Observations III

For the third year in a row, I bring to you the observations I have made throughout the year of things that strike me as odd, off-kilter, and how they could be improved in a world of which I was the absolute master. If you are particularly masochistic and wish to see the previous two installments of this particular self-indulgent act of curmudgeonliness, please click here and here. Enjoy!

? Why are there no A or B batteries?

? One small advantage of growing old is those new, super-powerful hand dryers. With the loss of connective tissue in my hands, it's very entertaining to see the ridges and furrows those things can make.

? Isn't it interesting how in a single generation smokers went from looking kinda cool to looking like idiots?

? Isn't it strange how such a small amount of water can cover so much floor space when you spill it?

? Ever noticed how major construction projects quickly get about 99% done and then stall (usually while still blocking the sidewalk), sometimes for months?

? Are those who create apps really so incompetent that they have to update them so often? How often does Mega Solitaire really need to be improved?

? Another sign I'm getting old: I just think nursing students are cute; so earnest, so young, so sweet.

? I just gotta say that this ongoing trend of kilt wearing by (non-Scottish) men just doesn't work for me; it looks plain dorky. It doesn't help that most of those who try to pull this off were probably dorks to begin with.

? There is something seriously wrong with my schedule if the neighbor's five year old is still out playing on a school night when I'm already in bed.

? Why do grocery stores feel they must periodically rearrange all their aisles so I can no longer find what I'm looking for?

? There is something deeply wrong with a world in which a sticker saying "Caution. Sharp blade" must be placed on my paper cutter. Seems to me a bit like a sign saying, "Warning, gravity" on every slope and stairway.

? Even though I paid for the premium site to avoid ads, I'm still a little intimidated by Pandora. If I don't do either a thumbs up or down after a while, I get this vague, unsettling feeling  it disapproves of me.

? Why would anyone like Grape Nuts on Facebook? Almost 250,000 people have, though.

? Those of you who ignore my emails: cut it out! It's just plain rude. Sorry to sound like my mother, but every non-spam message should be answered. If you really don't want to respond to what I wrote, at least have the guts to tell me so. Jeez.

? Can't we please find an analogy for progressive unveiling that's not an onion?

? Let me tell you about Reido Air, my proposal for a new airline. No overhead bins. Two free checked bags, guaranteed to be at the carousel in 30 minutes. No beverage or food service. You want food? Bring it with you! We will even sell food cheaply at the gate before you board. Just imagine: no competition to board the plane because everything goes under the seat in front of you. You can always get to the bathroom if you need to because there's no freaking carts in the aisle. And we all get off the plane lickety-split because no one is heaving their carry-ons around. Heaven.

? It is an admittedly small but nonetheless genuine joy to have new, sharp fingernail clippers.

? Speaking of which, why in English are some singular things pluralized, like clippers, scissors, and pants? And, no, I'm not convinced it's because there are two blades or pant legs or whatever. A shirt has two arms, after all, and a pipe two ends, a coin two sides, .... And why do I get my hair cut and not my hairs?

? A license should be required to grow a beard and should be immediately revocable if one can't grow a decent one, doesn't know how to trim it properly, or doesn't wash it regularly.

? Why does the word-suggester in my phone know all manner of esoteric words yet I have to teach it swear words? I mean, it didn't even know "hell" or "crap". Are we really as puritanical as all that?

? Does it drive anyone else nuts that some people seem to have no awareness they are blocking an aisle or thoroughfare while they are standing there having that conversation? For that matter, if your gate at the airport is near a walkway, do you really think it's reasonable to stand smack dab in the middle of the latter to guarantee your quick access to the former?

? Sometimes it can be quite comforting just to retie one's shoes.

? I'm a little tired of everyone telling me to keep a copy of this or that document for my records. Maybe I will and maybe I won't. So there.

? When I bring a backup bottle of dish soap to work, why do people always start to use the new bottle rather than finishing off the old one first?

? Why in the world would anyone have timed sprinklers in Seattle? Here I am, walking in a torrential downpour, and there you are, watering away!

? Who in their right mind pays the exorbitant price for "gogo in-flight internet"? $500 a year? $3 for half an hour? What are they thinking?

? Didn't rubber bands used to last longer?

? Money is filthy. Wouldn't it make sense if any place that took cash had hand sanitizer at the register?

? Does anyone ever use the word "ulterior" except in conjunction with "motive"?

? Researchers want you to know this: what you eat, how you eat it, how much of it you eat, where you eat it, why you eat it, and whether or not you eat it, food is killing you.

? OK, I understand and appreciate the password to get into my bank or my Google account, but aren't we getting a bit carried away when I need a password to make an appointment for a haircut?

? If you live in Western Washington, we have no spiders that bite. Sorry to break it to you. It seems like every person who comes into the clinic with a pimple on their leg has diagnosed it as a spider bite. It ain't.

? If you have something important to announce, please don't only put it on Facebook and assume you have your bases covered. Some of us spend very little time there and it would be very sad if we missed out.

? What's up with the way men's shirts come packaged from the store? Each one is like it's own individual Rubik's cube and no two are the same. Is there some sort of protocol for how these must be intricately bundled? And, hey, two pieces of cardboard and a plastic thingy for each collar? Really? And good luck getting all the pins out before you stick yourself putting the damn thing on. I mean, folks, it's a shirt, for God's sake.

? How did that rock get in my shoe? Think about it. It's not as if I walk through gravel pits, and that little rock had to fly up into the air at just the right trajectory to land in the small space between my foot and the shoe. Pretty remarkable, and it happens all the time.

? I don't understand how it could be sensible to concentrate lemon juice and then reconstitute it before selling it to me.

? I think we ought to celebrate our birthdays for the number of days that we have years. A one year old doesn't need more than a day, but at my age, I deserve 58 days of presents and cake.

Thanks for reading! And for reading the blog throughout the year; I really enjoy writing it. Happy Holidays!

Consciousness conundrum

Row, row, row your boat
Gently down the stream
Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily
Life is but a dream.

Life is but a dream. This is one of the core teachings in Buddhist thought. Life is as a dream, an illusion that imitates reality. The truth of things is that each millisecond is different from the one that came before. No matter how minutely we subdivide time, we will still never find a segment that is identical to that which came before or that which comes after. And the only moment (or fraction thereof) in which we are truly living is this one.

Yet we live slathered in the illusion of solidity, in the dream of our moments being contiguous and change happening gradually, in the delusion that we are essentially the same persons until a crisis comes along to change us. Much of unhappiness can be laid at the door of this mistaken perception—we recall (or believe we do) a time when all was serene and perfect and if we can only recapture that time.... Or perhaps we have not experienced such an event, but have seen it in others, or in the reality-bending delusion machines of literature, television, and movies, wherein people live simple lives (bad or good) and resolution occurs on schedule. We crave such certainty and grieve that we cannot achieve it. When, in fact, it is not achievable. The illusion of certainty is an inherently uncertain world means that the more certain we are of anything, the more deluded.

The irony here is that only that which makes us uniquely human stands in the way of our enlightenment, yet only that which makes us uniquely human makes enlightenment possible at all. And this uniquely human trait is that of consciousness, of having the self-awareness to realize that such a thing as enlightenment exists, is desirable, and a path exists to achieve it. Yet all of this self-aware thought is precisely what causes us to seek for fulfillment in all the wrong places. Nearly all of us spend our lives in this puzzling state and die ungratified and confused.

But there is good news. First of all, for most of us enlightenment occurs gradually. Yes, there are all those delightful stories of someone hearing the teachings, the light dawns, and suddenly an Arhat stands where a mere mortal was a moment ago. But these are meant to inspire us, not show us how it's done. Every day, in every moment, we can reach for either surrender or resistance. The choice is ours. The first leads to peace. The second leads to suffering. It is not more complicated than that unless we choose to make it so.

Norman Fischer (in "Training In Compassion") has this to say:

If you and everyone else you know are unfathomable, then why do you persist in imagining that you know who you and everyone else are and, based on these fixed ideas, that you can predict your behavior and that of others? Freshness and openness and a capacity for surprise are hallmarks of mind training, which is one reason why it is so much fun....We view with bemused curiosity our various responses and habits, even when it is clear that they are not too wholesome or even sane. [We must] cultivate beginner's mind in relation to ourselves and our own experiences. To stop being such an expert on ourselves.

In other words, lighten up. Life is but a dream. But few things are more wonderful than floating gently down the stream of life. There is joy there, even in the midst of sorrow. Oh, yes, there is.

Poaching Quince

What you will need:

Two pounds quince

Four cups water

Three quarters of a cup honey

A cinnomon stick and some cloves;

Ginger or anise, if you like.

There is bitterness in my life, I won't deny it. I spend more time than I ought imagining how life would be if it were not as it is. Why must there be strife and anger and decay? Why is it so difficult for those who are in conflict to see how much better life would be in every way if they were kind? Love sounds like a cute cliche to those in the midst of hatred. But it's still the right answer.

Quince is a hard, bitter, astringent fruit that is inebidble in its natural state.

(Try a little nibble if you don't believe me).

Yet it is closely related to apples and pears.

You will need to prepare the quince with care.

The Buddha was quite clear that all things are subject to change, that all things are subject to dissolution and decay, that all things die. I tend to think of this as relating only to me and my loved ones, or at most to all sentient beings, but that's not what he said. He said, "all things". This world, too, and all the beings in it. Stones and mountains and seas. Planets and stars and galaxies. Cars and trains and ships. All things must change, break down, and die.

Peel the quince and cut them in half, but be careful if you are using a sharp knife;

It is a very hard fruit and your hand may slip.

With a paring knife, cut out the center seed core.

Slice the quince into eighths.

But I don't want it to be true, that the world must also end. Strangely enough, I feel as if I am prepared for those I love to die, and for myself. Not that I will be happy about it, but I feel deeply that it is inevitable and merely a part of the natural cycle. But the world? It seems we should have done better, and still could. (Though I admit it doesn't seem likely). This, too, is part of the teachings, that even this world must go. Just because our malfeasance may well have been a part of the process does not make this any less true.

Put the honey and spices into the water.

Place the quince slices lovingly in.

Bring the whole thing to a boil,

Then turn down to the lowest simmer you can.

Cover loosely.

What I can do is bring light into the darkest places. Where there is sadness and pain, I can bring hope and help. Where there is conflict, I can bring my own peace. I cannot cure what ails the world, but I can do what is possible to make it less worse. There is so much of goodness in the world, and I know this in my heart. Evidence to the contrary does not negate the reality of this, and in fact gives the light, by contrast, that much greater luminosity.

Simmer for thirty to fifty minutes.

After thirty minutes check the quince.

What you want is a soft fruit that is not mushy.

And, look! As it cooks, the pale, beige fruit turns a rosy pink.

It's not always easy. I must always be reminded. There seems to be such urgency to the demands life places on me and on us. Yet nothing could be more useful than a little bit of uselessness. I cannot justify to you the time I take to sit at my desk and breathe deeply. This will not appear on my timesheet; I am not sorry. When I open my heart, freedom leaps out and I will share it with you. The world may not be healed but we, at least, will not go down enveloped in the flames of anger.

After removing the quince to cool

Continue to simmer the liquid uncovered.

Let it cook down.

It will make your whole house fragrant

And, when strained, yield a delicious nectar

That is good in everything.

This is a very good idea.

Being dissed

It is sometimes difficult for me not to think apocalyptically. The environment, government ineptitude, SARS, MERS, Ebola, intractable internecine and international wars, the rise of radical factions of Islam, Christianity, Judaism, and even Buddhism; all of these threaten my equanimity and sense of peace. Not to mention the normal day-to-day ravages of aging, illness, and impending death; family struggles, traffic woes, dueling egos, and overwrought colleagues.

I have become disenchanted.

Hmm...quite a lovely word, disenchanted. What we take it to mean is that once upon a time (in a country far, far away, perhaps), things were wonderful, or meant to be wonderful, and now they are no longer so, and this is sad, sad, sad. But it seems to me that this word is much more informative than we give it credit for. What it truly means is that I was once living in a fantasy world, I was enchanted, as if by a sorcerer or a fairy queen, and now I am disenchanted, no longer blinded by fairy dust.

I have become disillusioned.

The Buddha was very clear that the cause of our suffering is our illusions, the resistance we exhibit in response to the normal vicissitudes of our lives. It is not bad or wrong that there are wars or disease, old age or death, struggles and hatreds, shame and remorse. This is the way of things—perhaps not as we would wish them to be (and there are tools we can and ought to use to change what it is possible to change)—but as they are, nonetheless. I have stepped out of my illusions into the light of reality. I have ceased (to the best of my ability) feeling resentment, hatred, and fear in response to things being other than as I want them to be.

I am disappointed.

I am no longer the self-appointed judge of what you do and who you are. I have experienced a profound realization (ah, if only I could always remember this) of the nature of things as they are, of people as they are. We are all the result of conditions which have accumulated over centuries, millenia even, to result in this one unique being. Our DNA is packed with instincts and understandings arising from the experiences of our forbears (and which are the mirror image of those who did not survive to pass their inheritance on). Our psyches are stuffed with the emotional and physical experiences not only of our lives, but of the lives of thousands upon thousands who came before us. What you bring to the table across from me is the sum total of all this, and our paths have been different, so how is it possible that I should believe you are just like me, will react and think as I do, will see the world as I do?

I no longer have this disability, this disadvantage, am no longer disaffected or disagreeable. These have disappeared, been disarmed (well, I wish). Things may be in disarray, but this no longer disobliges me. I can discontinue the behaviors that lead to distress. I need not be the source of discord, in me or in the world around me; I need not be disgruntled. There is less and less a discrepancy between my beliefs and my actions. I can discriminate between the true and the false.

I am disencumbered.

Uh oh

I don't have much time or energy for a long post today. I am feeling a little under the weather (an interesting phrase, that). I don't know if I am actually ill or just exhausted.

The honeymoon is clearly over between me and my job and now I enter into the long slog of doing the right thing, or trying to. Which is not to say I am sad doing what I am. I still think I can be of service to my patients, my workers, my coworkers, and the whole institution. But it sure does seem like no one is setting out to make it easy to do so.

I am acutely aware of who might read this blog (I post the link on Facebook, after all), so I don't want to dig myself a hole I might fall into down the road. Let me just say that the predominant characteristic of most people I encounter in a day's work is self-centered self-interest. This shouldn't come as any surprise; watching out for Number One has been the rallying cry of several generations now. Never mind that this is not a recipe for happiness or even contentment. It seems to be irresistible to think, "If I don't take care of me, there sure as hell isn't anyone else who will. So, watch out, world! If I get my needs met, you might get some of me, my loyalty, my effort, my understanding, my compassion, my heart. But if Mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy." Something like that.

This is the road to misery. I am convinced of this. But unless I remind myself constantly of this, the temptation is to be reactive and think, "Well, then, to hell with you, too!" I can't, I must not.

A Bodhisattva is (loosely speaking) a person who has dedicated his or her life to becoming enlightened for the purpose of being helpful to others. Even in the study of the Dharma it is far too easy to fall into the trap of selfish motivations, the goal-oriented, personal quest for Betterment or Freedom. The Buddha was very clear, though, that we are only as free individually as the least free among us. Because we are wholly interdependent, it is impossible for your personal freedom to be genuine if it is purchased with shackles being placed on me.

I have dedicated my life to the path of the Bodhisattva. Which is not to say I am anywhere near the point of enlightenment, believe me. But what it does mean is that I have vowed to open my heart and open my heart and open my heart. No matter what. There is no efficacious response to brutality other than kindness. There is no better response to selfishness than selflessness. There is nothing to pit against hate that is not love. I can only walk the path and hope for the best.

And, hey, sometimes I get to go away with friends on a long weekend and take photos like this one. Life can't be all bad when there are places like this.

Expectations

A confession: until recently I wasn't sitting in meditation very often. Since I was promoted, I have been spending much longer hours at work and what got sacrificed (for a while) was meditation. These things happen in the life of someone devoted to this practice, so it doesn't concern me much. At the beginning of this month I committed myself to sitting every day, went back to the habits I had until not that long ago.

Here's the thing, though: when I began sitting again, one of the reasons I did so was to seek a feeling of ease. This is what's known as a rookie mistake. I should know better. Why? Because one of the surest ways to make a mash of meditation is to place expectations on it. Meditation is only truly effective if I drop all hope for an outcome and relax into the experience of it. This was the central message the Buddha had to impart: it is not circumstances that cause us to suffer, but the idea that somehow things should be other than they are. I took up meditation again for all the right reasons and a couple of wrong ones.

And I found myself falling into the same trap that most beginning (and many experienced) meditators fall into: the belief that because I did not feel immediate relief, it was the meditation that was failing me and not my expectations that set me up for a false feeling of failure.

I have the great good fortune, though, to have studied enough of the Dharma and to have had wonderful teachers. So I know that this is irresponsible nonsense. It is true that meditation leads to a sense of freedom and greater happiness, but it is a process, not a recipe. And it only comes to pass when all hope of achieving freedom or happiness or pretty much anything else have been abandoned. Because it is the abandoning itself that yields these fruits.

Big assignment, I know. That's one of the reasons retreats are so valuable. The wonderful thing about retreat is that it accelerates this process. The outcome is not permanent peace and serenity (though at the very end of a retreat—before you re-enter the real world—it can feel like it might). The outcome is that you have touched peace and serenity, so you know it is possible to get there. Then you never want to give up seeking it (by not seeking it at all—see, it's tricky!)

It sounds contradictory, I know. There is a certain kind of magical thinking in the world that truly believes good can come to us by wishing for it rather than working for it. Does that sound curmudgeonly? It's not, really. It is, as I said, the core of what the Buddha taught. There is no fairy godmother to make your dreams come true. Knocking on wood will not protect you from calamity. And meditation will only bring you desirable things if you pursue it without expectation and with the willingness to continue putting butt to cushion day in and day out even if what arises is unpleasant.

Think of it this way: jumping out an airplane can be a wonderful experience, but only in very narrowly defined circumstances. Doing so with the expectation of soaring on your own without equipment or preparation is unlikely to end well. Being thrown out, no matter how well-equipped you might be, will also likely end in disaster. But armed with information, a good teacher, and the requisite stuff, it might just be one of the most wonderful things you can do.

Reflecting on expectation this past month also caused me to take a look at the world and see what evil can be brought upon us by this dangerous force. There is an expectation of comfort, of plenty, of being able to impose your beliefs on others, of untouchability when one is in power. There is the expectation that we can continue to do as we do while the world heats up. That we can solve the world's problems with bombs and guns (ain't worked yet).

It's not that I don't understand the world is a complicated place; I know it is. I live in the midst of contradiction and competing goods that can't all be fulfilled. I work in an environment where the challenges facing everyone (not just clients) are complex and where there is not sufficient time, ever, to fufill the many demands placed upon us.

All the more reason to break down the corrosive concept of expectation. All the more reason to sit down at least once a day and let go of all that. All the more reason to surrender to the void, open our hearts, let ourselves soar. The world is not a hopeless place and we are not inherently destructive beings. But seeking to be always satisfied makes us into that. Let's not.

Here I am!

Well, I certainly had no intention of taking the summer off from blogging, but I guess I did. It's been a very busy summer, and I suppose that explains it. Funny, though, it didn't seem all that busy, really. Still, the fact remains that it's been about nine weeks since I last wrote here. Much to my surprise. Miss me?

One of the main things I did was go on vacation with Kathy. We traveled to the Midwest (Michigan, Illinois, Wisconsin). The weather was surprisingly mild; in fact, it was hotter and more humid when we came back to Seattle than it had been in the Midwest. (The photos below are all by me, by the way).

My son and his wife (and their cats) live in Ann Arbor.

We visited the beautiful arboretum attached to the university.





We also all love cemeteries, and there's one right near the arboretum.

And celebrated Mitchell's birthday. (Hey, it's not every kid that gets the gift of British duct tape!)

We spent a day at the Detroit Institute of Art and their astonishing collection.

Detail of Diego Rivera mural at the Detroit Institute of Art

Chagal window at the Art Institute

We visited friends in Evanston and spent a day in Chicago, mostly at the Art Institute.

Carl the Wonder Dog

Chicago reflected in "The Bean"

We also went to the gorgeous Chicago Botanic Gardens.

Botanic Gardens

And visited the campus of the University of Wisconsin.

We did much else and visited with many, many friends and family members. We visited two cemeteries, three college campuses, five museums, two natural preserves, one state capital, and Mars Cheese Castle (twice). On one day we drove through four states. We had a lovely time. Thanks for asking.

If I find y

I found a piece of cardboard on the ground the other day
An almost finished sign scrawled on it that said,
If I find y

And I wondered

What would have completed that sentence?

Perhaps...

If I find you have been sleeping with my wife...
If I find your wedding ring...
If I find you dying, crying, bleeding...
If I find yogurt-covered raisins...
If I find youth...
If I find yak...
If I find young, nubile women...
If I find yesterday...
If I find your conversation scintillating...
If I find yanking on this chain causes the world to end...
If I find you on fire...
If I find yellow daffodils...
If I find you have a terminal disease...
If I find yams all hot and steamy...
If I find you all hot and steamy...
If I find yodeling annoying...
If I find years and years and years have gone by and I have no idea why or how and you have been here all that time and I am grateful and it makes me stronger and love being the only thing that matters feels less each day like a cliche and more and more like a hard, cold truth...well...then...

I will:
Run for help
Fight
Scream
Come find you
Look the whole world over for you
Search for you until I die

I will:
Love it
Love you
Cherish you
Hug it
Hold it
Treasure it
Yes
Yes, even the yak
I promise

If I find y

Deserving

I work very hard. I deserve to have time to myself. I deserve for the work flow to stop long enough for me to catch my breath. What did I do to deserve being worked so hard? At the very least, I deserve to be recognized for the work I am doing.

Wait a minute. I found out last week that I have been nominated for an award to recognize the work I am doing. I don't deserve that. I can tell there are people who resent the fact that I have been nominated and know I don't deserve it. And they are right. I mean, it wasn't my idea, guys! Hey, you don't have to convince me I'm undeserving.

But, you know, now that I think of it, it's about time someone recognized how deserving I am of praise. I deserve it more than anyone I can think of. Bring it on. You're right, I am pretty damn wonderful!

I feel at the same time pleased and guilty about being nominated for this award. It's as if I have done something illicit, gotten away with something. I don't deserve it and, "if you only knew!" (what a rebel I am in my heart). I really deserve this and, "if only you knew!" (how hard I really work). In my small mind, it's all about my deserving, when in fact awards and honors are almost entirely about the need to celebrate or recognize and are, in the final analysis, also almost entirely impersonal. But it sure is difficult to look at it that way.

************************************************************

I went to a concert last night and when I went to the bathroom, the guy standing next to me was irate (I mean really irate) because they weren't piping the concert into the bathroom. He obviously deserved to hear the whole thing, even while peeing.

I live in Seattle, which is where the most recent mass shootings happened. What did these young people do to deserve being shot? What did the shooter do to deserve being so beset by demons?

What could God be thinking? What does the universe want?

The person who cut my hair yesterday told me the story of a family friend who died suddenly of cancer at the age of 42. He was healthy and strong and nice and did nothing to deserve an early death.

I live near Mount Rainier. Every year, for years on end, people have climbed the mountain safely. Last week, six of them fell to their deaths. Why them? They did nothing wrong; they did not deserve to die.

I know many people, including very close family members, who are struggling mightily, some with physical health, some with mental health, some with money problems, some with alcohol and drug problems, and all manner of problems in between and otherwise. They don't deserve this. It's deeply unfair that they must go through this.

I worked for 10 years in intensive care units. Some people died and some people survived. Some of those who lived would rather have died; nearly all who died would rather have lived. Five-year-olds with 20% burns died and 80-year-olds with 60% burns lived. Who deserved more life?

How is it possible that good people die young and murderers live to a ripe old age? How can I have behaved so badly in my life and still thrive?

****************************************************************

But here's the thing: where did we ever get the idea that we get what we deserve? Where is it written that life is fair? Is there a misconception here? The whole idea that there is a God who predetermines what happens and allows for all this is deeply offensive to me. This is a portrait of God as asshole, and I don't buy it. Of course, I don't buy any kind of traditional concept of God, but this one just can't be right.

Closer to home spiritually is the idea of karma. I once told a friend who was going through a rough patch that she must have done something at some point for her karma to be screwed up like this. She took great offense at this, thinking I was implying that she deserved what was coming to her, when I meant exactly the opposite: how could it be logically correct that such a wonderful person was having to undergo such trials?

Yes, there is a misunderstanding, and I share in it. We think there is some sense to the way the universe doles out its deserving, but there really isn't. Yes, I believe in karma, but it doesn't mean what most people think it means. I have long thought of karma as being at the same time the most and the least important concept in all of Buddhism.

Karma is unimportant because if we are behaving well in order to avoid punishment or gain good experiences, we are in the wrong religious tradition and doing things for entirely the wrong reason. If we are seeking a particular goal by practicing the Dharma, we are not practicing the Dharma. Because the teachings of the Buddha seek to free us from striving, these imagined rules of behavior are a new enslavement.

Karma is vitally important because when we act in accord with moral and ethical principles, it changes everything for the better; in fact, the well-being of the whole world is improved. One little act of unkindness multiplied by millions of people is a huge unkindness. As one teacher put it, "you can't get away with nothin'" In my personal system of belief there is no cosmic scorekeeper, yet the universe responds to our slightest action. The response a single individual might induce may be infinitesimal, but these small impulses add up to a wave of goodness (or badness, if we choose to go that way) that can overwhelm the world. But the goodness might not come to you in particular, not in the way you wish it would, and probably not in any kind of proportion to the goodness of your deeds. The lazy jerk down the street will still probably win the lottery while you struggle to pay your mortgage.

Global warming is a great metaphor for this. We all think it's a problem (well, those of us who are still sane and awake), but we also feel that our actions are too small a part of the whole to make a difference. (Not my SUV!) Yet, it is precisely these individual actions that add up to the big problem. Thus it is with our karmic actions. When I am impatient, this ripples out to others and if they in turn are impatient and the whole world exhibits no patience, eventually we wind up with a harried world where patience has no hope of thriving. Our actions matter. On a smaller scale, we have all experienced the job where one person—sometimes not even the boss—can make for a toxic place to work. No matter what efforts we undertake to counteract this toxicity, we can't make any headway when a person with a strong will to negativity holds sway. On the other hand, one truly positive person can make the workplace a joy to inhabit.

But the idea of deserving is hard to give up. This idea that if I live well I will die well, that if I behave myself I can avoid the vicissitudes of life, or, contrarily, that if I behave badly I will be punished for it, is deeply ingrained in our world view, especially in the Judeo-Christian culture in which most of us were raised. But it just ain't so. On the other hand, it's not totally random, either. We can invite into our lives more joy or more sorrow, more peace or more chaos, more acceptance or more resistance. But in the end, we must recognize that the universe is mostly impersonal in how it acts—it's not about me, not even close. And how could it be? I may feel as if I am the center of the universe, but in fact I am a tiny mote in a brief moment of time. When I can relax into the reality of what is without trying fiercely to justify or change it, then I am free. And freedom is what we truly deserve.

Cutting the cake

A carpenter spent the morning cutting planks with his circular saw. In the afternoon he was called into the house to celebrate a birthday. Someone asked him to cut the cake. His first thought was of the morning's task of cutting, so he ran to the shop and got his saw.

The mind is a power tool. It is very useful. One could not cut the planks of a daily life without it. But it does rather make a mess of cake. And here's the thing: most of life is cake. Which is to say, most of life is not subject to being helped or influenced by the mind. But the mind is seductive. Because it is very effective in solving the mundane, we can end up living in the nearly universal hallucination that it is useful in every situation, when in fact most of the time it is either useless or makes an entire muddle of things, destroys the very cake it had intended to make more palatable.

If you are deciding what to have for dinner or driving a car or planning a wedding, the mind is essential. But if you are contemplating what your life means, the mind is almost entirely useless. One of the primary ways in which meditation is useful is as a reminder that there is more than one tool in your shed.

I had a bit of a crisis last week, and fortunately I had already arranged to speak with a spiritual adviser who has been helping me for several years. She reminded me of the many tools I have available to me, but her most important nudge was to realize that I need not stay in the Small Mind, that a broader perspective, a bigger container, is always available to me. The mind tries to solve problems it cannot solve, tries to use it's power to overwhelm that which is not responsive to this bullish approach. The mind seems to reason that, since it can solve a quadratic equation, it really ought to be able to solve a human life, to resolve the problems of others, and make sense of everything in the world. It blindly thrashes about in these swamps and (most amazing of all) never concludes that it is incapable of doing anything constructive there, despite the fact that it never does.

The essence of the Buddha's teaching is that we live in misery as long as we subject ourselves to the deluded reign of the Small Mind, but that we can be free in any moment. This amazes me. We can actually choose in any moment to be entirely free. We can reach Nirvana right now, if only we are willing to give up our addiction to that small sense of self. But, oh, how powerful the hold of that wily monster! If only I can figure this out just so, if only I persist in seeking my goals, if only I make one more push to make life perfect, I will get over the wall, come out on top, be the man I want to be and then and only then will I begin the work that will lead to freedom. But that day never comes. There is always another day of striving and then another and then we die. And in the Buddhist cosmology (whether we choose to believe in this or not), when we die we get up and do it all over again, until we finally, finally have enough experience of the futility of dependence on the Small Mind that we give it up and reach for the only thing that can give us true freedom, which is immersion in the larger consciousness that does not need to control outcomes or reactions, that can accept this moment as the only time there is, as it is.

Easier said than done, of course. I understand all of this intellectually, yet here I am. There are very few contemporary people who claim to have reached enlightenment, yet there are millions who have a profound understanding of what it would take to get there. Though I believe with all my heart that it is simply a matter of making a decision to live entirely within the here and now that leads to complete freedom, this decision is analogous to leaping off a cliff because you have been told by trusted teachers and have thoroughly come to believe you will fly when you do. It's one thing to believe it with all your heart; it's quite another to jump.

Because to make this leap is to leave this life behind. Not in the flesh, but in the mundane way I live day to day. I would never be the same. I would feel a joy beyond measure and would know no fear. I would have everything I require and want for nothing. I would be free in a way I have never known, or known only fleetingly.

But it's a lot to give up, to no longer believe I can solve the world like a crossword puzzle, to stop believing I can build a successful life on a foundation of profound thought. It can't be done, though. We can't think our way into freedom. Even the wry commentary going on in my head right now about how the Small Mind rushes in to fill every void is the Small Mind rushing in to fill a void. This is why meditation is so important. There is a mistaken impression among many people (some of them quite experienced meditators) that the purpose of meditation is to tame thought or keep it at bay, that thoughts are the enemy of lasting peace. Nothing could be further from the truth. What meditation teaches us about thought is simply that there is something other than thought. We can go entire days, weeks, months, or years—an entire lifetime, even—living in nothing but thought, to the point where we come to believe that thought and the products of thought are all there is. Meditation tells us otherwise. If we can contemplate the fact of thought and allow it to pass, there must be a consciousness that is capable of viewing thought without being thought. This is a profound and necessary realization. This way freedom lies.

Addicted

I was a little depressed yesterday and could not for the life of me figure out why. Last week was extremely stressful and it should have been a relief to have it over, and it was. But I was not at all pleased nonetheless. I really had to dig deep and use all the wiles I have been taught by the Dharma to figure out what was wrong.

Nothing was wrong.

But over the past month I have been "the man" at work. No matter what the problem, they were turning to Reid, and more often than not I had the answer. I got praise from every corner for what a great job I was doing. The clinic held together in difficult times and I had something to do with that. I felt like I glowed in the dark.

The problem, then? I had become addicted to that feeling, to being praised, admired, acknowledged. The situation was coming to an end and my role would change and all of that would go away. I was suffering from the vicissitude of praise.

In English the word vicissitude means (at least according to one dictionary) "a change of circumstances or fortune, typically one that is unwelcome or unpleasant". Since I don't read Pali, I am uncertain if this is a good translation of the original or not, but I have always felt that something more familiar like "mishaps" or "difficulties" or "misfortunes" might be a better choice. But reading this dictionary definition, I realize how accurate the word may well be, because a vicissitude is not necessarily a bad thing; it's just something different, a change of circumstance.

In the Buddhist cosmology there are eight vicissitudes: gain and loss, fame and disrepute, praise and blame, pleasure and pain. No distinction is made between the ones we deem positive and those we think of as negative. What the Buddha taught is that each of these can cause as much suffering as the others. In the words of one translation of his teachings on the vicissitudes, he says the unskillful action is that we "weclome the gain and rebel against the loss, welcome the fame and rebel against the disrepute, welcome the praise and rebel against the blame, welcome the pleasure and rebel against the pain." In our welcoming of these pleasant states, we grasp at them, seek to make them stay and grow. And our rebellion against those we find unpleasant is a grasping of its own, a seeking of the opposite or some other pleasant state, rather than an openhearted acceptance of the situation as it is.

I recognized that what was causing me to suffer was the fact that I wanted to cling to praise, to gain, to fame, to feeling good about myself, to being the Man of the Hour. And it became clear to me once again that the Buddha's teachings are not about what I should or should not do or be. He was not really a prescriber, but a describer. He told it like it is. He was telling me, over those 2000 years distance, that I was suffering because I was grasping, and that the solution was to let go of my grasping and relax into the present moment. And it worked.

I am not completely recovered from my bout of praise-sickness, but I'm getting there. The wonderful thing about the Dharma is that just the realization has the seed of freedom in it. There is nothing I need to do; I need to do nothing. Above all, I need to return to work without any grasping for a replication of the positive things I experienced last week. For one thing, stress at that level would probably kill me if sustained over weeks or months.

I am so grateful that I have the teachings to guide me and help me realize what is causing me to suffer. It is not always obvious, but I know that above all I want to be free. I am willing to give up any amount of pleasant sensation if freedom is the end result.

Who Are You?

I had a dream in which someone imperiously asked, "Who are you?" He was not satisfied with the ordinary answers: I am a man, a father, a husband, a nurse, an alcoholic, a son, a brother. "But WHO are you?" he kept insisting (and, of course, being a dream, I felt compelled to answer). More out of frustration than conviction, I finally said, "I don't know!" This seemed to finally satisfy him.

But it didn't satisfy me. I know this is a question that has been kicked around for centuries by all of the greatest minds to think about such things. Kierkegaard, Aristotle, Freud, Descartes (Cogito ergo sum: I think, therefore I am) have all struggled with this and none have come up with answers that are viscerally satisfying, even when they are intellectually sating.

Descartes

So, who am I? It seems to me that we exist as if we were scattered pieces of identity that we coalesce around a temporary sense of self that is no more real than a story we tell ourselves. In my mind this is a very literal vision, far-flung fragments of consciousness floating in a vast void. When I have need of an identity, I pull toward me (with the gravitation of a heavenly body) the pieces that will best serve me for this moment in time, only to release them back into the void when they cease to have utility.

But in this model, there must still be a central consciousness which chooses to draw the fragments together, some controlling sensibility that makes all this work worthwhile. What is this core of being?

I think it would come as little surprise to most of us that we live different lives and are different people depending on our circumstances. I know that I am regarded quite differently at work than I am at home and quite differently with my birth family than with my wife. I am not sure the Reid of work would even recognize the Reid my mother knows. I'm not even certain they would like each other much (though each would no doubt appreciate the other's sense of humor). Yet, to me there is a seeming continuity of my being from one moment to the next.

Of course, this could just all be philosophical twaddle, just a mental twiddling of my thumbs, but for one thing. This desire to make of ourselves a solid, substantial, lasting being is the very source of the suffering in our lives. And it is this suffering that stands in the way of our freedom. Mathematically speaking, then (if A=B and B=C, then A=C), it is the "selfing" in which we engage that imprisons us in modes of being inimical to our best interests, to our release from the bondage of Self.

What did the man in the dream want from me? I'm not sure I know, but his satisfaction with my final answer suggests to me that perhaps he was asking me to recognize not just that I did not know the answer but that it was unknowable. The Buddha would suggest that the answer (and the seeking of the answer) is useless and harmful, much the same as needing to know the nature of combustion before acknowledging you are on fire.

You are on fire.

Because there is such love

A girl sings and I cry. I suspect that many of you have seen this already, but it is worth taking another look. I was blown away. (Ignore the judges, if you can; they are speaking in Dutch, for one thing).

I admit to feeling a bit of skepticism lately about the essential goodness of our species. I am not really a pessimist at heart, nor am I a cynic. When I was younger, I thought cynicism was a form of intellectual sophistication, but have since come to understand that it is actually cowardice and dishonesty in disguise. I say this because a little girl can make me cry, because there truly is so much beauty in us. What species but humans are capable of such love, generosity, compassion, and grace? Well, none, of course.

But we are also the only one capable of such destruction and devastation. We war and build and burn and kill and dig and use and pollute. How can I not be disillusioned?

Because there are little girls who can sing with such feeling. Because Puccini could write such a song (it's called "O Mio Babbino Caro", by the way, and the girl's name is Amira Willighagen). Because when disaster strikes, we come together to help one another. Because every day I work with people who come to the clinic to serve those who are less fortunate and struggling. Because we can create a painting like this:

this structure:

and a building like this:

Because we give our love to each other with so much of our hearts, with all of our souls, even though we know it is risky.

Because we have faith in each other and in Powers we don't understand.

Because there are more people like me, who believe in the basic goodness of my fellows, than there are those who do not, despite all the evidence that can be ranged against such a belief.

Because the human heart and mind are capable of writing this, as John O'Donohue did:

Bennacht

(Blessing)

On the day when

the weight deadens

on your shoulders

and you stumble,

may the clay dance

to balance you.

And when your eyes

freeze behind

the grey window

and the ghost of loss

gets into you,

may a flock of colors,

indigo, red, green,

and azure blue

come to awaken in you

a meadow of delight.

When the canvas frays

in the currach of thought

and a stain of ocean

blackens beneath you,

may there come across the waters

a path of yellow moonlight

to bring you safely home.

May the nourishment of the earth be yours,

may the clarity of light be yours,

may the fluency of the ocean be yours.

And so may a low

wind work these words

of love around you,

an invisible cloak

to mind your life.

The Beginning of the Path

The beginning of the Buddha's road to enlightenment was when he was removed from the cocoon of his sheltered life as a prince of the realm and taken out into the world, where he saw three things from which he had been protected his whole life. First, he saw a person who was ill. Second, he saw a person who was old. Third, he saw a person who was dead.

It may be somewhat beyond belief to think that a young man (he was married and a father when this happened) could be sheltered to such an extent that he would never have encountered any of these things, but of course the life of the Buddha is more metaphor than fact. (We know the person existed, but the literal truth of who he was is shrouded in the mystery of thousands of years of intervening history). What we can understand from this story, though, is that all of us attempt to shelter ourselves from the reality of our lives. Rather than pretend they do not exist, though, as the Buddha's protectors asked him to do, we pretend that they should not exist.

I acknowledge that this is a subtle distinction, but only on the surface. It we were to pretend that illness, old age, and death did not exist, we would be certifiably delusional. If we pretend that these should not exist, however, we are within the mainstream of Western thought. It's not just the blatant desire to stave off aging that we see in every ad for cosmetics, not just the diets, exercise programs, and surgeries we contemplate. It's also the wish-fulfillment fantasies of "reality" television and advertising for products from colas to vacations to Viagra that will turn back the hands of time.

I know a couple who are struggling and whose marriage may not survive. I know many people who are dying from alcoholism and drug addiction. I have a friend whose son was recently diagnosed with autism. I am witnessing my parents' dissolution through the slow-motion landslide of aging and dying. Several friends have cancer. My work is with those who have one or more of the most devastating physical, emotional, and/or psychological diseases known. I myself am feeling the gravitational pull of my age, and have been for some time. I live near where the Oso landslide happened. Ferries sink, floods happen, tornadoes hit, typhoons inundate, malaria decimates, hunger eliminates, lack of clean water destroys. There is grief all around.

But here is what the Buddha discovered: it is not the events that cause harm to our souls. It is not even our reaction to these events. It is the belief that only good things should happen to us and that bad never should. It is the belief that when bad things happen we are being punished and when good happens we are being rewarded. It is the mistaken belief that any event that is not occurring right this moment has any reality at all.

It seems to me that I spend far too much time in the "Oh, no!" mode. I have things all set up to work in a certain way and then they don't. Oh, no! It's a tragedy! Or they work just great and my response is, "Yay, me!" The other, associated problem is the anticipation of the fulfillment of the expectation, what might be termed "Any minute now..." thinking. I vacillate with mind-numbing rapidity from "Any minute now..." to "Oh, no!" to "Yay, me!" to "Any minute now..." to "Yay, me!" to "Oh, no!" If I am not aware, this is how I spend my life.

As I mentioned above, the biggest problem with all this is what is lost. What is lost is this very moment. "Yay" and "Oh, no" are focused on the past (and future thinking about how I can get more of the former and avoid the latter), while "Any minute now" is entirely about the future. Nowhere in this scheme is there any room for the present moment, which is the only time there is.

Of course, I am not saying we should all go blithely through life ignoring what happens, nor was the Buddha saying this. The first of his Noble Truths is, There Is Suffering. His own definition of what he came to teach was Suffering and The End of Suffering. So, he knew, we know, that suffering is out there. But what the Buddha went on to say was truly revolutionary: that every time we push against the bad or cling to the good, we add to the suffering, that the only way to truly be free is to thoroughly and unconditionally accept the reality of each moment of our lives without any opinion whatsoever about whether it is good or bad. This sounds like oblivion, but truly isn't. Rather than ignoring the reality of what is, the Dharma encourages us to immerse ourselves in it without fear or hope.

We are all Buddhas-in-waiting. Freedom is around the corner, when we live in the moment that is in front of us, when we embrace the adder with the bride, the evil with the good, the rain with the sun, illness, old age, and death with health, youth, and life, ignorance with wisdom, faith with doubt. This is possible, in this very life. It is ours for the taking.