything changes, it’s like seeing the world much more clearly than you did before”.  Honestly, I was not fully convinced, I still had my anxiety, my reservations, about my practice and the direction I was going. But, I had cleared it up enough, gotten enough clarity to get unstuck. In my head I told myself, I’ll keep going, I’ll see where this leads, I can always freak out later afterall…

Now that I look back at this story, at the period that preceded it, I suspect that this fear of moving forward was keeping me stuck. In fact, the next big ‘aha moment’, the one that begins the next “phase’ of my path actually happened just a few days after this story. Guess I wasn’t quite so screwed afterall…  

 

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