Mixed Nuts

Apr. 1st, 2010 10:48 am

Somewhere in my travels I came across this contrarian secret about Buddhist teacher interviews: if you express anxiety or confusion at an interview, the teacher’s job is to reassure you and give you confidence; whereas if you show up confident and in control, their job is to present you with deeper or more difficult challenges, to spur you to undertake greater effort.

The latter was my experience in a recent interview I had with Michael, one of the teachers at CIMC. I began by telling him that I was fairly satisfied with my life and that when I meditate, no pressing issues seem to come up for me.

I told him that in general I am on top of things, using my planning and organizational strengths to mitigate the risk involved in anything I commit to or undertake. When that happens, he suggested that I examine the energy level and the motive behind the actions I am taking, because sometimes that impulse to have everything under control is driven by fear or anxiety, rather than wisdom.

He then asked whether I had any suffering in my life or any deeply buried insecurities or fears. While my life is generally quite good, of course even I have a couple things I keep way down in the murky depths. Without getting all personal about my own particular demons, it’s important to be able to allow those feelings to reveal themselves, rather than to instinctively suppress them, so that one can then make choices and act out of wisdom rather than reactiveness.

So I left that interview with a bit more anxiety, and more of a sense that I need to do a better job admitting and facing the things I fear, rather than burying them. Joy.

Later that week we held another dharma movie night. I had proposed the animated film “Waking Life”, which is stuffed with philosophical meanderings. Even though it’s mostly a bunch of talking heads, and not everyone is as fascinated by philosophy as I am, I expected people to find it thought-provoking. I might have even hoped it would receive as positive a response as my book club selection had.

But before the movie began, we got into a discussion of our next book club selection: Mark Epstein’s “Open to Desire: The Truth About What the Buddha Taught”. When I was asked my opinion, I was honest: I think the book is logically flawed, ridiculously deluded, and dangerously misleading. On the other hand, a couple people enthusiastically loved it, and wanted me to explain why I disagreed with it. As the only person to openly criticize the book, I was on the defensive, and at a disadvantage because it had been a month and a half since I’d read it, and I didn’t have my notes to refer to. So that unexpected discussion left me feeling a bit singled out.

Then we started the movie, which got a predominantly negative reception. In fact, about a third of the way in, four people (out of nine) got up and walked out of the room, spending the rest of the evening outside on the patio rather than watching the rest of the movie. While I have no problem allowing people to make their own decisions, and I know that disliking the movie isn’t the same as disliking me as a person, I still had some emotional turmoil to work through as a result of their surprisingly blunt rejection of something that has a lot of personal and philosophical meaning to me.

In between those two events, CIMC had a dharma talk by Winnie Nazarko that related to creativity. While the talk didn’t touch any nerves for me, one point she made has stayed with me. In general, people engage in a meditative practice because they’re looking for something, whether it’s the answer to a personal dilemma or relief from generalized existential angst. Winnie emphasized the importance of knowing what your overriding question is, so that you can judge whether or not you’re on the path toward an answer.

When I considered that question for myself, two responses came immediately to mind. The first is my familiar refrain of how to live my life such that I will have no regrets on my deathbed, as I discussed here. The other is to learn how to make decisions which are more consistent with my deeper sense of personal ethics and reflect the person I aspire to be and the kind of world I want to manifest. I think it’s a positive sign that those answers came so easily to me, because it shows that I have a clear understanding of why I practice and what I hope to achieve.

And last night at CIMC Maddy held a dharma talk on generosity, and how it is the basis of practice. As we age, we have to let go of everything we have—our possessions, our relationships, our health, and eventually our lives—and the essence of the spiritual path is learning how to be at peace with that process so that we can both live and die with grace and fulfillment.

If that is so, then acts of generosity are a good way to see if we can let go of our possessions, and what it feels like to do so. By exercising our ability to see beyond our attachment to material possessions, we are practicing and becoming more familiar with the kind of letting go that we must all eventually become accustomed to facing.

On top of that, generosity is a truly ennobling act that is a demonstration that one cares about others’ suffering. And it provides fulfillment beforehand (in contemplating giving), during (in the act of giving), and afterward (in the memory of having given). There aren’t many actions one can take that are so pure and have so many positive effects, both for others as well as for oneself.

A couple weeks ago I discovered a Buddhist book club being run by the owner of Trident Booksellers. I promptly snatched the current book from the BPL and read through it. I took a few notes to bring to the discussion, and I thought I’d post them here, as well. So here’s my notes on Pema Chödrön’s “Start Where You Are: A Guide to Compassionate Living”.

This was the first Chödrön book I’ve read, and I can’t say it lived up to her popularity. Her writing style didn’t come across as particularly noteworthy, and what she had to say… Well, the book is focused mostly on particular practices—tonglen and lojong—which might be useful to some, but which would raise a bunch of questions for beginners. So I found the book overall of limited value. Despite that, there were a few interesting things I could pick and choose from.

One thought pertained to the defensive barriers that we establish around ourselves. Those mental and emotional barriers keep our tender bits safe, but they also distance us and alienate us from other people, as well. But the thing Pema wrote that I found interesting was that this armor we surround ourselves with, which seems so solid, so trustworthy, is really just made of thoughts that we churn out. There’s nothing to them but what we think they are. I know, it’s one of those things that is kind of patently obvious, but it’s also something that we tend to forget on a daily basis.

The next point follows a similar vein. All your past: it’s just an idea. It has no real existence. Worse yet, it’s an idea that only you hold. For example, no one I know remembers the Jimmy Castor Bunch, or their 1974 album “Butt of Course”, featuring the “Bertha Butt Boogie”. Even people who shared your life with you—your first girl- or boyfriend—have a completely different image of that “shared” past than you. You think the past is a fixed thing that defines you, but ultimately it’s just a series of ideas that absolutely nobody but you holds. So is it really all that important?

Pema also stated one of the major themes of Buddhism fairly succinctly. I’ll paraphrase it here, but the basic idea is that helping others is one of the most effective methods of self-improvement, while improving yourself simultaneously helps others. It’s kind of a feedback loop of sorts, where helping others—something that’s all but forgotten in our competitive, acquisitive society—helps ourselves much more than our secular selfishness ever could.

Buddhism encourages its adherents to give of what they have to others, in part to reduce one’s attachment to material things. Even in western cultures we think of sharing as a good thing; however, Pema suggests we go further, being willing to give away things we might really value that would make others’ lives happier. While we can all relate to sharing, giving valued things away is much more difficult because it challenges our ideas of security and possession and attachment. If you’re serious about losing your attachment to material goods, you might well consider practicing this kind of “giving until it hurts”. According to Pema, it won’t actually hurt, but give you an enduring sense of happiness.

The lojong practice includes a number of pithy sayings that one is meant to contemplate. The one that seemed most interesting to me instructs you to “Always meditate on whatever provokes resentment”. That’s a very interesting instruction, because it asks us to step back whenever we feel hatred, anger, jealousy, or fear and analyze the origins of those feelings. Its at those points when we can work with the root causes of careless speech and action and overcome the unconscious behaviors that cause tension and conflict with the people around us.

The other saying that I found especially revelatory was “Don’t expect applause”. Even the best practices and living as the embodiment of lovingkindness and compassion will not guarantee others’ gratitude. Even that internal sense of satisfaction you get at having taken the moral high ground isn’t predictable. This can be incredibly frustrating, and is another emotional reaction which is worth studying. Perhaps the best orientation is to expect the unexpected and approach each situation with curiosity, rather than a sense that if you “do the right thing” you’ll be rewarded somehow.

One final topic that came up during the group discussion that I found interesting was the assertion that there’s limited value in reading about Buddhism. Buddhism is extremely practically focused, and the measure of one’s success is in how one lives, not in what doctrines one understands or agrees with or how frequently or long one sits in meditation. Most books on Buddhism echo a surprisingly small number of core tenets, and once you’ve heard them, there’s little point in further study. The real practice is in learning how to apply those beliefs to Real Life, and that’s where the real learning and growth happens. Buddhism isn’t about the books or the ideas, but about your mind, your heart, and your actions, and bringing them all into alignment.

How many times have you truly been in love?
I think I’d have to say four.
 
What was/is so great about the person you love(d) the most?
I couldn’t say that I loved any one of them “most”. However, one of the most consistent themes in the people I’ve loved has been their ability to serve as an exemplar for me and/or teach me about the emotional half of myself, something that I’ve very rarely acknowledged even exists.
 
What qualities should a significant other have?
See above and below.
 
Have you ever broken someone’s heart?
Thoroughly.
 
If there was one thing you could teach people about love, what would it be?
Relationships are either altruistic or neurotic.
… an altruistic relationship isn’t about controlling the other person and their affections. Instead, it’s about nurturing and supporting your partner and giving them the freedom to seek their own happiness, sometimes even at the cost of your own. It’s about accepting that other people don’t see the world in the same way you do. It’s about understanding why someone thinks their actions are right, rather than making them wrong by focusing on how their actions don’t conform to your own values system. And it’s about asking yourself not how much you can get out of a relationship, but “How can I be generous in this relationship?”
See my journal post entitled “The Wisdom of Altuism”, from which this is excerpted.

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