Park Dreams

  “The assertion about individual marks that really have no existence, concerns the distinctive marks as perceived by the eye, ear, nose, etc., as indicating individuality and generality in the elements that make up personality and its external world; and then, taking these marks for reality and getting attached to them, to get into the habit or affirming that things are just so and not otherwise.

Gautama, Buddha. THE LANKAVATARA SUTRA (pp. 11-12). Independent. Kindle Edition. 

  The outdoor park meditation was beautiful tonight. When I was meditating, I felt a sense of oneness with the sounds and was able to connect with them all equally--the rumbling of underground trains, the sound of children laughing, a violin playing classical music, and so on. What a vibrant and living community I am living in. I soaked in the sounds with a kind of innocence that brought me back to summer.

    We never step on the same path twice, and the park already seems to be a dream to me. Interacting in any situation, it's best to take things in a relaxed way that always brings us back to the present. Fashi recommended a method of taking one part of the body and focusing 80% of the body and 20% on the environment.

     It takes a lot of practice to steady the mind and focus on the moment. But when I reflect on it, all the sentient beings are there to support us on this journey. Even when I feel that it might be otherwise, I know that everything around us is a reminder of the three seals: impermanence, no self and emptiness. If we are able to see this aspect in all things, then joy will naturally arise in our minds. On the other hand, to affirm that things are "just so" and "only just so" is to buy into the mistake that there are fixed identities and realities.

 

Courage of Foolishness

    Sometimes I do foolish things at work--doing things that don't really have a value to anyone, except a few managers and the like. I do foolish things by adhering to outdated principles, or blindly following my own habits, or even in doing "nothing at all". Foolishness is the opposite of wisdom, and for many, it can be the greatest source of suffering. However, I would like to suggest that sometimes there is a courage in continuing to be foolish or absurd, while also keeping an eye on something that can be improved or advanced.

   I listened to a video by Master Sheng Yen last week where he talked about the concept of reasonableness in Buddhism. Master Sheng Yen suggests that many of our ideas of what is "reasonable" are simply passed down from previous generations and are the influence of culture rather than actual reasoning. We do things that seem reasonable when, in fact, they are based on taboo, prejudice or even superstition. Anything that worked well in the past can suddenly mean nothing in the present, and may not achieve our original aims, so I have to choose between staying the course or innovating. I think what Master Sheng Yen tried to say (as I understand it) is that it's not always easy to distinguish custom from reason, and reasonable might just mean law-abiding and conforming for the sake of harmony with the greater society. This doesn't mean we are always acting in the most effective or best way.

   But then there is also the "foolishness" of risking oneself. That is: doing something that people may not like or approve of, but standing firmly on it because we have the confidence of knowing we did the best we could and it's right for us. This doesn't mean being inflexible, but it means being able to stand in one place and allow criticism of what we have created. There isn't always a need to apologize for this state of foolishness, and it may end up becoming wisdom in the end.

    Sometimes we don't know why things are happening, but we might reflect: things happen for mysterious reasons that will make sense at a later time, especially when the mind is calm and more settled. It's terrible to make hasty decisions in a split second when the mind is vexed and we are upset or just frazzled and stressed. In those moments, we might feel that staying still is dangerous and risky (even foolish, perhaps) but on the other hand, it's the only thing we can do before we can find a better path in our profession and in our creative life.

Illusions of Security

  I have been reflecting recently on the trade wars and looming possibility of recession. I have realized how mistaken to think that one could retire early or even rely on my present employment to protect me from the possible crisis ahead.  Many people will lose jobs, and I have even been thinking, there is not much difference between myself and someone who is unemployed or homeless. Is there anything that I can rely on for a source of security? I don't think such a thing as security really exists in a true way; it's only fleeting and illusory.

    People who delve with the stock market are kind of playing mental games. They think they know how to bank their money to maximize returns, but it's really a gamble that is dependent on a great many things. There is never any guarantee in life that people will gain in the long term, and I think it's silly that I would imagine myself retiring or even deriving a sense of security from the number of years I have worked, let alone the money in the bank. 

     And then I thought, since this over-reliance on external forces is quite foolish, I must turn inward to find a sense of ontological security, or security simply in being present, or being in the moment. If I am ever going to be homeless, I should at least be a joyful homeless person--leaving behind my sense of failure and regret, to face the wind and rain with a sense of peace in the present. Even if I am starving, I should also enjoy the sensation of hunger rather than being afraid of it. And in that sense, I will find a deeper sense of security as opposed to these illusory dog-chasing-tail stock markets.

  The idea of being able to rest from work is probably not a good idea to adopt. We should always expect to work until our dying day, and at least look for work. After all, work is our contribution to society. If we don't contribute our value to society, then we are simply waiting for ground zero, and this is not true peace or happiness.

    I have given up the hope of retirement. I will struggle and work until I die. I vow to at least be cheerful and take life one moment at a time, not worrying about the future. After all, the idea of ever being financially secure is essentially crazy since all of money is tied to others, and what happens to the world will happen to us in turn. We are only really riding the waves, and so we should never put hope and trust in them.

   To try to hope and desire an "easier" life is really only to invite suffering. There is simply no easy life, so the best way is to have an attitude that I will die working or die trying to look for meaningful work.

Anatomy of Kindness

 In my research on a possible upcoming book about Loving Kindness practice, I came across Kevin Griffin's book Living Kindness. In fact, I read this book before, but I believe it's one of my favorite treatments of the subject. Rather than seeing loving kindness as some kind of touchy feely prayer that elevates a person to a blissful state, Griffin grounds his ideas of loving kindness in real lived experience, without sentimentalizing it by making it only a fanciful thought. In fact, he provides many examples that show the difficulties that many people face when trying to extend loving kindness to all beings everywhere including those we have difficulties with.

  During my walk home yesterday, I asked myself, what makes for kindness exactly? Being an analytical sort, I am naturally one to try to break down something into discrete parts. I believe these parts could be described as "respect for complexity" "openness", "curiosity", "trust", and "humility". To summarize these points:

1) Respect for complexity: rather than concluding that something is the result of one thing (which usually leads to an attitude of blame) or results in one thing (which usually entails regret), looking at things with kindness means taking a more holistic approach and seeing that all results from interconnected and complex situations. In other words, a kind mindset steers clear of dualistic or hard-lined thinking, opting for a softer and more flexible approach to viewing situations

2) Openness entails an ability to see and feel things the way they really seem and feel, as opposed to trying to block out painful emotions. This may seem antithetical to kindness, but it seems that being kind requires tolerating difficult emotions and placing a certain kind of embrace around them so that we feel that they are tolerated. A soft openness, however, also suggests not attaching too much to one emotion or another--that is, to see that emotions are not who we are but rather they sit within us

3) Curiosity entails the desire to understand--to really understand the why without going to a place of labeling or condemning something. Curiosity continues openness with a state of inquiry into the why that does not attempt to change it into something else. Both openness and curiosity pertain to a sense of acceptance but also of wanting to know more and how things connect

4) Trust--trust means that we can be ok with uncertainty and allow that whatever is happening does come together even if it hardly makes sense in the beginning. A trusting mindset is one of faith in mind, that we are more than the sum of our identities, roles, etc.

When I put these elements together, I may get something close to kindness, although it's important to really feel a sense of optimistic and warm beholding, rather than treating these as neutral. Kindness is an effort in itself to see things in a way that we appreciate who we are and what we contribute as well as others around us.

The Hairnet

 “It is like the dim-eyed ones who seeing a hairnet exclaim to one another: “It is wonderful! Look, Honorable sirs, it is wonderful!” But the hairnet has never existed; in fact; it is neither an entity, nor a non-entity, for it has both been seen and has not been seen. In the same manner those whose minds have been addicted to the discriminations of the erroneous views cherished by the philosophers which are given over to the unrealistic views of being and non-being, will contradict the good Dharma and will end in the destruction of themselves and others.

Gautama, Buddha. THE LANKAVATARA SUTRA (p. 7). Independent. Kindle Edition. 

Hairnets are not likely coveted things in any culture, so why would Buddha use the analogy of the hairnet? I think the hairnet represents anything that is taken to be precious or profound, but is in fact very mundane and everyday, even to the point where is hardly exists. A hairnet is quite thin, in fact, and it takes the shape of whatever hair it is bundling or covering. I also wonder if perhaps hair is a symbol of lust, in the sense that to contain hair is to contain a source of allure or desire, which monks would have avoided by shaving their heads altogether. 

The hairnet's delicate appearance also makes for a good study of existence and non-existence. When we look closely at any kind of net, we see that most of it is composed of empty space. Can you imagine that the majority of what you see around you constitutes mostly empty space? Rather than feeling overwhelmed by the solidness of crowds, we can reflect on the delicacy of appearances and how they are really only passing reflections. In this way, there is really no conflict.

An experiment that you can try on a crowded public space, is to take a look at things that seem overwhelming, such as human feelings, body language and gestures--and then slowly break down what we are seeing into perceptions, thoughts, sensations (within the body) and interpretations (what we think is happening). When these are all broken down, we realize that it's a construction that we make with our minds. The kinds of judgments we make about ourselves and others is not as "real" as we may imagine. Like the hairnet, we are dealing with things that have so much fragility because they are halting appearances that we construct together.

So, we can try experimenting with how much the things around us are really monolithic things, and how much they are really constituted by faculties of mind.

On "Flow"

  The animated movie "Flow" concerns the adventures of a cat and his friends as they struggle to survive a flood. From the beginning of the movie, we find this beautiful small cat enjoying his solitude, only to have his own fortress engulfed in water. He is forced to depend upon other living creatures, including a capybara, a water bird, a lemur and a few dogs. 

    This movie was moving to me because I felt connected with these animals, even when their communication was not in any language that could be put into words. The story itself reminded me that most of our language happens on a nonverbal level, taking the form of gestures, actions and intimations. As the title of the movie suggests, all of our actions, hopes, intentions, are taking part in a continuous river that always threatens to engulf us, as does happen when the cat frequently submerges himself in deep waters, only to be saved by some force of nature or graceful act from other species. Yet, somehow "life goes on" as they say, and more than anything, this cat even willfully submerges itself in water, almost as though it were experimenting with how long it can stay submerged without struggling to get back to the boat from which it has taken refuge. This is something like what we do when we meditate: how long can I bear the leg pain, the itchiness, the drowsiness and discomfort? Maybe I can learn to catch a few fish instead of catching "Z's"!

     Flow is also an expression that denotes a state of vulnerable allowing. Like the cat, I feel myself oscillating between states of fear (wanting to protect myself, my likes and solitude) and states of flow: wanting to keep a part of myself separate in order to salvage my existence (like that tiny ball of a lifeboat that floats around throughout the movie), while sometimes finding myself letting go into the flow of experience. I don't think it's wrong to be afraid, but at the same time the beauty of this movie comes from this cat's brave acts of gradual trust: trusting the dog that gobbles all its fish, the ways of the other animals on the boat, and the ability to co-exist with them.

    I highly doubt that anybody can "go with the flow" on their own or out of their own choosing. The flood, in fact, seems to symbolize how something greater than all of us has to sweep us away from ourselves before we can truly experience flow. That "something" might be a huge loss or a yielding to something mysterious or bigger than us, and it can also be a big question mark that we wrestle with and can't solve or understand. But the point is it can't really come from self-attachment. It has to be allowing something bigger to take over. So, when we talk about going with the flow, we need not try to divest ourselves of anything. The best way is to have faith and trust that something is already unfolding the way it is meant to, and to enjoy the ride as much as we can.

Real Presence as Antidote

 In the same way, the ignorant and simple-minded who are favorably influenced by the erroneous views of the philosophers do not recognize that the views that are influencing them are only dream-like ideas originating in the mind itself, and consequently they are held fast by their notions of oneness and otherness, of being and non-being. It is like a painter’s canvas on which the ignorant imagine they see the elevations and depressions of mountains and valleys. 

Gautama, Buddha. THE LANKAVATARA SUTRA (p. 6). Independent. Kindle Edition. 

When we interact with the dreamlike ideas of the mind, are we supposed to behave ethically towards them, or is the precepts not that important? I have been thinking about this since Saturday's class. One conclusion that seems clear to me is that, indeed, anything we do that harms others is harmful to the mind itself. For instance, when a person has a fit of anger, they are bound to feel regret even if the angry thought wasn't fully expressed. This is because they know that anger is based on a fundamental delusion of self as separate from others. As one participant had explained in our Introduction to Meditation workshop today, nobody ever "makes" a person angry (or even happy, for that matter) since we interpret other people's behavior through our own lenses and perceptions.  By simply letting go of the dualistic notion of self and other, we can see that harming others is no different from harming ourselves. So, it is indeed important to be ethical. After all, wouldn't harming others be like dropping bricks on our own feet? 

Concepts such as being and non being, oneness and otherness, etc. are all based on a view of the self that is founded on duality. All these concepts are ultimately the mind's projections. Now we know this, but do we really know it fully, deeply and with our hearts? I think the important thing is to be present in every situation and to treat this moment as the only moment there is. In doing this, we cut away our comparisons, likes and dislikes, and learn to fully accept this moment as the totality of our mind and awareness, rather than trying to identify with only one tiny piece of the canvas as ourselves. This also means that every thought, no matter good or bad, can be accepted on equal terms. We don't say one thought is better than another, only that one is maybe more useful and beneficial. That is why we need to be careful not to reject certain ideas or thoughts, since they are all ultimately only projections coming from the same awareness. To cast judgment on one of those thoughts is almost like the left hand slapping the right. What is the point if they come from the same source?