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A New Layer of That Old Suffering

A New Layer of That Old Suffering

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As I was reviewing past notes, I came across a teaching from LP Thoon that had always really moved me — it is a story in which he instructs a man named Singh on a specific set of contemplations/questions that ultimately result in Singh becoming a Stream Enterer. After re-reading the story, I had a new set of insights on the way my objects cause me suffering. Those insights are presented in the blog below. For those of you who want a recap of the Singh teaching beforehand you can find it in the blog Get Your Grimey Hands off My Teacup.

For a while now I have considered the suffering it takes to acquire an object, to maintain it and then the sorrow I feel when I lose it. But now I see that there is a deeper layer of suffering that lies in my obsession with my objects — my objects force me to come back for them, they continually reignite the cycle of acquisition and loss. My objects are the seeds for my rebirth.

Take my purses for example. I didn’t used to be a purse girl, I used to get by carrying stuff in a backpack, a tote or just my hands. But then I started getting fancier, richer, dressing better, becoming a fashionista, and for a fashionista, carrying my crap around in a recycled grocery bag just wouldn’t do. So I bought a purse, a nice designer one. I worked to find just the right purse (suffering of acquiring); I obsessed over keeping it nice, storing it right, getting it repaired and resealed and never letting it touch the ground (suffering of maintaining); and  when it finally did wear out I was super sad (suffering of loss). And maybe, just maybe, if it all stopped there I would say it was worth the effort, worth the loss to enjoy that purse for a time. But, it didn’t end there…

Enter the deeper layer of suffering; that broken worn-out purse forced me right back to the mall to buy a new one. Now that I was a purse girl, I couldn’t imagine going back, becoming less, so I had to replace the bag with a new one that was at least as nice or better. And when I couldn’t find just what I was looking for I went on a quest, an internet scavenger hunt to replace the bag –to buy as many more as I could– so that I was prepared, that I could do better, the next time it broke.

I think I am in control of my objects. I think I pick out the purse, I manage the bank account, I own the house. But the truth is my shit bullies me. It forces me, it pushes me, it moves me around like a chess piece.  Is this seriously how I want to live? My stuff is like an abusive relationship. I want to think that if a person tried to control me, constantly making demands of me, not loving me back, I would dump them. But then I thought about my ex — Thomas…  

Thomas was super hot, super funny, super likable and super smart. He also, often, treated me like shit. No he didn’t beat me, or yell at me, but he did belittled me, ignore me, toss me aside when it was convenient for him. So why did I stay with him for so long? It seems to me there were 2 main reasons: 1) I built an identity as his girlfriend —  had become his girlfriend, I defined myself in relation to him, I wasn’t as pretty or as funny or as smart as him, but by having him on my arm I could prove my worth, my value, I could own his  good qualities as my very own. What would everyone think if we broke-up? How would it reflect on me if I couldn’t keep a guy like that around?What kind of woman/girlfriend would I be if I just broke it off? 2) I imagined things would get better in the future. I thought that I could change, I could make him change, if I just exerted enough control it would be perfect.

It seems though that the very same delusions that kept me tied to Thomas shape my expectations for, and attachment to, my objects.

1: Objects Build Identity — That purse was the cherry on top of my fashionista identity. All together, each dress, shoe, belt, purse makes me buttoned-up, in control of my image, in control of how others view and judge me. Sure I have never been perfectly skinny, perfectly beautiful, but when I walk into a room with that purse on my arm it proves my worth, my value, I can own its beauty and status as my own.  If suddenly I went back to wearing grocery bags what would people think of me then? How much of a loser would I look like, to let my image slip, to become so careless and junkie? But does a purse really do all that I imagine? There have already been contemplations of black boots,  pink skirts and green purses — none can control other people’s thoughts, none can make me a thing when these very things go and fade.

Back when I was a kid, right through my finishing grad school, my father paid for everything. He was rich and I never wanted for anything; his money made me feel like I had financial cushion, like I was safe. But after I graduated my dad cut me off. I had been rich but was suddenly poor. If the money  were really mine, if I could own its qualities, how could I go from rich to poor?

In fact, sometime my objects, which I think are busy making me what I want to be are actually having the opposite effect. Remember my mooching friends Sandy and Blake? I want so badly to be a good friend, a good person, but my desire to protect my bank account made me a selfish friend. When my clothes don’t fit I look in the mirror and am reminded of my lack of control, of my failings to discipline my body, to manage my life. And let us not forget that time my pants split and a big gaping hole in my ass made me the least fashionable person in the room. And so, its back to the mall I go for new pants, new clothes, new purses, which brings me to…

2: Things Will be Better in The Future — Yes, I know that purse wore-out, but that is why I bought 6 more just like it. So next time I am prepared, next time will beat the purse reaper. The future, through the sheer force of my will, will be different. But it never seems to work because with each purse that wears or dress that gets too tight I am forced right back to the mall, not just to buy another object, but to reassert the control that object going and breaking cost me.

Ultimately, I did  break-up with Thomas. I was just tired of loving someone who didn’t seem to love me back, who couldn’t fulfill my needs, who let me down everytime. Phra Ajan Daeng once warned me: All the objects in this world I am so obsessed with aren’t obsessed with me back. So why do I keep on loving them when they hurt me, when they bully, and push and abuse?

 

The Making of Mineness

The Making of Mineness

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My car had to go  to the garage for servicing so the garage offered to let me borrow one of their loaner cars until mine was ready for pickup. I gave them a credit card, I signed the paperwork, I took the keys and before I knew it I was cruising down highway 101 on my way back home. The car I borrowed was the same make as my own and I noticed quite quickly how easy it was to get used to; all the buttons and signals on the dashboard looked just like the ones in my car, it had all the same features, the seats felt the same, the car performed the same,  it was just like my car and yet … despite all the similarities, the rental car just didn’t feel like mine in my heart. For this Dharma practitioner an obvious question popped into my head — WHY?? And so I began, by process of elimination, to reason through exactly why I felt so differently about my car and a rental.
Its not the function — My car was broken, the rental worked fine. The rental was what was letting me get home, move around town, go on with my life. It was serving me.  Meanwhile my own car was miles away, useless to me. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that mine was mine and the rental was theirs.
Its not the duration — I knew full well I was only going to be driving the rental for a few days at most. Perhaps it was duration that made it seem less minely…but I considered dresses I had bought to wear just  once, to a gala or special occasion, with the full intention to consign or  give them away right afterwards. These were clothes that were with me for only a few short days and yet when I bought them, while I wore them, when I looked at post event pictures, the dresses felt like mine. Mine is clearly not about time…
Its not the formality, the responsibility or the exchange of money — For both my car and the rental, I signed all the right papers, I exchanged money, I assumed legal responsibility. In the eyes of the law, while I was in possession of the rental I had permission to use it and liability for its safe operation and return. All the Is were dotted and Ts crossed for my car and the rental alike and yet, the rental just didn’t feel like mine in the same way as my own car.
It doesn’t live in the object – Clearly I know that ‘minenss’ can’t live in an object; its not like when they take apart the car at the garage they are going to find that little part that is the origin of mine. I had stayed in a hotel recently and someone had accidentally barged into the room we were staying in, I felt so violated, like my space, my room was invaded. And yet, when I checked-out and saw the maid going to clean the room I felt nothing at all.  Same room, but no longer mine, so mine wasn’t in the space. Perhaps though it was in the expectation, the norm …
Its not about social norms — Ah, but everyone knows a rental is a rental and what you buy is yours, maybe mine is in what is the accepted consensus, what is normal. Only just the other day I had been in a coffee shop when a guy left without his hat. He didn’t return for a few minutes so someone else walked-up, grabbed the hat, and said “mine now”. I remember thinking that what he did was stealing, the hat wasn’t his, but he thought it was, he said it was, he walked away with it. If ‘mine’ were somehow a norm it would be well, normal and agreed upon. The truth there are wars over territory different people think of as ‘theirs’, there are divorces and patent disputes and  countless cases where mine isn’t clear, its not agreed upon as a social norms, it depends entirely on the perspective of the claimant. Which brings me to…
Its all in my head — I got to thinking back to a  recent contemplation on smoking where I saw so clearly that my beliefs around the acceptability of smoking in public came down to me, what I wanted, what I believed. Back when I smoked I thought smoking in public was a right, after all the space was public. After I quit and got asthma, I started thinking smoking in public is wrong because the space is public and smoking interferes with people’s ability to share and enjoy the space. The point here is — I make-up the criteria about smoking, about standards. Maybe, just maybe, I am the one that makes up the criteria for mineness as well… after all, its not the function, the duration, the object, the legality or the norm: What else is there really except for what I believe?
I think that hunk of metal, uselessly sitting in a shop out there is mine. I think it exists to do my bidding (ironic since it is in the shop broken) to keep me safe, to get me around in style. I think that it reflects me, that it  proves something about me –its a Porsche after all– it proves I am a Porsche owner, that I did it, I deserve it, it is an extension of me. But I just can’t feel that way about a rental, it proves nothing other than that I rented a car, so it is not mine, my mind just can’t go through the mental gymnastics it takes to  ‘mine-ify’ the rental. But 2 cars, functionally the same — is it possible for 1 of them to make me a thing, to become my thing, when the other cannot?
On Self Reliance

On Self Reliance

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As I started the process of organizing my thoughts, my notes and my stories to write this blog, something became abundantly clear: My practice is a path, it has a particular progression to it.

I suppose, on some level, I always understood that practice wasn’t just a random series of flashes from the darkness. But, it wasn’t until I started to really outline the first chapters of this blog that I saw that new stories built on old stories, new skills and tools built off the ability to use old ones. Crazy… it’s like cause and effect are real and they are playing out in my Dharma practice!! It was this insight, that practice builds on itself, that dove me to create the blog you are reading now — a more-or-less linear series of entries that capture the progression of my practice, that paint an ongoing story about what it means for me to walk this path.

This insight about the linear-ish nature of my practice was also a real confidence booster for me:  For years I fretted over what would happen if my practice “went off the rails”, If Mae Yo wasn’t there anymore to guide me, if I got so lost I couldn’t see my way out (see the blog Mae Yo Q and A). Mae Yo told me I had to be self reliant, that I already was self reliant, that I just needed to keep relying on myself the same way I had up to this point in my practice. I smiled and nodded at her wisdom and then silently kept panicking.

But with this blog, the evidence was laid out plain to see — I had in fact slowly and steadily built up understanding, used old conclusions as scaffolding for what came later.  Shortly after I started this blog I was speaking with Mae Yo and she told me I had all that I needed already in order to figure out how to get myself free. Finally, I believed her. For better or worse, no one can free me but myself…here’s to self reliance.

 

New Beginnings: Life as a Dharma Blogger

New Beginnings: Life as a Dharma Blogger

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Once I had decided to become a Dharma Blogger, I faced an interesting question: What the heck was I going to write about? I started by going back through my very first notebook: reviewing, rehashing, rewriting old stories to turn them into blogs. As I immersed myself in all the old stuff, something crazy happened, I started powerfully seeing so much new stuff in all my old stories; it was like my practice was supercharged, like I was looking at everything I thought I understood with new, fresh eyes.

This next chapter is going to share some of the insights that came-up for me as I prepared the outline and the earliest entries of this blog. As you will soon see Dear Reader, one topic in particular that took on a great deal more clarity when I began to write this blog is Rupa.

Mae Yo always told me to think about Rupa (form); it is after all the foundation of birth in this realm, the starting point for every problem, and a clear understanding of it is the key to attaining the first level of enlightenment. In the early days of my practice I really did try, as instructed, to consider Rupa in each of my stores. Unfortunately, I kinda sucked at it. As I went back to the oldest stores and the oldest instructions I was given by Mae Yo, I was lead right back to Rupa again, this time finding a clarity I simply didn’t have before.

So, as you peak into the earliest days of my life as a Dharma Blogger, be on the look-out for my own personal come-back kids…all those old themes taking on a brand new beginning.

 

Intermezzo 2: What is Sammutti

Intermezzo 2: What is Sammutti

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Dear Reader — this is the second of two exchanges with Neecha that took place around the Dharma Meltdown period which I would like to share prior to entering the next ‘chapter’ of this blog. The entry here is a question about a Buddhist concept called Sammutti, or ‘conventional forms’.

I was helping LP Anan edit his new translation of the Uturn sermon and it prompts me to ask, about a term/concept from the sermon: The term is Sammutti, usually translated as “conventional forms”. I think I have some sense of what Sammutti is, which I will outline below, I was hoping you could just double-check  that I am in the ballpark and not missing anything big…

What Sammutti is: 

My sense is that Sammutti, “conventional forms” is actually a set of views that we hold that create the scaffolding upon which we build our perception of ourselves and the world –it is what gives meaning to our experiences. So its stuff like language, or money, or social conventions such as a smile. A $10 bill isn’t really a thing that holds any innate value, the word “fun” doesn’t actually mean the same thing to you and me, a smile also doesn’t have the same meaning across person, time and space. Sammutti is clearly not ultimately true, but we forget that…when we don’t really consider Sammutti, we take it as true and we rely on it to navigate our lives, to manage our social relationships, to build our sense of self (more on that later).

Moreover, Sammutti seems to be shared with a group, some subset of people we surround ourselves with. Even though, of course, our understanding of Summutti and theirs aren’t actually the same, the shared culture and experiences we base our memory on are close enough that there is overlap. Enough overlap generally that  we imagine that we are speaking about the same thing when we say fun, or that $10 has the same value to each of us, or that I can be confident in how I interpret your smile. The seeming sharedness actually reinforces my view of Sammutti as true; it is something I use as evidence to sell myself the lie it is universal.

Sammutti and the Self: 

So we basically use Sammutti to build our sense of self. Without some convention, some scaffolding, I couldn’t imagine a self I want, a self that is better than others, a self that other people agree is great and reinforce. For example, I want to be beautiful, but beauty only has meaning in terms on Sammutti..in terms of how I define it, and how those around me define it as well (therefore reinforcing the definition I hold in my head). Or I want to be compassionate, again, this gets based on how I see my actions and how I think others precise them as well — in order to be beautiful, rich, compassionate or any other self, I need a yardstick..one that I think is true and one which I feel is also generally accepted outside myself.

But Self itself is sort of Sammutti –it is something we name, something we project, something we see as solid and contestant, but in truth is is constantly changing. Its not really a mass at all, its a collection of ideas, of memories and imaging and feelings and form..but we tell a story of unity, of structure, of singularity..we mistake some type of continuity as real intentness, as a soul, a self. Society, our friends, family, enemies, they treat us as a self as a singular always the same entity and as such, they reinforce.

Clarifying question: What exactly is the relationship between Sammutti and the aggregate of imagination? Is sammutti actually something we imagine ..but more of a shared delusion? 

The role of Sammitti in practice:

My sense is that Sammitti is like soil, a base in this world — if you plant wisdom seeds in it wisdom grows. If you plant defilement seeds in it defilement grows. So, if we use these ideas we have about the world, these balls of solidness (self, other, thing, etc.) and use them to contemplate the 3 characteristics we can be free (I’m guessing Impermanence especially here can help with the problem of the illusion of solid thingness that happens as a result of continuous connected rising and falling??). We can, I suspect, see Sammutti for what it is, a convenient illusion, a convention to name, to categorize, to function in the world, as opposed to an actually real thing.

Anyway, I think I’ll quit while I’m ahead and ask if there is anything further to consider on this. I know this topic is definitely like opening up a watch casing and seeing how the parts move..quite complicated. Still..having a sense of memory and imagination really helped me start to structure my practice. Considering the centrality of the role of Sammutti in this sermon, I wanted to think it through and clarify so I could add this piece as well.  Sometimes, for me, taking a step back and seeing the gears move, it really helps my understanding.
Neecha’s Reply: 

Sammuti is like “pretend” or “suppose” in thai. Like when we say, “sammuti wa chun pai bahn khun,…” (pretend, i were to go to your house,…) In a dhamma sense it means supposed or conventional forms…the terms we use to refer to something just so we can communicate and make sense. so we know we’re talking about the same thing. “suppose we call this X,” then we’re basically sammuti-ing that “X” is the name for that form.

Sammuti and 4s depend on one another.
Intermezzo 1: Question on Focus

Intermezzo 1: Question on Focus

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Dear Reader — this is the first of two exchanges with Neecha that took place around the Dharma Meltdown period which I would like to share prior to entering the next ‘chapter’ of this blog. The entry here is a question  for Mae Yo about focus:

Question: I know that practice has 2 important components, wisdom and focus. I am clear on the wisdom part and, it feels like I become more and more clear on it with time. But the focus part, is not something I think about or practice for very much and the details seem fuzzy. I know that Mae Yo has done Q and As on this before, but perhaps I can ask again for a personal answer since I still am not sure (even if its an answer I need to file for later…I would like to have it).

So specifically I guess I what I would ask about focus is :
1) What exactly is it?
2) Why is it important?
3) How do I develop it?Can this be done in my normal daily life (like wisdom can)?
4) How do I use it in my daily life/practice?
I guess a big part of my question comes from my own experience …I  know that focused meditation is supposed to make a practitioner better able to stay on point and see clearly in wisdom contemplation, but in my own experience, relaxing, napping, walking, these are the activities that usually preceded my having really important insights (after lots of thinking beforehand of course). Or is focus more like a shock to the system..something like the pain that caused dharma Meltdown 2.0, in which case, I was motivated to contemplation quickly and sharply because I knew there was an issue to solve (i.e. is it a light a fire under my but sort of practice?). I know that pain and fear are often talked about as ways to cultivate focus; I am someone with pretty frequent pain (because of my stomach issues) and I used to be in fear almost all of the time, both have been motivations for practice, but mostly because I don’t want the suffering..not because they have (I don’t think) made my mind extra sharp.
Anyway..I was just looking back at some open questions and I wanted to send this one along. Lets just say if there are 2 important aspects to practice…I don’t want to end up with a 50% mark on the exam ;).
Reply from Neecha and Mae Yo: Focus is heightened attention, either to a particular subject or in general.

It’s important, like the sharpness of a knife. You are more precise and effective when focused.
Extreme stress or fear can cause you to focus. You develop it, without extreme fear, by maintaining continuity and your momentum in practice. By constantly contemplating TTP, you are weary of your surroundings, constantly watching yourself, your thoughts, your actions. This is what you already do!
You don’t have to consciously think about using it, the alert focus you have from contemplating on a topic helps you notice anything that relates to that topic. It helps you link them together to form an understanding.
To Close-Out This Chapter On Where We Started…

To Close-Out This Chapter On Where We Started…

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Before we move to the next chapter, present Day Alana, wants to share a few final thoughts. Mostly, I want to admit that the issue of my fear that I am a bad Buddhist has softened, but it is not gone entirely. I still don’t particularly enjoy going to temple and I still feel a bit guilty about it. Sometimes it is because I find temple distracting from my personal practice (too many random topics in a teaching when I already have plenty of my own to consider). Sometimes its just too loud and crowded. But there is the part of me that is afraid of being pushed, of being judged, of having my sense of practice = refuge tainted in some way.

Also, I still feel like a fraud some of the time; I worry when I speak harshly to my family or obsess over the latest beauty trend that someone will find me out as an impostor. Forget someone else finding me out – I worry, in my heart of hearts that I am an impostor. After all, here I am working so hard to walk this path, to make Buddhism the center of my life, and still I am so frivolous, vain and harsh.

But now, I see all these traits, this fear and this guilt, not as evidence that I can’t succeed, but as evidence I really have no choice but to try. So each day I practice, each night I set my intentions for that practice. In waking and in sleep, I hunt for evidence to fix my wrong views, I work to build my wisdom, so that one of these days, no matter if I’m a good Buddhist or a Bad Buddhist I can finally become a free.

Flashback to the Beginning

Flashback to the Beginning

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So Dear Reader, we have finally made the first of our great catch-ups —  here is the moment in my practice’s timeline where I decided to become a Dharma Blogger. Since it was so so so long ago that the prelude to this blog was first published, this week I want to offer a flashback to the beginning. Here it it again, A Prelude to This Blog.

So, Neecha and Phra Anan actually asked me to start this blog years ago (2011). At first I said yes (because who wants to disappoint their teachers?) but then…on second thought…no.  Neecha told me, “We just get so excited about your practice because it progresses naturally and your examples are so clear that we want others to see how it can be done”. But honestly, I just didn’t think I was someone worthy of writing a blog about Buddhism. I certainly had an image in my head of what a Super Buddhist looked like (the kind who wears a nifty get-up, cape optional, and who is worthy of blogging), someone who lives a holy life, someone humble, respectful, gentle in their speech and actions, someone who keeps the precepts flawlessly, someone compassionate and wise, someone entirely unlike me.

I’m just a regular person –I have a husband, a job, a mortgage and a fancy car. I have lots and lots and lots (and lots) of flaws –I can be vain, selfish, greedy, harsh, judgmental, mean to the people I love and owe the most – I have soooo many wrong views about this world and myself in it. But still, I practice.

I practice not in spite of these flaws, but because of them. I practice because these flaws, these traits, they cost me, they pain me and I want to be free. I practice because the more I practice the more clearly I see the cause of these faults, these broken perceptions, and I understand how to start chipping away at them. I practice because, well, it works; without a doubt the Dhamma has made me a less tortured, calmer, kinder, gentler version of myself. But hey, rest assured I’m still plenty crazy (otherwise you would be getting a pretty short blog 😉 so lets call this a work in progress. Finally then, after just a few short years of total delusion, I realized that a well-qualified person to write a blog about being on the path is someone who is, you know, actually on the path so…here I am, one of KPY’s new bloggers.

So maybe, in some cases, this would be a good stopping point. You know the soppy-sweet story; you have the conclusion, that’s the important stuff, right? In fact, from here this entry  does get a little complicated so, if you’re having trouble reading on, if it’s hit the point of snooze,  just skip the rest of this entry and head to the next,  it’s the story that starts my path.  Seriously, that’s a perfectly reasonable option, you can always come back and get here later –I sure did.  

But I did promise you a blog about my path…that is the steps that got me from there to here…so, to be fair, I will start with this (very long) pre-blog and see exactly what misunderstandings  I started to correct that helped me change my mind, my view, about blogging.

Everyday Alana versus the Super Buddhist  –

A: Choose a Side — for a long time I have struggled to reconcile the idea that there seems to be a war going on between 2 sets of desires, one to be super Buddhist Alana and the other to be regular everyday life Alana. On one side, there is some great saintly creature, worthy of the title “Buddhist”, an aspiration Alana really, who has all the “Super Buddhist” qualities I listed above and then some (FYI I would definitely have a cape, can’t pass-up an accessory). Then there is little ole regular life Alana, the wife, employee, crazy flawed person, who still does love my life, love my family, love my stuff, who is just not ready to let go.  But right off, there is a wrong view here:  That I am, I can always be one thing, one Alana ; that I can always be my imagined ideal, that that ideal is even fixed and accurate; that it’s actually better for me to just be that one Alana; that Alanas exist in diametrically opposed pairs and I need to choose one; that it is even about choosing, controlling, exercising my will and –poof — it’s done, I am a certain thing ( do you guys think I can be a fairy princess?) .

B: Who’s making the rules and are they actually fixed– But wait, there’s more…I saw that the idea of a “Super Buddhist”, who plays by certain rules, meets certain criteria, its all in my head. I imagined up what this hero would look like, right down to the cape, and then I proceeded to judge myself against my own creation.  I pretend that if I meet these criteria (which aren’t even fixed anyway), if I could just do a certain set of things, act a certain way, sacrifice enough to get there, then I would be the real deal. So, major spoiler alert (I promise future stories about this with way more detail) but: A) you can’t just become a thing, we change, everything changes, there is no thingness that is permanent and real; B) there is no way to act your way to any ideal: Compassion, Buddhistiness, wisdom, selflessness, etc — these are causes, the actions that follow are the results –you can’t just flip it around.

As for regular Alana, which is also a product of my imagination, my curation, is she fixed? Never to change from being the little ole me I am now? I used to be a vegetarian but now I’m not, I used to be a smoker but now I’m not, I used to dress like a hipster denying my deep love of the color pink – now if you could only see how many heart-shaped pink belts I have in my closet.

C:  Maybe a different, “working definition” of Buddhist (super or otherwise): I really started thinking about what it means, to me, to be a Buddhist and it’s about being on a path. Not just any path however, the path the Buddha laid out for his followers (i.e. Buddhists) to follow. The very first step on the Path (Eight Fold) is Right View i.e. aligning my understanding of the world to reality. Reality is that everything is impermanent, subject to change, to cease, to die, and that woven into the fabric of our lives is suffering , discontent, peril  and consequence, all brought about by our failure to see the world as it really is.

With every story you see here, in everyday of my life, I am constantly trying to pluck out the wrong views, trying to shift my perspective, trying to retrain my mind to see the impermanence I tend to ignore, to understand the costs of my choices, my beliefs. So am I worthy to blog? It really depends on who you ask, whose criteria we are using? But, for me, I finally, came to see how something as seemingly simple as not wanting to keep this blog (plus a ton of other stories, struggles, beliefs and decisions in the last few years) could be underpinned by these strong ,but totally crazy and inaccurate beliefs.  So now, worthy or not, I’m ready.

Meltdown Recovery

Meltdown Recovery

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As I promised, I went home from the retreat and I really considered exactly what my meltdown was about (since a little dirt on pants is usually something I’m pretty calm about) and if my deep dark concerns were really rational. I typed-up my initial analysis and sent it to Neecha. You can read the email below:

Hey Neecha,

I hope you are doing well. I really want to thank you again for being there for me during the great Dharma Meltdown 2.0 last weekend. I have had about a week to triage the situation and, though I realize there are lots and lots of issues at work (like feeling cornered and out of control, unsure about monastic life, being forced, being judged, feeling out of place, wanting to be accepted) it dawned on me that the most urgent and stressful was the exact same view that was taking place in the homeless alana story (also the I don’t want to become a Sotapana story) — there are 2 alanas at war with each other, some ideal angelic alana I want to be and then a more mundane alana that I feel is lesser than the ideal but still something that I am very attached to — one alana “wins” the other “loses” and I am not the me I want to be.

In the homeless alana story, I wanted to be a good compassionate alana who “selflessly” hugs homeless people, but I also wanted to preserve and protect myself from their imagined disease. Meltdown alana wants to be a “good Buddhist”, someone who follows not just the rules but the spirit of the rules, is always at the temple, listens to every sermon, wears the robes,  turns away from the world for a life of practice; but I also want to preserve my life with Eric, the day-to-day activities I enjoy, the pleasures that I see as very un-Buddhist (Korean beauty products and wine …fyi I broke-out so bad from one of the Korean beauty products…not so pretty now) and I’m shameful to taint the “pure” Buddhist with my mundane life. My wrong view at the simplest level is that I can always be one alana, that it can always be my imagined ideal , that that ideal is even fixed and accurate, that its actually better for me to just be that one alana, that alanas exist in diametrically opposed pairs and I need to chose one — whichever I chose now is what I will always be. In reality, an alana, like a plant, has shiny green leaves on top and dirty roots under soil…like a plant the leaves and roots change and grow, wither, die…

But there is even more than that: In Homeless Alana I saw that both the alanas were based on total wrong views themselves. Fearful alana  had an irrational trail of imaginary (#4) permanences that got her from hug to horrible H1N1 death in 2 sec. flat. But compassionate alana was even crazier, she imagined (#4) that she knew what universal, unchanging, compassion looked like (based on my own experiences #3 and desires) , in this case hugs for the homeless, and that if I simply acted in the way I defined as compassionate I would then be, ipso facto, a compassionate person.

So, to bring this to the meltdown — mundane alana imagines that the things I enjoy will always be enjoyable to me, but that they are, somehow, fundamentally un-bhuddist. The only way to become some great Buddhist is intense sacrifice, now, and in my head I imagine staining my new white robes, which I was supposed to be able to keep pristine with my superhuman dharma infused carefulness, with tears over the loss of Eric and the life I loved. Just like homeless alana I have gone from 1 weekend wearing white to living in a cell doing whatever Buddhisty things real Buddhists do 100% of the time. Super awesome ninja Buddhist alana has already imagined that I know exactly what being this great Buddhist looks like (anti-Sotapana Alana had the same problem), what activities are “in” and what are “out” and if, like compassionate alana, I just act the part (that I created using my 3s and 4s and then which I also judge myself by) I am by definition a great Buddhist.

Here’s the thing though… this ideal Buddhist, just like compassion is a concept in my head (created by me in order to serve me). Real compassion, just like real enlightenment, is something you can’t just force by practicing the result. I actually have evidence from my own life: I couldn’t just stop being phobic of everything because I wanted to, or because on the outside I was acting all calm, fear abated when I saw real impermanence; when I tested the matrix over and over and came to see there is really no necessary relationship between what I fear and what actually happens.  Similarly, when I saw that with just one jury summons my joy over not being called earlier in the year turned to regret  since now I was qualified to serve, I saw how my desires, the things that make me happy, are so changeable — as a result I became so much less easily disappointed. Like with clothes, the more I contemplate the rips, the effort to dryclean, the disappointment pulling out from the box and having it not fit, the pain of sending it back, the limitations in the things ability to make me happy or to make me special –lets just say my monthly credit card bill has gone down. And as for compassion, I’m still not exactly sure what it “looks like”, but I look at myself, some one who is so much more forgiving, patient, appreciative, yielding, balanced then I used to be before the dharma.  I look at my relationships which are so much smoother and less contentious, and I have to assume that I am becoming way more “compassionate” than homeless alana possibly was. Ironically, the only Buddhisty thing I have tried that has made a huge difference for me (despite lots of chanting, fake compassion, meditating, mantras, studying, trying pretty unsuccessfully to be a disciplined and self sacrificey-type and feeling guilty about my failings {which went just great for me last weekend}) has been learning to recognize and fix my wrong views.

The reason why the story of the Bodhisattva and the mango tree (MahaJanaka Jataka) was so powerful for me is, I get it. I get how life can be all shades of awesome and one (me) could look at this world, my life, and think its just not worth it. Clearly, I’m not exactly ready yet to take a last wistful glance at my kingdom and head out for an acetic life, but, I do get it. I understand quitting smoking, quitting fishtank keeping, no longer obsessing over Tony’s pizza. I see how my everyday life is actually getting smaller, quieter, its less and I’m less, how I’m more reluctant to get entangled thoughtlessly, how I see the risks, I see the impermanence —everywhere.  The other thing I see is change. Back when I was 23 I remember thinking to myself –I can’t stay living in Nashville, everything closes by 2A.M., I am missing out on life, people, parties, by staying here. Now though, especially late at night,  mostly I just want to be home –alone–in the quiet (I have some theories on why for another day, but the alone and the quiet are definitely side effects of my Dharma practice).  What I want when I want it seems so permanent, but the truth is, what works now, what is appropriate now may not be tomorrow.

I know there is a lot more to go on this issue. I have a real deep-seeded tendency to think dualistically. Its yes or no, all or nothing. Happy space over there, suffering over here; exciting on trip, boring at home; stuff is right or wrong and I can judge; Mom is  bad guy I am vulnerable hero; Seth is an evil carnivore, I am a moral and lovable vegetarian, etc…In someways, this mental strictness works for me, it protects my sense of specialness, value, and makes me feel justified in my belief I deserve cookies not crap. The duality also helps me preserve the hope, the sense of worth-it-ness in the world, it parses the happiness from the sorrow and lets me compartmentalize, fantasize the possibility of one completely removed from the other, the perfect life. This past weekend though it did me no favors, I was in so much pain, I still feel a bit shaken by that level of emotion. And for peril… what if it caused me to give-up, to say since I can’t today be the Ninja Buddhist of my fantasy  now, better to turn-in the membership card all together. And while, I know, like seeing that optical illusion and not being able to unsee it, I can’t really go back, I can’t really quit seeing impermanence and suffering all around, I could humph around licking my wounds for a while and waste time instead of using this experience to further my practice.

Anyway, this at least is a start and a relief. Thank you thank you thank you again for being my Dharma friend even though there is leaf and roots…clarity and definitely lots of crazy.

Warmly,

A

 

 

 

Total Dharma Meltdown 2.0

Total Dharma Meltdown 2.0

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Mini Retreat Day had arrived and, encouraged by my grapes Ubai and my Outline to Enlightenment, I decided to put my big girl pants on and attend. Those pants however were not white. Instead, I wore pale beige – something I hoped was modest, appropriate and respectful, but not the white of the precept takers because I still didn’t feel ready to take those vows.

The first night went smoothly enough, but trouble started in the morning. After a sermon LP Anan sent us into the park to spend some time contemplating on our own. I sat down on a tree trunk and wrote furiously in my notebook. When I got up and looked down, I saw I had dirt and tree bark all over my beige pants. I freaked the fuck out!

In those stained pants I saw ‘evidence’ of my own unworthiness a practioner. It was proof I didn’t belong. I already knew I wasn’t ready to wear white, but I couldn’t even manage the care and precision required to keep beige clean…what hope did I have of ever being ready, pure, worthy enough for white? This dirty Alana outside was just a metaphor for a dirty Alana inside and here it was, my dirtiness, exposed for all to see and to judge.

In that moment I was ready to run, to quit, to slip away quietly and never ever go back to the Wat again. And I probably would have except…years ago, I made a promise to Mae Yo and Neecha, I promised that if I was ever thinking of quitting my practice I would talk to them first. Ugh, promises, but I do try to keep mine, so I headed back inside to find Neecha for a chat.

I managed to make it as far as siting down face-to-face with Neecha before I burst out into tears. Wailing about how unworthy I am, how bad a Buddhist I am, what a failure it is that I can’t /won’t take the 8 precepts, I pointed to my pants as proof of all this…

Once I had calmed down, Neecha and I started to talk. She offered me a few thoughts off the bat:

  1. told me to look at who else isn’t taking the precepts this weekend – several other strong, well respected practioners, including Neecha herself, had chosen to forego the precepts for this retreat. Each person had their reasons – needing to be flexible for others, family commitments etc. Fine I accepted, but pushed back that my reasons (not being ready) felt less worthy, less legit.
  2.  Neecha went on to explain that truthfulness/ keeping your word are important trait for a practioner. That I take vow taking seriously isn’t necessarily the mark of a ‘Bad Buddhist.’ This started making me feel a little better, so she when on…
  3. What exactly is a ‘Bad Buddhist’ anyway she asked? Sure, if it is coming to the Wat every Sat and taking the precepts then perhaps I was a bad Buddhist, if it is doing the work to discover the truth of this world in my everyday life than perhaps I wasn’t such a bad Buddhist afterall. There are as many definitions as there are people to define, why an I so stuck on just one definition – the vow taking, temple going, superhero? And why should I let myself feel forced to become it if its not my definition/what I want?
  4. She also reminded me that neither her, nor MaeYo had always looked the part of the perfect Buddhists either; I did recall stories I had heard of way back, before I started coming to the Wat, of a much harsher Mae Yo and Neecha.

By this point, I had started seeing the contours of some of my wrong views just enough that  made another promise – I would go home and really consider this issue before I turned-in my Buddhist resignation letter. Clearly, I didn’t end-up resigning so stay tuned…

Time Out: An Outline To Enlightenment

Time Out: An Outline To Enlightenment

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So Dear Reader, in case you have not already noticed, I am a woman who likes control. And what better way is there to control than having a plan 😉? Obviously, this blog is filled with stories about my lack of control –of my best laid plans ruined by all sorts of stuff. But, being a planner isn’t all bad, it has helped me be a systematic thinker, an outliner, a big/small picture integrater. Its no surprise that at a time I really felt my practice was shaky, out of my control, I decided to ‘take stock’, review a little, and come-up with what (at the time) I felt was a solid outline to enlightenment. The blog below is a copy of that outline, which at the time served an important function of restoring a bit more confidence to my practice.

 

I. Truth of Suffering: The life I have/world isn’t that awesome

          A. Impermanence

                    1.  Even awesome shit I have dies and fades

                      2. The way I perceive this world, the way I remember it and imagine it is not accurate. Its one sided. I have the false permanent that my current perspective is right and fixed

                    3.   My control to get the outcome I want is limited too. When my wants change, things change, items change, circumstances change, how can I be in control? Deeper still: Everything arises based on a cause. Causes are a countless number of factors that come together. The factors each are fleeting, humans are but a single one, we are not omniscient or powerful enough to change, alter and control them all. This is why ultimately I  can’t control.  It defies the law of cause and effect.

          B. Suffering

                      1 Is it worth it? How much does it cost me to stay in this world? What is the pain to pleasure trade-off? Can I see the way the pain contours the pleasure? Even Buddha could not separate sukkah from dukkah so he returned Sukkah to its rightful owner–Dukkah.

                      2 Am I really going to “get something new” next time? I need to kill the hope. The hope for some great lifetime free of suffering or of some perfect world. Some time/space, where even if there is suffering, its controlled, hedged, I manage the type, the extent.

II. Enlightenment — no matter how much it freaks me out, feels unattainable or I am not ready for it — is not the problem

           A.   Just because enlightenment is is an unknown state, it doesn’t mean I need to feel so afraid of it. Specifically, there is no necessary reason to fear that by becoming enlightenment I will just lose myself and what I love (after all, Mae Yo and Neecha still have their family)

                    1 Gather evidence to see that in the past I have encountered unknowns and they weren’t all bad. For example, when I moved away from Texas I was so sad/afraid. I didn’t want to leave the temple, the house, my life and friends. But now, in SF I am so much happier and better off.  I found a Dharma path that works so much better for me. I have a nicer home, better job, new friends, etc.

                    2 Examine if keeping my sense of “myself” intact and as it is is actually so desirable — Back when I had a more troubled relationship with my Mom I felt like I had to defend “myself”; the relationship had to be on my terms, I had to stand my ground and not yield at all. But as the relationship has improved I am open to new terms and  don’t need to fixate on self protection all the time. Things are so much smoother now.

                   3  Consider the possibility that the life/perspective that I have now may be what I’m used to, but its not necessarily ‘normal’. It is true I don’t know how to be any other way, but does that make the way I am acceptable/preferable? What about people who live in war, poverty, illness and know nothing else — is it better for them to remain in circumstances they are used to just because they are used to it?  Blindness ts not the preferred state,  but if someone has been blind all their life should they want to stay that way just because it is what they are used to?

B. Overcome the idea I’m innately  not worthy of enlightenment.. That I simply am incapable of getting there

1 Don’t worry about If I’m there yet, good enough, dharmaey enough, they are my terms, they are my standards. Just do it ..follow the guide, change my views, and the results will come. It will look like whatever it does.  Its not really about me at all…It’s the nature of things. Remember when Neecha compared becoming a sotapana to putting on glasses when you need them: Once the glasses are on, I will see more clearly, it is just a matter of cause and effect.

 

Grow Little Grapes. Grow Damn You!

Grow Little Grapes. Grow Damn You!

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It was a beautiful sunny afternoon and Eric and I decided to go for a drive to Napa. We were cruising along, top down, and I noticed the usually lovely, leafy vines were pretty barren. “Ah, of course, its winter” I thought to myself. Its not yet the time for grapes.

Suddenly, an image –- an ubai — popped into my head, of a farmer standing in the fields yelling at the grapes: “Grow little grapes. Grow damn you!” he screamed. “I water you, I fertilize you, I keep the pests away, do your fucking job and grow already!”

“Ha, stupid farmer I thought”.  Up until I realized, that farmer is me, and that monster voice that lives in my head. My monster is telling me to be ready to ordain, or at least take the 8 precepts. It says, “Grow Alana. Grow Damn You! You have been practicing for years, you have gone to retreats, teachings, you keep your notebook and do your homework, so now go get fucking enlightened already.“

Obviously, the idea of a farmer yelling at their crops is ridiculous. A farmer’s job is to do their best to help their crops grow. But, after they have watered and fertilized and pest protected, a farmer’s job is done.  A grape will ultimately ripen in its own time, according to factors way outside of a farmers control. All the yelling in the world simply won’t help.

Why should I think an Alana, moving toward the ripening of my dharma path, is any different?

Not being ready isn’t an indictment, it is not proof that a grape is a bad grape or that an Alana is a bad Buddhist. It is simply a particular state, an unripe state, that is subject to change when the circumstances are right. And, just like a farmer yelling at a grape isn’t going to make it ready to harvest any sooner, my monster yelling at me is not going to make my wisdom ripen any faster.

But, there is another side – that of the grapes themselves (versus of the farmer/monster yeller). I am so concerned that a friend, or a teacher, will push me too far. Demand more than I can give and somehow force me to be more Buddhisty than I am ready to be. But, for all the farmer’s yelling, the grapes go unchanged. The truth is, no one has ever changed my heart, made me other than what I am, until I was ready for a change. Trust me, I would have quit smoking years before I did if someone else was able to change my heart…This fear that someone really could push me beyond where I am ready to go ignores the basic principles of cause and effect. Plus, would it really be so bad if my friends and teachers could just push me into enlightenment? Just one little shove…

And with these thoughts, the monster quieted down and took a little time-out. So stay tuned for the next bog – Timeout: An outline to enlightenment

the monster that lives in my head

the monster that lives in my head

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A close friend from the Temple and I were carpooling to work one morning when she asked the fateful question: “Hey Alana,  are you planning to be at the mini retreat, the one where we will all take the 8 precepts and stay at the Women’s Center?” Those were basically her actual words, but what I heard was a secret message, roared in a loud, monstrous, voice saying something like, “if you don’t go to this thing, you are a bad Buddhist, and I know, you don’t want to go. Afterall, you never come to temple. In other words…you are a bad Buddhist. Bhaaaaadddddd Buuuddddhist, bad, bad, bad.”

When I looked over at my friend, she looked like her normal sweet self, not like a huge angry monster; I realized quite quickly that my friend wasn’t the monster, the monster was living in my head. What took a little more time — which is the contemplation I will share in the next few blogs — was figuring-out just where that monster came from and how to uproot the wrong views that had to be uprooted in order to get it to leave.

So, to be clear from the start: I absolutely did not want to go to this retreat. Most of all, I didn’t want to be dressed-up all in white like some good, pious, practitioner when I felt like just a regular old, non pious, person. The problem was, a part of me felt like I should want to go, or that even if I didn’t want to go I should do it anyway. Going, particularly going when i didn’t want to go, made me a good Buddhist and not going proved what I already ‘knew’ — I was a bad one.

There was clearly a lot going-on with the angry, conflicted monster in my head, so it took many days to actually break-down my beliefs/main issues into broad categories. Here I will share those and in upcoming blogs we will see more about how I challenged those views with the truth (impermanence).

1) I’m not ready — so Dear Reader, there is a little something you ought to know about me: I’m not a half-in kinda gal. If I commit to doing something, I do my damndest to do it. So, I am super careful about just what I commit to. In my mind, taking 8 precepts, even just for a weekend, is super serious. It reflects a commitment to practice, in a particular, non-lay person-ey, way thats a huge deal.

In my mind, to wear the outfit and take the vows, without the appropriate level of commitment –of feeling in my heart that it reflected where I saw myself/life/practice — was fraudulent. The problem however was that I felt terribly guilty about not being ready. I felt like I should be. That by not being, it proved that I wasn’t a good practitioner and that I never would be. Because –wrong view spoiler alert —  what I am today is proof of what I always will be.

2) I felt like I was being asked to push harder/more/faster than I was capable of — Truth be told, in the car with my friend wasn’t the first time I heard that angry/ judgmental monster voice. I had been hearing it a lot lately when I listened to teachings coming from the Wat. Everytime I heard about the need to be more restrained, more careful, to have moral dread over the consequences of my actions, my mind was pushing back; that monster started roaring while a little, desperate voice kept saying I am doing the  best I can do, I literally can’t do any more. I felt like the drill sergeant monster was standing over me kicking me and screaming at me to do just 1 more push-up, but my body literally wouldn’t/ couldn’t do it. Which brought me to number 3….

3) If I couldn’t do more and what I was doing wasn’t enough, I felt like I had only 2 options:

Option 1 — Just keep doing what I was doing and hope that with practice, training, chiseling away at my wrong views, I would one day be able to do more. Just like working out every day means slowly being able to do more push-ups. A part of me felt like the work I had done on my practice already showed results, that I had evidence I should just stay the course…but I felt like this side of my mind was under attack. Like my practice was under attack and that I had to protect it, nurture it, still see it as a refuge…otherwise that increasingly loud monster was going to push me to option 2.

Option 2 — Give-up.If I really couldn’t do more and what I did wasn’t enough, why keep practicing at all? Why put the work, time, energy and struggle into something that can’t be accomplished.  Spoiler alert #2 — just because something can’t currently be accomplished, it doesn’t mean it can’t be accomplished at all/ever. Inputs change and outcomes too, but more on that later… In that moment, as I weighed going to the retreat or not, I really worried that a weekend at the Wat , which felt like doom and gloom anyway, surrounded by people in  white cloth (that there was no way in hell I was going to wear) was going to be the push that pushed me to quit practice all together.

4) But other people do it so shouldn’t I  —  other people, like my dear friend, were going to the retreat and they seemed excited to take the precepts. In fact, these folks go to the Wat all the time and seem to love it. I, even when I am not feeling so doomy/gloomy, prefer to practice alone, to follow my own topics and experiences. I sometimes just find so much group practice/teaching overwhelming. But … I’m a Bad Buddhist… maybe if I were like them I would be a better Buddhist. So maybe I just need to suck-it up and sacrifice.

5) Real Buddhists sacrifice — A deep dive into why I feel sacrificing for sacrificing’s shake is the pinnacle of goodness and hence Buddhistiness is an analysis of another time (Spoiler alert #3 it is definitely a wrong view however whereby I think 1 approach, sacrificing, is always the best and that what I read as being sacrificial, and hence good, in other peoples’ actions is even a sacrifice from their perspective). Suffice it to say that I recognized this pattern in my thinking and it lead me to the the pretty ridiculous catch-22 that if other people could do it I should be able to as well (spoiler alert #4 –I of course don’t know anything about other people’s motivations, or their results and there is no way to know that what works for you will also be the exact thing that works for me). If I just bucked-up and do something I didn’t enjoy/ did not believe in/ didn’t feel right then I would gain “credits” toward being a good Buddhist, as long as I didn’t become so overwhelmed of course that I quit practicing all together…

Coming-up next time…a little Ubai — a small crack — through which I could begin to chip away at these beliefs and the wrong views that underlaid them…

   

Alana the Bad Buddhist: A Prelude to This Blog

Alana the Bad Buddhist: A Prelude to This Blog

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Well Dear Reader, we have finally arrived at the beginning — the events/thoughts that immediately preceded the very blog you are reading now. I’ll set the scene for you…

The time was early 2016 and my practice was gliding along quite smoothly. Until, it suddenly wasn’t: A close friend from the Temple and I were chatting and she asked what seemed like a simple question, “Alana are you coming to the upcoming retreat? We get to dress in white, keep the 8 precepts and stay at the women’s center. I’ll be there.”

I know my outside voice said something in reply, but it was the voice in my head that was really screaming, “run, get-out, break-free, you don’t belong here, this is so so so totally not you.” And so began the second major meltdown of my dharma practice: Alana,The Bad Buddhist  (the first, if you want a reminder is recapped in the blog Screw, This Dharma Thing.)

This will be a pretty short ‘chapter’ that covers some of the contemplations around those Bad Buddhist days that culminated in the starting of this blog.

 

The Danger of Blind Spots

The Danger of Blind Spots

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In my endless quest to be beautiful, I stumbled upon what I thought was the holy grail — Korean beauty products. Snail serums, vitamin C-masks, kojac sponges, oh my! I did so much research,  carefully scrutinized ingredient lists, read reviews: I knew, for sure, the green tea mask I picked-out was going to make me look like a 20 year old again.

1 week after I started using the mask though, I started getting these little white bumps all over my face. I knew something was wrong, but I already had a solution at home — green tea mask. Green tea after all is a potent antioxidant, so I started using the mask twice a day. The bumps got worse so I started cutting-out my old products, thinking I had developed a sudden allergy to a cream or a wash.

What in the heck was causing these bumps? It literally took weeks before I realized what you, Dear Reader, probably think is obvious — it was the green tea mask. Sure enough, after I stopped my skin soon cleared-up.  

But, all this begs a question: Why in the hell did it take me so long to figure-out that the green tea mask was causing the bumps?

I tend to think of myself as someone who is good with natural remedies. I am knowledgeable about healing herbs and other ingredients. Plus, I am a hell of a researcher, I can dig through data and sort fact from fiction. I knew green tea was a “good” ingredient with powerful anti-aging properties. My belief in what I thought I “knew” was so strong that I literally ignored evidence to the contrary even though it was written all over my face. I had a blind spot.

Everyone who drives knows exactly what a blind spot is — its a space that, because of your orientation or your perspective, you just can’t see. But, just because you can’t see something, it doesn’t mean there is nothing there!

This whole Peeking Over the Fence chapter is filled with stories about the lies I believe and truths I ignore: ‘Deserve’ protects me from poverty, smoking laws should follow my personal habits/preferences,  other people are at fault for my sexual misdeeds, my kitchen is always clean and my expectations are always going to be met. I am a special little tree, exempt from decay, free of from the 8 worldly conditions, on an always up-and-up trajectory getting richer and more beautiful by the day.   

The thing is, when in a car we all know we need to be mindful of blind spots because what you can’t see can cause you harm.Time to lead life a little more eyes-wide-open Alana, because my blind spots are going to come and bite me in the ass…or the face, as the case may be. 

Not So Sweet Revenge

Not So Sweet Revenge

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It was that not fun time again; time to take my car in for servicing. Since the vehicle was under warranty, I had to go to a dealership and that left me with a tough choice to make — do I go to  the far away dealer in the South Bay where I had bought the car? Or, ugh, to those assholes in Brisbane, a dealership a good 1 hour closer, but damn their customer service sucks.

You see, I already ‘knew’ those Brisbane guys sucked; when we were test driving cars, we went to their dealership first, but they treated us like total crap, ignored us, were rude, and so we left, drove an hour south and bought our car from the South Bay dealer. Still, an hour is an hour, and so I begrudgingly emailed Brisbane for a service appointment. Shocker —  no one got back to me. It took 3 more emails, and a world of frustration, just to finalize a service date.

My heart was aflame with rage when I started thinking, “I need to go write a yelp review of these guys so I can give them exactly what they deserve.” I opened up my yelp account, but just before that Demon Revenge took over my typing fingers, I started to think…”Either these folks are really terrible business people or my situation was an exception. If they are terrible business people, do I really need to write a review? Other customers are likely to have a similar experience, they will stop going and the business will suffer without any help from me. Or, there are folks like me, that chose to go there for something other than good customer service, i.e. convenience, proximity, cost…In these cases, no review I write about customer service will sway them from going to this dealership.

On the other hand, if I was a one off, some exception..what’s the point of writing a review? If normally they are great they will have plenty of customers who return independent of what I say. Plus, I make mistakes sometimes too..I wouldn’t want folks judging my work, my abilities,  based on one mistake I made..why should I do that to others.

At the end of the day, service at the dealership isn’t about me at all. Writing a review, taking my revenge, is, at best, some super small factor in the dealership’s success/ failure anyway. The guilty party here is me: I let some car dealership (later day note: really myself disguised as the idea of this particular car dealership) plant a poison seed — vengeance — in my heart. And when that seed grows, I alone get stuck with its bitter karmic fruits.

 

The Perils of Being a Pampered Pooch

The Perils of Being a Pampered Pooch

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Background: There was a period of time in which LP Anan was using Aesop’s Fables as a tool to encourage students to think about Dharma; fables are a great way to help people see 2 sides of a story, to internalize, to become critical in identifying main points and themes. The contemplation I am sharing here was not one of these specific fable-related exercises, but rather my thoughts after hearing a Buddhism class recording in which students were discussing The Story of the Ass and the Lapdog.

The story went something like this: A master had 2 animals, a donkey and a lapdog. The donkey worked hard for his master and was treated well, but not nearly as well as the beloved lapdog. The donkey looked at the lapdog and thought to himself, “I toil all day in the field, but that dog just stays home and plays…how is it the dog is treated and fed better than me.” So the donkey,  decides he will act like the dog in hopes of getting the same reward. When he returns home from the field that day, the donkey runs over to the master, jumps in his lap and begins making noise. The master, of course, is not amused and he beats the donkey off his lap.

In the class discussion, folks were almost universally inclined to call the ass the protagonist of the story, to sympathize with a beast of burden not getting his due. But when I heard the story my thoughts went elsewhere…

I couldn’t help but think of the hardships of life as a lapdog; the tremendous hidden costs. Lapdogs lack ‘useful skills’ so their life is wholly dependent on their master. After all, you can’t expect a little dog to go out in the field and make a living or for it to know ‘the ways of the world’ enough to live in the forest with the forest animals. As a being so dependent on their master, a little dog always needs to be vigilant; alert to the master’s needs and how to meet them. If the master wants to cuddle and play, the little dog has no choice but to cuddle and play. If the master wants to be alone, the little dog has no choice but to go elsewhere. A little dog knows its value is in its cuteness/ adorableness, so it  lives with constant pressure to stay adorable always — but in this world, everything is subject to decay — will the little dog still be loved and cared for when it is ugly and old, when it can’t run as fast or jump as high to play? Plus, folks tend to look at a lapdog as frivolous and pampered, not an animal to be taken seriously.

On the outside, it may look like a lapdog has a charmed life, but trust me, I know, lap dogs are not free. You see Dear Reader,  if I am to be totally honest, I am just like that lapdog. I have been cared for, pampered, my whole life. First by my father and then by my husband. Even beyond that, I have always looked for, and been able to attract, lovers and caregivers. Rather than honing ‘useful skills’ like cooking or cleaning or a decently paying vocation, I have honed beauty, sensuality, charm,  wit, and adaptability, as currency for care. Please, please don’t get me wrong I have had loving, sincere and wonderful relationships with my dad, my hubs, and so many other lovers and friends along the way. And yet, I can’t help but empathize with the lapdog in this story and its lovely, gilded, cage.

I suppose though, I also feel for the donkey. The donkey looks ‘over there’ to a different option, another life, and thinks, “that looks better, I want that over there.” Just like I do when I see something I want (like a new life in NYC), some other possibility, the donkey sets its intention and starts scheming for ways to become that dog. How many lifetimes will a donkey focus, work and train to become a dog? How many did it take me? In the end thought it seems we have both found the same thing…new suffering in a new life.  

 

Thoughts On Being Entitled Part 2

Thoughts On Being Entitled Part 2

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This blog is a direct continuation of the last, Thoughts on Being Entitled Part 1, if you have not yet read that blog please go back and do so now before reading onward.  Thoughts on Being Entitled Part 1 was from an email I sent to Neecha, in this blog I will share her response and some of my further thoughts.

Neecha’s Response:  

It’s a crazy, complex cycle. I think that we carry a strong foundation of memory over from previous lifetimes, and we build upon it in each lifetime. There’s the whole nature vs nurture element, too. Some things we learn from our culture, our communities, those we admire. But we don’t pick up on all things. Our brand of personality is drawn towards certain things and repulsed by others, but not always. In this way, our identities are very complex, always changing. However, one thing tends to stay the same- we put ourselves first (even when it seems we are sacrificing, we are advancing the view that we are good or we are better than those who can’t make the sacrifice). We are obsessed with self preservation, whether it’s our perceived belongings and comfort, or the person we see ourselves as.

So what can we do about it? Identify the Tuk tok pie (suffering) inherent in the root personalities we are trying to preserve, dig up all the good and bad that stem from this personality, and don’t let it dictate how we live our lives anymore.

Alana’s Final Reply/Thoughts:

This topic keeps growing for me but I have a sense I’m on the right track. I notice that all my big ah-ha moments start when I see that the way I have been thinking about something is so illogical its just ridiculous…

Kinda like this:  All this judgement, which stems from me, is a way I try to give order and make sense of the world. It helps me feel safe because it means I can create rules, follow my own rules and therefore deserve a cookie at the end for being awesome (or I give myself a pass by changing the rules mid course, or I explain away all the times I get crap instead of cookies as random, or someone else’s fault, or stuff that needs a redo). This takes place only in my mind though totally removed from reality. In reality, things are sometimes “messier then acceptable” and the world keeps turning. People I deem unworthy get cookies and people I deem worthy get crap. There are actually rules that govern this world — the 3 characteristics and karma — and they really don’t need any interjection from me at all.

Meanwhile, as a result of all this story telling, I end up with a personality that is harsh and judgmental. The suffering is clear and honestly it’s not how I want to live anymore. It takes so much mental and emotional energy to constantly judge…it hurts me and it hurts my relationships. Plus, it’s the seed of vengeance; this idea that it’s somehow my job to uphold rules and order, it keeping me tethered to so much. Now thought I’m starting to see this for what it is, a trap that I can start trying to avoid by being aware of its mechanics, by noticing it and not just accepting it but thinking through when I feel harshness arise, by noticing the TTP.  

Thoughts On Being Entitled Part 1

Thoughts On Being Entitled Part 1

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This post is from an email I sent to Neecha summing-up some of my thoughts on expectations/ standards/ entitlement. 

The Situation:

I overheard a donor asking my boss for a “favor”, which I thought was over the top, and my inside voice just said…”ugh, that donor is being such a &*%^. Just because they give a few thousand bucks, it doesn’t mean they deserve anything they want. They are acting so entitled.”

So I went out on my lunch break and started considering ‘entitled’. When I got out the door I was passed by someone smoking on the street and I thought yuk –people shouldn’t be allowed to smoke in public places, its a health hazard (in other words, I am entitled to breathe safely in public). Then it hit me, back when I used to smoke I thought I should be entitled to smoke everywhere, especially in public (because well duh..its public), it was my ‘civil right’. Somehow, over just a single issue, in one life, I have felt entitled both to smoke and to be free of smokers in public.

I act entitled all the time… so, 1) whats the wrong view (specifically over the concept of entitlement, rather than my interpretation of any particular behavior as entitled) 2) how do I sell myself the lie 3) why do I do it  4) whats the harm:

It’s not really TRUE true:

Smoking makes it perfectly clear that the acceptability of smoking (and the laws I think should be enacted) are based entirely on me, on what I want, and what I do. I pretend that they are permanent, coming from some absolute source on high, but in truth it’s just me and it changes based on what I want at any given time.

Dirty kitchen is in fact the same issue, though for dirty it is a matter of degree instead of a smoking allowed yes/no. I set the standards for where dirty begins and the standards actually change by circumstance. When I was younger, a pile of clothes on the floor would not have been dirty, but now I find it unacceptable. Even better, my “dirty kitchen” is less disgusting than someone else’s (because it’s mine..we’ll get back to this). The idea of dirty is impermanent but I superimpose my own judgement at any given instant and trick myself into believing it’s TRUE.

What are the mechanics–how do I sell myself an unTRUE truth?

In each case I create definitions and rules of what is acceptable in order to serve me. I base them off my own experiences and what I am used to (#3) and then imagine they are absolute (#4)…I use my imagination to forget that I was the one who created them in the first place (Question: Neecha –am I missing something here..any elaboration on my thoughts about the mechanics you can recommend?) . My definitions/standards justify my desires (a way desire tricks me) and my actions, making what I want/do (cleanliness, or smoking laws) entirely reasonable in my own mind (this is a weird feedback loop–I create the definitions and then judge reasonableness in light of the definitions I create. I draw evidence,selectively, from my own experiences and from what is culturally acceptable in order to further buttress the sense of reasonableness).

This brings me to the Why do I do this? This follows on a whole lot of previous contemplation, especially on the topic of self and self belonging, but in a nutshell it seems to be about preserving myself –either my sense of identity or my physical body.

I notice that none of the stories I tell myself, the rules I create around right/wrong, in this case entitled/untitled, come out of thin air. They all trace back to me..to how I want to see myself. To the stories I need to tell in order to protect me, preserve my sense of self and well being.

In the case of the donor request — something that has weighed on me a lot as I got a little more money was that I didn’t want to become a rich witch. I have met many of them (#3) and I never wanted to feel like money made me into someone “entitled”, which in this case I read into behavior that I see as inconsiderate.  So when the donor called with his request..I immediately thought I’m not that, I’m better than that. The story served to build my confidence that I had not turned into something I consider”bad”, a rich witch that I don’t want to be.

I have been thinking about panhandlers a lot lately too–I ask myself why I should give them change? Why they are entitled to it? Same thing with my old freniemy Sandy…why should I just let her mooch? When I dig deep though I see that I am someone who depends on others for financial support, I am someone who is “taken care of”. In this lifetime first by my Dad and then Eric…I’m guessing this goes back a bit further. I need to justify why I am worthy of care, entitled to support, why I have something better/more to offer than Sandy and the panhandlers. I need to use them, just like I did the donor, to be better, to justify my specialness.

To the issue of smoking and mess, I want to protect my physical self. Now that I have asthma, I don’t want to be near smoke so suddenly the rule is its a public health issue (before I had the identity of a cool smoker so I didn’t want any rule to infringe on my ability to look cool in public –so much for being considerate of all the nonsmokers around me). For mess, its really about what is safe..is it clean or is it disease-y (not that appearing clean/messy  always = health safe anyway). My own mess seems more known, something more under my control, so by my definition it is cleaner (safer) than the restaurant kitchen.

The more I think through stuff in this way, the more I feel sort of foolish..I get the sense that its so sad that I put so much effort, so much elaboration, into creating a sense of permanence, into preserving what I have, when its really impossible..its a no win. Still though… I persist. I still can’t fully convince myself that the efforts are totally futile, I take the evidence of limited control, some limited duration and I cling on to it.

My sense of self, the rules and standards I create just to keep it safe are so strong and tricky…but really, when I am judgmental, harsh, “throwing stones” outwards…its just me, the problem really isn’t out there at all…even just practically speaking, I’m not sure I’m even the me I want to be in cases like these.Then there is the cost…

The Cost:

As I have already elaborated before, the biggest one is that I commit so much energy to preserving this self that I get exactly what I want…more lives, more becoming and more suffering that comes along with it.

Moreover, there is a danger to building lies (like definitions of me-ness, absolutes of rules, judgments of what is right and wrong) and convincing myself of them. I keep thinking of the octopus frying clip LP Anan posted, all those folks grilling the animal alive. I think they tell themselves lies to make that behavior OK in their mind. What about me, what lies do I tell and what is the karma I create doing so (this is part of a much bigger topic I am working on–what techniques does desire use to convince me)?

For the examples just here, I know I don’t like judge-y people, folks who make arbitrary rules, so how much do others like me when I do it? I think I am entitled to certain things — like support from Eric and my parents — but then I act complacent, I don’t have appropriate gratitude. I risk the very relationships that I perceive as being a source of safety for me, which is ironic since the whole point of my story telling it to be safe and preserve.

I actually have concrete examples of this: Back when Eric and I started dating he spent hours in the kitchen making a special dessert for me. When he was done and I tried it my first comment was “the nuts aren’t chopped finely enough.” Ugh, it still breaks my heart that I was such a bitch — here is someone who spent so much time and effort to be kind to me and I could express only judgment rather than thanks.

Or I think that my Mom, who could have left me out in the elements to die, instead cared for me, fed me, vaccinated me and helped with my science fair projects. I spent years thinking that was normal, is was what I deserved — the minimum –so I was thankless. But, how many more births can I go getting cared for if I’m behaving thanklessly to my caregivers?

Plus, there is just my sense of discomfort that is self created…I feel ickey in the face of dirty, slighted at the thought of injustice. If I could just open up my definitions a little, reset those conditions, how much less could I suffer day-to-day?

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