Alana's Dharma Blog

I was doing a walking meditation, contemplating the inevitability of aging. I thought a little about my body, my life, my family…thought about old pictures and how different everyone looks. Thought about clothes and sizes … Still nothing was really penetrating, I was just going through the motions. I kept pacing, pacing, pacing, and suddenly I became aware of my path.

Originally, I had been walking a circle that had a little bit of sun and a little bit of shade; it was just right. But as I walked, the day aged and I lost the sun. I couldn’t control the sun moving in the sky –gravity, planetary forces, physics are what set those conditions. I can alter my circle a little, I can change to a shadier path: I can wear make-up, get botox, use spanx, choose flattering clothes, use all sorts of lotions and potions, I have limited control. But as the day ages, as I age, it gets harder and harder, I have to walk further and further and still I lose the shade, I lose my beauty and youth. If I keep walking long enough, all the shade will go away. I will be one of those little old ladies, no amount of strawberry hair dye or hot pink lipstick can hide that I have grown old and my beauty, like the shade, has gone away.  I exert a little control, but for how long?

Tired of pacing, I decided to have a seat on a nearby bench. It was again, a nice balance between shade and sun.  But the sun didn’t stop shifting just because I had stopped pacing and before long my perfect shade to sun ratio was lost. It was beginning to get too hot so I moved the bench under a big tree and again I was comfortable. It was only a little while though till I was too hot again –the shade was just disappearing! I fiddle with the bench a bit more and then I realized. For a brief moment, out of all the moments in the day, I was happy, comfortable. For a brief time I was the right age, young (but not too young), beautiful. But In that comfort, in that perfect moment, the seeds of my discomfort were planted –it couldn’t stay the perfect temperature for me, I couldn’t stay the perfect age.

In that moment, I realized there were so many things in this world I never worried about, never missed, never tried to have, to keep, to preserve. For example, I never fantasized about sprouting wings and flying. Flying like a bird just isn’t something I hope for or that I want to achieve. My mind knows this is impossible. But a few moments at the right age, at the right temperature, these are traps for my mind. They are the foundation of further wanting, further efforts to control. They plant the seeds of hope…
The truth is, if I sat on that bench all day long maybe 1 -2 hrs out of 24 would be perfect, most would be too hot, then too cold. I had some limited control, for a little, I could move the bench, put on a sweater, but ultimately, over the course of the day there would be places my control ceased –I would be too hot or too cold. If I never got used to the comfort, if I really thought about how limited my abilities to recreate it were –how much I was at the mercy of the elements — would I keep wanting to sit? Seeing the work that goes into preserving my perfect moment, my perfect age, seeing the inevitability of my failure. Why do I keep trying? Why do I keep coming out and sitting on benches again and again (being born again and again) expecting one of these days will be different? One of these days I’ll win — after all, is it really too much to ask for a warm, shady spot all the time?

I’m preparing for the 2013 retreat and I get a brilliant idea — solar powered shower.  See, back in 2012 I had to take a few cold showers and I was none too pleased. So, I decided this year I would be prepared; I would bring one of those camping showers that had solar panels to heat the water. No more cold showers for me!!

I did all my research, read reviews, picked-out the best product. Then, with weeks of time left before the retreat, I placed my order with Amazon. When it arrived, I checked it out, tested for holes or leaks, made sure the panel worked. When it came time to drive-up to the retreat, I packed it safely in my car. I was ready.

Freakish, unseasonal thunderstorms. That’s what we got at the 2013 retreat. Days and days and days of no sunshine at all. So much for a solar powered shower…

I did all the “right” things, I researched a good product, I ordered it in time, I remembered to pack it, I packed it well so it didn’t break. Plus I was being a good Alana, a super-tree-huggy-power-saving-eco-lover that all the gods should bless ;).  But then it rained. I took the experience to heart, used it as evidence to see the limitations of my control. That  control, it got me a product, got me up the mountain with it, gave me the illusion I was managing the situation, but the weather showed me that my control is clearly not the last word. The lesson: my control is partial. But still my control is real, right? I’m in control of some things, that must be true right? Ok, my control as limited… I can work with that.

And now for a later day addition to this story: Fast forward 3 years to several weeks ago (Aug 2016). I order a box on Amazon,  I selected the product, choose the 3 day shipping window, clicked buy. 3 days later, no package. It said it was coming, there was no warning anything had gone wrong, but on that 3rd day, the sun rose and the sun set and I still had no package. WTF???

Seriously, I know I can’t control the weather … but Amazon it’s so dependable, it always sends packages, I did all the right things, WTF???

As I stare at the screen of my computer trying to figure out what exactly to do about the package now…I realize, my control is not limited.  It doesn’t exist at all.  If I were really in control, I would be in control all the time —  that is the nature of control (it means I am the one that causes, that I can override any other causes, that something is totally part of my volition, my will). If I control my car there will never be that one accident, if I control my body there will never be that weight gain, if I control my packages there will never be one that goes missing. It’s like being pregnant, you are or your not, its binary, that’s the nature of pregnancy. It’s not like there can be a little pregnant, limited pregnancy…that’s not how it works.

So what’s really happening here? Where is my mistaken view of control arising from?  I observe patterns, I remember that an Amazon 3 day has come countless times before and I assume I’m somehow the cause, or at least a partial cause (ie if I order 3 days, pay my prime membership, click the right button,  I’ll get the box). I click the button I get a box, I click the button I get a box, I click the button I get a box, I click the button I get a box –it must be my clicking the button that causes the box!

I have a permanent thought (wrong view) that what has happened before/what I imagine is how things really are/will be. Or that if it’s not, I can intervene, I can call the post office, get a new package sent, do something to MAKE IT HAPPEN. I insert my big fat self into the mix and think I’m the ‘cause’. I want to think that, need to think it, to lend credibility to my specialness. To believe the world is a safe place all buttoned-up, in which I have some measure of control.

The truth however is that the box’s arrival depends on its own set of rules. Sure, my desire for the package may plant the seed. But a seed, after being planted, grows based on soil, water, light, so many factors independent of the the farmer. The Amazon box also has countless factors that go into getting it to my door, the seller, the shipper, the product, the mail, the road system, and many more…all of these beyond me, beyond my control. How then can I say one input, clicking the button (desiring something),  that sometimes does and sometimes doesn’t work, is control? And how do I fail to notice that by ordering the box, thinking full well it would come, wanting it, needing it to come, I planted a second seed, a shadow seed — the seed of my disappointment when it doesn’t come. The seed of my effort to intervene, to call the post office, to try and get a new item, to hope again for the box and subject myself to potential disappointment all over again if it still does not come.  

How many more times will I make this same mistake? For how much longer will I tell myself fairy tales about Alana the center and master of the universe who has warm showers and packages revolve around me? I don’t know. But I do know there is a third seed that has been planted, the seed of truth. Understanding is starting to take root. The world is clearly telling me its nature, my nature. I just need to gather the evidence,to listen,  to learn to believe.

Panhandlers have always annoyed me. I feel so uncomfortable when I’m asked for money on the street…I feel so torn,  put on the spot, so UGHHH. On one hand, I don’t want to be a ‘bad’ Alana and say no. On the other hand, my Inside Voice is screaming… “what did you do to deserve my money?” (give or take a few vulgarities…that voice in my head has a potty mouth).  

One day, I’m on the street carrying a bag full of bags that I was selling as part of the temple’s Sappan Boon fundraiser. Someone asks me for money and before I could reach for my wallet, before my inside voice started screaming, I realized  “oh snap — this is just like me and my bag sales.”

At first, with the bag sales, I only wanted to ask folks close to me. Only those I thought owed me something. See I’m the kind of person that likes a ‘balanced book’ on my debts. I give if I think you are ‘worthy’ or are valuable to me and I try not to ask too much in return.  I rather have someone owe me one than the other way around. Naturally (because I’m a predictable creature if nothing else) a lot of this has to do with control, or the illusion of it anyway. If books are balanced, relationships are tit for tat, or, at least if I’m on top, things are predictable, they are on my terms. I am in control. If I owe someone else, if I need to rely on others, to depend on their help, well then I’m not in control and I’m burdened by a debt (and believe me debts weigh very heavy on my heart… my biggest ones I fear I will never be able to repay). Double no bueno.

When it came time to helping support the Wat though, I wanted to do more (I’m in mega debt to my teachers and the 3X  gems after all). I am such a recluse, have so few friends/family, that if all of them bought bags  I would have sold like 10 bags (and that’s only if some folks bought two). When I really thought about asking strangers and random folks, I realized “I don’t know other people’s karma. I don’t know their reasons for wanting or not wanting to buy a bag. I don’t know what benefits it will have for them. Really, I am just the seller, the conduit to transfer a bag. Its not all about me or my debt ledger.” And, as much as I hated to admit it, that meant I wasn’t really in control.    

The Panhandlers are the same thing. My reservations about both asking and giving are rooted in my wrong view that things will happen on my terms. That as long as I have those terms, stick to them, they make me in control, safe. That those terms are some kind of universal truth, that I am all knowing enough to know what that truth is, what that balance sheet really looks like.  I want to ask the owers and give to the worthy. But again, like with the bag buyers, I don’t know the panhandlers karma, their story, I don’t know my connection with them or their connection with the other folks they ask for money. In truth I look at them, the circumstance, the rupa  and I snap a judgment.  I really don’t even know if they meet my own criteria of ‘worthy or valuable’ (whatever that means or is). If I knew they were some kind of hero, some great compassionate soul, a scholar,or an animal rights advocate, or a Bhuddisty Buddhist, anyone I am biased towards then wouldn’t I actually want to give to them instead of doing it because I feel guilty?

In the end, I swallowed  my discomfort and started asking everyone — literally, everyone –to buy a bag.  I asked co-workers, folks at my local restaurants, made announcements at every class I went to at the gym, asked my hairstylist, the parking attendants at my garage, neighbors, basically anyone who didn’t run away before I could get a sentence out. And while that was still probably not a ton of folks (I live a pretty small life), I did it with freedom from being bogged down by the all about me-ness.

As for the panhandling, my ughhh feeling was eased a lot after this contemplation, but still a bit of a thorn in my side. That wasn’t quite resolved till years later when this topic came-up again. When this contemplation rose to the surface and I used it, fed on it, transformed it into a mega twisting tale of criteria and judgment, deserving and desire, suffering, being an A****** to others, frying squids alive, being a player in my youth, IBS, desperately needing the bathroom and, of course, panhandling. Hopefully, I have left you wondering just how that tale unfolds. I’m afraid you will need to wade through quite a few more blogs before we get there. So read on Dear Readers, read on…

So yes, seriously, I did in fact get run down by a black rhinoceros when I was on safari in Kenya. Lets just say that some big learnings followed that encounter. Here I will share the entry from my notebook just after the incident (because, of course, I brought notebook on safari just in case I had a dharma moment). Note, this is another example that closely follows the 5 Question Method outlined in Method to Undo the Madness :

The Story:  I am on a walking safari vacation in Kenya and we come across a mamma rhino and her baby standing a small distance away. Our guide advises us to get closer and hide behind a small bush. He then  proceeds to start making sounds that he hopes will get the rhinos to come out of the shrubs where they are eating. I watch the mamma rhino begin to shift, looking kind of agitated. I thought to ask the guide to stop, but the guide, who was armed with a gun, explained, “we are totally safe, rhinos ‘mock’ charge all the time but rarely actually attack.” The next thing I know the rhino is real charging and I am directly in her path. I think, “crap, I’m going to get hit.” Then I think, “how is this possible, I’m going to die on vacation”. Then I think, “well it clearly can happen, some folks do in fact die on vacation”. Between all these thoughts…I curl into a ball on the ground, the rhino kicks me, but I’m below her horn so I avoid being gored. And then, I’m alright. Sore, achy, but alright. We walk back to camp and I head straight for my notebook.

The Wrong View/Concept:

• 1) That the guide or the gun or the shrub would protect us. That someone or something can guarantee safety all the time.  In truth, I don’t control the guide, the gun, the rhino or the shrub so how can I assume a guarantee of safety when it is completely beyond my control?

• 2) That the rhino’s behaviors are predictable. That it will mock charge but not really charge. That any situation has a predictable outcome. That what usually happens, or what happened before, is by definition what will happen again. In truth, even if a rhino mock charges 1000 times that does not mean that 1001 will also be a mock charge.

• 3) That I would surely get run down, and if I was run down I would die. This is the same logic I used in Homeless Alana (if I hug then I will get swine flue, then die) and the story with my friend Barb (if she doesn’t invite me out then she doesn’t want to be my friend) and 1000 other places. It’s the belief that for sure A gets me to for sure Z without considering all the other possibilities in between.

The X Factor: As a reminder, the X number, is where I tie in other stories, where I identify deeper issues or tendencies going on that are part of a pattern of my beliefs/personality (sandan). In this story there is a biggie — animals and I have a special relationship together and we are, on a whole, A OK with each other. You can actually see hints of it in some of the other stories I have shared; Compassionate Alana who is kind to animals to be loved, Vegetarian Alana who defines her special goodness through not eating animals. Going all the way back to my childhood infact, there are endless occasions where I protect animals, or turn to them for love and support when I can’t get humans to fulfill those needs, or in general make myself special in relation to the animals. I asked myself, if that rhino had been a car driving dangerously with a driver that looked agitated, would I have gotten so close? Would I have so easily believed someone who said it was going to be OK? The truth is, despite my many many fears, the fact that I thought death lurked around every corner, I never worried about harm coming from an animal. In my crazy mind, which saw the world only from my view, I  thought I love my furry/feathered friends so they must love me back.  Which brings me to a final wrong view:

• 4) That its not my karma to be killed by an animal, that they are no danger to me. That I can know my karma, that it is based on my limited understandings and one sided wrong views. That this world is a simple tit for tat –I love you so you must love me too. That anything, any class of beings is uniform, the same, that I can label them all ‘safe’ and move on.

The Risks: I could be injured or killed.  The rhino could be injured or killed. The baby rhino could be left without a mom. The guide could lose his livelihood. Our vacay could be ruined. Eric could no longer want to travel. Folks could be less inclined to visit Kenya and tourism could be hurt.
The Dharma:  Clearly, rupa plays a starring role in this story. The form of the gun, the guide, the rhino… I try and reify (to make real and solid) form, assign it a certain meaning or function so that in my mind I can make it something predictable. I ignore that form changes, that the meaning I assign to it also changes, that those meanings are not for real or for sure.  I do this for my own agenda —  to feel safe, to feel a sense of well-being and security, to explain the world and my place in it. So for me, animal = friend. Or gun=safety. Or guide = all knowing. Ironically though, this fixed belief in the meaning of rupa does the opposite of keep me safe. It obscures risk, hides the dangers. This story clearly illustrates the falsehood of my  beliefs and the perils in holding them.