One of the harrowing aspects of doing presentations, I find, is the realization that what I present might not be relevant to others or even seen as valuable. I had such a moment today after I had done a presentation for a Buddhist organization at U of T. The group's comments were that my piece seemed confusing, and didn't go specifically into the kind of topics they were looking to explore within their organization. A few remarked that the topic was too general. In the end, I could see that there was a long way to go before I could turn out something that is satisfying for the group's needs.
From a Buddhist perspective, I have to wonder how to deal with moments when a person feels that their efforts were in vain. An example I can think of is the story in Buddhism about the king who builds monuments for Buddhism, only to be told by Bodhidharma that his efforts amount to nothing. What this story suggests is that there can be very little merit as long as a person is attached to the self who gains merit. I think that in moments like these, a person can look deeply into the non-self of the experience. In fact, if a person directly contemplates that moment of 'non-achievement', they may be able to let go of the need to have a 'self with a purpose' or to cling to that self. But it's hard to practice such a letting go, because it means going beyond the defensiveness of trying to cling to an illusory self.
I believe that, for me, there is a deeply conditioned fear of falling behind from what I am expected to do in society. An example would be with grades. Whenever I received a very poor grade in school, I would often panic, as though the grade itself were a reflection of an inner deficiency or emptiness. But does the actual letter make a person 'empty' or 'lacking in value'? In the end, it is only a symbol, and it is meant to evaluate people's efforts, not their value in themselves. Related to this fear is the sense of having wasted time on something that doesn't build into another thing. Of course, to be realistic, much of what human beings and sentient life does is not building on anything at all. Eating, sleeping, and simple chores often don't lead to anything else. They are processed into the fabric of experience, rather than leading to any monumental change in the world. But if I am truly accepting and following the path of practice, I would not cling to any ideal of progress, 'getting better' or 'building' a dream. Progress itself seems to be relative, in a sense. This is not to devalue efforts, but to realistically assess efforts on a spectrum. According to my reading of Buddhist teaching, things are neither permanently existent nor non-existent. Here is how the Dalai Lama explains it in the book Gentle Bridges: Conversations with the Dalai Lama on the Sciences of Mind:
...when we explain impermanence, it is almost like presenting a view of emptiness in that we have to free ourselves from the two extremes of nihilism and eternalism. Momentary change doesn't mean that a phenomenon disappears even in terms of continuity. We should be able to speak of a phenomenon momentarily changing while retaining its nature, its quality.In retaining the continuity of its nature, it is there--this frees us from nihilism. The fact that it is momentarily changing also frees us from the extreme of eternalism, or believe in absolute permanence (p.77)
I think the Dalai Lama's words are quite valuable, because they suggest a middle path between extremes. If I cling to a specific notion about how knowledge, learning, sharing or information "should" progress, I am bound to be disappointed to know that it often doesn't have such a smooth progress. In fact, things can be so complex and deeply layered that it is hard to find an enduring or wise insight into where to go in life or in an organization. On the other hand, if I am too nihilistic, I reject all views, and this can lead to a feeling that 'nothing is worth doing'. In a sense, this is only the obverse of eternalism: one concludes that there is nothing worth doing because nothing is permanent. But if I am able to work with impermanence, I find myself content and able to utilize whatever I have at my disposal to share with others.
I think one of the trickiest things in life is to be able to keep going, even though the end involves the loss of self and basis for an enduring self. With more practice, perhaps I can keep going forward and contributing to the social fabric without harboring the illusory notion that "I" am getting better because of it!
Wayward, Jeremy W & Varela, Francisco J. (2001), Gentle Bridges: Conversations with the Dalai Lama: Boston: Shambhala
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