Alana's Dharma Blog

Introductory Note on Timing:  As I was writing the last few blogs I noticed that I had accidentally skipped over this current entry, about yielding, that I had meant to post back in the ‘Odds and Ends’ period. It comes from summer 2013  and, since we are already a little out of order, I thought I would include it this week before we get back to our ‘regularly scheduled blog’…

     If you don’t come, I’ll go…If you don’t do it, I will”        — Luang Por Thoon Khippapanyo

I was outside, sitting on a bench reading, when a bee flew-up and started buzzing around my face.  At first I shifted in my seat, thinking maybe that will get it to go away, but no luck. Next I swat at it a little, wave my book in its direction, I certainly didn’t mean it any harm, but I was hoping it would buzz-off. Again, the bee just stayed-put. Finally I get-up and walk away for a few minutes and come back…the bee is right where I left it. I was so so frustrated. The bee was-up in my world, buzzing around MY SPOT, I just wanted to be left alone to read. For a brief second I think, “I could just kill the bee, squash it and then I would have my spot back in a jiffy”. In that moment my mind screams DANGER DANGER DANGER…I saw it clear as day — this need to defend my body, my space, the willingness to resort to violence to protect whats MINE—  this is how neighbors turn against each other, friends and lovers begin to fight, this is how wars start, how we destroy each other, cause pain for ourselves and the folks around us. I got up, walked away and found a new place to sit.. I yielded and in that moment I was free of the bee, free of the danger of killing the bee, free to continue my reading in peace…

So maybe this all sounds a little blown-out of proportion, a little hyperbolic, going from squishing one bee to World War 3. But, there is another fantastic KPY Technique we sometimes use — Zoom In/Zoom Out. Take the situation we are considering, identify the core issues, the wrong view  if we can find it, and then scale it. Think bigger or smaller according to our need, in order to gather information, clarify the point, the patterns, the costs.

I am a person who, even as a kid, refrained from taking life. My sense of the weight of such an act, the possible perils, is something I never much considered logically, but  sensed on instinct. That’s why when the idea of hurting the bee flickered into my mind, alarm bells went off. I was startled by that raw, dangerous desire to kill and immediately began backing my way into an analysis of my wrong views.

I began with my hot-button topic, control. I wanted to control the bee, control my space, control my body to keep from being stung. I have this deep-seated view that I can exert control to keep myself safe from all the stuff that’s after me. Perhaps it doesn’t work with germs or death or disease, but at least I have some hope with a bee right? But, when my first attempts to control, swatting the bee, temporarily moving away, failed, I  didn’t stop to consider the limitations of my control (even had I killed the bee, would my control have won the day? What about the karma, the consequence, the guilt?) Then  I didn’t question what the costs of exerting control might be (throw-back to the peeing myself story). I just took for granted that I could control, I should –that’s my M.O.

Next I came to the stuff I was trying to exert control  to defend..was it really mine? The bench the spot? I didn’t have deeds to either place, they are public in fact. I assumed I was there first, but then the bee seemed to have a nest nearby. The truth is I sat down and the place became mine, the peace and quiet to read unmolested became my rights –all this happened in my head. But if my right and the bee’s conflict can either really be absolute? Who decides? Does my ability to use force, being bigger than the bee, mean that I should be the keeper of the spot? Does my humanness, my perceived superiority of species over the bee become the criteria? What if there had been an official looking sign reading, “bee free zone” or “human free zone”, would that have settled the case?

This then brings us to the real danger, the concept over which fights start, violence ensues, wars are launched. Mineness, fairness, justice as defined by some criteria I use versus mineness, fairness, justices as defined by the criteria you use.

Late Addition Explanation:   So I will admit here that this whole entry suffers a bit from a later editorial heavy hand. Originally, with this story, I had gotten control, I had gotten a bit about mineness and I had a deep sense of the danger…the way it all fit together however was a bit sketchy. Over time what has become increasingly clear to me is that I stamp certain things as my thing or my right. Then I use custom, or law, or possession, or receipts, or just a firm “because I said so”, to justify my claim…to make it seem so real. Suddenly I have the impulse to act, the need to defend the mineness.  It’s like I go into autopilot and from there I become oblivious to the consequences, or at least, default to the idea that those consequences are worth it, are acceptable.  It took a situation where I thought of killing, something so deeply problematic for me, to snap me out of autopilot and to see the costs, as well as the other options, to move, to yield. Since killing a lowly bee however may not be quite as jolting an idea to you my readers, permit me another tale to clarify:

When I was a kid, my nextdoor neighbor and I had an on-again-off-again war. Sure there were periods of truce, of alliances against other neighborhood gangs, of true friendship even, but usually there was fighting, pranks, tattling and tantrums. At the heart of the conflict was my little brother — both my neighbor and I vying for his attention, for his affection.  One day, I trick the neighbor into his rabbits’ cage and I lock him in. The adults are all worried when he doesn’t come home for dinner, his mom comes and asks if I had seen him, I looked-up with big honest eyes and I replied, “no”. Eventually, of course, my neighbor’s mom finds him, he is ok, the rabbit is ok. I sure got a scolding from the adults and some unremembered retribution from the neighbor, but in the end everyone survived, so it’s easy to call it a cute or funny story,  kids being kids and all.

But when I think about it, it’s really not cute at all; what I was willing to do — take away someone’s freedom, to cause them pain and humiliation, to cause his mom worry, to lie to protect myself — all because my brother was mine, my blood, he was my friend, my companion first. Why should I share, what if I lost him, what if he picks the neighbor over me?  Many adults (though sadly not all), Alana included, have come to see that  incarcerating, lying, torturing others on our whim might not be the best idea. But the seed, the wrong view, it’s still there and it’s scary. It’s not something I want to be subject to, its not an autopilot switch I want hanging out on my dashboard, just waiting for it to control me, to force my hand.

So while I still haven’t beaten mine-ness and me-ness, these days I do stop to ask — in this case, is it worth it to get the last word, to push back, fight back, take back? Do I need to be ‘right’ or can I just be free? Can I let it go? Can I yield?   

Screw, This Dharma Thing

It was the 2013 KPY retreat and Mae Yo gave each of her students an everyday object and told us to go out and contemplate it. I eagerly waited in line to receive my object and when I got to the front and opened my hand, Mae Yo gave me a screw. Honestly I was none too pleased with that screw from the get go. Other folks were getting much cooler objects. The person in front of me got a clock, that’s super Dharmay, contemplating time and all, that I could have worked with, but a screw…what the heck was I going to do with a screw?

I went outside and stared at the thing..my first thoughts, screw this, I totally got screwed. It wasn’t really just my object that was upsetting me, it was the whole exercise, it was the fact that I was feeling super stuck in my practice and had been for months. The screw reminded me who was in charge (hint, not me). As much as I wanted to control my object, now I had a burden, a screw I had to safeguard, keep close, not lose. I had an obligation I didn’t want. Worse than my obligation to the screw though was my obligation to the exercise, to my teacher, to my Dharma practice. The longer I stared at the screw the more I freaked-out…the screw became a symbol for my practice, for enlightenment itself, and I was sitting there thinking, “I hate this screw, I have no idea what I’m going to do with it, but it feels like such a burden.”

First off, I did not want to be forced to give up my identity, which I had worked so hard to create. I didn’t want to lose control over my time, didn’t want to give-up the people and activities I loved. I mean really, can serious dharma practitioners/enlightened people travel, do pilates, go shopping, have relationships with husbands and family and friends?  I also didn’t want the responsibility, to the temple, to any kind of religious leadership role (I had had a lot of responsibilities with my Vajrayana community and overtime, especially as I struggled with meaning in my practice, it had become a hardship for me). As I sat there my brain was running wild with all the loss I imagined would come with the ‘burden’ of enlightenment, this sketch from my notebook pretty much summed it up:

Serious Dharma Practice ≠ (does not equal) Fun, Carefree, Enjoyable Life

Now that I look at this I laugh…because it assumes my current life is all rainbows and unicorns (which if true would make for a very short and boring blog and no reason for a Dharma practice). But back then, my thought was that it was getting dark, I could grab my car keys from my tent, slip out of the retreat tonight and no one would notice till morning. By that time I would have a solid head start (since the Dharma was after me). My follow-up thought however was a bit more rational, clearly I am suffering (i.e. freaking the hell out) perhaps I should use the method that has worked out pretty well so far and try to identify the wrong views…

•  I began by asking myself if all this stuff I am worried about losing  was really all that awesome? Can I really keep it and where is the suffering of having it? I started with identity and looked at its components, my body, my family/friends, my hobbies, my stuff.I felt like I had worked so hard building this life, collecting these things, nurturing these relationships — how could I just walk away and leave it behind. But really, that’s the fallacy of a sunk cost, yes I have put in a ton of work, but does that really mean I should put in more?

And man did I work… For my body to stay strong, to be beautiful, I worked-out 3 X a day. I managed my diet vigilantly.  With every pound I lost I was happy but with every pound I gained I was 10X sadder. Then there was my stuff, my clothes, my furniture, all the things that let me control my image. But to afford it all my husband worked a crazy stressful and hard job. I had to watch someone I love suffer, and endure being in a relationship where I often felt like less of a priority than my husband’s job. Still these things we bought broke and faded and needed replacing. And that relationship, that was so important to me, suffered strain and decay as well. And what about all the activities I enjoyed — this blog is already full of stories about the struggles of my travels, time with friends and family, with my hobbies and my job. I knew I struggled, I knew I couldn’t exert control and keep the people and things I loved..still somehow I felt like practicing was going to ‘take’ from me things I wasn’t ready to lose.

• I already knew I had lost lots of stuff unwillingly,  my next question was had I ever given up anything willingly, rather than having it ‘taken’, and what did that look like. I started by thinking about quitting smoking. Yes, it had been a little hard, but in the end I did it because I was afraid of the risk, tired of the damage it was doing to my body. I had quit yoga for a similar reason, I kept injuring my lower back and I was tired of going back and forth between the yoga studio and my physical therapist. I quit my Vajrayana practice when I got tired of the emotional pain it caused me, my feeling of being lost and angry. I started seeing that there were lots of things I had given up on my own terms, when I was tired of the consequences of them, was it possible enlightenment was  like this too?

At this point I had calmed down just enough to go and ask for help…Frankly I was still feeling stuck in my practice and like a real wreck until Neecha helped me see the next 2 wrong views:

• Just because something is unknown does it necessarily mean it’s bad? Scary?

Part of my fear of continuing to practice, of eventual enlightenment, was that whatever it is, it’s not something I know, it’s some big scary place ‘over there’. My life may be a bit of a mixed-bag, but I prefer the known to the unknown. I prefer what I believe I can control to what seems uncontrollable to me. But can I really control this life? And will all limited control disappear as I move along the path? This brought me to the deepest problem…

• Even though I was (and am) unenlightened, I assumed I knew exactly what that state would look like if I did ever get there. I assumed that it was a proscriptive state, it had various rules and restraint, that were exactly what I (from my unenlightened state) imagined they would be. I thought it was like hitting the security checkpoint at the airport, I would have to leave behind unticketed companions (like my family and friends), water bottles, and other stuff I still loved and wanted but, which broke the TSA/enlightenment  rules.

Finally Neecha said something to me that really resonated, she said, “do you wear glasses? Contacts?” “Yes, I do” I said. Neecha said, “enlightenment is like putting on glasses, it’s not like everything changes, it’s like seeing the world much more clearly than you did before”.  Honestly, I was not fully convinced, I still had my anxiety, my reservations, about my practice and the direction I was going. But, I had cleared it up enough, gotten enough clarity to get unstuck. In my head I told myself, I’ll keep going, I’ll see where this leads, I can always freak out later afterall…

Now that I look back at this story, at the period that preceded it, I suspect that this fear of moving forward was keeping me stuck. In fact, the next big ‘aha moment’, the one that begins the next “phase’ of my path actually happened just a few days after this story. Guess I wasn’t quite so screwed afterall…  

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I was doing a walking meditation, contemplating the inevitability of aging. I thought a little about my body, my life, my family…thought about old pictures and how different everyone looks. Thought about clothes and sizes … Still nothing was really penetrating, I was just going through the motions. I kept pacing, pacing, pacing, and suddenly I became aware of my path.

Originally, I had been walking a circle that had a little bit of sun and a little bit of shade; it was just right. But as I walked, the day aged and I lost the sun. I couldn’t control the sun moving in the sky –gravity, planetary forces, physics are what set those conditions. I can alter my circle a little, I can change to a shadier path: I can wear make-up, get botox, use spanx, choose flattering clothes, use all sorts of lotions and potions, I have limited control. But as the day ages, as I age, it gets harder and harder, I have to walk further and further and still I lose the shade, I lose my beauty and youth. If I keep walking long enough, all the shade will go away. I will be one of those little old ladies, no amount of strawberry hair dye or hot pink lipstick can hide that I have grown old and my beauty, like the shade, has gone away.  I exert a little control, but for how long?

Tired of pacing, I decided to have a seat on a nearby bench. It was again, a nice balance between shade and sun.  But the sun didn’t stop shifting just because I had stopped pacing and before long my perfect shade to sun ratio was lost. It was beginning to get too hot so I moved the bench under a big tree and again I was comfortable. It was only a little while though till I was too hot again –the shade was just disappearing! I fiddle with the bench a bit more and then I realized. For a brief moment, out of all the moments in the day, I was happy, comfortable. For a brief time I was the right age, young (but not too young), beautiful. But In that comfort, in that perfect moment, the seeds of my discomfort were planted –it couldn’t stay the perfect temperature for me, I couldn’t stay the perfect age.

In that moment, I realized there were so many things in this world I never worried about, never missed, never tried to have, to keep, to preserve. For example, I never fantasized about sprouting wings and flying. Flying like a bird just isn’t something I hope for or that I want to achieve. My mind knows this is impossible. But a few moments at the right age, at the right temperature, these are traps for my mind. They are the foundation of further wanting, further efforts to control. They plant the seeds of hope…
The truth is, if I sat on that bench all day long maybe 1 -2 hrs out of 24 would be perfect, most would be too hot, then too cold. I had some limited control, for a little, I could move the bench, put on a sweater, but ultimately, over the course of the day there would be places my control ceased –I would be too hot or too cold. If I never got used to the comfort, if I really thought about how limited my abilities to recreate it were –how much I was at the mercy of the elements — would I keep wanting to sit? Seeing the work that goes into preserving my perfect moment, my perfect age, seeing the inevitability of my failure. Why do I keep trying? Why do I keep coming out and sitting on benches again and again (being born again and again) expecting one of these days will be different? One of these days I’ll win — after all, is it really too much to ask for a warm, shady spot all the time?

I’m preparing for the 2013 retreat and I get a brilliant idea — solar powered shower.  See, back in 2012 I had to take a few cold showers and I was none too pleased. So, I decided this year I would be prepared; I would bring one of those camping showers that had solar panels to heat the water. No more cold showers for me!!

I did all my research, read reviews, picked-out the best product. Then, with weeks of time left before the retreat, I placed my order with Amazon. When it arrived, I checked it out, tested for holes or leaks, made sure the panel worked. When it came time to drive-up to the retreat, I packed it safely in my car. I was ready.

Freakish, unseasonal thunderstorms. That’s what we got at the 2013 retreat. Days and days and days of no sunshine at all. So much for a solar powered shower…

I did all the “right” things, I researched a good product, I ordered it in time, I remembered to pack it, I packed it well so it didn’t break. Plus I was being a good Alana, a super-tree-huggy-power-saving-eco-lover that all the gods should bless ;).  But then it rained. I took the experience to heart, used it as evidence to see the limitations of my control. That  control, it got me a product, got me up the mountain with it, gave me the illusion I was managing the situation, but the weather showed me that my control is clearly not the last word. The lesson: my control is partial. But still my control is real, right? I’m in control of some things, that must be true right? Ok, my control as limited… I can work with that.

And now for a later day addition to this story: Fast forward 3 years to several weeks ago (Aug 2016). I order a box on Amazon,  I selected the product, choose the 3 day shipping window, clicked buy. 3 days later, no package. It said it was coming, there was no warning anything had gone wrong, but on that 3rd day, the sun rose and the sun set and I still had no package. WTF???

Seriously, I know I can’t control the weather … but Amazon it’s so dependable, it always sends packages, I did all the right things, WTF???

As I stare at the screen of my computer trying to figure out what exactly to do about the package now…I realize, my control is not limited.  It doesn’t exist at all.  If I were really in control, I would be in control all the time —  that is the nature of control (it means I am the one that causes, that I can override any other causes, that something is totally part of my volition, my will). If I control my car there will never be that one accident, if I control my body there will never be that weight gain, if I control my packages there will never be one that goes missing. It’s like being pregnant, you are or your not, its binary, that’s the nature of pregnancy. It’s not like there can be a little pregnant, limited pregnancy…that’s not how it works.

So what’s really happening here? Where is my mistaken view of control arising from?  I observe patterns, I remember that an Amazon 3 day has come countless times before and I assume I’m somehow the cause, or at least a partial cause (ie if I order 3 days, pay my prime membership, click the right button,  I’ll get the box). I click the button I get a box, I click the button I get a box, I click the button I get a box, I click the button I get a box –it must be my clicking the button that causes the box!

I have a permanent thought (wrong view) that what has happened before/what I imagine is how things really are/will be. Or that if it’s not, I can intervene, I can call the post office, get a new package sent, do something to MAKE IT HAPPEN. I insert my big fat self into the mix and think I’m the ‘cause’. I want to think that, need to think it, to lend credibility to my specialness. To believe the world is a safe place all buttoned-up, in which I have some measure of control.

The truth however is that the box’s arrival depends on its own set of rules. Sure, my desire for the package may plant the seed. But a seed, after being planted, grows based on soil, water, light, so many factors independent of the the farmer. The Amazon box also has countless factors that go into getting it to my door, the seller, the shipper, the product, the mail, the road system, and many more…all of these beyond me, beyond my control. How then can I say one input, clicking the button (desiring something),  that sometimes does and sometimes doesn’t work, is control? And how do I fail to notice that by ordering the box, thinking full well it would come, wanting it, needing it to come, I planted a second seed, a shadow seed — the seed of my disappointment when it doesn’t come. The seed of my effort to intervene, to call the post office, to try and get a new item, to hope again for the box and subject myself to potential disappointment all over again if it still does not come.  

How many more times will I make this same mistake? For how much longer will I tell myself fairy tales about Alana the center and master of the universe who has warm showers and packages revolve around me? I don’t know. But I do know there is a third seed that has been planted, the seed of truth. Understanding is starting to take root. The world is clearly telling me its nature, my nature. I just need to gather the evidence,to listen,  to learn to believe.

Panhandlers have always annoyed me. I feel so uncomfortable when I’m asked for money on the street…I feel so torn,  put on the spot, so UGHHH. On one hand, I don’t want to be a ‘bad’ Alana and say no. On the other hand, my Inside Voice is screaming… “what did you do to deserve my money?” (give or take a few vulgarities…that voice in my head has a potty mouth).  

One day, I’m on the street carrying a bag full of bags that I was selling as part of the temple’s Sappan Boon fundraiser. Someone asks me for money and before I could reach for my wallet, before my inside voice started screaming, I realized  “oh snap — this is just like me and my bag sales.”

At first, with the bag sales, I only wanted to ask folks close to me. Only those I thought owed me something. See I’m the kind of person that likes a ‘balanced book’ on my debts. I give if I think you are ‘worthy’ or are valuable to me and I try not to ask too much in return.  I rather have someone owe me one than the other way around. Naturally (because I’m a predictable creature if nothing else) a lot of this has to do with control, or the illusion of it anyway. If books are balanced, relationships are tit for tat, or, at least if I’m on top, things are predictable, they are on my terms. I am in control. If I owe someone else, if I need to rely on others, to depend on their help, well then I’m not in control and I’m burdened by a debt (and believe me debts weigh very heavy on my heart… my biggest ones I fear I will never be able to repay). Double no bueno.

When it came time to helping support the Wat though, I wanted to do more (I’m in mega debt to my teachers and the 3X  gems after all). I am such a recluse, have so few friends/family, that if all of them bought bags  I would have sold like 10 bags (and that’s only if some folks bought two). When I really thought about asking strangers and random folks, I realized “I don’t know other people’s karma. I don’t know their reasons for wanting or not wanting to buy a bag. I don’t know what benefits it will have for them. Really, I am just the seller, the conduit to transfer a bag. Its not all about me or my debt ledger.” And, as much as I hated to admit it, that meant I wasn’t really in control.    

The Panhandlers are the same thing. My reservations about both asking and giving are rooted in my wrong view that things will happen on my terms. That as long as I have those terms, stick to them, they make me in control, safe. That those terms are some kind of universal truth, that I am all knowing enough to know what that truth is, what that balance sheet really looks like.  I want to ask the owers and give to the worthy. But again, like with the bag buyers, I don’t know the panhandlers karma, their story, I don’t know my connection with them or their connection with the other folks they ask for money. In truth I look at them, the circumstance, the rupa  and I snap a judgment.  I really don’t even know if they meet my own criteria of ‘worthy or valuable’ (whatever that means or is). If I knew they were some kind of hero, some great compassionate soul, a scholar,or an animal rights advocate, or a Bhuddisty Buddhist, anyone I am biased towards then wouldn’t I actually want to give to them instead of doing it because I feel guilty?

In the end, I swallowed  my discomfort and started asking everyone — literally, everyone –to buy a bag.  I asked co-workers, folks at my local restaurants, made announcements at every class I went to at the gym, asked my hairstylist, the parking attendants at my garage, neighbors, basically anyone who didn’t run away before I could get a sentence out. And while that was still probably not a ton of folks (I live a pretty small life), I did it with freedom from being bogged down by the all about me-ness.

As for the panhandling, my ughhh feeling was eased a lot after this contemplation, but still a bit of a thorn in my side. That wasn’t quite resolved till years later when this topic came-up again. When this contemplation rose to the surface and I used it, fed on it, transformed it into a mega twisting tale of criteria and judgment, deserving and desire, suffering, being an A****** to others, frying squids alive, being a player in my youth, IBS, desperately needing the bathroom and, of course, panhandling. Hopefully, I have left you wondering just how that tale unfolds. I’m afraid you will need to wade through quite a few more blogs before we get there. So read on Dear Readers, read on…

So yes, seriously, I did in fact get run down by a black rhinoceros when I was on safari in Kenya. Lets just say that some big learnings followed that encounter. Here I will share the entry from my notebook just after the incident (because, of course, I brought notebook on safari just in case I had a dharma moment). Note, this is another example that closely follows the 5 Question Method outlined in Method to Undo the Madness :

The Story:  I am on a walking safari vacation in Kenya and we come across a mamma rhino and her baby standing a small distance away. Our guide advises us to get closer and hide behind a small bush. He then  proceeds to start making sounds that he hopes will get the rhinos to come out of the shrubs where they are eating. I watch the mamma rhino begin to shift, looking kind of agitated. I thought to ask the guide to stop, but the guide, who was armed with a gun, explained, “we are totally safe, rhinos ‘mock’ charge all the time but rarely actually attack.” The next thing I know the rhino is real charging and I am directly in her path. I think, “crap, I’m going to get hit.” Then I think, “how is this possible, I’m going to die on vacation”. Then I think, “well it clearly can happen, some folks do in fact die on vacation”. Between all these thoughts…I curl into a ball on the ground, the rhino kicks me, but I’m below her horn so I avoid being gored. And then, I’m alright. Sore, achy, but alright. We walk back to camp and I head straight for my notebook.

The Wrong View/Concept:

• 1) That the guide or the gun or the shrub would protect us. That someone or something can guarantee safety all the time.  In truth, I don’t control the guide, the gun, the rhino or the shrub so how can I assume a guarantee of safety when it is completely beyond my control?

• 2) That the rhino’s behaviors are predictable. That it will mock charge but not really charge. That any situation has a predictable outcome. That what usually happens, or what happened before, is by definition what will happen again. In truth, even if a rhino mock charges 1000 times that does not mean that 1001 will also be a mock charge.

• 3) That I would surely get run down, and if I was run down I would die. This is the same logic I used in Homeless Alana (if I hug then I will get swine flue, then die) and the story with my friend Barb (if she doesn’t invite me out then she doesn’t want to be my friend) and 1000 other places. It’s the belief that for sure A gets me to for sure Z without considering all the other possibilities in between.

The X Factor: As a reminder, the X number, is where I tie in other stories, where I identify deeper issues or tendencies going on that are part of a pattern of my beliefs/personality (sandan). In this story there is a biggie — animals and I have a special relationship together and we are, on a whole, A OK with each other. You can actually see hints of it in some of the other stories I have shared; Compassionate Alana who is kind to animals to be loved, Vegetarian Alana who defines her special goodness through not eating animals. Going all the way back to my childhood infact, there are endless occasions where I protect animals, or turn to them for love and support when I can’t get humans to fulfill those needs, or in general make myself special in relation to the animals. I asked myself, if that rhino had been a car driving dangerously with a driver that looked agitated, would I have gotten so close? Would I have so easily believed someone who said it was going to be OK? The truth is, despite my many many fears, the fact that I thought death lurked around every corner, I never worried about harm coming from an animal. In my crazy mind, which saw the world only from my view, I  thought I love my furry/feathered friends so they must love me back.  Which brings me to a final wrong view:

• 4) That its not my karma to be killed by an animal, that they are no danger to me. That I can know my karma, that it is based on my limited understandings and one sided wrong views. That this world is a simple tit for tat –I love you so you must love me too. That anything, any class of beings is uniform, the same, that I can label them all ‘safe’ and move on.

The Risks: I could be injured or killed.  The rhino could be injured or killed. The baby rhino could be left without a mom. The guide could lose his livelihood. Our vacay could be ruined. Eric could no longer want to travel. Folks could be less inclined to visit Kenya and tourism could be hurt.
The Dharma:  Clearly, rupa plays a starring role in this story. The form of the gun, the guide, the rhino… I try and reify (to make real and solid) form, assign it a certain meaning or function so that in my mind I can make it something predictable. I ignore that form changes, that the meaning I assign to it also changes, that those meanings are not for real or for sure.  I do this for my own agenda —  to feel safe, to feel a sense of well-being and security, to explain the world and my place in it. So for me, animal = friend. Or gun=safety. Or guide = all knowing. Ironically though, this fixed belief in the meaning of rupa does the opposite of keep me safe. It obscures risk, hides the dangers. This story clearly illustrates the falsehood of my  beliefs and the perils in holding them.

I love bacon –seriously, I do a little celebration dance in the kitchen whenever my husband cooks it. I wrote a little song too: Bacon bacon such a treat, something super delicious to eat…But, it wasn’t always this way, in fact I was a moral vegetarian for more than 20 years. Squiggly line zoom-out…

I was about 10 years old, my  family was driving around Miami on a Saturday evening and, out of the blue, we saw a pig jump out of the back of a truck, get hit by a car and run into the bush aside the road. We, being good, caring people, stop the car, chase the pig down and put it in the back of my Dad’s fancy Cadillac. So now the real question…what do we do with a pig?

After finding the pig medical care, we brought him home and named him Traif. One day my brother decided to feed Traif bacon and, being the little piggy that he was, he ate it. I was appalled, I felt like I would never want Traif to be made into bacon and I extended that emotion to all other animals. I felt  disgust with my brother too — seriously, feeding a pig bacon, ugh!. I had already come to the conclusion that I was better than Seth in my extraordinary compassion, and here was another chance to prove it with my actions — I stopped eating meat that day and began 20 years of being a burden on all the humans who ever wanted to cook for and care for me, starting with my Mom and Dad. Over the years I layered more elaborate moral arguments onto my initial decision.  But at the heart of it, I was a little girl who saw something emotionally shocking and felt like I wanted to do something to help. Only later did I realize that I was mostly  just ‘helping’ myself…

Fast forward to a few years ago. Initially, it was my doctor’s suggestion I start eating meat to deal with some digestive and blood sugar issues I was having. I was so hesitant, I wanted to be a good person and good people are vegetarians. Right? But then again, I also wanted to be a healthy person and in my case, that may mean eating meat. I decided it was time to consider what wrong views may be underlying my diet:

1)   Being a vegetarian can’t make me a good person —  I realized, over time, being a vegetarian was part of a particular identity I had established for myself –“Alana the Good Person”. Even from the get-go, part of my decision to stop eating meat revolved around being better than my brother and being compassionate to animals. The longer I was a vegetarian the more I saw it as an identifying characteristic of myself and as evidence of myself as a good person (and a person who was better and morally superior to others).

As part of my broader practice I started confronting a number of the identities I have created for myself, including the “Alana as a Good Person” one and probing them as to their truth and desirability. So in this case some of the questions were: Is there such a thing as a 100% always good person? Is it an identity I can have? I realized that sometimes I do things I judge as good and other times as bad. So am I a Good Person if my actions are mixed? Moreover the same act that I may judge as good can be judged as bad by others. Also, its situational, sometimes something can be good and other times that same act can be bad.  

I contemplated a number of actions I had assigned as kind and compassionate, not eating meat was one of them.  So,  if not eating meat really is good can it balance out other bad things I do and make me net good as a person? I also thought about situations where eating meat could be good, or at least neutral –what if I was starving? What about not refusing something offered if I worry doing so might cause offense? What about honoring cultural or religious norms of places I visit?

I saw that there is actually no such thing as a good person or a good action all the time—I was striving to be something that doesn’t exist. I also realized that my actions to be a good person were mostly self-serving … Good Person Alana wanted approval from others, wanted to be loved, wanted to be treated with the same “kind compassion” I treated others, including animals, with. Good Person Alana was actually not all that altruistic.  In the process though I was ignoring that there could be actions and identities that are more or less appropriate at certain times. For me I found that sometimes eating meat could be desirable, like when it helps stabilize my blood sugar, or makes it easier on hosts cooking for me. Sometimes it may not be appropriate, like if I developed trouble digesting meat, or if I went to stay in home that had rules that everyone should cook vegetarian food in the kitchen.  Either way, by clearing-up the misconception that being a vegetarian makes me good (or even more profoundly that I can be an absolutely good person), I was able to open myself to making decisions on a case-by-case basis that frankly causes me much less suffering.

2)  The idea that not eating meat was allowing me to assert control over the welfare of animals and over my relationship with animals was completely false:    Even at first blush this is pretty ridiculous. After all, I wasn’t raiding factory farms and freeing the cows. I was just not eating what was already packaged in the store.  Still –in my mind I was super heroically transferring the virtue of my meat abstinence into the living condition of animals –impressively delusional no? I came to realize that this notion was hubris. As was the more subtle lurking idea –I knew what animals deserved and it was my role to somehow interrupt their fate, in whatever way I could, in order to control its outcome. Basically I came to see that this is a pretty deep misunderstanding of karma. In reality I have no idea what got animals, or anyone, into the situation they are in. To believe that blindly, and based on my own poorly informed judgments, I should (even if I could) intervene is ridiculous. I’m not saying its never appropriate to act or intervene –just that I was applying a blanket misunderstanding to create a blanket rule. Intervene, in one particular way, in all cases.

3)   That I could have my cake and eat it too.  I wanted to be a vegetarian even though it was creating health problems for me.  So on one hand, I wanted to be a vegetarian, on the other I wanted to feel good and be healthy. For me, at that time, the two were mutually exclusive and I was suffering for wanting both outcomes when only one seemed possible.   What finally  prompted me to start eating meat again was realizing that I was the one setting-up all the trouble, after all, I was the one creating rules (based on my own wrong views) for a diet that made me feel ill.

I was in Mendicino, a charming seaside town in Northern Cali, and I’m staring out the window of a coffee shop, watching the ocean, impatiently waiting for Eric to get his latte. At first I was mesmerized by the crashing waves, the churning near the rocks, it was so so beautiful. Then suddenly I thought, from here, from this perspective, this viewpoint, it’s all beauty no pain. I don’t notice, don’t think about…the rocks are so sharp, so dangerous, the water so cold, just below the surface are animals that bite, that sting, that cause harm, peril.

How is my own life like this? Where are the places, the things, the relationships in which I only see the surface, the one side, I forget the costs?

The truth is, this brief contemplation was shallow, not full or complete. It was before I really began to see and comprehend the way suffering permeates my life. I  didn’t yet understand how to look at the rupa —  the car, the clothes, my body, my beauty  — and see the dark side. Or my imagination, my aspirations — having that princess charmed life, having that ‘dangerous’ and mysterious lover, having that high powered partner — and seeing the costs. That came later. Much later.

But this Ubai, like the plants, it stayed with me. Gnawed at my mind for years. I share it now, Dear Reader, so you get it in the same course  I did. So that when it comes up again you can trace the timing, you can appreciate how long a seed can stay below the surface. Also, so you know…not every story of mine or thought has a neat conclusion, a short tie-up. But over time my mind has a pattern of coming back to examples, thoughts, themes when I am ready for them to grow.

So I will start by admitting that this short entry is  less of a story or a contemplation and more of a moment —  a brief flash of awareness. It must have been mid 2012. I was at the farmers market with some friends and the day was beautiful, perfect even. I was standing, with a delicious coffee in hand, looking out at a sparkling blue ocean and it hit me. The problem statement. My problem:

1. I don’t really believe that my suffering in this world is greater than my enjoyment — this moment, this place, these folks,  are soo very enjoyable
2. I don’t really think this, this day, this wonderful situation, the warmth, the love from my friends, the sense of belonging and contentment will end. I don’t believe it’s impermanent

By this point I had been practicing dharma a few years, so I knew the drill. Suffering, impermanence, rinse, repeat. But as I stood on that sunny day, surrounded by things I found so pleasurable and enticing and  it dawned on me —  I don’t believe. Not really, not in my heart. That is my problem. 

When I got home that day, I wrote the problem statement on the back cover of my notebook. Not much more I could do in the moment — I  can’t force myself to believe. On some level of course, I had to have had an inkling of how suffering and impermanence were woven into this world –why else walk a path with the ultimate goal of escaping? So, I kept practicing.  I keep gathering evidence, constantly, vigilantly  and slowly but surely I am becoming a believer.

This small story was a big moment; it was when I saw the problem in my own heart, in my own life (instead of it just being what I was told). Over the years, I have turned back to the notebook cover. In fact, when I changed notebooks (3 X already), I tore off the cover and put it in the new one. I use it to remind myself of the problem,  to test my assumptions and to gauge my progress. To check  in my heart how things have changed. Clearly, this blog is about the path to change, the path to believing. Truly seeing the problem, even if it was just a glimpse, a flash, was a pivot point. Its when I started understanding some of the deepest wrong views I am working towards correcting.

I show-up at the Wat one day and LP Anan tells me that he and Mae Yo were talking about me the night before (uh-oh). They noticed that I have a problem (double uh-oh), my driving need to be compassionate (wha wha what how can this be a problem? Snap triple uh-oh), and I should go and solve it (easy as pie right?). So, in sum, my assignment was to notice the way that being a ‘compassionate’ person feeds into many of my stories, my life, and determine the wrong views that drive it and the harm it causes. Here is the contemplation that followed:

Back when I practiced Tibetan Buddhism, I had a favorite deity, Green Tara. Her main characteristic is that, out of compassion, she swiftly helps eliminate the fear of suffering beings. Without getting into a theology class here, you should know that  in Tibetan Buddhism, one of the main points of practice is to embody the qualities and characteristics of the deities you ‘practice’ (i.e. visualize and say mantras about). Upon consideration, it told me a whole lot that, out of all the Tibetan deities (and there are lots), the one I identified with, the one I wanted to ‘become’, was the compassionate fear remover, Green Tara.

I noticed straight off that one of my meta-themes is the idea that there is fearful alana and compassionate alana and the 2 exist at odds with one another (this can be seen in homeless alana story, blog 1). In the ideal world in my head, where I’m not crippled by self-absorbed fear, I am like Tara — my compassion side wins against my fear side and, by definition, my compassion side goes out and acts  to help other people remove their fear (let’s call this self-absorbed ‘compassion’).

Reality check — the ‘ideal world in my head’ is more like a fun house with all those crazy mirrors that warp images. Of course, in this fun house world, compassion goes out and force feeds everyone else my own medicine — no more fear. Since I’m afraid, everyone else must be too so I should go out and solve it (self-important much?).  So what does ‘solving it’ actually look like? What do I do? Mostly, I use the ‘golden rule’ to do to others exactly what I want done to me. So with my friend Sue, since I would want to lose weight, Compassion=a grocery bag full of crunchy compassionate kale. For Shack, the homeless guy, I would want someone to give me a hug so compassion is hugs for the homeless.

Bigger picture, I had a very rigid set of ethics that were informed by my ‘instinct’, i.e.,  I used my superpowers (goddess-like even) to determine what was right and wrong in every situation. As a note, the  wrong view here was exactly the same as with fear –that if I believe something it must be true (with fear it was the belief in the scary things that would happen, with compassion, it was the belief that what I felt was right must be right).

So this begs an interesting question –Why in the heck do I do all of this? I started thinking about my childhood (I now know  that tendencies like this run for many lives, but a single life can provide information, a snapshot, to work with). I’m the oldest of 2 kids. I realize that when it was just me things were going pretty well, then my brother, Seth,  was born and suddenly I have competition for my parent’s attention and love. Seth turned out to be an adorable, charming little devil and I didn’t really stand a chance against him. Except for that he was always causing trouble, being naughty and occasionally shooting pellets at small lizards and snakes. That was it — I could be  more ethical, more compassionate than him –I would save all the lizards, that would get me loved.

In addition, when I was a kid my Mom was sick with chronic illness. She spent a lot of time in bed and we had a number of other caregivers who would come and help-out. It made me feel vulnerable, I never knew exactly what each person wanted, how to please them and avoid punishment, so I was always trying to intuit what was good and bad behavior. I wanted rules and structure, a clear delineation of right and wrong, and I depended on my instincts to help me build them.

Here is the problem though (more wrong views), Can I really be a person with absolute value? Can I be GOOD? Can my value be determined by my behaviors (saving lizards)? By a set of rules that as long as I follow strictly, will make me valuable and therefore safe? Can I be universally worthy of love under any conditions? Can my value in other people’s eyes be based on my definition of  valuable (what if they hate lizards?)? Even if it could, are love and protection constant, based on my value; can I predict when I’ll get them and when I will lose them?

This last question really struck me and I started thinking again about my time practicing Vajrayana. Back then, I had promised my teacher that I wouldn’t quit, I had offered to come and be her student more seriously, to begin to help carry on the traditions of our linage. But then, I turned away from Vajrayana and I couldn’t fulfill my intentions, my promises. I was so afraid to tell her when I had started going to Wat SF. In my own mind, I thought my actions were a betrayal, that I was a promise breaker unworthy of her continued love and support. But when I told her what I had found at the Wat, she was happy for me. She supported me. This was the exact opposite of what I expected –in my mind, which was the real arbitrator of my sense of self value, I was worthless, a disappointment, so how could someone I loved and respected still love and support me? It really started to hit home that the way I saw my value, all wrapped-up in a very fixed set of proscribed actions, and the consequences of having or losing it just wasn’t true. It’s not how the world worked. It wasn’t how things worked with my old teacher at least…

I started considering the dangers of all this craziness and it dawned on me just how difficult and painful it was making my life, just how pained I constantly felt. In my relationship with others, I was constantly thinking I knew what they wanted/needed and was “helping” them accordingly (I’m sure Sue felt deeply helped by all that kale). Also, a natural extension of ‘instinctively’ knowing right and wrong was just how judgey I was —  just that morning I was on the bus giving the death stare (but a compassionate one 😉 ) to a woman taking-up 4 seats. Evil witch broke my moral code…but then, I don’t know her life, her story, her circumstances and besides, can I say I have never taken-up multiple bus seats myself? Can I say everyone needs to follow Alana’s Bus Etiquette (there is much much more on this topic to come)?   In my relationship with myself, I felt constantly inadequate, I derived my value based on a proscribed set of actions /ideals that I could never meet since I change, circumstances change, everything changes… And finally, I was living in fear of my own high and mighty moral code. Afraid that if I deviated from it, if I let go of being ‘ compassionate’, I would lose my way, err horribly, do unforgivable things and never become a person worthy of my own (and other’s) love and protection. Believe me when I say the road to hell, or at least endless rebirth, can  really be paved with good intentions and deeply wrong views.

In this next section I’ll share a few more stories from the “early days”(up till around June 2013). Some of these precede the Killing the Crazy story, but cover topics aside from paranoia, many are from the months shortly following that story (which occurred late 2012 or early 2013). The main point here is that as my anxiety levels began to diminish, I was able to ‘work the program’ and consider a broader array of topics through the lenses of impermanence and suffering.   These stories are still mostly born from contemplation on obvious problems, pains and slights — I like to think of them as using Dharma to triage a situation. They continued to build my understanding of control, impermanence and, to a lesser degree, suffering.

In this section I will also try to introduce a few additional tools and techniques that have served me well over the course of my practice. Though this is by no means everything, you will see many of these particular techniques repeated frequently in my stories; here I will try to highlight them and describe them a bit so that as we proceed you will have a sense of some of the tools I have used to learn to guide and structure my thinking.