Our Suffering "Stories"

 I find it interesting that Buddhism does not have a story about "origination". Whereas some religions offer a story to describe the fall of humanity or how (and why) human beings came to know suffering, Buddhism does not try to look for a temporal origin of suffering. As Master Sheng Yen notes in Tea Words Volume II:

The Judeo-Christian religions talk about Genesis as a time when everything began, but Buddhism sees time as without beginning or end, and sentient beings have known suffering since time without beginning (p.32)

I am reminded of how we often try to look for the underlying "beginning" of our suffering, much the same way as a forensic scientist might look at the scene of the crime to see who is responsible or who perpetrated the action. While it's certainly important to establish responsibility for one's actions, it's equally crucial not to get so attached to the stories themselves, particularly if they serve to polarize people into "villains" or "victims". When one gets caught up in the mindset of trying to establish these two roles, they often end up exacerbating suffering. It contributes to a mindset of self-righteous indignation or even a nostalgia--a longing for a golden time when there was no conflict or suffering.

What does a person do when they get caught into the mindset of looking for the cause of suffering in something specific (a person, place or thing)? I think it's helpful to reflect on what Buddhism refers to as time being "without beginning or end". When I can conceive my suffering as part of an endless cycle, I am no longer trying to grasp the cause of suffering by focusing only on one spoke in the wheel. It's counterproductive to do so, because that spoke in the wheel is only on in a series of endless cycles. But does this lead to a sense of hopelessness or pessimism? On the contrary, it demands that we look to the mind that is not involved in this endless miserable cycle.

Each time a person is caught in their ruminations on "who did what" or "whose fault is it", they have a choice: either follow the thoughts to their conclusions or see beyond thought itself. I am much more interested in the latter, since the former often leads to a very tight, constricted mindset as well as a drainage of energy. If I am always looking for the culprits of my suffering in the phenomena themselves, I am putting all my energy into things which never had any permanence to begin with, and my mind gets stuck. Whatever it is that I worried about is already gone: the conditions have changed to something else, so why dwell on that particular configuration of things? When I cultivate such a mindset, I realize that any number of dilemmas can arise in human existence, and there is no sense in quibbling over who is right or wrong when that too has passed.

Many people might see this attitude as too passive: not getting anything accomplished or addressing the problems of life. I see it differently: the goal is not to do something at all, but rather to have an insight into the real sources of suffering, which lie in one's state of mind. When I get too attached to what I want to happen or insist on happening (as though this were an ultimate goal), I lose sight of what is happening and even what is beneficial about what is happening. I lose sight of the present, even overlooking my own suffering when I insist that things go only one way, not other ways. I give others very little room to have their own experiences, because I am looked into this idea that everything should be exactly as I want it to be. Such an idea eventually leads to a mentality of having to manipulate others into getting what I want! But this only leads to distrust and more suffering, because people no longer believe that others respect them; it is all just a game for people to play to get the things they want.

When I am able to see that all sentient beings suffer from being on a wheel, I have room to be more compassionate, and to realize that everyone is on the same boat, regardless of philosophic outlook, temperament, skills and so on. In this way, I lose the ability to be flexible. Alas, that is sad that I am so rigid in my thinking.

Sheng Yen (2013), Tea Words Volume II. Elmhurst NY: Dharma Drum Publications

More about Karma

 I have been thinking about the notion that everything that happens to a person is really the result of their own karma, whether skillful or not skillful. This idea can sometimes lead to the mistaken view that when negative things happen to a person, they are being 'punished' for their previous actions or thoughts. In a way, this is a kind of anthropocentric way of looking at an otherwise very natural process. Thoughts simply "catch up" to a person, eventually leading to either wholesome or unwholesome actions. It's not even necessarily a case of blaming a person so much as it is to know what happens when certain kinds of thought habits are fed. An example might be that of dwelling on what the "crowd" thinks of a person. If I am attached in my heart to gaining praise and avoiding criticism or disdain from others, my result will reflect that attachment: I respond to every situation out of a fear of being disapproved, and out of a craving for approval. While this might work to one's favor for a while (by allowing a person to become skillful in gaining approval) eventually this strategy ends up failing: nobody is popular or liked all the time. In fact, being admired becomes nothing more than a straight-jacket if it locks a person into a state of expecting admiration in the future. The more often I become attached to admiration, the more I crave it in the future and the more sensitive I am if such admiration does not come to me in the future. This is karma at work, because it shows the way the mind is ensnared in its own delusive attachment to states of being that are not permanent.
   "Health" is another example of something that seems like a good thing to have, but can eventually lead to attachments and negative karmic results. For example, some people will spend a lot of money on potions or medicines that are designed to keep them young (or supposedly), only to find later that they cannot sustain such a project forever. There is no special surgery that is going to keep a person permanently young. I even read a story about a person who wanted to make himself look like a doll, only to find that the repeated surgeries were causing him to lose his nose (yes, literally, the doctor said that his nose would collapse if he had another surgery). Such kinds of surgeries are like going against the natural course of things.  Even when one's physical health is good, there is no guarantee that their mental health will be the same. In Tea Words Volume II, Sheng Yen remarks:

From the moment we are born, the threat of illness hovers over us. The person who has not suffered illness has yet to be born, and only after death does illness cease. But the lives of sentient beings are also marked by mental affliction. (p.32)

In other words, nothing can be sustained forever, and the desire to keep something permanent can also lead to mental states of affliction that are even more painful than physical ones.

   Does any of this sound too pessimistic? The point I want to make is that it's healthier to see karma as a pure form of experience from causes and conditions, rather than assigning labels like "punishment" or "blame". There are two reasons for this. The first is, owing to impermanence and the nature of cause and conditions, it simply makes no sense to dwell on blame: things are changing all the time, and time waits for no one. Secondly, the whole point of karma is not feeling unworthy or "bad", but to ask oneself what they can learn from their mental conditioning. If I am suffering because I badly want to stay young, is that suffering eased by trying harder to stay young, or is there something about my mind's attachment to an idea that leads to suffering?  If I am addicted to being "approved" by eyeryone, does that benefit others, or does it only cause me more suffering? The results I receive ask me to continually re-examine the state of my mind to see where I am getting stuck.

Sheng Yen (2013). Tea Words Volume II Elhurst NY: Dharma Drum Publications

The Man with the Stone Shirt

I was reading an interesting memoir by Robert A. Johnson called Balancing Heaven and Earth, where he recounts how a heroic journey has to shatter the inner tendency to isolate oneself from criticism and doubt, as symbolized by the story an old man who is wearing a stone shirt. The stone shirt, for Johnson, represents the choice to hoard up of one’s psychic resources (or genius) to protect one’s personal self, as opposed to sharing one’s resources with the world. As Johnson remarks:

When each of us gets in touch with our personal genius, we can apply this power for the good of humankind, or we can take this power and use it egocentrically and thereby accumulate a stone power shirt around us that leads to total and absolute isolation. Our story informs us that it is expressly over the area of one’s heart that this stone barrier occurs: it is a shirt (p.152).

I found this passage (and the accompanying story which Johnson relates, derived from the Paiute tribe in the southwestern United States), to be quite illuminating. It highlights how easily it is for people to become fixated on a search for a pain-free existence, only to result in a kind of isolation or clinging to self and its powers. Perhaps this is a symbolic tale representing the ego. In another passage of the story, this old man represents not wanting to be vulnerable or humble to criticism. The old man is guarded by a multi-eyed antelope who is so sensitive to any kind of movement that it protects him from any kind of harm.

This story made me reflect: where does a person draw the line between learning from the past and not closing themselves off from all possibility? What I find sometimes helps is to know that we are always holding a space for both the light and the dark aspects. A tendency such as introversion can be both insightful for the greater good and leading to excessive isolation. If I am aware that all tendencies have both light and dark aspects to them, perhaps I am less attached to one area or another. I am able to honor the way that all aspects of ourselves can be used to benefit others, and there is nothing that is completely bad or terrible if it is treated in a way that is non-grasping.

To use a simple example: having an artistic ability can allow a person to create wonderful experiences for other beings. On the other hand, it can also lead to a more isolating tendency, such as a pride in one’s ability which cuts oneself off from receiving feedback from others or even growing and learning from the work of others. In spiritual practice, this might also take the form of becoming overly attached to a sense of “achievement” in practice, such as attaining very lofty states of being or seeing oneself as “already enlightened” so no further growth is seen as necessary or possible. This leads to a kind of stifling of the mind.

What is needed in these situations is to put oneself in the opposite place or not really knowing anything. After all, one can be proficient in an endless variety of abilities, but does that mean one knows who they are and why they are here? Exposing oneself to unresolved questions and even knowing how little one knows, can be very eye-opening experiences which help our souls breathe and give us mental space to behold wonder and mystery. If one can see the world and themselves in this way, they are freed from fixating on the need to protect themselves from the pitfalls and uncertainties of growth and maturation.

Johnson, Robert A. (1998). Balancing Heaven and Earth: A Memoir of Visions, Dreams, and Realizations. San Francisco: Harper Collins

Seeing the Body's Moments

 There is a certain beauty to be found in just harmonizing with our bodies rather than seeing them as obstacles to meditation practice. Last night's meditation felt burdensome to me, and it was only in the second half of the sitting that I was able to create some movement in my abdomen to allow certain sensations of spaciousness to open up. Today, on the other hand, I felt much more relaxed, perhaps because I am getting closer to the end of the week. In any case, it's important to observe one's rhythms and go through them gracefully rather than trying to pathologize certain body states.
   I was once reading about a famous singer who complained of many ailments, leading one of her closest friends to eulogize, upon her passing, that she was never fully comfortable in her own skin. Is this a normal situation? I believe so, but as one of the meditation facilitators shared after sitting tonight, even "body" is a certain kind of habituated thought energy. My not feeling at home in the body could be the result of many different thought patterns, including the tendency to compare different bodily states, the tendency to prefer or to idealize one state over others, and so on. If I am not attaching to these bodily states, are they considered so bad or harmful? All of this really depends on one's attitude, especially if they are trying to make enemies with their conditions or are lovingly befriending their conditions.

Meditation and Taking Classes

 After the meditation group sitting this evening, we talked about the idea that there are three kinds of enjoyment: sensuous, meditative and "true liberation" which is enlightenment. The sensuous part of enjoyment might also entail, to some extent, the ability to feel happy about one's goals and accomplishments. In the video we watched prior to the sitting, Master Sheng Yen had shared that people often become attached to their accomplishments, yet this attachment brings about a sense of dissatisfaction. After all, whatever I do accomplish, I am going to feel that there is someone else who can accomplish more than I can, and thus this can lead to a disappointment or a lack of fulfillment. I had asked the group, in light of my own journeys as a student, is there a way to look at taking courses "meditatively" as a present moment experience, without exerting the pressure to succeed or the fear of not succeeding?
  The answer is of course one can: so long as a person is in the present moment and respecting the process of doing something, then there is simply no limit to what a person can do, because one is not getting exhausted trying to "accomplish" anything. This is the meaning of some Chan statements like the way is not difficult so long as one does not pick and choose (see https://terebess.hu/english/hsin.html).  This amounts to saying that when our mind is not fixated on our reputation or sense of relative success in term es of other people and their perceptions, then our bodies and minds can be light while doing what needs doing. If I am taking a course with the unrealistic (and somewhat counterproductive) idea that I will win a Nobel Prize for giving good insights in my assignments, then everything will feel a bit burdensome to me. But if on the other hand, my focus is simply on the present moment and what I can learn based on the material at hand, then even if there is nothing tangible, I can still treat it as a valuable experience in itself. The practice itself is none other than to let go of these self referential markers which cause us to feel either "better' or "worse" as a result of what we do.
 Another aspect is to ask the question: am I taking this course with an attitude of comparison, or do I see it as a contribution to others' learning? The latter view is more relaxed, because it allows me to contribute without measuring how much I do compared with others. I also develop an attitude of doing what I can but not pressuring myself to stand out in any way. Can I apply such an approach to my upcoming online course in fall? I certainly hope to try.

The Deeper Wisdom of Our Responsibilities

 Most people see that the purpose of their life is to fulfill a series of predefined commitments, roles, responsibilities, etc. This view about life does fit very well with a Confucian view, where people are realizing their own benevolent nature through the fulfillment of their relationships in life. While I think these relationships are important, I can't help but think that they are important insofar that they teach us the deeper wisdom of life, such as impermanence, letting go of the self, surrender, loyalty,and so on. If I take my position at work as an example, I can either see the purpose of work as to fulfill that particular duty "perfectly" (and thus getting a plaque on the wall beside me!), another way of looking at it is that work is the application and revealing of deeper wisdom. Not only do I finish a task, but I also learn that tasks are not to be clung to: they do change over time, just as the waves do.
   If I am not able to see my responsibilities and roles as "revealing" wisdom, I get caught in the trap of identifying myself with them, not realizing that even the risk of losing such roles and privileges is also a teaching in itself on suffering. Without the ability to stay in one place and to be securely in a job, I could not learn insecurity and the losses that are inevitable. I only see "doing well" as beautiful and valuable, rather than seeing the cracks in my knowledge as equally valuable. It's what I don't know or cannot know or fully realize that reveals the vastness of all that there is.
   The interesting thing about one's responsibilities is that it is not exactly a predictable response. Think about it in this way: responsibility comes from the word "to respond", but we often take responsibility in the opposite way, as a kind of predictable set of instructions. Responsibility is more akin to responding to the changing moment, not a kind of fixed set of directions. To truly take responsibility requires a kind of loosening of one's tendency to react or to "follow orders"; it takes an insight that there are no perfect arrangements and that we work best when we are not welded to preconceptions.

Same Day, Different Views

   After the guided meditation session this morning, a thought came to my mind that this is the last weekend until school starts, and many students are preparing for the back to school grind. I shared with the others that while some people are starting to worry about the rush hour traffic with back to school, others (particularly parents) are rejoicing in the coming year without their kids being at home all day. It's interesting that the very same day (back to school) can mean very different things to different people, depending on the situation and conditions of the looker. If one is truly practicing equanimity, then they will see that no situation is absolutely good or absolutely bad. Everything contains a hidden opportunity, even when at first, it seems to be a loss of some kind.
   Impermanence always feels a little bit daunting. Even on this past Thursday during the sharing, the question was raised, "is there any sense of security in this world?" When a person's mind is agitated and they are not living in the moment, their minds will cling to some idea or thing that they can call enduring or "secure", only to find themselves ruminating and fretting over the idea of what can be secure. In fact, people spend more time worrying about what they can hold onto than enjoying what is in this moment. But if one stops to think about it, change is the opportunity to see that everything has a good and a bad. One of the meditation leaders pointed out on Thursday that even losing a cherished position and role is an opportunity to grow and become something different. For example, the position I have held for many years might seem inseparable from me, but if I were to lose it, there would be a space open to do something else. This doesn't mean that I should recklessly squander what I have (since this would not be mindful), but it suggests that one can look at life in a way that one is not panicking about losing something. One does not, in other words, live in perpetual fear of what they might lose, but sees it more the way a steward might see the property they manage. While I don't own the property, I can enjoy and make the best of protecting it for others.
   Next time you feel anxious, you might ask yourself the question: what am I afraid of losing? Would I die if I lost it? Am I really "losing" after all, or is it just clinging to a fear of losing? And finally, would I be devastated if I were somehow rejected by others? These are the kinds of questions which touch upon impermanence and one's relationship to it. If I can experience impermanence in its fullness, I am no longer afraid of dying, and nor am I afraid to live either.