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Month: February 2018

Some (More) HW on Self and Self Belonging

Some (More) HW on Self and Self Belonging

 

Mae Yo, once again, offered me her favorite homework assignment — “go contemplate self and self belonging.” This time around, she gave made it a little harder —  “go contemplate self and self belonging in the situations of your life and  pay special attention to the relationship between self, self belonging,  the aggregates and  the arising of suffering.” Somehow, I never seem to get those easy assignments….Anyway, here you can take a peek at my answer and see how I did :).

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I’ll give more details below, but as a preview: I’m starting to see that self and self belonging is a lens through which we interpret the world. It’s a judge, and a filter and it seems to be one of the main reasons we are able to imagine permanence.

The Situation:

So my contemplation started when Eric and I went early on a warm morning to sit in a garden/coffee shop down in Bayview. It was so lovely, warm, good coffee, quiet. We found seats in a private area, on a heated bench, there was even a cat there that sat down with me and snuggled-up. I noticed my comfort. I noticed my imagination already running… Here are a few of those imagination thoughts: this was a special spot for Eric and I now, we could repeat it, If anything happened to him would I be too sad to come back here or would it be a spot that brought me comfort? I hoped people wouldn’t come trekking in our little nook. I wondered how long Eric would be patient just sitting…  I realized that in such a short time I made the spot ‘mine’ part of my narrative, a place I sensed I belonged and in some way belonged to me.

The Aggregates:

So I started to look more carefully at how this all arose. First I looked at the rupa (form #1), the fabric of the scene. So many things that I already know I am predisposed to liking. It’s a garden –a green space with nature, but nature that is groomed, trimmed, controlled. It was empty, not many people, so quiet and I felt alone, safe. It was warm –warm coffee, warm sun, warm seat (I don’t know why yet, but warm is a thing I associate with comfort and vitality) There was a cat, cuddling-up, making me feel special and liked.  In essence there were a bunch of forms (#1) (cat, garden, warm stuff) that nudged my memories (#3) into remembering all the positive associations I have with those. My feelings (#2) kicked in and I felt positive about the situation so then came my imagination (#4)–making it mine, making it a place in association with me, that affirmed me.

The Harm:

Just looking at whether the image I painted was even true was enough to highlight some of the harm –here I was, at a coffee shop, in the ghetto, petting a random animal and feeling illusions of safety, comfort and mine-ness –that’s sort of crazy. Is the place safe after dark? Even during the day?Is it mine–really?If I didn’t buy coffee would I be allowed to sit? When folks started poking around the place I was sitting, I started feeling protective, defensive of a space that is very clearly not really mine even in a conventional sense (where it belongs to the shop owner). As the rupa changed, my comfort decreased..it became a little too warm, the cat ran away, I felt hungry and restless and then I felt dissatisfaction that something that had previously been so perfect was already decaying.

Additionally, before I went to this place I had no sense of it in relation to me. It was just a store across town. But once I was there and my aggregates got cranking somehow I became interwoven with the place. I got puffier and bigger than before. A new Alana, garden-coffee-shop-Alana, arose (and subsequently softened again after contemplation).

The Deeper Creepier thing Going On:

Forewarning, we are entering territory that’s still fuzzy along the edges for me… But when I really thought about it, I realized that I was picking and choosing the rupa to pay attention to, the “facts” of the situation. And moreover I was interpreting the stuff I did pay attention to in a way that suited me, that affirmed the story I wanted to tell. So for example, there were planes going overhead making noise but I chose to filter them out. We were in fact in the ghetto, on an industrial street just outside the garden, again, I chose to ignore it so that I could build the illusion of the scene I wanted. That made me comfortable. A long time ago, Mae Yo asked me how we ignore the “background noise” –I am starting to think it goes something like this:

Somehow (still a black box for me) our minds hold together a narrative. We take bits and pieces of data, we take isolated moments of arising, and we string them together into something cogent, unified and whole. Its like our sense of self and self belonging help sell the lie, they smooth the narrative over (ignore the background noise). They help us pick which facts to include and which to ignore.

Several days after the garden, I was contemplating about it while sitting in Union Square over lunch. I had snagged a public table and then some guy came and sat with me. He sat a little close and I had a sense –he is in my space. Then I really thought about it. what does it mean. Is it the air around me?  If I move to another table does my space follow me? Does it shrink when Eric, or a close friend is in it but expand for a stranger? The only thing that unifies the “space”, if its here or there, or in relation to who or what, is me. That made me see so clearly that self is the lens through which I interpret the world.   Its how I make something impermanent and totally unreal (like personal space) seem steady, meaningful, real. Its literally,in the case of space, my perspective.But unless I examine it closely it seems so factual and definite, not just like a perspective.Even weirder still, I had the sense that self is the reference point that I use to see the world as something steady, but even my sense of self changes. It is moving, just like if I moved my body to another table in the square my reference point would change, my sense of space would change. So I have an impermanent self that looks upon an impermanent world and tries to fix it as permanent, as controllable, as singular in its reference to me.

Self is also how I decide and judge –I was filling out my sample ballot for the Nov. election and I watched myself weigh my choices, each one I considered how it either affected me or aligned with what I think is right.

I also noticed that my sense of self likes to build itself. When it’s choosing what to pay attention to or how to judge something, the criteria are usually things that affirm it as real, benefit it and make it feel safe. When I look back on my narrative of me and my Mom, for the longest time, I was the victim. I was the hero who suffered quietly and emerged an OK somewhat functional adult. But when I started contemplating gratitude I was forced to look at all the parts of the story I chose to ignore–that I edited from my book. Only now do I see all the stuff I did that wasn’t so heroic and the stuff my Mom did, which I had ignored, but which are worthy of my appreciation.

All this brings me to my biggest question  that I am stuck on– why do we do this –prop-up a self and continue to fuel it? What purpose does it serve? Sometimes, when I understand why I do something I can analyze whether or not it works and it helps me stop.

Stay tuned for the next Blog in which I get an answer, in the form of more homework…ugh….

 

Suffering and Self — Yummy

Suffering and Self — Yummy

Up until now, my practice had, of course, considered suffering and self; after all, they make the obligatory appearance in most of my stories. But, they had always been an appetizer, maybe a big kale salad,  sometimes the all important desert (I have a sweet tooth). But they were rarely the main course. That honor generally went to impermanence or other interesting Buddhisty stuff like karma and aggregates ( had I been paying close enough attention, I would have noticed karma and the aggregates are really just fancier frameworks in which to think about suffering and self, but I am not always the swiftest student on the path…) . Anyway, around Sept. 2014 that began to change and I made a big push for looking at suffering, self, and ultimately the connection between the two, head-on.

Ironically suffering and self are sort of the headline acts in Buddhism. The problem statement is that this world contains a ton of suffering (and our selfs are the ones experiencing it). The Buddha’s sales pitch is essentially that there is a way out of suffering and, if you followed his program, he’ll lead the way. The practice itself is in fact moving from suffering to freedom from suffering and seeing the role of our big fat selves is a critical part of that path. So after a lot of prior ado … let me introduce the stars of tonight’s show, suffering and my self…

My Mom and I Part 4 — The Middle Path

My Mom and I Part 4 — The Middle Path

As a recap: This blog is a continuation of the last in which I discovered gratitude for my mom after re-considering my memories of her. It was an exercise in which I made an effort to recall Mom’s good qualities as an antidote to my previous perspective which was to focus on negatives only.

With my heart all mushysoft with gratitude for my mom, a troubling question came to mind — How do I pay her back? I mean really, this is a woman, who despite any flaws and failures, birthed me, raised me, cared for me, went above and beyond the basics to give me the best life possible. How exactly do I pay that debt? Can I?

In a perfect straight forward, one sided world, it should be easy; maybe I could just do everything I possibly can to make Mom happy from now on. But this is the real world, it is not perfect, it is nuanced and, it always has two sides (another way to look at this is the same response is not always appropriate in every situation, that’s one characteristic of impermanence)…The truth of this world is sometimes my mom wants things that are impossible, that are more than I can give, that change so fast I can’t keep-up. She wants me to visit more than time, money or my marriage might allow. She wants me to  follow her religious path when I have my own. You guys get the point here, it’s not so easy to figure out the right balance, the right give versus hold, the middle way.

This issue had been weighing my mind for a few weeks when I got a call.  It was my brother, “Mom is in the hospital, routine procedure went awry, hop the next flight because the docs aren’t sure she will make it through the night.”

I walked into the hospital and it was clear, at least for that moment, Mom’s role and mine had changed. Now it was my turn to help care for her, comfort her, to talk to the doctors, to help get her water and food, to take her to the bathroom when she needed to go. I was happy to help, happy for the chance to give back (though not for the circumstances), but suddenly a deeper, much more subtle thought was taking shape: In just one lifetime the roles can switch so quickly. The boons, the slights, we deal each other keep shifting. Can I really track the score, over countless lifetimes, so that I can volley back every tit and tat?

In the end, what I can do, what I need to do, is my best. I need to honestly evaluate my heart and determine my duty for the situation at hand. I need to do it not for anyone else, but for me, so that I can rest at night with my own heart (ie I don’t build karma I need to repay). And no, this is not an easy answer. It is not a clear prescriptive action plan to pay back all debt. It’s also a work in progress, a moving target, something I am learning to do as I go. But…I am aware.

Present Day Alana says:  Mom eventually made a full recovery (this story was back in Aug. 2014) and she was just out visiting me to celebrate our birthdays (Aug. 2017). I went to meet her one morning and, stressed about a work email I had just received, I snapped at her. I spoke harshly, I forgot that she flew out to see me, was choosing to spend her birthday with me. But quickly I caught my mistake.  I realized I had failed in my duty, I had done wrong in the situation. I apologized and tried harder, to do better. Maybe one of these days I’ll get so fast I can catch these mistakes before I make them…

Mom and I Part 3: A Little Gratitude Goes a Long Way

Mom and I Part 3: A Little Gratitude Goes a Long Way

A recap: In the last blog I described how I used a simple tool ( A is better than B, B is Better than A, etc.) to begin considering some of  the wrong views I held about my mom, particularly in comparison to my dad. I came to see that I had built an ‘image/memory’  of my mom that was based on my biases (of what characteristics are most valuable), in service of my agenda (to hero-ize my dad and I). I had selectively remembered certain stories and traits and used them to paint a very one dimensional (one-sided, i.e. wrong view) mom.

Today’s episode: So how do I start imagining/remembering a 2-sided mom? How do I get to the middle way? By gathering evidence of course! Since I had stored-up so much negative evidence, I decided it would be helpful for me to try and really consider some stories from my life in which mom played the hero. I began an exercise (1 day) in which, after each bite of food, I would recall something positive about my mom.  Note, the choice to think while chewing was totally arbitrary, this is not some kind of sacred ritual or anything; I just wanted to use a physical que that would help me remember to do my homework.

Here are just a few of my memories:

  • When I was sick with the chicken pox my mom took care of me. I remember her watching tv with me, drawing me oatmeal baths and giving me ice cream
  • When I broke-up with my first boyfriend my mom was there for me. I remember sitting and  sobbing in my bed as my mom gently rocked me and assured me that there would be other boys
  • My mom stayed-up all night with me helping me to my science fair project the night before it was due. She ran all over town getting me the materials I needed and helped me set everything up
  • When I failed 4th grade math, my mom managed to get the Miami school board to agree to letting me have a private tutor at my camp in South Carolina instead of having to stay home and go to summer school. She made the arrangements with the school, tutor and the camp, all so I wouldn’t have to miss out on summer fun
  • I wanted to be in girl scouts as a kid, but there was no troop leader, so my mom signed-up to become a leader so we could have scouts at my school
  • When I started having sex with my first boyfriend I told my Mom. Without any judgement, nagging or comment, she took my to the Dr. to get on birth control and get advice on how to stay safe
  • There was a super popular toy I wanted for Hanukkah one year, my mom must have driven everywhere because it was all sold out.
  • When I went broke backpacking in Europe, my mom wired me money
  • I was really picked-on a lot in middle school. My mom knew how painful it was for me to get-up and go in the morning. She would often take me to get hot chocolate before school to try and cheer me up and give me encouragement for my day.
  • As a child I never missed a doctor or dentist appointment. My mom made sure I had every vaccine on time, I got any medicine I needed. Now, as an adult I see how hard it is to stay on top of all these life details and realize what an effort it must have been for my mom to keep my brother and I healthy
  • My mom was always finding enrichment activities for my brother and I. She took us to museums, theatre and classes. I so fondly remember that she would take us down to the Miami River and we would feed the manatees there.
  • My mom, a science teacher, would volunteer to come to my school every year and, for free, give a hands-on science class to all the kids

These are really just a few examples, the list, obviously went on and on ( otherwise I would have had a very hungry day). But as I was listing, I saw my mom through fresh, teary, eyes. Seriously, if the list were about someone else’s mom,  I would say this is a hero of a parent, certainly not a villain.  Really,  there are so many kids in the world whose parents don’t even give them the basics — food, shelter, healthcare, education — my mom really went above and beyond. So where was my gratitude?  

Wrong views are such a tricky thing…my bias made me ignore so much of the mom good stuff, and the more I ignored/forgot, the stronger my bias became. But as I started gathering the evidence, coming to middle, my heart began to soften. I felt myself grow less defensive, more open and so so grateful. I found a 2 dimensional mom I lost so long ago. And my mom, as one more of her gifts, gave me the chance to understand the value of gratitude. Gratitude that can make me softer, more yielding. Gratitude that can make me  less ME ME ME.

Thanks Mom, for everything!

 

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