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Month: July 2020

LP Nut’s Alana-fied Technique to Uncover Hidden Benefits and Beliefs Part 1.

LP Nut’s Alana-fied Technique to Uncover Hidden Benefits and Beliefs Part 1.

At the 2017 retreat, Phra Nut taught a method of contemplation aimed at uncovering the hidden benefits and beliefs that lay at the foundation of our charged responses to situations we find upsetting. Now, I have to admit that from the get-go that I modified LP’s technique a bit to fit my understanding and thinking style, so, in the interest of transparency, what  you are going to get here is  an Alana-fied version/explanation of all this.

From my understanding, the technique relies on the premise that in a situation where we feel angry/frightened/upset we are already suffering  and yet, despite this suffering, we continue right on doing/feeling/believing the things that cause us pain. The only logical conclusion to why we endure pain: On some level we think there is benefit that outweighs this pain and we have deep core beliefs that justify it.

This technique uncovers hidden beliefs, and benefits, that our mind subconsciously thinks are true/ we will be rewarded with. Once those hidden beliefs and benefits are pulled out of the shadows we have a chance to question them in the full, illuminating light (i.e. challenge our wrong views).  The technique invites a series of ‘what-if’/ ‘so what’ questions that have really helped me dig deeper and learn about some of the unspoken, deep and subtle beliefs that underlie my problems and views. It further involves the listing out of the pros/cons of my beliefs/behaviors and gives me the chance to see the cons that come with the ‘hidden benefit’ pros, and to challenge the truthfulness of those pros.

Below, I will share one of my own personal examples in which I used an Alana-adapted rendition of this technique at the retreat; it will be outlined in a 2 part blog, the first one to trace the ‘what if questions’ and the next a dissection of my pro/con list.  Admittedly, I don’t often find myself using the full-blown, method all that often these days, but elements of it, and the idea that sometimes I need to dig deeper to find my hidden assumptions, has been a powerful supercharge to my practice. In fact, the exercise I am about to share really helped me begin to see some of the deep -seeded beliefs that underlie even ‘simple’ problems and views.  So, without further ado…

Event/Situation: People honk their horns, at all hours. They do it when there is a traffic jam and there is no possible place the person in front of them could go. People even honk at the police officer who stands in the road directing traffic

My Emotion: Anger        The degree of my emotion from 1-10: 10++++++++ 

Diagram of my belief:  Click the link below to see a diagram that traces my beliefs. Thoughts are connected by arrows that represent the question: “If that is true, what does it mean for me?”

Click Here For Link to Exercise Diagram

 

When I went through the series of  ‘if that is true what does it mean for me questions,’ I found a road map to my deepest beliefs about what honking meant. What something so simple (a particular arrangement of rupa) signaled to me about the world and the fears it stoked based on my beliefs of the doom it portended. Of course, with those beliefs,  my anger and indignation at the honkers was necessary — because no matter how painful that anger was, it was an emotion that had real benefits: It separated me from the lawless riffraff of NY. It was a safeguard against becoming a complacent rule breaker myself — someone unworthy of love, someone with no hope of living in a safe, predictable and therefore controllable world.

In the next blogs we will explore a part 2 of this exercise — the pro/con list of my attachment to the view people should be considerate (not honking being just one form of consideration).

Honk Honk Tweet

Honk Honk Tweet

It was  the 2017 KPY Retreat, I was on a nature hike out in the woods with a small group of attendees and I started talking to L.P. Nut: “I can’t stand New York”, I said, “I hate it so much. The people are so rude, they make so much noise, especially the hoking, it is unbearable and the the filth, the way people litter and trash stuff, it is overwhelming…I don’t know what to do, being there makes me so angry.” L.P Nut nodded. A few moments later, he asked me, “Alana do you hear that noise?”  There was a chorus of birds loudly tweeting so I replied, “The birds? Of course.” We walk a few more paces and then L.P. points to a pile of decomposing leaves, “Do you see that pile? Isn’t it dirty?” “Well yes,” I must admit that it is. “Do these things bother you?” L.P. asked me. When I said no, he asked me why? “I guess it is because these birds and leaves are a part of nature.” At which point LP asked me one final question: “Aren’t humans part of nature too?”

In my mind, New York was an abomination, an ABSOLUTE affront to the natural world, to the way things should be and people should live.  This was a ‘fact of life’ that had nothing to do with me; I was just an observer of  NY’s obvious faults, OF COURSE I was perturbed by needing to live with them, who wouldn’t be? But LP’s questions forced me to acknowledge that I was a biased observer, that I was filtering my view of New York through the lens of my own standards.

For me, a car honking is unbearable noise, but a bird tweeting is a soothing lullaby. An overflowing trashcan is filth but a decomposing pile of leaves is ‘the circle of life’. A naturescape and all its animals are good and wholesome while a NY cityscape and all its people are some kind of perversion. These are my arbitrary standards, not innate truths of this world.  Before my conversation with LP, on some level, I was seeing myself as a passive victim forced to live in a state of continual hate and anger– but afterwards  I got the first inkling of understanding that I was in fact the cause of my hate and anger.

 

 

 

 

It’s Never Enough

It’s Never Enough

I took a friend to lunch, trying to console her on the recent loss of her brother. She talked about how relatively young he was when he died and about how she didn’t feel like she got enough time with him in this life, especially at the end. Naturally, I started thinking back to when my own dad died. He was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer when he was just 64 and I was 28. I remember so clearly thinking that I was too young to loose my dad, that I expected to have more time with him.  My stepmom and my dad had been married just 7 years, they were so happy together, she too thought there would be more time. From Dad’s diagnoses to his death was just a few months, my brother and I were shocked, the whole family was, we all felt like there should have been more time…this all got me thinking, if there had been more time, would it have been enough?
Back in university I started dating a guy I knew was transferring out of state in just a few weeks. I was so enamored with him that I didn’t care. Right up until our last day together, I was so sure that I would be content with what I had. That letting go would be easy. After all, from the get go I knew our affair was to be a short one. But, the night he left, when my bed was empty, suddenly I was so sad. I wanted more time, what  I had had was simply not enough.
What about my time with my husband Eric, who I love so deeply? When I imagine ways we could part, do I really believe that  in that moment I am going to think, “well that was just the right amount of time”? What Hallmark movie has a family gathered around their loved one’s death bed saying shit like, “I love you so much, it has been such a great life together but I think I’m about ready to be done with you”? When have I been to a funeral where there was no wailing, or crying, or sorrow, just a bunch of folks who feel satiated, like after a good meal, when you just can’t eat another bite?
When it comes to the things and people I love, it is never enough. I  always want just a little more time, a few more moments. But I live in a world of impermanence, where everyone and everything has an expiration date. And yet, I allow myself to become attached. I keep seeking satisfaction in things which, at the end, have over and over proven that they are not enough to satisfy me. I am like a fool who keeps drinking saltwater and thinking it will quench my thirst…
If It Ain’t Broken You Can’t Fix It

If It Ain’t Broken You Can’t Fix It

A good friend of mine had a brother who had become seriously ill. The truth is, it was a long standing disease — slow progression at first, but suddenly much more severe. It looked increasingly like his death was imminent.  All my friend wanted to do was to help, to find some cure, to put forth effort, to do something, anything, to make her brother better. Her efforts however were fruitless and my friend was inconsolable. Still, I tried to console her. All I wanted to do was to help, find some cure, to do something, anything to make her feel better. My efforts however were fruitless.

One day I was sitting and talking to my friend about her troubled life, her anguish over her brother, and it dawned on me that her brother is suffering, my friend is suffering, I am suffering — there is nothing special, nothing exceptional about any of us. Everyone suffers. Suddenly,  a story from the Buddha’s time popped into my head, it was the tale of Kisagotami (click here to see a short animated video of the story): In brief it is about a woman whose child dies. Devastated, she goes looking for a ‘cure’ and her cure quest ultimately leads her to the Buddha. The Buddha, in his super awesome wisdom, tells the woman (paraphrased here), ” No bigs, I got this, all you need to do is bring me 3 mustard seeds and I can cure your son. One small detail though, the mustard seeds have to come from a house that hasn’t experienced any death”. Off she goes, hunting for mustard seeds. House after house, she inquires, everyone has seeds, but they have all also experienced death in their homes. Finally she sees the truth — there is no family free of loss in this world, no person free from death, this is the mighty truth of impermanence. And so, the Buddhist version of “happily ever after” ultimately ensues and she achieves a level of enlightenment. I shared the story with my friend, but even as I spoke it felt like hollow comfort, it soothed neither her nor I.

Later that night, out of nowhere, I realized there is  wisdom in the Kisagotami story I had never understood before –  when it comes to death, disease, loss, suffering there is nothing broken, so there is nothing to fix. My friend’s brothers illness, the loss of my SF life, the noise, the dirt, the differences in NY that I find so irksome, these things are normal, they don’t reflect a broken wold, nothing has gone amiss. At their root, they are part of the nature of this world–suffering and impermanence. The only thing broken is me, continually believing I can ‘game the system’, solve ‘the problem’ figure out ‘the fix’ that lets me and my loved ones live a a suffering-free, impermanence-free life forever.

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