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.