When Our Hearts Are Overfull They Sing

Why do we sing? What ever prompted some precursor of the homo sapiens to open her mouth and emit a sound that had no essential communicative purpose (or perhaps it did), to belt out a song? Was this a lament? It may have been joyful. It may be that an idle moment came and with it the realization that there was one more thing this voice could do. It could have been in imitation of a bird or a beast. It was, perhaps, a beautiful mistake.

At some point, someone no doubt made the serendipitous discovery that a string stretched across a space and plucked made a pleasing noise. I would imagine they already knew that striking a hollow piece of wood with a solid one made a delightful sound. A raw voice, a plucked string, a drum. Many punk rock bands began with less.

I recently attended a transcendent performance of the Second Piano Concerto of Rachmaninov at the Seattle Symphony. I was struck not only by the essential beauty of the music, but much more deeply moved by the sheer unlikeliness of all these forces coming together in this place together to form this sound. How is it that the plucked string became the four of the violin, or, yet more remarkable, the 88 of the piano encased in a wooden box and struck with hammers? What wells and vast oceans of creativity and genius are implied by the existence of the bassoon. Have you really looked at a bassoon recently? It's come a long way from blowing over the mouth of a hollowed reed.

I also find the dedication implied by the mastery displayed by the 26-year-old pianist Behzod Abduraimov nearly unfathomable. To have a delicacy of touch while maintaining such essential power of expression is astonishing enough, but to show such range and comprehension at such a young age is awe-inspiring. Add to that the hundred or so other musicians who had to pursue their art for decades to reach this stage and meld themselves so perfectly with his playing. Multiply that by the sacrifices which must have been made by families to support these pursuits. Then step back and marvel that we value this noise highly enough to build a beautiful and expensive hall to contain it, that we will pay to see it, will go out of our way, give up a quiet night at home to witness it. I know the word is overused, but this all seems to me something of a miracle.

We plucked a string. We howled a dirge. We whiled a way an hour wondering what would happen if we carved a hole just there on this hollow stick. To us, a cello may seem obvious, but nothing about it was foreordained. It could have been otherwise. Yet there I sat, gazing at hands much like mine that could do things mine never could and never will be able to do, using the same muscles and tendons and ligaments I use for shoveling dirt to coax from a box with strings and hammers the sound of gods and angels.

I have no idea what the genesis of music is in us humans. It is surely unique to us. Though birds sing and other animals low and bellow and roar and growl and bark and purr and hiss, nothing in any other species approaches this essential surrender to complex form and function, growing in complexity as our history progresses, until the stage is set for the wonders of Mozart, Bach, Beethoven, Adams, and, yes, Rachmaninov. Oh, I know, there are those who have written the history of music; I'm sure I could learn, if I wished, precisely how we got here. But I don't care about the physical history of the thing. What causes me to wonder, to sit back in awe, with tears in my eyes, is pondering what in us holds beauty so dear that we would give such a vast quantity of our time, our effort, our tears, our failures, and our genius to making and witnessing it. That I was present at one of those nexuses of time in which all of this came together in a moment of transcendent bliss seems improbable at best. And yet I was and was transformed, as all art makes us more than what we were and ever more human and, simultaneously, divine.

The Only Power We Have

The only question these days, or so it seems to me, is, "How do we live in this world as it is?" Because it is no secret to anyone that we are in a bit of a mess. We are threatened on every side, or so it appears, and it is difficult to remain optimistic. And yet I am. I am not naively optimistic that everything is going to be O.K., because I'm pretty sure it's not, at least not by the definitions of okayness I have always held as my measure of such things. And sometimes I genuinely despair when I think of the world children being born right now will inherit.

No, my optimism has an entirely different source, one that is difficult for me to tap into from time to time, but which is much more solid and real than the cynicism it is so easy to fall into these days. It is not that everything will someday be alright, but the thought, the deeply held understanding that they could not be otherwise.

I know this can seem to be a tautology: things are as they are because they are as they are and could not be otherwise because if they could be otherwise, they would be otherwise. Well...duh. But that's not really what I mean. The deep meaning of the teachings of the Buddha (at least as far as I am capable of penetrating them with my relatively shallow insight) is that there is nothing that cannot be made worse by wishing it were otherwise. And there is no joy that cannot be ruined by wishing that it could remain forever so. The good and the bad (so-called) arise and pass away.

Each generation believes they are living in the end times. I recall very clearly the certainty we felt in the 1970s that nuclear apocalypse was upon us and the only question was when it would happen. We had to decide from day to day whether or not it was worthwhile making plans. Kathy and I had quite a serious discussion about bringing children into a world they would never see into adulthood; that is how thoroughly we believed in the end of everything. Yet that era arose and passed away. From the luxury of historical remove, we can see that world wars have a beginning, a horrid middle and a joyous end. But in the minds of those living through them there is no such certainty. They, too, have lived through the certainty of end times that nonetheless never arrived.

So, I go through my life with two key commandments for myself: the first is to practice complete and utter acceptance to the best of my ability, because pushing against the reality of what is will only increase the misery of all those around me. The second is to do my very best not to make things worse. There are actions I can take to ameliorate my small corner of global climate change. I can vote for and support those who practice tolerance and kindness. I can open my heart to everyone around me to the best of my ability (I am not very good at this, I admit—it's scary. But I try). I will assume that everything will come out precisely as it is supposed to, not in some sort of "God predestined it" way, but because, indeed, it could not have happened any other way. To presume we can change the past to create a better future is pure fantasy and is not helpful.

And I will not hate. I understand that there are many people who are doing a great many despicable things, but to practice hatred is to let those evildoers call the tune and create in me a place of hardness and rage to match theirs. Humans seem to share an odd delusion that if we practice hate toward a person or group of people, somehow our hatred will overwhelm theirs (somewhat analagous to shouting at the television to change the outcome of the ballgame). Where is the evidence for this? How exactly would that work? Do we believe Donald Trump has the answer to these questions? He seems to think he does, but I have yet to hear him give us a practical plan for how hate is going to solve anything at all, how it will not in fact make things much, much worse, than they already are.

I am not going to do these things because they are the right thing to do, even though they are. I am not going to do them in the vague hope that my love will spread all over the world and make things better, though it might. I am going to do these things because it is the only decent, respectful, openhearted, constructive, proper way to live, and in the end, it is the only decent, respectful, openhearted, constructive, proper way to die, if that is what is to come sooner rather than later.

What else can we do? How can we do anything but love? What other power do we have?

A Year of Metta

I have been pondering the metta sutta recently. For those of you not familiar with the teachings of the Buddha, metta can be translated in several different ways, but most commonly as lovingkindness. And a sutta is simply a teaching. So, the metta sutta is a teaching on lovingkindness delivered by the Buddha.

One of the things that led me to consider this sutta is that quirk of human character which makes all of us more or less selfish. I know this sounds like a criticism, but what I mean is that we are hardwired for survival of ourselves as organisms, and that while essentially no effort is required to think in this way, quite a bit of effort is required to think altruistically.

This fact is not a problem, really, at least not for the most part. Of course, taken to an extreme, this overarching philosophy is the source of all war and the degradation of the environment, since we tend to think rather narrowly about personal or tribal survival at the expense of more (literally and figuratively) global concern. But on a day to day basis, thinking in this way does not really create much havoc.

But it doesn't create much harmony, either, and I have been wondering if my own life and the lives of those around me might not be made considerably more harmonious if I focused my attention on ways of serving others as my first consideration. It's not that I'm some insensitive bastard in my accustomed mode, mind you, but I do find myself rather narrowly focused on what is going to get me through the day, rather than how I can make your life simpler or easier.

Thus the metta sutta. It seems to me that this simple teaching provides the guidance I need to make this shift in thinking and acting in the world.

One quick word on the name of this sutta. Metta can apparently be translated in several ways. I don't speak Pali, of course, but a teacher I trust (Christina Feldman) has chosen the term unconditional friendliness as the translation she prefers. She has said that the term love can be quite a loaded term for many of us, and kindness a bit vague. On the other hand, unconditional friendliness seems to her (and to me) very specific and describes a way of being in the world to which we can all aspire. Thus, from here on out, when I speak of metta, it is this translation I will use. You probably won't see me write the word lovingkindness in this blog for quite some time.

Not that I dislike the word itself, but I do feel it has become code for some sort of vague, warm, fuzzy feeling toward the whole world and all the creatures in it. I'm not sure that's what the Buddha had in mind. We can all generate happy thoughts about bunnies. What metta asks of us is much more stringent. Can you, it asks, feel unconditional friendliness toward everyone and everything? Toward nuclear reactors and ISIS? Toward those who practice hatred, greed, and violence? Toward people who have done the deepest damage to you in your life? Rather than the casual generation of good vibes, metta may well be among the hardest work any of us will ever do.

What I am proposing is to make metta the heart of my practice for a full year. I have taken such vows before (not metta vows, but others) and find that a year is a good test of my discipline. Also, after doing just about anything for a year, it usually becomes an integral part of who I am. That is the hope. Because I distrust the whole idea of New Year's resolutions (too often bogus, too often broken by January 15), I propose to begin this on Decmeber 1st, which is, of course, in a few days.

I'll keep you posted. In future posts, I will also write a bit more about the sutta itself so that you (and I along with you) can figure out a bit of what this vow means. What have I gotten myself into? I guess we'll see.

Observations IV

Yes, it's that time once again, time for me to put down in pixels the observations I have been collecting all year to share with my small but extraordinarily erudite audience. This is, as you no doubt astutely observed, the fourth iteration of this compendium. If you really have nothing better to do, follows the links to the first one, here's the second one, and here the third. Enjoy!

? I really hate it when I think I might be having an epiphany or an emotional breakthrough of some sort and it turns out that the barista gave me caffeinated shots instead of decaf. And...here comes the crash!

? It's a fun kind of strange to listen to the Yeah Yeah Yeahs while reading a Marilynne Robinson novel.

? Somewhat against my better judgment, I think Amazon Prime is pretty damn cool.

? I can't be the only one who thinks we need to declare it internationally illegal to refer to any and all scandals as "Something-gate". Watergate was over 40 years ago, folks. Time to find a new metaphor, already.

? It is also time to declare a moratorium on geese in poetry. A lovely metaphor the first couple hundred times, but no more, please, no more. I'm beggin' here.

? I know it's hardly an original observation, but the rudeness on all forms of transit (even my work shuttle) really is amazing. The young woman sitting next to me has her bag sitting next to her, so she and the bag take up 2/3 of the seat. Always makes me wonder what exactly people are thinking (if they are).

? If I change the spelling of cacophony to cacaphony does it mean confusedly talking shit?

? What's so magical about 10000 feet that I can do stuff in a plane there that I couldn't do at 9999?

? Why do airlines leave me alone from boarding to landing and then turn on the bad music?

? Why is it called "losing" your virginity?. I didn't lose mine. I know precisely where it got to.

? I have come to loathe all preference based on aggression, including seating on Amtrak and Southwest Airlines. And whether you sit or stand on the bus. Makes me feel like a shit if I participate and I often suffer if I don't.

? I find it very odd that some people are now routinely carrying their tablets to take photos.

? Your Fit Bit is lying to you. I know this will annoy the approximately four gazillion users of this gadget, but what you tell me it tells you does not align with reality, at least not in this universe.

? Why do so many of those pull down paper towels in public bathrooms only work well when your hands are dry?

? Why do fans so often have the high setting next to the off switch? Doesn't it make more sense to have the order be Off-Low-Medium-High?

? What are the ethical and traffic flow implications of merging into a lane as soon as you know you need to versus continuing on in the lane that is ending as long as you can? There seems to be an ongoing disagreement about this among drivers. I am one of the former, and used to think that the latter were just jerks, but now I wonder if they have a point and we are just wasting perfectly drive-able road by getting over so soon. Discuss.

? Two questions for baseball fans: if we can make a radical change like the infield defensive shift, why can't we abandon having the first baseman hold the runner on if that runner is of absolutely no risk to successfully steal a base? This practice leaves the whole right side of the infield vulnerable, and for what? Second question: maybe I am just doing the math wrong, but isn't making a diving catch almost always foolish? Is a single out really worth the risk of a bad injury that might take you out of the lineup for weeks or months? Yes, yes, if it's the last out of the World Series or will preserve a perfect game, dive away. But a routine inning with no one on base? Let that sucker drop, my friend. O.K., the rest of you can tune back in now.

? When did it become socially acceptable to play your loud music wherever and whenever you wish? This seems to be a recent phenomenon and from the few people I have asked to turn it down, it seems to be more than just a selfish whim. It feels more like some sort of deeply personal empowerment project. Did I miss the memo?

? I propose the formation of an organization, Seeking Civility In Social Media, S.C.I.S.M., pronounced "schism". Oh, don't worry, I know it's a lost cause. But wouldn't it be nice if there was a group of us serving as a soft voice reminding people that one may disagree without being disagreeable? That debate that seeks to exclude by invective all those who disagree is no debate at all, but leads only to back-patting, narrowly focused, self-reinforcing, delusional groups like the Tea Party and anti-vaccine zealots?

? Isn't it odd how heating water becomes silent just before it boils?

? Really? The brilliant founders of Google couldn't come up with a better name for their new parent company than Alphabet? Seriously?

? How do people who drive ice cream trucks keep from that music driving them crazy?

? I don't know about your town, but in mine, if you want to give something away, you leave it on the curb. Public service announcement: NO ONE wants any T.V. or monitor that's not a flat screen and most certainly do not want your potentially lice- or bedbug-ridden couch or mattress. No one. Take my word for it. Just get rid of them.

? I could not be more supportive of those who wish to leave their genders undefined, but it is, in my opinion, a linguistic crime for a person of this description to ask to be referred to by the plural pronouns they and them. It just doesn't work. Are we not clever enough to come up with something better?

OK, that's it for another year! Now the collection begins again for another episode in the long-running serial, Reid's Somewhat Interesting Observations. I'll bet you can hardly wait 'til next year! Thanks for reading.

Aspiration

I read an interesting article in the New York Times the other day, titled Can We End The Meditation Madness?. What the author objects to is that some people attribute to meditation things it cannot deliver and load it up with expectations of outcomes, while pushing others to join in the crusade. This can be a serious disservice to both meditation and the practitioner. I couldn't agree more.

On the other hand, it certainly isn't up to me or anyone else how one chooses to use meditation. It might even be useful, I suppose, in becoming a better thief or murderer. Meditation is a tool. I can use a crowbar to help build a house, to break into a house or to kill the householder. It is not the crowbar's fault if I choose to use it unskillfully.

This gets to the heart of something that is integral to Buddhist practice, but easily misunderstood: the characteristic of aspiration. This article addresses the difference skillfully. Aspiration, in the Buddhist sense (the translation of the Pali word sankappa), does not mean desiring, or focusing on a particular outcome. This last point is of great importance.

The problem with aspiring to an outcome in meditation is that we then feel we can determine whether or not our practice is successful or unsuccessful. We have criteria by which we can judge the experience. And, of course, this is fine if you choose to use this tool to do these things; reduce stress, for instance, or become more mindful. But one must realize that these are extremely short-term aspirations and have the potential to sell short the benefits of meditation. There is also a good chance that if the practice does not fulfill your expectations in a fairly brief period of time or (heaven forbid!) actually exacerbates the problem, you will abandon meditation altogether as a failure. To do so is to risk missing the view from the top of the mountain because there are a few rocks on the trail leading up to it.

Actually, it is quite common for meditation, when done correctly, to add to your stress and struggle. This happens because you are systematically removing the blinders from your experience. As such, it's not that difficulties increase but that your awareness of them is greater. Which is actually a gift, because it is only to those things of which you are aware you can apply the principles that will give you freedom from them.

Once again, though, I must say that it is not for anyone to determine how you use these tools. Jon Kabat-Zinn, for one, has made a career of teaching mindfulness-based stress reduction and has helped many people to come to a place of peace with what is going on in their lives. I wish him and his acolytes all the best, and hope for them that this leads to joy. But this would not be enough for me. I am in this thing for the long haul (in the Buddhist cosmology it may even take several lifetimes). That's OK with me. I understand that true stress reduction comes with the wisdom derived from long-term practice of these ways of being in the world. I know that peace of mind is not the outcome of 15 minutes on a cushion, but of a lifetime of practice and study and aspiration to becoming one among the many Bodhisattvas who seek enlightenment in the hope that we can bring joy and harmony to all sentient beings and the entire universe. I know, this seems like something beyond the possible, and so it is if thought of as something achievable by one person in a single lifetime, not to mention in just a few days, weeks, or months. But even to merely point our hearts and minds in that direction is to move toward peace and well-being for all. Surely, that is something worthy to which we can aspire.

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Did I Mention That The Buddha Wasn't A Fat Guy?

This is the last post in a three-part series about the food choices I am making and how that all fits in with everything else in my life (big topic!). The first part is here and the second here. You might want to read those to make more sense of what I am writing about in this post.

I am not suffering, I hope that is evident. I remember before I gave up other of my addictions (alcohol and tobacco in particular), one of the primary reasons I gave myself for not wanting to stop was that I would no longer have any fun, that these things were what gave me pleasure and without them my life would be dull and featureless. I felt much the same way about my food indulgences.

I was just speaking with someone yesterday who was curious about what I ate and I began to list off the things which I no longer consume: alcohol, drugs, tobacco, caffeine, sugar and all sweeteners, almost any processed food, nearly all fried food, meat, gluten, and most oils other than olive oil. I eat dairy sparingly. What a  bore my eating life must be!

But it isn't. Just as with alcohol and tobacco, I was kidding myself that these foods gave me pleasure. I should also point out that I did not give these things up all at once. I have been a vegetarian for nearly 20 years. I quit smoking 25 years ago, drinking 16. I haven't indulged in any drugs for even longer. And every choice I made regarding these things was made from a desire to avoid suffering. I have no impulse to be a purist, I really don't. But each of these had in some way or another caused me pain or difficulty.

As mentioned in an earlier post, one of the magical moments in following the elimination part of this dietary plan is the discovery, when foods are added back, how much they have been causing difficulties. My sister-in-law, who is also following this plan, went through a particularly stressful event not long ago and decided to treat herself to some ice cream. A lot of ice cream. Though previously she would not have attributed the consequences to the sugar therein, she had given it up entirely prior to this and knew that the body aches and pains and other bodily struggles had to be because of it. It was for her a revelatory moment.

But here is the most important thing: I am enjoying eating more than I ever have. In the absence of sweeteners, fresh fruits and vegetables taste more flavorful than ever. Grain salads (gluten-free, of course) are delicious to me. A dish full of (sugar-free) yogurt is a treat. A slice of good cheese is a delight. I made an eggplant Parmesan the other day that was to die for. I don't miss chips or ice cream (well, not much, anyway), chai tea lattes, donuts, cakes, pies, or cookies. I don't miss the digestive issues, the body aches, the tiredness, the malaise, the hangovers of indulgence. I feel better than I have in years. And I am no longer a fat guy.

And isn't this the very nature of what the Buddha meant when he talked about the end of suffering? At one point he said (I am paraphrasing) that what we believe gives us pleasure is precisely what causes suffering and what we believe causes suffering is what leads to freedom, which is the ultimate pleasure. While we pursue the short-term satisfaction of desire, we remove from our lives all possibility of Nirvana, which is not a place but a state of being that can only be found through concerted effort. But this effort is not that of conforming to a certain ideal. Rather, it is an internal investigation to find what is true for each of us. What Dharma means, after all, is Truth. And the only way we can find this Truth is to look closely at what causes us to suffer and what causes those around us to suffer.

I know this all doesn't sound like much fun. I wish I could convey to you more clearly that it is, in fact, the ultimate joy. It is as if we are surrounded by beauty and looking down at the dirt wishing for beauty. All we need to do is look up. Look up.