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Sand to Make A Fool of Me

Sand to Make A Fool of Me

I had been reading the NY Times  and I came across an article that completely blew my mind: https://www.nytimes.com/2020/11/09/science/what-makes-sand-soft.html  — it was about sand.  Apparently, this seemingly simple, everyday substance poses one of the deepest challenges to physics, so much so that despite the efforts of some of science’s greatest minds, there exists no ‘general theory of sand’.

Even in a closed system, like an hourglass, where you know the shape and size of the particles encased, the variables of how exactly they will interact are too numerous. There is no way to know how long it will take sand to flow, or even if it will flow at all. All you can do is flip the glass and see.

 I honestly couldn’t believe it, I found it viscerally unsettling. I  just kept wondering at how something so obvious, so simple, so friggin ancient and low-tech as sand in a jar, could be unpredictable. And then, like any good mindblown Buddhist, I turned inward and asked myself why learning a basic fact about the universe was so shocking/shaking to me. What was it about the unpredictability of lowly sand that was sending me on a mind trip?
I felt like a fool: You see, on some level, I really believe I can game the system. With more knowledge, with study, with resources, I will be able to ‘interpret rupa’ and by learning its secrets I can use it freely. I can predict the future and have the right rupa to prepare me for it. I can be on top and stay on top. I can be surrounded by an environment that is comfy and safe. This is the premise, the silent assumptions, that underlie my desire — my willingness — to be born into an otherwise terrifying, Dukka laden world.
The problem is, if the great minds of our time can’t really predict rupa as simple as sand, what hope do I have of predicting complex systems like bodies, my body, and belongings, my belongings? With sand, there are too many factors, variables, to calculate in even a basic, contained, hourglass situation — the size of each grain, their texture, the way they fall and interact together– all you can do is flip the glass and see what happens. So how do I expect to have a leg-up in this world with ‘knowledge’ that guarantees me a particular outcome? How do I expect to have control of rupa — use it as a tool to prepare me, guard me, comfort me in this life — when I can’t even predict it. How can you control something you that can’t even be predicted?
When I strip away the illusion of control, of knowing, of being able to marshal resources to plot the direction of my life, I am left with the reality that I just need to  flip the glass and see what happens. In a Dukka laden world that really is a terrifying prospect that only a fool would agree to.
Lessons of the Leaves 2

Lessons of the Leaves 2

 

In  the fall of 2020, with Covid still raging, and Eric and I still ‘sheltering in place’, we decided it was time to rent a country home — at least if we were going to be isolated, we could do it with plenty of space to spread out in.
We found a nice sized home in Northern CT and signed a lease. Suddenly, all of my thoughts were consumed with the stresses of moving (in a pandemic no less); stress over hiring a  moving company, stress over decorating, stress over buying new furniture online since we still weren’t visiting stores, stress over if we got a good deal on the place, stress over maintenance…in the midst of a near panic attack,  I realized just how much I suffer for my stuff, just how much stress I endure in the hopes of creating, and then abiding in, an environment I like. I seek pleasure/satisfaction in rupa, but I endure mental and physical anguish trying to arrange/force rupa into a state I find pleasurable. 
A few weeks ago, the earliest reds and yellows and oranges of fall had begun to brighten the leaves of some of the trees outside my window. I was so excited, especially in the long and boring Covid year, for the season’s change; impatiently I cursed the slow to change green trees, the ‘boring evergreens’, that were holding-up fall’s full glory. Now though, fall was past peak and the trees were mostly bare and brown.  As I looked out, I was so thankful for those evergreens, that I had cursed just a few weeks ago, because they were the only splash of color in an otherwise bleak view.
Looking out the window, trying to calm my moving qualms, I reflected further on the trees, and I realized my deep misunderstanding of rupa: Rupa forms –homes, trees — really don’t bow to me, they do not exist to give me satisfaction or to create an environment  I like. Anything that takes a form I like, such as a perfectly fall colored tree, does so only because its nature allows it to do so, because the causes and conditions for that state have been met, not because I desire/hope for/control it/force it. And it will eventually change to a different form according to its nature. All while my own preferences are shifting as well, pushing the hope of satisfaction in these objects even further out of reach.
I stress over renting and arranging a house because I imagine that eventually it will bring me satisfaction, that it will be the perfectly curated environment I desire. The problem is that rupa does not exist to satisfy my desires. Those occasions in which I am pleased with a particular state of form, a particular color of leaf, are just sometimeses, I don’t have a full picture of how they will change in the future. I try to use sometimes states to bring me satisfaction, but the truth is that they bring me stress –the stress of trying to bring them about, the stress of trying to keep them, and the stress over their loss. Stress that never really buys satisfaction because what is temporary and changeable only ever leads to thirst.
A Hotel Room and Its Accompaniments

A Hotel Room and Its Accompaniments

I started thinking that this Alana life — the body and the samutti that is Alana — is like a hotel room. While I am a guest, I get all the accompaniments to the rooms: I can use the pillows, robes, slippers, objects that ‘belong to the room’ (i.e self belongings) and I receive the status of being a guest at the property with the accompanying treatment (the way I get treated as Alana the degreed professional, or Alana the accomplished yogi). But as soon as I check-out, all the accompaniments go as well.

I contemplated in this way because, for some time,  I have been stuck: I keep telling myself I can’t ‘give up’ this body/ I must cling to it as mine, because I ‘need it’ — it is the vessel necessary to receive the accompaniments of my life, the accompaniments that I love. It is essential to keep my wealth, my status, to be recognized and adored by my loved ones.  I took this form, got myself born into this body, and then I proceeded to I imbue it with meaning. I embraced the samiti and the identity, I attached myself to the accompaniements, I clung to the fantasiese that I think it will allow me to manifest. But the thing is, the body dies. Like a hotel room,  whether I am happy with my stay, or miserable, eventually, I need to checkout.
I pretend I am in control; like by clinging to this body I can actually hold onto the life I adore, like it is up to me whether or not I ‘give-up’ either on body or acompaniments. But this is rediculous, becasue, cling or not, when my time is up at a hotel I need to check out; when my time is up in this body, I need to check out.

Getting stuck on ‘needing’ an Alana body is crazy.  Afterall, after I die, I clearly don’t need it for what is next, based on the fact that when the next thing comes, I don’t have it. The truth is, I don’t need this body. I want this body and I want the accompaniement of my life which require this body. That is something  different than needing it. When I consider it in terms of want, I can apply all my past contemplations on whether or not this world bends to my desire, follows my will or rules. Or whether or not this body bends to my desire, follows my will or rules. Can I really use what doesn’t bend to my desire, or follow my rules to ‘manifest’ me, Alana, WHO I AM? Of course I can’t.  I cling in futility; this is not freedom, this is not Alana Pwning, deciding the fate of the accompaniemnts, of my life, via the fate of the body. This is just delusion and the suffering of my efforts and inevitable failure.

There is Nothing Special About Being a Cause

There is Nothing Special About Being a Cause

Following my retreat, I sent a few updates to Mae Neecha about my contemplations, progress and ongoing work; this is the second blog  recapping  those messages

Part 2 – Second Email

I wanted to follow-up on my email yesterday with just a little more deep dive on 1 issue that has been weighing on me –the idea that because I can be a cause I am somehow special, or my objects (especially body) represent me, or something I cause in the rupa world otherwise proves something innate about me. Here are just a few of my thoughts on this and how I have/am going about attacking this particularly stubborn issue:

1) Beaver Dam and my Finger on the Scale Deciding What Causes Mean Someone is ‘Valuable‘ and What Causes are Insignificant  — a while back I came across a beaver dam hiking. It was a good looking dam as dams go, and that is when it dawned on me: The beaver causes the dam, but I am never super impressed with the beaver. I think nothing of it. Which was my first glimmer into the problem that my nama is a choosy narrator. I select which causes to ‘pay attention to’ and interpret as somehow meaningful/indicating some deep or great quality that exists in the  causer. I don’t care about sports, so I am not super impressed with a basketball player causing a score, but I love art, so the painting an artist creates makes that painter a great artist. The truth is, the world is full of beings who are causes, that isn’t something so special. But I choose which beings, which causes to assign value to. This was really my awakening that my finger is on the scale.
2)  Rosacea Flare-up and the Difference Between Being a Cause and Guaranteeing a Result:  My rosacea  was flaring (a  4 e process) and I wanted to ‘fix’ my skin, so I exerted my control — I called my doc and got her to prescribe a cream that ended up helping. As I was standing in front of the mirror I started to feel proud, of my skin and of the results I got in my fixit attempt. I realized though, that this time around, I put in place a cause and got a result I wanted. But there have been other times I called the doc and got a script that did, seemingly, nothing at all, times I have called the doc and got a script that made the rosacea worse, and 1 time that I got a script that made the rosacea better, but it had horrible side effects and I had constant headaches. It made me see that I can absolutely be a cause — I can change the course of my 4-e body’s march through shifting aggregated elemental states — but I can’t guarantee that I am going to get the results I want. At the end of the day, it is really the results I care about. Continuing to build identity around being a cause, or believing that because I can be a cause for my objects they will represent me, doesn’t make a whole lot of sense given that I can’t control the effects that my causes help to put in place.
3) Fit or Flabby, Alana has to Die — I know that rupa may only contain 4es, but its particular state does reflect the causes that brought it to that state –so boiling water does reflect the process of heating that brought it to the boiling state.
This got me very stuck on how a particular state of my body does in fact reflect something about the Alana nama that brought it to be in that state. I was thinking about a time when I was super fit. In my mind, that level of physical fitness reflected my extreme will power –to manage my diet, to manage my exercise –it made me proud. Though that level of fitness is long gone (showing its impermanence already), in my mind, I can’t help feel like, even if just for a moment, my body represented something important about me, a trait that I so deeply associate with myself. That with enough effort (which is always what I think I can bring to the table), I can at least momentarily get this body to represent me.
Honestly, I got so stuck on this I almost reached-out for help, but I gave myself another week to figure it out before I bugged you. Then Chadwich Boseman died (Black Panther actor). That dude was beyond fit (not to mention hot, talented and successful), but he died anyway. I imagine that his body, his career, all reflected his discipline, but it didn’t keep him for death, and death at a young age to boot. Somehow, this made me see that these brief moments of arrangement I fight so hard to obtain, so I can reflect something about myself, are sort of dwarfed by the end state we all come to. Its not exactly a perfect fix for this issue of body representing me, but it is the reason I have started thinking more ardently about death — the end, the fact that no matter what, I part ways with this body, is sort of the most persuasive argument I can come-up with that it is not really mine, it can’t be depended on, and if it isn’t mine or dependable, it is hard to make it  reflection of myself. Anyway, this is still a work in progress, but at least I think it is moving.
4) Wrong View as The Cause — A friend was talking to me about her many issues at work, and she didn’t even know where to start fixing them. But when I looked at her list of stuff — not speaking up, asking the same questions repeatedly, not leading — I realized that while I didn’t know her exact underlying wrong view, it sure looked like her issues were arising from one wrong view, or a wrong view and its kissing cousins. It made me remember something I somehow had lost sight of — all of our behaviors arise from our views (ahh the ole 8 Fold Path).
It got me to consider my own fit body represents ‘extreme willpower’ view.  I have already spent so much time contemplating how I don’t control my body (nothing like pissing myself to really drive that point home) and it is pretty clear that extreme willpower is a kissing cousin of control. When I think about it this way, it seems hard to ignore the causality chain — if fit body represents what I perceive to be its cause, my extreme willpower, doesn’t it also need to represent the cause of that cause — Alana’s wrong views about control and my body?
 If my behavior represents who I am, and my behavior is driven by my views –many of which practice has helped me understand are wrong — than am I not saying that who I am is a bundle of views, many being wrong? Is that really the me I want to be/claim? And if I am my views then how do I reconcile being a fixed me with clear evidence those views are continually changing?
I know this one maybe a little past the rupa basics — proving rupa can’t reflect the nama not just because rupa changes, but because nama is so changeable too, both sorta changing at their own rates, marching off in their own directions.
But, all together it gives me a real check at the door, for the belief that some physical trait, that my own choosy narrator has decided to elevate, that can be a cause but can’t guarantee a result (I mean seriously I have so many fitness injuries), that is temporary and can’t defeat death, and that has a shadow cause I may not really want to claim as  the ‘me I want to be’, is going to represent a good/special Alana.
Anyway, all a work in progress, but I wanted to send a deeper drill-down on this particular topic because it has been a bit of a hang-up for me.
20,000 Leagues to Sotapanahood

20,000 Leagues to Sotapanahood

Following my retreat, I sent a few updates to Mae Neecha about my contemplations, progress and ongoing work; here is a recap of those messages.

Part 1 — First Email
Last night I was thinking back to a very strong childhood memory: as a young kid, my parents would take me to Disneyworld and I would rush to my very favorite ride –20,000 Leagues Under the Sea. It was a Jules Verne themed ride where you got into a ‘submarine’ and got to see some of the best adventure scenes from the book play out. I so loved that ride!
I went back to Disney in high school, it had been many years since my last visit, and I again rushed toward my favorite ride. Only this time, I saw something different as I waited in the interminably long line: I saw a pond of polluted water, with trash floating in it. A ‘submarine’ that was just a toy on a track visible from the surface. Once I got in I noticed the ride was filthy and the great adventure scenes I remembered so vividly from my childhood were just plastic panoramas. Honestly, I was crushed with disappointment.
After that trip, my little teenage mind derived a ‘lesson’ from the experience — don’t look back, don’t revisit things you enjoyed in childhood because you are setting yourself up for disappointment when it is not what you remember. Obviously, this was an idiot’s lesson, that I should nourish my delusion just because I don’t like what I see when I face it head on.
Later in my life, during a dhamma contemplation, I looked back at this and realized it was proof of the problem with #3 (memory), even if that very selective curator remembers the truth, it does nothing to guarantee that it remains the same now or in the future. Which is a fine lesson, but it misses the extremely important and extremely obvious…
My change in perspective was literally nothing more than seeing the rupa for what it really is. As a kid, the rupa of the ride was so tied up with my memory and imagination, my fantasies. As a teen, going back, I couldn’t help notice the rupa for what it was and I became disillusioned; there was no way to unsee what I saw.
 I now understand that this 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea experience has to be a parallel for the process of becoming a sotapanna.  It is so clear what my path is now. I need to see rupa for exactly what it is and understand that it is not some medium/manifestation for my fantasies. It’s not mine. Even when it takes the form I want, such that it seems to confirm something I believe about me or mine or this world, that form is so so so friggen temporary – it is a sometimes. But like a fool, I pay attention only to the sometimeses I like , and ignore all the sometimeses I don’t like.
I have started thinking about each and every rupa object as a bundle of elements that come together and then start their march through shifting states/elemental arrangements. Rupa objects interact with each other, with the environments, and they can alter course (though never go backwards) — Alana can use her rupa body and rupa objects to poke and cause course alterations (though I have had 1 too many Korean beauty product breakouts to think that I can ensure that my causing/poking guarantees the result that I desire) —  but the final destination is always the same, disaggregation or consumed (or some combination of the two).
That is sorta all there is to it, arising, marching, ceasing. There are reasons why I believe there is more to it. Reasons I believe some shit is mine or not mine. But all my reasons in the world don’t actually change the basic truth of what shit is — I will never find ‘meaning’ or ‘value’ hidden somewhere in the ingredient list of earth, wind, fire and water. It is just not there.
I have long mistaken utility for value. I have fooled myself into thinking I can buy something with this money, I can drive somewhere with this car,  so these things have an innate quality –a value. But if I look again, I realize the truth is, in some circumstances I can use the money to buy things, use the car to go somewhere; all it takes is a currency collapse, or a dead battery, or countless other changes in circumstances for these things to be useless. Value is like pregnancy — you are or you aren’t — if changing circumstance can change the value of a car or money, than it pretty much proves that all I can assign to these items is utility (Alana, or any other rupa being, can use in some cases for some of the time).
The one that really gets me, isn’t my body per se, it is the samutti my body supports. I have gotten so stuck on this idea that I need my body to build the life/trappings of an Alana — an education, credit rating, professional experiences, friends and family who recognize me, the kit-n-kiboodle of ‘recognizable identity’ upon which I build this Alana life.  Then I realized, just as I use this samutti, so do others: Eric to recognize me, the bank to check my credit record, etc. The fact that others people use it makes it so clear, the body and the sammutti it supports, are both just usable things (utility = temporary versus value which = innate/permanent).
Like a credit card, I can use this body and this samutti for all sorts of stuff, but if I loose it, it is gone, no matter what use I have put it to in the past and no matter what I imagine I will be able to use it for in the future. This idea that the body is mine because it supports a ‘life’ I want and ‘need’ is as crazy as saying a credit card is mine because I want and need it. It doesn’t make it less losable, or stealable, or cancelable.  My mind just likes to but, but but… excuses to confuse me in the face of such a glaringly bald truth.
Anway now my singular mission is driving this home. I am contemplating death often: mine, others, past, future, human, animal and object,  not simply as a fact, but in intricate detail vis-a-vie the dissolution of an elemental aggregate. I think about how we all part ways with each other. How I play a role and when that role is done, it is over and done.
None of this is new. But what is new is exactly how sure I am about all this: what the path is, what the endpoint is and how to traverse it. I refuse to keep waiting in interminably long lines, to get on crappy rides that ultimately disappoint me,  just because I turn a blind eye to the difference between what the ride is and what I want it to be. It is enough already.
Part 2 – Second Email
I wanted to follow-up on my email yesterday with just a little more deep dive on 1 issue that has been weighing on me –the idea that because I can be a cause I am somehow special, or my objects (especially body) represent me, or something I cause in the rupa world otherwise proves something innate about me. Here are just a few of my thoughts on this and how I have/am going about attacking this particularly stubborn issue:

1) Beaver Dam and my Finger on the Scale Deciding What Causes Mean Someone is ‘Valuable‘ and What Causes are Insignificant  — a while back I came across a beaver dam hiking. It was a good looking dam as dams go, and that is when it dawned on me: The beaver causes the dam, but I am never super impressed with the beaver. I think nothing of it. Which was my first glimmer into the problem that my nama is a choosy narrator. I select which causes to ‘pay attention to’ and interpret as somehow meaningful/indicating some deep or great quality that exists in the  causer. I don’t care about sports, so I am not super impressed with a basketball player causing a score, but I love art, so the painting an artist creates makes that painter a great artist. The truth is, the world is full of beings who are causes, that isn’t something so special. But I choose which beings, which causes to assign value to. This was really my awakening that my finger is on the scale.
2)  Rosacea Flare-up and the Difference Between Being a Cause and Guaranteeing a Result:  My rosacea  was flaring (a  4 e process) and I wanted to ‘fix’ my skin, so I exerted my control — I called my doc and got her to prescribe a cream that ended up helping. As I was standing in front of the mirror I started to feel proud, of my skin and of the results I got in my fixit attempt. I realized though, that this time around, I put in place a cause and got a result I wanted. But there have been other times I called the doc and got a script that did, seemingly, nothing at all, times I have called the doc and got a script that made the rosacea worse, and 1 time that I got a script that made the rosacea better, but it had horrible side effects and I had constant headaches. It made me see that I can absolutely be a cause — I can change the course of my 4-e body’s march through shifting aggregated elemental states — but I can’t guarantee that I am going to get the results I want. At the end of the day, it is really the results I care about. Continuing to build identity around being a cause, or believing that because I can be a cause for my objects they will represent me, doesn’t make a whole lot of sense given that I can’t control the effects that my causes help to put in place.
3) Fit or Flabby, Alana has to Die — I know that rupa may only contain 4es, but its particular state does reflect the causes that brought it to that state –so boiling water does reflect the process of heating that brought it to the boiling state.
This got me very stuck on how a particular state of my body does in fact reflect something about the Alana nama that brought it to be in that state. I was thinking about a time when I was super fit. In my mind, that level of physical fitness reflected my extreme will power –to manage my diet, to manage my exercise –it made me proud. Though that level of fitness is long gone (showing its impermanence already), in my mind, I can’t help feel like, even if just for a moment, my body represented something important about me, a trait that I so deeply associate with myself. That with enough effort (which is always what I think I can bring to the table), I can at least momentarily get this body to represent me.
Honestly, I got so stuck on this I almost reached-out for help, but I gave myself another week to figure it out before I bugged you. Then Chadwich Boseman died (Black Panther actor). That dude was beyond fit (not to mention hot, talented and successful), but he died anyway. I imagine that his body, his career, all reflected his discipline, but it didn’t keep him for death, and death at a young age to boot. Somehow, this made me see that these brief moments of arrangement I fight so hard to obtain, so I can reflect something about myself, are sort of dwarfed by the end state we all come to. Its not exactly a perfect fix for this issue of body representing me, but it is the reason I have started thinking more ardently about death — the end, the fact that no matter what, I part ways with this body, is sort of the most persuasive argument I can come-up with that it is not really mine, it can’t be depended on, and if it isn’t mine or dependable, it is hard to make it  reflection of myself. Anyway, this is still a work in progress, but at least I think it is moving.
4) Wrong View as The Cause — A friend was talking to me about her many issues at work, and she didn’t even know where to start fixing them. But when I looked at her list of stuff — not speaking up, asking the same questions repeatedly, not leading — I realized that while I didn’t know her exact underlying wrong view, it sure looked like her issues were arising from one wrong view, or a wrong view and its kissing cousins. It made me remember something I somehow had lost sight of — all of our behaviors arise from our views (ahh the ole 8 Fold Path).
It got me to consider my own fit body represents ‘extreme willpower’ view.  I have already spent so much time contemplating how I don’t control my body (nothing like pissing myself to really drive that point home) and it is pretty clear that extreme willpower is a kissing cousin of control. When I think about it this way, it seems hard to ignore the causality chain — if fit body represents what I perceive to be its cause, my extreme willpower, doesn’t it also need to represent the cause of that cause — Alana’s wrong views about control and my body?
 If my behavior represents who I am, and my behavior is driven by my views –many of which practice has helped me understand are wrong — than am I not saying that who I am is a bundle of views, many being wrong? Is that really the me I want to be/claim? And if I am my views then how do I reconcile being a fixed me with clear evidence those views are continually changing?
I know this one maybe a little past the rupa basics — proving rupa can’t reflect the nama not just because rupa changes, but because nama is so changeable too, both sorta changing at their own rates, marching off in their own directions.
But, all together it gives me a real check at the door, for the belief that some physical trait, that my own choosy narrator has decided to elevate, that can be a cause but can’t guarantee a result (I mean seriously I have so many fitness injuries), that is temporary and can’t defeat death, and that has a shadow cause I may not really want to claim as  the ‘me I want to be’, is going to represent a good/special Alana.
Anyway, all a work in progress, but I wanted to send a deeper drill-down on this particular topic because it has been a bit of a hang-up for me.
Bite Me

Bite Me

I had an adorable pair of socks, they had a little cartoon apple on them and below the smiling apple face, they said  ‘bite me’. When I saw those socks in the store, they made me chuckle aloud; I bought them imagining all the platies and yoga classes I would attend, where everyone could see my socks and laugh along with me, basking in my cleverness and my rye sense of humor.  Now, the socks were starting to become threadbare, in the months since the pandemic had begun, no one but Eric and I had seen those socks, there was no one else to laugh at them, to affirm me in relation to them.

I began to consider the socks more closely, I asked myself: “Do these socks prove who I am?” I bought them because I thought they expressed my sense of humor, they affirmed this important aspect of my personality. I bought them because, according to me, at that time, in that fresh-new-sock-state, I believed they reflected something about myself.  Now though, they just look like sad, worn out socks. Now, unseen by anyone else, they don’t even have the opportunity to affirm me at all. So can these socks, that wear out, that depend on circumstances in which they are seen, really prove anything about me? Do they prove my value?

I thought more about what it is those socks are able to prove and suddenly I realized: These socks, sitting in my laundry pile, prove  that, at least at the moment I bought them, I believed they proved something about me. Having these socks today prove that once upon a time, when I pulled my credit card out in the store, I believed these socks could represent me, affirm me, prove my humor and cleverness.  These socks prove nothing but the fact that I held a delusion about them, at least long enough, to buy them, to claim them, to make them ‘mine’.

Its true, that in the store, all those years ago, as I gazed at the socks, imagining our future together, I claimed them as mine, as representatives of my humor. They were my statement to this world — a cute, clever, ‘bite me’. Now though, as I see them all ratty and tattered, I had to ask myself: “Does claiming an object actually change the reality of the object I claim?” I mean, if it did, would these cute, once beloved socks be so beaten-up, would they be on lock-down in my house along with me, rather than out there –virus be damned– broadcasting my awesomeness to the world? No, claiming an object doesn’t seem to change the object at all, the only thing claiming an object seems to change is me.

Claiming an object changes my expectations of how an object will act; my socks will act in my service, bring me satisfaction, go out into the world, lookin good, and represent me. Claiming an object changes my behavior. I need to figure out how to clean the socks, stitch the holes; I use rupa thread and rupa detergent to manipulate rupa socks, trying to bring them to, and help them sustain, a state that I like, a state I imagine will bring me satisfaction and will affirm my sense of who I am to the world.  But, independent of my expectations, independent of my efforts, I have a worn-out pair of tattered socks, cowering in my laundry basket, avoiding the world. I have socks that prove what they are –4e objects subject to rips and tears and degradation — not who I am. I have socks that prove my beliefs — the ignorance with which I bought them hoping they would somehow be more.

The Poison Pill of Sometimes

The Poison Pill of Sometimes

After days using the exercise from the Anatta-Lakkhana sutra to contemplate my belongings and my body it started to become increasing clear to me that each object I contemplated on –every object in the world — is just marching through the shifting states of rupa. Clearly it isn’t you, you cant say that any of the 4 elements in any given combination, that will definitely disaggregate, is you. It isn’t representative of you either — it represents its march – its process of entropy, its process of shifting, the object represents the nature of rupa itself to move toward, and ultimately arrive at, the cessation of any given form. I can use rupa objects to interact with other rupa objects, possibly causing them to change, within the scope of rupa rules; but that doesn’t make something mine, it doesn’t mean it reflects me, these objects are simply acting in accord with their nature, not affirming me. And yet, sometimes, the states they achieve seem to align so closely with my desires it almost seems they affirm me…
Previously, I had spent many months caught up on the idea that by being a cause, by being able to use one rupa object to change another rupa object, I was special, or unique or that I could get what I wanted. But now I see, what I want is a result, I couldn’t care less about being the cause. But even when I am the cause, no particular result is guaranteed. Its just that sometimes the result I want does in fact happen, and when it does I assign meaning, presume power, to myself as the cause.

Recently my rosacea was flaring, my skin was red, burning, I had pimples and pustules galore. This is a 4e process.  My nama wants to ‘fix’ the skin, bring it back to a less inflamed state that I prefer, that better ‘represents’ beautiful me. Immediately I get to imagining ways to fix. My memory of my Dr. helping in the past prompts me to give her a call. She prescribes a cream and ‘voila’, it helps. Why? Because in this instance, the 4es of the cream interact with the 4es of my skin and calm the redness and pain.

The thing is, there have been sometimes I called the doc and got a script and it made the rosacea worse. There have been sometimes I called the doc and got a script and the rosacea got better, but I had horrible side effects from the drugs and had to stop using them. So sure, I can be a cause, sometimes that cause achieves a desired result, but there is no way I can guarantee a result. Without guaranteeing a result –without ALWAYS — I can’t possibly claim control of this world, or ‘my objects’: I can’t rely on them to take shapes I believe reflect me, I can’t depend on them being there for me, they can’t affirm I am some special-exceptional-master-of-the-universe because they don’t act in accord with my wishes or rules, they simply act in accord with their nature –shifting when the causes for a shift have been met, with total disregard for my desired result.

Even when I am able to cause an object to change into a state I desire, it remains in that state only temporarily. This was not my first rosacea flare, in the past I had flares that I had tempered with  meds. The problem was, the meds had stopped working. Nor was this the first time a med had stopped working; countless times I had a flare, cleared it with a drug, and then had the drug stop working. Flare, new drug, remission, flare, new drug, remission, flare, new drug, remission, flare. Each time I  manage a remission, I feel victorious, in control, I have forced my skin back to the state it is ‘supposed’ to be in, the state I imagine my skin looks. But the truth is it is a momentary state, it is only a SOMETIMES STATE. And as much as I only want the sometimeses that I like to represent me — the young, the pretty the less red and bumpy and itchy — I can’t just isolate those states and claim them; my face is the whole path, the whole march, all the states that particular 4e object shift into before its cessation.

As much as I love the sometimes states when they mean a clear skinned remission, I am starting to see that the SOMETIMES STATE is actually a poison pill in a candy’s wrapping because sometimes is  the root of my dissatisfaction/why there is no satisfaction to be had in this word:  I want always (things I love) and never (things I hate). But the alignment of circumstances, factors and causes are always changing — rupa objects are always marching along their shifting states till they reach disaggregation —  so there is never a way I can convert sometimes to always, and disappointment will rush in as soon as the balance of 4es in my skin change and the drug stops working.

Still, those moments when my skin looks great, those sometimeses, are what feed my hope. The sometimes remission is what motivates me to keep calling the doc and trying new drugs whenever a flare comes. Sometimes  is what motivates each new effort, new birth, new becoming to get it ‘right’, to finally force all the arrangements into states that I want, that confirm me, and hold them there forever. This view, this hope, can never happen, and it will always lead to rebirth and more suffering.

 

2020 Retreat Part 8– A Ring/A Body That I Am Forced to Part Ways With Against My Will Can’t be Mine

2020 Retreat Part 8– A Ring/A Body That I Am Forced to Part Ways With Against My Will Can’t be Mine

Day 8: Part 1: Wedding Ring
My wedding ring is not under my control (it was not mine, I had to part ways with it ‘against my will’).
If my wedding ring were under my control, it would have never gotten scratched, or dull or dirty and dead skin never would have caked-up on the inside making it feel sticky.
If my wedding ring were under my control, I would never have had to worry about it sliding down the drain when I did dishes. I would have never had to worry about it getting stolen when I walked through rough neighborhoods. Most of all, if that ring were really mine, I would still have it today, it would have never gotten lost, we would have never had to part ways.
But the very fact that my ring defied my deepest desires — for it to stay shiny and stay clean and stay pristine and, most importantly to stay with me — absolutely proves that ring is not, and never was, under my control.
When the ring rubbed against other solid objects — tables and weights and steering wheels — it scratched. When the ring was exposed to minerals in water, dust in the house, and liquids in food it became dirty and dull. When the skin on my hand got wet and rubbed against the inside of the ring, dead skin would build up and get sticky. When the elements in  the ring’s environment interacted with the ring in such a way that the causes of scratching, dirtying, dulling and skin build-up were met,  scratching, dirtying, dulling and skin build-up ensued.
Moreover, because that ring was never under my control, when the reasons for our separation arose, the result was our separation.  When cold weather caused my fingers to shrink, my fingers shrank. When the friction of my gloves against the ring caused the ring to slip over my shrunken fingers, the ring slipped off.  No matter how dear it was to me, no matter how much I wished it were otherwise, the ring went its way and I went mine.
“Alana, howz about we do the questions?” “You got it Great Dharma Lord.”
1) Is that ring of yours permanent or impermanent?  Clearly Lord, the ring is impermanent. The ring itself is impermanent, with changes in shine and cleanliness and shape. My relationship with the ring is also impermanent, with us having come together, stayed together for a few years, and then the ring getting lost and parting ways with me.
2) Is the impermanence of the ring something that causes you stress or ease? Lord, it was something that was so deeply stressful. As soon as I got the ring, I worried about it constantly, I wanted it to always stay looking clean and shiny and new. Even more, I worried about losing the ring, about it falling off or getting stolen. When it finally did get lost, it broke my heart. I cried and cried. In my mind I  had lost not just a ring, but a symbol of my specialness, my value and my lovableness.
 Now I understand that my pain and stress in relation to the ring was also impermanent: Before I got the ring, I never stressed about it. Now, years after it was lost I am also completely ‘over it’. My stress had a fixed duration  — it lasted only as long as my imagination was wrapped-up with how that ring defined me, and the future that we would have together.
3) So Alana, do you think it is fitting to regard what is impermanent, stressful and which you need to part ways with as: “This is me.” “This is my self.” “This is what I am.”?
Honestly Great Lord, the fact that I lost this ring, that I was forced to part ways with it against my will, is a very persuasive point for the ‘no column’. While I had that ring, I definitely believed it to be mine. Now that the ring and I have been separated for a time, it is so obviously not mine. If it were really mine, shouldn’t it’s mineness continue even after we had parted ways? But the truth is, it didn’t. The ring, undoubtedly continued on being a ring; its elements continued their ever-shifting-arrangement march towards their ultimate consumption or disaggregation. Yet, after a time, I stopped considering it mine. This proves to me that ‘mine’ is in me and not in the ring.
But we have already seen that rings and shoes and plants and retainers and even my body are all going to act in accord with their nature, shifting into various arrangements of elements before ultimately disaggregating and/or being consumed. I will be forced to part with all objects. If I don’t regard them as mine after we part ways, and I don’t regard them as mine before we come together, why should I regard them as mine for the finite period we are together? What is so special about that time — especially when, as we have established, during that together-time I don’t actually control the object?
I chose  to call that ring mine because I believed it would ‘prove’ a set of qualities about myself — that I was valuable and lovable. But how do I really expect a changeable, losable ring to reflect  a set of qualities in myself that I believe are permanent (I know they are not, but that is a contemplation for another day)? Perhaps that is why I am on the endless, exhausting, soul crushing, anxiety provoking, sorrow inducing, treadmill of acquisition; I need more objects to replace ever changing/losing/dying objects to prove ‘who I am’.
When I claimed that ring as mine, I didn’t just try to possess an object, I tried to possess a particular future that I believed the ring could help guarantee — a long marriage, a continued state of being valuable and lovable.  The future I imagined definitely had the wedding ring in it. Real future did not. So doesn’t that prove that the ring was incapable of bringing about the future I envisioned? Without that power, to bring about the future I want, do I really consider it mine? Lets face it, as soon as I stopped imagining a happy future in NY, the house I owned there, which I had bought feeling so sure would be the home-base for a fabulous NY adventure, stopped being ‘mine’ in my headheart even if it was still mine on the deed.
So if an object can’t stay with me, if it can’t eternally reflect a set of characteristics that I believe are eternal and it can’t guarantee my future, what is the point of regarding the object as mine at all? What is the point of being overly concerned with these objects?  How do I justify the particular pain and stress, that arises only in relation to objects I think I own (ie. I don’t feel particularly crushed when someone else’s wedding gets lost), when the objects don’t even do what I think they do and then disappoint me every time?
Day 8: Part 2: My Body is Like My Wedding Ring
My body is not under my control (it is not me, it is not mine, I will have to part ways with it, even if it is against my will).
If my body were under my control it would never get blemishes or lesions, it would never look dull or get dirty and it would never feel sticky or pained.
If my body were under my control, I would never have to worry about catching Covid when I am around others. I would never have to worry about it being taken, raped, when I walk through rough neighborhoods. Most of all, if this body were mine I could guarantee I will have it for as long as I want it,  it would never die, we would never have to part ways.
But the very fact that this body, on a regular basis, defies my deepest desires — for it to stay unscraped and unscathed, clean and pristine, never sick and never pained — absolutely prove that this body is not and never was under my control.
When this body’s elements are caused to rearrange in ways that result in it being scraped or dirtied or aged or sick or pained, scraped or dirtied or aged or sick or pained will ensue. Because this body is not under my control, it can catch Covid if the conditions for catching Covid are met. Because this body is a physical object, it can be taken and used by others when who are  physically capable of taking it and using it. Because this body is not under my control, no matter how desperately I cling to it, no matter how hard I try to take care of it, my will and my actions are incapable of keeping it with me forever.
“Alright Alana its qq time.” “Lets do this Great Dharma Lord.”
1) Is that body of yours permanent or impermanent? Clearly Lord, it is impermanent — I have seen sores arise and heal, I have had joints get torn, teeth get pulled, skin sag and wrinkle, cholesterol go up, blood sugar go down, breathing become labored muscles strengthen and atrophy. I go through states of dirty and clean, hungry and full, tired and alert, healthy and ill. The body’s external form changes, just as its internal organs and other components change. It gets older and it gets sick and eventually it will die.
2) Is the impermanence of the body something that causes you stress or ease? Oh Lord, on a stress scale of 1 to 10 this body is like a friggen 11. I worry about it constantly, I worry about how it looks, how it feels, how it sounds and how it smells. I worry about ageing, I worry about disease and I worry most of all about death.
3) So Alana, do you think it is fitting to regard what is impermanent, stressful, and which you will ultimately need to part ways with as: “This is me.” “This is my self.” “This is what I am.”?
Alright Great Lord, on this one I really hear you. The fact of the matter is that this body is exactly like my ring, I will be forced to part ways with it one of these days , whether I like it or not. How do I know that with such surety you may ask? I know it because this body is made of the exact same stuff – fire/water/wind/earth –  as my ring and as each and every object in this world. The only difference between this body and everything else is simply the proportion of these elements. Because all rupa arises from an aggregation of elements, marches along shifting and changing the arrangement of elements, and then disaggregates or become consumed, it is absolutely certain that this body — a particular aggregation of elements — which has already arisen, will keep shifting its arrangement of elements and will ultimately become disaggregated or consumed.
At the end of my body’s march, its form’s heat, movement, liquids and solids will have to separate and return to the earth; as such they will separate from me for sure. So is something of this world, that follows the rules of this world, and that ultimately separates from me and returns to this world really me or mine?
The truth is I have bound my sense of self up with this body; I depend on it to ‘hold’ together this Alana life — the family, the friends, the belongings, the ideals and values — but this body is not a dependable thing; its continual shifting makes for fragile grounds upon which to build a life, and whether I like it or not, its dissolution is imminent.
When I rent a car, I sign a contract and I know from the get go that I will part ways with it. Sure, while I have it I care for it, but I am not overly concerned about the thing. While I have it I can use it in my travels, I get to drive it from point A to point B. But when the contract is up, and I have to return it, there is no wailing and gnashing of teeth. One time, I rented a particularly fancy car and as I jumped out at the service station someone waved me down to compliment me on my bad ass car. I thanked them, but the comment didn’t stick, it didn’t puff me up,  I knew in my heart the car was a rental — it wasn’t me, it wasn’t mine, it was just something I was driving for 5 days between Orlando and Miami. So how about this body, isn’t it a loaner too? Something I drive between point A and point B, only to return when the contract comes due?
2020 Retreat Part 7 — Fancy Shoes/A Body That Inevitably Decay and Break, As Part of Normal Use, Can’t be Mine

2020 Retreat Part 7 — Fancy Shoes/A Body That Inevitably Decay and Break, As Part of Normal Use, Can’t be Mine

Day 7: Part 1: Louboutin shoes
My louboutins are not under my control (they are not mine, their fading, decaying, breaking and eroding are inevitable — a normal part of their use).
If my louboutins were under my control they would not scuff, the leather would not sag, they would never smell or get sticky and wet inside.
If my louboutins were under my control their shiny red bottoms — the feature that makes them so special and unique — would never fade or scuff or scratch or erode. At the very least, the bottoms wouldn’t rub off so quickly, their razzle dazzle would last for at least a dozen wears, they would carry me through all the galas and parties and work events I imagined wearing them to when I bought the things.
If my louboutins were under my control I could just say, “sweet bottom shoes, stay sexy and non smelly and sleek and new looking, keep flashing a little red to the world.” They would listen to my pleas when I say “please, at least, just hold on a little longer before you lose your red-bottom shine, wait until after my next work event before you breakdown and look so worn.”
But the reality is that those sweet little shoes are not under my control. Although I watch where I walk in them, polish them regularly and wipe them down whenever I finish wearing them , after just a few wears, I see the scuff marks, scratches and chips, wrinkles at the toe, and a faint odeur de’foot is wafting up from their storage box.  This is because the shoes travel through an environment where solid objects — the street and other shoes and rocks and dirt — rub against them causing scuffs and scratches and chips. The shoes spend time on my feet where pressure causes them to stretch and wrinkle, and bacteria and sweat from my body create smell.
This is all normal. When the causes for scuffs and scratches, sags and wrinkles, smells and worn bottoms have been met, these shoes will have scuffs and scratches, sags and wrinkles, smells and worn bottoms. My desire for them to be different, my expectation that they will last a certain amount of time, my imagination of their presence at future events, is all irrelevant.
“Alright then Alana, lets do the questions.” “Alrighty-O Great Dharma Lord.”
1) Are your shoes permanent or impermanent? Clearly Lord, they are impermanent. The way they look now is totally different then how they looked when I pulled them from their box the first time, in fact, I can see new marks and shape changes after each and every wear. It doesn’t matter that these shoes have a feature that makes them special — cool bottoms — they seem to wear and break down like every other shoe. It doesn’t matter that I take extra special care of them, they break down nonetheless. It doesn’t matter that when I bought them, I had a vision for these shoes, special outfits and special occasions where I was sure they would join me, they still breakdown, on their own timing and not on mine.
2) Is a pair of shoes that is impermanent, that you so hoped would last and didn’t, something easeful or stressful? Lord, it is so stressful to watch something I care about, I enjoy, I worked hard to buy, and hard to preserve, just breakdown and change. It is disappointing when my fantasies about where I will wear them to, and how I will look in them, are dashed.
3) So is it at all sensible to say that a pair of shoes you don’t control, that change and that cause you stress yours? Can you count on those sweet-bottomed shoes to actually represent you?
Getting to ‘no’ is a work in progress Lord, but here are my observations about those shoes: The nature of all objects is to break down and decay — when their elements have met the causes of their disaggregation or consumption, they will disaggregate or be consumed (or some combination of both). The function of shoes is that they are worn on my foot, out in the world, that they are eroded by, and changed by, both foot and world is a product of their function. When I bought those shoes, I knew all of this already.
But when I saw those sweet shoes, with their o-so-special red bottom, I was wooed. My mind got to fantasizing our future together –at least a dozen wears — and when a little corner of my brain reminded me, ” Alana, just remember those shoes, red-bottomed or not, are going to go the way of all shoes, they will erode and decay as part of their ‘daily life.’ Buy them if you want to buy them, use them if you want to use them, but don’t count on them to be there for you just because you want them, even if you have built your whole outfit on the basis of those shoes, even if you RSVed to an event thinking both you and the shoes will make it, even if you take super good care of them, know those shoes will break down and get busted”.  And then I said to that little corner of my brain, “yah, yah, yah” and pulled out my credit card to buy them anyway.
When I pulled out my credit card, I was fixating on the the newness and shininess and red-bottomedness of those shoes. I wasn’t thinking about their future-worn-out-selves.  When I pulled out the credit card I knew damn well any shoes ( better yet ones that I perceived of as valuable precisely because the area that touches the street most was painted red) would get ‘sick’, but I figured that was a tomorrow problem, I was focused only on enjoying the shoes today.
When I thought about how those red bottomed shoes would represent me, prove my stylishness, I was thinking about the shoes only in their newness and shininess and red-bottomedness state. Never in their worn out and scuffed and smelly state. But both states are native to the shoe. The broken state was already inevitable in the arrangement of the shoe.
When I bought those shoes, I had in mind a certain number of wears, a minimum number of events, and I determined their ‘worth-it-ness’ accordingly. But their final wear came long before my mind’s minimum and I suffered disappointment accordingly.
A part of me now wonders if I would have actually been satisfied if those shoes made it their dozen wears, or if I always want more? Either way,  I know that I made my own, allowed to represent me, something that in the end proved totally dissatisfying. So maybe a different framing of this question is: If I only claim things as mine that I hope will give me satisfaction, and it is questionable if any object at all can ultimately give me satisfaction, should I in fact be claiming anything at all as my own?”
Day 7: Part : 2My Body is Like  My Louboutin shoes
My body is not under my control (it is not mine, its fading, decaying, breaking down and eroding are inevitable — a normal part of its use).
If my body were under my control then my lungs would not scar, my skin would not sag, my moles would not change, my joints would not erode, I would never get sweaty or stinky or feverish.
If my body were under my control the face and the figure — the features I think make me so special and unique — would never fade or fatten or wrinkle or stretch. At the very least, this body would carry me through all the workouts and events and travel and gatherings – the sheer number of years — I imagine it will.
If my body were under my control I could say, ” sweet body, stay sexy and sleek and not smelly. Please, at the very least stay strong and healthy and pain-free” and my body of today would oblige, forever.
But the reality is, this body is not under my control. Although I wash it, work it out, feed it, medicine it and take generally good care, in just 40 years it has scars and torn joints and sagging skin and dark marks and diseases and regular hip pain.  This is because this body travels though the world — encountering other objects and environmental features that heat it and cool it, abrade it and saturate it, push and pull and stop it in this way and that, consume it and alter its balance of elements.
This is all normal. When the causes for scars and torn joints and sagging skin and dark marks and diseases and regular hip pain have been met,  scars and torn joints and sagging skin and dark marks and diseases and regular hip pain will ensue. My desire for a body that is different –unchanging and unimpacted, my expectation that it will last a certain amount of time, my imagination of its presence at future events, is all irrelevant.
“Alright then Alana, here we go with the questions” “Ask and I will do my best to answer Great Lord”
1) Is that body of yours permanent or impermanent? Oh so clearly Lord it is impermanent. The way it looks, feels, smells, sounds, and behaves is totally different now than it was when I was a kid. In fact I can see new marks, feel new sensations, watch how it moves differently each and every day. It doesn’t matter that this body has a face, a shape, that make it different from other bodies, that make it seem special and unique, it seems to wear down and break like every other body.
It doesn’t matter that I have a vision for this body — how it will look, how it will feel, how fit it is, how smooth the skin, how easily it breaths, how healthy it is — it still goes right on breaking down, according to its timing and not my own. I may have imagined a clear faced body at the last gala, but zits still popped up. I might have imagined a perfectly back bending spine, but I never was able to fall into a backbend from standing even after years of doing yoga hours a day, I may have envisioned getting through this pandemic without a hospital visit, but a rabies shot seeking Alana had to go to the ER a few weeks back.
2) Is a body that is so important to you, that you hoped would last but is already wearing, that shows signs of further aging and decaying with each day, something that is easeful or stressful? Nothing causes me greater stress than this body Great Lord. It is utterly depressing, soul crushing, to watch something I care about so much, something I love and depend on, something I work so hard to preserve just break down and change.
I feel disappointed when my fantasies about what this body will do and how it will look and feel are dashed. I feel extreme fear every time there are signs this body is decaying further, sickening and eroding, I live in anxiety of its illness, pain and death.
3) So is it at all sensible to say that a body that you don’t control, that changes and causes you stress is yours? Can you really count on it to represent you?
Getting to ‘no’ is a work in progress Lord, but here are my observations about this body: The nature of bodies is to break down and decay, when the causes for breaking down and decaying (shifting of elements) have been met. The function of a body is to carry me through this world, that it changes and erodes in relation to objects/environments in this world is natural, expected, it is a product of its function. The world makes no secrets about these facts, it is clear and plain to see.
At some point, I must have surveyed these facts and said, ‘yah, yah, yah, to the part of my brain that so obviously observed the ‘full package’ I was signing-up for when I entered a physical form a form that, through its very function, is exposed to the causes that result in its decay.
When I claimed this body, started calling it my own, I must have thought I could count on it, at least for some minimum amount of time, that whatever percentage of the time it satisfied me would be enduring, that it would make the whole body trip worthwhile.
When I am enamored with this body, fantasizing ways I will use it to build a life, feed an Alana identity, move through and enjoy this world, and represent me, I think only about a ‘snapshot Alana’.  A snapshot that is healthy and beautiful and pain free; I don’t think of the ageing, sickening, dying body that inevitably comes about, lying in the frames before and after that snapshot state.
Last night, when a headache and some sniffles had me worried illness might be on the way, I said to myself, “despite your yah, yah, yahing, you must have known this body came with illness, that that was contract you signed. Now when there is illness, how can you be surprised? Why do you feel afraid, disappointed, by something that you knew was coming all along? If this body decays against your wishes and your imagination, in its own time and according to its causes, why would you count on it to represent you? If this body’s sickness and cessation, is not satisfying to can you really claim it as your own? Do you ever really claim things you know won’t be to your liking?
2020 Retreat Part 6 — A Freezer/Lungs That Shift According to Their Elements Instead of My Wishes Can’t be Mine

2020 Retreat Part 6 — A Freezer/Lungs That Shift According to Their Elements Instead of My Wishes Can’t be Mine

Day 6: Part 1 My Freezer

My freezer is not under my control (its elemental composition shifts in accord with its nature, and not necessarily in accord with my actions nor my desires).
If my freezer were under my control food particles would not clog the drain line, water would not pool and harden at the bottom, gashes and marks would not be left by accumulated ice, and the door would always be easy to pull open.
If my freezer were under my control, it wouldn’t shut off just because the power went out in the house or the landlord unplugged it. It would be something I could always rely on, mine to use whenever I needed it.
At the very least, if my freezer were under my control, it would wait for a convenient time to clog, or be unopenable, or power off — a time when no pandemics or hurricanes threatened my food supply.
If my freezer were really under my control, my panicked cries of, “please don’t clog, please please open, whatever you do don’t go out,’ would have moved my freezer to leap into action, and its thermostat to stay at a safe zero degrees, if not forever, than at least in the times I felt like I needed it the most.
But the reality is, my freezer is not under my control. Multiple times in the last few months, my freezer has broken or shut off, independent of my action, independent of my ‘need’ for it to work.
The state of the freezer changes in accord with its elements, and in the process of interacting with elements in its environment. A crumb of food (4 e) can move into the drain line and, at a certain temperature, cause the water that flows through the line to freeze/harden and block further movement though the pipe. Water can  move onto the freezer floor, solidifying at a certain temperature and blocking the door from moving/opening.
A storm, or an individual, can remove the freezers’ requisite — electricity — and it will cease to function all together.
“So Alana, is that freezer of your constant or inconstant?” “Oh great Dharma Lord, I have a trash bag full of melted food that proves it is inconstant — temperature changes, tubes clog, door opens only sometime and when the conditions for complete shut-off are met, it shuts off entirely.”
“And is a freezer that is inconstant the cause of suffering or ease?” “Lord, it causes stress and suffering by the boatload as I worry about the food inside, and how I will get it fixed and if it is even fixable at all.”
“Alana, if you don’t control the freezer, it is inconstant and it causes you suffering, does it make a ton of sense to call the thing ‘yours’?”
“This contemplation is a work in progress Great Lord, but I can say this: my freezer has proven to me that it acts in accordance with its nature — when elements in the environment, like food particles in drain lines, cause it to shift, its composition shifts and, in the case of my freezer it shifted enough  that its function was altered.” When the freezer was deprived of its requisite — power (heat) — it ceased functioning all together. Though I want to rely on this freezer, it is unreliable. Do I really want to call something I can not rely on my own?”
Day 6: Part 2: My Lungs are Like My Freezer

My lungs are not under my control (their elemental composition shifts in accord with their nature, and not necessarily in accord with my actions nor my desires).
If my lungs were under my control particles of pollen or dust would not cause my airways to begin to close, mucous would not pool and harden in them, scars would not be left by the process, and the lungs would always be able to inhale and exhale smoothly.
If my lungs were under my control, they wouldn’t just stop oxygenating my body because they weren’t getting sufficient air. Obviously, if my lungs were under my control, I could always rely on them, they would be mine to use anytime I needed them.
If my lungs were really under my control, the sound of gasping, the feeling of panic and weakness and lightheadedness, would act as their command — I wouldn’t even need to say, “breath damn it, breath”, before air was smoothly flowing again.
But the reality is, my lungs are not under my control, during countless asthma attacks my lungs have broken or shut off, independent of my action and independent of my desperate ‘need’ for them to work.
The state of my lungs change in accord with their elements, and in the process of interacting with other elements in their environment. A bit of dust or mold or pollen (a 4 e object) can move into my airways and, even at normal body temperature, cause mucus to flow and harden/thicken to block further movement of air to my lungs. In the absence of my lungs’ requisite –air– they can cease to function all together and are unable to oxygenate my body.
“So Alana, are those lungs of your constant or inconstant?” “Great Lord, every single asthma attack proves they are inconstant — I can be rolling along, minding my business, lungs breathing perfectly well and then suddenly they are struggling to function.”
“And is a set of lungs that is inconstant the cause of suffering or ease?” “Great Lord, the throws of an asthma attack are extraordinarily stressful, panic sets in at being unable to breath. Even when I am not suffering the stress of an actual attack, I have to worry about attacks, worry about carrying medicine, worry about going to the doctor and making sure I am prepared for any attack that may occur.”
So Alana, if you don’t control your lungs — an organ lodged at the center of our body, and organ utterly essential to your body’s continued function, those lungs are inconstant and cause you stress, does it make sense to call the things ‘yours’?
“I can’t say with certainty they are mine, unfortunately I still can’t pinky promise, with absolute certainty, they aren’t mine either, my mind requires more convincing. What I can say though is that these lungs, over and over, have proven they act in accordance with their nature — dust, pollen, mold, or smoke have all caused the composition of my lungs to shift and their functioning was altered. When the lungs are deprived of their requisite –air (as well as food and water and correct temperature) — they can cease functioning all together. No matter how much I want to rely on these lungs, no matter how much that I value and hold dear (my very life) rides on them, I know that I  can not count on them to be reliable. So the real question is whether something that I can only use some of the time, when it’s own nature and conditions permit it, is something I can rightfully claim belongs to me? Perhaps it makes more sense to say I can use it for a little while…
2020 Retreat Part 5 — A Peace Lily/Body That Are Reliant on Their Requisites Can’t be Mine

2020 Retreat Part 5 — A Peace Lily/Body That Are Reliant on Their Requisites Can’t be Mine

Day 5: Part 1: My Peace Lily (Plant)

My peace lily is not under my control (it is not mine, it is reliant upon its requisites).
If my peace lily were under my control its leaves would never yellow and get brown spots, its stems would never become flaccid and sag. If my lily were under my control it would always be perky and erect and bright green and smooth, the way it looks when it is well watered and getting a good amount of sun, when the soil is packed with nutrients and at the right level in the pot.
If my plant were under my control, I wouldn’t need to find it a plant-sitter when I travel, it would just patiently wait for me to return, still healthy and perky and bright. And at the least, if my plant does need a plant sitter, it wouldn’t look even better, with new buds and new leaves, after leaving it in someone else’s care than it looks when it is in my own care.
If my lily were under my control when I talk to it (and yes, I do talk to it) and gently say,”Hey there little peace lily, you are looking sad and saggy and brown today, how about you perk up for me and look all green and fresh blooming today?” And, silently (because duh, plants can’t talk back) my little lily would go full, thick, foliaged bloom.
But the reality is that my little lily is not under my control. The lily is dependent on its requisites — water and sunlight and soil nutrients — in correct proportions to live and thrive and grow. Any imbalance of these has an effect, sagging stems and un-greening leaves and thinning foliage, too much imbalance and the plant will die.
The lily is affected by other 4e objects in its environment, bugs can attack it and consume the leaves, fungus can attack it and consume the stems. A plant-sitter can change its environment or proportion of requisites and it can bloom and grow in response, even if I think, “its not fair my plant thrives so fully when someone else cares for it.”
The lily’s own, internal composition of 4es — its nature — drive it to form flowers at a certain stage of its life, to bloom, to wither and eventually to die, independent of how much I (or my so slightly-too-skilled plant sitter) provide it with its necessary requisites.
“OK Alana — lets do the questions then”. “I’m ready to go Great Lord”
1) Is your little lily changeable or unchanging? “Lord, the way may little lily changes –not just every day, but even over the course of a day — are plain for anyone to see. I can watch it droop when it needs water and perk up again within a few hours after receiving it. I see leaves grow through phases of green and yellow and even brown, I see soil levels decrease and the plant grow taller and wider. I see new leaves form and fall off, new bugs grow and wither.
2) Is a plant that changes stressful or easeful? ” Here is the thing Lord, I love that little plant, it makes me so happy when it looks full and fresh and healthy. When it begins to sag though, as it changes, it makes me depressed to see a limp brown thing sitting on the corner of my desk. But, as it freshens and perks again, I am happy (though a little less happy if it perks under my plant sitter’s care instead of my own) — my emotions are dragged around, pulled-up and down, by this little plant, that is the most stressful part of all.
3) Is a plant that is not under your control, that is changeable and causes stress something you ought to, something that you logically are able to, call your own?
“I hear you Lord, it’s a great qq that I still can’t give a flat-no to yet, but I can say this much:  That lily ticks along, growing, blooming, sagging, perking, yellowing, greening all according to its nature rather than my wishes. It is dependent not on me, but on its requisites. It lives and thrives dependent on these requisites and it ultimately dies independent of  how perfectly or thoroughly it has acquired them.

 Day 5: Part 2: My Body is Like My Peace Lily (Plant)

My body is not under my control it is not mine, it is reliant upon its requisites.
If my body were under my control my hair would never gray, my skin would never get red and brown spots, my muscles wouldn’t go flaccid and my skin wouldn’t sag. If my body were under my control it would be perky, bright and smooth, the way it looked back when I was fit and firm and radiant at 25.
If my body were under my control, I wouldn’t need doctors to prescribe meds, stylists to cut my hair, facialists to clear my acne, parents to care for me when I am young, or Eric to care for me when I am sick. This body would not rely on no one but myself.
If my body were under my control, my will would be its command. The word — the mere thought — to be perky, bright, fit, healthy, alert, strong, raring to go, would result in perkiness, brightness, fitness, health, alertness, strength and ability to go go go till the cows came home.
But the reality, that I so hate to face, is that my body is not under my control. My body is dependent on consuming requisites — food, water — in correct proportions to live, thrive and grow.
My body is affected by other 4e objects in the environment, bugs can attack it and consume its blood, fungus can can attack it and consume its skin. Animals can eat it, cars can crush it,  bacteria and viruses can enter it and shift its state and composition creating illness.  Excess cold can freeze tissue causing frostbite and excess heat can raise body temperature causing brain damage.
The body’s own, internal composition of 4es — its nature — drive it to grow, to go through puberty and menopause, to deplete collagen and sag, to age and wither and eventually die, independent of how much I offer it requisites or protect it from other 4e objects in the environment. When the conditions for gray hairs, skin spots, flaccid muscles, fractured bones, brittle nails, wounds, reflux, worn joints, thickened arteries and altered hormones have been met, gray hairs, skin spots, flaccid muscles, fractured bones, brittle nails, wounds, reflux, worn joints, thickened arteries and altered hormones will ensue no matter how much I don’t want them to.
Are there things I can do to alter the arrangement of 4es in my body? Sure, I can pluck gray hairs, bleach skin spots and moisturize dry skin. But these alterations do not prove my control — if I were in control my hair would not gray, my skin would not spot or dry in the first place. And at least, if it did, my fixes would be permanent, not temporary, and I could ultimately decide and dictate the fate of this body.
“OK Alana — lets do the questions then”. “Copy that Great Lord”
1) Is your body changeable or unchanging? Clearly this body changes Lord. Not just every day, but even over the course of the day, I can watch skin get dry and flaky and then plump and moisturize after I apply cream. I can feel alert in the morning and unable to fight sleep that same night. I have watched it change from child to teen to twenties, 30s, and now 40s: weight has changed, body shape has changed, face sagged, joints have stiffened, sun spots have darkened and esophagus has eroded. Change has been unceasing.
2) Is a body that changes stressful or easeful? My body is my number one cause of stress My Lord. I love it so much, I depend on it, it brings me such joy when it is pretty and fit and healthy — when the skin is spotless and the hair all brown, when the muscles are taunt and the fat at a minimum, when the joints don’t catch and the brain feels alert and awake. When it sags and fatigue and grows blotchy or feverish though it makes me so depressed and afraid. I feel loss. I feel anxiety about future loss. But after I lose weight from a diet, after my rosacea meds heal skin spots, after biopsies return normal, my sense of elation and ease soar. I live  a painful  emotional rollercoaster because of how I react to this body.
3) Is a body that you clearly don’t control, that changes and stresses you the hell out something that you  ought to, something that you logically are able to, call you or your own or representative of you?
I desperately wish I could just say no and be done already, but I know I can’t deceive either you Great Lord nor to myself. Here however is what I can say:
This body ticks along, growing, blooming, sagging, perking, coloring, thickening, thinning, fatiguing, waking, pained and sickening and healing all according to its nature rather than my wishes. It lives and thrives dependent on requisites, its form depends on elements. Nothing about this body exists ‘outside the system of the world’, there is no way to exempt it from being impacted by the process of shifting and changing configurations. Even if I could guarantee optimal nutrients and environment for this body it will die. Its journey ends in the same exact termination point as plants and cars and clothes and homes and every other body.
2020 Retreat Part 4 — A Cabin/Body That Doesn’t Keep Me Safe Can’t be Mine

2020 Retreat Part 4 — A Cabin/Body That Doesn’t Keep Me Safe Can’t be Mine

Day 4 Part 1: My Vacation Cabin is Not Mine 

My Vacation Cabin is not under my control (it is not mine, it cannot guarantee safety or protection).
If the cabin were under my control, I would feel comfortable there all the time — there wouldn’t be dust everywhere, the hot water wouldn’t take forever to heat, the pipes wouldn’t creak and there wouldn’t be mold that aggravated my asthma.
If my cabin were under my control the power wouldn’t just spontaneously go out, especially not when I am busy and need it to work and get stuff done.
Most importantly, if the cabin were under my control it would do the ‘job I hired it for’ and keep me safe, away from people, socially distanced and guaranteed covid free.   There would be no incidents or accidents — like rabies exposure from bats in my bedroom one night — that forced me out into the scariest of places in a scary covid world: The ER for rabies shots.
If that cabin were under my control I would be able to say: “Damn it cabin, be the cabin I thought you were from the listing photos — all clean and modern and convenient. Have easy hot water and no dust and shouldn’t there at least be power? Cabin, oh cabin, even if you can’t keep me comfortable do your most critical job and keep me safe!” And of course, if the cabin were mine it would brightly, cleanly, comfortable and safely reply, “Your wish is my command.”
The fact that the cabin is not mine to control is plainly evidenced by the dirt and the creaking and the mold induced coughing and, above all else, by the 6 hours I spent in the emergency room last week for rabies shots post bat exposure.
“So Alana, is that cabin of yours constant or changing.” Well clearly it is changing My Lord — the dust seems to get thicker, the power flickers and the bats just  appeared out of no where.”
“And Alana, is something that keeps changing stressful or un-stressful” “Lord, the lights and the dirt and the cabin noises, those are a little bit stressful, they are not the peaceful vacation ‘add-ons’ I would have chosen. But going to the ER during Covid was one of the most stressful experiences of my entire life: I have been so careful, so disciplined about Covid, I hadn’t seen a soul up-close, besides Eric, in months and there I was in an ER where ever patient could have been the vector of the covid infection I had worked so hard, sacrificed so much, just to avoid.”
Before I signed the lease, I looked at the pictures, I visited the cabin, I read reviews online. By all the evidence I could uncover this looked like a comfortable and safe place to ride out a covid summer. After all, I did all my home work, I was prepared, I KNEW exactly what to expect once we arrived. The problem, the root of  my suffering, is in the vast difference between my cabin expectations and my cabin reality.
 “Alright then Alana, do you think it is sane or rational to call a cabin that you don’t control, that is changeable and stressful and precipitated a trip to the ER during a pandemic ‘yours’?
Lord, I do admit that I am still TBD on this question, but ere is what I do know and can say so far:
Rupa is constantly changing. If there had been a bat in the house on the day of my viewing I would have never rented the place. I became attached to the idea of a bat free house, but the situation changed, the arrangement changed and voila, enter bat.
What is more is that over and over I have proven myself to be piss poor at ‘interpreting the rupa’ . I look at an arrangement of rupa and I start reading tea leaves — well decorated means clean and comfortable, remote means safe. But the truth is, time and again my ‘rupa predictions’ fail and I am left with the disappointment, dangers and consequences of living in a rupa world that reflects the nature of rupa itself  (impermanent, stressful, not self) not the meaning I assign it.
I know cabins can be dirty, and not comfortable, and not safe. That is a normal part of the world. But once that cabin became ‘mine’, at least for a little while, I thought it would be a super cabin, special and different and, at least, free from danger. The fact that my cabin is just like every other cabin in its inability to keep me either safe or comfortable does make me question the grounds on which I go about claiming it as mine.
  Day 4 Part 2: My Body is Like My Vacation Cabin.

My Body is not under my control (it is not mine, it cannot guarantee safety or protect me).
If my body were under my control I would feel at ease, pain free and comfortable in it all the time. There wouldn’t be dirt and filth that accumulate on my skin, my  joints would never feel stuck and would always feel ready to move, my body wouldn’t make annoying sounds like farting and burping and I wouldn’t have microscopic bugs that live in my skin and cause rosacea.
If my body were under my control, it wouldn’t just stop from exhaustion, it wouldn’t need rests and sleep and breaks, especially not when I am busy and need it to get stuff done.
Above all, if this body were under my control it would keep me safe, it would shield me from stabs or gun shots or car accidents or falls, bacteria and viruses and parasites and animals that seek to consume me,  and it would absolutely not begin attacking itself with cancer cells and autoimmune diseases and allergies.
If this body were under my control I would simply be able to say, body, body, please don’t get hurt, please don’t get sick, be comfortable and clean, be quiet and stop embarrassing me with your sounds or worrying me with your growing moles or forcing me to sleep when I feel so desperately that I need to stay awake.  And my body, clean and firm, silent and alert, pain and disease free would say, ” Your wish is my command!”
But I know for a fact my body is not  under my control because it couldn’t repel bats in my sleep. I needed emergency care and shots because the body’s elements on their own are unable to repel rabies, they require the consumption of a 4e rabies vaccine in order to shift into a form that will prevent the rabies virus from consuming me. A body I control would be absolutely self protecting, always able and prepared to fight off disease.
I know this body is not mine to control because sounds and scents and stiffness and pain that I do not want plague me constantly. I know this body isn’t under my control because I can’t count on it to protect me and to keep me safe, not just from outside forces, but even from itself — I know my own skin cells may have turned cancerous and be trying to consume me. I know my body is not under my control because it follows its nature, shifting and decaying, dirtying, expelling waste and getting sick instead of following my rules and desires about what my body should be.
“So Alana, is that body of yours changing or unchanging?” “Clearly Lord it is changing all the time. It goes through cycles of dirty and clean, of pain and no pain, of sleep and waking.” With age my joints have stiffened and my movement restricted in ways unimaginable in my youth and with passing years new illnesses arise, or threaten to arise, that reduce my sleep even further.”
“Alana, would you say a body that keeps changing is stressful or un-stresful?” ” Great Lord, this shifting, changing, body is a world of stress. There are small annoyances like increased flatulence and filth and there are panic-attack or pain inducing changes like asthma attacks and mole growth. I have spent my life working so hard to take care of my body, to keep it healthy and safe from harm, but for all of that effort, decay and disease keep stepping in, trumping all my will and intention and sovereignty over this body. It makes me so sad and scared. I feel helpless.”
‘Alrighty then Alana, do you really think it is sane or logical to say that a body you don’t control, that is stressful and changeable, that gets dirty and tired and worst of all sick, is something that belongs to you?
Well Great Lord, I still can’t issue that super solid no that the text books tell me is correct. But this much I can say –On some level I realize that I must just expect that if my body was healthy yesterday, it will be healthy today and tomorrow, because each new illness or new pain is a shock and surprise. I think, no not me, it simply couldn’t be… But the truth is that  rupa is constantly changing. Skin that was healthy before can become irritated or cancerous when the conditions for irritation or cancer have arisen in its arrangement of the 4es. This is normal.
What is more is that over and over I have proven myself to be terrible at  ‘interpreting the rupa’ . A lifetime of hypochondria tells me that just because I think new lumps mean cancer and chest pain means heart attack these things can be, and have been in the past, fungus and acid reflux. Just because I thought the new spot on my foot was a wart it doesn’t mean it is not skin cancer.  Knowing I am so terrible at ‘reading the rupa’, makes me suspicious that my reading of the rupa of this body as ‘me’ or ‘mine’ may in fact be incorrect.
I know other human bodies get dirty, flatulent, tired, pained and diseased. I read the news, I see the lives of folks around me, this is normal, common, everyday  stuff.  But  when it comes to my body, I seriously think things will be different, it will stay young, it will stay fresh and it will stay healthy. My body, at least in my mind, is special and different, it is safe and comfortable. The problem is that all the evidence in my real life refutes this idea of specialness that exists in my mind — my body acts like every body, aging, changing, causing stress and pain. If my body is exactly the same – in substance and behavior — of absolutely every body, then what is the logic, or the use, of claiming this particular one as mine?
2020 Retreat Part 3 — That Pair of Jeans/Face That Change in Accord with Their Nature, and Can’t Be Stopped From Disaggregating, Can’t Be Mine

2020 Retreat Part 3 — That Pair of Jeans/Face That Change in Accord with Their Nature, and Can’t Be Stopped From Disaggregating, Can’t Be Mine

This contemplation is part of a series of exercises, derived from the Anatta-Lakkhana Sutra, that I did during my 2020 personal retreat. For more details please see the blog  titled Introduction to Contemplations From 2020 Personal Retreat.


Day 3: Part 1: My Jeans 
My jeans are not under my control (they are not mine, they change in accordance with their nature and not my rules, no alteration I make to them will  avoid their final state of disaggregation).
If my jeans were under my control they would never get thinning spots or areas that become piled and bumpy. If my jeans were under my control they would stay that same smooth, tough, easy to care for fabric that they were when they were new.
If my jeans were under my control they wouldn’t have started sagging, stretching and loosening, especially not when when I use them according to their purpose, without being particularly rough or abusive to them.
At the very least, if my jeans were under my control they would accept the repair patches I apply without complaint. They would stay repaired, at least a little while, before starting to abrade and errode again, or tear in some new spot.
If my jeans were under my control, I could curse them, or coax them, or implore them or berate them, some word or action of mine would convince them to stop wearing and tearing. And, if they insisted on wearing and tearing, at least honoring my repairs and giving me a little while before I needed to worry about patching again.
But the reality is that my jeans are not under my control. The texture and shape change because the nature of the fabric makes them susceptible to texture and shape changes. Dirt and particles and surfaces in the environment or my body that come in contact with my jeans can shift the composition (the balance of 4es) of the jeans — they can become abraided, piled or stretched. Spills, or wash water, or detergent that come in contact with the jeans can also change their texture making them feel stiffened and thickened rather than the smooth they were when I bought them. Heat from my body or the dryer or the air can weaken the fabric of these jeans (again, shifting the balance of the 4es of the threads) making them even more susceptible to texture change or stretching/saging.  This is normal.
Now, to be clear, I can definitely apply a patch to these eroding jeans.  I have done it before, used my 4e hands to apply a 4e patch, altering the 4e balance of the  jeans (by adding new 4e material) and achieving a repair. But soon after, my patch began to fray and peel up, so I know the repair is temporary.
So long as it is within the nature of the object to be repaired, it can be repaired. But because the nature of these jeans is ultimately to disaggregate, no effort on my part will ever, ever ever ever ever, ever prevent their ultimate demise because that demise is in their nature. So much for control Alana!
When the causes and conditions for this abrading/sagging/stretching/ stiffening/ patching/ patch peeling have been met,  the jeans will shift and change no matter what my preferences, no matter how embarrassed I may be that my butt is hanging out..
“OK Alana, are your jeans constant or inconstant?” “Lord, they are clearly inconstant, they have a totally different fit/look/feel now then they did when I got them.”
“Alana, is something that is inconstant, as you described, satisfying or dissatisfying?” “Lord, I gotta go with dissatisfying on this one. I really would like for my jeans to stay in the like new state — that was the state I bought because that was the state I believed would be satisfying. To have it change like it has, is super disappointing, it makes me feel a little angry, a little bait-and-switched, I am not at all satisfied.”
“So Alana, if you don’t control your jeans, you can alter them temporarily but sure as heck can’t alter their march toward their final destination of demise, they are inconstant and unsatisfying, does it make logical sense to call these jeans ‘yours’? Are these jeans who you are? Are these jeans something you can count on to represent you? I mean really Alana, does your butt hanging out really represent you?”
“OK Lord, I swear I am working on getting to firm no. In the meantime, I will say this: These jeans are just a collection of elements, they aggregate into the shape of jeans, they change and shift their arrangement in accordance with their nature and then they ultimately shift into the state of jean demise. I can use these jeans for some period of time, I can alter them within the limits of their nature, but I have no hope at all of forcing them to alter beyond the bounds of their nature. I have no hope of keeping them. I will admit, to call something I can’t hold on to, I can’t control and I can’t ultimately rely on ‘mine’ is growing a bit challenging.
Day 3: Part 2: My Jeans are Like My Facial Skin
My facial skin is not under my control (it is not mine, it does not represent me, it changes in accordance with its nature and not my rules, no alteration I make to it will avoid its final state of disaggregation).
If my face skin were under my control I would not have rosacea. My skin wouldn’t get thin and crepey in some areas and thick and bumpy in others. It wouldn’t turn red or itch or burn. My skin would be smooth and pretty and perfect like it was when I was younger.
If my face skin were under my control, it wouldn’t sag or wrinkle, it wouldn’t stretch or loosen, especially not when I am diligent about facial exercises and sunscreen and moisturizer and facials.
At the very least, if my skin were under my control, my ‘fixes’ would actually ‘fix’ not temporarily patch, or do nothing visible, or make things worse. One botox shot would last forever, that pricey new moisturizer would have gotten rid of that under eye bag that is driving me nuts, and that first med my doc prescribed for rosacea wouldn’t have made the peeling and burning worse.
But, alas alack, I cannot prevent my skin from assuming arrangements I despise, and I cannot ultimately keep those arrangements, and far worse, at bay. At best, maybe, sometimes, possibly (with the risk of making stuff worse),  I can temporarily alter the state of my skin — within the bounds of its nature — to sometimes/temporarily achieve a look/feel that runs closer rather than further from my imagination/desire. To call such temporary-maybe-sometimes-better-sometimes-worse alterations ‘control’ would idiotic: At the end of the day, no matter my will, my action, my speach or my desire, my facial skin’s elements will shift and adjust in accord with it’s nature and not according to my rules.
Therefore, it is totally normal when my rosacea flares up and my skin looks like a bumpy beat and burns. Afterall, microscopic insects that live on my skin (4e objects) can absolutely consume my skin and alter its balance of elements such that the resulting state is dry, burning, bumpy and red. Gravity and sun and the natural tendencies of aging and shifting in my own body can cause and contribute to my skin shifting shape and becoming saggy and laggy and droopy.
When the causes and conditions for this burning/red/bumpy/thinning/sagging/stretching/wrinkling/peeling and at last, total decay or consumption have been met, Alana can bet her booty (that is hanging out of her patch peeling jeans) that burning/red/bumpy/thinning/sagging/stretching/wrinkling/peeling and at last, total decay or consumption will ensue.
“OK Lady, lets do the questions then”. “You betcha Great Dharma Lord”
1) Is your face skin constant or inconstant? Oh its so obviously inconstant. I had the best skin as a kid, even a teen, no acne, smooth and pretty. Trouble didn’t start till 20, when the acne began, and then the rosacase, and then the eczema, and then the aging. And even each of these things are sometimes a little better and sometimes a little worse. My skin reflects its changing and changeable nature.
2) And is changing and inconstant skin satisfying or unsatisfying?  I am so so so so deeply dissatisfied with my skin. I loved it when I was younger, but each change — in the direction I consider ‘wrong’ is a deep disappointment. It is an embarrassment. I look in the mirror and I cry sometimes at the loss of youth, at the unwillingness of my skin to cooperate. I itch at it and I ice it in the hope to reduce the pain.
Any, momentary satisfaction I had in it when I was younger is now long gone. Any satisfaction I feel when something ‘works’, the rosacea calms or the lotions and potions smooth, is just the grounds for future dissatisfaction when the skin again shifts out of an arrangement I prefer. More sorrow, more drama, more disappointment when what worked for 1 moment fails to work for 2.
3) If you don’t control your skin, it is inconstant and totally unsatisfying, can you really say that it is ‘you’ or ‘yours’ or ‘represents you’? This is a work in progress My Lord, but here is where I am at:
My Jeans, my skin, and every object in this world is just a bundle of elements marching through shifting states of rupa. Rupa objects interact with each other, with the environment, they can shift course (though never go back), but the final destination is always the same, disaggregation or consumed (or some combination of the two).  When the arrangement of skin necessary to manifest rosacea arises, rosacea will arise. I (my nama) can scheme a plan to call the doc, get a script, and my hands can apply the meds (another 4e object). In this regard I can be a cause for a change in my skin, but I can not guarantee a result.
I have used rosacea drugs that didn’t visibly do crap . I have used rosacea drugs that helped and I have used rosacea drugs that made my skin worse. Because any cause I put in place does not ensure the result I want, I am not in control.
The problem is, when I sometimes get a result that is more, rather than less, in line with my imagination/desires, I convince myself I am lord and master of my skin. It is those moment, when the med actually works (at least temporarily) and my skin looks clear and smooth, that I preen in front of the bathroom mirror thinking that there is me, it is mine, it represents me, its current state is in line (ore or less, with one eye closed if I squint kinda hard since 41 is clearly not 21) with who I think I am (ohh the me I wanna be). Unfortunately, it is also those moments that feed both the delusion and the hope and set me up for a world of hurt later on.
Later on will come. A few days after I achieved ‘clear skin’ from my latest meds, I was greeted in the morning mirror with a big new bump. Suddenly my skin wasn’t me, it didn’t represent me, it was aberration — an alteration away from what my mind, in just a few days’ time, had convinced me was normal. But the real normal is 4e skin shifting according to its nature, changing form when stimulus for change has been reached.  Sometimes that is bumpy form. Sometimes it is smooth form. Always its end form is disintegration.
So I guess the real questions for me to consider are these: Can I really find anything of substance in a shifting mass of elements that inevitably, ultimately, c
ease that I can call ‘me’? Especially when I actually only want to call certain states along that shifting set of elements me/represent me/mine? At the very least, I should claim the whole thing in all its states.
And if an object, or my skin, or my body, is just a shifting mass of aggregated elements does it really represent anything other than itself — either its momentary trail marker or perhaps its entire march along the entropy parade path?  I know, I know, my mind likes to imagine that I can superimpose myself, my reflection, onto that shifting mass, but  the efforts seem a bit hollow when I can’t, not even temporarily, guarantee it’ll assume or hold that shape I am seeking (out damned spot).  I mean I would never send my crazy, loud mouthed, unpredictable, totally disobedient, employee to represent me at a conference…
As for something being mine, I’ll admit this is the hardest for me to see right now. Afterall, objects have utility, I can in fact sometimes use them…until I can’t. Which brings me to the question of whether or not I can claim an object that, by its very nature, is a ‘loaner’? Each and every item, even my body, has a rental period when it is up, it is up, whether I want it to be or not.
 A part of me just wants to admit that I can call something mine, or I can call it “Bessie the Cow” , but at the end of the day each object and I will part ways, march away from each other on separate courses. Now, or sooner, or later my time with my skin will come up. Now, sooner or later, my time with my body will come up. Despite all I imagine this body to be, despite the future I have fantasized for it, despite how desperately I feel/think I need it, we will part ways.
2020 Retreat Part 2 — A Fish Tank/Body That Doesn’t Conform to My Expectations Can’t Be Mine

2020 Retreat Part 2 — A Fish Tank/Body That Doesn’t Conform to My Expectations Can’t Be Mine

This contemplation is part of a series of exercises, derived from the Anatta-Lakkhana Sutra, that I did during my 2020 personal retreat. For more details please see the blog  titled Introduction to Contemplations From 2020 Personal Retreat.


Day 2: Part 1: My Fish Tank 

My fish tank is not under my control (it is not mine, it does not conform to my view of it, it doesn’t act in accordance with my imagination or fantasies).
If my fish tank were under my control the glass would not be so fragile — it wouldn’t so easily scratch or chip and I wouldn’t have to worry about it shattering.
If my fish tank were under my control then I could just set it up and it would be easy to maintain–  a little cleaning, a little feeding, and it would keep a steady state equilibrium where the PH and the lighting and the plant load and fish load existed in perfect balance.
If my fish tank were under my control one fish would never attack another, the plants would never grow unchecked, and an algae bloom wouldn’t starve the fish and plants of oxygen. At a minimum, that fish tank would accept and appreciate all my ‘fixes’ and ‘maintenance’ without creating further problems in return.
If that fish tank were actually under my control, I could say, ” Oh fish tank, when I bought you I imagined you would be just an easy, pretty thing. Please be the tank of my imagination and stop being so fragile. Stop with the algae blooms that kill the plants and the PH adjustments that harm the shrimp, and the aggressive fighting catfish and please, please, please just stay in a balanced state so that I can sit back, relax and enjoy you.”
Alas, my fish tank was never the fish tank of my imagination. Dozens of scratches and huge chip in the corner prove it was never under my control. Glass by its nature is fragile, easy to scratch or chip or shatter when a solid of sufficient force encounters it.
Keeping my tank maintained and in balance was a fight of epic proportions. When I went too long without changing the water, ammonia levels rose and my test strips condemned me with dire warning akin to:  ‘Red alert you fish murderer.’ When I changed the waster too frequently chlorine levels rose and my test strips condemned me with dire warning akin to:  ‘Red alert you fish murderer’.
Just a slight excess of food, the same amount that had worked fine for weeks, led to decay that led to bacteria that deprived the tank of oxygen that started killing my plants.  When algae became a problem I bought a ‘cleaner catfish’ to eat the algae, only the catfish was super aggressive and started attacking my other fish. When I put rocks in the tank so my other fish could hide from the bully cat fish the rocks changed the tank PH and my test strips condemned me with dire warning akin to:  ‘Red alert you fish murderer.’
I thought that tank would be a fun toy, but in reality tanks are a complex, interdependent system where components continually shift and impact one another. This is natural — four element objects continually shift and change, they interact with each other and the environment precipitating further change. They act in accordance with the rules of rupa, not the fishtank fantasies of Alana.
“So Alana, is your fish tank constant or inconstant?” “Great Lord, that darn tank was constantly inconstant: chemical balances changing, fish dying, shrimp breeding, plants spreading…what worked perfectly to care for it one day lead to massive disaster and die off the next.”
“And Alana, is something that is inconstant stress full or easeful?” “Stressful!  The irony Great Lord, is that I was so sure that my tank was going to ease my stress, that it would be the relaxing ‘moving picture’, that all the tanks in the mall and the fish store looked to be. But those mall/ fish store moments were just that — brief moments — where tanks appeared to be balanced and harmonious. Once I got the tank home the full picture became clear, constant work to upkeep, continual fear that any given shift –totally out of my control– would destroy the thing I loved.
“Alright Alana, here is the biggie question — do you really think it is fitting to be calling something you don’t control, that is inconstant and stressful ‘you’ or ‘your’ or representative of you’?
Well Great Lord, I still can’t give you a firm, exuberant ‘hellz no’, but I will say this…When I desire something, and therefore seek to claim it as ‘mine.’ I am only really seeing one side of it. I want the pretty, flashy, relaxing, fun bits. I either ignore the ugly, stressful, difficult, decaying parts or I ignore the pain and suffering that getting those ‘dark-side’ parts will bring me. But with glass I get breaking. With fish I get death and loss. With a mini ecosystem I get a ton of upkeep and work. If something is ‘mine’ it has to be mine in all its states, not just the ones I want.
Day 2: Part 2: My Fish Tank to My Body

My body is not under my control (it is not mine, it does not conform to my view of it, it doesn’t act in accordance with my imagination or my fantasies)
If my body were under my control it wouldn’t be so fragile — my skin wouldn’t scratch, my joints wouldn’t chip and bones wouldn’t break.
If my body were under my control then I could just do the basic care and feeding, add in a little working out and sleeping, and I would be good to go. This body would just hit a stride of steady state equilibrium — my blood sugar, cholesterol, vitamins and hormones all in perfect balance.
If my body were under my control I would never worry about cancer cells attacking healthy cells, about a mole growing unchecked or that a fungal infection that would kill off my ‘good bacteria.’ At a minimum, my body would let me ‘fix’ it without spiraling into further diseases and decay.
If my body were under my control, I would damn well know it by now because I have spent many nights pleading with it. I say, “body, please just be the thing I imagine you to be, be healthy and dependable, be beautiful and ageless, be mobile and fit and pain free. At least, be a little more like the body I had in my 20s, or I’d even settle for 30s…”But alas, my body doesn’t respond, it is not the body of my imagination.
Instead I live with constant fragility — nails that chip and hair that breaks. Joints that are already wearing down and a fractured toe that will attest to the fact that with sufficient force, a hard jagged pavement can break a bone.
Keeping this body maintained and in balance is literally a struggle for my life. I started taking green coffee supplement to manage my blood sugar but it irritated my bladder, causing incontinence. I started eating meat to manage low blood sugar, but the saturated fats have made my cholesterol too high. I apply sunscreen to protect my skin but as a result my vitamin D levels are too low. I use a steroid inhaler to keep my airways from constricting, but the very same chemical that opens my airways leads to fungal overgrowth in my mouth. I took up running to increase my cardiovascular health, but stripped my hip joint in the process. I await lab results from every check-up with bated breath — always afraid I will find some new, lurking, imbalance that endangers my life.
From my perspective, it feels like my body is constantly faltering and breaking, but in truth its behavior is completely natural, not broken. This body is a complex, interdependent system where components continually shift and impact each other. In this body, the 4 elements are constantly shifting, interacting with each other internally and with other 4 element objects externally: Aggregating, re-aggregating/shifting/changing proportions, disaggregating, consuming and being consumed. This is the cycle of Rupa. No matter how much I fantasize it were otherwise, this is the cycle to which ‘my’ rupa body is enslaved.
“Allrighty Alana, you know the questions by now.” “Yes, Great Dharma Lord, shoot”
1) Is that bod of yours constant or inconstant? — this body is constantly inconstant. Every year, every day, hell every minute is something new. Last year my cholesterol was alright, now it is through the roof. A few months ago my rosacea was fine and then suddenly I had a horrible flare. I go through cycles of hot/cold, hungry/satiated, tired/alert. It changes so frequently, and sometimes so subtly, I can’t keep up, I’m not even fully aware, even if it is something like a growing cancer or blood clot that imperils my very life. Above everything, I wish I could go back to a time when I was healthier and prettier. At least I would feel at ease if I could ‘keep what I have now’, but my body keeps changing.
2) Is something that is inconstant stressful or easeful? I could literally write volumes about my fear, stress, sorrow and loss — just focused on my body — and still it wouldn’t cover the half of it. Right this moment I await results of a skin biopsy, nervous that my long standing ‘spot’ morphed before my eyes, unbeknownst to me creeping from benign to malignant. The thing is, My Lord, in those moments I get a clean bill of health, in those moments I feel fit-as-a-fiddle and oh-so-pretty, I relish in this body: I primp it, preen it, travel in it and peacock around, and all the stress and anxiety of its sick/aging/loss side are nearly forgotten…
3) Drum roll please….Is something that is clearly not in your control, mega inconstant and epicly stressful fitting to be called ‘you’ or ‘yours’ or ‘your representative’? I don’t know Great Lord, it’s my body, it is so so so damn hard to see it as anything but ‘self’ or ‘mine’ or ‘me’. But I will share this…
The other night I was in the shower, looking down at a body that, let’s face it, has seen fitter and perkier days. It made me depressed to think about the loss of that old body and even more depressed to know that this new one –assuming I live long enough– would likely give way to something even more atrophied.  Sure I had a few good years of being at a physical prime, but relative to sub/post prime years how many were truly prime? How did I agree to sign-up for this sometimes-satisfactory-form, but more-time-unsatisfactory-form? And even if I signed-up for a ‘body rental’ for utility sake, why did I grasp at this body, and claim it ,and mine-ify the thing? Why did I get so bound-up, make it the foundation of a ‘fit/hot’  identity that couldn’t possibly last? If I am going to claim this body as mine, I should at least be claiming it in all its shifting, decaying, disaggregating states. If I am healthy Alana I am sick Alana. If I am pretty Alana I am ugly Alana. If I am baby Alana and teenage Alana and 20s, 30s, 40s, 50s, …..Alana, don’t I also have to be corpse Alana? Maggot eaten Alana? totally disaggregated Alana?
2020 Retreat Part 1B — A Body that Disregards my Rules, like My Night Guard and Like My Teeth, Can’t be Mine

2020 Retreat Part 1B — A Body that Disregards my Rules, like My Night Guard and Like My Teeth, Can’t be Mine

 

This contemplation is part of a series of exercises, derived from the Anatta-Lakkhana Sutra, that I did during my 2020 personal retreat. For more details please see the blog, Introduction to Contemplations From 2020 Personal Retreat.


To ‘celebrate ‘ my first day of retreat and to really make sure I had a through grasp on my homework assignment, I decided to do a little bonus work: In addition to comparing my bite guard to my teeth — 1 part of my body — which we saw in the last blog, I decided to also compare my bite guard to my whole body. So below is my HW from Day 1 Part B: My Body is Like My Bite Guard 

My Body is not under my control (it is not mine, it doesn’t act according to my rules and desires).
If my body were mine it would not become filthy and grimy or begin to smell. I wouldn’t need to spend a ton of time showering or brushing my teeth or washing my hair, I would simply always be clean.
If my body were under my control it wouldn’t soften and loose its shape, my skin would be firm, my body would be taunt my muscles wouldn’t atrophy and my boobs wouldn’t sag. Especially not from regular daily life, when I watch my diet and keep active and wear sunscreen.
If my body were under my control, my esophagus wouldn’t erode from reflux, I wouldn’t attract insects and viruses and bacteria that lead to my decay, the cartilage around my joints wouldn’t tear and crack. At the very least, my body would ‘hold-on and hold-out’ as long as I think I need it, so long as I want it, so long as I hope and expect to have it live.
If this body were under my control I could simply say, “body, please stop with the sagging, the smelling, the dirtying, the fattening, the atrophy — you are embarrassing me and taking up so much of my time with care and maintenance.”And upon saying that –upon ordering that– every part would be perfectly perky and clean and the right kinda plump. If this body were mine, it would listen when I implored it, “please, at the very least, live — don’t break, don’t die, don’t leave me high and dry. The least you can do is survive, if not thrive, given all the fitness and feeding and care and medications and vitamins…”
Body however is all, “Honey Badger Don’t Care…”, body makes it abundantly clear it is not under my control. My body requires regular washing because it lives in an environment filled with dust and dirt. My skin and body have begun to sag because the tissues of the body, can shift in composition (they can become more rigid/ softer, they can become more bloated and wet/drier, they can become hot and inflamed/they can cool, they can become more flexible and fluid/ fixed and immobile), change form, in this case becoming less solid and taunt.  This body is subject to being consumed by viruses, insects and bacteria because all four element objects are subject to being consumed. My esophagus can erode and my joints can tear all because the  the force of the liquids in stomach acid, a solids in bone can act on, and break, body parts. This is all totally normal.
“So Alana, is your body there a ‘forever-fixed-steady-state-kinda-thing’ or does it change and dis-aggregate and degrade?” Obviously Great Dharma Lord, it changes and dis-aggregates and degrades, if I just open up a photo album, or my medical chart, it has all the evidence I need.”
“And Alana, is something that changes and dis-aggregates and degrades stressful or easeful?” “So, so, so stressful My Lord. The care and feeding is time consuming and unpleasant. The sagging and the aging and the de-conditioning is an embarrassment. I stand in front of the mirror and lament the loss of my plump skin and thin/fit bod. I work to cover it up with clothes and make-up; I try to regain what I lost with workouts and botox and facials. Whatever small gains I can make give me momentary pleasure– hope– that is dashed when, inevitably my body shifts again. “
“The worst though is the fear, and the pain, and the fear of pain. I live in fear of the day that, just like my night guard, my body will break beyond repair. That a the force of a car bumper will crack open my body as the force of my jaw has the guard. Or that a bullet will pierce my body, as bone already has done to my joint.  I worry that a day may come that the tissues in my body shift into a cancer. Or that the plaques in my arteries block blood from flowing to my heart and cause a heart attack. I worry and worry, all while I hurt from the injuries already there. Hurt from the investigative colonoscopy and the mole biopsy. Fearing more hurt is to come.
 ” OK Alana, the qq I know you have been waiting for, ” If something is so clearly not in your control, if it is a changing, dis-aggregating, degrading, dying thing, if it is the source of your greatest suffering, can you actually regard that thing as ‘you’, or ‘yours’ or representative of you’? Seriously, can you say that body is what you are?”
 I’m sorry Great Lord, I’m still not totally at the ‘no’ yet, but I will say this much…This body doesn’t dirty or sag or break or die when I desire it to. It dirties or sags or breaks or dies when the conditions for dirtying/sagging/breaking/ dying are met. The result is that I suffer the pain of losing something I desire or the pain of getting something I don’t desire. The more I desire the harder I cling. The more I cling the harder I suffer. So perhaps it sin’t super smart to continue to cling so hard to something I clearly cannot keep. And in truth, I am clinging to a four element object, a composite of shifting components that, like all four element things with die and decay and return to the earth. How can I regard something empty of all but elements as me, as who I am, of representative of me, or anything else at all?
2020 Retreat Part 1– A Disobedient Bite Guard/Teeth That Disregards my Rules Can’t be Mine

2020 Retreat Part 1– A Disobedient Bite Guard/Teeth That Disregards my Rules Can’t be Mine

This contemplation is part of a series of exercises, derived from the Anatta-Lakkhana Sutra, that I did during my 2020 personal retreat. For more details please see the prior blog, Introduction to Contemplations From 2020 Personal Retreat.

Day 1: Part 1: My Bite Guard
My bite guard is not under my control (it is not mine, it does not obey me, it doesn’t act according to my rules and desires).
If my bite guard were under my control it wouldn’t get thick with slime, or get plaque stuck in it, or begin to smell. If it were under my control, it would simply stay fresh and clean and I wouldn’t need to slave away, scrubbing at it each day.
If my bite guard were under my control it wouldn’t  have begun to soften and to loose its shape, structure and fit, especially not just from ‘normal and prescribed use.’
If the bit guard were under my control,  it most definitely wouldn’t abrade and crack. At the very least, that bite guard would wait to crack at a convenient time, not during a pandemic when going to the dentist to fix it is so hard and dangerous.
If that thing were under my control, I could just say, ‘listen up bite guard, do my bidding already” and it would stop with the slime and the smell and the loosening, abrading and cracking. It wouldn’t be so darn impervious to my pleading, “just hold together a little longer before you break please please (seriously, pretty please with sugar on top)”.
But the reality is that bite guard isn’t under my control. Every morning I pull it from my mouth and, no matter how deeply I wish it weren’t so, it is stinky and slimy. Because it ‘lives’ in an environment –my mouth — that make it prone to have the bacteria and plaque stick to it.
It is abraded and saggy and it has a crack that continues to grow and  spread because it is a object that, when exposed to a certain combination/amount of heat from my body and saliva from my mouth and rubbing from my teeth and  pressure from my jaw will begin to wear and stretch and crack. Its normal.
When the causes and conditions for this abrading/sagging/cracking have been met, it will degrade no matter how darn inconvenient the timing is for Alana.
“So Alana — is your bite guard permanent or impermanent?” ” Obviously, Great Dharma Lord, the thing is impermanent: I remember when it was clean and shiny and new with absolutely no sign of cracks or abrading. Now, it is clearly decaying and eroding. Frankly I think the thing is about to split in half.”
“And Alana, is something that is impermanent, like you described, stressful or easeful?” “Oh Great Lord, I am hella stressed! I feel like I need this guard to protect my teeth, to prevent them from cracking and eroding. At the same time, I am so afraid to go to the dentist right now and have it replaced — I don’t wanna catch covid. I have taken such good care of it, used it as prescribed, all I want is to be able to depend on it when I need it and here it is breaking when arguably I need it the most (to stay out of the dentist’s –during covid — needing a root canal for cracked teeth).”
“Alrighty then Alana, do you think it is fitting to call something that is out of your control, changeable and stressful ‘who you are’, ‘yours’ or ‘representative of you’? “
“Honestly Great Lord, I ‘know’ the correct answer is supposed to be ‘no’, but the truth is, this is something I struggle with. I suppose though, when I think about it, it is clear that I can’t rely on this bite guard. It is not dependable because it doesn’t subject itself to my rules and my commands. It acts in accordance with its nature (4 elements), shifting in response to its environment and its interaction with other objects  — like my teeth and my saliva and bacteria (other 4 element objects). It does not act in accordance  with my desires or my ‘needs’, not even during a freaking pandemic. So I suppose it is in fact hard to claim this thing as my own.

Day 1: Part 2: My Teeth are Like My Bite Guard

My teeth are seriously not under my control (they are not mine, they do not obey me, they don’t act according to my rules and desires).
If my teeth were under my control they wouldn’t get grimy, they wouldn’t get covered in plaque, they wouldn’t get food in them,  and they wouldn’t smell. If they were under my control I wouldn’t need to brush them and floss them and get special cleanings at the dentist, because they would simply be, and stay, fresh and clean.
If my teeth were under my control they wouldn’t soften from decay, losing enamel and loosening in my mouth. Especially not when I take care of them and use them in a ‘normal’ way to chew on food, not anything crazy like wood or metal.
If my teeth were under my control they wouldn’t be worn down and for sure they wouldn’t be cracking. At the very least, they could wait to crack and break for when I am not on vacation, traveling away from home, or afraid to go to the dentist because of a pandemic.
If my teeth were actually something I could control, they would listen to me when I asked them to stop dirtying and decaying and breaking and hurting. At least, they would take into account all the hard work — brushing and flossing and oil pulling — I do to care for them and return the favor by waiting to break for a time that wasn’t an inconvenience to me. “I mean seriously, come on teeth…”
But the truth is, my teeth quite simply aren’t under my control. My teeth decay and stink because they hang out in an environment — a mouth — where bacteria, that cause odor and decay, fester and grow on anything they can find to consume (like teeth and bite guards).
My teeth are weakened, eroded and cracking because they are an object which, when exposed to the right combination/amount of heat from my body and food/drink, saliva and imbibed liquids, crunching and friction against solid foods and one another, and pressure from my jaw or from food or foreign objects, will begin to wear and crack. It is normal.
When the causes and conditions for decay or cracking or falling out or pain have been met, decay or cracking or falling out or pain ensue. My teeth clearly don’t give a darn that I may be busy, or on vacation, or afraid to go to the dentist.
“So Alana, are those teeth of yours steady-state or are they changeable?” “Obviously Great Dharma Lord, they are changeable — they go through states of dirty and clean. They have had states of being less decayed and more decayed. There was a time when they weren’t worn or cracked at all,  but these days it’s crown city up in my mouth.”
“And Alana, is something that is subject to change, like your teeth, stressful or easeful?” Seriously Great Lord, almost no body part has caused me more stress over the years than my teeth. For decades I was afraid to go to the dentist, so I worried constantly what would happen if a tooth broke and needed care. When my teeth did break, I was in terrible pain, because of the lack of dental care. I have had teeth break at the worst possible times, had to drop everything and rush to the dentist. I literally have nightmares about my teeth falling out. Teeth for me are like the definition of stress.”
“Soooo, do you think it makes a whole lotta sense to call something that you don’t control, that keeps breaking and decaying and that is super stressful ‘who you are’, ‘yours’ or ‘representative of you.'”
“I don’t know Lord… But, I guess, when push comes to shove, it is pretty clear, that for all of my hope and all of my effort, my teeth ultimately do not bow to my bidding. Even though, under the right circumstances, I can cause my teeth to be brushed and fluorided and crowned, I can’t guarantee that I will achieve the results I want for my teeth. Even when sometimes an intervention can help, there are times when that same intervention fails (I have had some crowned teeth get ‘saved’ and others get ‘killed by the crowning process), underscoring the truth — I am no master of my teeth.
My teeth break and erode and decay in accordance with their nature (4 element objects). Any influence I have over them is bound  by their nature, which — like all 4 element objects — is impermanence. To think I can possess/hold onto/keep an impermanent object is pretty  fishy thinking…by that logic, I guess I can say these teeth do not belong to me.
Introduction to Contemplations From 2020 Personal Retreat

Introduction to Contemplations From 2020 Personal Retreat

In August 2020 I decided to do a personal, self-guided, week-long retreat because I was unable to join the Temple’s Zoom retreat several weeks prior. I had learned from a friend about one of the exercises taught at the temple retreat and it deeply resonated with me, I decided to focus my own contemplations for the week on doing a deep-dive into this same exercise.

The exercise was quite simple, a series of questions, framed as a conversation between the Buddha and the practitioner, to guide contemplation on the nature of self in regard to our bodies and our physical belongings. The contemplation begins by taking an object that we own and considering whether or not that object is really under our control. It then imagines the Buddha asking the following questions to which one must formulate a reply:

  1. “Alana, is your ____ (object chosen for contemplation) constant or inconstant?”
  2. “And Alana, is something that is inconstant stress full or easeful?”
  3.  “Is it fitting to regard what is inconstant, stressful, subject to change as: ‘This is mine’. ‘This is my self’. ‘This is what I am’?”

The same considerations and questions are then internalized and applied to one’s body. Rinse and repeat.

I had already been hot and heavy on the topic of the 4 elements, self and self belonging for over a year, so this new ‘take’ on my old contemplations was deeply appealing. But what really moved me about this ‘exercise’ is that comes straight from the Anatta-lakkhana sutra (literally translated the characteristics of not-self sutra): These are teachings straight from the Buddha’s mouth, and damn are they juicy ones!

The Anatta-lakkhana sutra  methodically and brilliantly lays out the evidence for why the 5 aggregates are not ourselves; each of the aggregates are subject to dis-ease, they do not abide by our orders/rules, they continually change, and they cause a shit ton of suffering, so what business do we have regarding these as self? Each aggregate, is subject to the 3 common conditions (suffering, impermanence, no-self), what we regard as ‘self’ (i.e. the 5 aggregates) is not exempt, not different or special.  At least for the OG listeners of this sermon, when they really saw these aggregates –everything in the world — for what it was (suffering, impermanent and not-self) they became disenchanted. “Disenchanted he becomes dispassionate. Through dispassion he is released.”  This sutra is literally a how-to-guide for enlightenment!

The first level of enlightenment deals specifically with correcting our wrong views vis-a-vie rupa, the aggregate of physical form. This is the focus of the exercise,  a deep dive into the nature of rupa/4 elements to understand whether or not objects can really be ours. Can they follow our rules and meet our expectations if they arise and cease based on, and are bound to follow, the rules of rupa (the rules of the world, i.e. the 3 common conditions)? Can things made of elements, that predictably come together and then disintegrate into their elemental parts, be with us forever?  Will they be there when we want/ or need them? If not how do we justify calling these items ours? Doesn’t the indisputable nature of these objects (to change, to not do our bidding) stress us the fuck out? Don’t we feel loss, disappointment, pain, distress and despair on account of the nature of these objects (or rather on account of our desire for them to be other than what they are)? Can we really say that something that causes us suffering and stress is us/ours/represents us? Spoiler alter here: The answer of course is NO, the sutra tells us as much. But the exercise is about more than just saying no, it is about PROVING NO, to ourselves, finding no in our hearts. That was my goal for my retreat, and the next few blogs will share my own efforts at the exercise from the Anatta-lakkhana sutra to get there.

Afterall, when in doubt, the Buddha’s own words are the perfect guide to practice!

 

Video Sent By Mae Neecha Part 8

Video Sent By Mae Neecha Part 8

In July 2020 Mae Neecha sent over a video for me to view to aid my practice and fuel my contemplations. I am going to share the video below as well as  and my reply to Mae Neecha (edited a bit for clarity) and her comments back to me. Though this video came from Mae Neecha, as opposed to Mae Yo, I am going to use the Mae Yo  sequencing and tag in order to enhance searchable and organization of these blog types.


The Video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JnshlMG6eBI

Alana’s Response to Mae Neecha: Unusual beauty: As the video went through the series of beautification practices across the world, it felt like the message was ” look at these freaks, doing these extreme, painful, frightening (using traditional tools, no anesthetic, etc) things to achieve a look that, from a western perspective, isn’t even beautiful at all” when my mind followed that narrative, I came to the conclusion that it is so much pain for nothing, it is crazy.

But then, none of beautification rituals we do here in America, ones I have certainly done, show up in the show. Botox, surgery, fat loss machines and dermarolling. Even less invasive — how about ‘stinging lip glosses that make your lips plumper, diet pills that make you feel like a pixie on crack but make you thin, extreme workouts, starvation diets…These things are so painful, some dangerous, hard, time consuming. But these, familiar Western beauty rituals, to achieve Western beauty standards, these I think are “worth it” somehow. At least these make sense to me, they don’t seem freakish or grotesque like the rituals shown in the video.

But what is the difference really? If those folks filing their teeth or putting rings on their neck are crazy for their beauty enhancements, so am I for my botox and fillers and extreme workouts. It is my delusion, my desire to achieve some ideal, identity, advantage that I think a particular look will provide for which I so freely suffer. The kicker of course, which the video makes clear is the ideal –like beauty standards across cultures — is constructed anyway. Not absolute. And certainly not enduring because time will undo any efforts anyway.

Sometimes it’s longer duration, but sometimes it is sudden or unexpected duration…all it took was a lockdown order and now my botox has worn off; wrinkles I never thought I would need to contend with, never thought I would need to face, are appearing on my forehead. Why can’t I put down this obsession with beauty? What is the benefit I think is so great that I am willing to keep enduring my own beauty rituals for? Enduring when their effect is only temporary anyway.

The other night a scene from a show I was watching popped into my head: In the show, an adult son, is literally being whored out by his parents for money. The son is given an opportunity by a friend to leave, he would be given a job and a home and a new life away from his crazy parents that whore him for money. But the son won’t go. He says he can’t leave his folks because they can’t make it without him.

It was a scene that really bothered me, I couldn’t figure out why the hell the son wouldn’t just leave — I would. I contemplated on it for a while and finally I realized for the son, the identity of being the person who was needed, depended on, was the reason he endured actual torture, even when given a way out. That is why he didn’t just put down his old life and leave. Same as I can’t put down my own torturous beauty rituals and be done.

Even when there is a steep cost, the need to affirm ourselves, who we think we are, is so profound we persist in the arbitrary activities we believe will affirm us. Even through the dividends I get from any painful efforts are temporary, I persist. So the question is – how do I stop? How do I stop if I already know climbing up the mountain sucks, being on top is short ( and distracted by thoughts of preservation of the high and climbing higher next) and the down sucks even more?

Response from Mae Neecha: More Tuk Tot Pie (suffering). Stopping comes from seeing enough Tuk Tot Pie, in both the worldly and dhamma senses

Further thoughts on the topic of beauty and self: I realized the other night that the reason I care about beautifying the body so much is because it is a litmus test for my desirability. Like a fish tank strip — the strip itself isn’t acidic or basic, it doesn’t have an innate acid/base quality, but it ‘proves’/reflects those qualities in the water. It is what makes them visible and knowable.  So I know  I am not my body, but the body –all my belongings– are a required tool to prove something about myself.

At the end of the day, for something to reflect me I need to be able to control it don’t I? How can I take pride in and depend on something like a body to represent me if I can’t even make it do what I want? If my ability to mold it is constantly superseded by reality, time, rupa rules and circumstance?



							
No More Than The Sum of Its Parts

No More Than The Sum of Its Parts

I had been watching the Marvel movie, Dr. Strange: At the start of the movie, he is a sucessful surgon –he has status, respect, fame, wealth — he is on top of the world and its worldly conditions. But then he is in an accident, he injurs his hands and he is unable to continue performing surgery, he loses his fortune, his fame, status and respect, he falls low in the world. When he was at the top, he collected watches and though he sells most of his stuff when finances get tough for him, he holds onto a single watch that holds meaning to him.  One day, he is attacked in the street and the attacker tries to steel his watch, Dr Strange cries out that it is “all he has left”, and though he is able to fend off the attacker, the watch is broken in the process. Dr. Strange’s heart is clearly broken as well.

This one scene, it deeply moved me. Afterall, I can relate — just like Dr. Strange, I assign meaning to my objects. For him, that watch was more than glass and gears, it was an object that represented his whole past life, his former fame and fortune, it was part of an identity that he had lost, though continued clinging to it nonetheless. But the truth is, a watch is just rupa, there is nothing more to it than its parts, there is no meaning tucked in and hidden amongst the springs. The meaning, the value, is something external, something that we apply, the meaning isn’t in the object, it is in our heads alone.

When I consider my beloved stuffed animals, I can see the truth that their value is not innate: These objects, so precious to me becasue they were gifts from Eric or my dad, wouldn’t raise more than a few bucks at a garage sale. Afterall, objects are only 4 elements that, in certain states, under certain circumstances, and for certain times, have utility, not value, not meaning.  But me, I am moved by each item in my home, by the stories they conjur in my head. I am moved by mineness.

The real question is, why am I so moved minenss? Isn’t claiming (the process of making something mine) just the process of arbitrarily picking an object to be me/mine/represent me? It could be a watch, a house, a city, a car — it really doesn’t matter what bundle of 4es I choose– I assign value to them, value and meaning, that I use to curate my sense of self, just like Dr. Strange’s watch represented his identity as the prodogy surgon.

When I watched Dr. Strange, I got myself carried along by the story, began to identify with the character, the meaning that watch held, it felt real and relatable. But when I stepped back, I saw it is simply not true, a watch can’t possibly be all you have left of who you are, becasue a watch is not in any part who you are. A watch is no more than the sum of its physical parts, there is no identity to be found there.

Our beliefs about these objects may be untrue, but the dukka we experience over them is still vivid and real.  As those robbers came creeping onto the screen, I felt fear; as Dr. Strange cried out when his watch broke, I felt his shattering loss. But just like meaning, the pain of loss is not in these objects, it exists only in our hearts and our hearts are in our power to change.

 

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