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.

ADHD? OCD? OK? LOL! TMI? tl;dr

I read a fascinating article in the New York Times last week about autism and how useful the specific characteristics of the autistic person can be to some businesses. It is a mind-bending speculation to think that the recent uptick in incidence of autism might not just be an increase in identification of those who are autistic and others on the same continuum (Asperger's and such) or an insidious development at all, but might actually be a step in the evolution of the species in response to our predilection for technological advancement. This thought is certainly not original; google "autism as human evolution" and you will see a plethora of articles on this subject. (In passing, I should note that due to the somewhat antisocial nature of this disorder, it is difficult to see how those on this spectrum have a reproductive advantage, which would be necessary for this development to truly be an evolutionary change. It has been demonstrated to be hereditary, however, at least to a certain extent).

Now, I know it's de rigueur to consider oneself somewhere on this spectrum, just as a decade or so ago to declare one's affiliation to ADHD was popular and even now OCD remains a somewhat attractive label. One wonders why we should be so quick to embrace these labels, and to do so fairly inaccurately. My brother was diagnosed with ADHD (then simply called hyperactivity) when he was quite young (he was taking Ritalin when it was still experimental) and his life has been made much more difficult by it. Why would we choose to co-opt suffering to ourselves? Why, for that matter, would we want to diminish the adversity faced by those who actually have a disorder by appropriating it in a (more or less) lighthearted fashion? I suspect the explanation is that having a label on which to blame our more antisocial or obnoxious characteristics is comforting and supplies us with a built-in justification for unwonted behavior. ("Oh, honey, I threw out your cockroach collection in a fit of OCD; I'm so sorry. But you know how it goes!")

Which is all by way of me doing precisely what I have just described! Here's the thing: I felt a frisson of identification when I read the Times article. I have quite often in my adult life felt one step removed from the social interchange that seems to come so easily to others. Of course, I know how dangerous it is to "compare my insides to other peoples' outsides," as the saying goes. It could just be that I am introverted (another label, eh?), which I certainly am. But the spectrum characteristic of being contented with repetitive tasks also feels mighty familiar. There is a particular list I maintain at work that I know would be enormously tedious for most people but for me is a true pleasure, and I become faintly irritated when interrupted while working on it. (Maybe I'm OCD? Heh). Just yesterday I spent several hours connecting a new television and all of the wires and cables that go along with having associated electronic components. Loved it. Perhaps I'm just patient.

Another thing: I marvel when witnessing my fellow humans engaging in lighthearted conversation that then, by all appearances, leads to association, which yields, in some cases, real friendship, wherein they voluntarily spend time together. Just being together. Strange. I don't mean to make light of this; I truly do marvel at these behaviors. They seem as odd to me as spontaneous human flight. I would be about as astonished if you stepped off a cliff and just kept walking on air. I scratch my head in perplexity when I witness unforced bonhomie. My interpersonal relationships tend toward banter, which serves the purpose of distancing me from any lasting connection to my fellow humans.

From an article describing Asperger's syndrome:

They are not content to be alone all the time and they long to form friendships with others. Since they cannot read social or emotional cues well, they come off as insensitive, pushy or strange, yet have very little insight into how they are perceived. They have very little idea how to make a friendship work. [Emphasis mine].

Hmmm.

Don't get me wrong; I really do like being around people and can hold my own in social discourse. I am even well-liked in my small social circles; I know this. I have a close, loving, intimate relationship with my wife and with many of my family members. Yet I am also aware of a certain arm's-length orbit around me that keeps most of those I know comfortably unknown unless I make a vigorous effort to bridge that chasm. I also don't want to give the impression that I have no true friends or intimacy. I have both, though these are select and few. Perhaps this is just as it should be, I don't know. But sometimes I envy the (seemingly?) easy affinity I see around me, the crowd of loved ones some people seem to effortlessly gather around them, to attract as adroitly as politics attracts fools. I have even tried to make myself more like a person to whom this might happen, without much success. Oddly enough, I have quite warm relations with a handful of relative strangers I encounter on my round of errands every Friday—the lady at the dry cleaners, the produce manager at my favorite store and others. I love to listen to their stories and even, sometimes, their troubles. Yet, of course, this makes its own kind of internal sense—they are not likely to become my actual intimates and our discourse is limited by time and circumstance to a narrow band of my attention.

I belong to an organization that emphasizes "fellowship". People go around talking about how much this means to them and how they couldn't survive without it. It is something they seem to have gained purely as a perquisite of being a member and take entirely for granted. I once again shake my head in wonder. I have even out-and-out asked what the hell this is all about and how one goes about getting some of this fellowship stuff. I get queer looks. But in this same organization I had the experience just recently, when all this fellowship blather (so it seemed to me) was going on and I was feeling on the outside once again, of wanting to raise my hand and ask, "Is it O.K. if I'm happy anyway?"

That's the thing. Overall I'm pretty happy. I know what your next question will likely be: then why worry about it? I don't know, it just looks like fun to have that warmth and intimacy all around me. Maybe that's only for a certain type of person. I was never destined to be a great basketball player, either; that doesn't make me less-than, just a person with specific abilities, talents and characteristics, none of which are particularly well-suited to a career in basketball. Or to widespread familiarity. I think of it as "the Brussels sprouts phenomenon". I like Brussels sprouts. Some people (OK, most people) can't stand them. I am convinced that I actually taste something different than they do. I don't like walnuts at all, but most people love them. My brother can't stand the taste of any citrus fruit. My wife dislikes anise or black licorice flavors and there are few tastes I like better. For all that we humans are very, very similar to each other in many ways, we also have these quirks of difference that make us interesting. Perhaps my way of relating is like this.


I love deeply where I love. I bestow my affection not easily but thoroughly. I am kind much of the time. I care deeply about the suffering of others. My heart soars in the presence of compassion, openheartedness, altruism and generosity. I am passionately devoted to the Dharma and other philosophies that emphasize kindness and love. I give of myself where I can. I am loved. This is enough; it is enough.