Why I don't own a gun

The last time I fired a weapon was almost 40 years ago. My decision to not ever fire a weapon again since has been resolute. A blog post I wrote nearly four years ago explains why. But there's a more fundamental reason for me to not own a gun.

Owning a gun means I have formulated the intention to kill. I may never kill anyone or anything while owning a gun, but the intention would be there, for why else would anyone own a gun?

First, let me clarify something. I do not begrudge people who hunt, nor do I view them with any form of disdain, and nor will I attempt to take their opportunities to hunt away from them. Having said that, hunting involves killing, regardless of the purpose, or, more precisely, the intent. The Buddha teaches that nothing occurs without consequence - "when this is, that is ... when this isn't, that isn't" - and that all actions are preceded by an intention. This is the core of his teaching on kamma.

But while kamma has everything to do with cause and effect, it is not linear; rather, it's more like loops of feedback that occur in our lives because we always have the opportunity to eliminate our kamma with the creation of every new intention and subsequent action. The Buddha's teaching about The Salt Crystal is pertinent here. As the Buddha teaches, if you put a teaspoon of salt into a glass of water, the water will taste salty; but if you put a teaspoon of salt into the Ganges, the water will not taste salty. So a single act within the greater context of your lifetime - or multiple lifetimes - holds negligible consequence because of all the other actions you can take to "dilute" the salt's presence.

That's important to remember, that we can "dilute" our actions, but we can never eliminate what has already happened; the salt does not disappear, it just cannot be tasted.

Hunting, to me, is like the teaspoon of salt in a river, but even that depends on the reasons behind why a person hunts. A person who hunts to provide food for his or her family creates kamma different from the person who hunts for sport.

Killing another person? That's a tablespoon of salt in a glass of water. Even with saying that, however, all homicides are not equal and the kamma created will be as varied as the intention behind the act. The point is, no one is immune from the consequences of killing, regardless of intent.

Which is why I will not own a firearm. Particularly a handgun. There is no other purpose for a handgun other than to kill another human. Even if self-defense, owning a handgun is done with full knowledge that it may be used to kill another person. Anyone who thinks otherwise is deluding him or herself.

And this is why I believe that Michael Dunn is guilty of murder, plain and simple. I have seen some comments on Twitter following the jury's verdict wondering how difficult it will become in the future to prove intent behind premeditated murder when it comes to self-defense. For me it's quite simple. Michael Dunn had formed the intention to kill someone long ago, and I suspect his intention was to specifically kill a black youth. All Dunn was waiting for was the right opportunity.

That is why I will not own a firearm of any kind.

A person unknowing:

the actions performed by him,

born of greed, born of aversion,

& born of delusion,

whether many or few,

are experienced right here:

               no other ground is found.

So a monk, knowing,

               sheds

greed, aversion, & delusion;

giving rise to clear knowledge, he

               sheds

all bad destinations.

Nidana Sutta

Groundhog Day Dhamma

OK, stop throwing shade. I know I'm a day late on this. But when was the last time you knew of a gay man showing up on time for anything? I thought so. I was caught by surprise anyway to learn that it was already Groundhog Day. Somehow I envisioned this momentous event occurring a bit later. Had I known I would have thrown a special fete and bought a new shirt or something. Well, I did buy a couple CDs yesterday.

Anyway, while I was on a stationary bicycle at the gym trying to burn off some portliness I had accumulated during my absence from exercise the past six weeks because of a broken foot, I happened to see on the television screen on the stationary bicycle next to me (yes, those mini TV's are ubiquitous at just about every gym these days) Bill Murray in the scene from the movie "Groundhog Day" when he wakes up the day after Groundhog Day and realizes that he's finally broken the cycle of the same day being repeated over and over, leading him to nearly lose his mind.

Wow, that was a seriously long sentence.

But the point is when he wakes up on the morning after Groundhog Day, he realizes that he can move forward now. The joy it brings him is sublime. He experiences a satisfaction so supreme that he remains motivated to continue walking the same path that led him to cease being the self-centered and selfish prick he had been at the start of the movie.

I have always thought that this movie presented the principle theme of the Bhaddekaratta Sutta extraordinarily well.

o_O What has a movie featuring a corpulent rodent and an insensitive man who continually alienates himself from others because of his lack of compassion and empathy to do with the Buddha's Dhamma, you ask?

A lot more than you may think. And this movie is also instructive when you think about some of the other teachings of the Buddha I mention frequently in my blog posts.

Bill Murray's character, Phil, is a crass and insensitive television meteorologist who has the hots for Andie MacDowell's character, Rita, his producer. But Rita wants nothing to do with Phil because he is crass and insensitive. In fact, Phil's relationships with others are so poisoned by his flippant selfishness that his co-workers tolerate him solely because on air, his audience loves him.

People who are unlikable do not become unlikable in a moment; rather, such a person creates this persona over time with the way he or she manifests his or her intentions into actions or words while interacting with others. It is usually a gradual process, much like slowly adding salt to a large glass of water. If you add one salt crystal to the water, you will not taste it. But if you continue to add salt to the water, it will eventually become so salty it is undrinkable.

Phil is a glass of water so salty that no one wants to take even the merest sip. And the point is Phil has done this on his own through his interactions with his co-workers. As expected, he continues to behave the way he does with the expectation that others will accommodate his selfishness and self-absorbed ego as he and his crew travel to cover a weather forecasting "rat," as he calls Punxsutawney Phil.

And then a curious thing occurs. When Phil wakes up the following morning, he soon realizes that it is Groundhog Day all over again. The next day, the same. And the next day, and so on. Phil becomes frustrated because like many of us, he has always expected the world around him to accommodate his actions and character. But the world suddenly refuses to budge.

Slowly, Phil begins to adapt, shown when he learns to avoid the puddle he always steps in every morning. And he begins to see an opportunity to change, although his motivation remains selfish: he wants Rita.

Nothing wrong with starting a new path when motivated by selfish reasons. The point is to strike out a new path and stop doing everything the same way while still expecting different results. Much like the Buddha's teaching to his son Rahula, Phil reflects on his actions and the likely consequences they bring. He seeks a specific result - that Rita will fall in love with him - and so he gradually modifies his actions and his speech until he develops the behaviors that lead him to his desired result.

Along the way, something completely unintended occurs: Phil develops compassion. This is shown through his futile efforts to save a local homeless man and prevent his ultimate death. Phil believes, based on everything else he's been doing, that he can find a way to create a different tomorrow for this homeless man, but despite his repeated efforts, the man always dies.

Phil learns to let go. This is extraordinarily important. Because if Phil doesn't learn to let go, then his initial selfish motivation to change won't fully transform into real human compassion. But he does let go and his desire for Rita is no longer motivated by greed. Phil learns at last how to live within the moment, becoming fully aware that how he behaves right now is creating his future.

You shouldn't chase after the past

or place expectations on the future.

What is past

               is left behind.

The future

               is as yet unreached.

Whatever quality is present

you clearly see right there,

                  right there.

Just as the Buddha taught, Phil eventually realized the opportunity he had to change the direction of his karma, to ultimately erase his karma. We all have that same opportunity to do that. Every day is a new opportunity to become more aware of the present, another chance to relinquish our grip on the past, and recognize that what we think, say, and do in this moment will shape our future.

This is Buddhism. This is the path I strive to follow.

40 years after Roe

Forty years ago we got Roe v Wade. And the battle has waged ever since. Forgive the length of this post, but I want to share my thoughts on this divisive topic. And while my thoughts are not necessarily "Buddhist" in construction, how I feel about this topic is guided by my Buddhist understanding of how the world works.

First, I must clearly state that personally I believe that taking another person's life, including that of an unborn person, is simply wrong in any and all circumstances -- even in self-defense. I believe that way because killing another person represents an outcome one has hurled him or herself toward through a series of extraordinarily poor decisions that could have been interrupted just about anywhere along the way.

Having said that, should I find myself in a situation that defending my own life means taking another's, I suspect I will fight to the death. But if I should emerge from such a fray victorious, there will be consequences for my actions. Even if I am found legally innocent of any criminal act, I will nonetheless face the karmic consequences of my actions, consequences that may manifest themselves in any number of ways, not the least of which will be an unsettled mind that will on a daily basis struggle with what I did and how I might have avoided it.

I cannot foresee every situation, but I can take steps right now to avoid potential situations that may put me in a position of behaving in a manner contrary to the way I believe. And on occasion, despite my intentions, I do act unskillfully and find myself in awkward situations.

But I got there because of the choices I made, even when I thought the choices I was making were good ones.

Which is a long, round-about way of explaining why, despite my personal belief that taking someone's life, including that of the unborn, is always wrong and never without consequence, I will fight to ensure that abortion is kept legal and easily accessed.

To impose my personal belief on another person about whom I know nothing, about whose life challenges I know nothing, strikes me as a supreme form of righteousness that frankly makes me sick. Yes, perhaps that person made a series of poor decisions, but they were his or her decisions and to suggest that I know what consequences he or she should suffer and how these consequences out to be delivered when my own life is far from perfect - well, I'm not a Christian, but it seems to me that Jesus said something about fretting over the speck of dust in another person's eye while ignoring the rock in my own.

The Buddha taught us also that all our actions have consequence and that we cannot always predict the outcomes of our actions. Besides, there are some things, the Buddha taught, that we really don't need to know. Despite that he gave us tips, such as his guidance to his son Rahula, to avoid making unskillful choices, and with the simile of the salt crystal he explains that we have the ability to mitigate future consequences via our current actions. The Buddha is also quite clear with the story of Angulimala that while we have the option to renounce our past completely and pick up a new, more virtuous life - sort of like being 'born again' - we can never escape our past and the consequences we have set in motion.

Believing this, I know that anyone facing the ominous decision of abortion has been through a series of events leading her to that choice and that she will experience consequences unknown to me - and frankly none of my business - that she may or may not be able to resolve in her current life.

Even if you don't believe as I do, there are societal benefits to having legal access to abortion, and one of these benefits is not always part of the public discussion: The impact legal abortion has on crime.

What raised this connection was a 2001 study that is highly cited within the scientific literature and at the time of its release got a fair bit of attention in the popular press. But since then it has oddly disappeared from the primary discourse. The study notes that crime rates in the U.S. began a decline roughly 18 years after Roe v. Wade, and in states where abortion was already legal and widely available as early as 1970, crimes rights there began a similar decline much earlier than the rest.

While purely correlative, it does strongly suggest a causative relationship when you consider certain key facts about crime: who commits the most crime, and what environmental circumstances are more likely to lead a person to crime than others. Let's start with the last and work backwards.

For starters, it's pretty well established that low income areas have higher crime rates than more affluent neighborhoods; that low-income households produce more members who commit crime; that substance abuse is strongly connected with crime. In my journalism career I've worked with many police chiefs and sheriffs who repeatedly said that if we, as a society, could get a handle on substance abuse, crime would drop out of sight - especially alcohol abuse. While things like meth and crack and other harder drugs certainly are connected with crime, the law enforcement folk I worked with universally said alcohol abuse is the number one problem.

It is also pretty well established that those who regularly commit crime are individuals with a number of behavioral and character flaws. Often these flaws develop in childhood while being raised in highly stressed households, either economically or emotionally. For about 15 years I worked with delinquent and emotionally disturbed children and not a single one of them was unable to sense on some level that their parents just really didn't want them. As one boy told me, "My mother had a choice to keep me or the dog. She kept the dog."

Growing up in that type of environment frequently leads to substance abuse, which law enforcement will universally will say is the sin quo non of most crime. Substance abuse impairs one's decision making skills, and criminal activity is the result of flawed decisions.

Next, who commits the most crime? Crime statistics year after year report the same thing: most crime is committed by young men between the ages of 18 and about 26. In fact, it is mostly young men of color.

Maybe it's starting to become clear how abortion plays into this. Because a reasonable hypothesis to make based on the above information is that there ought to be a decline in the population most likely to commit a crime roughly 18 years after abortion becomes legal, which in turn should result in a decline in the number of crimes committed.

And that's exactly what this country saw. Just take some time and look at this chart. Starting in 1960, the data shows crime continuing to rise along with population. But low and behold, beginning in 1991, we see that trend reversing! And when we look at the specific types of crimes more likely to be committed by a young male - property crimes, robbery, and vehicle theft - the reversal in trend is even more pronounced despite a few stutters between 1991-93. There's even a reversal in murders committed started in 1993.

Granted, this does not on its own suggest a causative relationship, but it's nonetheless worth noting and worth further study. It's quite reasonable to conclude - and Occam's razor would suggest this as well - that with abortion legal and widely available, you have fewer unwanted children born and being raised in highly-stressed conditions that are very closely associated with anti-social behavior such as substance abuse and criminal activity.

In Buddhism, virtually all unskillful behavior arises out of either greed, hatred, or delusion. As a man, let alone a gay man, imposing on women this notion that they must carry to birth all pregnancies no matter how conceived is far more evil than terminating an unwanted pregnancy.

Any woman who faces that choice is facing a terrible decision, and not all of them do so with caprice. In fact, I firmly believe that most do not look at such a choice without it weighing heavy on their hearts and minds.

It is their choice and should remain so.

Requiem for a true friend

On Thanksgiving Day before my brother and his wife and my sister and her husband arrived for the weekend, I got in a workout at the gym and then met a friend afterward for lunch. We went to Chinatown on the north side in Uptown and ate at Pho 777 where Stephen filled me in on how his medical internship was going.

Stephen speaks English very well. He’s from Taiwan and here on a visa completing a medical residency/internship program that has been really difficult for him at a Chicago hospital. Although he speaks English very well, his listening comprehension isn’t quite as good, particularly if the English speaker is a non-native English speaker. It’s been very stressful for him; at one point he was ready to give up and go back to Taiwan where he is already a licensed radiologist. But he selected internal medicine for his residency program in the U.S.

Anyway, we had lunch and I listened to him, encouraged that his really difficult rotations were about to end. He was optimistic that his next two rotations won’t be as difficult.

After lunch I returned home knowing that I would need to feed Symba again. Following the surgery in early October that removed a horrible infection in his mouth – and which revealed that he had a very aggressive form of cancer – he could only eat soft food from a can. The surgery removed most of his teeth and he needed to gain weight. His appetite was voracious, and he managed to keep the food down as well. His coat was gradually getting shinier, although he wasn’t grooming himself. However, brushing him we both enjoyed as it gave me some quality time with him. I knew his days were numbered.

When I returned home Symba was snoozing on his usual spot – a small pile of brown grocery sacks on the kitchen table. He perked up when he saw me, anticipating his feast as I got the canned food out as well as some dishes. He meowed nosily as usual. When he jumped down from his spot on the table I noticed some dried blood on his right front leg. There was no injury to the leg, but it looked like he may have been bleeding from the mouth. This happened before and the incident was brief despite being quite alarming. It was a small amount of dried blood, so I just made a mental not to keep track of these incidents.

Symba wolfed his food as usual. It was quite obvious there were no issues with his appetite, not that there ever was really. I gave Tazz some soft food also, although just a tiny amount as Tazz was able to eat the dry food left out for him. I then went to clean up some new hairballs Tazz had hurled on the carpet. I had returned to the kitchen where I was rinsing out the rag I used to clean these spots up when I noticed Symba at the kitchen doorway.

Although sitting on his haunches, he was very unsteady, his body teetering side to side, and there was bright red blood dripping from his mouth. He then took his paw and furiously pawed at the side of his head as if there was something crawling all over his face. I crouched down next to him to get a closer look, to try and determine what happened, what I should do. I petted him as I examined his mouth – he immediately sensed my petting and responded with affection – and saw with this incident there was a lot more blood than before.

And he was still bleeding.

Then the most extraordinary event occurred, something I will find hard to forget. Symba’s entire front end, his front legs and all just collapsed as he fell face-first to the floor, his hind legs still up. His body was stiff and he uttered a baleful meow that was quickly followed by his back end falling sideways to the floor.

Alright, I’m not sure of the exact sequence of events, but somewhere in all this I got my phone and called my vet, who I knew wouldn’t answer, but I also knew the message at the office would have the phone number for the pet emergency hospital. Symba seemed to recover somewhat. He sat up, shook his head, which nearly knocked him over because he was so unsteady, and then he got back up on the kitchen table to be on his pile of grocery sacks just like he always did after eating. The hemorrhaging had abated, but there were drips of blood coming from his mouth. Symba looked really out of it.

I got the pet emergency hospital on the phone and began describing what was going on. When Symba collapsed, it was just like the videos I had seen in the past of farm animals when they founder – the collapse begins at the front of the body with the back end falling 2 to 3 seconds later. I got directions to the hospital, then went to get the travel cage as I called my brother to find out where he and his wife were. It was about 3 p.m. I think and I was expecting them around 5. He said they were in Indiana, so they weren’t that far. I told them I might not be home when they got to my apartment, so would they mind waiting in the street until I got back?

“I think Symba is dying,” I said.

It was difficult for me to drive at first. Seriously, I was freaking out and starting to cry. Symba was starting to bleed again. But I told myself it wouldn’t do anyone any good if I crash the car because I’m blubbering and couldn’t see the road or wasn’t paying attention. So I pulled it together and began the drive. One thing nice about Chicago on Thanksgiving: traffic is not a problem. Symba traveled as best as can be expected, but I think he went through another one of those collapses about half-way to the animal hospital.

The pet emergency room was a bit busy when I arrived with at least a dozen other people there. I put the pet carrier on the counter as I told the receptionist I was there and that I had called just a bit ago.

“And what is Symba’s problem?” The receptionist kindly asked. Consternation is such a mild term, but it described her expression as she looked at the pet carrier while I spoke.

“He’s hemorrhaging from the mouth and I think he’s been seizing.”

I didn’t have to wait; she took me to an examination room and called for a physician. They began examining Symba as I retold the sequence of events. When they went to weigh him, he seized again as he was being placed on the scale. They took Symba to another examination room where they sought to raise his body temperature and observe him. The doctor came back and we talked options. She explained that she believed that he was almost blind, that he saw motion, but it didn’t appear that he could clearly see forms. The size of his head and the shape of his skull suggested that the cancer was not just in his jaw, but very likely in his brain. There were tests if I wanted them done …

I had heard enough.

They brought Symba back to me. He was wrapped up in soft blankets to keep him warm. I held him in my arms and gently stroked the back of his head. I was left alone with him for a while. He responded affectionately to my petting, pushing his head against my hand as he always did. But one thing I noticed right away: he wasn’t purring.

After a few minutes the doctor returned and explained the procedure. I requested that I be allowed to hold him when it happened. They took Symba for just a few minutes to insert a catheter into his left foreleg, then returned him to my lap. First they sedated him. He quietly went limp in my arms. Then they injected him with propofol, the same drug that killed Michael Jackson.

I kept petting Symba as I told the vet about how I had Symba since he was a kitten, that he was rescued from the pound when he was 6 weeks old. I then handed Symba to her. Would I like to take his ashes home, she asked?

I shook my head. “Symba’s gone. That’s just a body.”

They did make a paw print, however, and gave that to me. A very cute Asian boy cleaned the blood out of his carrier for me. And then I drove back home to meet my brother and his wife. We later went out to eat dinner.

So why am I telling you all this? It’s not for sympathy. I guess it’s partly to get things out of my head in a thoughtful, cogent way. But it’s also to talk about kamma.

Yes, I created some kamma that day when I agreed to have Symba killed. You can call it euthanasia, “putting him down,” “putting him to sleep,” whatever pretty little name or phrase you like. It doesn’t change the fact that Symba is dead because I killed him. You can rationalize all you want, but Symba died at the moment that he did die because I authorized someone to kill him. You can say he was going to die anyway, but that can be said for all of us. We’re all going to die. In this case I deliberately and with forethought had Symba killed.

But here’s where I think many are wrong. Some may say that it was the compassionate thing to do. Perhaps. Some may say that by my doing this, I’ve interfered with Symba’s experiencing his own kamma. Maybe. I say the truth lies somewhere in the middle.

Symba’s kamma and my kamma are not isolated from one another. Just as the Buddha taught, kamma is not linear, but involves multiple feedback loops over time and even lifetimes. With the simile of the Salt Crystal the Buddha teaches us that even with very bad things that we’ve done, we have every succeeding moment to work through and eliminate the kamma we create.

But we don’t create kamma alone. My own kamma and Symba’s kamma were intertwined. We were both suffering. While one may say that to kill him would be interfering with Symba’s kamma, one may also say for me to allow “nature to run its course” could potentially interfere with my kamma. It’s simply not black and white.

No living creature wants to die. Even the tiniest spider will do all it can to preserve its life. Heck, even an amoeba will flee from pain. Which is why, when given the opportunity and even the advice to kill Symba earlier on as soon as cancer was even a possibility, I rejected the idea of killing Symba despite most advising it. If that’s really how we’re going to manage life, then my parents should have killed me when I was 2 years old and stricken with pneumonia. We’re all going to die anyway, right? Why go through all that suffering?

Symba didn’t need the power of speech to tell me he didn’t want to die. And it’s not difficult to conclude that I didn’t want to see him suffer any longer. What I wanted to avoid for both my own and Symba’s sake was turning this event into a matter of convenience.

Some may say my decision was still ultimately made around a notion of convenience. I do not disagree. Just remember, you weren’t there.

Symba: May 1, 1996 - Nov. 24, 2011

Selfishness disguised as compassion, or kamma can suck

For the past several days I’ve been struggling over what to do with my cat, Symba. He’s been sniffling and sneezing and losing weight, which I largely attributed to some type of severe allergy or sinus infection. However, there was a key symptom I wasn’t paying attention to: Symba’s breath was awful smelling, like rot. Everything else was beguilingly normal; all his other body functions were operating, shall we say, unimpeded. And he was especially perky whenever I fed him and Tazz, my other cat, soft food.

When I finally took Symba in to see the vet, the news was dire. It wasn’t merely nasal congestion or some allergy going on. It was an infection, but it was in his mouth. He had already lost several teeth, his breath smelled rotten because of all the pus building in his gums and even the roof of his mouth, which was starting to look like maggot-ridden hamburger. The swelling from the pus on his right cheek was so intense it was ready to burst through the outside of his cheek; the vet showed me the spot where hair was starting to disappear. That’s why he was constantly rubbing and grooming that side of his head with a paw. And that’s why he showed excitement when I brought out the soft food, because his mouth hurt so much to eat dry food.

I was overwhelmed with sadness, but it wasn’t for Symba – it was all about me. I hadn’t recognized it fully, however, at that moment. Oh, I knew I felt guilt for not paying closer attention to Symba’s symptoms. And I felt guilt over not listening to a vet 8 years ago who told me that Symba was developing gum disease that ought to be taken care of. But when he told me that it would cost $150 to clean his teeth when I hadn’t gone to a dentist in years to take care of my own teeth, I said no. Now I was looking at major surgery for Symba to the tune of at least $900, potentially more.

There was the possibility, the vet told me, that Symba’s problems were entirely restricted to this awful – and I mean AWFUL – mouth infection. She said there was a possibility he may have bone cancer in the jaw as well. If that were the case, she recommended putting him down. But there was a catch. She would need to begin the surgery on his mouth before she could see and determine if cancer were present. And even then, it may not be immediately obvious, which would then necessitate a biopsy. Biopsy results could take a couple days, meaning the mouth surgery would be completed and a few days after his return home, the biopsy result would be available.

This all meant that I could end up spending more than $900 only to learn later that Symba’s days were over. That bugged me. Really bugged me. But a voice inside reminded me had I listened to that vet 8 years ago and paid the $150 then, I wouldn’t be faced with $900 now.

This was all on Thursday. The vet told me she couldn’t do the surgery until Monday. If all went well, Symba could be home that evening. If it were just the mouth infection, she said his prognosis was actually excellent. Symba wouldn’t have any teeth, but should fully recover. They had a plan, also, that would allow me to pay for the surgery over time, interest free. I qualified, so I agreed to schedule the surgery for Monday with the knowledge that I still had the weekend to think things over.

That evening I had dinner over at a friend’s house. He gave me very practical feedback. I don’t have $900, this would add to my debt load, even if only temporarily, he told me. Symba was 15 years old, he’s lived a good life. I gave him an excellent home, took care of him and loved him. I shouldn’t feel guilty over not addressing the gum disease issue in the past. I also had my own life situation to consider. My cat food costs would like go up after this because I would need to buy soft food more frequently, so long term my expenses would rise. I needed to think about myself in this situation as well.

It was all very persuasive. My friend made excellent and valid points. I didn’t have any money, no savings at all, and Symba was 15 years old, at the high end of a cat’s normal life span. Even if the surgery was successful and there was no cancer, how many more years would I be giving to Symba?

Friday I worked at home, although frankly, I was not very productive. I struggled with my decision. I couldn’t ignore the cost and the impact that would have on me.

Symba seemed to sense something was troubling me. He came out of his corner where he’s been spending his days, the lower shelf on a small case where I keep grocery bags, and came into my home office. He looked at me, meowed loudly (I think he’s deaf now, and that may be the result of the infection as well), then jumped into my lap. I reclined back into my chair and he laid his frail body against me and began to purr. I understood now why his fur was so ratty looking; he wasn’t grooming himself because of the mouth infection. I knew why he had lost weight; because it hurt his mouth to eat the dry food. I was overwhelmed with sadness and guilt. I apologized to him. I did this to him. I had failed. And the decision to have him put down was beginning to take shape.

But it was still all about me.

I was ready to take him to the animal hospital that moment and have it done. But there was somebody else I wanted to talk to first. Benny. So I left a message for Benny to give me a call. While waiting for Benny’s call, I drove to Whole Foods to pick up some items with the idea that I would park my car on the street when I got back, making it easier to bring Symba down to the car to take him to the vet. But when I returned from Whole Foods, there were no street parking spaces, so I drove back to the alley to my garage.

Back inside, I tried to do a little work, responded to some emails, and then Benny called. We chatted for a bit and he said something that surprised me. Benny’s known about my Buddhist practice, I even tried to teach him meditation but he didn’t stick with it. He said that my dilemma sounded like something I should meditate on.

Duh. When was the last time I meditated? My practice had really gone to shit. It must have been weeks, perhaps months, since I last mediated. What was up with that? After my call with Benny, that’s exactly what I did, I went to the cushion.

It was a struggle. My mind was all over the place. Rather than attempt to “think” about anything, my decision or whatever, I just brought my mind back to my breath. Over and over it would run wild into this or that thought, and I would each time bring it back to the breath. By then end of the session, I had achieved some semblance of mental calm. I then began my normal routine of chanting some Pali verses after the silent sit. Needless to say I got a bit choked up when I said out loud, “May all beings be free from suffering.” But what really got to me was reciting the Five Recollections.

“I am of the nature to grow old, I have not got beyond aging.
“I am of the nature to be sick, I have not got beyond disease.
“I am of the nature to die, I have not got beyond death.
“All that is mine, beloved, and pleasing, changes and vanishes.
“I am the owner of my kamma, the creator of my kamma, born of my kamma, related to my kamma, abide supported in my kamma; whatever kamma I create – skillful or unskillful, light or dark – to that I fall heir.”

My voice trembled as I recited this, but something was coming up. Something was rising.

I went back to my computer and began a search with the terms “euthanizing pets Buddhism.” The discussion was all over the place, but I began to see a common thread. And in particular, it was discussion on how our sense of compassion may not really be compassion at all, but a mask to cover up selfish intentions. We tell ourselves that our beloved pet is suffering and so we seek to end that suffering. At the other extreme is the notion we should never euthanize our pets because they have their own kamma to work through and by euthanizing them we’re interfering with that. I found that argument to be bullshit, largely because it presumes that we “know” what kamma the animal has and must deal with. Now that is ego to the extreme. Plus, such a position logically leads us never to intervene when anyone is sick because we might be interfering with their kamma. That’s just crazy.

But the notion that the option of euthanizing an animal was merely a smoke-screen covering up our own discomfort with disease and death was resonating with me. The more I began to re-evaluate Symba’s symptoms, the more I began to see that the likelihood he also had cancer was extremely low. I’ve had pets that were on death’s door because of either feline leukemia or another terminal illness. It was clear that they were close to death because they weren’t eating, some couldn’t even lift up their head and they could barely respond to any type of affection.

Beyond the fact that he had a horrible mouth, Symba was still Symba. He remained affectionate and even playful, particularly if he knew I was preparing soft food for him.

We all get sick. Sometimes really, really sick. But we don’t die from every illness. Not every illness is fatal. In fact, we recover from really major illnesses all the time.

And so do animals.

I do have responsibility for Symba’s illness. After all, I cannot ignore the fact that I did not heed the advice of that vet 8 years ago. Symba’s and my kamma are connected. And this got me thinking of the simile of the salt crystal. I can’t erase my negligence and selfishness entirely all in one sweep, but I do have an opportunity to remedy this and eliminate not just my kamma but Symba’s as well. And when I came to that realization, this burden I had been feeling was completely lifted. I felt light and at ease, like a shadow that never leaves.

So I will be bringing Symba in on Monday morning, but it will be for the surgery. Certainly there is the possibility that he has cancer and in that case, we’ll put him down. But I truly believe that is a slim chance. Despite that, I am comfortable with my decision. Symba doesn’t want to die and he doesn’t need to now. For me to think I would be doing him a favor by euthanizing him was delusion.

This time the decision was about Symba.

Buddhist Warfare, Chapter 1

In the song, “With God on Our Side,” Bob Dylan sings of how peoples and nations rationalize war against each other, that their aggression is necessary and justifiable because they have God on their side. This notion of having God on your side is an important concept when looking at the first essay in “Buddhist Warfare,” a piece written by Paul Demiéville titled “Buddhism and War.”

Demiéville correctly points out how the Dhamma has been rationalized throughout the centuries following the Buddha’s death. One of the simplest rationalizations, he notes, is that life is suffering and if killing ends life, then it also ends suffering. This rationalization, Demiéville shows us, is at the heart of many Mahayana traditions that largely developed in China where a militaristic culture already existed and which was ready to co-opt Buddhist doctrine to lend legitimacy to its politics (kind of sounds like the Republican Party in the U.S.).

The author points out how China, Japan, Korea and other parts of East Asia already had well-established warrior cultures that were largely supported by Confucian thought. The rulers and warlords adopted Buddhism to gain a military advantage, rationalizing and altering the teachings to show that their actions were right and good and their enemy’s actions were wrong and evil. At the same time, Buddhist monks were looking for political favoritism and weren’t shy about re-interpreting the Dharma to please their kings. Even the Buddha walked a delicate line regarding this issue (which is covered a bit more in the next article in the book).

During the first thousand years CE in China, for example, we see may Buddhist cults arise each with militaristic behaviors and practices led by charismatic monks who professed to have supernatural powers. This made these monks very attractive to the rulers and warlords who saw befriending and supporting such monks and their followers as politically astute.

However true this may be, I am troubled by the way Demiéville portrays these histories as being “Buddhist,” laying the groundwork for the assertion that Buddhism itself is at fault for the arising of these warlike doctrines. These histories are no more “Buddhist” than Cromwell’s attacks were “Puritan” or even “Christian,” despite the fact that religious beliefs and doctrines played a key role in Cromwell’s war mongering. Demiéville’s citing the rise of the Shaolin and other warrior monks is not evidence of “Buddhist violence,” but rather evidence of people who identify as Buddhist being violent.

Demiéville also makes a few really weak assertions by drawing connections so vague as to be rightly ridiculed with uncontrolled laughter. For example he writes: “We know that the Boxers who rose up against foreigners at the end of the nineteenth century, and besieged the Peking delegation in 1900, were part of a secret society with more or less Buddhist origins.” Italics are mine. When I read that, I was like, WTF?

What I really found interesting was Demiéville’s mentioning of Yi-hiuan, a ninth-Century Chinese monk who is credited with the ubiquitous phrase, “Kill the Buddha.” It was revealing enough that he would cite the founder of the Lin-tsi sect to lend credence to the concept that Buddhism inherently lends itself to the arising of violent doctrines; but what really caught my eye was all the attention this part of the book garnered on the Internet. When you Google “Yi-hiuan” the results are dominated by a review of “Buddhist Warfare” by Katherine Wharton. Her referencing this particular item in Demiéville’s article was in turned referenced multiple times by many others, including an article by Marin E. Marty in The Christian Post, whose comments also get reprinted all over the Web. Kyle at The Reformed Buddhist had plenty to say about Wharton’s review, thanking Barbara O’Brien for her dissection of Wharton’s review and sophomoric conclusions.

I found this discussion interesting because of how it reflects something the Buddha warned Ananda about just before his death. Ananda asks the Buddha who will lead the Sangha after the Buddha dies, to which the Buddha replies that there will be no successor because there is no position to be succeeded. He directs Ananda and the others to be “islands unto yourselves, refuges unto yourselves, seeking no external refuge…”

It is worth pointing out that transmission of the Buddha’s Dhamma was initially oral. The Buddha knew that writing down the Dhamma would present problems and he cautioned against those that would come in the future and change his teachings. And when things get written down, they can suddenly take on an undeserved credibility.

This seems to be what happened with Katherine Wharton’s review, which if you read it closely seems to suggest that the only part of “Buddhist Warfare” that she read was the chapter penned by Demiéville. Her words get picked up by others, such as Marty, and are spread about the Web and get read widely despite the suspect nature of her conclusions.

Even Demiéville shows how this happened with the development of Zen in Japan, which began as a very well-cultured and educated school of Buddhism that required strict discipline in the practice. These very traits were used by militaristic individuals, including Zen priests, to train soldiers in the correct use of weapons. This is cited as another example of the alleged warlike nature of Buddhist doctrine. These elements of Zen were in turn bifurcated into other schools and doctrines. Ryogen encouraged the preservation of the “real law,” or Mahayana, against the lesser counterfeit laws of the Lesser Vehicle, or Hinayana, that of the pratyeka-buddha, which he likened to be weed-like akin to underbrush that cannot rid itself. Nichiren advocated ignoring the precepts because if an action is protected by the Greater Vehicle, it was justified. Ergo, we see the development of the line of thought that killing and war can be justified as means to reach a higher, nobler end.

In the end, what Demiéville demonstrates are numerous fine examples of how individuals twisted the Dhamma to create their own lineage and to justify the elimination of enemies. These efforts were rewarded and protected by the rulers and the powerful of the times. But to use these examples to support the assertion that Buddhism condones violence, that it rationalizes violence, is in my opinion just plain wrong. Yes, there are “teachers” and those who founded new schools of Buddhism long after the Buddha’s death that advocate, condone and rationalize violent behavior, but to suggest that these new lineages are correctly interpreting the Buddha’s guidance on such matters is weak.

Yes Virginia there is right and wrong

Within Buddhist circles, you eventually hear someone say that there is no right and wrong, that these terms merely represent a dualistic form of thinking that creates imaginary categories that are empty.

On one level, I believe that to be true. On another level, I believe such talk is total nonsense. And it is this type of Wrong Thinking that in my view leads others to conclude that Buddhism is amoral.

There is right and wrong in Buddhism. In fact, the Buddha made a list to show us that there is right and wrong. He called this list The Noble Eightfold Path. Because in order to have Right View, you must abandon Wrong View; if you want to develop Right Intention, you must abandon Wrong Intention; if you want to develop Right Speech, you must abandon Wrong Speech; to develop Right Action, you must abandon Wrong Action; to engage in Right Livelihood, you must abandon Wrong Livelihood; to develop Right Effort, you must abandon Wrong Effort; to develop Right Mindfulness, you must avoid Wrong Mindfulness; and to achieve Right Concentration, you must abandon Wrong Concentration.

That’s the Buddha’s rap folks – there is Right and Wrong.

These items in The Noble Eightfold Path are further categorized by the Buddha pertaining to how an item in the path relates to one of the three basic elements of the Buddhist practice: Panna, or wisdom; Samadhi, or concentration; and Sila, or virtue. That’s right! Virtue is a key element of the Buddhist practice. It’s what following the Five Precepts is all about – developing virtue!

Where the confusion arises is in the way we Westerners tend to view these terms right and wrong. While these terms are synonymous with “correct” and “incorrect,” when speaking about human behavior, these terms are generally imbued with moralistic tones that derive from our shared monotheistic background. Something is morally right or morally wrong because an action is considered morally right by the assertion that it is a directive from a higher power or that it pleases a higher power, and if an action is contrary to that higher power’s directive or displeases that higher power, then that action is deemed morally wrong.

But that’s not the way these terms work in Buddhism. Whether an action or other phenomenon can be consider “right” or “wrong” is not determined by a third-party entity, but rather by the results created by that phenomenon. The phenomenon is “right” when it results in the alleviating one’s own suffering, the suffering of others, or one’s one suffering and the suffering of others. The phenomenon is wrong when it results in increased suffering for self, increased suffering for others, or increased suffering for both self and others. And yes, the Buddha also spoke of morally neutral actions, actions that neither alleviate nor cause suffering for self or others.

Results are not always just immediate. We can engage in actions that bring us the immediate result of diminishing our own suffering. But actions set in motion many things, and there may be later results that lead to us suffering more. So while an action may look “right” in the short term, that same action may later be revealed to be quite wrong.

It’s not that difficult to grasp. The Buddha taught his son Rahula this when the boy was just 7 years old. But again and again, discussions about morality veer way off into the very highest limbs and the remotest leaves of the tallest simsapa trees.

Now granted, it is important for us to understand why a wrong action is a wrong action. It’s important to understand why it’s wrong so that we can stop committing that action. But not understanding why something is wrong should never hinder us from stopping that action. And even if I never fully understand why something is wrong, if I’m convinced it is by other reasons, then I am doing something very skillful by ceasing that action. I will get good results regardless of whether I understand why a former action was wrong. And for many people, that’s good enough.

While Buddhism is pretty simple, it is also quite subtle. While a wrong action will often bring immediate or near term bad results, the Buddha taught a theory of karma that diverged significantly from the dominate theory in India at the time. Despite the fact we may commit a wrong act in the present, we have the opportunity to diminish its continual negative influence over time through engaging in Right Action. While the Buddha, for example, told soldiers that by developing proper mental attitudes during battle would reduce the karmic impact of their actions – killing people – he was quite clear that the soldiers would never escape those karmic consequences. With the simile of the salt crystal, the Buddha explains if we’re lucky enough and have enough time, we can correct and change future outcomes for previous bad acts. He says this also to Angulimala when he tells the former robber and murderer to quit his whining: by suffering now Angulimala can avoid the torment of eons in a hell realm.

This is why I have lately said that there is no moral right to do anything, but there are consequences for everything. We may feel that we “deserve” to react to someone or something in a particular way, and we may opt to follow on our impulse or belief. As Clint Eastwood classically said in “The Unforgiven,” “Deserves got nothing to do with it.”

But no matter how we rationalize our action later, no matter how vehemently we seek to justify our action, our action creates consequences, both short and long term. We could, for example, feel great at the moment, but later feel remorse and guilt for years. Do what you will, but you shall reap what you sow. You are where you are because you went there.

Trapped in dogma

During a recent online debate on a Yahoo! Buddhist group, I happily stumbled upon the Maha-kammavibhanga Sutta (MN 136). It was a delightful find, because the message within this sutta is particularly applicable to the gay community.

There are really two messages being delivered by the Buddha in this sutta: one is regarding the trap of dogma, and the other is that kamma operates in such a complex manner that even the well-learned student of Buddhism can have difficulty understanding it. Kamma is one of those Buddhist paradoxes: the concept is very simple – when this is, that is – but how kamma operates is extraordinarily arcane.

For example, why is it that person A, who’s been a slut all his life and has the emotional warmth of a lizard is still alive and healthy while person B – who everyone recognizes is the sweetest guy around, who has been a community activist most of his life, and who has been loyal to his partner – dies of AIDS at a young age?

Imagine this being taken a step further, however, because in the Maha-kammavibhanga Sutta, the Buddha offers the scenario of someone having the ability, through meditation, to see what happens to these people after they die. Suppose you were able to discern that a violently homophobic man who brutally murders a gay man winds up reborn as an animal after death? What might you generalize from this?

The Buddha explains with examples, such as of a learned monk who, during meditation, reaches a state of concentration when he “sees” what happens after death to someone who has committed transgressions: that person goes to hell. From that “insight,” a very rigid conclusion is reached that all people who commit transgressions are destined for hell. Rather than true insight, this point of view becomes trapped in a narrow dogma.

How many of us are trapped in dogma? Such rigid dogma is all over the place within the gay community when you think about it. We even have terms to identify these dogmas and place people in their respective “camps.” There are the “sex-positive” queers; the “circuit boys;” the “assimilation-ists.” There are those who believe that monogamy and nesting is the only responsible way to express our sexuality, and anyone who has multiple partners is irresponsible. And there are others who believe that having multiple partners unencumbered by the heterosexist norm of marriage is the only true way to express our homosexuality, while the pro-marriage folk haven’t fully come to grips with their sexuality and still secretly wish they were straight.

Does this sound like anyone you know?

The Buddha in his great teaching on kamma explains that such a rigid interpretation of kamma is false. That, in fact, there are people who commit transgressions during life and who reach heavenly states after death; conversely, there are people who live virtuous lives who at times find themselves in hell after death. The Buddha’s point is that kamma is a complex interaction of many events, intentions and actions, and the results of kamma develop in different ways for different people. Add to that the fact that we cannot know everything about a person’s life experiences, so how can we possibly know what type of kamma he or she is developing?

That, however, hasn’t stopped us from talking like we do know someone else’s kamma, or that we do know how kamma functions for us in light of the precepts – particularly the Third and Fifth precepts. For example, a gay man who is in an open relationship mutually agreed upon with his partner may believe that his kamma is “good” because he finds his other sex partners at bars or circuit events. And this same person may have a dim view of someone who seeks partners in a bathhouse. Yet, the guy in the bathhouse may completely abstain from all drugs and alcohol and practices safe-sex only.

What of the closeted gay married to a woman? He is the guy who has long ago stopped having sex with his wife, but continues to furtively masturbate to gay porn. He’s remained faithful to his wife, hasn’t he? The Third Precept has been kept, right? And yet he is miserable. What type of rebirth is he destined for?

What can get overlooked in discussions like these is that the men I previously described are equally “trapped” by the fetters of their sensual desires. They are all accumulating kamma, a kamma that will play a deterministic role in their rebirth. The Buddha did not teach that following his path meant the accumulation of kamma; rather, he teaches that liberation from suffering is accomplished through the diminishment of kamma.

We all want to understand the nature of kamma. But more and more I am realizing that all I can really discern is whether the actions, thoughts and words I am involved in during the here and now are paving the way for future benefit, the future diminishment of kamma. And I must be prepared for unexpected results that may be the fruition of kamma that might have a source I cannot identify. Which is why I find refuge in the Lonaphala Sutta (AN 3.99), The Salt Crystal.

Gay or lesbian, I believe we can be sexual beings and live a moral life; the Buddha’s teachings not only allow for this, but provide very useful guidance on this. But of the three ailments all of us humans suffer from – greed, hatred, and delusion – the ailment of delusion is the most difficult to deal with because it can be the most difficult to identify within ourselves.

By the way, I want to thank everyone for reading my posts and for your comments. Keep them coming.