2020 Retreat Part 8– A Ring/A Body That I Am Forced to Part Ways With Against My Will Can’t be Mine
Day 8: Part 1: Wedding Ring
My wedding ring is not under my control (it was not mine, I had to part ways with it ‘against my will’).
If my wedding ring were under my control, it would have never gotten scratched, or dull or dirty and dead skin never would have caked-up on the inside making it feel sticky.
If my wedding ring were under my control, I would never have had to worry about it sliding down the drain when I did dishes. I would have never had to worry about it getting stolen when I walked through rough neighborhoods. Most of all, if that ring were really mine, I would still have it today, it would have never gotten lost, we would have never had to part ways.
But the very fact that my ring defied my deepest desires — for it to stay shiny and stay clean and stay pristine and, most importantly to stay with me — absolutely proves that ring is not, and never was, under my control.
When the ring rubbed against other solid objects — tables and weights and steering wheels — it scratched. When the ring was exposed to minerals in water, dust in the house, and liquids in food it became dirty and dull. When the skin on my hand got wet and rubbed against the inside of the ring, dead skin would build up and get sticky. When the elements in the ring’s environment interacted with the ring in such a way that the causes of scratching, dirtying, dulling and skin build-up were met, scratching, dirtying, dulling and skin build-up ensued.
Moreover, because that ring was never under my control, when the reasons for our separation arose, the result was our separation. When cold weather caused my fingers to shrink, my fingers shrank. When the friction of my gloves against the ring caused the ring to slip over my shrunken fingers, the ring slipped off. No matter how dear it was to me, no matter how much I wished it were otherwise, the ring went its way and I went mine.
“Alana, howz about we do the questions?” “You got it Great Dharma Lord.”
1) Is that ring of yours permanent or impermanent? Clearly Lord, the ring is impermanent. The ring itself is impermanent, with changes in shine and cleanliness and shape. My relationship with the ring is also impermanent, with us having come together, stayed together for a few years, and then the ring getting lost and parting ways with me.
2) Is the impermanence of the ring something that causes you stress or ease? Lord, it was something that was so deeply stressful. As soon as I got the ring, I worried about it constantly, I wanted it to always stay looking clean and shiny and new. Even more, I worried about losing the ring, about it falling off or getting stolen. When it finally did get lost, it broke my heart. I cried and cried. In my mind I had lost not just a ring, but a symbol of my specialness, my value and my lovableness.
Now I understand that my pain and stress in relation to the ring was also impermanent: Before I got the ring, I never stressed about it. Now, years after it was lost I am also completely ‘over it’. My stress had a fixed duration — it lasted only as long as my imagination was wrapped-up with how that ring defined me, and the future that we would have together.
3) So Alana, do you think it is fitting to regard what is impermanent, stressful and which you need to part ways with as: “This is me.” “This is my self.” “This is what I am.”?
Honestly Great Lord, the fact that I lost this ring, that I was forced to part ways with it against my will, is a very persuasive point for the ‘no column’. While I had that ring, I definitely believed it to be mine. Now that the ring and I have been separated for a time, it is so obviously not mine. If it were really mine, shouldn’t it’s mineness continue even after we had parted ways? But the truth is, it didn’t. The ring, undoubtedly continued on being a ring; its elements continued their ever-shifting-arrangement march towards their ultimate consumption or disaggregation. Yet, after a time, I stopped considering it mine. This proves to me that ‘mine’ is in me and not in the ring.
But we have already seen that rings and shoes and plants and retainers and even my body are all going to act in accord with their nature, shifting into various arrangements of elements before ultimately disaggregating and/or being consumed. I will be forced to part with all objects. If I don’t regard them as mine after we part ways, and I don’t regard them as mine before we come together, why should I regard them as mine for the finite period we are together? What is so special about that time — especially when, as we have established, during that together-time I don’t actually control the object?
I chose to call that ring mine because I believed it would ‘prove’ a set of qualities about myself — that I was valuable and lovable. But how do I really expect a changeable, losable ring to reflect a set of qualities in myself that I believe are permanent (I know they are not, but that is a contemplation for another day)? Perhaps that is why I am on the endless, exhausting, soul crushing, anxiety provoking, sorrow inducing, treadmill of acquisition; I need more objects to replace ever changing/losing/dying objects to prove ‘who I am’.
When I claimed that ring as mine, I didn’t just try to possess an object, I tried to possess a particular future that I believed the ring could help guarantee — a long marriage, a continued state of being valuable and lovable. The future I imagined definitely had the wedding ring in it. Real future did not. So doesn’t that prove that the ring was incapable of bringing about the future I envisioned? Without that power, to bring about the future I want, do I really consider it mine? Lets face it, as soon as I stopped imagining a happy future in NY, the house I owned there, which I had bought feeling so sure would be the home-base for a fabulous NY adventure, stopped being ‘mine’ in my headheart even if it was still mine on the deed.
So if an object can’t stay with me, if it can’t eternally reflect a set of characteristics that I believe are eternal and it can’t guarantee my future, what is the point of regarding the object as mine at all? What is the point of being overly concerned with these objects? How do I justify the particular pain and stress, that arises only in relation to objects I think I own (ie. I don’t feel particularly crushed when someone else’s wedding gets lost), when the objects don’t even do what I think they do and then disappoint me every time?
Day 8: Part 2: My Body is Like My Wedding Ring
My body is not under my control (it is not me, it is not mine, I will have to part ways with it, even if it is against my will).
If my body were under my control it would never get blemishes or lesions, it would never look dull or get dirty and it would never feel sticky or pained.
If my body were under my control, I would never have to worry about catching Covid when I am around others. I would never have to worry about it being taken, raped, when I walk through rough neighborhoods. Most of all, if this body were mine I could guarantee I will have it for as long as I want it, it would never die, we would never have to part ways.
But the very fact that this body, on a regular basis, defies my deepest desires — for it to stay unscraped and unscathed, clean and pristine, never sick and never pained — absolutely prove that this body is not and never was under my control.
When this body’s elements are caused to rearrange in ways that result in it being scraped or dirtied or aged or sick or pained, scraped or dirtied or aged or sick or pained will ensue. Because this body is not under my control, it can catch Covid if the conditions for catching Covid are met. Because this body is a physical object, it can be taken and used by others when who are physically capable of taking it and using it. Because this body is not under my control, no matter how desperately I cling to it, no matter how hard I try to take care of it, my will and my actions are incapable of keeping it with me forever.
“Alright Alana its qq time.” “Lets do this Great Dharma Lord.”
1) Is that body of yours permanent or impermanent? Clearly Lord, it is impermanent — I have seen sores arise and heal, I have had joints get torn, teeth get pulled, skin sag and wrinkle, cholesterol go up, blood sugar go down, breathing become labored muscles strengthen and atrophy. I go through states of dirty and clean, hungry and full, tired and alert, healthy and ill. The body’s external form changes, just as its internal organs and other components change. It gets older and it gets sick and eventually it will die.
2) Is the impermanence of the body something that causes you stress or ease? Oh Lord, on a stress scale of 1 to 10 this body is like a friggen 11. I worry about it constantly, I worry about how it looks, how it feels, how it sounds and how it smells. I worry about ageing, I worry about disease and I worry most of all about death.
3) So Alana, do you think it is fitting to regard what is impermanent, stressful, and which you will ultimately need to part ways with as: “This is me.” “This is my self.” “This is what I am.”?
Alright Great Lord, on this one I really hear you. The fact of the matter is that this body is exactly like my ring, I will be forced to part ways with it one of these days , whether I like it or not. How do I know that with such surety you may ask? I know it because this body is made of the exact same stuff – fire/water/wind/earth – as my ring and as each and every object in this world. The only difference between this body and everything else is simply the proportion of these elements. Because all rupa arises from an aggregation of elements, marches along shifting and changing the arrangement of elements, and then disaggregates or become consumed, it is absolutely certain that this body — a particular aggregation of elements — which has already arisen, will keep shifting its arrangement of elements and will ultimately become disaggregated or consumed.
At the end of my body’s march, its form’s heat, movement, liquids and solids will have to separate and return to the earth; as such they will separate from me for sure. So is something of this world, that follows the rules of this world, and that ultimately separates from me and returns to this world really me or mine?
The truth is I have bound my sense of self up with this body; I depend on it to ‘hold’ together this Alana life — the family, the friends, the belongings, the ideals and values — but this body is not a dependable thing; its continual shifting makes for fragile grounds upon which to build a life, and whether I like it or not, its dissolution is imminent.
When I rent a car, I sign a contract and I know from the get go that I will part ways with it. Sure, while I have it I care for it, but I am not overly concerned about the thing. While I have it I can use it in my travels, I get to drive it from point A to point B. But when the contract is up, and I have to return it, there is no wailing and gnashing of teeth. One time, I rented a particularly fancy car and as I jumped out at the service station someone waved me down to compliment me on my bad ass car. I thanked them, but the comment didn’t stick, it didn’t puff me up, I knew in my heart the car was a rental — it wasn’t me, it wasn’t mine, it was just something I was driving for 5 days between Orlando and Miami. So how about this body, isn’t it a loaner too? Something I drive between point A and point B, only to return when the contract comes due?
