Alana's Dharma Blog

Each morning, I get-up and take my asthma medication, a quick puff, a rinse of the mouth and I am good to go. Fit as a fiddle. Strong as an Ox. Healthy as a horse…

My fit, healthy self, went to fill-out some insurance paperwork, and as I read their definitions of “excellent health”, I saw I didn’t qualify. With asthma, a chronic condition, the best I can be, according to the insurance company, is in “good health.”

But wait wait wait a second there…I am a woman who takes care of my body. I work-out, I diet, I take my vitamins and drink my water and get a check-up at least once a year. I am young, vibrant, active. In my mind, I am in “excellent health.” How could you, insurance company, who doesn’t even know me, say otherwise? Wait wait wait, why am I, Alana, so damn upset about this?

The thing is, this body is my ultimate tool to prove who I am. Because it is always with me, its what I focus on the most. I bathe it, I dress it, I pierce and decorate it. Choices as seemingly small as not shaving my legs, or letting my feet get calloused are choices that prove WHO I AM (an independent hairy woman not confined by male-centric beauty trends, or a woman tough enough to wear no shoes even on rocky ground). I CONTROL MY BODY, I need to be in control of my body, BECAUSE BEING IN CONTROL OF MY BODY MEANS I AM IN CONTROL OF MY LIFE.

But as much as I love to play make believe, to dress-up this body and peacock it around, the truth is I am not in ‘excellent health’. I have asthma, without medication I can’t even control my breathing. I have had stomach problems since I was a kid and there I times I can’t control the need to run to the bathroom. I get kidney stones and the pain is so severe I can’t control the shaking and crying. I have a hip injury, terrible teeth, I wear glasses, have a vitamin D deficiency, eczema…

My minds uses the fact that my body is ‘always there’, changes ever so slowly from one day to the next, to convince myself that the body is the answer to my preservation dilemma; with proper care and feeding I can preserve it and it can in turn preserve myself. But for all my effort, this body keeps breaking down. If I can’t even control this sack of skin, how can it prove I am an ‘in control kinda gal’?

The next two blogs, which will close-out the Suffering and Self –Yummy period of my practice, are a recap of the homework Mae Yo gave me to look at my own experiences to see how I use stuff to feed and sustain the self. Part 1 will be evidence gathered from my belongings. Part 2 will address my body directly. 

Fishing through my wardrobe I come across an outfit I love: tall black boots and a long jacket. Even just thinking of putting those two things on and I feel like a sexy badass. But really, in the dim light of a packed Victorian closet, the boots are just boots, the jacket just a jacket. So what exactly is going on here? Is it like Clark Kent in a phonebooth, throw-on a shiny, skin tight, costume and I am transformed into a super hero? Where did this idea even come from? 

I remember my first pair of tall black boots. I bought them late in life, already in my 30s. I found them at a goodwill and as soon as I zipped them-up, I felt transformed. Sharper, sexier, bolder, stronger… I honestly don’t know where any of this came from, but since that fateful day, a tall black boot is a wardrobe staple. 

The jacket, I have a bit more memory of. I had a friend in university, Amber, who always wore a long jacket/sweater. It was her signature look and damn was she sexy: a strong, take charge, take no shit personality I frankly always wished I had. Me, I’m a bit timid, I shy away from confrontation, the best I could do was to make friends with someone so bold. That, and buy a long jacket.  

But, do the clothes really make the woman? Back when I was in elementary school there was a brand of pants, Z. Cavaricci, that was all the rage. I was desperately unpopular at that age and even more desperate to become popular. Before the new school year started I got it in my head that it was a fashion problem. I convinced my mom to take me to the store and I bought a rainbow of Cavariccis, armed to make myself popular in the new year. But on the first day of school, I arrived in my new pants and I was greeted by taunts and bullying. Each day I wore a new color Cavaricci, but not one pair –not even the pink ones—did anything to get the other kids to like me. 

I started looking around my house and my eyes fell on my dining room table, a 6 foot long mid century piece by the famous designer Finn Juhl, a gift from an old friend. Sitting at the table always makes me feel so special, so loved. It’s a unique, museum quality piece that affirms my awesome design sense and the fact that my awesome friend gave it to me…well what better evidence is there of my general awesomeness. And wrapped-up in that table are the memories of so many gatherings, so many dinner parties, so many occasions to affirm that I can surround myself with people who love and adore me.  

Each thing in the house really seems to serve 2 purposes: One is the actual use; clothes to cover my body, chairs to sit in, books to read. But these objects, in my mind provide something else, they prove me; clothes to make me badass, furniture to make me fashionable and loved, books to make me seem smart. But, even my own experiences show the objects fail, they don’t do what I want them to do, they don’t make me who I want to be, after all, a closet full of Cavaricci never even made me 1 friend… 

Each object took effort to acquire, to care for, to preserve. I try to make the objects, like my green purse, permanent. But they break and fade or like a Cavaricci go way way way out of fashion. I try to use those same objects to make me permanent, to make me what I want to be, but even when I’m wearing those tall boots and a long jacket, I still find myself shying away from a confrontation. Alas, Alana the badass is in my mind only, she isn’t born with a quick wardrobe change.

I shared my reflections on the Green Purse with Mae Yo and she offered a few thoughts I will share here: 

Identity comes from what we are familiar with, we reiterate it, we become used to it and then, in our minds it becomes us and ours. We are repulsed by things we don’t like and attached to stuff we do.  

It all starts with me and the bag, but compliments from others, Eric’s comment that the bag reminds him of me, build my sense of specialness that is confirmed by the bag. There are 3 types of self/ego: 1) inflated 2) middle 3) small hearted. When we get a compliment it inflates our ego while with no comment we stay in a state of middle or little heart. This is how we confirm our sense of self. Like the body needs food, the sense of self is fed by self belongings –we use object in this world to feed and sustain our self. 

When we want to preserve something (like a bag) why do we do it? Like a preserved food, a pickle, we want to delay time, we want to sustain our stuff and self as long as possible.  

My home work was to go home and see if my own experience confirms this, to see if I can prove the tendency to use self belonging to feed self, the tendency to preserve to sustain self, are true.  

I asked Mae Yo a final question: What am I missing? Her reply: “ You haven’t committed that this path is the only way. You would still give another method a chance, to keep your options open. Its like you haven’t really broken up with an Ex yet, so ask yourself why not? When you are convinced, you will be able to walk the path alone. Its like a swimmer, looking at the competitor in another lane makes you lose time.”

After the retreat I went ahead and summed-up all my contemplations and shared them with Mae Yo and Neecha. I had a few additional questions. Here you will find my questions in purple and Mae Yo’s responses in green below:

 1)So this is really the first time that self has jumped out at me. I wanted to ask if there are pieces I am missing or more mechanics I should be contemplating? Anything at all you want to offer on the topic? Sometimes even if I don’t fully understand your responses now they really hit me like a ton of bricks later.

When contemplating self/identity, we typically apply the same techniques. Look at how it was created (3s and 4s working hard here), what are the puzzle pieces that form the whole picture of “self” and where did those pieces come from? How do we reinforce them? How does maintaining them cause us happiness or suffering? What are the consequences, Tuk Toht Pie, of this self? 

Usually though, we contemplate other issues and it leads us to see our identity, how we’ve defined ourselves. Lessening our degree of identity is usually more a result than it is the focus of contemplation.

2) Where should I go from here? My instinct is to go back to my old stories and plug-in my new thoughts on self and self belonging. Also, I think I should more closely consider the relationship between preserve and control.

Self in terms of self-belongings is more doable; this is self in terms of tangibles, so you’re really contemplating tangibles, how you view tangibles, and it’ll lead you to identity. You can do this by focusing on the self that is derived from or that exists in tangibles. Tangibles are the foundation for our suffering, after all. 

3) What is the relationship between self and desire? Between desire and becoming? I wrote the question before I finished all the contemplation above, so perhaps I already answered it. Still, if Mae Yo has any pithy response for me to keep in mind?

Self and desire are what make us reborn. We see ourselves a certain way, want to maintain that or have another go at it, and that’s why we are reborn.

For the longest time, I had seen practicing the Dharma as a struggle. A sacrifice. Something I endured for the promise of a better future, or being a better person, or at least understanding the world more clearly.  Of course, it had already been of benefit to me, I saw results; otherwise why in the heck would I keep pushing? But, to be honest, most of the time I imagined my path as me groping in the dark along a thorny road…heavy, serious, a burden I attended to out of a mix of fear, guilt, self-judgment/hate, pride in small victories, and a sprinkle of hope to keep me going.

When LP Nut and I were talking about my wrong views around future options he shared a perspective on practicing that completely shifted my paradigm. For that, I am eternally grateful. Here Dear Reader is a short blog on my paradigm shift: Practice as a relief for unbearable burdens.

LP Nut shared the story of a hike LP Anan had led in which everyone had to take a heavy object along with them. LP Nut took a chair. He labored through the hike, panting, sweating, and at the end LP Anan looked at him and asked, “why are you still carrying the chair?” As LP Nut explained, my mind was already racing: All of our life we carry around the burdens of our responsibilities, of acquiring and maintain our shit, of nurturing our relationships, of caring for our bodies, of making it through this life one day at a time. But these burdens are like chairs on a hike — we don’t need to carry them — we really can just put them down.   Pchwwwfffzzz – that, My Friends, is the sound of my mind being blown. Practice is for the relief of unbearable burdens.

I can’t say my practice is always a cake walk, that it doesn’t take time, dedication and some compromise (sometimes it’s a bit like taking bitter medicine). But what I once saw as harrowing trek along a dark, thorny, road now shines in my mind as a light in that dead of night, a warm blanket against the cold, a balm for my tired feet. Instead of all harshness, my path became a comfort. The Dharma is my faithful companion that no one can ever take away; it is where I go for refuge from my burdens.

So, by the time I got back from my forest nap adventure, I had a pretty solid grasp on the limitations of my ability to preserve what I have, i.e. to keep and maintain control over my present circumstances. But there is another idea in my always choosing A — a fairly pervasive one in my life really — that I can make decisions to hedge my future, to keep doors open so I ‘always’ have more choices later, more potential paths and potential escaper routes. Its like trying to preserve, only for the future. I decided it deserved a little additional attention, so I went to talk about it with LP Nut.

The following blog is an amalgamation of 2 conversations LP and I had and some of my contemplations around them. I never meant for this to get a formal write-up, so his teachings and my thoughts are sort of melded together in the notes I took. Still, there were some powerful seeds of my future practice planted in these ideas/dialogues/contemplations, so I am going to reconstruct and share to the best of my ability.

When I went to LP the first time and expressed my struggle finding the wrong view underlying this idea that I can keep options open for later he shared an example from his own life. He explained that he loves his parents and being with them, but he moved away from home because he also wants his freedom. Even still, in his heart he feels comforted that he can go and visit them, that the option to return to them is still there. But, this feeling is based on a wrong view, that he knows what a future visit will look like. That it will be nurturing, fun, rewarding. That it will be what he wants/imagines. That it will be possible at all.

Fast forward to our next conversation and LP suggested that I need to consider probability and duration more carefully. After all, if I think I can control my future options through my decisions now it’s worth really considering the likelihood of my success, for how long and, of course, at what cost. He also told me to look more carefully at the factors that go into having an experience I want –what exactly are the conditions that had to be met for me to call something satisfying?

We took a recent trip Eric and I had shared as an example. I went to the hotsprings with Eric because I wanted us to be together, share time together. But LP asked, was it exactly how I imagined it? Were there times we were apart (of course), times we fought, or simply weren’t totally happy, where these disappointments (again, of course, of course and of course)?  If I believe I can somehow make decisions to keep options open for the future, how likely is it the future will be what I imagine and hope for? Was it the case with my vacation?

LP shared a story of a girl who had come to the temple recently devastated by the death of her boyfriend. He asked me if I uews

nderstood why she was so upset. I ventured a guess – the girl imagined (#4) a future with her boyfriend and his death destroyed her happy imaginations of that future so she felt loss.  As LP explained, this is the same problem with my imagining ‘options’ and open doors for my own future. They are based on my imagination alone, not on any certain, guaranteed future. The future is unknowable, it is impermanent, it arises based on a precise combination of conditions/factors that are totally beyond my imagination’s ability to know or control.

For Eric and I to go on vacation together a number of conditions had to be met. We needed the money, our jobs needed to approve the time off, the hotel had to have available bookings, the roads needed to be passable, the weather accommodating, our health good enough for travel, etc. A bunch of conditions, most entirely outside of our control, had to be ripe for just one trip to happen. And even if the trip had been all sunshine and rainbows, was exactly as I imagined when I planned it, there is an important caveat – it came to an end. Its duration was not infinite.

The truth is, this world has happy moments, like a good vacation, and then those come to an end. Duration is uncertain; only cessation, at some unknown point, can be guaranteed.

I got back to thinking again about why I always chose A. Why we chose F.U.ber this time around instead of Sonos. It hit me — I think the money and career boost of F.U.ber keeps doors open so that I can enjoy the Sonos beach bum, lazy life, experience later.  So by continuing to choose A, I keep open the future option of more A, or B, or possibly C or D. I think $ and career experience = future choices, future control. But is a job at F.U.ber a necessary, or sufficient, condition to have beach bum life later? Does money or career experience come with any guarantees? Countless times, including my vacation, my imagination failed to predict or control the future. Why should I believe it when it tells me that if I just collect a few tools — $ and experience – I can turn possibility into probability or even a guarantee for ever and always?

Don’t worry, no need to stress, this isn’t a cliff hanger story. Sure, I took a wayward path, but I assure you we are still on topic…Why do I always chose A?

As I was sitting in the forest I had a thought, the reason Eric and I stressed so much about the job choice, and then ultimately chose A is simple — we believe we are better than those trees, that we can preserve, control, that this choice of ours was somehow determinate of our future, finances, careers. That it was all on us.  B had a moment of being tempting because I thought I was ready to change style, get rid of that old hippy shirt and redefine myself with a new story. A change, yes, but one of my own design. In fact, the only reason I even noticed the A A A A always A pattern was that for one moment in time B tempted me…

After the retreat Eric got more troubling, drama-y, news from F.U.ber that again awakened my exhaustion with A and got me wondering if we should have chosen B. In that moment I was so upset and then it hit me — I was upset because I really believed there was a “right choice” that with just enough information or clarity I could pick it . I imagined an outcome that was all sunshine and rainbows if I could just control enough to get there. In truth, option “A” and “B” both have pros and cons. I select based on my biases (3s and 4s) for what I believe the pros and cons will be (imagination) . I know there will be suffering, but I still think I can hedge, I can control the amount, the duration, the nature of the suffering as a variety I can bear. Plus, it keeps my options open for the future. Based on these biases and beliefs I keep choosing A, but as I come to see the suffering involved I think that maybe another option, like “B”, would be better.

Seeing the deeper issue and the perils — Again, I was just sort of struck by the fact that my choosing “A” or ” B” (or any other letter/option) was just like this game we played on retreat. We, as a group, pretended to be a child of a father who rapes us and to really see the suffering. Finally, we convinced ourselves that being born to a father who rapes us isn’t worth it and it will cut us off from that birth (option A) but we may still get “B”, life with a single Mom. Or “C”, life as an orphan. In a nutshell, I keep choosing A because I haven’t yet convinced myself that the drama, stress, and sacrifice of this particular A life just isn’t worth it.

My deeper problem is that I still have hope that I can calibrate my decisions to get what I want with minimal and acceptable downside. Basically, my hope/desire that I can control, at least control enough to make it worthwhile, means even if I tire of one option I will continue to try others (super perilous). The whole trick to avoiding any crappy birth is to avoid birth altogether and that requires seeing the truth that all births have dissatisfaction. Afterall, even in a life as charmed, successful and comfortable as my own –a life of A A A — I will eventually get tired and want B. Maybe, if I really can see this, I don’t have to try every life, every option, I don’t have to turn over every card before I get up and leave the table. Maybe, I can just quit the rebirths that keep arising in service of my imaginary specialness …

A note to my readers: this blog is a direct continuation of contemplations from Contemplations from the 2015 Retreat : Priming the Pump for Insight with contemplations on security and preserving. If you have not already done so, head back and read that entry before you proceed further.

Slowly, I woke from my nap and I opened my eyes to see that the forest floor was covered in leaves. In fact, it seemed like more leaves were on the ground than on the trees. In that semi-conscious awakening moment I   thought to myself, “the trees, so big and beautiful and powerful, with all their tree life force can’t preserve the leaves.” The tree is even the maker of the leaves, and in my mind, should be their absolute “owner” and still, despite their efforts the leaves all eventually fall and die, in the end so does the tree itself. I am nowhere near as mighty as a tree, so why do I believing that I am somehow different, better, that I can be preserved and I can preserve things?

Fully awake now, I reached for a sip of water and I considered my water bottle: I had bought it a  gas station in Healdsburg and brought it up the mountain. I had actually laid it down in the great hall when I first arrived, and had a momentary worry I wouldn’t find it again amongst all the other water bottles on the floor, in peoples’ hands, on tables, in the kitchen…I knew that ‘my’ bottle was basically the same as everyone else’s, but it was special to me, something I worried about preserving, re-finding, just because it was mine.  I realized the water bottle and I are just the same; I think I’m special, exempt from the rules just because I’m mine.

I saw further that it is made of the elements like me it has form; It comes to be “my water bottle” based on causes (arising) – and many of those are based on desire- my carrying it up the mountain bc I want water, the clerk selling it bc he wants to run a business, etc. And it will cease, at first I thought it already had when I lost it (I later found it).  I see I have a memory of a certain me, a certain bottle, I imagine us both as unchanging, as somehow real and mine. The me-ness is what blocks me from seeing the truth, my sameness as water bottles and trees, neither of which can preserve. Its also where all the spinning and suffering begin (just like my worry over 1 particular water bottle, ‘mine’ and no others).

I then started thinking of ways in which I work so hard to make myself special and the pain of the effort (like becoming a vegetarian for 20+years to prove I was more special/ethical than my brother, or the way I had let ‘friends’ talk me into jumping off a bridge as a kid to prove I was cool like them, or the way I worried constantly on how to stay special to my husband). I considered the way I acquire things, like pretty clothes/ hippy shirts, to further build and support that specialness, and the ways I work to preserve those things. I see the changes to myself of course, but I imagine them as selected, curated by myself. Sure I changed career goals, but it was my decision, I chose something better, something more in-line with the values of my new self. Sure I moved past my ‘hippy style’ into something more refined and classy. By subtly adjusting, by glazing those adjustments with an illusion of control, I preserve a cogent sense of self. A uniform being that does change (no more hippy clothes), but only in strictly guarded and allowable ways. My desire to preserve this I is so deep I get exactly what I want — more rebirths to keep this I going — the whole system supports this goal.

The Tuk Tok Pie (i.e. suffering): The peril is so clear too…this is why the sponge in the woods, or my disappointment with the jazz singer not singing “my songs” arises and creates such a problem. Because I think I’m so special I believe others/situations either conform to me or they are wrong (present Alana says, “just look at the whole New York hate, I think a whole city of 8mm people deserves fiery death just because they don’t conform to behavior I think is appropriate”) . It’s the main source of frustration and disappointment in my life.

Additionally, by creating and reinforcing “me” in relation to “mine”, I assume a burden to what’s mine, the burden of finding the water bottle, of placating my husband of preserving my company (its so striking too how this burden changes when we no longer perceive something as ours-for example I don’t give a second thought to placating ex lovers).

Worse of all though, I see so clearly how me is the foundation for the horrible stuff I do to others too. I behaved so badly towards my Mom for so long just because I needed to cling to a particular narrative, an identity as a victim and as the person more deserving of my Father’s love (my specialness).

In the end though, I will decay like the trees. I am the same as the water bottle, as everything in this world. And I suffer because I think I’m not. Because I work so hard to weave stories of how I am special and different, I have forgotten I am the author of these tales, so I have become overly invested, I think they are true.

A note to my readers: this blog is a direct continuation of contemplations from the 2015 Retreat: It’s multiple choice, but I always chose A (i.e.The Problem). If you have not already done so, head back and read that entry before you proceed further.

Background Thoughts: For those of you who may be new to this blog, we are going to skip ahead to a conclusion easily born-out by 100 prior posts (about health, relationships, beauty, fear, etc) — my life, my motives, my actions, my desires, often come down to my deep desire for security and safety,  So, a good preliminary question for a contemplation about jobs, money, security and preserving is: Why oh why do I assume money will keep me safe? Why don’t I assume more time with my beloved, doing things I enjoy, living a laid back life will keep me safe? And why do I feel like a job has to be the biggest job, the most lucrative, to be a path to further jobs and further security and further $. And, even if I have money, a job, a partner or safety in this instant, is it something I can really preserve long-term? What about the Sukatam Lok I so diligently contemplated? In my notes, I referred to these questions as “background thoughts”, to keep in mind as I moved through the ‘meat of my contemplation’.

The Contemplation: When have I tried to preserve, has it worked and what is the cost?

• My Fancy Porsche – Damn I love(d) that car. Sort of. It was also a pain in the ass. I worried about dents, theft, parking near grocery carts. Back when I had a Toyota, I never worried about those things. But the Porsche I had to preserve. Because it was mine. I wanted to be a certain Alana, with a shiny, perfect, fancy car. Some of the time. But, not always, not when I needed gas in a shady hood at night and that Porsche made me feel like a magnet for being robbed. Not when I wanted to avoid jealousy from my coworkers or my boss thinking I didn’t need raises because I was already financially fine. But still, I worked so hard to care for that car.

The funny thing is, back when I had a Toyota, I never wanted a Porsche. Once I had the Porsche, I felt like I couldn’t go back to just a Toyota. Having more made me more vulnerable. More likely to lose something. It was less safe and made preserving all the more difficult…

• I had a little hippy shirt I had found in a thrift store back in college, It was so so so me and I loved it so so so much. But it was already old when I got it, thread bare. I was so selective about the times I chose to wear it, knowing with each trip out of my closet it came closer to its final rip, tear or hole. I would be so careful to avoid stains, sweat. I would sew it each time it ripped. I worried so much about that shirt and long before it died, it fell out of fashion, was no longer so ‘me’. I grew-up, grew-out of hippy style and all that worry, effort to preserve, didn’t even mater because I didn’t want the damn shirt in the end anyway.

• I came to a Kulti (a hut) in the forest that seemed so worn-out. It made me sad. Why had no one tried to preserve it, repaint it, rehammer lost nails, fix the broken gate? My instinct is to overcome the nature, forest, trees trying to take over. To hold back time and decay. The Kulti made me think of myself, my body. My once beautiful skin fading like the paint, my joints creaky like the gate, my body sagging into disrepair. I do try to fight, to preserve. There is botox, creams, makeup, threading, spanx, corset training (I quit that pretty fast as I couldn’t breathe), 100s of hours at the gym, starvation diets. And really does it work? Kind of, a little, enough I keep trying. But do I really still look 20? 30? Can I, ever? The cellulite won’t go away even after a week of starvation, the sagging won’t stop even with every lotion and potion. I so want to be a pretty Alana, a thin Alana, an in control Alana. But even my body betrays my desires.

My head was swimming with examples, exhaustion, I didn’t quite know where to keep going so I decided. Nap time. Yup, I laid down in the forest, closed my eyes and said sweet dreams till next time…

I showed-up at the 2015 retreat with fresh emotional wounds hard won from the struggle of weighty decision making about my husband, Eric’s, next career move. Eric had gotten 2 job offers: A) from a company we will call F.U.ber, from the get-go we expected it would be painfully unpleasant, but secure and lucrative; and B) from a company called Sonos, which we expected to have good work life balance, in a nice Cali Coastal town, but with risky prospects for money and long-term career success. Spoiler alert –we chose A.

The truth is, we always chose A: We always chose the option we perceive of as safe, with financial security and option value for future career prospects. We chose to carefully preserve what we have and ‘keep the door open’ for having the same/more in the future. But this time, the choice wasn’t automatic. It was weighed, agonized over, and when we finally turned our back on the dream of B — a sweet job in a sweet small town with lots of time for other stuff we enjoy – I decided to ask myself why I always chose A? What do I believe about money, security, option value? Is the fight to achieve these things, or the struggle to make such weighty life decisions in general, worth it?

This then My Friends is the launching place for the next few blogs. I will explore my contemplations around these questions, my detour into insight into self and self belonging, and some helpful thoughts from my teachers.

I started out by asking 2 of my teachers, Neecha and LP Nut, for advice on how to proceed. I explained I had started seeing the suffering of being stuck in my patterns, of always choosing A (where A is preserving, security, $ and the option for more  preserving choices, security and $ in the future), but I didn’t know a way out. Here were the replies I got:

Neecha told me a story about a woman who used to drink till she blacked-out every night. She would always ask her husband what happened in the times she couldn’t remember and he would always give sketchy replies. One day, she remembered that her husband had tried to killer her after she had drunk too much. From that day forward, she never drank again out of fear. Fear Neecha explained is the way to stop doing something. It was a good answer, and a true answer, but I wasn’t quite sure how to use it. So I went and asked LP Nut for his thoughts…

LP Nut pointed to a tree in the forest. It had once bore a huge number of pine cones, but it had since fallen down and started to die. He said, the cones were dependent on the tree, the tree on the roots, the roots on sun, soil, rain. We think we can depend on one thing, one person, job, money for security. But the truth is there are so many factors. He said to go look for examples where I quest for security, for preserving. Does it work? At what cost?

This, was something I could work with, that I knew how to begin to tackle. So stay tuned for the next installment in contemplations from the 2015 Retreat…where I think about security and preserving.

A brief introduction to the Jatakas: I suppose it’s not really something most of us Buddhists think about much, but the Buddha, who was superduppermegga awesome in his final life,  took awhile to get there. In fact, the Jataka Tales, which recount the past lives of the Buddha-to-be, have around 550 stories — not exactly instant enlightenment huh?  

To me, it’s pretty heartening really, even the Buddha had to follow a path, perfecting himself along the way, till he became his ultimate awesome self. For someone who usually feels like the fact that I’m not there yet (i.e. enlightened) means I will never ever get there, the Jatakas are pretty darn inspirational.

Anyway, this blog is a brief one about a single moment from a single jataka — the Mahajanaka Jataka — that really touched me. For context, this is the Buddha-to-be’s 9th from last life, after a long arduous journey involving a shipwreck and goddess style saving, the passing of some perilous tests and riddles, and the marriage to a lovely queen, Mahajanaka (soon to be Buddha) becomes the just and beloved king of his homeland, bringing us to the moment of my blog…

The Blog: One day, King Mahajanaka decided to take a walk in one of his gardens.  He came to a place where 2 mango trees stood, one was lush and green, but bore no fruit. The other had a ton of fruit and the king decided to gather a few mangos to eat. They were super delicious so, he thought to himself, “at the end of my stroll, I’ll come back and grab a bit more fruit before I return to the palace”.

Meanwhile, word got out that that the King had eaten from the mango trees. You see, as was the custom, before the king ate the first fruit no one would dare touch the tree. But after he had partaken, everyone felt free to come grab some fruit, so a hoard of people came to eat. By the time the king had returned the tree had been nearly destroyed by the picking and climbing and pushing and shoving. At the same time the fruitless neighbor tree remained untouched, still green and full of life, since there were no mangos for anyone to bother with.

When Mahajanaka came back and saw the two trees again –the fruitful one ravaged and the barren one just fine — he realized that he was like the fruitful mango tree, with a kingdom, riches, subjects, a family and a life filled with so much to lose. “Better” he thought “to be the barren tree and never have anything to take, anything to be beaten for or plundered for, nothing to lose.”   At this point the King decides to renounce the world and worldly possessions, to make himself like the barren tree and leaf (J/K –leave), to become an ascetic.

I have no idea why it was this particular story, this particular telling, that touched me so deeply. But for the first time it really hit my heart: my shit, my peeps, my meness, make me too just like that fruitful mango tree. So pretty, so rich, so smart, so loved, so verdant and abundant and healthful and so so so much to lose. So much to make me a target, a victim, both of outside ravishers (duh) but also of time and withering and wasting and attrition and all the other causes by which a tree can lose fruit and an alana can lose what I hold dear.

I guess its the fact that in this telling, turning away is not a sacrifice. It’s not the high road or the hard decision. It’s not the effort-full forcing to be non-attached, to be ‘what a Buddhist should be’. It’s a way out, a road of ease, peace, salvation. It the natural, even easy, choice once you really see it for what it is.

And though, obviously, I’m still not quite clearly seeing this world for what it is, these days, when I think about my practice, what it can bring me, what it’s really about, I think a whole lot about those mango trees.

Final note: I dedicate this blog to the Buddha — yah, I know, he is already long gone and doesn’t really need any dedication of mine. But still, I have so much gratitude. For the 550ish lives he worked so hard to become the Buddha and then, when it wasn’t necessary, when it was a bunch of work, when he had already become a Buddha so what more merritt did he need, when he could have just been a silent Buddha like so many others, he decided to teach. He left behind a legacy, a friggin roadmap and a compass, for slow pokes like me. He left behind hope…so Great Dharma Lord, this blogs for you.

Dear Reader — This blog is a direct continuation of the last blog, I Won’t Be Leaving on That Jet Plane. If you haven’t already read that one go ahead and do so before you continue here.

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Over one weekend nothing outside really changed. And yet, a whole new ‘Jet set’ life, with new possibilities, was born in my head. And then in my head it died. Was Jet inherently risky/undesirable (as I had assumed at the start of the weekend) or was it an escape from the risk of Eric’s company, to a secure and wonderful new life (as I assumed by the end of the weekend)? It’s like Schrodinger’s Cat *, alive/dead at the same time, risky/safe NY at the same time, awesome/shitty job at the same time, it all just depends on the perspective of the viewer. It depends on my perspective… Step 1 of easing my pain and seeing the truth – see clearly that it is me, my perception, that is generating it in the first place.

Squiggly line fade-out……….

I was sitting in a pool at my favorite resort in Sonoma, relaxing and thinking, “this pool IS relaxing.” Then I noticed all the dead bugs. I though, “this pool, which I think of as relaxing is a death trap to those bugs.” The water is just water, the pool just a pool, but its value, its meaning, that is subjective.

Jet is a job, NY is a city. Are these things good or bad? Relaxing or death trap? Neither or both? The truth is I wasn’t sure. The problem is my fact finding and interpretation skills are notoriously crappy, bringing me to Step 2 of easing my pain and seeing the truth – prove that I am a fickle little liar.

Well, this blog is certainly filed with evidence that, at best, my interpretations of situations change as do my desires. Shit, the Jet story alone is strong evidence… after all in 48 hours both my reading of the situation and my desire changed. There is the jury duty story, vegetarian/pork loving alana, the sponge in the forest story. Even whether I think oatmeal is healthy or toxic has changed 4 times in 8 years. I, my mind, they change.

Moreover, I am a liar. I lied about me being the victim and my Mom the evil victimizer. I lied about my Dad being a saint and my Mom being a devil. I lied about what it is to cheat, about my value as an employee, about my being a compassionate alana just because I give hugs to homeless people. I lie/tell stories because it makes me feel I can control the way I am seen by others and how I see myself. I lie to uphold the self-created “narrative of the world” that I am a good person, good people get good outcomes, so I am safe from harm (this is a serious summarizing of a number of past blogs).

Step 3 of easing my pain and seeing the truth – poke around till I find reality.

In just a few days I reinterpreted the Jet situation. It went from negative/risky to safe/desirable to hella disappointment in a flash. It just swung from one extreme to the next. In truth, Jet, NY, water and pools, all contain risks and safety, pros and cons. Imagine that—its like there are two sides. But my imagination played favorite with certain ‘facts’ so first Jet was revolting and then, with new ‘facts’ with new re-imagining, it was desirable. No neutral heart to be found here. Hence, the suffering…

So the final step, ask the question — Is it worth it? (i.e. what is the suffering of the situation) — It was such a painful week. The suffering had so many components:

1)The first was the pains it took to change my perception. First I worried about Jet and security, then I had to convince myself to take it to see it as safe. Once I did…

2) I experienced the pain of loss. I had already assumed an identity and it was rejected, taken from me. I in fact felt worse than if I had never had it. Because, in order to sell it to myself as a good outcome, as desirable, I had to build it into my identity. When the identity was crushed it made me feel hopeless for the future and a sense of loss of the opportunity.

3) Jet made Eric’s current work situation feel even more “risky,” like we had missed our best escape raft. In order to convince ourselves to take the Jet job we had drawn a future with Jet in it and that by being there my need for security was met. Therefore, losing it, by definition, had to make me less secure. Already feeling that way heightened sensitivity to insecurity, it made other options outside of the secure Jet seem worse. When evidence, possible layoffs, came our way, I immediately read it back into the Jet is secure narrative I had written just to convince myself to take it. By creating an imaginary island of security, I actually succeeded in making myself feel more insecure when I had to deal with all situations off that island.

Worse, when I create islands in my mind, places to go or places to avoid, I set the conditions for trying to navigate there or away. I set conditions for continued re-birth. I set conditions for struggle. In this lie I already lived on the island I wanted.

4) In just the course of the weekend I experienced the pain of uncertainty, the sheer turmoil and grief of deciding and then the excitement and then the let down. My emotions took a roller coaster ride just based on what I wanted, based on what I imagined it would be.

It makes me reflect on how painful life is, how changeable my desires are. And then how feeble my joy and disappointment are. So much struggle hinging on desires and imaginations that change constantly. Just because in my mind they feel so real, so permanent. The solution then, find neutral, re-train my mind to see when my imagination runs wild, and bring it back to center, to seeing both sides…

Final thought from present day Alana – The ironic part of this story is, at the time, I was so disappointed that Eric didn’t get the Jet job, that we didn’t move to NY. Now however, I see it as a reprieve. I hate NY so much…had I known then what I do now, I would have celebrated like an inmate on death row that gets a stay of execution, a stay in San Fran for another few years. Further proof still…I’m a fickle little liar.

It was mid 2015 and Eric’s company was on the rocks. Massive layoffs were on the way and, like everyone else, Eric was looking for a way off a sinking ship. So, when he got a call for a great job in NY, at a startup named Jet, you would think I would be delighted. But, I was anti-delighted…The company (a startup), the move to a new uber expensive city (NY), it all felt too risky. Still, I reluctantly supported my hubs and we went together to NY for his interview.

The more we heard about the job, the company, the team, the founder, the more excited we became. Finally, after 2 days of deep discussions, after I met the founder for coffee, heard the whole business pitch, we were in! New York here we come. Yipee!!!

The recruiter told Eric he was going to get the job for sure. No other decent candidates had even applied. Then, at the last moment, another candidate dropped from the sky — literally, she took her private helicopter into town for a last-minute interview…

In the 24 hours between Eric and I ‘deciding to take the job,’ and him learning the job was going to the helicopter woman, my mind had already erected the image of a bright new future, a new identity, a new NY life. When that image was shattered with just a few words, “you didn’t get the job”, my heart ached so badly with the loss. But…how exactly could I be hurt by a loss of something I never had to begin with?

The fact is, in one weekend I took the very same situation –a new job/move to NY — and reinterpreted it. First I imagined scary, hard, risky, broke life. Then I imagined fun adventure, safety from Eric’s sinking ship job and wealth from a startup getting big. Like with the sand paintings, the jazz song, my mind took a bare bones situation and it colored in a whole elaborate narrative of what my life would be like. My desire for Jet was born in a flash, in a flash it was mine, a part of my life, a life that I lost before it ever began. The narrative I built was so sticky, it came to feel so real, it became what I desired, and when I ‘lost it’ the pain really was real.

With real pain, I was in need of a real solution.  How can I fix this? Mae Yo already told me of course, I need to bring my heart to neutral. It should be easy, after all, in just 2 days I went from not wanting Jet to wanting it. I went from seeing all cons to seeing all pros. I just needed to merge them, to see both sides.

But first things first. I need to convince my thick brain/heart to see I created the desire, so I created the pain, so I must be able to un-create it too. Stay tuned, in the next blog we will start from the starting place–little ole lying Alana–and see if we can’t get to the truth.  

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.