Alana's Dharma Blog

A dear friend from college, we’ll call her Candy, came for a few days to visit. Candy and I are extremely close, I love her like a sister, but sometimes we can fight like sisters too…when I look back at the visit I realize, I had prepared myself for a knockout prize fight from the moment she stepped out of the Uber and onto my front curb. You see Candy, despite having many redeeming qualities as a friend, can be pretty demanding and difficult. I felt like I was always trying to accommodate her and meet her needs but nothing I did was good enough… ultimately feelings would get hurt, harsh words exchanged and we would each return home frustrated and angry…

Candy was hungry after her flight, so I took her to my favorite neighborhood restaurant for a bite. The waiter came over to take our order, this was the scene:

Candy, “So I see you have a salad bar, but I’m not really that hungry and $14 seems expensive, can I pay you $7 and then eat only half of what I would normally eat?”

Waiter,” Um..that’s not really how it works, the salad bar is a fixed price no matter how much, or how little you eat. “

Candy: “Well then, I’ll just take an order of french fries, can I get those not fried?”

Waiter: “You mean plain potatoes?”

Candy: “No no, I like the crispness and the shape of french fries, I just don’t want all that oil and grease. Can you just cut up potatoes into strips and like bake them or something?”

At this point the waiter was looking at me with the most sad and pleading eyes, but all I could do was shrug my shoulders. In that moment I saw the truth…for years whenever Candy was difficult with me, I thought it was my fault, I thought it was an attack on me that required some rebuttal or defense, or that it was a reflection of how much she loved and valued me. When I saw her with the waiter I finally understood — this is just the type of person Candy is. Whether I am there or not, whether I am involved or not, whether I talk back or fight back or cower like a wounded animal,  this is how she acts. No way can I change Candy, and the truth is, none of this is about me, none of it has anything to do with me.  

We head from dinner to the bowling alley/ arcade where we were going to shoot a few rounds of pool.  While we were waiting for a table to open up, Candy walked over to the bowling section, picked-up a ball and was about to start bowling on an open lane when a staff member came over and explained she couldn’t just start to bowl, the lane had been reserved by a group that hadn’t yet arrived.

Candy: “its totally cool, I just want to bowl like 1 or 2 rounds…I’ll finish-up before the group arrives”

Staff Person: “That’s not how it works, we charge by the game. If you would like to go and put your name on the lane waiting list I can show you where to do that”

Candy: No no, don’t stress, it’ll just be a minute. Plus, how will I know if I want to bowl a whole game if I can’t try-out a few rounds. And the lane is open anyway”

Back and forth, back and forth, Candy and the staff member go … and I feel my blood starting to boil. Why can’t Candy just follow the rules? Why does she always act like this? Then, it hit me — how terrible were Candy’s actions really? Did they deserve the response of epic anger on my part? What if someone besides Candy was doing this, would I be so upset? If I saw it on TV, I might think it was funny. If it was a different friend, I might think it was bold. If it were a kid, I might think it was cute. If a random stranger did it I might be moderately annoyed, I might look at them all judgey, but I wouldn’t be filled with this kind of rage. But again, I still think this is about me, that it reflects on me (that the whole room is looking on and knows she is my friend, I brought her here, I ruined the fun and games), that it speaks to who I am as a person, what friends I choose to keep.

As I contemplated this my anger began to fade. I realized that it was my interpretation of my friend’s actions that were generating my negative emotions — my anger was entirely self created. Moreover, I saw that I already have so much narrative around who Candy is and how I should respond to her that I almost default to anger and annoyance whenever I see her, no matter what her actions are (seriously, she could be bottle feeding rescue kittens and I would  find some way to feel offended — just forcing those helpless kittens to eat her food). I saw how my pattern of  conditioned responses to Candy was keeping us in a cycle of fighting. So while Candy’s actions and personality weren’t on me, this anger, this cycle were, they were entirely my fault. After this incident, I began catching myself whenever I went into default anger mode. I began seeing the causes of my anger instead of just lashing-out.

This ended up being a critical story in my Dharma practice and my personal growth –I owe Candy a great deal of thanks. Here is where I started to learn to discern what stuff was on me to address and fix (i.e. my personality traits, my wrong views) and what was not about me at all, what was beyond my control (other people’s personality and views). Moreover, I saw it was all my imagination, my wrong perceptions that fueled my confusion, before this story,  I pretty much had it entirely backwards: I believed, Candy’s personality/actions were about me (and something I could fix), but my anger and my response, that was her fault –after all who wouldn’t get frustrated with Candy?

Warning: another blogger’s late addition prerogative is coming here —  When I think about my practice, what it has given me, I think about it a lot in terms of freedom. I want to be free, I think most of us do, but wrong views are actually a trap, a shackle.  Before with Candy, I was stuck in a cycle, she would do something, I would get angry, we would fight. Or I would do something, she would get angry and I would need to fight back. Either way..it was like a movie on a loop with no end..it was the complete opposite of freedom.  

Now, I have choices. Candy (or anyone else) can do something and I can respond, or not respond, as is appropriate to the situation –not just based on the same old script (which was fueled by my anger and hurt and wrong views). Moreover, by not making everything other people say and do about me, I can observe patterns in their actions and behaviors with greater clarity. I can actually fulfill my roles and responsibilities better,  prepare for when I interact with them more. I can make smarter real-life decisions, about what to say and do that are actually a response to others, not just to my beliefs about them, that are really my beliefs about me, projected outwardly onto them (you can look at hugs for the homeless in the first blog entry  for an example of this).  With these new options, finally come greater degrees of freedom.

Eric and I were in Hawaii and, me being a sucker for all things touristy and kitschy, got sold on tickets to a submarine ride. We took our seats on board and the boat began to descend. Down and down we went into a world that looks so different than what I’m used to. I peeled my eyes away from the window for just a sec and I noticed that my very bright neon green bag was changing colors.

This bag was green, I mean really green. Bright enough to make your eyes sore green. Flashy enough to announce to the whole world that I was coming from a mile away green. But here, on the submarine it was turning yellowish-puke-brown. Fortunately for this fashionista, light wave refraction did not fail, and as we surfaced an hour later,  I watched my bag change back from brown to puke to lime to that neon green I had paid so much to enjoy.

Clearly, colors appear differently at deeper depths of water, this is not a magical mystery, there is a perfectly good scientific explination. But later, when I was reflecting on my bag going hyper color on me, I realized I really believed the bag was green, that was its color, it had a natural and true (permanent) green state. But by changing colors under water my bag gave me the very first glimpse I had of an important reality — greeness, or any quality for that matter, is dependent on the circumstances. Both the circumstances of the object and, even more importantly from a Dharma perspective, the circumstances of the viewer (a certain me-monster in this case).

At the time, this was a quick contemplation, and ah that’s nice moment. Later, when we hit the Big Buddhisty Topic of the 8 Worldly Conditions,  this idea will return again in a much more impactful way. For now let’s leave it with the eerie feeling I got on that submarine, that I haven’t really been able to shake since, that the  world may not be exactly as it seems/ as I believe it to be.   

 

It was at the end of the 2012 (I think) retreat and the teachers were taking suggestions/ feedback on the retreat from the participants. I raised my hand, “I think it would be good if LP Nut (one of the teachers) led some of the English discussion groups/activities. I always get so much out of his teachings” LP Nut takes the microphone, thanks me, and then calls me out, “just remember Alana you can learn Thai too.”

OK, I hear you, I hear you LP Nut: So I enroll in a once a week Thai class at the temple. But honestly, I half assed it, minimal study, last minute homework. I heard you L.P. Nut, but not really…

Over time though, LP.’s words really started to echo in my head. I heard not just, “you, Alana, have the capability to learn Thai”. But, “you Alana are not the immutable force in the world to which all things and people must bend, adjust.” The language you speak is not a universal norm (duh, you belong to a Thai community), your terms are not those of the world, they are in fact quite irrelevant.”

A year and a half late (it was Thai time after all ;)), I enrolled in a 3 hour a week intensive Thai class and began to study an additional 10 hours on top. I put the petal to the metal and I pushed, I learned.

I pushed because I really do want to understand LP Nut and all of my teachers. I don’t want to miss the important details during late night discussions when everyone is too tired to translate. I don’t want language to limit my choice of dharma friends. I don’t want to feel like an outsider in my own community. So I study, for me.

I want to be clear, I’m not saying every non-Thai speaker must go out and learn Thai. Or that the Temple is inaccessable to folks who don’t speak Thai. Or that the community is closed and unaccepting. Not at all! But, for me, in my life, I came to see language as a barrier. A barrier I had no way of surmounting as long as I waited around and expected people to adjust to me, to my terms. If I wanted to feel included and get all the info, something had to give. Finally, a year and a half late, I realized that something could be me.

 

The buses in SF suck! They are dirty, overcrowded, slow and filled with all kinds of ‘colorful’ and delicious smelling characters. So  when, I could finally afford to drive to work everyday (and pay for parking) instead of having to take the bus, I felt like I had ‘made-it’. Sweet!

Then one day, my husband needed the car and it was back to the bus for me. I got on and it was worse than I remembered — all pushing and shoving, stinky too.  I felt so put-out, angry at Eric for needing the car, annoyed with the folks around me for their coughing and sneezing, their pushing and invasion of “my space”. I was  disgusted at needing to be on the bus. I searched my heart for the feeling and I realized — I was indignant.  I looked around at my fellow passengers and I thought, “I’m better than this, I am better than having to take the bus.”

Then I thought, whoo wait a sec. How can I be better than taking the bus when I am sitting on it? Can I possibly be better than something I am actually doing right now? Am I better than the other folks on the bus? Better than the situation? What does better than this even mean?

Sure I didn’t really like taking the bus when I had to before, but I had never felt like this about it. But, now, I looked around and thought, the bus is for those poor masses, lowly folks. That is the identity of the bus — that is its nature, its character, its permanent state.   I however had become a driver. I was someone that didn’t have to take the bus anymore. I had established that as a fact,  a permanent identity, a permanent state (wrong views of permanence).

Suddenly, I flashed to an image of my father when he was dying. He was so ill he couldn’t leave the bed to go to the bathroom. He had to pee in a cup as I was watching. I had to help. The memory is seared in my mind. I felt it was indignant, a loss of dignity, that my father who had once been so strong was now so weak, that he couldn’t even control his own body. That I had to lose my vision of my father as the healthy, independent person he had been as long as I had known him.

Here it was, the source of my indignity on the bus — losing something I once had, wanted to keep,  had believed was  mine for good.  Losing my status as a driver. In just one day, I lost the illusion that I had ‘made-it’, after all, one early meeting in my husband’s office was enough to send me right back to the bus.

And I felt resentful of the other passengers for making me feel this way, for making me afraid I would catch their colds, for feeling claustrophobic, and jostled and having my space invaded. But really, did these other folks cause their illnesses, or create the rush  hour crush, did they make bumpy road conditions and narrow buses? Can I really resent them?

Can I really resent other people when I am the sole cause of my discomfort? A bus is a mode of transport that goes from point A to point B. Everyone on it is the same, passengers, trying to get from point A to point B. But I created a nonsense story, a special meaning, an identity for the bus and the riders and myself as a driver. I pretended it was real, that it existed permanently. But things change, circumstances change, people lose all the time, my dad did and so do I. Who else can I blame for spinning a fiction, getting excited about it, and then being disappointed when it’s revealed as the fiction I always, on some level, knew it was?   

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I’ll make one final, later addition comment on this story, because it offers a very clear example of how we create identity with Rupa, physical objects. The bus, it meant something to me because of its physical trappings — it was crowded, dirty, filled with folks of different stripes. It’s a form, an environment, that made me feel out of control, exposed to disease, ordinary  (as opposed to wealthy). Where as my own car, that made me feel in control, clean, safe and rich. It was mine afterall.  I used these forms like facts that supported my idea about what buses are and what my car was and what I was when I started driving.

The truth is, I get on the bus and in my own car dirty and sick all the time. I am no safer, less prone to accident in my own car or on a bus, accidents can happen anywhere. In some ways I am in more control in my car; I don’t have to share, make random stops, stay on a “line”. But in others I am in less control; I have to drive, I can’t use the bus lane so there is more traffic, I have to worry about finding parking. Nowadays, I rarely drive anymore. I like to walk. I keep a bus pass in my purse too. When I have walked for miles, and my feet hurt, I see an approaching  bus as a comfort, a respite, a way home without needing to take another step.  

The stories I tell, using the ‘facts’ of rupa, they aren’t even true. The meaning, the identity, it’s not in the bus or the car (or even in me), it’s in my heart as the storyteller.  And even that changes, with my own needs, my priorities, my beliefs and my aching feet.

 

Once upon a time, long long ago… LP Anan gave some homework: “Tell an old story again. Tell a story in which you usually speak as the victim , as the person in the right, again. This time, tell the story as the villain, as the person who was wrong.” Here is that home work:

Back when I was in undergrad I had a pretty serious boyfriend, we’ll call him Chris. Chris was super-smart, academically ambitious and always up for a new adventure–these were qualities I really liked in him, some of the reasons I started dating him in the first place. Now that I look back at it, I guess it shouldn’t have surprised me that when he got accepted to Oxford as a transfer student he jumped at the opportunity to go — and to leave me behind.

It wasn’t just the distance that caused the end of our relationship, it was my anger and pain that Chris chose his schooling and career over staying with me. I told him ahead of time that he had to choose — me or Oxford — I was so hurt and surprised that he chose school

For years I felt like I was the slighted ex-girlfriend, the victim. Now however I see a different side of the story– I see how I was wrong:

1) I set the conditions — I wanted a partner who was ambitious, smart, well traveled and open to new experiences. It was those very qualities that helped enable Chris to get into Oxford and make him want to go.  I liked all of these aspects of his personality when they were ‘for me’ (i.e. defined me as that awesome persons’ girlfriend  or when I could enjoy his wit, or help with homework) but as soon as they were ‘against me’ I was upset. I see now that if I wanted to enjoy what I saw as the good aspects of Chris’ personality/ability I had to be able, willing, even expect the bad side too. Not to mention the good-side/ bad side is totally subjective. Chris’ new wife may consider him and I breaking-up as a good side after all. Now, years later..so do I.

2)I had crazy double standards (another aspect of setting conditions) — I was so hurt that Chris did not put me ahead of his education, that I wasn’t the priority in his life. It’s worth noting that I had a choice, I could have quit school and moved to Oxford to be near Chris. So, by the same standard I held him to, he wasn’t a priority in my life either. When I really internalize, I see that I did the exact same thing as Chris, but I wanted him to treat me differently than I treated him.  

3) I missed the impermanence in the situation — I created all sorts of very permanent situations in my head at the time that simple were not true. I believed that if Chris’ priority was Oxford it would always be Oxford. In reality, priorities change constantly. I felt that by going to Oxford it definitely meant that it was his priority over me, in reality there could be reasons that he chose to go to Oxford because he thought it would be best for me and our relationship (like getting a better paying job). I also felt that a ‘good relationship’ is one where partners prioritize each other (see irony from number 2), I failed to realize that there are many types of relationships that can work for different couples across different times.

4) I should have been softer/yielded more (or I should have looked more carefully at the suffering of the situation)–  Ok, this one is a bit less precise, but let me try. During the whole break-up I was so harsh. I need to be ‘right’ and I need to be important. I swung around ultimatums and harsh words. I guess now, as I look back, I just feel like the harshness wasn’t worth it (See my earlier blog on yielding and the bee). Even if it was time for the relationship to end, it didn’t have to end in such a forceful way. Perhaps it wouldn’t have ended at all if I had been softer and allowed for the idea that I could be number 2 priority; either way a crazy fit of pain and range and bad speak and actions did not need to ensure.  I just feel like I created more suffering (for myself and him and our friends) than less all because of this sense of needing to be something or someway.

 

There was a little market down the block from my house that had struggled for years. It was such an eyesore, attracted unsavory characters, the whole neighborhood was waiting, hoping, it would shut down. That something fun and chic would open in its place and increase all of our property values. I walked by the market, looked-in and saw the owner arranging his empty shelves, trying his best to make the store look fuller, nicer, stocked. That’s when I realized — If I got my wish and the store closed down, the owner would lose his livelihood, the income he uses to support himself and his family.

I was worse than being someone who doesn’t care about the struggles of the shop owner,  I was someone who didn’t even notice them. How could I? All I saw was my perspective, I was blind to  anything outside of it. The truth is that everything in this world has two sides. We however are used to only seeing one side –our own, the one we believe, the one which benefits us. This is not to say every situation is an us versus them, an I’m happy and you’re sad. But in this period of my practice I did start seeing that my perspective, my beliefs, they weren’t universal, they weren’t the end-all-be-all. There are other angles, other perspectives.
Over time this understanding has become second nature. I find myself constantly looking at situations from other people’s perspectives;  almost as quickly as I begin to formulate my own case in an argument, I start balancing that, hedging it, trying to see the other side. This has been one of the insights that has softened me the most, begun to chip away at the greatness of ME. Ironically, I am someone that put such a premium on being ‘compassionate’… what hope did I have of getting there when all I could see was myself?

The Prelude: In general, my practice is to sorta put one foot in front of the other and trudge along my path. But, I have found that sometimes it helps to look-up and look around. To reflect on the distance I have come and to make sure I’m still headed along the right path.  The look back — the wohhh something has actually changed in my heart (and much later in my practice  I started noticing change in my relationships, behaviors, etc.) moment — is so awesomely motivating (albeit sometimes kinda humbling). After all, why bother with a practice that doesn’t help change me, that doesn’t move me along to where I want to be?

As far as looking to make sure I  haven’t wandered from the trail, well that was actually one of my greatest fears in the early years of my practice (I have since come to notice my own internal compass and come to trust it).  I have asked Mae Yo the same question about it like 1,000 times — how will I know if my practice goes off the rails? Goes totally south? Gets sooo off track I’m screwed forever? (My favorite version of this question, “is it like a videogame where you need to hit certain save points, like the flag in Mario 1, or all your progress is lost?” Answer FYI –no Alana, you keep your progress even if you don’t get the flag. Wisdom apparently has more staying power than Mr. Mario).

Of the many answers she has given me, two have really stuck. 1) You will know, just like you knew that your viewpoints in the past were wrong and caused you suffering, and how you know now that your viewpoints are right and balanced. 2) Lessing ego is a sign of correct practice (years latter and many blogs from now, was an aha moment of just why this one is true…but for a while I just took Mae Yo’s word for it).

To some degree, this sort of reflection is a bit automatic. Fast thoughts that check-in or note differences with how I saw things in the past to now, or to see if the same wrong-views re-arise in similar situations. Once in awhile however I do a full halt to really consider. The entry that follows, is one such ‘halt’ and occurred shortly after the story from the last blog, Judge this you Crazy Witch (July 2013). In my notebook it was titled “Something’s Changed: How I Feel Now”  and I will just go ahead and rewrite it here. Do note, that though I feel a bit discouraged by my past behaviors in the entry, the clarity and change was something I found heartening. Also note, the natural (tiny little) decrease in ego that this entry implies. Without further ado….

The Entry:

I have been suspecting something changed after I started seeing the way that I set conditions (the sponge, the kale), the way I seed this life and then suffer because of it.   

How I feel now:

1. Disillusioned: I feel a little more disillusioned with life.I see more clearly the suffering built into the fabric of life. I want out with greater resolve. I see even the things I want or like are tinged with suffering or its potential. My stuffed closet makes it hard to find something to wear in the morning. Travel plans bring stress, or $ concern, or friction between Eric and I to make decisions.
2. Less Picky: I’m starting to feel a little less diehard about particular decision/preferences. If Eric wants a particular trip, restaurant, thing, fine. It’s not like I have no preferences, but I feel a little less rigid. These conditions, they make things so hard. Why have I been so darn picky?
3. Less annoyed:  Noises, family, panhandlers feel a little less irritating to me. When I do get annoyed, like when someone cuts me off in traffic, I can catch it more quickly. I have learned to actively seek out the wrong views. To instinctively ask if this thing is about me? Needs to involve me? Needs to draw me in?
4. Sheepish:  I have been so judgemental…I am embarrassed. It’s ridiculous the way I have applied my own, arbitrary, and often not even doable by myself, standards to others. I don’t even tell them about these standards, I don’t give them a chance to live up to them or fail. I just snap judge. I am so harsh.
5. Clarity: I feel like I have peaked inside the watch casing a bit. Like I am starting to see how gears move. I used to aspire for the wisdom to see right view from wrong and the forbearance to choose right action (later note: I always wanted to be a good Alana, act like a good Alana). Now though, I’m starting to suspect it’s not about forbearance, or will. With a right view as the base, right action can come. With a wrong view, what hope do I have for my actions…I have been foolish.  All the conditions we create, all the identities, relationships, judgements, it’s all so fragile…

One day I drive by my friend Sandy’s favorite shop and I get to thinking about her. Specifically how much she annoys me. Often. Alot. Then I realize I’m in the car alone, Sandy is no where near by, we haven’t even talked in a few weeks…In other words, there is only one place all this venom can be coming from and it’s not from Sandy, it’s from me.

So why, why , why is it that Sandy gets on my nerves so much? It hits me like a ton of bricks –Sandy is completely ‘out of control’. She doesn’t take birth control, even though she doesn’t want kids, leaving pregnancy to chance. She says she will do well in school but starts doing poorly one semester in. She has never had a ‘real’ job.She can’t even control staying awake when she comes to hang-out at our house. She mooches, not taking responsibility for being financially in control. Worst of all, despite being totally out of control, she always lands on her feet.

For me, self control isn’t just a critical part of my identity, it’s a moral virtue. I was someone who worked-out 3X a day to control my body, I kept meticulous spreadsheets and budgets to control our finances, I maxed-out my retirement account at my first job even though I could barely afford my rent, I was thinking about padding university applications before I even wore a bra (padded or otherwise)… I lived and breathed a constant, painful, fight for control. Clearly, I could not just give Sandy a pass.  I had to see ‘out of control’ Sandy as a failure, as a terrible person in order to be a contrast to my own buttoned-up awesomeness; to do otherwise would undermine my sense of value, my sense of self.  

The even bigger problem is, Sandy challenges my sense of order in the universe, undermines my sense of safety and justness. It’s not like I worked so hard to control because it was fun, easy, rewarding. I did it because somewhere in my brain I believed that control was an antidote to impermanence. That if I just managed my body, managed my money, managed my education, I would be safe, I would have certainty, I would be prepared. But Sandy keeps being OK. Everytime she doesn’t get pregnant, everytime she ‘finds’ money, passes a class without studying, I feel a stabbing sense of injustice,  because my version of cause and effect (control=safe and happy outcomes) is fair and Sandy, well that whole thing just isn’t right!!!

When I look back at this story, I see how many wrong views there were about Karma, cause and effect, but those contemplations did not come until a bit later. Here though, what I saw is its me, my definition of virtue that drives my annoyance at Sandy. It’s my need to reinforce my own sense of self and sense of order, my own wrong views, that force me to be so critical of Sandy. So Sandy is back on the scene, only not really, since I was alone, in my car, creating all that pain by myself. The most ironic part of the story though is this, if control is such a virtue and I had already begun to see the limitations of my own control, what kind of terrible failure was I? Forget Sandy, by my own definition, I’m the real villain in this story.

I was walking around the farmer’s market and saw a bundle of kale that looked delicious; crispy and green, my mouth was watering as I imagined a crunchy salad for dinner. The problem, I had no cash.  

I went back inside and got in the painfully long line for the ATM.  5 minutes goes by and I have barely moved an inch, 10 minutes, 15 minutes and now, I have to pee so bad, but I can’t lose my spot in line. I’m shifting my weight, trying to avoid doing the all-out pee dance in public and I realized — If I want the kale I need to accept the ATM line that goes with it. A few inches forward…if I want to live in San Fran, I have to stomach  the crowds that come with it. Nearing the machine…if I want to keep my job I have to tolerate the late night concerts that come with it. One more person ahead of me…if I like the money that comes with my husband’s high paying job, I have to bear his crazy hours.  It’s finally my turn… because I’m enamored with this world, with this life, with being born, I have to endure all the aging, sickness, disappointment, loss and death that come along with it.

The things I like, I want, so often come with parts I don’t want (always actually, but it took longer to realize that) –its beyond my control that the two sides are woven together. Its like a red and blue carpet, only I don’t like the blue part. The problem is, if I start pulling out the blue threads the whole thing comes undone, its just not a carpet anymore. I never liked looking at the downsides of my desires, but whether or not I acknowledge them, they are there. Its part of the contract I sign to get something, the consequences are built into the terms.

This very short contemplation turned out to be pivotal for several reasons:

1. It was the beginning of being able to see the costs of my desires. Without seeing the costs it’s impossible to ask the question —  is it worth it?   
2. I saw clearly that ultimately the downsides,  disappointments and sufferings of my life are not caused by other people, they are part of the contract I signed, they arise based on my wants,  decisions, and  beliefs (wrong views). Sure, I could blame the kale seller for charging too much, the other folks in the ATM line for being too slow, the coffee shop for making my coffee so strong I needed to pee…but in the end, who wants the kale (me)? In other terms, I  bought the carpet, I have to accept the red and blue, the colors come together after all and it’s the mix of threads that make-up a carpet.
3. Looking at the suffering, the things I don’t want which attach themselves to the things I do, (costly kale, long atm lines, crowds and late nights at work) proves my lack of control. If I had control, I would have been given free kale, or at least had no atm line, or a speedy line, or not needed to pee while in line, but I was powerless in each of these regards.

Control is the thing I keep hoping will keep me safe from suffering, but my own suffering proves my lack of control. In other words: Before I had believed that because I don’t control I suffer. My persistent belief is that this will somehow get better, that with some effort I can tweak-it and “win”. But this  belies my actual experiences in everyday life.

In the end, I did get my Kale and ate a yummy salad. Its so easy after that to forget the long line, the frustrated waiting, the painfully full bladder. But they were all real and after this contemplation, ignoring, forgetting, blaming others for the costs became much much harder.

It was the 2013 KPY retreat and LP Nut was leading some students through the forest on a hike/contemplation exercise.  Suddenly we came to a nice open patch, just in front of a Kulti (a small hut), and there on the ground was a sponge. The piece of trash was such a stark contrast to the beautiful pristine forest and immediately, in my mind, I hear my most  judgy voice saying, “What kind of an A****** would throw a sponge on the ground  in this beautiful unspoiled forest.”  Then I looked-up at the little hut in front of me and thought, if I had hiked all the way out here to clean this hut, and found I had forgotten my sponge, I would have thought,”what kind of an angel left me a sponge and spared me the hike all the way back-up to the main building to get one.“

In that moment I finally understood one of the most critical truths of my life: I am the judge, I am the one that sets conditions and defines the terms under which I will be satisfied with any particular person, thing or situation. And my terms, my judgements, they change, largely based on me, on what I want. The idea that there is some universal truth, some great moral compass, that underlies and dictates my judgements is a lie. It’s just me, that voice in my head,calling out A******* or Angel based on my interpretations and needs.

LP Anan had once given such a great example of setting conditions, but I really hadn’t understood it fully till this moment in the woods. He said, it was like being outside on a hot day and wanting an ice cold glass of water, but not wanting any wet condensation on the outside of the glass. But this is impossible, condensation is a result of outside heat meeting with the ice water on the inside of the glass. Still we set these conditions, I only want X and Y is totally unacceptable, or  I want X but only if Y, or I want X when its sunny and Y when it rains. We dictate the terms under which something is acceptable, desirable, and then we pretend they are real, fixed and that the world will simply abide by them.

I started seeing all the places in my life I set conditions: I want my husband to cook for me when I’m hungry, but when I’m not I wish he  wouldn’t so I didn’t need to eat it to be polite (I also wish he could just read my mind and know what I want to eat–what kind of man did I marry that lacks even the simplest mind reading abilities?). I want to chat with my co-workers and waste a little time, except when I’m busy and I wish they would just leave me alone. I want to live in a big city with lots to do, if only there weren’t so many people. I’m happy when it’s warm outside, somewhere between 75 and 85 degrees….

It was a little later in my practice that I really began to see that in setting these conditions I create not only the terms of my satisfaction, but, by definition I also set the terms of my dissatisfaction. In so doing, I am the one who lays the groundwork for my own suffering. I also came to see that the conditions I set were based on 2  deeply wrong views: 1) that I could control circumstances/events  in order to get the outcome that met my conditions or 2) that the world would operate as I expected it to (expectations built off of my prior experiences) so the conditions I set were likely to be met. But back in the early days after my forest sponge encounter the thing that I finally understood, the big pivot point for my practice, was that I play a starring role. Before, I kept thinking stuff is happening to me. I looked around the world and saw instances of impermanence, how my own views were misaligned with it, but I thought I was just getting really great seats for the show. There in the forest I started to see that my handwriting was all over the script.

This next section marks an important shift in my practice and my perspective as I began to zoom-in on the role I play in creating my own suffering. Sure, before this I had an intellectual understanding that I had wrong views, that I was the source of those views. That is, after all, the only rational explanation for all the problems I had managed to solve. Nonetheless, I sorta viewed myself as a victim in my own stories and struggles. Like suffering was something that happened to me and I was stuck cleaning-up the mess. After the first story in this next section it became increasingly clear that I am the one running around stirring my own pot, making my own messes, seeding my own suffering. Oh, and in the process, I am messing with everyone else too…poke poke goes the little ME monster.