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!

Standing in the "RAIN"

In the March 2013 edition of Shambala Sun (a great magazine for those interested in Buddhism as a way to approach life), in an interview with Tara Brach, she mentions an acronym "RAIN" (originally coined by Vipasana teacher Michele McDonald). The acronym suggests to us a way to live a life of mindful awareness. The letters  stand for: Recognize what is happening; Allow life to be just as it is; Investigate inner experience with kindness; and rest in the Natural state of awareness or non-identification. I have thought about this a lot since I read it and have come to see that within its simplicity is contained profound truth. I'd like to discuss my interpretation of it here.

The first phrase, "Recognize what is happening," is of great importance and much less practiced than it sounds. The simple truth is that most of us tend to view the occurrences in our lives through the veil of our egos, biases, illusions and attachments. This causes us to misinterpret many things we experience or things that are said to us. This, in turn, results in responses that are often incorrect or hurtful to ourselves or to others. If we can take a step back and ask ourselves the question, "What is really going on here?" before we respond to something, we are far less likely to misinterpret whatever it is. A simple example would be someone jumping in front of us in line at the grocery store. Our first thought is likely to be an annoyed, ego-driven, "Hey! I was here first!" What is really happening is that the other person is experiencing some kind of anxiety around their belief that they need to get somewhere else quickly. This has nothing whatsoever to do with us! Realizing this allows us to see that this perceived slight is utterly unimportant and to return to a place of calm and peace. This simple precept applied to more complicated interactions and experiences at work and at home works equally well and is even more helpful.

The second phrase, "Allow life to be what it is," is perhaps the most difficult of the four to accomplish. This does not mean to be satisfied with whatever is taking place, with no eye to changing it if necessary. It means recognizing that whatever is happening in our lives is the reality we must deal with at that moment. Any time spent wishing it weren't so, or lamenting and questioning "why has this happened to "me," is wasted. When we recognize what is actually happening (see above) and allow it just to be as it is, our responses cannot help but be more appropriate because we are reacting to reality, rather than how we would like that reality to be. When things happen around me or to me that I might wish were different, I find immediate comfort in saying (as I often find myself doing), "It is what it is." Saying that grounds me in reality and helps me to avoid unnecessary emotions that might cloud my judgment. This is so difficult for people who want to fix everything immediately and who need to believe the illusion that they are in control of everything around them. These are people who feel real anxiety because things are not conforming to their world-view, and things are not as they believe they "should" be. There are no shoulds; there is only what is. In an even greater sense, allowing life to be just as it is means accepting the impermanence of everything, and learning to be aware and to appreciate each moment even more because of its impermanence. 

The third phrase, "Investigate inner experience with kindness," takes some practice. Most of us were brought up in the Judeo-Christian tradition, in which we are exhorted to love one another, but to be harshly critical of ourselves, always searching for fault and sin, and to cultivate the requisite guilt. For me, one of the most beautiful aspects of Buddhist philosophy is the recognition that while each of us is flawed and will make errors, we are not asked to punish ourselves because of it. Coming to awareness or enlightenment does not mean losing our imperfections, but rather seeing them for what they are: the result of our illusions. Buddhism asks us to be gentle with ourselves; learning to be compassionate with ourselves as we are leads to our treating those around us with compassion as well, since we are all very much the same in our desire to live a happy life. A phrase that I have repeated many times (including in an earlier blog) is, "If your compassion does not include yourself, it is incomplete." Rather than berating ourselves because we are feeling anger, or jealousy or other seemingly "negative" emotions, we need to own them and examine them without judgment for what they can teach us about ourselves. So much of the stress we feel is the result of harsh self-judgment, of looking at ourselves and finding ourselves wanting in this way or that. You are the person you are...view that person with love, and be gentle with yourself.  If you experience the need to change something in your life, do so, but do so out of compassion for yourself rather than out of a sense self-recrimination.

The last part of the "RAIN" is to "rest in the Natural state of awareness and non-identification." This is a little more philosophical and takes some contemplation to get a handle on. What it means is that our true, natural state as human beings is that of awareness, of being one with everyone and with all of the universe. At some point, very, very early in our lives, we come to an awareness of "I", and in that same moment to a focus on "mine", which left unchecked, dominates the rest of our lives and begins to entrap us in a life-long obsession with protecting our egos. Thus we allow our natural state of awareness to become clouded by our attachment to our illusions, our preferences, and our biases, believing we are separate from the rest of creation. The simple truth is that we not.

The very good news is that learning and trying to live in a way that encompasses the R, the A and the I of RAIN, we eventually come to the N, and to a more mindful way of living. Doing so leads to our living a life of awareness, a life in which we are truly present in each moment.  We are able to meet every part of our lives, good and bad, head-on and to respond accordingly and compassionately.

When all is said and done, by embracing the "RAIN", we just might make room for the sunshine.

You Don't Own Me...or Anything Else!

While sitting in meditation earlier this week, I had an experience some might call satori (a sudden moment of crystal-clear understanding), in regard to the concept of non-attachment. What became obvious to me in that moment is that non-attachment is really the only relationship to the things and people around us that makes any sense at all. This is not to say that there are not things that we truly enjoy or people we love with all our hearts. The simple point is that not one of these things or people is "ours" at all.

When I was in elementary school, I learned that the island of Manhattan had been sold to the Dutch settler, Peter Minuit, by the Linape tribe of Native Americans for 60 guilders (the equivalent of $24). Like everyone else, including the teacher, I saw this as an example of successful European gamesmanship over naive "Indians". What I now see so clearly is that the real "fools" were the Europeans who, unlike the Native Americans, did not comprehend that the idea of "owning" a piece of the earth is patently absurd. The Linape, like almost every other Native American tribe, lived in harmony with the land and if the Dutch wanted to give them gifts to live on that land, then okay.

As I look around "my" home, I can see many things, some quite valuable, that are in a legal sense "mine". My wife and I have a deed to the land and house where we live which states that we own this property. Yet, if one truly considers it, at best we have temporary custodianship (my wife's term) of this and everything else we can be said to own. In reality, we have the use and pleasure of things while we live, clearly a temporary situation. When seen that way, being attached to any of these things is ridiculous because the attachment itself is an illusion. At most, we are contemporary in time and space with everything and everyone. The cars, the guitars, the computers, the clothing, all of it, will be there even if we are not, so how are we attached?

There are various pieces of art in and around our home that give us great pleasure. They are interesting and/or beautiful and we love looking at them; it is their beauty that can be ours from moment to moment, but not they themselves. When we are dead, that beauty will be available to whomever else is in their presence, be they our children or relatives or someone completely unknown to us. So how can they be seen as ours in any sense at all? We know that through some tragedy or happenstance, all of these things could be destroyed in a matter of hours. Yet, we also know, were that to occur, if we are not harmed, their loss cannot change who we are because they are in no way a part of us. 

We have lived alongside two dogs, and now a third. The law says dogs belong to us but they are (or were) living beings with minds of their own. We are companions while they are alive, which is sadly too short a timespan, but they belong to no one but themselves. We are fortunate to enjoy their company while we are together on the planet. The same can be said of the people we love. I, like everyone else, have lost family members whom I loved. They live on in my memories of them, of the pleasure of their company and of the things their presence in my life taught me that have become part of who I am. They are gone and I am still walking the planet without them; were they ever mine? I am married to a woman with whom I am deeply in love. The law says she is "my" wife, yet in reality, there is nothing to stop her from walking out of my life except her deep love for me. So how can she be said to be mine? We both know (and have spoken of) the fact that barring some freak accident involving the two of us, one of us will outlive the other, and this will be a source of great anguish. Knowing this makes every moment we spend together precious, because we acknowledge the temporariness of the situation. We do not "belong" to each other; we choose to remain with each other because of the love we bear. Isn't that a far more beautiful and significant thing?

Finally, even attachment to our own lives is foolish and illusory. The air we take in each time we breathe, which sustains our lives, is only in us for a second before it is in someone else. The food we eat and the water we drink is with us temporarily as we draw its nutrients before even it leaves it. As we know all too well, this thing we call life can be snatched from us literally in a second. Even if we have life for many years, at some point we will not. Even life is not "ours" but on loan from the universe. It is that fact  that is the motivation to live each day well, caring for each other, and doing no harm.

All I have said above is the very reason that living each moment in mindful awareness is the only truly sensible way to spend our lives. Knowing that attachment to anything or anybody is nothing but an illusion, their very presence during the time we share becomes precious. We and everything in the universe but coexist for a time…and isn't that wonderful.

We Have Seen the Buddha, and He Is Us

Last week, I saw the film "Les Misérables" for the second time. I had seen the Broadway musical on stage at least four times, and read the book many years ago. Jean Valjean has always been one of my very favorite characters in all of literature. In my Pantheon, he is on a par with Atticus Finch from "To Kill a Mockingbird" as the kind of human being we should all strive to be. Upon this most recent watching, it suddenly became apparent to me that although motivated by devotion to a Christian concept of God, Jean Valjean is the embodiment of the Buddhist concept of Loving-Kindness.

Valjean's moment of enlightenment and attainment of Buddhahood comes from his encounter with the priest from whom he steals the silver. When the priest forgives him and treats him as a "brother", Valjean's seething hatred is transformed by his sudden awareness of the power of love over hatred. It is at that point that he steps upon the path of loving-kindness that he will walk the rest of his life. It could even be said that he is returning to his true nature, since the crime for which he was imprisoned was stealing a loaf of bread to feed his sister's child who was starving to death.

In every encounter he has throughout the rest of the story, every decision he makes or action he takes is focused through the lens of loving-kindness. This is shown most clearly in those instances when the choices he makes are directly against his own self-interest, even at the risk of being sent back to prison, the most hellish experience of his life. "Consciousness, once raised, cannot be lowered," is a phrase I often quote. In his enlightened state, Valjean is incapable of ignoring the plight of others, not for fear of punishment in some Christian afterlife, but because he has realized his compassionate nature. Ultimately, he shows loving-compassion to every person with whom he comes in contact, even Javert, a man devoid of compassion (the Jungian darkness to Valjean's light) who has hunted him all his life, blinded by a sense of Old Testament righteous anger in service of The Lord. Valjean's acts of compassion toward others are not dependent on the nature of their encounters; they are not situational; they emanate from his very nature, a nature we all share as humans. To parody the comic-strip character Pogo, " We have seen the Buddha, and he is us."

The beauty of all this is that Valjean is not some kind of extraordinary being; he is an ordinary man whose awakening changes his life forever. I think this why he so captures our imaginations and our admiration. He is one of us, an ordinary human being with the ability to choose to live compassionately. To see him do so, over and over, when any of us might have shirked, both encourages us to emulate him and shames us in our lack of resolve. Each of us can take up the banner of loving-kindness and can make it the touchstone by which everything we do may be measured. Doing so accesses the very best part of who we are and opens the door to our spirituality in a way that nothing else can. If we are to make contact with the infinite in any meaningful way, it is only in touching the lives of our fellow beings with compassion that we will do so.

Perhaps Victor Hugo put it best at the end of "Les Misérables":

"To love another person is to see the face of God."