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Major milestones don’t come as frequently after 18 years of meditation practice, but this month provided a big one in my burgeoning role as a teacher: my first time having the honor of offering the Three Refuges and the Five Precepts.

Taking the Refuges & Precepts is the most fundamental Buddhist ceremony, and is frequently offered at meditation retreats.

Bikkhu Bodhi: Going for Refuge & Taking the Precepts

The Three Refuges are a public statement of confidence in the historical Buddha as a regular human who came to a profound and useful understanding of how the human mind works; the Dhamma, or teachings he gave based on that understanding; and the Sangha, the community of like-minded practitioners. It’s helpful for meditators to relate to these vows as more descriptive of how one feels and where they are currently at in their practice, rather than something proscriptive that someone else is imposing upon them.

How important these vows are in the context of your practice, the specific technicals details of what they mean, and the consequences of breaking them are entirely up to the individual. You can view these as a solemn public statement that you are “A Buddhist”, or you can simply consider them an unnecessary holdover from uncomfortably devotional Asian Buddhist practices, or anything in-between. The Refuges & Precepts are only as solemn as you want them to be.

The Five Precepts are voluntary ethical practices that prompt the practitioner to increase our awareness of the skillfulness of our thoughts, speech, and actions, and to reflect on their impact upon our inner wellbeing.

The Precepts in particular can be uncomfortable for meditators brought up in the Abrahamic religions, where they can come across sounding like the Ten Commandments. However, the similarity is very shallow. A practitioner can adopt all, some, or none of the Precepts. In modern formulations, each Precept not only includes refraining from a particular unskillful action, but also cultivating a corresponding beneficial one.

In addition, taking the Precepts is completely voluntary, and there’s no requirement or pressure involved. They aren’t an edict imposed by some arbitrary external authority, but something one chooses for oneself because of the value and benefit one expects to receive by working with them. And there’s no one handing out punishments for failing to keep the Precepts.

Finally, the Precepts are vague, and (I believe) intentionally so. They’re meant to urge practitioners to look inside themselves and explore the subtleties of what their heart tells them is ethical and skillful. You would think that the precept to refrain from killing living creatures would be pretty straightforward, but our modern society raises complex questions in the ethical grey area that we must all face. Does that mean you can’t kill troublesome insects? Even accidentally? Does it rule out compassionate euthanasia or assisted suicide or abortion? Does it mean we cannot eat meat? And isn’t killing plants still killing a living being? And it’s the same with all the other Precepts; they encourage us to explore our own internal values and how well our real-world actions conform with them.

So that’s what the Refuges & Precepts are. Let’s get back to me…

I first took the Refuges & Precepts in April 2006 at Cambridge Insight, two years into my practice. I’d devoted enough time and study to be confident that I’d found a good home base for exploring how to live my life in accord with my inner values. When I took the Refuges & Precepts, it was deeply meaningful for me.

Over the years I gained knowledge and experience as a practitioner, then began slowly moving into teaching. The Refuges & Precepts were always in the back of my mind, and I hoped that someday I would be able to offer the ceremony to others. But I didn’t feel confident enough to volunteer until recently, now that I’ve got five years of regular teaching under my belt.

But it was the timing that forced my hand. I’ve always felt that the Refuges & Precepts should be offered in May, on the holiday of Vesak, which Buddhists observe as the day of the Buddha’s birth, his enlightenment, and his passing. When my Monday meditation group started lining up our May teaching schedule, they granted my request to take two consecutive weeks — May 9 and 16 – to offer the ceremony.

As the date approached, I sent out an introductory email to the group. After all, this would be very different from our usual sitting and dhamma talks, so I gave people fair warning and set expectations, and sent along the translation we’d be using. It’s worth noting that following the Covid-19 pandemic, the Monday group is still meeting in an online videoconference.

I think people heeded my warning, because only six people attended the first session, about half our usual size. My goal for the evening was to go over what the Refuges & Precepts are – the information I covered above – leaving plenty of time to answer questions. The explanation seemed sufficient, as there were only a couple questions.

The second session had seven people, as we lost one of the previous week’s attendees but gained two new ones. After a quick recap for the new people, I took a couple more questions, then segued into the actual ceremony.

In short, we read the Homage to the Buddha, the Refuges, and the Precepts. For each, I encouraged people to recite them with me in English, then I chanted the Pali version (and anyone who wanted to join in was welcome to), and rang the meditation bell. Because doing this online would have otherwise been a mess, I asked everyone to keep their microphones muted. It seemed to work out fine.

I wanted to follow CIMC’s custom of following the ceremony with a shared social celebration, and I’m really glad I did, because it helped me convey my joy and how special an event it was. For some people it was their first time ever taking the Refuges & Precepts; it was the first time the Monday group had offered them; it was, of course, also my first time offering them; it was the day of Vesak, the most important Buddhist holiday, observing the Buddha’s birth, enlightenment, and passing; and the Monday group’s fifth anniversary is close at hand. And talk about auspicious: there was even a lunar eclipse! It was a wonderful opportunity to share with each other the joy of our practice together, and seeing it bearing fruit.

I probably don’t need to repeat how pleased and honored I feel at being able to offer this ceremony for the first time to a dedicated group of friends and practitioners of varying levels of experience. For me, it was a resounding success, and a huge milestone in my meditation practice and my growth as a teacher.

Now I just have to turn around and teach Dependent Origination two days later to the other group I sometimes lead!

“No matter how much I meditate, I’ll never become Enlightened, whatever that is.” So said an experienced practitioner during one of my meditation groups’ Q&A periods.

I had a strong and immediate reaction, because her understanding of Enlightenment is based on a frustratingly common misconception, and her despairing attitude is completely unnecessary.

To be fair, most Buddhist texts do an awful job explaining Enlightenment (aka Nirvana, Nibbana, arahantship). It’s usually described as a one-time, life-changing accomplishment that completely and permanently obliterates our greed, hatred, delusion, and all the doubts and dissatisfactions of normal life.

That’s a great goal to aspire to, especially if it motivates you to meditate. But there are three big drawbacks.

The first problem is that greed, hatred, delusion, and doubt are an unavoidable part of life, and no human being can fully eradicate them. Chasing such an unattainable goal engenders a whole spectrum of painful, destructive mental states that conflict with the growth of wisdom: insufficiency, striving, comparing oneself to others, frustration, self-doubt, and ultimately failure.

The second problem is that the idea of Enlightenment as a permanent state contradicts the Buddhist belief that everything is impermanent. As described, Enlightenment is a specific mental state, and all things—especially all mind-states—are temporary, ephemeral, and guaranteed to change. Enlightenment as a one-time, irrevocable transformation just doesn’t jibe.

And finally, in my experience Enlightenment simply doesn’t exist. I have never met any meditator—lay or monastic, teacher or student, male or female—who claimed to be Enlightened, or who claimed to have met someone who was.

So much for the formal, upper-case noun “Enlightenment” as described in the suttas and as envisioned in popular culture. But let’s draw a distinction between formal “Enlightenment” and the lower-case adjective “enlightened”.

The former implies a mythical, permanent, once in a lifetime achievement. But if we use “enlightened” to describe a particular action, or a momentary mind-state which may come and go over time, we come much closer to something useful: an action or state of mind that any human being could achieve, if only for a brief time.

What is an enlightened action? It arises from a mind-state of intimacy and connection with all living beings that struggle with suffering. Enlightened acts exhibit love, compassion, delight, and stability, and are free from self-referentialism.

While most of us don’t think that way most of the time, we can and do experience those ah-ha! satori moments of insight when we can see a different, more enlightened way of being. And our practice is to recognize those moments, allow them to guide our actions in the world, examine the results of those actions, and cultivate more such enlightened moments.

This is something everyone can experience and aspire to, without incurring all the striving, comparisons, and failure of chasing some grandiose vision of permanent “Enlightenment”. And when we view enlightened mind-states as temporary, they do not conflict with the law of impermanence. And most importantly, this ”momentary enlightenment” is eminently achievable.

And if you somehow still believe in that permanent state of “Enlightenment”, in practice that's still nothing more than consecutive moments of enlightened behavior.

So let me summarize my view of Enlightenment:

Enlightenment is not what you’ve been told. Enlightenment is simply stringing together enlightened mind-states and actions more and more frequently.
At first, this may not be quickly or easily achieved. But early results produce confidence and progress that gradually accelerates.
Enlightenment is definitely not a permanent, one-and-done accomplishment. It’s something that requires diligence, effort, and commitment over time.
It’s unrealistic to expect Enlightenment to erase all the complexities, doubts, and selfishness of normal life, but it will greatly reduce them.
Letting enlightened moments motivate our behavior still results in the same radically transformed way of thinking about, relating to, and responding to normal life, enabling us to minimize our own suffering, and that of all living beings.

So don’t tell me you’ll never be Enlightened. The real-world possibility of Enlightenment is as close as the very next action you take.

I wrote this two years ago, but never posted it, due to the high emotions surrounding the Presidential election. Now, with John McCain dead and Lord Trump’s midterm popularity contest upon us, I think it’s a fair time to share.

For virtually my entire life, the political world has been divided between Republicans and Democrats.

Americans favor compromise

The Republicans see themselves as the champions of small government, low taxes, strong defense, and individual initiative. Their opponents are quick to point out the shortcomings of Republican policies, which include corporate rapacity, military adventurism, blind nationalism, and selfishness and greed that run counter to the common good.

The Democrats espouse high-minded ideals like fairness, compassion, equality, inclusivity, and a social safety net. However, their government handout programs are expensive, and their idealism can get in the way of real-world pragmatism.

Republicans accuse Democrats of diluting the Christian values of America, while the Democrats point out the hypocrisy of vocally Christian Republicans whose behavior is anything but charitable.

All this posturing obscures the values that we as Americans have in common: freedom, fairness, individualism, a strong economy, and an overall greatness that lends us a justifiable position of world leadership.

This year has brought to light fundamental challenges for the American two-party system. The Republican party has fractured into moderate and radical factions with no viable leadership and no apparent path to reconciliation. The Democratic party faces a similar split between centrists and socialists, although the two factions appear to be able to play together, at least for now.

This is all symptomatic of the fact that the two-party system no longer serves the best interest of Americans. For the first time in decades, the American people have abandoned traditional political parties and the mediocre candidates they typically nominate. The mainstream Republican candidates were all weak and easily toppled by an outspoken, brash, demagogue who gleefully spews the most un-American and shameful vitriol. While the Democrats could only offer us another untrustworthy business-as-usual chameleon.

Meanwhile, the Republican Congress is doing its damnedest to avoid its Constitutional duty to ratify a new Supreme Court justice. The radical faction is the tail that is wagging the Republican party, leaving the Republicans I know in a quandary. There is no longer any space in the Republican party for intelligent people who are fiscally conservative (low taxes and small government) but socially liberal (reproductive rights, LGBT rights, equality, immigration reform). Meanwhile, Democrats don’t exactly welcome members who are fiscally conservative. Where are those voters—and there are plenty of them—supposed to go?

Lost amidst all this shortsighted partisan tantrum-throwing is the old-fashioned notion of hearing one another out and finding mutually-acceptable legislative solutions. Political theory suggests that the majority party honor and address the concerns of the minority party, to produce a stronger piece of legislation that earns bilateral support.

In the past, this has worked well. Democratic social programs can only succeed with assertive watchdoggery. Corporate profit-seeking enhances our standard of living only if its excesses are regulated for the benefit of all. A huge military must be tempered with strong diplomacy and compassionate leadership.

Everyone acts as if the winner gets to mandate how the country is run, but it has always been—and always will be—a political process of communication, negotiation, and compromise. The wisest political solutions only come about when civil people with diverse views work together, which our current political parties have forgotten.

It amazes me that I need to point this out to my fellow Americans, but even radical views don’t need to lead to radical conflict. This is America, for chrissake! Our whole 240-year experiment in democracy is built upon a foundation of political tolerance and respect.

A high-minded but political realist named Lincoln, when asked why he didn’t call Confederate rebels his irreconcilable enemies, once replied, “Do I not destroy my enemies when I make them my friends?”

I suppose an end-of-year update is in order, since I haven’t posted to my main blog since last August.

It’s ironic that my last post covered Inna’s and my summertime trip to Maine, visiting my mother as well as my brother, who had made his annual trip from his west coast home on Vancouver Island.

Ironic because for more than three months now I’ve been back in Maine, caretaking my mother, who has repeatedly bounced back and forth between hospital and nursing home. After several weeks managing it alone, my brother joined me here, so we’re both dealing with another unwanted Maine winter. The only person missing from making this a full repeat of our summer visit is Inna, whom I’ve barely seen at all since last September.

So no Inna, no biking, no Begemot, no job hunt, no Thanksgiving, no Christmas. In their place there’s nothing but snow, ice, and freezing cold, amidst long, dark months spent inhabiting Maine’s fine medical institutions.

It’s hard to look forward more than a day or so. Mom’s health is a perpetual roller-coaster ride; meanwhile, there’s the added stressors of managing her finances, trying to dispose of her accumulated belongings, finding a nursing home placement for her in Pittsburgh, and figuring out how to transport her there. And lo! here comes tax season, when I get to file taxes for two!

To make this vacation extra fun, over the holidays I contracted a really nasty influenza. While that gave me recourse to avoid holiday familial obligations, it cost a solid two weeks of weakness, nausea, coughing, and other unpleasant symptoms that I’m just coming out of.

And I have to admit a very deep-seated depression regarding the election and the prognosis for American democracy. For whatever misguided reasons, the people have ceded control to a selfish, petulant, xenophobic, entitled, compulsive liar who seems intent on systematically dismantling everything America once stood for: quaint, 19th century concepts like truth, ethics, democracy, justice, rule of law, fairness, rationality, integrity, respect, and compassion. It’s astonishing and demoralizing to anyone who still believes in those averred American values.

Meanwhile, the people—from whom all power emanates—stay willfully and myopically focused on things that don’t really matter. It was painful to see so many people wishing “Good riddance to 2016”. If the loss of Prince and Princess Leia (sic) upset you that much, then I have some sobering news for you: 2017 and the complete trainwreck of a “post-ethics” Drumpf Presidency is gonna make your hated 2016 feel like a goddamn Carnival cruise.

So, yeah. Happy new year.

I find my relationship to anger has changed pretty radically, thanks to an insight that you might not think is all that remarkable.

Perhaps it seems consequential to me because of the way I used to relate to anger. After surviving the usual angst-filled years of adolescence, as a young adult I pretty much exiled anger from my emotional repertoire. I’d often say that “I never get angry,” and meant it. I always equated anger with loss of self-control, and it was paramount that others see me as mature, self-sufficient, and safe to be around.

It’s only recently that I realized the reason why anger has so much energy: we only get angry when something has touched and threatened something we really care about. Any time that we invest that much of our emotional well-being in something external, we make ourselves vulnerable. And when something important is threatened or hurt, a common response is to become angry.

So the big revelation is just this: anger is a symptom of vulnerability.

For me, this explains the vast well of anger that I (and most of my friends) felt during puberty. We didn’t know it at the time, but we were desperately looking to be accepted and valued by our peers and the people we admired or were attracted to. At that point, we were looking to others to provide us with a level of self-worth that we could rely on as a base for constructing an independent ego. In a word, we felt intensely vulnerable.

When looked at from the perspective that it is a symptom of vulnerability, anger becomes a really useful thing (dare I say a “good thing”?) to see, because anger tells us (and others) what is important to us. But perhaps even more rudimentary than that, anger shows the world that (despite appearances) there’s something there that we deeply care about.

One of my biggest projects this year is to cultivate a deeper feeling of caring, especially toward people. As a result, I have to acknowledge that caring about something or someone puts me in a position of vulnerability. I’ve arrived at a point in my life where the rewards of caring relationships outweigh the risks to my ego. And ironically, seeing my own anger (and vulnerability) being manifested is one way I can actually measure how successful I’ve been at cultivating a sense of caring about others.

Hold me, hold me, hold me down
I love your anger; I love its sound
Burn me, burn me, on your way
I'll reach out to you this day
Older, wiser, sadder, blinder
Color, blisters, imagine the splendor!

So I’m starting to accept that it’s actually okay to feel angry, to admit feeling it, and to show anger publicly. It’s also okay to stay angry—even after receiving an apology, if I still feel hurt or that something I care about is threatened.

As an added bonus, I’m also seeing other people’s anger from a new perspective, and have learned some new and effective ways of relating to people when they are angry…

When we are interacting with someone who becomes visibly angry, we often either step away and distance ourselves, resist it by taking up an opposing stance, or invalidate their feelings. Whichever of these actions we take, it only reinforces and strengthens their anger.

We don’t often pause to ask about and discover what that person actually cares about and how it is threatened. During a tense situation, asking these simple questions shows respect and openness toward hearing what the angry person has to say. And it’s hard to stay angry when someone sincerely wants to understand the reason behind your pain.

All that is why I think it’s an insight worth sharing.

Patriots’ Day is a state holiday, which my employer honored until this year, having been purchased by a company in Las Vegas that doesn’t think particularly much of Massachusetts’ Revolutionary War history.

The Boston Marathon, which takes place on that day, finishes a block—150 yards—from my condo. Between setup, tear-down, and cleanup, it royally screws up transportation for most of a week. Street closures bring most of the neighborhood to a standstill. They close my MBTA station (Copley) and you physically cannot cross Boylston Street without going a mile out of your way.

Since I would be unable to get to work (or back), I chose to work from home on this year’s Patriots’ Day. In the evening, I also had an appointment to pick up my new bike and do a full fitting, although I didn’t know whether I’d be able to get through the crowds to get to the bike shop!

For most of the day, I ignored the race. Public events are common where I live, whether it’s the Walk for Hunger or a pride parade or a Critical Mass ride or a sports team celebrating a championship or a free concert or a political rally or the Santa Speedo Run or whatever. I mostly tuned out the race’s PA announcer, the shouting vendors, and the partying revelers. Once or twice I looked out my window to see the crowds of exhausted runners walking down Boylston Street, having just crossed the finish line.

Just before 3pm I heard a loud boom. Yes, it might have sounded like a canon, but the first thing I thought of was that someone had taken a huge dump truck and dropped it from 20 feet up. It was an echoing heavy metal sound, like a big truck carrying steel I-beams hitting a wall. Except the concussion was a lot stronger than that. My building was rocked, and a dozen building and car alarms were going off.

Twelve seconds later, as I wondered what was up, I heard the second blast. It was further away from me, but still didn’t sound normal. I got up and went to the window and saw hundreds of panicked runners, spectators, and volunteers streaming out of Copley Square, running down Dartmouth Street toward me. (That’s my condo in the news photo at right.)

Something very bad had obviously happened in the square. I looked for the smoke that would be the tell-tale sign of an explosion, but there was none that I could see above the single row of five-story brownstones between me and the finish line.

My first instinct was to share the news. I went to Facebook and entered what I knew:

Something bad at the marathon… People running all over. Two huge booms, whole building shook, emergency vehicles all over the place.

My next instinct was that this was going to be national news, and I should reach out to friends and family who might wonder if I was injured, so that was my next task.

After that, there was just a whole lot of news watching, and checking out my window as runners, volunteers, and spectators fled the area, rescue vehicles swarmed in to assist the injured, and law enforcement units sealed off the neighborhood.

As it turned out, the first bomb blast was a block from me (see the map), right near my bank and across the street from the Boston Public Library. The second was a block further up, across from Lord & Taylor and my walking route to my neighborhood grocery store.

Although cell service was initially flooded—and despite persistent reports that the police had intentionally terminated cell phone service city-wide—service freed up as people gradually left the neighborhood. I spent the next couple hours fielding inquiries from friends via cell phone, Facebook, instant messaging, and text messages.

Despite all the chaos, I still thought that I could make my bike fitting appointment across town, and brought my old bike down to the lobby. On the way out the door I heard another muffled boom which apparently was a controlled detonation of an abandoned bag that wound up being completely innocuous.

On the street, thousands of people were milling around aimlessly, and the cops had cordoned Dartmouth street off at Commonwealth Avenue. What that meant is that my building was squarely on the edge of the lockdown zone; We could go in and out the main (north) entry, but the side (east) and rear (south) doors were off limits.

I biked off through streets that were largely empty of cars, but with a large number of pedestrians walking around obliviously. Once I got to the bike shop, I saw the “closed early” sign and turned around and made my way home. Knowing Comm Ave would be a mess due to the marathon, I took my only other alternative: the Charles River bike path.

While crossing the Dartmouth Street footbridge over Storrow Drive, one matronly lady headed in the other direction yelled at me, “Don’t go there! The police are there!” to which I, of course, responded, “I live there.”

A few minutes after I got settled back into my apartment, our fire alarm started going off. I assumed the cops had decided to evacuate us, but I checked the hallway and actually smelled smoke. So I started going through the handy list of evacuation tasks I keep by the door. Grady the cat, who up until now had shown absolutely no evidence of concern, was (justifiably) spooked by the blaring fire alarm and it took me a while to corner him and get him into his carrier.

As it turned out, one of the residents had burned dinner. What an irresponsible thing to do, given all the other stuff going on in the neighborhood that needed the fire department’s attention! After a bit of fresh air, the residents were let back inside to soothe our now doubly-jangled nerves.

As night fell, outside my window Newbury Street—which was within the lockdown zone—was absolutely deserted except for cops and military personnel. Absolutely no one was allowed into or out of most of the Back Bay. Huge situation response trucks took up station as the police began to comb through what they termed a “crime scene” that was several square miles in area.

I had planned to take the next day (Tuesday) off to ride my new bike. Despite not having the bike, with the entire neighborhood sealed off there was very little point in trying to get to work, so I took it as a vacation day. And if I could get out and pick up the bike, then I’d take it for a bit of a shakedown cruise.

That morning, one positive development was that the cops opened up Newbury Street to traffic, reducing the lockdown zone a bit and ensuring that my building, at least, would be accessible.

I wasn’t home for much of the day, tho. It was an amazingly stressful and hectic day, made worse by the continuing closure of the Copley MBTA station. At a high level, it went like this…

Walk half a mile to Hynes station. Get past National Guard troops. Take the trolley to the bike shop in Brighton. Take the new bike for a 16-mile test ride outside of the city. Take the trolley back to Boston. Walk half a mile home from Arlington station. Have a Pop-Tart and a glass of juice. Ride the old bike two miles back out to the bike shop. Have an abbreviated fitting done. Ride the old bike two miles back home. Walk half a mile to Arlington station. Take the trolley back out to the bike shop (don’t forget all the National Guard watching this). Ride the new bike two miles home. Turn around and walk half a mile back to Hynes. Hop an MBTA bus to Central Square in Cambridge. Inhale a burrito. Walk to my meditation center for my Tuesday night practice group. Meditate for an hour, then socialize a bit. Walk back to Central and hop the MBTA bus back to Hynes. Walk down to the Fenway Whole Foods, since the two grocery stores that are nearer to me are in the lockdown zone. Too late; they’re closed, so buy milk and OJ at a nearby CVS. Shlep those another mile back home. Collapse.

After just five hours’ sleep, Wednesday I went back to work. The lockdown zone shrank a bit more—down from 17 blocks to 12—freeing up Hereford, Berkeley, and Clarendon. Investigators concluded that the bombs had been constructed of pressure cookers, nails, and metal pellets, and announced that they had obtained surveillance video evidence showing a suspect.

Thursday President Obama (and many others) came to town for an inter-faith ceremony. That night the FBI released photographs of the two suspects.

Friday I was going to bike to work, because it was going to be the warmest day in more than six months, but that plan came to a crashing halt when I learned that shortly after the photos had been released, the bombers had engaged the police in firefights in Cambridge and Watertown, and one of them had been killed. The police had most of eastern Massachusetts completely locked down: no Amtrak, no MBTA, no commuter rail, no cabs, all businesses closed, and residents were told to stay indoors all day.

Despite live news broadcasts all day long, literally nothing happened in the 18 hours after the firefight. After a fruitless search of the neighborhood in Watertown where the surviving suspect was last seen, the police gave a press conference wherein they lifted the stay-put order. On the good side, that meant that the Amtrak would be running Saturday morning, when I had plans to travel to Maine.

But going outside sounded like the height of folly to me, because the second suspect was still armed and on the run. I guess the cops were probably hoping that he’d just turn up somewhere.

Which, as it turns out, was exactly what happened. A man just outside the cordoned-off part of Watertown found the remaining fugitive injured and semi-conscious, hidden in a shrink-wrapped yacht in his backyard, and the police came and took him into custody.

With the second suspect on the way to the hospital, the whole area burst out in celebrations. Of course, even despite the all-clear and the police high-fiving one another and the T being opened, Copley Square MBTA station remained closed, and the entire 12-block area around my apartment was still off-limits to the public.

That pretty much killed the day Friday.

On Saturday I did manage to get out of town on the Downeaster, and returned again on Sunday night. Copley and my neighborhood still off limits.

Monday. Still off limits. On the way home from work, I stopped at the grocery store, then lugged my provisions a mile and a half home. But the FBI turned the site back over to the city of Boston.

Tuesday. Still off limits. CIMC had a special evening gathering, led by the three guiding teachers.

Finally, on Wednesday morning they opened things up. After nine days of being unable to use my MBTA station or cross my neighborhood, the marathon (in both senses of that word) was finally over!

So that’s what happened. Now for a few thoughts…

One oddity is that I remember having the thought—sometime in the week leading up to the marathon—that we hadn’t had any major national emergencies in a long time, and that we were probably due. I don’t recall what prompted that thought, but I am certain it happened.

Although thinking back on it, Back Bay has been through a lot lately. We just got through a region-wide road closure due to a massive blizzard, but before that we spent 48 hours without power after a substation failure, and a week without drinking water when a 10-foot water main broke out in Weston. And then there were hurricanes Sandy and Irene.

I’m disappointed that I didn’t do more to help other people over the past week, to put my compassion practice into action. While I was probably right in telling myself that I wasn’t needed at the bomb scene, I probably could have helped stranded runners or traumatized spectators. But I guess there’s something to learn from my inaction, and hopefully I’ll do a better job next time.

On the other hand, one close friend said it was unexpectedly thoughtful of me to let people know that I was okay. And another friend used the word “compassion” as one of the three things that she thought I epitomized. So that was mildly reassuring.

Speaking of compassion and first responders, I saw an interesting reaction to the bombing that spoke eloquently to me about how men’s manifestations of love and compassion go unseen and unacknowledged. Here:

I had an amazing insight about men. This one insight seems life-changing to me: “Acts of heroism are acts of love.”

Why is this life changing? Because I don’t think the narrative out there right now is that men are constantly involved in deep, fundamentally good, acts of love. All the time. Men are not talked about, as a group, as being demonstrative of their love. Of being ongoing catalysts for acts of goodness. And yet they do that all the time. I think the narrative is that men take heroic actions because they are told it’s a role they must play, because men are “supposed” to be strong, supposed to be brave. Because they are “manning up” the way they were taught to. If love is talked about with men, it is in the context of sexuality. When men are called “lovers”, it is often code for “womanizers”. But men act in love, and show that love, all the time. For some unfathomable reason, we call it something else.

I don’t think men get enough credit for love.

I think my meditation practice really helped me deal with a situation that would otherwise produce a lot of anxiety and emotional discomfort. While I saw and acknowledged my own emotions, I was much more intrigued by the reactions of the people around me.

For several days, the main question on people’s minds was the search for “who”: who did it?

Lots of people either undertook their own search for the culprit based on photographs that had been posted or formulated their own opinions based on little to no data. But realistically, no private citizen was going to identify the bomber; that’s what we pay our law enforcement agencies for. Get out of the way and let them do their job!

As my teacher pointed out, this compulsion comes entirely from mental discomfort, because the identity of the bomber has absolutely no relevance for most of us. In fact, if the bomber had never been found, it would have made absolutely no material difference in most people’s lives. So why did they spend so much mental energy and anguish trying to answer this question? That kind of desperate, undisciplined thought is the symptom of someone with an undeveloped sense of self-awareness.

Then, after it was learned that the suspects were pretty average Cambridge kids, the next question everyone was asking was “why”: why would someone do such a thing? This was prevalent both in my family as well as from other practitioners at CIMC, and it really surprised me.

I think the very question is indicative of cultural bias. While many of us say that we respect and value other cultures—especially in a highly educated, multi-cultural town like Cambridge—very few of us understand what that means in practice. It’s frustrating that I have to spell it out, but people from other cultures will have different values! They won’t be the same as ours.

While a Buddhist might value non-harming above all other things, and your average American Christian might value order and stability, someone from a foreign culture might consider those less important than individual freedom or cultural preservation or economic fairness. Why would someone bomb innocent civilians? Because it’s important to them within the framework of their values.

I don’t understand what is so mysterious about the fact that other people might have different values than yourself. Why is that so incomprehensible? But people really seem to operate on this unspoken assumption that everyone shares their values. That’s not true even within a family, never mind across vast ethnic, religious, geographic, and political divisions!

I heard the phrase “I don’t understand” so many times that I wanted to grab people and shake them. Of course you don’t understand! You’re not *trying* to understand. A criminal’s actions only make sense when viewed through *their* value system; of course it doesn’t make sense if you insist on viewing it through your very different values. That’s like wondering why birds don’t save their energy and just drive south like the rest of us, rather than fly. Of course it doesn’t make sense if you insist on interpreting bird behavior using human norms and values!

But this question of “why” is even broader than that. Sure, any seemingly “inexplicable” act (criminal or otherwise) can be partially explained by understanding the values espoused by the protagonist. But what about acts of nature or acts of “god”? Aren’t people are just as prone to ask “why” in response to a tsunami or a wildfire or a landslide or a cancer diagnosis?

I find this baffling, because change is inevitable and life is very fragile. These aren’t just platitudes to make you feel better (in fact, they should make you feel quite insecure). But more importantly, these are the incontrovertible base assumptions and conditions that we live under! There doesn’t need to be a *reason* for something bad to happen, because bad things are a part of life, an indisputable fact. All this breast-beating and asking why they happen is like asking why nitrogen happens or bemoaning the law of gravity. If you are asking why it happened, you really need to reexamine the mistaken assumptions you live by.

In contrast, I suppose I should point out something uplifting, too. With so much focus on the bombers and their actions, consider the correspondingly much greater number of people and acts of kindness and compassion that took place over the past week. We should all be heartened by the vastly larger outpouring of support for those affected.

I want to particularly highlight two tweets that crossed my feed shortly after the bombing. In the midst of the chaos and terror, many people thought of giving blood to help the injured. But still, I was amazed by this:

Red Cross reporting sufficient blood in banks at this time. Some marathoners ran directly to MGH to donate after blasts.

I can’t imagine finishing a marathon, running an extra mile, and then having blood drawn. Simply amazing! Not especially smart, but amazing.

But I really felt a deep pride in my city when I read the next tweet. How does Boston respond to a terrorist attack? Like this:

I have no idea how we are supposed to react to something like this, other than love each other more.

I’ve always loved this city. It’s a wonderful mix of ambition and compassion, competitiveness and brotherhood, pride of place and openness, history and innovation, intelligence and grit, vibrant city culture and outdoor activities for the athletically inclined. Boston isn’t perfect, but it strives mightily to be the best. And contrary to the intentions of these terrorist wannabes, the marathon bombing they undertook did something very special: it provided us with a rare opportunity to demonstrate love for our city and our fellow Bostonians, and it bound this great community together more tightly than ever before.

I love that dirty water. Aw, Boston you’re my home.

Heck, I’m so moved I might even include Cambridge…

Last night I went to see "Examined Life", film wherein the filmmaker gives a dozen-odd modern philosophers ten minutes each to pontificate.

The 2008 film reminded me far too much of a less skilfully done version of Richard Linklater’s 2001 animated movie "Waking Life". The parallels are too many to ignore: the same loosely-related episodic format of someone discussing philosophy with the protagonist/narrator; the same incorporation of striking background settings and jazzy music to lend an atmospheric air to the monologues; the same toeing the line between genuine hopefulness and sarcastic postmodern cynicism; even the same walking/strolling visual motif. Despite the inarguable validity of the Plato quote, the parallel between the movie titles—Waking Life versus Examined Life—is so close as to imply subconscious (if not conscious) appropriation.

Aside from the facts that the newer film is not animated and the philosophers are real people, the main dissimilarity is the fact that unlike Waking Life, Examined Life has no overarching storyline to bring it all together. In the end, it’s just a bunch of talking heads with separate agendas, one talking about environmentalism, another about disabilities, another about gender, and so on, and neither they nor the director make any attempt to connect the disparate issues and bring them into a coherent whole. It’s a movie with no message, no direction, no conscious intent, which leaves one with the lingering question: is the unexamined movie worth seeing?

Despite that shortcoming, each scene did have value within its own context, and I came away with what, to me, were three interesting thoughts.

The first is the most obvious, and the ultimate reason for philosophy’s existence and importance. Most people look outside themselves for some source to define their ethics, whether that be the Biblical God or a political ideology or whatever. But in an era when most intellectuals have denied the existence of a supreme being, that raises the question of whether we should try to live an ethical life, and where our ethics should come from. The obvious answer is to look within: you are acting ethically when your actions are aligned with your values, and it’s the examination of those values that provides us with direction. And lest anyone think that ethics are outmoded in a largely secular culture, I point out that our ethics and our values are what guide every decision we make. Our ethics may look somewhat different than those of modern or historical Christians, but that does not mean that we do not live by certain ethical precepts.

Another interesting point was made by Cornel West. He said that courage—courage to think for ourselves, the courage to express our love, and the courage to manifest our beliefs in this selfish world—is the most critical attribute for a modern philosopher. I found that very interesting, and very apropos to my Buddhist studies. It’s something I hope to share with my dharma friends in the near future.

My final thought makes a connection between philosophy and superstition, between this movie and a number of upcoming local events. When faced with life or death or natural disasters, humans try to assign meaning to the event: it is God’s will, or the evolutionary imperative, or the material dialectic. Finding meaning and patterns of cause and effect are what human brains are wired to do; even when there is clearly no meaning, we create theories, like the Polynesian islander whose cargo cult tells him that huge silver birds magically bestow chocolate and cigarettes upon his people. Our ideas about the unanswerable, unknowable facts of life, death, and natural disasters are no more than superstitions created by a brain that evolved to find meaning in every event it observes.

I made this connection after reading a bit about a handful of very interesting and related author talks that are coming up. Tomorrow, cognitive neuroscientist Bruce M. Hood will be speaking about his book "SuperSense: Why We Believe in the Unbelievable", which explores this very topic. A week later, Gary Marcus discusses his book "Kluge: The Haphazard Construction of the Human Mind", which asserts that our brains are the result of a random evolutionary process that piled new systems on top of old ones, resulting in an imperfect and inconsistent facility. Finally, a week after that, Alva Noë talks about his "Out of Our Heads: Why You Are Not Your Brain, and Other Lessons from the Biology of Consciousness".

It’s quite a month for thinkers!

A couple days ago, I was walking down the street I overheard two girls talking behind me. I couldn’t help but eavesdrop, since we were walking in the same direction at the same pace.

One of the girls had just started a new relationship, and the other girl was asking about the guy, and the first question out of her mouth was “What television shows does he watch?”

Now, that freaked me out a bit. Like, are entertainment preferences really the yardstick that people use to measure someone’s character? Maybe I was just feeling sensitive after a meditation session, but I was struck by how pathetically shallow our society has become.

But they weren’t done yet. The other girl listed off his favorite shows and said that she didn’t like them. The only one I recognized was “South Park”, which—surprise!—doesn’t exactly qualify as “Television for Women”.

The inquirer then talked about how she and her beau had broken up because he liked to watch Sports Center, but she liked Gossip Girl. She was unambiguous that it was the primary reason they had gone separate ways. Wow.

The girls went on to talk about how important it was to fill the 7-10pm block of time each night with programs they wanted to see. At that point, I decided to vector off in a separate direction to avoid further deterioration of my world-view. Is this really how people live? People who think they’re deep, thoughtful individuals?

That hit me in a couple ways. First, it made me wonder what they would think of me: someone who hasn’t had a tv in 14 years, and hasn’t missed it a bit. If television is such an important part of determining how compatible two people are, I have very little hope of being some attractive lady’s “dream guy”.

But neither do I have much clue about how one might find a woman who is “deep” or “self-aware” by my definition of the word. In fact, the whole thing just makes me despair for the state of these clever apes run amok.

At the risk of self-aggrandizement, it reminds me of how the Buddha must have felt. According to the legend, after his enlightenment, people pleaded with him to impart his wisdom to them. But he demurred for several days, thinking that people would be unable to understand what he had learned. Sometimes I feel that way… Discouraged that so many people live their lives in complete unconsciousness, slaves to their habits and unexamined patterns of thought, yet at a loss for what to do about it.

The Buddha was finally convinced to teach by Brahma, the king of the gods, who said that there were people “with little dust in their eyes” who were capable of hearing his message. Like him, I have to admit that I’ve met some people who are exceptionally self-aware. They’re very few, but those people really do make all the difference in the world, and I’m very grateful for their presence in my life.

But they’re not people who base their mating habits on compatible Nielsen ratings.

Huh. I was sorting through an electronic pile of refuse when I came across this little gem I wrote. Not sure how long ago.

Core values: corporations who think they’re important love them. Little do they know that in most cases they’re actually the kiss of death.

Think about it. When corporate leaders formulate a list of the company’s core values, they rarely think about how their employees actually behave; usually they’re thinking of how they *wish* their staff behaved. Even the guys and girls in the corner offices who are aware that there’s a difference between the two shrug it off, thinking it should inspire their workers and give them a lofty target to aspire to.

But when you are a worker bee and every day you see people violating the “core values”, then you come to have a lot of disdain and even contempt for that list and the people who dreamed it up it on their two-week Caribbean offsite. That attitude rapidly spreads throughout a company, and very effectively de-motivates even the most bushy-tailed college recruit.

What’s the alternative? How about taking a good, honest look at your company culture before etching those lofty values in brass? Make your values descriptive, not proscriptive. Maybe you’ll wind up with a core value of “We try to help our clients, even though they frustrate the hell out of us sometimes”. It’s not exactly a call to excellence, but at least it’s accurate, and that’s a lot less harmful than when a veteran shows the plaque to an eager and gullible new hire and says, “Yeah, we really don’t do that shit. Some manager just made those up.” I remember finding one such brass plaque at my first job, discarded on the floor in a storage closet.

In consulting, probably the single most important thing you learn is to manage people’s expectations. You always strive to under-promise and over-deliver, because doing more than someone expects makes you look like a hero, and doing less than someone expects causes doubt, mistrust, and contempt.

What surprises me is that senior managers never apply that expectation management lesson to corporate core values. Most companies set lofty, unattainable values that they never live up to, ensuring that any employee who believes in the core values winds up disappointed, crushing any enthusiasm they might have had. While the “leadership team” sits in the boardroom and wonders why they have morale issues despite the awesome core values the company stands for.

So if your company starts talking about core values, take a very careful look at whether they’re descriptive or wholly proscriptive, because the latter are guaranteed to cause trouble.

I’ve been working here at the client site for a few weeks now. They’ve been long, hard weeks, and the whole team has been working at an unsustainable pace.

Soon after they moved into this new building, the client put a bunch of posters up, most of which I’ve only peripherally registered as I walk past. One of them’s “Our Values & Guiding Principles”.

I’ve been parsing one bullet from that poster each time I walk by it. So far, each item has been the typical corporate team pabulum. Today I finally reached the last item on the list and nearly doubled over from the crippling irony.

Yes, dear reader, the ninth and last item on the list:

Personal life is #1

Although I really try to avoid it, I think that actually calls for a hearty OMFG ROFL!!!11111

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