Alana's Dharma Blog

Before we set sail to New York, Eric and I decided to go on a 3 week holiday to Europe. I planned every last detail, booked us in the nicest hotels, chose upgraded flight seats, researched the best activities and routs. With so much prepping, preparing and thoughtful packed I couldn’t imagine anything going wrong. But, its travel –its life–so of course, plenty did go wrong. Some stuff was just inconvenience, some funny missteps or misunderstandings. But there were a couple of incidents that made me so angry, so indignant, because the were simply NOT FAIR:

• Verizon — I had gone to Verizon and set-up an international phone plan before I left. But when we got to our first stop and I tried to use my phone, I realized that, contrary to what I was told at the Verizon store, my plan had not been set-up. I tried to get help online, but was unable. Ultimately I ended up having to call customer service, and pay international calling rates, to speak to a representative that could get my plan up and running. I was livid — it wasn’t my fault, and yet I had to pay just to fix a sales rep’s mistake. NOT FAIR!

•  Hotel  Booking — I had booked a room at a nice hotel in Malta and confirmed that the booking was all arranged and in good order before we left the US. I arrived at the hotel and they told me they had canceled my booking. No one new exactly why, however it happened. With a conference in town, the rates for their last remaining rooms had gone-up by nearly 2X. My choices were to book a more expensive room or leave and hope that, despite the conference, I could find another hotel room somewhere else. I felt extorted, I had prepared, done everything right, and yet here I was, and it was NOT FAIR!

• ‘Premium’ Airline Seats — For my flight home I booked ‘premium bulkhead seats’ with extra legroom in front. But, the airline had neglected to mention that the bulkhead area, though not technically an aisle, was the easiest way for the majority of passengers to go to and from the bathroom. As soon as I sat down, the flight attendants began to apologize. I soon learned why — every 2 minutes someone was stepping on my feet trying to get to the bathroom. There was an announcement that passengers should not use the bulkheads as an aisle. The flight attendants even tried blocking-off the ‘premium seats’ with luggage. But ultimately there was no way to stop the flow of passengers stepping on me for a 14 hour flight.  These were the seats I had paid extra for: It is so NOT FAIR.

What was supposed to be a relaxing vacation was punctuated by these moments of such intense stress and anger. In my darkest moments — as I waited on hold, paying by the minute, for Verizon, as I stared incredulously at the hotel clerk who told me my confirmed reservation had been canceled, as I was trampled by someone going to the bathroom just as I was about to nod off — I kept thinking, “Do you know who I am?”, “This is so not right!” ,”I’M GOING TO GET YOU FOR THIS.”

I had an expectation (permanent thought) of how things should go, of what I deserved based on my level of preparation or my payment. When it didn’t go as I expected I felt personally wronged, I felt angry and I wanted revenge for being made to feel small, unimportant and out of control. But is it really not right? Can it really be ‘not how things should be,’ when it is actually how things are?

I have a delusion about the way the word works –according to my standards. But clearly right according to Alana isn’t permanent and True; it’s not the rule that governs the world. I am here, born, I put myself on planes and in hotels, into this body and this life. I am the one that comes up with my own standards and I am the one that fools myself into believing those standards are absolute. Who else can be blamed for my disappointment, discontent? Who is worthy of my revenge other than I myself?

It was a sorrowful farewell : I pulled the Porsche out of the garage for the final time and drove that tearful trail to Carmax. I took the wayward path, top-down, enjoying one last twisty turny mountain path before I hit the parking lot and went to speak to the dealer about making a sale. We were moving to NY City and the car had to stay behind. I would miss her, but I figured I could take the money for the trade-in and save it for another car later on.

It was a shock, a slap in the face, when the Carmax folks came back with an offer that barely covered the rest of the car payments. The Pro came-out to explain; that slight catching feeling I had noticed during acceleration, it was a mechanical problem — some serious $$$ repairs were necessary, so it decreased the value of the car.  It made sense, plus I had no choice with a plane to catch in just 2 days. I took their offer and left, too angry, hurt and ashamed to even look at that Porsche before walking out of the lot and to the train station.

I sat on the train and seethed — I felt so angry, deceived, ashamed — in my mind that car was so valuable, so precious. I had spent so much time, energy and care to own and preserve it. I did it, because it had ‘proved’ my wealth, my status, my on-top-of-the-fucking-worldness, for so long… and then, in the end, it proved me a fool.  It was like a husband who makes me feel so special, only for me to learn I’m but one of 100s of their lovers: Used.

“That fucking car lied” I thought.  But really, did the car whisper its worth in my ear? That car never lied to me, I lied to me.  I saw that rupa (form) and I imagined a value. In fact, I imagined a whole fairy tale with me as the buttoned-up, well-to-do, heroine with a fast and flashy car; so clever, so poised, so on-top-and-in-charge. A broken, worthless car, wrecked my fantasy — it told a different tale, one of a person who can’t preserve or control their shit, one who is hoodwinked by flashy baubles, an anti-hero loser in the end. The problem with believing my own fantasy is that reality will always, ultimately, make itself known…so is the fantasy really worth it for the temporary, delusion-based happiness it brings?

Now I have no car, no money and a whole lot of disappointment. And who set me up for that? (Me obviously).

I was walking along and suddenly got to thinking back on something strange I had seen a few years before: I was at a construction site, filled with tools and equipment, and near the center of the room was a ladder that had a post-it-note securely taped to it. The note, written in big black marker read, “Mine not yours.”

I assume the owner of the ladder had put up the note to let others know the ladder was his/hers. But, ironically, the message made it sound like the ladder belongs to any reader who reads the note. After all, when I read, ‘mine not yours’, I do so from my own perspective;  the voice in my head thinks of itself as the ‘me’ not the ‘you’.  If ownership is something that requires my or your perspective, then is it something universal? Is it capital T true?

Can a note  keep the ladder ‘faithful’ and prevent it from allowing itself to be used by someone else? Can it keep the ladder from ‘walking away’, being taken by some other worker? Can it keep the ladder from falling or breaking or losing structural integrity? The note actually tells the real truth: if my ladder, my belongings, obeyed me they wouldn’t need a note in the first place.  What is mine would act like it was mine and it would be plain for all the world to see.

Instead, a ladder, like all objects, has a ‘life of its own’. It is a combination of parts, it has a moment in time (birth) at which all those parts come together, it has a period where –like Shed– it maintains its ladder function and form (life), and ultimately it will come apart, erode, decompose, break, i.e. die. While it exists, the ladder has ‘rules of its own’, ways it can be used, limits to its function and strength and structure. Ownership can’t change any of this, and the concept of mine-ness, born from my perspective, oblivious to the reality of the object is as flimsy as the sticky note it was written on.