This blog is part of a series where I will share a selection of the daily dhamma data collection/ exercises, which I committed to for the 2018 Vassa period.  Today’s selection will all be highlights from the month of September, 2018. For more details on the exercise and commitment, please see this blog.

Impermanence

• I had a particularly difficult client for my business and I decided I was going to ask them for a higher fee because of their added demands and time requirements. I spent hours prepping and rehearsing my ask, only to get an email that the client decided they no longer wanted my service. On one hand, I was relieved not to need to work with them further, but on the other I was annoyed that I had wasted so much time preparing to ask for a raise for a job I no longer had.

 

• I was shocked to learn a restaurant I was trying to get reservations for closed at 7:00 PM. I couldn’t believe a restaurant would close at ‘prime-time’ dinner hour. But I realize that the restaurant has their reasons, they don’t follow my expectations or scheduling needs but rather follow their own.

 

• I went to Pilates today and got on a machine. I saw there was something strange about the machine I chose, a strap laying on it I had never seen before. Even still, it took me about halfway through the class to realize the strap on the machine, that I had tossed to the floor, was actually the shoulder strap necessary for all the hand/arm exercises. So, once we got to an exercise that required the strap, I had to change machines. Even with the evidence in front of me (weird strap on the machine) it took me a while to understand that the machine was broken. That is because I expect it to work as it has in all other classes before.  Plus, it worked for some exercises, so I didn’t even think it was broken for others. It is so clear I filter data through my own experiences and expectations. Why else would I have chosen to ignore a random strap just laying on the machine?

 

• The realtor came over today, while I was out, to take staging pictures of our NY home. He asked if he could move things and I said, “no problem.” When I got home, I saw he had put a Buddha statue in the bathroom as decor. I was aghast – in my mind, it was such an insult to the Buddha to put his image in the bathroom, who would do such a thing? But it made it so clear –what is obvious, even insulting to me is not necessarily the same for others. I take for granted that everyone shares my view/beliefs, but clearly this isn’t so.

 

• I was so worried about a long line for the shower at the gym this morning, this particular studio is always so busy at this time. I snuck out of class early to get a good spot in the shower line and there was nobody there, I really wish I hadn’t cut my workout short.

 

• I got the hotel bill for a few days stay and it was 3 times more than it had been the last time we stayed there. New dates =new rates.

 

• I overheard a gala volunteer explaining they couldn’t do the job they had done –greeting folks at the door – for decades, their knees had grown too weak to stand for so long. I have known this person so long, I still think of them as hail and hearty, it broke my heart to hear –to realize –they were growing so weak and frail in their older age. I thought, he used to be able to stand and now he can’t. I think about the clothes I used to be able to fit into, but now I can’t. Yoga poses I used to be able to do, the languages I used to be able to speak, the phone number I used to be able to call and hear dad’s voice…So many ‘used tos’ have gone way. Its not only the things I loved either — I used to be bullied by the other kids in middle school, now I am not. I used to have gallbladder pain, but since the surgery I don’t.  I used to feel devastated and trapped in the NY, but I don’t so much anymore. Those things have passed too. Everything moves along. I am the one who gets stuck, thinking what I love will stay and what I hate should be gone long before the causes for it going have been met.

 

Lack of Control

• I had started using a new facial massage tool to help me look younger. I was so pleased with how it improved my jawline, until I noticed that it was making my nasal labial folds worse.

 

• I jumped out of bed this am with the telltale cold sore itch. Sure enough, despite pills, creams, the light devices, and patches, this cold sore keeps growing and growing. None of my efforts are helping at all and I am so embarrassed.

 

• Eric had bought me a gift –a pair of Bose nose masking sleep headphones, but they broke within a few days of arrival. I was calling customer service, waiting on hold, thinking to myself these weren’t even an item I wanted, I never searched for them or imagined getting them, they were a surprise. But now, since they are mine, I have a responsibility to them. I have attachment. In just a few nights of use, I already worry about how I will sleep without them. My reliance grew so quickly. The headphones became a new sleep normal. Then they broke and I worried about repairs, replacement, dealing with customer service. I think these belonging are all under my control, that they make my life better. I don’t see they have 2 sides. I don’t see that if I become dependent on them, they control me not the other way around. And because of it I suffer in service to them.

 

• Last night I realized I had forgotten my purse and ran back to the office, as quick as I could, praying there was someone still there to let me in. As I ran, I thought about how much of my life is controlled by the contents of one little bag — without it, I can’t get into my house, I can’t pay for anything, or prove who I am with an ID, or use my phone to ask for help. I think I control my bag, but if I did, how is it left behind when I need it. I think I control my life, but if that were true, how is it so many critical things –lifelines – can be lost in a second with a bag.

 

• On my way to a meeting downtown my stomach began to hurt and I had to run and find a public bathroom for explosive diarrhea. As I think about all the evidence I have gained over this exercise I am starting to see: Each of these ‘freak’ one offs – sagging face lines, lost purses, cold sores, diarrhea, tooth pain, hearing sounds I don’t like, smelling smells I don’t like, not sleeping, over sleeping, weird dreams, trouble breathing – they are not one offs at all. They are not freak at all. These are totally regular things. My breaking, discomfort, body not as I want, changing, all daily events. How am I ignoring them? When will be the asthma attack that means I can’t breathe again forever? When will the tooth infection spreads? The pain become unbearable? Difference of degree is the delta between what I experience every single day and the day I die, or get a terminal diagnosis, or hit chronic unbearable pain. The difference is not kind at all. Why do I think I am able to control this body, this world, when everyday I encounter ample evidence to the contrary?

 

• I checked my credit score and found it had gone down. I racked my brain and I couldn’t figure out why – I had changed nothing, bought nothing new, and there appeared to be no fraud or other issues with the account. Despite my best efforts, entirely independent of my knowledge, my score had changed.

 

• Years ago, I used to do yoga everyday, my body was a yoga machine. But after an injury, I stopped doing it so much and began mixing-up my workouts. I went to a yoga class tonight and I felt like an amateur, so many poses I just couldn’t do. Despite years of work and discipline, my body had so quickly lost all the yoga abilities and movements it used to have. If I can’t force the effect of my efforts to endure can I really say I control this body?

 

• Eric made black beans and had me taste them for spice. They were amazing. Perfect. But, I told him, I didn’t think he made enough since we have guests over, so he dumped another can in. But, the second can changed the flavor and in the end it wasn’t as good. I can absolutely impact the black beans, but there is no guarantee I will make them better.

Not So Special Now Are Ya?

• I was visiting my brother and sister-in-law shortly before their second child was born – they were in the process of converting their office to a room for the new baby because it was the only spare room available in their house.  It made me remember so clearly that when I was a kid, shortly after my brother was born, my parents moved me to the guest room. I was so excited, thinking I was a ‘big girl’ now, getting the big room with the queen-sized bed. I thought it meant I was so  mature, special. Now, seeing my brother make space for his new kid, I realize that getting that guest room when I was young  wasn’t about me being special, it wasn’t about me at all,  it arose based on circumstances, on the space available in my parents’ home. So the question is, how many other things do I mistake as being about me –evidence of my specialness – when they are just arising based on the circumstance at hand.

 

• I saw a homeless woman standing on the street this morning, she was stopping folks walking by and asking them if they would sign her dad’s obituary. I remember how much it meant to me, when my dad died, that folks had written things for him on his obituary site — confirming my dad was someone special ( and by extension, so was I). I am always mentally distancing myself from the homeless people, thinking how I a different, safer, un-addled by drugs or mental health issues. I have skill, a safety net of savings, and loved ones to help keep me off the street. But, here she and I both are, the same, united in our loss of the people we love, desperate to try and prove our own value/identity in the face of that loss.

 

• Last night a friend had come over to hang out at my apartment. In the morning, I noticed a splotch of blood in the sink. I was so friggin grossed out, figuring it was my friend’s blood. But I clean up my blood from the sink all the time. Why do I think my mess is cleaner, less disgusting than someone else’s? Isn’t blood just blood no matter who it belongs to?

 

• I walked into a nick-nack store in today and they had a bunch of clocks for sale on the wall. Each one a little different then the others. I thought, “why is there so much selection, so many cups, dresses, blankets when they are all functionally the same” I see it is about making its buyer feel special, giving the illusion of special. If was all just had the same clock, no one would imagine it was anything more than a device to keep time. But the flourishes, the slight differences, this is something people can build a ‘unique’ identity upon. With this device, this style clock, or dress or blanket, I can be different than everyone else that uses these items. With this set of small details, I can use these everyday items to prove something special about me.

 

• I went to my favorite consignment store today. I love to go there and ‘troll’, scouting for clothes that are ‘me’, my style, that will make me feel sexy and beautiful — special. But, these very clothes used to belong to someone else, if they had the power to bestow specialness, why have they been tossed from some other woman’s closet? And what about all the clothes I have rid myself of? Thousands of articles by now, I keep looking for special, but if it were to be found, wouldn’t I have located it in one of those outfits already? What about the white fur cape, that I bought last year because I imagined how fab. I would look wearing it to the gala this year. But now, my body has changed and when I try it on it looks ridiculous. I use these objects to fuel my imagination of what I am, what I will be, and it doesn’t even come true.