This next story features our old friends Rupa (form, stuff) and control. It’s not so much that I ever stopped contemplating these topics, in fact I am currently contemplating them with renewed vigor, but they slipped into the background of a number of these stories. So here we have it front and center once again….

I was at the Wat shortly after the India trip and Mae Yo asked a group of us the question, “Why do we have so many jackets?” Since once we start talking wardrobe, I’m in my zone, I left the Wat and kept considering the question carefully. It was clear to me that I have many clothes to exert control: control of my body (to make it look skinnier, prettier, more appropriate for various situations, to keep it warmer or cooler, more comfortable in a variety of circumstances), over how other people perceive me, over the clothes themselves (how often I need to do laundry, how I match things together). But I had already started seeing that suffering is caused in large part by my desire to control, by my failed efforts to create permanence and stability out of a world that, ultimately, lacks those traits.

You can look back at almost every story here in this blog of me trying to control people ( Blake, Sandy, Sue, Candy, Chris), objects (sponges, cups, money, bench),  my own body (disease, weight gain, blood sugar) and situations (flying, sunbathing, dentist visits, becoming enlightened) and note the extraordinary work that went into my efforts and my deep disappointment with their very limited success. I proceeded to ask myself two questions: 1) What is the cost of my control efforts and 2) Is it even possible. I didn’t need to look any further than the objects in my living room for evidence to start answering these questions.

I look around my living room and it is so so clear that everything I bought here was to control something, to solve a problem and each item created new problems.  

My fireplace — I bought to control temperature, to make me warm. But the first one I installed ended-up not being warm enough. Once I had the money for something better, I had to find a new model, new contractors and instal a second one. The second one was warm enough but produced toxic fumes, so it was months before I could use it without the window open. Which btw made it colder in the house.

Chairs — after long debates and late nights internet searching, Eric and I found ‘the perfect chairs’ for the living room. We wanted to be able to sit together, in front of the beloved fireplace, but the chairs we had did not have enough back support to be comfortable. I ended-up sitting on the floor and Eric in the other room. So we bought new chairs, they cost a fortune, covered in beautiful brown leather. We get them in the house and they don’t match anything else in the room. They were comfortable though so after agonizing over what to do, we sell our old stuff on craigslist (pain in the butt) and go through the laborious process of redesigning our living room.

Bookshelves — We couldn’t bear to get rid of any of the books in our extensive library, after all, they were part of who we are, the time we put into our reading and studies, but the boxes and boxes were crowding our closets and creating clutter so we bought a bookshelf. It was an antique piece that took forever to arrive and just as the movers were pulling it from the truck, they dropped it and broke it. We decided they could bring it back to their warehouse for repairs…the company was impossible to get a hold of, couldn’t tell me about the bookshelf, it took hours of emails, calls, and a final angry call to management to get it returned. Finally we got it back. Repaired, but never totally stable. I worry now about when exactly it’s going to break…

Rug — As part of the chair remodel, we decided we needed a rug to ‘tie the room together’. If you have ever been to a rug store…you know suffering! The pressure, the lies, the oh just take it home and try it…the endless stream of carpets testing your patients to tell the difference between each one. Eric and I couldn’t decide, an epic fight broke-out about how much to spend and which one to get. Finally we came to an agreement on a carpet so nice, I’m afraid to eat or drink in the living room, lest it get stained.

There were actually further examples, but you get the idea. I started reflecting further that with each item in this world, the problem is the suffering is already baked-in, it’s part of what you get. With birth in this body, I get death. With a breakable bookshelf, I get breaking. With a rug filled with patterns I get ones I want and ones I don’t want –its not like I can take-out the patterns I don’t like, thread by thread, and then still have a rug at the end.

Now (today time)  when I look back at this contemplation, I see that my stuff is already evidence of my failure to be a person who is in control — if buying something it is always to solve some problem, and the thing I buy creates more problems;  my failure to have a world exactly as I want it is already assumed in the purchase. The idea that some object is going to help win the war against impermanence and discomfort is ridiculous –how could that be when the objects themselves are impermanent, when they create a fresh set of problems? I mistake my little victories, the small battles, where I bought an object and for a time it made things better, as evidence that with enough objects, with enough effort, I will win the war against impermanence and suffering. But the truth is I will always lose and continuing the fight is starting to feel exhausting.