As a smart kid growing up in an economically depressed area, my adolescent ambition—and that of many of my peers—could be summarized in the two-word mission “Get out!” As in: get out of this backwater state and find an interesting place to live where you can meet intelligent people and make a good living doing challenging work that has a real impact on the world.

High school friends

High school friends

Once I fulfilled that goal, I used to take satisfaction in comparing my achievements to those of the friends I used to hang out with back in high school. I judged them and their lives by the degree to which they succeeded in getting out and making something of themselves: criteria which many of them had espoused back in our high school days.

Now that the struggle for status and success is much farther behind me, my definition of success has finally loosened up. While I still enjoy looking at the lifestyle choices of my childhood friends, the rush to judgment has receded; instead of gauging success by whether or not someone got out of Maine, I simply find interest and occasional amusement at the paths they have taken and the lives they have constructed.

There are, of course, the inevitable filters. Who settled down and raised a family, and who remained single or childless? Who actively tried to bring their dreams to life, and who were content to passively let things transpire? Who stayed in small-town Maine, and who distanced themselves from the safety of friends and family? Who chose a rural, pastoral life, and who was called to the big city or international travel? Even in the absence of judgment, these are very interesting questions.

As is life’s nature, there are surprises: ambitious people who—for whatever reason—settled for less than their potential, and folks who soared way beyond what you would ever have guessed. These are the stories I find most interesting: what people made of their life, and how their choices changed and evolved over the long years of adulthood.

I don’t think my life story would surprise anyone who knew me in high school. I was a smart but geeky and introverted kid, and no one would be shocked that I left town in search of a career in the tech field, where I did reasonably well.

In addition to being in-line with my nature, my choices thankfully led to my success and long-term happiness. I’ve experienced a vast spectrum of life’s offerings, and throughout it all, I’ve been genuinely and deeply happy with a lifestyle that has changed over time, but always suited me extremely well.

Whatever lifestyles my old friends crafted as a result of their life circumstances and decisions, I hope their paths have suited them just as well.

Level Up!

Oct. 6th, 2010 11:26 am

There seems to be a predictable trajectory for people who get interested in Vipassana meditation. At first it’s all about information-gathering: learning as much as one can about the dhamma by inhaling Buddhist books and dhamma talks.

Not surprisingly, when I went through that phase, I did it to the nines. From 2004 through 2008, I read voraciously and attended hundreds of dhamma talks at CIMC, absorbing as much as I could. But I also plundered the internet, downloading and listening to (without exaggeration) a couple thousand dhamma talk podcasts, particularly by Ajahn Brahm of the BSWA and Gil Fronsdal of IMC.

A couple years ago, I finally reached the saturation point. The subject matter of the talks had become very familiar—almost second-nature to me—and my beginners’ enthusiasm slowly waned, giving way to a mild annoyance when a live dhamma talk would be followed by people asking the same redundant and off-topic questions during the usual post-talk Q&A. I found myself feeling frustrated that CIMC’s speakers had to limit their talks to an introductory level, since a fair percentage of their audience are beginners. And I wanted to look into the topics in more detail than a single 45-minute talk could allow.

It was time for me to move on.

CIMC also hosts a handful of standing practice groups that meet on a weekly basis. I attended a few of these (specifically on metta, wise speech, and moving from reactivity to discernment) and found them useful, but they typically meet about eight times, so it felt like the group disbanded as soon as it had gained that sense of continuity I was looking for. It seemed a bit silly to attend the same practice group multiple times, and I wasn’t interested in attending other practice groups whose topics weren’t of value to me.

Just recently, I found my way to another CIMC practice group called the “Long-Term Yogi” program. It’s a more permanent standing group of experienced practitioners, so they get into topics in much more depth, and the participants tend to stay with it for a much longer period of time, so there’s real continuity from month to month and year to year.

The downside is that one has to obtain permission from the teacher to attend. I was asked to assemble a brief history and describe the current state of my practice in order to justify my participation, then wait for the teacher to judge me worthy or unworthy. It was a very uncomfortable exercise in ego and self-aggrandizement and then awaiting judgment… from a place that typically discourages all that. But in the end I was accepted and enrolled in the program.

So far I’ve been to two (weekly) meetings, and have enjoyed them quite a bit. We’re going slowly through the Eightfold Path, examining each path factor in great depth. This fall the group will focus on the latter two (out of four) aspects of wise speech: harsh speech and idle speech, both of which are of particular interest to me. The atmosphere is very collegial, and the weekly contact with CIMC teacher Narayan is also very valuable.

I’m really very optimistic that the LTY program is where I belong right now. It seems like the perfect venue for deepening my practice while benefiting from the consistent support of a great teacher and other knowledgeable and experienced practitioners.

Like my wonderful Kalyana Mitta group (which has been running for nine months and I am remiss in not having mentioned before), the LTY program feels like the embodiment of sangha: a semi-permanent supportive community of dedicated practitioners. I am very fortunate to have been welcomed into these two groups; they both feel very comfortable and right, like the true refuge that sangha is supposed to be. They give me great optimism for my practice and its future evolution.

Frequent topics