Choosing freedom

I am reading the book "Work" by Thich Nhat Hanh. Sometimes I am disturbed by his writing because it seems to me rather unsophisticated—simplistic, even. But I think this is fully intentional on his part. What I am looking for, what I think of as sophistication, is a form of intellectual engagement which makes me feel as if I understand what is going on in the world, that I have a grasp of it that is somewhat superior to the average human. I know this sounds arrogant, but my point is that we do this very thing all the time, seek to be engaged on an intellectual level, at a level of sophistication that has nothing to do with true understanding. We try to live in a sort of academic model of the Buddha's teachings in which we begin with Enlightenment 101 and progress through the syllabus to Final Realization, the PhD of Buddhism.

But the Buddha himself rejected even the idea of "Buddhism" as being antithetical to his teachings. The problem with identifying oneself as a Buddhist is two-fold: it assumes that there is something which is not of the Dharma and it assumes that there is a class of people who are non-Buddhists. Both of these are fallacious concepts and do nothing but feed into the very egoism that is the core of suffering. So I think that the simplicity of Hanh's teachings is purposeful. This is the whole answer, he seems to be saying. Sometimes I can sense the Buddha smiling indulgently when I try to overcomplicate this thing.

Here is one realization that has become more real for me lately: the end of suffering is a choice, and not a particularly difficult one. Now, I have understood this intellectually for a long time. This is, after all, the core of the Buddha's teachings. But recently I have begun to incorporate this idea more viscerally. I have a choice, in each moment, for suffering or for freedom. Let me be even more clear about this. Nirvana is the end of suffering; that's all it is. And since we have it within our power to choose freedom, Nirvana, too, is within our grasp, right now, today, in this very life. No, but really. There is no further sophistication required and the seeking of such complexity creates suffering.

The question that immediately arises, then, is why can't we consistently choose freedom? What's stopping us? I sometimes feel I would like to march up to Dharma teachers and take them by the collar of their saffron robes and demand that they tell me the secret. Yes, yes, it's a simple thing to choose freedom. It also seems to be damn near impossible.

Of course, the answer is complicated. But it's only complicated by our twisty minds. We have been conditioned to certain ways of thinking and being in the world that are antithetical to freedom. And we completely and utterly believe in our conditioning, so even if we come to an understanding of the nature of freedom we still seek comfort from those things that cannot supply it. Recall that in my last post I quoted the Buddha as saying "Everything the world considers a source of suffering I consider a source of freedom. Everything the world considers a source of freedom, I consider a source of suffering." This is worth musing on. He said, "everything", not most things or a few. Renunciation, for instance, which simply means giving up everything that does not and cannot give us happiness, a pizza, for instance, feels like deprivation in the practice. On the other hand, the attempt to derive lasting pleasure from a pizza would be considered by the Buddha a source of suffering. But life is too short, we think, to give up such pleasures as these. Life is hard enough, isn't it? The Buddha would reply, I think, that life is too short to ask pleasures like these to give us true happiness and divert us from the path that can lead to the real thing. These create suffering, not relieve it, because using them to supply happiness requires that they be constantly renewed. No sooner have we had the pleasurable experience than it must be re-experienced to sustain the pleasure. The deep joy that comes from true freedom, on the other hand, is perpetual, indestructible, and ever-present.

Last week, I listened to a fascinating talk on this subject by Robina Courtin. She makes the case that what the Buddha called "attachment" (the grasping onto something that gives us pleasure, the rejection of that which is perceived as unpleasant) we might more accurately call "addiction". Of course, this is not a new idea, but she gave it new life for me. It is instructive to look at the destructive cycle of a true addict, say one hooked on crystal meth, where the craving is constant and implacable, to the exclusion of everything wholesome and useful. It is easy to consider ourselves entirely above this kind of behavior, yet Courtin emphasizes that "we are all addicts; it's only a matter of degree." This is hard to hear, but is precisely what I was speaking of above. Because we have freedom within our grasp and take actions that stand between us and that freedom, we must be addicted to experiences that move counter to freedom, otherwise, why would we do them? We are just like the meth addict in this, but we use donuts and Starbucks and cars, television and shopping and wine, sex and vacations and food.

Now, you'll have to excuse me. I am going down the street to buy some gelato. I'm then going to come home and watch the World Series. I'm sure these will bring me lasting happiness. Just see if they don't.

(After I wrote this, I really did go down the street to buy some gelato. They didn't have any of my flavors, so I had to settle for sorbet, which I like, but not nearly as much. Then on the way home, a bird shit on my head. I kid you not.

Well played, Mr. Buddha, sir, well played).

Suffering

The other day, I read an article in the New York Times by an author (Pico Iyer, who should know better) who said that the Buddha was of the opinion that suffering is an inextricable part of being alive as a human. This is not true. In fact, what the Buddha taught is precisely the opposite. The first Noble Truth is, indeed, that there is suffering. But rather than a prescriptive statement, it is merely a descriptive one. It's a fact. There is suffering. But the Buddha also said, "I have come to teach only two things: suffering and the end of suffering." All of his teachings point toward how we can end suffering. Nowhere in them is the idea floated that we must simply put up with it.

Which is not to say that that painful will not come. We all know it will. As one famous formula has it, suffering is pain times resistance. It is not that the pain or grief or difficulty is avoidable. But what we do with what comes our way, how personally we take it, how vigorously we push it away is what creates our suffering.

This is worth dwelling on for a moment, because it is so entirely opposite what we usually think. Our suffering, so the usual thought goes, is caused by the source of our pain. For instance, I have recently been suffering around a conflict at work and it took me several weeks and a great deal of concentrated meditation to realize that the other person was not the source of my suffering. She was the source of my pain, perhaps, though a great deal of that was my stuff, too. But the suffering was 100% my doing because I was living in resistance to the painful experience.

Which is not to say that others can't be entirely and sometimes egregiously wrong. This is not a method for letting others off the hook (though it's worth considering whether or not their presence on or off the hook is any of our business, really). What the Buddha was telling us is that precisely what we believe to be a solution to our suffering (blaming, criticizing, being right) is what is, in fact, causing us to suffer.

One of the Buddha's most radical teachings was when he said, "Everything the world considers a source of suffering I consider a source of freedom. Everything the world considers a source of freedom, I consider a source of suffering." We reach for substances, experiences, people and other sources of distraction, believing they will bring us lasting happiness and they only bring us the most fleeting pleasure. We look with horror at the prospect of renunciation, of no longer relying on shopping, drinking, eating, sex, travel, television, and other distractions as a source of happiness. (Don't get me wrong—unless you are addicted to these, I am not advocating giving them up entirely, just the idea that they can bring us true happiness).
In other words, the Buddha's teachings can be summed up in three vital points:

1. There is suffering.
2. We believe we know what will end suffering.
3. We are wrong.

One of the most compelling images in all of Buddhism is that of the Hungry Ghost, a being who is eternally ravenous, who eats and eats and eats but has a stomach so capacious it can never be satisfied. He is always hungry and never thinks that perhaps not giving in to the hunger might bring him more happiness than trying to feed it. This is a perfect image of us as we go through nearly every day. It is not an easy matter to give this up, this delusion. But, look at those around you and at your own life. How often do we go through days, weeks, months, lifetimes seeking for joy outside ourselves without realizing that the treasure we seek is here where we are, how we are, right now, today, this moment. We can live here in perfect peace if that is what we choose.

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P.S. I doubt any of you were waiting with trepidation and anxiety to hear the outcome of my job search, about which I wrote a few weeks ago. I withdrew my application for the job I applied for and have not yet decided whether or not to look for another job after the first of the year, but I won't do anything until then. The reasons for my withdrawal are both complex and fairly boring, so just let me say that it is a decision about which I feel good.