Issues and Stuff

 I have recently begun to take on a project management role for a journal devoted to Surangama Sutra.  My volunteer role in this capacity is to make sure that the other volunteers are submitting their translations or edits in a timely manner and are not falling behind. As I was organizing a spreadsheet devoted to keeping track of the volunteers and what they are doing, I noticed that the word "Issue" refers to both a periodical number (an index, as it were) and could also refer to a problem. How are these two terms connected? Recently, the term "has issues" is taken to mean a person who has a lot of neuroses or inner conflicts. But issue could also, quite simply, refer to a matter for study or deliberation. Thus, an issue usually refers to a volume of work that deals thematically with a certain topic, approaching it from a variety of angles and slants.

  I tend to prefer to think of issues as things deserving of attention, rather than things desperately in need of "fixing". While the latter might be true of many things (including climate issues that we currently face), I think that it's preferable to see human issues as things in need of multiple conversations and viewpoints. To see someone as having "issues" is sometimes a kind of disparagement of the person which hardly does justice to the opportunities that the person does have. But because having issues sounds too much like having problems or difficulties (which we are somehow not supposed to have), there is more of a tendency to feel shame around this and to present a veneer of not having any challenges to face. But issues instead could be exactly like magazine "special" issues: a topic that can be explored using an inquiring mind. I tend to prefer this latter approach, but I am finding that the word itself is veering more toward something to react to or to fix.

Life's Disappointments

   Reading Martha Nussbaum's text Upheavals of Thought, I've been struck by the distinction between what she refers to as different "ladders of love". Nussbaum analyses different kinds of eschatology, ranging from Platonic to Augustinian, even proceeding forth to Dante and, eventually, James Joyce. I haven't completed this significant text, but one thing that strikes me is the balance between cherishing the Platonic ideal (all that is beautiful in one's life or which one cherishes as "the good") and respecting that one is not always in control of achieving such an ideal. According to Augustine, humans are mired in original sin, and simply have no way to achieve any ideal state of mind except through the grace of God.

    I think that, for me, these experiences represent different forms of introspection. Ideals are always going to exist: I have some template about how my life should proceed, and that stays with me no matter how old I become. However, as I get older, I don't feel that much regret that the ideal is not "realized" in a single human life. This is because I recognize the ideal to be just that ---an ideal--and I don't try to judge my worth by whether or not I have reached such ideals. Whatever standards of achievement, beauty, excellence, success and identity I have cherished at different periods in life (particularly adolescence), I can no longer say that I am guaranteed to achieve, even through hard work or diligent efforts. Does this mean that I don't try to achieve anything at all? That's hardly the case. Achievement and efforts are still worth striving for in themselves, but there is less pressure for me to fulfill them in the specific ways that I had imagined as a younger person. I can't say why this is the case, but I would venture to guess that it's because my soul gets somehow mirrored in whatever I do, regardless of the circumstances. In that respect, even if the mirror is muddy or tarnished--inferior in some way--I start to have faith that I won't lose the soul's beauty and purpose, even if I were to have difficulties in expressing it and manifesting it.

   I will give a specific example. For a long time, I wanted to be a published writer. However, one of the sad ironies is that, no matter how much I write and how many poetry documents I print, I have hardly ever sent any of this work for publication. I think part of the reason for this is a kind of fear of rejection, and another reason is a loss of nerve. I somehow recognize that there are all kinds of mental barriers to action, including the lack of time. But at the same time, I don't worry about it. For example, the fact that I am writing this blog, or anything, for that matter, is proof, to me, of the writer's soul that still lies within me and speaks to me. It is still evidence of a seeking heart, and through even a simple construction of a written piece, I see the beauty of the seeking heart. This, for me, is enough to know that my life is meaningful, and it has some kind of small spark of vitality, regardless of the darkness that might surround me at times. 

   Of course, there are other ways in which I have had the fortune to express my purpose in the world: teaching young students classics, for example, and doing my doctoral thesis. These things will hardly make me famous or world renowned, but when I look deeply into them, I see the soul that set out to be in this world and shed some small beauty into it. And that, for me, is infinitely of more value than all the accolades or stamp of achievement that might come my way, whether by design or accident.

Anchoring

   When you find a teacher who inspires you a lot, it's best to go to that teacher periodically to renew your faith. Sometimes, the teacher's presence is more inspiring than what you are able to do yourself, so going back to that teacher to replenish your faith is important and vital. 

    The reason I write this remark is that I am harkening back to my previous entry about spiritual anchoring. The anchor has always been a symbolically rich metaphor for how I took spiritual practice, especially in the beginning, when I first started to learn and facilitate meditation practices. I would even use this term when I was a timekeeper as well. It always brought me back to something I know the most, which is my present lived experience--and which, I might add, could not be taken away from me. Any time a person feels insecure or jealous about anything--afraid of losing their reputation or status--chances are that they are confusing something out there for their true identity, or true mind. If one has truly found their truest mind, they will find that this true mind is what can never be taken away, since it has no object to begin with! And so, in order to find what is true, one must always go back to what is most fundamental, most simple and most immediate to their lived in-the-moment experience.

    So, the teacher that inspires one the most, is the teacher that brings a person back to their most peaceful self. And that is the teacher that one wants to take refuge in, rather than taking refuge in a teacher who is taking you all over the place and confusing you! After all, that wouldn't necessarily be a teacher who would lead you to find your best qualities.

    

A Spiritual Anchor

   If I were to sum up what I understand from Master Sheng Yen's teachings, it is that he has given me a spiritual anchor. His teachings have allowed me to remember to stay centered in awareness, when things are difficult and I am facing the demons of my afflictions and vexations. I believe that the real gift that Venerable Sheng Yen has given to the world was his ability to make Dharma teachings accessible and easy to understand for people from all walks of life. This is what leads me to respect Master Sheng Yen and see him as my Dharma teacher.

  Dharma is simple and profound: it is going back to this mind, this present, this body, this time, this awareness. Doing this moment to moment, one is grounded in what's really happening, not wandering thoughts of what could be but hasn't happened, or what has past and is already gone. This simplicity of Chan allows me to recognize that most of my thoughts aren't really worth the anxiety I put into them. What can't be finished today will wait until tomorrow, and what can be done today can be done with steadfast resolve. 

   Which brings me to my doctoral thesis: Will it ever be done? Well, if I think this way, there is no enjoyment, and hardly any learning. Enjoying the process of being just in this moment is very important. And I hope to explore similar topics in the future.

Soft Energy

 Sometimes, I feel that the gift of "just being" in the present--with whatever happens to be there-is enough. When I say "enough", I don't mean that there is nothing to do. To the contrary, that soft presence comes from recognizing that there is infinite to do, and never enough time to do it all. There are certainly endless books to be read in my personal library, endless chores to be done, endless work at work, etc. There is never any end to the work that needs to be done. And yet, one can be softly present to it, not urgently trying to finish everything all at once.

   Sometimes, I do feel the soft presence of others; it is a living and natural energy, and one can sometimes feel it more in some than in others. It can be cultivated, I believe, simply through the recognition that there is nothing that urgent or pressing: things will be done in their own time. But also, this energy needs to be fearless. It is not ashamed of itself, and it doesn't feel it needs to be anything more or less than what it is in the moment, so it does not try to shift shape with every passing circumstance.

   Soft presence is an energy that itself is a gift to others. This is challenging to understand, but I believe that the power to put others at ease by having a do-nothing attitude is one of the most glorious gifts that one can truly give to others. It is a monumental contribution in a world where people are constantly running around trying to add things to their resume. Such kind of a gentle and soft nothingness is what's needed to counteract pride; rage and anger in not having status; jealousy of others; inferiority complexes; chronic insecurity or feeling one has not "done enough", etc.