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.

Tidal Wave

My, hasn't life gotten interesting, though?

I have been very busy the past month, which is why I haven't been blogging as much. My job is becoming more intricate and demanding by the day. I still visit my California family every other month (I went last weekend) and of course there are all of the other demands life places on one. I used to have every Friday off (never knew how good I had it!) but don't any longer. Not that I'm complaining; this is all good stuff. The job is demanding, yes, but it is a new challenge and one I am enjoying. I love my family and feel comfortable and loved when I see them. Life is grand, really. Just busy.

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I try to follow the news of the world fairly closely while taking care not to become too involved in the emotional content of it. This is, as most of us understand, a very difficult balancing act. I don't want to hide my head in the sand, but also believe that engaging my emotions in every tragedy that comes along (and there are so many, aren't there?) is the road to burnout and ineffectiveness.

One thing I have begun to notice, though, is the capacity we as humans have to compartmentalize and in some cases wholly reject what have been adroitly called "inconvenient truths". I am amazed at our ability to keep calm and carry on no matter what the horrifying reality around us. One of the reasons I so enjoy dystopian fiction and film is the vision the artists behind these works have of humans moving forward to the best of their ability, surviving even in the starkest emotional and physical landscape. Books such as Riddley Walker, The Postman, and The Road, to name but a few, have impressed me with their portrayal of our species as both survivors and the perpetrators of horrors, including those horrors that brought about the apocalypse to begin with. We are both the wisest and most foolish of animals.

When reading the news, what stands out with great clarity for me is that the environmental situation could not be worse. It is hard to believe that my grandchildren's grandchildren will even have a world in which to live. I am very hesitant to even bring this up. I know this is not a topic most people want to consider, which is, of course, my every point. I have no desire to use this blog to grind any political axes. Rather, I am fascinated with what makes it possible for us to keep going in the face of such imminent catastrophe.

If there were a tidal wave coming, most of us would turn and run. This might well be a futile act, considering the speed and power of such phenomena, but we would make the attempt. The effects of environmental degradation are no less certain or powerful, they just move more slowly. Yet we continue to care deeply about things. We do not panic. Are we merely deferring consideration of the facts, or is there something deeper at work?

I read the New York Times every day. I scan the headlines and dip into any article that interests me. In this way I can stay abreast of what's going on without becoming overwhelmed. And with an eye to how much of an emergency our environmental situation is, every day I am amazed by how much we can continue to care about things, about cars and food and sports and books and plays and films and politics and family and friends and bikes and running and fun and each other. We do not despair. Many of us become depressed, of course, but it seems to me we are a species of optimists. We are not built for giving up or giving in.

I find great hope in this. True, much of our doggedness might in fact be denial. We may be assuming that human ingenuity will once again come to our rescue. Or we may have the fatalistic perspective of "eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we die". But it seems to me much more likely that we are beings who have hardwired into us the need to get on with the business of living our day-to-day lives, love those close to us, eat good food, continue to learn and to grow, have a bit of fun, have a good night's sleep, then get up and do it all over again.

We don't seem to have the power, for the most part, to think in grand terms, to consider the larger context for any appreciable length of time. After all, there are dishes to be done, clothes to wash, sons and daughters to love, lovers to embrace, gardens to sow. How the great world spins is the purview of the philosopher and the saint. What energy I have I will devote to those things in my immediate world over which I have some control or to which I am devoted. Of course, I will reduce my car trips and recycle my newspapers. I will vote for those who have the best interest of the planet at heart. But then I need a nap.

Far from any of this causing me despair, I find in it the seeds of hope. We love, we live, we move forward, we laugh and carry on. Perhaps the end is near. Perhaps not. We will hold our loved ones near and hope for the best. Really, what else can we do?

I am not I

I recently read a very good book about Israel. I won't go into that whole mess here, but if you are interested in what I have to say about the book, you can see my review here.

I have not been meditating as much as I would like recently. Life has become very busy.

Our bodies are entirely dependent on the health of our microbiome. There is a very good article in the New York Times about this, and about how antibiotics—those we take and perhaps those in our food—might be at least part of the cause of the obesity epidemic in the United States.

I had to fast for 12 hours Thursday night and Friday morning so I could have my blood drawn Friday morning.

I have become more and more amazed how much time, thought, and effort must go into the maintenance of a single human life.

What in the world do all these things have to do with one another? Well you might ask.

The Buddha spoke of interdependence as being the core of all his teachings. I remember when one of my teachers first introduced this topic by saying flatly, "You don't exist". I can easily challenge this statement, naturally. I can hit you in the head and then ask you why your head hurts if I don't exist. But that, of course, is not what my teacher meant. The Buddha's philosophy is unique and challenging in many ways, but this may be where it is most difficult and by far the most elegant. Because it's true: we don't exist. Not in any substantial or lasting way. And we cannot exist alone.

The odd thing is not the assertion that we do not exist as discrete beings but that we have ever thought we did. From the very start of our earliest precursors to this very day we are entirely dependent on plants to supply the atmosphere with oxygen, to take just one example. We would never have evolved as these particular beings had there not been plants. Period. We might have become some sort of nitrogen-processing organisms, but the nature of the beings we are is predicated on our ability to use oxygen and the presence of that oxygen is predicated on the existence of other beings. So, too, with every other constituent of our bodies. We are the product of stars, comets, bacteria, slime mold, flowers, and dinosaurs. The blood of emperors and slaves flows through me.

When we war with each other, when we claim territory as "ours" and not "theirs", we have entirely lost sight of our interdependence. Entirely aside from my opinion about the disposition of Palestine and the right of existence for Israel, not to mention the Russian claim to hegemony over Ukraine, when I have sufficient perspective to do so, I find myself astonished that we are still in such bellicose relation to one another. These days, it is amply evident that what will remove us from this earth is most likely either climate change or nuclear war, yet we focus on territorial disputes and health insurance. Never has it been so evident that we are interdependent than right now. If we do not take concerted and unified action to solve both of these problems, we won't last another generation.

My meditation practice is limited by the time I have available to sleep, which is impacted by the new position I have at work, which came to pass because of an injury to a co-worker. A relationship that ended years ago caused enough disruption in a girl's life that her mother, another of my co-workers, had to quit her job to spend more time with her daughter. The cruelty of a father, the coldness of a mother, rejection by a lover, failures in third grade and successes in high school—all of these influence the people who come to work where I work and limit how effectively they can work and therefore how much time I must spend there and therefore how much sleep I get and therefore how much I can meditate. Interdependence. In this context, I am interdependent with people who died before I was born and others I will never meet.

Need I say more about our microbiome (the internal microbiotic environment of our bodies, our gut in particular)? We are entirely interdependent with these billions of beasties. We would not have evolved to this state without them and would die overnight if they ceased to exist.

I take for granted how easily I am able to maintain this body's health. I also assume that my nice, healthy mind can function independent of what else goes on. Nothing like a 12-hour fast to put the lie to assumptions like these. I was irritable, could not think well, was fumbling and clumsy. It is astonishing how quickly we begin to fall apart without food. And from whence does this food come? I didn't grow it, harvest it, process it, ship it, stock it, or sell it. Literally hundreds of interlocking actions go into my breakfast. And if you consider that each being in the chain of my breakfast (cow, farmers, soil organisms, harvesters, processors, packagers, truckers, stockers, clerks, managers, executives, maintenance crews to keep all the machines and processes running, mechanics, oil rig workers, fuel processors and sellers, water engineers, research chemists, flatware and bowl manufacturers, and on and on) has its own interlocking chains of interdependence, then literally millions—billions, perhaps—of beings provide me with my breakfast, without which I am am mess before I get my blood drawn at 8:00 A.M.

But the Buddha's message, you will recall, was not one of chastisement; he was not trying to remind us where we come up short. His was and is a philosophy of freedom. He taught first of all about suffering, but only to teach the end of suffering. And the end of suffering is the end of delusion. All we must do is cease believing that which isn't so. And why not? Our believing in untruths does not make them exist—they still don't. So why not give them up?

That's the amazing thing about the Buddha's teachings: we have the choice to be entirely free today, right now, in this moment, and forever. We can choose that right now. Why do we not? Because we have so thoroughly incorporated into our consciousness the lies: that we are independent, free-standing, individual human beings with no need of anything or anyone else, nonetheless the whole of existence. We believe the lie that the problems of the world are not our problems because they are not currently on our doorsteps (they will be). We believe that the suffering of others is separate from our suffering. We believe that we deserve only good things and that when bad things happen something has gone wrong. And we believe that biggest lie of all—that we exist. But freedom awaits those of us who know that our molecules are only ours for the briefest of time, that we constantly interchange who we are with the rest of the world and they with us. We have no choice in the matter; it is who we are. But we do have the choice of whether or not we suffer.