A Prisoner of Preferences

A Prisoner of Preferences

Of late, for the past few months, the path I am walking has been rocky. There are many reasons for this, but once again, I am forced to acknowledge that I threw the rocks onto the path myself (as we almost always do). For whatever reason, and I cannot come up with a good one, I have gotten out of the habit of meditating. This happens to many people, and I am going to be gentle with myself in acknowledging it, and simply, “return to the breath.” I could feel my stress level building this morning, so I went into my room and sat to meditate. When the gong went off, signaling the end of my session, I realized it felt so good to be back in that space that I just kept on going. So lesson one is, don’t stop meditating on a daily basis, but if you do, just start up again.

For a while now, my dear wife has been telling me that I have been “cranky”, angry, and frustrated a good deal of the time. Normally I am at peace and pretty tranquil, so this has been disturbing to hear. It’s disturbing mostly because it’s true, because I know it’s true, and I have not seemed to be able to pull myself out of it. Funny thing, this period of time has coincided with the period of time in which I have not been meditating. Perhaps there’s a connection? (Please hear the sound of irony in my voice.)

I know I sound like a broken record here, but while I was meditating, I realized, yet again, the reason I have been so out of sorts is that I have allowed myself to become attached, really attached, to my own preferences. There are many things I would prefer to be different, and my frustration that they are not, and worse, that I seem powerless to cause them to change, has thrown me for a loop. 

I am suffering from having one foot in each of two different worlds. On the one hand, I wish to be gentle, tranquil, peaceful, and compassionate to all beings. On the other hand, I am a political junky! The source of my frustration is directly connected to politics on both the state and national level. I would prefer that the present election cycle, for both political parties, not be a walk into crazytown; but it is, and I fear it will only get worse as we approach November. I would prefer that Arizona’s governor and legislature, and soon to be expanded supreme court, did not belong to the Koch brothers, but they do. I would prefer that the sheriff of Maricopa County were not a bigot and racist (proven in court) who harasses Latino and Latina residents with a vengeance, but he is and does. Compassion dictates that I not hate him, but does not prevent me from hating what he does. If I am being honest, I am also frustrated by the fact that a number of people I love and respect stand above the fray, not lending their voices and prodigious talents for expression to the battle I believe needs to be waged. I would prefer they join me on the barricades, simultaneously admitting to myself they are probably happier and less crazy than I am by not doing so.

As a man trying to live his life according to a Buddhist philosophy, I should and do know that my frustration arises from the fact that the world is not conforming to my view of how it should be, the way I would prefer it to be.

It is important to realize it doesn’t matter that I have these preferences (we all have preferences and biases), but rather that I have allowed myself to be subsumed by them, to be held tight in their grasp. I have allowed myself to become shackled to my preferences rather than simply acknowledging that I have them, and accepting that they are meaningless to anyone but me.

I have been a prisoner of my preferences, but when all is said and done, I built the cell, I am the warden, and I hold the key. It’s time to get back to the cushion, where clarity and mindfulness await, and fling open the door to my self-created prison. 

Namaste

I Am Not Who I Was...Who Am I Now

I haven’t written in my blog for quite a while, but after an interesting and serious conversation with my wife and my youngest child (now 39 and a yogic philosopher and teacher), I gained some insights that I thought worth sharing.

I am 67 years old, and like so many of my contemporaries, I have had to deal with the loss of loved ones, some chronic illness, a bunch of surgeries, and even skin and prostate cancer, which I have thankfully survived. And partly because of my Buddhist philosophy, I have been been able to roll with these punches and not be knocked down by any of them.

Lately, however, I have been quick to anger and terribly impatient, two things that are just “not me”… and there’s the rub. Right now, it is me, and until last evening I hadn’t really zeroed in on why that should be so. Put simply, I am not who I was, and who I have been used to being all my life, and I am angry about that and I am saddened by it. For someone who has often told others in this blog about accepting the reality of impermanence in everything, when confronted with my own, I haven’t done so well.

I have chronic back pain, chronic leg pain, and pain in my hands and feet. Some of that is diabetic neuropathy, but much of it is not; much of it is arthritis, which has the been the curse of my family for generations. Knowing that, one would would think I should have expected this at this point in my life. I figured it was coming, but I had no idea what the reality of it would be. Now I know…I sure as shit know, and am coming to understand what it actually means for the remainder of my life. My balance has been affected; I cannot walk a perfectly straight line; any work I do that requires me to bend over or to kneel down results in significant pain that takes much longer than it used to to subside. Adding insult to injury, I have had to sell my bicycle and buy a used adult tricycle in order to be able ride at all.

Here’s the meat of the matter, so to speak. In the past, whenever I have had to face something difficult, including long hours, difficult situations, physical activity or hard jobs, I knew I could just bull my way through it. In any of these situations, I have always said to my wife, in a joking manner, “Hey, I’m Chuck Rinaldi…no problem”. Well, now there is a problem… I can no longer make that arrogant claim, and frankly, it pisses me off. I have come to realize that I have been fighting like crazy, forcing myself to be who I was twenty years ago, and trying to fool myself into believing I could be as I was twenty years ago.  I routinely ignore the physical pain I am experiencing, despite my wife’s loving concern and desire that I slow down or get someone else to do what needs to be done. If work needs to be done on the roof, then damn it, I’m going up on the roof. In point of fact, I have been trying to live an illusion. 

I am not that person any more, no matter how much I want to be. The Buddha said that life is suffering and that suffering derives from desire. It is not, however, always the desire for things. Much more often, that suffering comes from desiring that things be other than they are; that they be as we would prefer them to be. My desire to ignore my present reality is squarely at the root of what is bothering me right now.  The problem is, if I’m not that Chuck Rinaldi, then who am I? I think I’m beginning to know now, and I have to embrace him with the same compassion that I try to show all other living beings. 

I am at my happiest when I am in my classroom, teaching psychology to my students at the community college. I now realize that it is because, in that classroom, where none of my physical limitations come into play, I am the same Chuck Rinaldi that walked into a classroom 45 years ago, and it feels great. What I must find a way to do, through meditation, is accept that he and the guy who walks kind of slowly to his car in the parking lot after class, maybe a limping a little, are the same person, and he’s just fine as he is. If I can get there, and I know I can, then “Hey, I’m Chuck Rinaldi…no problem.”

Namaste.

On Borrowed Time

On Borrowed Time

It's been a long time since I've published a blog post, but I felt this topic was a worthy one. Over the past two years, I have dealt with a series of health issues. I was diagnosed with prostate cancer two summers ago, and spent the following summer getting radiation therapy (which appears to been effective in eradicating it). Last year, I developed an antibiotic-resistant, E-coli based, urinary tract infection that landed me in the hospital for four days with IV antibiotics and temperatures of 104. Adding insult to injury, we were supposed to leave for Tuscany the day after I was admitted to the hospital!  After going to a pain specialist two months ago for lower back issues, and having been sent for a lumbar (lower) and cervical (upper) MRI, it was discovered that the spinal stenosis I've known I had for a while had become so severe in my cervical spine that without surgery, it would put put me in a wheelchair permanently in approximately five years. I had the surgery (laminectomy and laminoplasty) six weeks ago and have recovered completely. I have also been having problems for the last couple of months with increased light sensitivity in the afternoon sun (quite bright out here in Arizona). Two days ago, my ophthalmologist told me that the light sensitivity is due to developing cataracts that will need to be surgically removed sometime in the future.

I have not shared this catalogue of heath issues in a bid for any kind of sympathy. Actually, I'm feeling quite fine at the moment and am in excellent spirits. I could, of course, have dropped into a funk each and every time one of these diagnoses and need for treatment occurred. What saved me from doing that is the Buddhist philosophy I espouse and have shared with you on a number of occasions. First of all, I truly adhere to the phrase, "It is what it is." All of the clothes-rending, hair-pulling, woe-is-me responses that are possible in such situations (and sad to say are often adopted) are simply a waste of time. Railing against the gods, attempting to deny the reality of the situation, and complaining to one's self or others only serve to take our attention away from seeking whatever options might be available (and they are many) to deal with the issue at hand.

This is not say that I, or my wife and family were not concerned, and frankly a little scared as each of these occurrences unfolded. We were, and there were certainly some tears shed along the way. I am an ordinary person, and my first reactions are always going to be those of anyone else. However, because of my Buddhist perspective and frequent meditation, something else became abundantly clear, and made all of this much easier to accept. The fact is, all of these health issues are simply proof in the most real sense that everyone and everything are impermanent. I'm 66 years old, and have enjoyed a full life, with many interesting experiences and adventures along the way. I certainly hope to continue to do so for many years, but the simple truth is that the last two years have made it abundantly clear that the sand in my hourglass is gradually running out, and there is a lot less in the chamber than there used to be.

This is not in any way dwelling on a morbid thought; I do not think about death with any regularity. Rather than being a reason to wring our hands, the fact that each of us has a shelf-life should focus all of us on fully appreciating the miracle that is our life in every moment; we see, hear, taste, smell, feel, create thoughts, love,  are aware of the world around us! Being reminded of my impermanence has in fact renewed my commitment to living each moment with awareness, and savoring the preciousness of being aware, alive, and in love in each new day.   

Namaste

The Illusion of Permanence

The Illusion of Permanence

Twice in the past week I have been reminded of the absolute impermanence that underlies every aspect of our lives and every single existent entity on Earth.

Not far from where we live, we have the astonishingly beautiful Phoenix Botanical Garden. Besides being a wonderful place to spend time looking at the plants (all of which, incidentally, are always in the process of growing or dying), they also have interesting exhibitions throughout the year.  Early last week, my wife, René, and I went to see an exhibition of Ofrendas, artistic representations of various stories or concepts related to the Dia de los Muertos (Day of the Dead).  This is a day when Mexican and Mexican-American people venerate their dead ancestors. The figures in the Ofrendas are mainly highly decorated skeletons, examples of which become available in gift-shops across the country at this time of year.  One exhibit that particularly moved me was a shadow box with four niches, above which was the title of the piece, “Amor” (Love). In the first box are two skeletons holding hands; in the second the same two at their wedding; in the third the couple with a new baby (also a skeleton); and in the last, the woman in widow’s weeds. I found this to be a most eloquent expression of the impermanence of our lives, and a reminder to cherish each moment as it passes on our inevitable path to the grave. It struck me that wherever we are, death (the skeleton) lies within our external bodies, always with us. Each of us is changing, even at the cellular level, from moment to moment to moment. Thought about in this way, the idea of grasping what we have becomes absurd, because the very idea of permanently holding on to something or someone is an illusion. Each of should strive to pass each moment of our lives in awareness, because, in fact, that’s all we ever really have. There is also great comfort in the realization that just as we cannot hang on to the good things in our lives, neither can the struggles and challenges in our lives remain unchanged.

The second reminder of the reality of impermanence came while I was meditating during the week and then was reiterated by Shane Wilson, my mediation teacher, yesterday during our class. I recently returned to mindfulness meditation training because I realized I was not spending the time I used to on the cushion, and I was not as content or at peace as a result. In mindfulness meditation, the most widely used object of concentration is the breath, to which we return gently each time our mind wanders off (as it inevitably will). It is always present and available to us, wherever we are, making it the perfect object on which to focus. It occurred to me as I was watching my breath, that the breath itself is the very best teacher of the truth of impermanence. Every inhalation and every exhalation has a beginning and an end, and each exists for a few seconds at most, leading to the next breath, which comes and then goes. No matter who we are, our last act on this earth will be our final exhalation. Even the very exchange of oxygen that gives us life is fleeting and impermanent, reminding us again of the significance of each moment.

Ultimately, the belief that we can actually hold on to anything is perhaps our greatest illusion. Only when we embrace the notion of universal impermanence can the beauty, wonder and specialness of everything around us truly be understood.

Let Go...and Heal

It's been a long time since I've penned a blog entry. There are many reasons for that, some of which are directly related to this particular blog. So here goes.

I like to see myself as kind, compassionate and at peace with myself and others. Of late, the first two continue to be true, but number three…not so much. People whom I love and respect, family members and friends, have pointed out to me recently that basically I've become argumentative and quick to anger, and not always pleasant to be around. This is very different for me. Usually I can move through life's little challenges with aplomb and good humor. Lately, I've been yelling at the TV, at other drivers (only to myself), and at the newspaper and letters to the editor. I've been argumentative when family members have disagreed with me, even over the most trivial things, and how foolish is that? I certainly have been dealing with stuff in my own life...I've finally recovered from an E. Coli UTI that took two months and many, many strong antibiotics to cure. Also, and this is the first time I have made this public online, I am in the middle of radiation treatment for prostate cancer. (This is going quite well and the prognosis is extremely positive because the amount of cancer is very small and we caught it early.) I mention this only because I've been using these last two things as an excuse for my verbally aggressive behavior. The truth is, as has been pointed out to me, this has been going on for the last year. Once confronted with this, I needed to get at the source immediately because this is definitely not the Chuck Rinaldi I wish to present to the world, and certainly not to my wife, who is my rock, or to everyone I else I care about.

 I began to go back to mindfulness meditation, something I had been neglecting because I thought I was in a poor place to just sit with my thoughts. I couldn't have been more wrong. Meditation was exactly what I needed.

As I sat, and let my thoughts come as they might, I tried to look at what was really going on with me. I had a simple but profound bit of insight. I had forgotten two things I have been telling other people for years: 1) The problem is not our preferences (biases) but rather our attachment to them; 2) The key is to just LET GO. As I continued to sit, I realized that the preferences and biases I had become terribly connected to all had to do with politics - local, national, and world. As I surfed Facebook, I would feel myself getting angrier and angrier when presented with opinions and beliefs that were in direct conflict with what I believe. I would share many provocative posts essentially attacking opinions with which I disagreed. A friend I cared about actually unfriended me because she had gotten tired of my constant ranting posts.  I now understand why she needed to do that and I'm sorry I made her feel that way. With meditation, I have come to realize that my political biases are simply my preferences for how I would like the world to be. The fact that the preferences of others may be in direct contrast to mine is simply not important enough to allow my personal balance to be impacted. They certainly have a right to believe what they do and to express it in the hopes that others may agree with them.

The decision I have made, and which has already resulted in my feeling much more calm and at peace, is simply to let go of my attachment to my preferences and in so doing, the anger that accompanied it. Perhaps the most important discovery (or if I am being truthful, re-discovery) is that doing so has been so very easy and so freeing. It is a personal decision, entirely within my control: Just. Let. Go.  In order to do so, I am no longer reading any of the FB posts that stirred my negative reactions and I am doing the same with the many political emails I receive.  I am not deleting them; I am simply going by them. That is the mindful choice I am making each time that will help me to remain aware in the moment and to make the compassionate decision each and every time.

 I have not given up my preferences for how I wish people would treat others...I know I cannot reasonably accomplish that...but I am giving up my need for others to agree with me. I will continue to work for the changes I wish to see, but I will do so through teaching, at the ballot box, and by writing letters to the editor, not by haranguing people to see things my way.

Breaking my attachment to my preferences is having the effect of breaking the chain of the anchor (anger) that has been holding me down and keeping me from being who I have been in the past and who I wish to be again.  Letting go is allowing me to heal myself. I am beginning to understand what is meant by the "incredible lightness of being".

What's the Story?

A couple of weeks ago, my wife and I saw a film entitled, The Stories We Tell. It is a documentary about a real family in which various family members are interviewed by another family member (who is making this film) regarding a significant occurrence that took place in the the past. (No spoiler here....I won't say what it was...see the film!) The fascinating thing about it is that no two stories about the occurrence are the same. Each telling reveals more about the speaker than about the occurrence itself or the person being spoken about.

Fast-forward to yesterday. I was reading an article in BuddhaDharma  magazine entitled "Awaken with Them? Really?", by Zen priest Catherine Toldi, when I came across something that set me to thinking, particularly in light of that film. She said, "One way to understand delusion is that we think the stories we tell ourselves are true. There's nothing inherently wrong with this; it's how we humans make sense of the world. The trouble comes when we let our stories substitute for having real relationships with those with whom we are trying to [interact]."

I learned a while ago that most of what we believe about ourselves, others, and our experiences, are really just stories...narratives, if you like... that we tell ourselves. If you think about it,  our memories of the past are just stories we tell ourselves about what we think happened. Our plans for the future are stories we tell ourselves about how we want things to happen or work out. In truth, neither is real. We all recognize that often our  memories are faulty; they are filtered through our biases and prejudices  and often arranged to make us feel better about ourselves. Any beliefs we have about what the future will bring are illusions arising out of our desires or fears.

As Catherine Toldi points out, the problem comes from the fact that we tend to believe the narratives we are spinning are true, and then we make decisions based on those beliefs. How many times have all of us had a difficult interaction with someone and spent the rest of our day replaying the experience and the conversation?  If we pay attention, we discover that the story changes subtlety with each re-thinking, improving our part in it and most often parsing what the other person said in order to place more blame on them and less on ourselves. Again, to quote Ms. Toldi, "It's so easy to fall into nursing our internal commentary--speculating on people's motivations, replaying their offending words, conjuring up ways to cut them down to size. Our stories take on a life of their own, spinning away from the real person over there and how they may or may not actually think, feel,or intend."

In these ways, the belief in our version of the story begins to be perceived as what actually occurred. We then tell our story to others (usually friends or acquaintances predisposed to believing our version), who then begin to see the other person differently and more negatively, and often pass the story on. In this way, the story, which was never completely real to begin with, becomes solidified and interpreted as reality. The truly unfortunate result of this is that we forget our stories are just stories and begin to rely on them rather than cultivating awareness that allows us to see our experiences as they are, free of our biases and prejudices.

Each of our stories is unfolding from moment to moment. The most satisfying and authentic experience we can have results from accepting what is real, as it occurs, without judging it or needing it to be other than it is. When we do this, through awareness, we are able to stop the stories from spinning out of control simply by recognizing that they are just that...stories. At first, doing this is a little scary as we become aware of the extent to which we allow these flawed narratives to define who we are, what our life's are about. An enormous sense of freedom results when we recognize the nature of our own stories, because we come to see that the stories we concoct about those around us are equally illusory and prevent us from relating to people as they are rather than as we think they are.

The kindest thing we can do for ourselves is to free ourselves from our delusions and the stories that arise from them. We can then meet life head-on, as it really is, and fully experience it in all its colors. In a sense, by doing so, we are moving from fiction to non-fiction, and oh what a story that will be!

Whatever (or Whoever) You Meet Is the Path

During the past week, in two separate places, I have come across a Buddhist slogan and a quote that are related to each other and have much to teach us. The first is from an article by Norman Fischer in the March 2013 edition of the magazine Shambala Sun. The other is a quote by the inestimable Pema Chödrön. They are, respectively, "Whatever you meet is the path" and "If we open our hearts, anyone, even the people who drive us crazy, can be our teacher. "

What makes them so related to each other is that they both state a simple truth that many of us fail to realize as we search for "awakening." Both of them tell us that what or who is right in front of us, in any given moment, is what we have to work with and learn from. Too often, we have a tendency to believe the illusion that the lessons we need to learn must come from a sage or a spiritual teacher, and will be suffused with light and a sense of calm or well-being. In reality, some of the most important lessons come amidst confusion and anxiety in our darkest moments. If we actually pay attention to what these teachers are saying, they are all telling us, in way or another, to be aware of whatever is happening in the moment, for there truly is nothing else.

The first of the above-mentioned quotes, "Whatever you meet is the path," is pretty straightforward. The key is in recognizing that while we are waiting to discover what our "path" might be, we are, in fact, walking it at that moment (and at all other moments). The beautiful phrase we read or hear from a teacher is no more important or valid than is a particularly frustrating or anger-producing experience in teaching us about ourselves and how our minds perceive the world. In point of truth, it is in being aware of our thoughts and feelings as they occur in response to difficult situations that provides us the best opportunity for insight. Through such insight, we become awakened, if you will, to the particular ego-driven illusions, preferences and beliefs that create our conditioned reactions. We are then able to reframe our perception of what we are experiencing and to see what is actually taking place. Every experience, good and bad, without exception,  is the very "stuff" of our practice. Caught in traffic…an opportunity to practice and recognize that we cannot control what is happening and that it will take the time it takes to arrive wherever we are going. Doing so results in an immediate lessening of stress as we accept "what is" rather than getting upset that things are not as we want them to be. Fighting with your spouse....an opportunity to practice and look at whether you are trying to resolve an issue to the satisfaction of both, or trying to win, regardless of the emotional cost. (Hint: the second is pure defense of ego.)  And on and on. While each of us naturally tries to seek pleasure and avoid pain, the reality is that our path is whichever of those happens to be occurring at the time. If not that, what could it possibly be?

Pema Chödrön tells us that everyone with whom we interact, perhaps especially those whose presence we find the most annoying, teaches us about ourselves and gives us the opportunity to practice. Do we allow the rude guy behind the counter at the store to draw us into his negativity, or do we step back and recognize that for some reason, this person is suffering, and his rudeness is a result of that? Awareness allows us to feel compassion for his plight and to silently wish him peace, rather than to allow our ego to rear its head in a knee-jerk response of, "He can't treat me like that. Who does he think he’s talking to?" That rude person has just taught us that we can choose compassion rather than anger and keep ourselves calm and tranquil in the bargain. Is any lesson spoken by a Zen master any more significant? By the same token, every positive and loving interaction we have with anyone gives us a glimpse into what our true nature is as human beings, and teaches us this is not only possible, but is what we should try to cultivate in everything we do. The lessons are all around us if we are able to open our hearts and minds.

How we approach every human interaction we have, even with the guy in the alley stealing our wallet, is a reflection of the philosophy or beliefs by which we purport to live. Knowing that allows us to examine how we have chosen to live our lives every time we encounter another of our fellow beings. Thanks to everyone with whom I ever had contact for teaching me and helping me to grow. What a glorious gift!