Saturday, May 30, 2015

Indifference?

As I was walking past a fenced-in area near our home a few minutes ago, I saw some curious behavior on the part of some geese. A flock was feeding on the grass when four geese flew in from the west. Four of the geese who were on the ground flew up to meet the four newcomers. Three of the newcomers landed with the flock, while one of them stayed in the air with the ones who flew up to greet them. These five flew around the field three times, seeming to vie for some sort of position, then flew away to the west and did not return.

I have no idea what this means. I'm sure in High Goose, or whatever language they speak, this all made perfect sense. And it occurs to me that I probably have just about that much understanding of what most humans do. I think I understand the motives of others in some significant way, but I am not at all sure that's true. Just because they resemble me in some ways and speak more or less the same language does not mean I have any idea of why they do what they do.

I work in an HIV clinic and got a call from a patient yesterday who was convinced that his wife's medical provider was actively trying to kill her. It turns out his wife had been on two different regimens of HIV medications, both of which adversely affected her liver. While this was all being sorted out, the woman had been taken off medications completely. To us, this made perfect sense; better to take the very low risk of being off the medications briefly than the very high risk of permanent liver damage. But to her husband, not being on HIV medications when one has HIV is tantamount to a death sentence. We were speaking Goose and he was speaking his language and no one had bothered to translate.

What this brings to mind for me is the concept of equanimity. This is one of the Ten Perfections taught by the Buddha. In fact, many teachers have said that if one develops the qualities of patience and equanimity, the path to enlightenment is smooth. So what is equanimity?

Equanimity is quite simply the quality of mind in which we do not react to either the negative or the positive in any long-term way. At least, that's how I define it. The fact is that we will all face the pleasant and the unpleasant, and will react to them, at least until the day we are enlightened. But our reactions need not be incorporated into our being, or even into our day. We can choose to recognize them for what they are, accept them, and move on.

I know this sounds like indifference, but the two are qualitatively as different as geese and humans. My role model for equanimity is always the Dalai Lama, who said, "I try to treat everyone I meet as an old friend." The Dalai Lama cannot be said to be indifferent; far from it, he engages with everyone and everything at all times. How can he pull this off without burning out? I also think of the sage, Amma, who is well-known for sitting for hours upon hours and hugging every single person at her gatherings who chooses to approach her. But the energy to engage with the world at this level comes from the ability to entirely open their hearts in a non-judgmental way, to not feel that this engagement in any way depletes them, that in fact they gain more than they give, by far. This is one way of living in equanimity.

The Third Zen Ancestor said, "The Great Way is not difficult for those who have no preferences." No preferences? Now, hold on, now we must certainly be speaking of indifference. Not so. What he means is that we can acknowledge that both the pleasant and unpleasant will come to us but we need not react to them with aversion or desire. They can roll on through. The Buddha himself said, "As long as there is attachment to the pleasant and aversion to the unpleasant, awakening is impossible". This is equanimity.

But how can we practice this in our day-to-day lives? How can we not get caught up in the busyness or things, or resist a reaction to a slight? And why should we even try to question the pleasure we feel when praised or when things go our way? The most important thing to recognize, it seems to me, is that everything arises and passes away. It is in our natures to believe that all bad things which come to us will last, that the unpleasantness of this moment is how it will be from now on. And it is also inherent in us to believe that we deserve to have the good in our lives and it's only natural that we would want to cling to what is pleasant. But all of this, the good, the bad, and the indifferent, is simply of the nature to arise and pass away. This is the core of what the Buddha taught. All things arise and pass away. We can appreciate them while they are here, or grieve while they are here (no need to be indifferent), but then we must let them go on their way. Because they will. Always. As will we.