Alana's Dharma Blog

Yup, I admit it, Vampire Diaries, The Originals, Charmed … I have a slightly unnatural love for the teeny bopper drama. The thing is these shows — rife with the undead, the supernatural, the witches, zombies, werewolves and end times — do double duty: 1) they are easy and fun to watch and 2) they make for excellent dharma contemplation. Seriously, the characters are so flat, the themes so black and white, the dharma lessons pop-out in the contrast. Which brings me to the season finale of my favorite 2014/15 show, The 100s.

Show recap: A group of humans (the 100s) left earth in ships to avoid ‘the end of the world’ and lived in space for several generations. Upon returning to earth these humans find others who had managed to survive a great apocalyptic event, including a community who lived underground. Initially, members of the underground community and some of these 100s folks became friends and lived together peacefully in the underground bunkers. But soon we learn the underground community is dying-out. They don’t have the resources to keep living underground, but they can’t live above ground due to high radiation. That is, unless…

The Scene: The undergrounders have realized that the bone marrow of their 100s friends (whom being born in space are immune to radiation) is their ticket to surviving above ground. But, for one undergrounder to survive they need all the marrow from a 100. For one to live another must die. The story’s hero, Clark,  the leader of the 100s, learns that the undergrounders plan to murder all of her people and steal their bone marrow. There is only one way to stop them — kill or be killed. Just as the undergrounders go to kill Clark’s mom and harvest her marrow, Clark, torn by guilt, but filled with conviction, opens an air valve to the outside and floods the underground bunker with radiation. All the undergrounders die and the 100s are free to go. So the hero saves her people, and everyone (at least the important people, the 100s) live to see another day and another season on air. The end.

The Contemplation: The whole show is told from the perspective of the 100s. From the very first episode we, the audience, follow their struggles and their triumphs. We audience members are led to identify with them, to rejoice for them and worry about them. Their story is our story. So, it’s only natural that when Clark pulls open the air valve, I found myself cheering for her, relieved that her plan to save her people (my people) worked.

But when the show ended and the credits began to roll I started having second thoughts…two groups of humans, desperate to protect their families, children and communities. Two groups of humans willing to turn to the abomination of genocide to ensure their own survival. This is the danger of self and self belonging. It scared the shit out of me.

I put myself in Clark’s shoes, then in the shoes of the underground leader and the truth is, I didn’t know what I would do in either case. Probably the same thing and try to save my people. But, at the end of the day, it’s not about which group is right/wrong, it’s not about morals or values or justice. It is about a dark truth of this world — as long as I have an ‘I/We’ to preserve, I face the peril of committing unfathomable horrors.

Well Dear Reader, if you have followed even a few of my 100+ blogs to date, you will know one thing about me for sure –I am a worrier. ♪ I worry in the morning, I worry at night, I worry when it’s dark and I worry when its light. ♪ Sing it with me here ♪..I worry about my marriage, my beauty and my wealth; I worry when in sickness and I worry when in health. ♪ When life is going swell, I worry ‘cause ‘what the hell’. And when life is in the shitter worrying seems even fitter ♪…

Thanks for bearing with me while I got that out of my system…the point here is I worry.  The story is:

I was interviewing to find a new Development Coordinator at work, someone to help with gift entry, donor relations, events, etc. I had narrowed it down to two great candidates and arranged final stage interviews back to back on a Friday afternoon.  The first candidate, Raja, came in and I was blown away. He was amazing and the interview went amazing. We both knew it. I really thought my mind was made-up till the second candidate came-in, Lisa.

Lisa was weaker on paper, less experience, less time in the industry. But something about her character, honesty, judgment and true passion struck me. I surprised myself when, by the end of the interview, I had decided we needed to hire her. A few minutes before 5:00 PM, I went to my boss to discuss. We were both on the same page, Lisa it was, we would call first thing Monday morning and extend an offer.

As I was on my way home, I thought about all the times I had been in Lisa and Raja’s position — waiting. Waiting for news on a job, a test, a medical exam. Waiting and worrying, because worrying lives in the space/time of uncertainty.

But the fates of Raja and Lisa weren’t uncertain at all, I had already decided who I would hire. What, from their perspective was a space/ time of uncertainty, was from my perspective already a done deal, a foregone conclusion.

I realized my life is the same way. I take a test and I either passed or failed, so why do I worry till I get the grade ( and then have worry replaced by either satisfaction or  disappointment)? I take a medical screen and worry till I get the results even though the condition of health, or illness, was already existent well before the doctor called with the report.

A further note from present day Alana: When I was packing my bags and preparing for the move to NY, I wasn’t worried at all, I thought I was going to be just fine. I think we all know I was not…

My life is a rollercoaster of fear and hope, all of which take place while I wait for the news, wait for the future, wait to ‘know’ whatever it is I’m waiting for. But I am actually a terrible predictor of how things will turn-out, of when it’s ‘time to worry’  and when it’s time to chill (i.e. the great NY misadventure). I worry because I only see a tiny bit of this world out my window and I fear what is outside of my view. But the world is out there, the future is already being shaped, perhaps decided, so why all the worry?

So the last blog began with a conversation about ‘mess’ at the Wat and ended with an ah-haaaa moment about me understanding(ish) a path to make my heart neutral; to see not mess but  a pile of stuff without judgment or bother. But, there is a bit more to the story. A few contemplations, conversations and inputs that really helped me get there. So, although this a twist and turn in my timeline, in this blog I will share an email conversation between Neecha and I that took place after the conversation at the Wat about ‘mess’ that I mentioned in the beginning of the last blog, but before my contemplation about neutrality that followed managed to take shape (i.e the end of the last blog). I offer it here to show a kind of bridge in my thinking, one example of the inputs that helped get me from something my teachers say to something I can actually process and understand.

Alana’s Email to Neecha asking 2 questions:

1) I wanted to submit a general question for the video Q and A if you guys think its appropriate (if not then maybe you and Mae Yo just have a few thoughts for me) . The question in general is if Mae Yo can talk a little about the role of “what we are familiar with/used to” plays in our lives and more specifically in our continued rebirth. It seems to me a really important underpinning for how we view with and interact in the world. Yet, in my own observation its kind of “silent” it lurks in the background as a kind of unspoken standard…

2) I wanted to share a few specifics of my own contemplation on the topic as well as ask for a little guidance in a place I am stuck. I have contemplated this topic a lot in the past, mostly in relation to the 8 worldly conditions and comparison.I guess I felt like I kinda understood it, but then I was at a concert of a jazz singer I really like last weekend and I noticed that before each song I kept hoping she would play one I knew. The first few cords I was filled with hope, and then, when I realized I didn’t know the song, first I was disappointed, then I started trying to find things that were familiar–oh she uses the same cords, or its the same theme as this other song I like, etc.

It really struck me that something so small as if I knew a song effected my enjoyment so much, and for each new song, it was the old songs that I knew that helped me judge the likability of what is new. I don’t know quite why but the experience was a powerful one — like I caught a glimpse of my own standard setting, my own building of identity, of belonging, of relating to stuff around me  in real time.

I have already started thinking about this in terms of the aggregates as well as self and self belonging. Also, I am thinking a lot about the idea of preservation and how it relates to what we are used to. There is one thing that I’m a little stuck on — when things aren’t “as good as” what I’m familiar with I’m disappointed, but sometime, if I perceive them as better than what is familiar I am happy. I notice there is a limit to this–food can be too rich, houses too big, clothing too fancy –still though there is seemingly some acceptance for a creep “above” what I’m used to but not really much room below. I understand my own imagination creates the yard stick based on my past experiences…still, I’m a little surprised that it doesn’t go both ways (actually I’m less surprised than that I think I have a major wrong view lurking here and I can’t quite pin it down).

My suspicion arises based on the direction my contemplation on preservation have taken me. I have noticed that a major personality trait of mine is that I seek to preserve what I have, things, feelings, relationships, beauty, fitness, health. I’m not necessarily a person that wants or seeks more, I’d rather just “guard” whats “mine”. But sometimes I get more  (this has been especially true with money in the past few years) and when I do, my standards shift, more becomes the thing I am used to and also the new thing I need to guard. I guess the thought that resonated with me most is that if my goal is to preserve then getting more is actually a bad thing–its more work, more to guard, its more painful to lose. Still, I am willing to accept above my standards/what I am used to, even though its so much riskier and harder, than to accept below. Its on this bit of crazy that I wonder if you or Mae Yo have any guidance or gentle nudging for my own thoughts, I would love to hear them.

Neecha’s Reply:

What we are familiar with is super important. It leads us to define happiness and dissatisfaction, which in turn leads to to desire to be reborn a certain way- either to continue to encounter what we are pleased with, or to have another try, only this time not having to face the things we were displeased with. As Mae Yo often talks about, we are reborn because we either desire it, or because we are being forced into it. We can desire more of the pleasant or less of the unpleasant, but either way, we will be reborn because of it. And whether we are forced by karmic debts or willingly reborn, once reborn, we will encounter more of the pleasant and unpleasant, and continue this endless cycle of “I want more of this” and “I don’t want to be like this anymore.” Each of those wants is a “bhava” or becoming, another attempt, another lifetime. That’s what we are trying to cut out by seeing the TTP (suffering) of the things we’re pleased and displeased with in life. And we measure being pleased or displeased based on what we are accustomed to, so it’s super crucial to understand sanya (#3) and how it works, how it affects us, what its TTP(suffering)  are.

Being ok with a slight upgrade but not ok with a slight downgrade is normal. It’s cause is nothing to dig too deep into, because it’s just a natural part of this world, we are all like that. Just like how everything comes with two sides, and one side is considered preferable.  Preferable is perceived personal benefit, while not preferable is perceived personal loss. As you know, how we perceive the outcome can also change, given new info or as time passes. What we see is an upgrade now can be perceived as a downgrade a week later. The main thing here to see how #3 (memory) works in defining good or bad, where did you start thinking it was good or bad to start with, how permanent or impermanent are those labels anyhow, how much TTP is involved in maintaining that yardstick of yours.

For instance, I never really noticed or cared about how people held their spoons when they ate. I traced it back to a mother and daughter who seemed to have it all together. They had the newest toys, the newest clothes, they were like trendsetters. And since I was younger than the daughter, she seemed so smart to me. When she told me I held my spoon in a barbaric way, I re-positioned my hand to hold it in the “proper” way, and started noticing they way others held theirs. Soon, I was labeling people as barbaric and refined. Those judgments affected how I viewed their other actions, how I treated them. When I realized this attitude came from such an arbitrary cause (the point is to eat, who cares how you hold the spoon), that it was completely conditional (would everyone agree that holding the spoon in X way was superior to Y), the idea lost its foundation, it couldn’t be maintained anymore. This is how we destroy the bonds in our memories. By seeing the harm caused as we strive to reinforce them, and the nature of how they were formed and perceived in the first place.

Alana Reads Neecha’s Blog: http://neecha.kpyusa.org/blog/subway/ — OK, blog Neecha wrote on fairness is one of those really important, timely, inputs that helped me shift my thinking. I am linking it here and suggesting you give it a read for context in my final reply,

Alana’s Reply:

Sometimes I get the feeling I’m sorta grasping around a topic, but can’t quite find the entry point.  Anyway, this plus your recent Subway blog actually helped a lot! You sort of freed me from being zoomed-in on the upgrade/downgrade thing and I was able to look a little more closely at a close cousin…neutrality. Or, more specifically, the causes for my being bias in one direction or another rather than being neutral to something (which is a state that would cause less suffering if I could just get there and which would uproot the potential for that thing to propel me forward any further).  

A while back, at the Wat, we were talking about the “mess” on the table. About how, even though we understood that our #3s were the benchmark for the  judgement (#4) of the “messiness” and even though we recognized the discomfort it caused us and possible future perils of the judgement as well, it was hard not to really imagine it as a mess in that moment. It was hard to be neutral to the pile of stuff on the table as being just that, a pile of stuff. I sort of ended-up setting this contemplation a side for a little while because I wasn’t getting anywhere…

When I look at my jazz night out though, I see the situation so much more clearly — the songs are just a jumble of notes and lyrics. I see them as enjoyable or not just based on my own familiarity (3) (somehow this is a clearer example to me then stuff on a table, even though I think its the exact same thing). I then used my imagination , drawing parallels of her old songs to her new  to create new memories, new songs that I can like/be failure with/judge against in the future. Suddenly it just seems kind of silly that I could think some note combos are absolutely great (clean) and others are absolutely bad (messy), particularly when my yard stick is my own creating and i’m continually manipulating the notches on it as well.

The funny thing is, when I really think about my jazz story, I know the origins just like you did with the spoons. Its got to do with my job. I know this Jazz singer because my org. has presented her several times. Since I started this job, I feel like I’m “in the know”, especially about musicians we have presented before.  Its an identity I have developed in part because I felt like it would help me be successful with this job, also to “justify” the reasons I enjoy it and the things it gives me. Plus, I really respect the taste of our ED and it is she who has chosen to present this artist multiple times. When I didn’t know the songs she sang, a part of me felt like my identity as “in the know” was threatened, since clearly, I didn’t know. All the issues I was solving for by creating the identity were challenged and it made me uncomfortable. Combine that with the tendency to prefer what is familiar and I felt dissatisfaction and the need to quickly adjust, to build new memories so in the future I would be in the know again. Ironically, if I were a different kind of person, someone who valued being exposed to new things (which is just a different kind of familiarity, begin familiar with whats new) the concert would have been awesome to my ear and reinforced my sense of being a new edgy person.

Anyway, I’m sort of writing and thinking real time, so this is a bit scattered. I think however this is a topic I will consider more and I am grateful in the nudge you gave me to get here. It seems like a lot of my practice these days lies in my second guessing myself, chipping at my previously held assumptions by looking more closely about how they arise and what purpose I believe they serve (usually they do a pretty half-assed job serving their supposed purpose) . I think I had been taking familiarity/ what I was used to as a logical given truth, something it was safe to base my beliefs and judgments on. I see how important it is to chip away at this,since, it is kind of crazy to think some notes and words are good/bad in their essence.

I was at the Wat and a friend was talking with Mae Yo about an issue of hers: She had asked someone to go to the store and pick-up a case of Coke, they came home with Pepsi.  Over and over she asked them to go and make and exchange and she grew more and more frustrated when they didn’t. The thing is, she already knew her wrong view: when someone fucks something up, they should fix it. She already knew she was the one suffering. But still the problem wasn’t fixed –so what are us practitioners supposed to do when we know we have set a condition, but it just seems so real and right?

A few minutes before Mae Yo had pointed to a stack of papers and pens and other stuff on the table — a bunch of stuff I said  looked like mess– and Mae Yo told us the goal was to be neutral about it. We should see it as an impermanent pile of things, not a mess per se. Or, at least, if it is a mess, it is only one in conventional terms, it is something we should not be bothered by.

But seriously, it still looked like a mess to me, and messes bother me. How am I supposed to come to neutral? I know it is my condition of what is mess and what is clean, I know these conditions will come and bite me in the ass, They already had, as I was uncomfortable sitting there and staring at the mess. But looking at that friggen pile, I was 100% sure it was a mess!!!

Neecha pointed out that it is really just my memory (3) of past object piles informing my imagination (4) to think of it as a mess. And, my memory and imagination have been wrong so many times before. Mae Yo suggested I zoom-out, just looking at mess may not be enough, maybe I should consider concepts of cleanliness, safety, and my experiences with those to consider their performance. But to be completely honest, I left that conversation thinking me and my definition of mess were a totally hopeless mess…

Fast forward a few weeks: I had been to a concert with one of my favorite Jazz singers, Paula West, and it had sparked some contemplations about what is familiar  being what is preferable to me (we will look at this in the next blog). Older songs I had heard before I liked, newer ones I tended to judge based on my experience with her old music.

But it dawned on me the songs are really just a jumble of notes and lyrics (just like a mess is just a jumble of objects). I see them as enjoyable, or not, based on my own familiarity (memory–#3).  I then use my imagination (#4), drawing parallels to other music I like, the way her new songs sound like old favorites, to create new memories, new songs that I can like and use to judge future music.

Suddenly it just seemed kind of silly that I could think some note combos are absolutely great (clean) and others are absolutely bad (messy), particularly when my yard stick is my own creation, based on my own past experiences,  and I’m continually manipulating the notches on the yardstick as I interpret new experiences and imagine ways they impact the future.

And here it is –I think I may sorta kinda understand what Mae Yo was trying to say about the process by which I can bring my emotions to neutral: When I love/hate something, it is my emotions, my feelings, my vedana (that would be the second aggregate) that is responding to the imagination (#4) of what it means which is based off my past memories (#3). The path is is manipulate my own imagination (#4)– by assessing the evidence in the world, paying attention to the 2 sides of everything, impermanence and the suffering– so that my mind overwrites my old memories #3 with new ones that are more accurate and aligned with the truth (impermanence). With new memories, I will have new beliefs, new imaginations, that can, ultimately change my emotional responses (Vedana) of love/hate and bring my to neutral.

Why Do I do all this?

It is so hard to peel back these tendencies and beliefs and find the why. Still, I think I have found at least a few reasons that play out in my tendency to imagine and seek “zones of comfort”, as well as in so many other wrong views:

One: As I have already reflected in past entries, my self seeks safety. It creates narratives and interprets the “data” of my experiences in order to tell me a story that I am safe, that I can be safe, that if I do the right things or play by the right rules to be safe, I will be. I plan a Japan trip because I need to believe there to be someplace /space in this world exempt from the daily sufferings, somewhere worth it, somewhere fun and exciting and new, somewhere I can replay my positive experiences — some place, some zone,  where I am safe and comfortable. With the effort of planning, the effort of going, I can find it. And when I do find it, or narrate to myself that I have found it, it reinforces my sense of self as someone who deserves the happiness, who deserves the safety that I have found. I play into the lie loop #3 from the last blog , self creates self- fulfilling prophecies.

Two: I do it to achieve other ends that I think are important (often incidentally for my safety). This is especially true of travel, because I see it as a way to spend time with Eric and therefore strengthen our relationship (which I rely on for a sense of emotional and financial safety). So even if I see the pain in setting-it up, of losing it, I suppress the pain in order to muscle through and do what I think needs to be done to achieve my aim.

Three: I think I construct this imaginary line of crappy here and awesome over there (but achievable there, not far off there), to make life and all my struggles in it seem worth it. I catch myself rationalizing weird things to this end — just the other day I was thinking even though having our life and home in this expensive city, with Eric’s crazy job and my boring one are so hard, I wouldn’t want to go back to Houston or have less house, less money, different job because I don’t want to go back to my old types of suffering. I feel like at least my new suffering is progress. If I go back to the old, it proves that all the struggle in between was for nothing.

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Interjection from present day Alana: Back when I wrote this homework I didn’t want to go back to Houston. But now I do want to go from NY back to San Fran. I see that it is not just that I don’t want to ‘go back’ to old sufferings — it is not about ‘progress’– it is that I prefer certain Alana selfs, and that self’s particular type of suffering (a suffering that in fact helps define that version of myself). Sure I had SF self suffering — the suffering to be a good attentive wife to a husband who works too much, the suffering of a stable job that bored me, the suffering of needing to preserve wealth and beauty. But that suffering came with being a certain Alana — good wife, smart employee, wealthy and pretty, and capable of managing my active, slightly stressful life like a good mature adult. NY Alana suffers as a hater, as a bad wife who is dragging down her husband’s career by being so emotionally unstable, as a bad Buddhist who can’t just be all fucking zen about the situation. I much prefer SF Alana, and the sufferings that shape her, show her ‘true’ colors as a steady suffering saint than the eratic, harmful, crazy-ass NY Alana. Obviously, this brings me right back to the prelude for this blog, can there be 2 diametrically opposed Alanas I can pick from? And a new topic for further future contemplation: Not only does my sense of self create my suffering, but I then take my suffering and interpret it in ways that further support my sense of self. Anyway…back to the blog at hand…

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It’s like I’m not yet ready to give-up on the world –in part because I really want there to be fields of frolicking unicorns and rainbows just waiting for me to find them. I still think I have control to find them and if I can’t exactly “will it” there are things I can do to “deserve it” (I know ironically that I am likely the one who determines what this is too, my own lawmaker and  judge). But also because it’s so hard to just call so much effort a sunk cost–like all my own suffering is money I spent gambling and I just can’t quit because I am already in so deep.

Anyway, I think this was a very long, 4-part blog, to say I know I have a problem. A problem with my view and a problem that I suffer. Now I need to gather enough evidence to see the truth,  sukka’s rightful owner is dukka. If I make the problem of suffering my number one priority, if I can stop quests for ‘zones of comfort’ and focus on final escape, maybe I can solve the problem with my view along the way…

But, the solution will really only come with gathering evidence, looking at my life, and seeing how the suffering pans-out.

Dear Reader — this blog is a direct continuation of the last entry, Wrong Views on Suffering and Happiness —What, How, the Lie and Why Part 1 and Part 2 — if you have not yet read that post yet please head back there and read it before you continue.

The Lie: The problem is that my 3s and 4s (memory and imagination) –my self — is a liar. I know this because I have watched and gathered so much evidence of it. My favorite story though is about the way I always viewed my Mom and Dad. Mom was evil, Dad a saint. Every story I remembered from my childhood supported this narrative, the way I interpreted, the things I chose to remember–it all served to strengthen my resolve that my parents were flat characters, they were one particular way. It was only after I began contemplating gratitude for my Mom that I remembered times she was good and my Dad was a dick. Stories where she cared for me, where she supported me, where she made me feel happy and loved. It makes me see that there are a few particular ways in which the lie unfolds:

1) I am always the reference point –I just caught this one as I was writing. I read what I thought was good behavior from my Mom and its all about me. She cared for me, she made me smile. I was in a review with my new employee today along with my supervisor. We were both giving her feedback of the positive qualities we think she brings to the job and all mine were about the things that make my life easier. All my boss’ where about the things that make her life easier. So what exactly are the good qualities of my employee? If my priorities change what happens to my sense of her goodness? If I am the reference point, and I continually change, then how can there be an absolute good, a safe zone? Worse, it means that as my expectations change, as they grow –my employee’s virtues, the  things Mom does to make me smile, the ‘zones’ I think are happy — all these things will need to grow too in order to adapt to a changing standard.

2) My 3s (memory) and 4s (imagination) have an agenda — when I look at the way I  construed my Mom and Dad, I see the way I kept gathering evidence to “prove” the point I already “knew” –Mom was bad and Dad was good. Information that went contrary to this I sorta just forgot about, or I ignored it as an outlier. I do this so often. I think of the guys that park my car at work very fondly. I think they are efficient, they are always on time. But sometimes they are not, so I give them a pass –I think they are having a bad day, its a one off, but I “forget about it” and don’t let it erode my sense of their goodness.

3) My 3s and 4s self confirm/self fulfill prophecies — this is similar to #2 above. But its worth a separate note because its such an active process. Here is how I see it working: I associate being on a trip with being relaxed, therefor on a trip I tend not to do things that stress me out like checking email or making appointments. It is like, in my mind, the trip gives me permission not to worry or do worrisome things and, in turn, I record to memory that trips are stress-free times.

4) The only way my 4s (imagination) are able to interpret and value my experiences is relatively. In Japan we stayed at a disgusting hotel one night. The bathroom was moldy, the bed hurt, the heater was broken. We couldn’t even make it all night (it was not up to our standard, not what we were used to) so we went and found another place. The second place was so much better than the first we felt such relief and slept with ease. Eric and I remember the time there fondly. But in truth the 2nd place wasn’t nearly as nice as many places we often stay at and the first was way less bad than places we deemed acceptable in the past (you should have seen some of the hotels in Morocco when we were broke grad students). When we moved on to the next hotel our affection for the second place faded  a little because the new place was nicer. This I guess gets back to the suffering, which is there is no way to ever hit a zone of comfort and stay there because not only will it change, and I will change, just having it as a new point of relative reference means that I will go reinterpreting it as soon as a new experience comes along. So the big question…WHY DO I DO THIS ALL?

Dear Reader — this blog is a direct continuation of the last entry, Wrong Views on Suffering and Happiness —What, How, the Lie and Why Part 1 — if you have not yet read that post yet please head back there and read it before you continue.

How: My 3s (memory) and 4s (imagination) plus self and self belonging give rise to my sense of happiness and my quest for it.

Me and the Bench –a recap of the aggregates:

I remember one time I was sitting on a bench, I had found a spot with the perfect balance between shade and sun. I was not too hot, not too cold –I was so comfortable and happy.  As I sat, over time, the sun shifted in the sky and my perfect shade to sun ratio was lost. It was beginning to get too hot so I moved the bench under a bigger tree and again I was comfortable. It was only a little while though till I was too hot again –the shade was just disappearing! I fiddle with the bench a bit more and then I realized. That it was really only for a brief moment, out of all the moments in the day, that I could be happy and comfortable on that bench. Even with all my efforts sometimes would be too hot and others too cold. But that moment of stimuli that my #2 (feeling) interpreted as comfort was something written to my #3’s memory. Then my #4 started imagining ways to retrieve the experience to recreate or to preserve that moment again.

Whether it on trips or benches, gardens, with certain people, doing certain things,I have had times where I have felt worry free and peaceful, where life felt good. All the spin-up of something like Japan, of all my self-created “zones of comfort”, are efforts to repeat these moments. It is my 3s (memory) that remember that once upon a time I have had happy experiences  and my 4s that imagine I can have them again with just a little planning. That if I control the aspects of the trip, of my life, in just the right way I can get the experiences I want and avoid what I don’t.

My own experiences of everyday life belie the fact that finding lasting and predictable happiness in my day-to-day regular life is impossible. After all, even when stuff is going pretty well, I have the constant discomfort of my to-do list, of waking , working, managing life. So my #4 looks elsewhere…I imagine a space, a place, a time, a person, a holiday, something outside of the regular (which I know is can be crap) where I can have a bit more comfort. I imagine that with enough effort I can go there, that there are predictable steps I can take, like getting on a plane and traveling, that will bring me there.

For the system to work, I need the self to come-in and be the choosy narrator, the story teller. The self, pulls together my 3s and weaves together the memory of whats comfortable so that I can create the great getaway plan using 4. The trip itself is both a result of the misunderstanding of the self (thanks #4) …that I can conjure-up a place of refuge, away from my daily life and something that will further propagate that self (where I selectively store more memories to fuel # 4 in the future)—In the small ways i.e., planner, organizer, traveler (and all the meanings I as narrator impose on these concepts) and in much bigger ways, I selectively remember the good parts and gloss the bad ones to create the narrative that it was worth it. That my great plan to escape suffering worked, at least enough to make me think that I should keep trying in order to get it closer to perfect each time.

The interesting catch however is, in the place of refuge I imagine, the terms of its comfortableness are my own creations. They reflect qualities I already value — worry-freeness, safety, cleanliness(cleanliness in particular I have watched closely and seen how much it influences my sense of comfort or safety in a space –my desire to return to a city, a restaurant, a hotel)  — its my own definitions in my head that I project outwards onto a time, experience or space. But if thats true, can there really be some happy zone over there, outside my own imagination, that I can expect to be there waiting for me? And how do I reconcile it with my own changing standards of comfortableness –as a teenager, I reveled in having a messy room, a messy car; I felt like it made me a ‘rebel against the establishment’, someone who didn’t spend time on ’superficial stuff’ like cleaning? And in the end can I really trust that the signs of that happy place (rupa) that I read as  safe or clean really are when I am such a selective narrator and when I lack so much information (I mean I did find hanging out in a garden in the ghetto petting some feral cat to be peaceful and safe). This then brings me to a big problem…. The Lie…

Without further ado: My homework on my wrong views about ‘suffering safe zones’, the  two sides of suffering and happiness, and whether I can really call something sukka if what is outside of it is dukka… This contemplation around  the topic of suffering will be divided into 4 parts: What suffering it really is /looks like, how my wrong views about it arise and why they arise/the purpose they serve .

Much of these thoughts actually started in response to something Neecha wrote in an email awhile back , “as we have been coming back again and again, there must be something that seems worth it for us. if we cannot find what that is, we cannot leave this world, either.” In my heart I know this is right. It’s the only logical conclusion. So I started looking at the patterns in my life to see if I could identify what’s worth it to me. I’m not sure its the end all, but one biggie pattern that I definitely noticed is:

Wrong view: That I believe the world can be partitioned off into neat little sections. Sections of pain and sections of comfort. If I just take the right steps — hopping on a plane, sitting in a special place, eating the right food, waiting till the weekend — I can move out of a pain zone and into a comfort zone (illusions of control). Even though I see and understand suffering in my life, a part of me thinks there is refuge just over the line if I can get there. At least I can take small trips over there to the comfort side and that seems to be enough for me to think its worth it (misunderstanding of dukkah). As crazy as it sounds, I will trade X days of unpleasant regular life for X days of enjoyable life (belief that what is enjoyable/un-enjoyable is permanent).

What is the reality/ how to fix the view: Mae Yo already pointed me in the direction of correcting the view — look more closely at suffering and its relationship to happiness and to the world. So here I want to begin doing so through examining my recent trip to Japan to understand the dynamics of my beliefs about suffering and then looking at its reality using 5 aspects of suffering( suffering in the trip, suffering of trying to get the trip, suffering of losing the trip, suffering the trip causes by becoming a standard/benchmark for other trips {i.e. suffering of preservation}, and suffering around the trip that allows me to define the trip as “happy” by comparison).
My trip to Japan:

The Dynamics of my beliefs around the trip in a nutshell: Travel is one of the many “separate” areas of life that I view as escapes from the discomfort of my daily life. But, the truth is,  I remember when I was planning the trip, the process felt painful to me. It was stressful on short notice and I was resentful needing to take responsibility for it even though the trip was Eric’s idea. Still, I wanted to go because I saw it as a time to spend with Eric, a shared experience that would strengthen our relationship and make our life seem happier, more worth living. It was a way to literally get-a-way from the shitty parts of everyday life; a separate time and space where I could play care free. So with that motivation..the desire to achieve those ends, I pushed through the discomfort and planned the trip. Of course, the trip itself had its moments of being fun and being stressful; for the fun ones I pat myself on the back, reinforce my sense of being a planner, being someone who deserves good things, having things in this world that are worth-it. But for the suckey moments, in addition to the discomforts I suffered, I also had the discomfort of feeling like a failure. Being unable to successfully plan the trip–not being able to control my entry into a “safe” zone of pleasure. Still, I see the uncomfortable moments as flukes, and the comfortable ones are the hope that with enough time or effort I can overcome these flukes and have an only pleasurable trip. In the end though, even though I can vaguely recall parts that were no fun (we had a shitty hotel one night, we almost missed our train to Osaka, I over ate tempura and felt sick, I walked too far and hurt my foot, Eric and I argued over where to eat lunch, the volcano smelled terrible, I was self conscious over cultural differences and misunderstandings,etc.)  I put a sheen on it and call the trip a success. I justify all the suffering by highlighting the good parts and diminishing the bad so that I have the wherewithal to do it again in the future.

Trying to come to a more accurate view by exploring the suffering in depth.

1) Suffering in the trip — As I mentioned, the actual trip had moments of suffering. There was physical suffering of hunger,  aches and pains, jet-lag. there was the stress over being jet lagged, feeling like I needed to be out exploring even though I was exhausted. There was stress over spending money and over the tension between spending it on such unique things and being at a place of some financial insecurity in light of Eric’s current job discontents. There were moments of tension and disagreement between Eric and I. Us not wanting to do the same things, me either frustrated with his plan or feeling bad when mine didn’t work-out. There was being uncomfortable with culture differences, worried we offended folks, confusion of language or appropriate actions.One night we went to a Sushi bar and realized after we had gotten our food we didn’t have enough cash to cover it. We worried the whole meal how we would explain. How we would solve the problem (Eric finding an ATM while I waited at the restaurant). We felt extra bad because they were so nice to us. We were so relieved in the end  when they took a credit card…. The main point here is that if there were really an “over there” a “suffering free zone” to be found on a trip to Japan then why was there so much discomfort mixed-in? Why didn’t I find it?

2) Suffering of trying to get the trip— So much work went into the trip. So much money that has been so painful for Eric to earn, for me to participate in..the ups and downs of his job, the drama that effects our life together, the time it sucks from the time we can spend together, the endless conversations, the pressure to be a good listener to give good advice, just to earn enough to pay for a trip to Japan. Then there was the actual effort in planning, the time to research, the stress of making the right plans, of “insuring” that Eric enjoys the trip, that the trip lives-up to my own expectations, my hopes. The moment when I thought we wouldn’t be able to find a hotel in Osaka, the stress of getting train tickets, the endless emails to travel sites and activity planners. Picking out the “right” tour book, writing the packing list, stressing I forgot something. All so that I could go over to the “stress-free zone” of the trip.

3) Suffering of losing the trip — of going home. I am always so so sad at the end of a vacation. I hate coming back to my “regular” life. It feels so lackluster. I feel so overwhelmed by the mail at the door, the piles of papers on my desk, the emails, the phone messages, the to-do-lists. When I’m away I don’t think about making eye dr. appointments, painting the house, re-organizing my files. I don’t worry about putting-on a little extra pudge (that then makes me so sad, makes me diet so vigilantly when I return). But when I come back it all floods back-in and it makes me want to plan a new trip. Have a new escape from all this stuff of everyday life. It sows the seeds for more suffering, to plan, suffering during, suffering of coming home, suffering of comparison…

4) Suffering the trip causes by becoming a standard/benchmark for other trips — Here in SF we have a Japanese mochi shop we like to go to and they have the most delicious cherry blossom sweets. We were so so excited when we found them at a shop in Kyoto and so we bought a half dozen. We were sure they would be even better in Japan then the ones at home,. How could they not be? But the ones in Japan were too salty, the rice too firm and we were so disappointed. We gave the leftovers to some other travelers we met and they loved them..thought they were the most delicious sweets ever. It was so clear to me the benchmark of the sweets from home, the ones we were used to, created the disappointment when the ones in Japan couldn’t live-up to the standard. But ironically, I also know if the ones in Japan had been better we would have come home and been disappointed with the ones here.To me this is one of the clearest problems of this world–there is no win. Each bit of success, and enjoyment pushes the standards higher. It needs to be repeated, at least preserved, but even better if its beaten. But then there is more and more struggle to repeat, to go on.

5) Suffering around the trip that allows me to define the trip as “happy” by comparison — For me this suffering is the most slippery but also the most powerful. It is the cup and women optical illusion. It is the fact that even if all the above were untrue and the trip was all candy and unicorns, the contours are shaped by suffering. If there were no suffering, if I didn’t feel discontent in my daily life, I wouldn’t seek to  find a “happy zone” off in Japan. Two weeks straight with Eric felt so precious, it felt happy, because he is traveling so much for work at this time. Traveling around and seeing new things felt so engaging because my job bores me so much here. Eating whatever I want feels so freeing because I am so rigid here. None of the satisfaction I had on the trip actually makes sense without it being satisfying compared to dissatisfaction that I’m used to, that I definitely experience. It is with this awareness that it makes sense to start considering what happiness really is, how my concept of it arises…

Mae Yo once told me to go look at the idea of preserving, to contemplate on refrigeration, because us humans are always trying to preserve. I’m no different, I’m always trying to either preserve a particular space/time/self, or– as my recent NY life has shown me– get back to the good stuff I failed to preserve. But thinking about the women and the wine glasses, the interdependent nature of suffering and comfort, was starting to make me suspect, I was bound for failure.

2014, the time of this contemplation, was a good, fat year. Mostly, Eric and I were comfortable –we were healthy, wealthy, in love with each other, happy with our friends and community; stress, aside for Eric’s chronic work stress, was low. I thought, this time/space (early 2014) is so good, I want it to stay this way for ever (it didn’t FYI). But, this 2014 time, when I really thought about it, was the culmination of struggles, it was constructed on the foundation of years of stress. There was our first year in SF when we were too poor to heat the house. There was the sorrow and stress of losing our life in Houston where we had moved from. There was the falling out with friends who were not as healthy and stable for us which motivated us to build new relationships.  All that made that 2014 moment in time comfortable was set-up by all the discomfort before it.

And…if I was being honest, its not like early 2014 was all butterflies and unicorns either. Even inside that comfortable moment, the wealth meant the stress of preserving it, of estate planning and financial advising. The stability at my work meant I was often board and unstimulated. And, underpinning all of it was the stress of Eric’s job, the job that allowed us to even afford to stay in the Bay Area.

The truth – there is suffering here and suffering there. Sometimes it is less and sometimes more, but the comfort and ease of less is literally defined by, built off of, the periods there is more. I don’t want to lose my relatively comfortable moment, I want to preserve, to keep the suffering at bay. The suffering I have now is fine, I can bear it, I want this moment static. But, I had said that too about Houston, and then I was even happier in SF. I’d said I was happy with $100 but then I got $1,000. There will always be new things in my life, new people, experiences, stuff, because static is impossible.  And with each new thing I like I have the work of preserving. And with each thing I like that I lose, the work of getting it back.

I shared this contemplation with Mae Yo and she shared a few thoughts that I will relay here:

She said that we try to preserve because once we have something, it becomes necessary. And just like suffering before is what shapes my happy now moments as happy, the happy moments cause my suffering later – each thing I love I will lose, each thing that is good will set the standards by which I view something else as bad. Understanding preserving is tied to understanding the relationship between suffering and comfort; since staying the same, preserving, is never really possible in a world that is always changing and moving, love of what we have sets us up to feel loss when it is gone.

She left me with a final thought about understanding how to practice, how to progress: “in your palm is sticky rice, just keep rolling it till the oil in your hand makes it fall off your palm.”

Its about then I saw the way forward with my homework of understanding the 2 sides of suffering and comfort. I knew I needed to ask 5 questions:

• Suffering in happy moments
• Suffering trying to get happy moments
• Suffering of losing happiness
• Suffering by trying to preserve, repeat and replace with better
• Happiness as defined by surrounding suffering.

Stay tuned for the long awaited homework assignment…

When I returned from Hawaii, my mule encounter fresh on the brain, I made an appointment to talk to Mae Yo. I had, after all, identified a huge tendency of mine, a deep wrong view in which I divide the world into neat little partitions: areas of suffering and areas of comfort. I live for those corners of comfort, my spaces of refuge from suffering — that peace, that joy, that comfort is part of my life, if only I could figure out how to have it forever…

Of course, there is no life without suffering, that my friends is Buddhism 101, so my question for Mae Yo — how do I fix this delusion that I can set-up boundaries to delineate suffering free zones? Because, as long as I think those zones exist, I think this world is worth it.

In response to my question, Mae Yo and LP Anan read me a quote from the Buddha. Roughly paraphrased it went something like this, “ If I the Buddha, the most ninja awesome badass ever, could separate Sukka (happiness) from Dukka (suffering), I would have continued to live in this world. But, because I can not separate Sukka from Dukka I will return Sukka back to its true owner, Dukka, and I leave this world for good.”

That then was my homework, to go and see that everything has 2 sides. That and one final question from Mae Yo — Can I call something Sukka if what is outside of it is Dukka?

Once again, I had my work cut-out for me…

Eric and I were on vacation again, Hawaii’s Big Island, sitting on a mule drawn carriage taking us on a tour of the Waipi’o valley.  It was impossible not to enjoy a beautiful day, in a beautiful place, as the mules plodded along the path. But then, we hit a rough patch in the road, slippery from mud and puddles, and the mules began to lose their footing. They struggled and slipped, unable to pull the carriage any further until they just stopped.  

The driver clicked at them, but they wouldn’t budge. He yelled but still they wouldn’t move. He began to beat them with a stick and finally the animals began to pull, their breath heaving, their feet sliding under them, as the driver kept yelling and hitting some more. My heart broke, I felt for the poor animals, their suffering, the shitiness of their life, of being a slave to such a cruel driver… but its not exactly like I could hop off the cart in the middle of the jungle in protest.

When we got back to the barn, I watched as the driver unhooked the mules, and they ran into the field and began frolicking and grazing with their friends. They were being so playful, they looked so carefree, it was like the beating and the struggling were some distant mule memory…stupid asses I thought.

Then I realized, the stupid ass is me. In my mind, I divide this world into neat little sections, sections of pain and sections of comfort, sections of suffering on slippery roads and sections of frolicking in fields with my friends.  I believe if I just take the right steps, hop on planes to Hawaii or plan the perfect dinner date, I can move out of the pain zone and into the comfort zone.

Of course, I understand there is suffering in my life, but a part of me thinks the refuge is just over the line if I can get there. At least I can take small trips over there to the comfort side and that seems to be enough for me to think it’s worth it. And the trips — to Hawaii, out to dinner, frolicking in fields with friends — they work sometimes, for a little while, long enough to forget the suffering on the road just behind me.

Something Neecha had said to me in an email had been bugging me for weeks. She said, “as we have been coming back again and again, there must be something that seems worth it for us. if we cannot find what that is, we cannot leave this world, either.” Intellectually of course I knew she was right, but I just wasn’t feeling it… As I stood there looking at those mules, I realized that this partitioning off of the world into sections is one of my huge patterns, it is how I view the world to make it seem ‘worth it’. But how do I undo, how do I make this world seem not worth it? Time for another conversation with Mae Yo…

If self is the storyteller, self belongings are the props that help make the story believable. They are the accessories that make the outfit, that make the whole thing pull together…Enter, the pink skirt:

With my organization’s big annual gala in mind, I start trolling ebay looking for the perfect outfit. As soon as I saw that neon pink, silk, Oscar De La Renta  skirt, I knew it was mine. In my mind, I was wearing it before I even paid for it — thinking of the shoes, the purse, the shirt that would match. Thinking of the look I wanted so that everyone would  see me as fun, young but professional, stylish. Above everything, so people would see me as pretty, someone worthy of adoration, someone worthy of love and attention, someone valuable. A good Alana.

The skirt arrived a few days later, my excitement high as I tore open the package and ran to the bathroom to try it on. Wooohooo.. Yikes, fat, frumpy, cotton candy ass was totally not the look I was going for. I banished that skirt straight to the give-away-pile, it’s just totally not me, its not mine at all (or if it is, its my burden to carry over to the Goodwill)

That give-away-pile, was filled with stuff I gathered to sell the story, to dress the part of the Alana I wanted to be. But it was all stuff that failed to do its part in the end. It was props that made me look dated instead of fashionable, fat and frumpy instead of beautiful and thin, cheap instead of rich, whorish rather than sexy. That then is the truth, these props, these self belongings, they don’t do what I think they do, at least not all the time, forever, with everyone. If they did, that pink skirt would have made me a knockout..no further shopping required. And if the storyteller’s props are a sham, what about the stories?

I set-up these stories, these standards, these “refuges” –beauty is a certain thing, moral rightness is a certain thing (like not being a cheater) , likability is a certain thing (adventurous rhino survivor). With these ideas, these parameters, which I myself define, I create a narrative of a structured and predictable world and an Alana that deserves the best that world has to offer. These stories keep me safe from a chaotic world, just like a fit body keeps me safe from death, and a pretty face keeps me safe from being abhorred. But beauty fades, the face sags, the moral standards change (vegetarian Alana versus meat eating Alana), what is likeable to one person isn’t to the next. And besides, 1000 times I have seen pretty young people die, horrible people have good fortune and good ones face suffering. I have seen people safe and stable in one moment and then swept-up in a landslide the next.

All this time I have been looking for the wrong thing–to be safe. Beauty to keep me safe, money, love, my family, my friends, popularity, clothes, my body, health, food, all things I look to to keep me safe from what exactly? No matter what things I have, no matter what stories I tell, I’ll still grow old, suffer, die.

The truth is my ‘refuges of safety’ —  the stories my self is born to tell — are lies that keep me safe from nothing at all.  Impermanence is the final word. And now I at least have an inkling as to why all those wise Buddhists before me have said, the only source of refuge in this world is the Buddha, the Dharma, the Sangha.

This blog is a continuation of the previous blog — Some (More) HW on Self and Self Belonging.

As I began to understand how the process of creating self and self belonging works, I struggled with my usual question: Why do I do this — prop-up a self and continue to fuel it? What purpose does it serve?  My contemplations so far had gotten me to see that my sense of self and self belonging help sell a lie about an unchanging self and world, they smooth isolated instances in time into a narrative and help me pick facts to include in that narrative and which to ignore. It is like self is a gifted storyteller…(did you guys ever see the movie Usual Suspects?)

But beyond that, I was stuck. humph. I asked Neecha and Mae Yo for guidance and they suggested I consider what would happen if I didn’t create a self, is it even possible to avoid? I struggled with this for a while and decided to apply one of those old handy dandy contemplation tools I keep in my pocket — I decided to zoom out…if self is a storyteller then instead of asking about self (which I’m totally stuck on),  I can ask questions about telling stories: What kind of stories do I tell in my life? Why do I tell stories or exaggerations or lies?

I see that I generally have 2 types of stories I tell..the ones that are told out loud to others and the quiet ones I tell to myself. Let’s take a closer look at each:

Example Out Loud Story: The Great Tweezers Lie of 1993:

Finally, I will admit the truth, all these decades later — it was I who took my Mom’s tweezers and forgot to put them away. But back then, 14 year old Alana was afraid of getting grounded; when my Mom came-in and accused me of taking the tweezers, I looked her in the eye and I lied, “ What tweezers? I don’t have any idea what you are talking about.”

So there is is the reason for my story: I lied to save myself, to avoid my Mom’s wrath. How many other ‘out loud stories’ have I told and why:

• At a dinner party, with everyone captivity listening to my travel tales,”I got run down by a rhino on safari and lived to tell the tale.”I tell of my adventurousness, my glamorous exotic experiences; I never admit how afraid I felt, how I never want to go on safari again…
• 30 minutes late to work and I exaggerate to my boss, “traffic took 30 minutes to move 10 blocks.” I leave out the part that I left the house late. I want to seem responsible, a victim of circumstance not a person who can’t make it out the door on time.
• Talking to a donor at an event, I learn they went to my university. It was a fine school, but I’m hardly a die-hard alumni. Still I find myself sharing tales and ‘bonding’ over a common experience which, in general life, means quite little to me. But I want to be liked, to find common ground with a stranger, to be successful at my job.

The stories I tell out-loud are always meant to control other people’s perceptions of me. They are meant to get people to like me, or to protect myself from negative judgement or consequences.

Example Story I Tell Myself: That’s Not Cheating

When I was in highschool I had a ‘rule’ — I would not be a cheater. I would not cheat on my partners and I wouldn’t would mess around with someone else’s partner either. But there was once, I liked a guy so much, he just already had a girlfriend. Based on my rule, I wouldn’t cheat, but I flirted, invited him over to study, insinuated..I got him to break-up with his girlfriend so we could go out. But that’s not cheating..I waited till after the break-up to mess around with him. I created an imaginary line, a story, and then I defined myself as someone who stayed on the “right” side of it. I did it because I wanted to protect myself from seeing myself as a cheater. I wanted to believe I was a good person, who deserved friends, and good faithful partners.

How many other ‘inside stories’ have I told and why:

• In my relationship with my mom, I painted myself as the victim and my mom as the ‘wicked witch.’ I ignored the other side, the times I was hurtful to her, the times she was the hero. I did it because I didn’t want to see my own ugliness, my lack of gratitude. The truth that I was being a bad child a lot of the time.
• I hate New Yorkers, I look outward to find ugliness in their actions, to distract myself from my own ugliness, the traits about myself I don’t like.

The stories I tell myself are all designed to bolster my sense of being a good Alana. They obfuscate my negative qualities, they defend my righteousness and justify my potentially bad behavior through selective memory, arbitrary rules and standards, and downright lies. I need to be a good Alana. I value goodness, I think it is what makes me worthy of love, of protection, of good karma and a comfortable life.  I believe that good people deserve good outcomes and that the world will deliver those.  So I tell stories that affirm my goodness, because that goodness is what makes my worldly existence seem predictable, orderly and safe.  

At the end of the day, my self as storyteller reinforces my vision of the world as a predictable place, one I can navigate if I just follow the rules (rules of my own creation). It lets me be in control, to imagine a world worth living in because I ,as a self proclaimed ‘good’ person, will get good stuff and avoid the bad. It makes me believe it is worth being born.

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

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

The Situation:

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

The Aggregates:

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

The Harm:

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

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

The Deeper Creepier thing Going On:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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