Alana's Dharma Blog

I was walking around the mall yesterday and I went to the American Girl store to look around. For those of you, Dear Readers, who don’t know what this is, google it. Seriously, it’s amazing, a vast store with nothing but huge, pricey dolls and doll accessories. There is even a salon and make-up counter where your doll can get a makeover. Each doll comes with a book, a story about who they are, and a starter kit of accessories unique to her – an equestrian set for the cowgirl, a surfboard and lay for the Hawaiian girl, Native American ritual objects for the American Indian Girl. Add on items at a charge, of course.

I marveled about how these pieces of plastic were given these elaborate identities. How it’s so natural to build identities with objects that little kids who get these dolls instinctively believe. Become invested. Are able to build ever more stories, with ever more accessory packs.

Its easy to wistfully shake my head at the naivete of children, but doesn’t adult Alana do the same? With just a few wardrobe adjustments didn’t I sell myself the ideas of being (and try to broadcast to the world) Free-Love-Hippy-Alana in college. Smart-Sexy-Professional Alana at my first job, then there was Early-SF-Hipster-Alana, followed by Aspiring-Wealth-Designer-Alana…More recently, this tendency of clothes for identity has loosened a bit. Maybe I have come to understand a little mor clearly, maybe I’m just getting older and it feels harder. But isn’t my body just the same?

For my whole practice, its been easier to consider the clothes, the homes, the car, and see how I use those 4e objects to tell my story. They are the accessory packs. But the body, that seems so much more me, who I actually am. It’s still there when I strip off the clothes after all.

But after seeing Dark Sister abandon her lightsaber (see the last blog post), a new perspective is dawning on me: The body is like the lightsaber, its just something I pour meaning into, and the meaning I pour into it is self –Alana. Since the body stays with me for the entire course of my memory, for one life, it seems more permanent than the clothes and books and homes that come and go. It seems more basic and primal. But the truth is they are the same: Same 4 es, same process of meaningfication.

I imagine my body to be what holds together my narrative, my identity, my imagined future. But are those things in this alana body any more then those storys and narratives are in the doll bodies? If they were, we sure as hell wouldn’t need accessories and books to sell the tale –it would just be who we were.

Meanwhile, if Dark Sister had understood the lightsaber didn’t mean anything, she could have just used it practically for as long as circumstances allowed her to use it. It wouldn’t have to have the heavy, aching meaning, we assign things. It wouldn’t hurt to have, to use and then to loose. But weighing 4es with meaning, it makes them extra burdensome. Even as I sit on a plane, typing this blog, I stress about every sniffle and sneeze I hear, the threat of illness to this beloved body. This is the dukkha my ignorance of objects causes me.

Back at the American Doll store, I had looked at the Hawaiian doll and wondered, with her whole story built around being Hawaiian, what happens if she had to move to New York, who would she be then? Who was I when SF Alana left for NY? Not knowing, feeling lost, it crushed me. Made me hate my new NY life. Over and over I am building my identity off where I live. A New Orleans Alana, an SF Alana, A Miami Alana. Like knowing the streets, or feelin the vibe, or having the neighbors know my name really proves something about myself. Then I have to move. So many times, like 15+ I have moved. Each time has sucked, each left me with a sense of losing my narrative, myself.

It’s not just my attachment to the objects I use to tell my story that pains me, it’s my attachment to the story, the self, that is the root of all this dukkh. Over and over I build identities, and then they are torn down. Never do I stop to consider these identities are fabrications, like the stories crafted by the doll company, to sell the product, get us invested in the tale, claim it, own it, want more of it.

And because I want more, I want to be and become, I am always building anew. New stories, new objects to sell those stories, fresh losses when it falls apart. And the clincher is, its totally arbitrary. I tell the story of an SF Alana because my life circumstances brought me to SF. If I had moved to Hawaii, I would have just as easily become a Hawaiian Alana.

What is arbitrary, what is circumstantial, can’t be who I am. Because what is arbitrary and circumstantial arises based on conditions, sustains based on conditions and ceases based on conditions. And if I am only ever, at most, one in the sea of conditions; part of, and shaped by that sea of conditions; arising, sustaining and ceasing based on a sea of conditions; subject to, not in control of that sea of conditions, than what is conditional can not be me, myself or who I am. This last thought however is a current day reflection. Keep on reading to see how I got here…

I have been watching the new Star Wars spinoff, Obi Wan. In it, heroes and villains alike use lightsabers, the only difference seems to be which color they glow. It’s classic Hollywood dramatic effect.

Throughout the series one of the characters, a hero-turned-villain named Dark Sister, struggles with her decision, with her life choices, with her identity. By the end of the series she decides to abandon her life on the darkside and return the light. In a dramatic moment, she shows her resolve to turn to the good by throwing her lightsaber on the ground and walking away.

As she walks away, the main good guy in the show, Obi Wan, tells her, “Now you are free.”

The scene really moved me, and I immediately thought to myself, “Clearly she is not free, she just wants to become something else, something good.”

I was surprised how naturally this thought came to me. But it was so obvious: Perhaps she is free from one old identity, but she is already building another in opposition. If she were really free, she would pick-up that light saber –a super practical tool in the Star Wars universe – put it in her pocket and keep rolling. She would understand the lightsaber is meaningless, a tool that’s pretty practical to keep around to get shit done, not proof of her hero/villain identity. But the meaning she assigns to the object is too strong. Even as she walks away from it, she is still using it to build herself, to build her narrative as a freshly minted hero.

A long time ago, at a retreat, Mae Yo held up a vase to a student who had been assigned to contemplate on the object. I don’t remember the exact details of the contemplation he shared with her, but it was about becoming enlightened. She asked him what he would do with the vase (presumably a metaphor for his body in this conversation) if he became enlightened. He said smash it, and I remember so clearly the way she shook her head. No she said, why would you do that? You can just put it back on the shelf. Eventually impermanence will kill it.

I’m gonna be honest here: When I was listening to that retreat discussion, I immediately thought the same thing as that other student–smash the vase. Some dramatic, forceful show. When Maw Yo shook her head with disappointment, I was so relieved she hadn’t called on me. Whew, my smart student identity could stay intact for at least one more discussion…

It’s only now, all these years later that her answer came back to me and makes so much more sense: Its just like with the lightsaber, if you know what the item is (a worldly tool), you don’t have to wildly, stressfully, dance around trying to use it to build identity (which it not actually a tool for). You can just use it for useful shit till it can no longer be used. That right there is freedom.

A few bits from some sermons from LP Thoon have really struct me lately. The first was in a sermon on how to get to heaven. He basically said you could do good deeds and not get to heaven. Why? Attachment. You cling to things from this life and then you end up reborn with them. If you want to go to heaven, the way to do it is to relinquish attachment.

In a second sermon on the 3 common characteristics, he explained Annata as, “Nothing belongs to us. Everything is meaningless.” Then he asks how is it meaningless? Leaving the question open for the listener to answer for themselves.

I started thinking along these lines: How nothing belongs to me, how to stop clinging, how to understand the idea that everything is meaningless. The next few blogs will cover some of these contemplations.

____________________________________________________________________________________
I was thinking about the new house I recently purchased in Miami. I realized that it is only convention that makes it mine. By law, I hold a deed, I have a right to use it. But despite the law, it can be taken from me at any time. In this world, it is normal for there to be floods, fires, thieves, civil unrest, imminent domain confiscations, etc. These things don’t give a damn about my deed. The law can’t make the home truly mine if it can be taken away at any time.

What is more is that by law, I also have rights to an Airbnb I rent for a week, or my old Greenwich rental apartment — there is some legally binding contract letting me stay for a time. So why do I imagine so strongly that the home is more ‘mine’ than the rentals? These are all just places I can lay my head while circumstances allow. Places the norms, laws and conventions of our society govern the use of, to the extent they are able.

In my imagination, the home becomes something I will use on my terms, whereas the rentals I must use on someone else’s. But is the house really usable ‘on my terms’? Do my terms dictate if and when I can use the house? In the case I am forced out by a flood –is that really my terms? What about needing to leave because of bankruptcy or rezoning? Shit, this has already happened to me once before: Construction and asthma forced me out of an apartment I had rights to, a contract I had dutifully upheld with monthly rent payments. Why do I imagine the house to be different?

Even while I am able to use the house, can I use it entirely on my terms? Aren’t there already limitations, by city ordinance, by neighbors, by the physical realities of the construction, by my budget, that all govern its use? In the end, the house is something I use temporarily, no more mine than other places I use temporarily. A deed — a legal document, only confers any meaning in conventional, societal terms.

Yesterday, Justice Clarence Thonmas started talking about appealing abortion rights. For decades, women in America have had the right to an abortion –to dictate how we use our body vis-a-vie pregnancy. Now, in one court ruling, decide by 9 total strangers, my body rights, the body rights of all American women,
can be limited.

The rallying call of the pro-abortion movement has long been, “my body, my right”. But when I really consider it, I see a thinly veiled truth behind these words: These aren’t really my rights. If they were my rights, they couldn’t be denied by a law, or by society. They would be a matter of fact, not circumstance and convention. And if I don’t actually have rights to this body, if it is controlled –ALL THE FUCKING TIME –by the state, by social norms, by viruses, by aging cells, by the constant, exhausting, need for food and sleep and shelter, is it mine?

In a context where I don’t control the use of something, when I am bound to interact with it on someone/thing else’s terms, where I have no actual rights to it, when even my ‘reasonable expectations’ for use can be dashed by a construction project, a court ruling, a medical diagnosis –anything, anywhere outside of my control – I’m not so sure I should be calling that mine. Mine is conventional, like a deed. Truth is that convention is ultimately meaningless, a hurricane doesn’t give a damn whether both myself and the state call the house mine.

I was watching a show called The Witcher. In it, there is a powerful sorceress, but she is young, untrained, her family doesn’t see her potential and they abuse her, force her to sleep and eat out in the pig pen. One day, another magician sees the girl and recognizes her potential. This magician goes to the girl’s family and offers them a few cents to buy her and take her away. The father accepts the offer. The young sorceress, named Yennifer, cries and cries at being taken away. Incidentally, years later, thanks to the training of the magician who bought her, Yennifer becomes a rich, beautiful and powerful sorceress, heir to a life seemingly much better than what she had left behind in the pig pen.

The scene of her crying, it struck me so hard – why wouldn’t she want to leave such a shit show life? I couldn’t identify any reason other than that it was ‘hers’. It was all she knew, it was who she considered herself to be. In her mind, it was a foundation of the future she imagined.

No matter how pathetic, painful and meager her life was, she clung to it. Am I doing the same? By clinging so tightly to who I am, to the story I want to write, I accept dukka, I grow content to just have a little less of it, rather than leave a dukka world. Leaving means giving up what I have, who I am.

There is this bias of clinging to what we have. I did it when we left Texas, even though in the end I loved California so much more. I did it when I left California, and I ended up hating NY so much more. But I still ask myself how much of my hate was just resistance to something new, to the loss of what I had identified with before. Did my much beloved California, my SF identity, set me up for NY suffering? And was NY really so bad? Anyway, even if it was, life has moved on, there are new places, new imaginary futures I cling to now.

I consider this lake house we are staying in now: I rented it just a few months ago to solve a problem — my own house was evicting me with chemicals and toxins from the construction project across the street. This house was an emergency solution (there it is again, always solving a problem), a temporary arrangement. But just having it, enjoying it for this moment, and suddenly I am clamoring for more. Willing to suffer, to take on a burden, the stress of a purchase, for more. Why the fuck can’t I just be here now and enjoy the enjoyable parts?

I already have the data on this after all, the future is not what I think it will be: I wanted longer in Miami, and I got it after my mom’s accident forced me back, but it was so stressful, the house was uncomfortable, the weather too hot, Eric testy. I so looked forward to coming home, to enjoying the comforts of my apartment for a little while before we moved, only it was literally making me sick, it was the source of tremendous stress –not the imagined relief –to figure out what to do and where to go. I imagined bad outcomes, needing to find a new place so quickly, and ended-up at this lovely lake house. I was in Manhattan, enjoying it, and realized that when we had moved there I had been so excited about it till we arrived and it wasn’t what I expected. It wasn’t San Fran, didn’t feed my SF identity, so I ended up hating it, making myself miserable, massively adjusting (“fixing”) my life in response. Why — because I couldn’t just accept it for what it was, I had to imagine what it made me.

Like Miami, or Greenwich, or NY, I imagine what it would be like to have the lake house. I can’t just be, I have to imagine, and with imagining there is clinging, and with clinging there is so much suffering. Why not just enjoy what is enjoyable and suffer what is sufferable without worrying how to cling to what is enjoyable, which will inevitably change, or try to avoid what is undesirable, when those circumstances too are bound to change. Clinging (both to what we want and to the hope of escape for what we prefer to avoid) is the bearer of burden, the enemy of equanimity, and yet I seem ceaselessly addicted to it.

The craziest part is, when I really think about the stuff I used to cling to, the things, like Yennifer and her childhood home, I didn’t want to part with, now I don’t care. Sometimes I even feel better off without them: I clung to SF, I’m over it. Clung to the old Houston house, feel lucky at the better life I was afforded because we left and Eric went to Google. Clung to the apt in the Miami, but I have moved on to a better house. Won’t I feel the same about a lake house? Won’t I feel the same about this body and this life? It is so serious, so stressful, while I cling to the things I will inevitably loose. And then I move on, clinging and stressing over new things. New glitzes that glamour me into accepting, clinging to, what hurts me.

A while back I had gone to visit a famous home in rural Connecticut called The Glass House. The home tour highlighted not just the architectural elements of the building, but shard the life story of Philip Johnson, the architect who built and lived there. Johnson spent part of his week at the house in Connecticut and part of his week in an apartment he owned in NY City. He always joked to friends that after 3 days at the Glass House he was tired of the country and needed the city, but after 4 days in Manhattan he was tired of the city and craved the country.

At first brush, it seemed to me that Johnson had ‘gamed life’ he had the perfect solution to restlessness, to boredom, to the limitations of just one place. Badass victory! This is what I want too –for years Eric and I have scrimped, saved, slaved, all for the 2 house solution: A little city, a little country. A winter place and a summer place. Action for me and peace and quiet for Eric. With two homes, we could have it all…badass victors who had pwn’d this life, this world, worked out solutions to all the limitations…

But I thought about it more, considered the question: Beyond the glitz and the glitter, what is really going on here? And I arrived to the conclusion that what a 2 home life really says is that neither place is satisfying, that both places are lacking, that in either place Johnson and I both find restlessness and discontent. That having something doesn’t mean my craving stops, in fact I just end up craving something more, something different.

So what is the nature of these places and homes? Their nature isn’t to satisfy, even if temporarily I enjoy them, their nature is dissatisfying. Or maybe it’s just my nature to always be dissatisfied. Either way, a temporary enjoyment of something doesn’t make it satisfying, just like temporary enjoyment of eating doesn’t make it not a burden.

Currently, Eric and I are staying at a lake house, a country place we are considering purchasing as a second property away from a new city home we recently bought in Miami. Just like Johnson, neither place alone satisfies, so I imagine going back and forth to be a better option. And truth is, maybe it is (in some ways) a better option, maybe it is less dissatisfying than being in one place alone. Just like moving from one position to another is sometimes less painful than holding still. But in either case, the ‘solution’ proves the problem, the discomfort innate in this world. On the scale of dukkha I constantly slide on, I find comfort in those moments of less painful, less burdened, less boring, less stressful. And those moments motivate me to try and seek more moments of less dukkha, rather than motivating me to get out of a world where everything is always just more or less dukkha. It dawned on me, maybe I am laboring towards the wrong ‘solution’.

Intellectually, I understand this. Yet, a big part of me still wants the lake house. That part of me wants the future I imagine my life will be with it. It wants what I view as an ‘easy/known’ solution to the problem of needing a place to go in Miami summers, a quiet place for Eric, a country getaway.
The lake house ‘solution’ arose from a problem: We needed a home and we chose Miami…too hot in the summer, too hectic for year-round life. I still really don’t know what to do –buy the house and be done? Hold out for something better?

I worry about the fact that a lake house bought today cuts off future options… Afterall, just the other day when I went to much-despised-Manhattan, I considered how much I enjoy a walkable city, how nice it would be to live in one (versus in Miami or the country where you have to drive everywhere).

I also worry about not buying the lake house today, will it be a future regret of the missed opportunity to have it, it is so lovely and peaceful after all…just the other day some other potential buyers came to visit, I felt jealous, worried I might loose out. Suffering, not just in having and not having, but even in the imagination of having and not having. That is what these objects are to me – the fodder to fuel dukka.

I am fasting again, day 3, I’m hungry of course, a bit weak. As I made my fast drink — put minimal energy into what I will consume for the day — I did think about how fast periods really are a break from the burden of needing to prepare food, decide what I will eat, planning the day around meals. Eating, as delicious as food is, as much as I enjoy it, is a burden, it is an obligation.

It’s so easy to miss because, duh, eating is normal, and also, more or less, pleasurable. But just because something is normal or pleasurable, it doesn’t mean it’s not a burden: This is the perfect example of something I wrote in my dukkha write-up: “A burden is a burden, even when you pick it up without noticing its burdensomeness, or are reluctant to put it down:”

This here is how the mistaken identity happens…Everything we take-up in this world really is a burden, as soon as we claim, we are obligated. We grasp at shit we imagine will benefit us, will give us the future or identity we desire, but in the moment of seizing we assume a burden, from the get go we are forced to exert effort into trying to keep something continually shifting, marching toward cessation, in the state that we want.

Once we claim something, we are weighed by our own imagination of obligation to it, to our beliefs about what our actions in relation to that object mean about us: I am not responsible for other people’s bodies they are not ‘mine’, but how much shame do I feel when my body gets fat? What dose the sagging drooping chubby figure in the mirror that say about ME?

Once we claim something we are also bound by convention, by the responsibilities that are foisted upon us by society: I may be ready to divorce my spouse, in my mind they are no longer mine, but I am still obligated to alimony payments. I may be ready to walk away from all the shit piled in my storage unit, but I still need to empty it, hire movers, find places to donate it, because I signed a contract and the storage facility holds me liable to deliver back an empty unit at the contract’s end.

Once we claim something, we contend with the expectation others have around our behavior, and the consequences of falling short of those expectations: Won’t a spouse or children I walk away from want to extract some vengeance for my neglect, even if in my own heart I have reconciled to them not really being mine?

It is so easy to be distracted by the “normal”, and by the moments we enjoy, by the conventions that we accept and that are foisted on us, so we don’t really see what things are. But even food, this body, the need to eat is a burden – something so basic and its basic nature is burdensomeness.

In fact, so much of my life is about trying to ‘fix’ things, responding to problems that arise, relieving my burden, mitigating the burdensomeness of my objects. Then, when I have some limited and momentary success getting shit to a state I want, I see it as victory, of some affirmation of self, power, control. I use it to fuel hope that I can find satisfaction in this world, that I can beat the house, control my destiny, be and become…

During the lockdown, my fridge broke. I had stockpiled so much food for just this emergency and I was so, so careful, I was afraid to have a repairman in my home. So with youtube, a toolbox and the ingenuity that can really only arise from need, I fixed the fridge on my own. I felt like such a badass – I can manage my things, protect myself, rise to the occasion. I am good enough, smart enough and doggonit people like me!

But is that really the message of a broken fridge? Look a little deeper and the “solution to problems” actually prove that the innate state of this would is problematic, at least from my standpoint (I.E. ever changing, ceasing, not holding states we want, not abiding by our hopes/rules/expectations/desires) . A broken fridge proves breakability is the nature of belongings. Needing to acquire ingredients, prepare and plan for meals, being forced by my body to eat, it doesn’t prove food is yummy, it proves needing to eat is a burden.

All this made me start considering that it would behoove me to consider –beyond the glitz and the glitter –what things really are. What do I mistake as delicious, desirable, delightful that is really burdensome, or breakable, or disappointingly fleeting?

I was thinking further on how states are annata. About how they are simply a momentary circumstance, a ‘shape’ arising based on causes and conditions. Shifting in accord with causes and conditions as well. But in the moment a state adheres – in the duration between arising and ceasing – the potential for clinging arises.

I get attached to states. I get attached to ice cream when it is cold, to this body when it is healthy, to a peach at perfect ripeness. Actually, as I think of it further, its not really the states I am attached to; I get attached to the characteristics that arise when 4es (intangibles are for another day) are in certain states.

Perhaps you, Dear Reader, will recall a reflection from the dukkha days: I bought a special dessert –with both hot and cold components –to give to my brother. I stressed as I drove home with it that it would get too hot and the ice cream would melt, or too cold and the toppings would lose their crisp. It really made me see the nature of the treat was not its state at a particular temperature, the nature of the treat was flux, but I stressed to try and keep it in a state I felt was ideal for deliciousness. I stressed at its very fluxalicious nature.

Now I see further that what I want, what I love, isn’t the state – it’s the characteristics, in this case of deliciousness, that a particular state imparts. There are qualities that arise during particular states, but they don’t inhere. Its not like that sweet treat IS DELICOUS. Or IS DELICOUSNESS. No the treat I bought was just a treat in a particular state, at a particular temperature, as soon as state shifts, the qualities change, as does the desirability of the treat.

I get attached to characteristics, I tend to imagine a clump, a state, as defined by its qualities. I use qualities/characteristics to identify something, mark it as special, desirable, mine. In the absence of traits identity is meaningless. This then is a double-edged sword, fleeting characteristics of fleeting states trigger craving in me, and I use these fleeting characteristics to deceive myself about the nature of object, as something special, unique, desire-worthy.

But all it takes is for a shift in state and then a subsequent shift in qualities occurs. Supposed identity of any object, and the supposed identity I believe it imparts on me, is gone in an instant. That is because nothing is intrinsically aggregated, or clumped together as Mae Yo says, it is just aggregated momentary into a named state. Then, what is aggregated disaggregates when the causes and conditions shift. In every state, in every phase of a state, there are always the seeds of disaggregation. Everything’s nature is to disaggregate. This is why everything is actually anatta.

In a video on Anatta, Mae Yo talked about a mango seed, how while it is still a seed it is not yet anatta, but when it is planted and becomes a tree then it is anatta. I was able to follow her description, but something about it troubled me…

The starting point of my practice had been impermanence – anicca – the first of the 3 common characteristics. With just a little consideration, it quickly became clear that everything was anicca, nothing was ever fixed or permanent.

The second common characteristic, dukkha, took a whole lot more contemplating. I had been so convinced that there was dukkha in the world, of course, but also sukkah. It wasn’t until my dukkha deep-dive (see the last chapter of this blog, ‘Everything is Dukkha’) that I was able to understand that everything is dukkha. Just more or less dukkha. The problem was that my mind created a blind spot, refused to see dukkha, even mistaking it at times for sukkah. But my wrong view, my misunderstanding, didn’t change the truth –everything is always dukkha.

Now, as I turn my attention to the last of the common characteristics, anatta, my impulse is that it must be the same as anicca and dukkha: Everything is always anatta. My task then is testing this theory, gathering evidence to prove (or disprove it). How can I start understanding this most tricky, slippery, subtle worldly condition? That was the task I decided to work on.

I though more about Mae Yo’s mango seed: How can I prove that even when it is in the seed state, the seed already has the nature of anatta? How do I understand anatta in terms of seeds, or any other rupa object?

I considered a past contemplation: Bubbles and anatta. I find the bubble to be the perfect physical illustration of anatta in rupa terms: The nature to pop is the nature of the bubble, it was always anatta. While it exists, it isn’t even one thing, it isn’t a solid ‘mountain’, it is a constantly shifting-changing-slipping-sliding over itself form, it’s never a fixed thingified thing. But we zoom in on the part that stays fixed, the vague dominess, a shape that allows us to assign it a fixed identity, to name it, to give it sammutti, a supposedly fixed form we call a bubble. The truth is, the bubble is always shifting as it marches along toward manifesting its nature of ultimate cessation, but the continuity of 1 aspect of its form is enough for us to call it bubble.

In fact, its actually somewhat arbitrary — bubble has many aspects after all — but we choose the outside shape, the thing that in rupa persists over time, to define and name that thing. Just as I use my body, the shape that persists over time, to define and name an Alana identity.

I watched Mae Yo’s video on Anatta again, this time with Eric: Eric said that what he understood was that things do clump into form, but there is nothing intrinsic, no identity in that form. It’s just a phase through which something passes.

His take really resonated with me. I can call something a chair, a house, an Alana. But those things have no inherent meaning or value, they are just temporary states through which the 4 elements (and in the case of an alana, the 5 aggregates) pass through before disintegration. A state is not an identity, it can’t be, it arises and ceases subject to causes and conditions. Where would a fixed identity lie in all that flux? How can I assign identity to something conditional? If its conditional it proves only the conditions that led to arising –conditions that shift, change, disappear — it can’t prove a master, a controller, a thing that exists beyond the process of causes and effects, arising and ceasing. When I really think about it, identity is kind of a stretch in the absence of both permanence and autonomy.

The problem is that I imagine there is identity in a state. Just the way I imagine there is sukkah in less dukkha. My imagination obscures the truth and the more permanent a state appears –the more solid, the longer it stands, the more easily I can imagine its fixedness — the more easily I can super impose identity. No self admits there are states, temporary clumps; the mango seed has a seed state, the bubble has a spherical state, in this lifetime my body facilitates and alana state. There is just no identity. No atta.

A few nights in a clean hotel had proven to me that it was time to figure-out a new living arrangement: Construction across from my apartment was making me sick. As I considered my situation, my mind just kept coming back to the topic of self and self-belonging: The apartment that I had considered mine till just a few days ago was something I was now eager to ‘dis-own’. It was literally making me sick, it was unlivable, assaulting my body. How did something mine turn on me like this?

I expected to be able to rely on my apartment, but here I am essentially out on the street, needing to find a new place to live that will support my body’s breathing pronto. Could this home really ever have been mine if it was able to fall into this unlivable state? If the building itself could essentially evict me, toss me out on its terms, not mine? If I controlled my home, I would, by definition, control it all the time, the fact that I so clearly don’t control it now means I was never really in control – the house was always just waiting to shift into a state that was uncomfortable, unlivable to me. Not a single one of the photos, the decorations, the ‘personal touches’ I used to lull myself into forgetting the not-mineness of that house changed its nature in the end. The house looked alana-picture-perfect, only alana could no longer survive in the house.

My body too was betraying me, my own lungs simply refusing to draw breath. I expect to be able to rely on this body to carry me through the world, but it takes so little — just some construction toxins across the street — to make me feel sick, to hurt, to prevent this body from functioning the way I think it “should”.

The problem is not the body though, the problem is that I have a misunderstanding (a permanent view) about the “way I think a body, my body, should act.” It should be healthy. It should support my continued alana-existence in this world. It should be habitable to me, a tool for my continuing the story I have imagined for both the body and the life. That’s a whole bunch of shoulds, but in reality, the body is acting exactly as it is: The causes and conditions, in this case construction toxins meeting my already diseased lungs, for illness and asthma attacks have been met so illness and asthma attacks ensure. This misunderstanding of how a body ‘should act’ arises from a deeper misunderstanding of what the body actually is —I think it is mine, an instrument of my will, a representative of me, a tool to force about my imagined future, my imagined identity. But this isn’t what the body is at all…

Long ago I read a story about the Buddha, details a bit fuzzy, but I recall a woman who was despondent that a number of her grandkids had died, she sent word to the Buddha for some ‘solution’ to her sorrows and got back a simple message: “Everything that is subject to break will break”. And everything in this world is subject to break. This is the nature of all 4e objects, breakability. They may travel through numerous states before arriving at that point, but they will always arrive at the point of breaking because it is not the various states that are their nature –these are just transitory arrangements shaped by shifting causes and conditions — their nature is breakability.

The nature of ice cream is not its perfectly frozen delicious state, the nature is meltability. The nature of this body in not health, it is not the ideal state I imagine a body that represents me will have, it is not a future state that aligns with my own aspirations for the future. The nature of this body is breakability. And just to be crystal clear, breakability is unclumping, annatta.

Before something has broken, it is usable to those with the causes and conditions to use it. I signed a lease and paid rent on the apartment, so for a time, it was usable by me. Causes and conditions have changed –now there is a construction project spewing off chemicals that aggravate my lungs, so it is no longer usable by me. It was never mine, it was just temporarily usable by me.

This body is something I was born into, as long as it works sufficiently to remain alive, it is something I can use to move through this world (it is also something that, in my ignorance, is usable to build a false identity and imaginary future, to act as a prop in the narrative of self that exists only in my head). When it can no longer sustain life/support consciousness, it is no longer usable by me. Like the apartment, it was never mine, it is just temporarily usable by me.

My asthma suddenly became much worse when I returned to Connecticut from Miami. I went outside to get the mail one morning and I saw a cloud of dust enveloping the construction site across the street; standing there hacking, I got to figuring the construction project might be making me sick. To test the theory, I rented an airbnb for the weekend in a rural town about 2 hours north of my house. I got to the rental and the place was so dirty and dusty it was worsening my already aggravated asthma. As I lay awake, struggling to breathe, I considered the deep discomfort of my situation.

It dawned on me that I am always seeking comfort, but I am continually uncomfortable. The evidence is abundant from my travels: How often are the beds bad? The rooms dirty or dusty, or noisy? The service poor? I have taken to carrying a camping bed, pillow, sheets and an air purifier because rooms are so bad so often.

The reality is that I was born into a world that is innately uncomfortable; it is here – in a fundamentally uncomfortable world – that I foolishly seek comfort. How do I know it is innately uncomfortable? Hunger, which is uncomfortable, is the baseline state. I can work (also uncomfortable) to relieve it temporarily, but it always returns. The nature of this body is to suffer discomfort — left alone long enough it always comes to an uncomfortable state. Still too long hurts. No food, no sleep too long hurts. Insufficient temperature regulation hurts. Any state of total inaction, any pause in the continual process of making accommodations to this body to increase its comfort, means discomfort will set-in. Discomfort is the native state.

On some level, humans have known this since time immemorial, we are continually trying to modify our body or our environment to increase comfort. To solve the baseline of discomfort. Why did we build shelter? To relieve discomforts of living outside. Why build a toilet? To relieve the discomfort of squatting to poop. Why did we create beds? To relieve the discomfort of sleeping on the ground. Spices/salt? To relieve the discomfort of food that tastes spoiled.

Of course, some places are more comfortable than others — some hotels, homes or environments are better than others, but they still exist on the scale of discomfort, simply a few notches above my current apartment or the dusty airbnb. And left alone long enough, these places too will become more uncomfortable, dirt accumulates, beds become flat, décor goes out of style. My apartment that used to be an escape from the discomforts of NY, now has a massive construction project out front that makes me deeply pained: Just a small change in circumstances and my heaven, my relatively comfortable place, can become a hell state. Why? Because the nature of this world, of my experiencing it in a body, is discomfort –  time will always reveal that innate nature to us if we somehow we are foolish enough to have missed it to begin with.

this is a direct continuation of the previous blog post Deep Personality Traits Part 1. If you have not already done so, please go back there to read the first part of this contemplation: A stab at the 2022 retreat home work which I turned into Mae Neecha.

---

Now…back to… Goodness has utility…

Goodness has a utility, namely safety: A good alana ( especially one with the effort and willpower to pwn my body and life) gets cookies instead of whammies. She is loved and cared for. This is the trait that makes her special, and therefore exempt from the lows of the world. Each of the virtuous traits contributes to my safety in some way: Afterall, an alana that puts the work in, that problem solves, that mitigates risk, that has the sheer force of will to bring so much into existence, must be safer than a willy-nilley-go-with-the-flow-out-of-control Kim. Abstract goodness and its associated virtues obviously must have physical markings — enter beauty, a reward deserved by the good, a fit and healthy body honed by willpower and effort, a Porche the pinnacle on top and in control of the world car. It also must have behavioral manifestations — a compassionate vegetarian, a warm and considerate SFer in NY, an attentive and valued family member and student and employee. And standing alongside the goodness traits, I have a few others that follow a similar pattern and aim for the end of safety; short callout that cleanliness which I don’t necessarily see as good, is another super important trait for me in the service of safety. Wealth and financial stability are rupa I seek to acquire to help guarantee safety. There are so many facets of my life, and personality that I fixate on this goal of being safe. There is my crazy fear and hypochondria, which is actually a twisted effort at staying safe–if I can catch the signs of disease early enough, be proactive enough I can save myself. Safety is the goal, it is the drive, the characteristics and behaviors that support it are what is important. Those same characteristics are the ones I have ever-so-pragmatically reified as who I am ( biggest strengths and identity). After all what hope do I have of sustaining a good/ on top badass self, without a safety net in this super cruel and risky world?

Now having gotten this synopsis of core traits and tendencies out of the way, I want to point out the most obvious problem: It doesn’t fucking work. At the most basic level it doesn’t work because what do I really think I can be safe from? Do I think any measure of goodness, any type of safety, lets me escape illness, aging and death? As I said before, building good karma (which is hit or missish what I think my ‘virtuousness’ has aimed for, though I have often ended up creating bad karma instead ) certainly gives one a turn at a better life. Hell it is quite clear when I look at my very charmed life, it has worked to some degree, this is certainly a pretty good turn. But here I am still in line, and if you are in line, you are always just waiting your turn to suffer. I pinkie promise we will return to the dukka issue in depth momentarily, but first, let me offer a slightly more nuanced version of why this crazy scheme doesn’t actually work:

Years ago I was hiking and I came across a beaver dam. They are common in Connecticut, and as I looked at it it dawned on me it was a pretty well constructed beaver dam as beaver dams go. Beavers are these master builders, but I am never super impressed with the beaver. I think nothing of it because beaver life and talents are totally unimportant to me. Contrast that with a master painting, or a virtuosic symphony, the constructor of those I celebrate, I value, why –because I love art, I love music. These are things in this world I associate with myself, I build my identity with (beauty>good>safe), hell, I went so far as to create a career that I can use to identify myself with the arts. The more I considered the dam, the more clearly I understood that I am the one who selects what to ‘pay attention to’, what to value, what to interpret as meaningful. It is truly arbitrary. All the qualities I have chosen to call virtuous, all the behaviors that exemplify them, it is arbitrary, based on my own 3s and 4s, my bias. The reality is they are as meaningless as a beaver dam, to the world they are as meaningless a beaver dam, but because I am blinded by my delusion, by myself, to me these are significant and so I gather them up and use them as the building blocks of my atta mountain. But, to make this explicit –how in the hell can I expect to use an arbitrarily chosen set of actions, which I arbitrarily assign value/import to based on how well they align with an arbitrarily chosen set of traits I call virtuous, to keep me safe in a world that so clearly has no shelter? Where there is no one in charge?

And now, as pinkie promised, let’s talk a little bit about dukkha… with the caveat that there is no way I can cover all the sides and facets and levels of dukka bundled in with this nonsense even if I had 100 emails to write to you. This will be some highlights…

Starting with the fact that idolizing these traits, and then trying to ‘live-up to them’, is dukka: Let us remember, I kicked-off this practice, wailing, in the middle of a room filled with strangers about the the ‘epic struggle of trying to be safe versus trying to be compassionate’. 5 years after H1N1 was passed, long after Shak had disappeared from his usual corner in front of CVS, there I am crying about my failure to be the compassionate me I want to be. If that is not dukka I don’t know what is (actually, I do know what is…everything…). My body is plagued by physical injuries born of the extreme willpower and the extreme workouts I used to ‘prove’ it. My hypochondria, and the stress and pain it causes to both Eric and I, was born out of my futile drive to control my body. My need to apply untempered diligence to my studies wracked me with anxiety and nervousness for over two decades, from kindergarten through grad school, pushing and pushing, fearing failure not just of a test or a topic but of myself and my virtue/value as a human. By idolizing these arbitrary traits, and yoking myself with the obligation to try and manifest/embody them, I have the constant struggle to act, the continual fear of failure, and the crushing ego blow when I judge my actions fall short of the standards I have arbitrarily set for what A or B or C virtuous trait should look like. For what an Alana should look like. And since no act persists, and these virtues don’t actually inhere (that self I try to build up all solid isn’t actually solid at all), its insufficient to pass 1 test, to be fit one time, to act kindly or considerately on an occasion, no I must continually run, chase, I am on an endless treadmill to sustain my image of self.

And the dukka is not only limited to those things I call virtues, in what I find important, there is dukkha by treating stuff as trivial too… Had I not trivialized my teacher’s advice to straighten my yoga mat I might have spared my hip? Had I not trivialized Kim’s behaviors, might I have saved our friendship? Just one sentence I said to Eric a few years ago — It was less the words, “whats so wrong with finding another job later?”, it was more the tone– but he was despondent, said I was trivializing his dreams, his aspirations for an early retirement. I have rarely seen him so crushed, he cried and cried. I watched, helpless, what could I say?That was probably the moment our relationship came closest to divorce. The thing is, I’m sure I did trivialize his dreams, I trivialize his thoughts and preferences so often. It is the main source of conflict in our relationship. What about my dhamma practice -I know there are topics I have turned from, considered less important or worthy of my time– till recently dukka was one of them — how much time have I wasted by not giving these a fair or timely think? A while back, you offered an alternative explanation of a wrong view (its just a different articulation of impermanence, but it resonated): You called it having incomplete information. When I cut off a large portion of information, by trivializing it and therefore ignoring (or worse despising) it, I am binding myself to a wrong view
and we all know wrong views are the root of suffering big and small. But this pattern of mine, it is particularly insidious because by carving out the world into what is worthy of my attention and what I will turn a blind eye to, I leave myself so little wiggle room to see another side, the rest of the picture. Its not just instances of suffering, it is a big’ole trap for continued ignorance.

And now, a dukka reflection a wee bit more subtle: By defining myself, and the actions I partake in as virtuous, I shut my eyes to their peril, I act heedlessly because I believe I am exempt from negative consequence, afterall –I’m a good Alana. So now some personal history I’m not super proud of, but I really used to be a player. I had rules to my playin of course, after all I am someone with a strong sense of morality, but my rules were totally arbitrary (imagine that). I had ‘lines’ I wouldn’t cross, I told myself it was only cheating or wrong if it crossed this line –it wasn’t cheating without penetration, it wasn’t cheating if it was emotional not physical. I made sure everyone consented, “knew ahead of time” that my flings weren’t serious, there was no feeling involved –if my partners got attached that must have been their faults, after all, I so honestly and morally articulated my playerhood, my rules, before the relations. Besides –they were flings, their feelings were trivial just based on the context. Now, I look at this behavior and I am appalled –do I really think I didn’t hurt people, that there won’t be consequences to my actions just because I had ‘lines’, because I called myself a moral person following some rules? Of course that is crazy, but what it does let me see so clearly is the way my mind uses these totally made-up virtues to justify, to let me turn a blind eye to, my own actions, to be heedless while pretending I’m ‘covered’. Zoom out a little and I see this nonsense everywhere: The folks violently storming the Capitol, they were ‘protectors of democracy’, that guy who shot-up a Tops grocery in a black neighborhood in Buffalo was just, ‘defending the white race”, the Taliban is just ‘upholding the faith’.

OK , I think I have rambled long enough, and my little brain feels like it may pop, so I’ll stop here. Thank you so much, to you, Mae Yo, and LP for teaching at this retreat. I do have to say I got a ton out of the session on the 3 common characteristics. I had recently listened to the translated sermon clip on the same topic and had been powerfully stuck By LP Thoon’s speaking particularly on Anatta there, in this particular instance he uses a definition so palpable and accessible to me: Anatta as there is nothing that belongs to us, it is all meaningless. And then he asks –how is it meaningless? I have really been thinking about that one question a lot. I guess you can see echos of the answer in my assessment of arbitrary here. It was interesting to shift the focus again and think about Annatta in terms of clumps, in terms of mountains, in terms of what we solidify. It seems to me clinging and solidification go hand-in-hand; clinging is what turns the aggregates to stressful poison (Sankhittena Pancupadanakkhandha duffka), and the stuff we cling to most basically is what we think belongs to us. Wonder what happens if we stop clinging …Anyway, this topic is a lot deeper, I need more time to consider, but stay tuned, I’m sure I’m going somewhere just not quite sure where yet …

Warmly,
Alana

Still in Miami, caring for my mother, I was unable to attend the 2022 retreat. I did however follow along as much as I was able with webcasts and recordings. I decided to try my hand at one of the Retreat HW assignments, to explore our sandans or our deep personality traits/habits. Below is the homework assignment I ‘turned-in’ to Mae Neecha via email. The next few blogs will cover our back-and-forth conversation.
_______________________________
I have been following the broadcast parts of the retreat and decided to try my hand at the homework assigned the other night to explore our sandans. Obviously thats sorta a massive topic to cover in a short HW, but I wanted to touch a bit on some of the patterns of behavior, as well as the traits, beliefs and deeper drives I have come to recognize in myself over the course of my practice. No surprise spoiler alert here: I can trace so many of my actions, as well as the personality traits I seek to build/solidify/become (here-in dubbed ‘virtues’ since that’s how I one-sidedly view them) to a core drive for safety. I lead with that fun factoid because to me, it is one of the most interesting nuggets about myself I have come to recognize over the years, mostly because it is actionable: I love to lead my dhamma contemplations with the simple question, “what is my goal and can I really get that/do that/accomplish my goal?” Can I really hope to find safety in this world? And if the answer is no (it’s always no btw, but I like to prove it to myself), it adds context to consideration of the costs/risks/dukka. Afterall, it’s one thing to suffer to actually achieve something, it’s entirely another to suffer with no hope of ever achieving that thing; the only reward for my efforts being a path to more suffering (everything is dukka afterall). Anyway, I’m getting ahead of myself here so below are my thoughts. Sorry too if it’s a bit half baked, I wanted to be timely sending it.

I started by thinking of something small — how I used to think it was such BS to line up the yoga mat precisely when I practiced yoga. Just a trivial detail, not the meat of practice. I almost willfully refused though teachers pestered me. I dismissed it as trivial because it was trivial to me. To exert control of my self/body by mastering yoga, that is important. That is beyond important actually, it is ‘virtuous’ in its demonstration/manifestation of my extreme will power, diligence, persistence and skill. To waste time on arranging a mat, that’s just missing the ‘point’ of practice, it is beneath me. Only after years of practice did I see that an aligned mat helped foster an aligned body, it helped protect from injury and create a proper foundation for poses and practice. It was important, I just didn’t see it at the time. These days I don’t do yoga anymore, I busted up my hip too badly, it still hurts regularly. Of course a crooked matt isn’t THE ONE CAUSE of a busted hip, and yet I do consider it to be one factor. There are consequences for my views.

My failure to position my mat correctly, this seemingly tiny quirk, actually reflects a deeper pattern of behavior and an indication of what I value/what I seek in the world/who I want to be. The pattern is that I prejudge what is important, and based on my arbitrary, oft ill informed, always deeply biased assessment of what is important — generally defined by what I see as virtuous, good and/or safe — I snap judge what to pay attention to, what is worthy of my efforts, who should be heeded. If something is “important” to me I will apply herculean efforts (extreme workouts, careful management of my health, excelling in school, learning Thai, showing my compassion through diet, etc), but if I see it as trivial, I write it off even if doing so creates a world of hurt, be that a hip injury, or a a long and troubled relationship with my mom because I felt her terms of engaging were silly and should be subservient to my own, clearly superior, terms (the positive shift last year in our relationship actually arose when I understood my own foolishness in believing my terms were somehow superior, or could protect and define me, and my subsequent ability to stop dismissing her terms as trivial).

If something is important to me, like getting hugs as a way to feel loved and accepted, I assume it is important to everyone, and it’s hugs for the homeless whether they like it or not. As a noteworthy aside, what I call ‘important’ behaviors/actions are those that I believe manifest more abstract ideals I value; to hug a homeless person is not just to “share’ a token of love and acceptance, it is to show I love and accept the outcast, it is compassion ‘enacted’. If something is important to me, I assume it is normative; sometimes I get an ugly surprise when I expect, but don’t get, folks following my norms. It is why I am so trusting and easily taken advantage of –I just think that because I would be honest, or follow rules, so too will my financial advisors or employees, and I have been burned before by failing to put in place the checks and safety measures I had dismissed as trivial, unimportant, in a world where these folks, my folks, would so clearly be honest like me. More often though, I just become angry and bitter that the world — that those fucking loud dirty ass NYers — aren’t behaving as they SHOULD (there is a whole multi-blog saga on the extreme pain of my burning hatred of NY, just another dukka call-out here).

Of course, one of many huge patterns/consequences of all this is that I am unbelievably –painfully– judgmental (of myself and of others); even Eric, who looks at me with super ‘soft eyes’, frequently tells me I’m harsh. Seriously though, with this personality type, how could I not be? I use these self-created standards of what is important as metrics I expect to be followed (which is totes delusional since the world follows its metrics — thats the whole 3 common conditions thing– and doesn’t give a fuck about mine, so a little delusion and ensuing dukka call out here). There is no better example than my old best frenemy Kim: Kim and I were close, but at the same time, I constantly judged her life choices (job hopping, randomly deciding to go to law school but then choosing a middling program and then not bothering to try very hard, getting into the burning man party scene at 35), mostly because I felt like she didn’t have her shit buttoned-up, she was totally out of control (and I so deeply value self control, not just as part of my identity, but as a ‘moral virtue’–we’ll get to this). One time, she told me she didn’t bother using birth control, though she adamantly didn’t want kids. When I heard this one I was actually ANGRY she hadn’t gotten knocked-up, it seemed an unjust turn of the world that someone could do something I view as so irresponsible without terrible consequence. After years of my getting burning indictment in my heart every time we hung out until it finally hit me — I set Kim up as a foil to myself, some ridiculous exaggerated antagonist to my self as protagonist; the more harshly I judge her for traits I hate and fear, the better/safer/ more self assured I can feel about the self I am in contrast. A buttoned-up-on-top-and-in-control- Alana, a total opposite of can’t-get-your-shit-together-Kim, thats the me I wanna be. A me who judged my way out of that friendship long ago.

Its also worth a little aside to note where Kim is now: She used that middling law degree and her connections to burning man to set-up a super successful business importing costumes and clothing for the festival. Her behaviors and choices I trivialized ended up being ‘important’ after all, at least in helping build a business that now I see and respect. Impermanence call out too btw–I had written her off as a career failure years ago.

The ‘virtue’ of self control, of being a buttoned-up Alana, is as fine an entree as any into a bit more fundamental bit of my programing: The values on which my judgments of importance are made. Over and over in my stories I see a few defining hero traits: Someone who is in control of themselves –their body and their behaviors– this is virtuous. Someone who is compassionate, who is a good ____ (fill in the blank with the role de’jour important to me/that I want to define me. i.e. good Buddhist, good daughter, good wife, good sister good employee, good friend. Note as well that I know damn well each of these roles wasn’t always important to me, once I was a good Jew not a good Buddhist, prior I didn’t bother being a good sister, my belief I was being a good friend when Kim was not ultimately ended the relationship, and is so much judgment really the attribute of a good friend?). Someone who has extreme willpower, after all only the extremely willed could endure the hardships and risks of being good like hugging homeless folks in a pandemic and long suffering my impossible to please mother. Someone who is dilligent, skilled, cautious, able to problem solve and delay gratification, keeps their word to themselves and others. Who has a strong sense of morality (even though I was the one constantly making up the rules of what constitutes moral or not). And of course, someone who is considerate, who lets traffic enter, and says please and thank you and despises all the rude ass New Yorkers who don’t take time to greet their baristas. I collectively call this set of traits “Good” through frankly, if I am being honest, the definition of good sorta floats a bit to suit my agenda. Which brings me to the fact that “goodness” is not an end to itself, it has utility…

Though, before I move on to the utility I see in my ‘virtues’ and ‘goodness’ I think it is worth explicitly calling-out that it is unbelievably ridiculous, one-sided, one-eye squinted-and-closed, to call these sets of traits – particularly how I seek to define and then embody them — ‘virtuous/good’. We have already talked extensively about ‘compassionate alana’; is it really compassionate to go around groping homeless folks and rewarding them for acquiescing with sandwiches? My stepmom regularly reminds me of what a pain-in-the-ass compassionate vegetarian Alana was to make a special meal for every time I was over. What about the extreme willpower I used to force myself to endure my mother for years? I would will my way through family time, being a total bitch to everyone because I was so miserable, stirring shit with my mom, never actually solving the root issues in the relationship (my views), why –because I was being a self-righteous virtuous cunt gritting my teeth and willing myself to bear it. What about the ‘virtue’ of my consideration, chit chatting with my NY barista — out of spite for the long line of huffing rushers behind me — to prove what a warm, gracious, thoughtful person I am? Or, as we already noted, the simple fact that if I run-around framing my own, arbitrarily chosen, set of ‘important’ traits as ‘virtuous’, it only fuels and feeds the villainization of anyone who doesn’t happen to value and exhibit those same traits at a given time (which FYI, I can’t even exhibit all these traits all the time, attests the slowly creeping up scale repudiating my self control); if I were an angel, I’d clearly be one of those vengeful fiery sword ones.

Now…back to… Goodness has utility…

Goodness has a utility, namely safety: A good alana ( especially one with the effort and willpower to pwn my body and life) gets cookies instead of whammies. She is loved and cared for. This is the trait that makes her special, and therefore exempt from the lows of the world. Each of the virtuous traits contributes to my safety in some way: Afterall, an alana that puts the work in, that problem solves, that mitigates risk, that has the sheer force of will to bring so much into existence, must be safer than a willy-nilley-go-with-the-flow-out-of-control Kim. Abstract goodness and its associated virtues obviously must have physical markings — enter beauty, a reward deserved by the good, a fit and healthy body honed by willpower and effort, a Porche the pinnacle on top and in control of the world car. It also must have behavioral manifestations — a compassionate vegetarian, a warm and considerate SFer in NY, an attentive and valued family member and student and employee. And standing alongside the goodness traits, I have a few others that follow a similar pattern and aim for the end of safety; short callout that cleanliness which I don’t necessarily see as good, is another super important trait for me in the service of safety. Wealth and financial stability are rupa I seek to acquire to help guarantee safety. There are so many facets of my life, and personality that I fixate on this goal of being safe. There is my crazy fear and hypochondria, which is actually a twisted effort at staying safe–if I can catch the signs of disease early enough, be proactive enough I can save myself. Safety is the goal, it is the drive, the characteristics and behaviors that support it are what is important. Those same characteristics are the ones I have ever-so-pragmatically reified as who I am ( biggest strengths and identity). After all what hope do I have of sustaining a good/ on top badass self, without a safety net in this super cruel and risky world?

Now having gotten this synopsis of core traits and tendencies out of the way, I want to point out the most obvious problem: It doesn’t fucking work. At the most basic level it doesn’t work because what do I really think I can be safe from? Do I think any measure of goodness, any type of safety, lets me escape illness, aging and death? As I said before, building good karma (which is hit or missish what I think my ‘virtuousness’ has aimed for, though I have often ended up creating bad karma instead ) certainly gives one a turn at a better life. Hell it is quite clear when I look at my very charmed life, it has worked to some degree, this is certainly a pretty good turn. But here I am still in line, and if you are in line, you are always just waiting your turn to suffer. I pinkie promise we will return to the dukka issue in depth momentarily, but first, let me offer a slightly more nuanced version of why this crazy scheme doesn’t actually work:

Years ago I was hiking and I came across a beaver dam. They are common in Connecticut, and as I looked at it it dawned on me it was a pretty well constructed beaver dam as beaver dams go. Beavers are these master builders, but I am never super impressed with the beaver. I think nothing of it because beaver life and talents are totally unimportant to me. Contrast that with a master painting, or a virtuosic symphony, the constructor of those I celebrate, I value, why –because I love art, I love music. These are things in this world I associate with myself, I build my identity with (beauty>good>safe), hell, I went so far as to create a career that I can use to identify myself with the arts. The more I considered the dam, the more clearly I understood that I am the one who selects what to ‘pay attention to’, what to value, what to interpret as meaningful. It is truly arbitrary. All the qualities I have chosen to call virtuous, all the behaviors that exemplify them, it is arbitrary, based on my own 3s and 4s, my bias. The reality is they are as meaningless as a beaver dam, to the world they are as meaningless a beaver dam, but because I am blinded by my delusion, by myself, to me these are significant and so I gather them up and use them as the building blocks of my atta mountain. But, to make this explicit –how in the hell can I expect to use an arbitrarily chosen set of actions, which I arbitrarily assign value/import to based on how well they align with an arbitrarily chosen set of traits I call virtuous, to keep me safe in a world that so clearly has no shelter? Where there is no one in charge?

And now, as pinkie promised, let’s talk a little bit about dukkha… with the caveat that there is no way I can cover all the sides and facets and levels of dukka bundled in with this nonsense even if I had 100 emails to write to you. This will be some highlights…

Starting with the fact that idolizing these traits, and then trying to ‘live-up to them’, is dukka: Let us remember, I kicked-off this practice, wailing, in the middle of a room filled with strangers about the the ‘epic struggle of trying to be safe versus trying to be compassionate’. 5 years after H1N1 was passed, long after Shak had disappeared from his usual corner in front of CVS, there I am crying about my failure to be the compassionate me I want to be. If that is not dukka I don’t know what is (actually, I do know what is…everything…). My body is plagued by physical injuries born of the extreme willpower and the extreme workouts I used to ‘prove’ it. My hypochondria, and the stress and pain it causes to both Eric and I, was born out of my futile drive to control my body. My need to apply untempered diligence to my studies wracked me with anxiety and nervousness for over two decades, from kindergarten through grad school, pushing and pushing, fearing failure not just of a test or a topic but of myself and my virtue/value as a human. By idolizing these arbitrary traits, and yoking myself with the obligation to try and manifest/embody them, I have the constant struggle to act, the continual fear of failure, and the crushing ego blow when I judge my actions fall short of the standards I have arbitrarily set for what A or B or C virtuous trait should look like. For what an Alana should look like. And since no act persists, and these virtues don’t actually inhere (that self I try to build up all solid isn’t actually solid at all), its insufficient to pass 1 test, to be fit one time, to act kindly or considerately on an occasion, no I must continually run, chase, I am on an endless treadmill to sustain my image of self.

And the dukka is not only limited to those things I call virtues, in what I find important, there is dukkha by treating stuff as trivial too… Had I not trivialized my teacher’s advice to straighten my yoga mat I might have spared my hip? Had I not trivialized Kim’s behaviors, might I have saved our friendship? Just one sentence I said to Eric a few years ago — It was less the words, “whats so wrong with finding another job later?”, it was more the tone– but he was despondent, said I was trivializing his dreams, his aspirations for an early retirement. I have rarely seen him so crushed, he cried and cried. I watched, helpless, what could I say?That was probably the moment our relationship came closest to divorce. The thing is, I’m sure I did trivialize his dreams, I trivialize his thoughts and preferences so often. It is the main source of conflict in our relationship. What about my dhamma practice -I know there are topics I have turned from, considered less important or worthy of my time– till recently dukka was one of them — how much time have I wasted by not giving these a fair or timely think? A while back, you offered an alternative explanation of a wrong view (its just a different articulation of impermanence, but it resonated): You called it having incomplete information. When I cut off a large portion of information, by trivializing it and therefore ignoring (or worse despising) it, I am binding myself to a wrong view
and we all know wrong views are the root of suffering big and small. But this pattern of mine, it is particularly insidious because by carving out the world into what is worthy of my attention and what I will turn a blind eye to, I leave myself so little wiggle room to see another side, the rest of the picture. Its not just instances of suffering, it is a big’ole trap for continued ignorance.

And now, a dukka reflection a wee bit more subtle: By defining myself, and the actions I partake in as virtuous, I shut my eyes to their peril, I act heedlessly because I believe I am exempt from negative consequence, afterall –I’m a good Alana. So now some personal history I’m not super proud of, but I really used to be a player. I had rules to my playin of course, after all I am someone with a strong sense of morality, but my rules were totally arbitrary (imagine that). I had ‘lines’ I wouldn’t cross, I told myself it was only cheating or wrong if it crossed this line –it wasn’t cheating without penetration, it wasn’t cheating if it was emotional not physical. I made sure everyone consented, “knew ahead of time” that my flings weren’t serious, there was no feeling involved –if my partners got attached that must have been their faults, after all, I so honestly and morally articulated my playerhood, my rules, before the relations. Besides –they were flings, their feelings were trivial just based on the context. Now, I look at this behavior and I am appalled –do I really think I didn’t hurt people, that there won’t be consequences to my actions just because I had ‘lines’, because I called myself a moral person following some rules? Of course that is crazy, but what it does let me see so clearly is the way my mind uses these totally made-up virtues to justify, to let me turn a blind eye to, my own actions, to be heedless while pretending I’m ‘covered’. Zoom out a little and I see this nonsense everywhere: The folks violently storming the Capitol, they were ‘protectors of democracy’, that guy who shot-up a Tops grocery in a black neighborhood in Buffalo was just, ‘defending the white race”, the Taliban is just ‘upholding the faith’.

OK , I think I have rambled long enough, and my little brain feels like it may pop, so I’ll stop here. Thank you so much, to you, Mae Yo, and LP for teaching at this retreat. I do have to say I got a ton out of the session on the 3 common characteristics. I had recently listened to the translated sermon clip on the same topic and had been powerfully stuck By LP Thoon’s speaking particularly on Anatta there, in this particular instance he uses a definition so palpable and accessible to me: Anatta as there is nothing that belongs to us, it is all meaningless. And then he asks –how is it meaningless? I have really been thinking about that one question a lot. I guess you can see echos of the answer in my assessment of arbitrary here. It was interesting to shift the focus again and think about Annatta in terms of clumps, in terms of mountains, in terms of what we solidify. It seems to me clinging and solidification go hand-in-hand;clinging is what turns the aggregates to stressful poison (Sankhittena Pancupadanakkhandha duffka), and the stuff we cling to most basically is what we think belongs to us. Wonder what happens if we stop clinging …Anyway, this topic is a lot deeper, I need more time to consider, but stay tuned, Im sure I’m going somewhere just not quite sure where yet …

Warmly,
Alana

Several times, over the last few weeks, friends of my mom’s would come to visit her and upon meeting me they would pull down their masks and then ask me to pull down mine, demanding to let them see my face. This is in the ICU, hospitals, nursing care facilities –high risk places for myself, for my mom, for countless other folks around.

To be honest, it made me angry at first, violated, that someone would ask me to incur such risk/put so many at risk just so they could have the satisfaction of seeing my face. But it just happened so many times, I got to thinking a bit more about the dynamics.

It dawned on me these were my mom’s friends — they wanted to connect, to know me and be known by me. Seeing the face was a proxy for intimacy, for exposing self/identity. For identity, we incur risk.

I’m as vain as they come, and yet in this context, the absurdity of using flesh and bone as a proxy for self was so clear: These people don’t need to see my face, its not me, its not who I am.

How is it that if this basic fact is so clear in the hospital context, it isn’t clear all the time? Why do I persist with the botox and fillers, stress over each wrinkle, pluck every gray hair. Why don’t I always see the truth that the face, the body, is no proxy for who I am.

Even in the right view, this face is not who I am, there is a wrong view underlying it. That I can claim identity as I see fit: I will adjust my sense of self to circumstance. When there is too great a risk, I’ll happily say this face isn’t me. But when I see old friends, show up to an event — when some part of me either wants/ or feels compelled — to be judged by the degree of my success in maintaining my figure and my face, then I can’t see the truth. In those moments I claim this face as mine, as a representative of who I am.

I am continually trying to read the world, to adjust to it. It is like each moment I head to my closet, survey my clothes, try to pick out what rupa thing I can put on to be who I want to be, to prove that identity to others. In most cases, the first thing I grab to ‘put-on’ is this face, this body. In the hospital I was so quick to say this is not me. Why? Because saying it, needing to unmask it to assert myself, was a danger. This is not the clear view of rupa is not self. This is the doubly deluded view I can build a self, use rupa to do it, and that both rupa and self will adapt to my desires, priorities and needs.

At the core of Buddha’s teachings are the 3 common characteristics: Dukkha, impermanence (anicca)  and no self (anatta). These, as their name implies, are the fabric of this world, the fundamental truths to which everyone and everything is subject. All of our ignorance, and the resulting dukkha we experience, arises because we don’t understand the 3 common characteristics, we don’t see how we are subject to them.

I catch myself all the time, imagining there is some workaround, some way to — if not entirely avoid these three marks of existence — bend them to my will, experience them on my terms, at least eke out a little management of duration. This my friends is the OG poison, the heart of my delusions, the basis of misunderstanding. This is the most fundamental wrong view that the entire path of practice is meant to help us uproot.

For me anyway, anatta is the most subtle of these 3 characteristics. The hardest for me to get my head around. Mae Yo talks about it in terms of un-clumping. In one of my favorite sermon clips, LP Thoon says, “Annata as nothing belongs to us. Everything is meaningless.” Over time, I have started to understand anatta in terms of conditionality — what is conditional arises based on conditions, exists and shifts dependent on conditions and then ceases when the conditions for cessation have been met. But I am getting ahead of myself here…

I  started my practice becoming intimate with impermanence, and finally achieved some clarity around dukkha, it certainly seemed time to begin pressing harder on anatta. So in this next chapter, I will share my budding explorations of anatta. Of course, what is new, is just an extension of what is old – so here we go, once again, back to self and self belonging.