Bid adieu to your ennui

It has been months since I posted something, and even before that last post, my contributions to this blog have been sporadic. And to some extent, uninspired. There was something creeping into my life. It's called ennui.

I knew it was there, but last night as I walked through Boys Town feeling morose and unwanted (I was totally channeling Linda Ronstadt), I overheard a couple gay boys at least half my age chatting behind me: "We're celebrating our six-year anniversary," said one.

Bitch.

Then I read a message from someone I've been texting with and whom I was planning to meet in a couple weeks: "I hope you aren't expecting anything more than conversation when we meet."

Double bitch.

And this all leads me to recall a conversation I had earlier in the evening. I was dining at a vegan restaurant in Old Town with a colleague from work. She and I had a wonderful time: the food was excellent, I brought a fabulous wine to share, and our conversation was bright and happy and thrilling. Being the social media fanatics she and I are, we both checked in on FourSquare and we got a special - free desert.

When dinner was over and we examined the desert menu, I suggested the blueberry cheesecake because I thought the blueberries would go well with the remaining wine. My mind was totally in the realm of cheesecake and all that word means to me. So when the cheesecake was delivered to our table, its appearance immediately struck me as odd. And when I tasted it, the texture was not at all what I expected.

I was disappointed. I said as much, noting that it was good, but it was not what I expected at all. My friend gently reminded me that we were dining in a vegan restaurant, so traditional cheesecake would not be served. I said to her, "You know, it's funny how it is most often our expectations about something that create our disappointment, not the thing itself. This cheesecake is really quite fine, but because I had expected something creamy and smooth and decidedly not vegan, I was unhappy."

Yes, our expectations. Not the thing itself. This is so basic Four Noble Truths kind of stuff that I feel like I should cancel my subscription to the Dhamma and quickly find a bed of nails to lie on. It's just as my friend Curt recently said: "We've got to get you out of this rut you're in, Richard."

And that word "rut" was so apropos. I had been in both a mental and sexual rut, honing in on deliciously young men whom I was successfully converting into a series of trysts. It was making me feel adequate because look at me! I'm a 54-year-old man and see this cute 20-something with me? But the trouble has been most 20-somethings aren't ready to settle down into anything long-term; they want to play just as much as I do. And the ones that say they do want something long term, well, have you ever tried having a conversation with someone who is less than half your age? I often can't even find any musical interests that we share in common.

So there it is - ennui staring me in the face. And it's because I've been spending a lot of time on the outside of me. I've been kicking my ass in a good way at the gym, losing weight and toning up. I've started attending a yoga class that has really helped my flexibility and my overall sense of health. And while I have been chanting and meditating, it's not as regular as I feel it should be. And frankly, I haven't read any Dhamma since ...

My friend Curt is right. I need to find a way out of this rut of endlessly pursuing younger men with whom I have nothing in common other than an overactive libido. Because that day will come when I no longer got it going on. Maybe it's because of my stroke earlier in the year. You'd never know just by looking at me that I had one. But there may be a thought nugget inside my mind that is telling me to live it up as much as I can because I may not be so lucky with the next one. It's as though I'm Jack Nicholson in "Five Easy Pieces" when he attempts to reconcile his relationship with his father who's been incapacitated by a devastating stroke.

So there it is. There it is, really, for all of us. Because in some manner, we are all creating our own disappointment with everything, our own dissatisfaction, and we're doing it via our expectations.

Dear Bill Maher

I have always liked your commentary on world events. I have always considered your perspective on politics and the affairs of mankind insightful and cutting. But now I have to ask whether you have suffered some type of traumatic cognitive disorder.

Your recent comments regarding Buddhism seem to be uncharacteristically pedestrian and sophomoric. And I mean literally sophomoric. It is as if, like a 15-year-old high school student, you were asked to write a report on “What is Buddhism” and you cited a single source. I’m sure you have a crack research staff, but in this particular instance, they have let you down. And the fact that you accepted their research unfortunately portrays you as a rather shallow person, less than informed and easily duped into accepting knee-jerk definitions in much the same way as a Pat Roberson or a James Dobson.

Yes, your comments about Buddhism are that pathetic.

“(Buddhism) really is outdated in some ways — the ‘Life sucks, and then you die’ philosophy was useful when Buddha came up with it around 500 B.C., because back then life pretty much sucked, and then you died – but now we have medicine, and plenty of food, and iPhones, and James Cameron movies – our life isn’t all about suffering anymore. And when we do suffer, instead of accepting it we try to alleviate it.”

First of all, when you say that “when we do suffer, instead of accepting it we try to alleviate it,” reveals your ignorance of Buddhism. The Buddha did, indeed, teach that life sucks; but he also taught that there is something we can do about it so that when we do die, we die happy. And iPhones and James Cameron movies have nothing to do with that.

“Tiger said, ‘Buddhism teaches that a craving for things outside ourselves’) makes us unhappy, which confirms something I’ve long suspected about Eastern religions: they’re a crock, too…Craving for things outside ourselves is what makes life life — I don’t want to learn to not want, that’s what people in prison have to do. Buddhism teaches suffering is inevitable. The only thing that’s inevitable is that if you have fake boobs and hair extensions, Tiger Woods will try to fuck you.”

Oh you silly and deluded quasi-comedic political pundit. Since when is Tiger Woods, a golfer, a spokesman for Buddhists? Does that mean that Woody Harrelson is a legitimate spokesman for the First Amendment? Had your crack research team done some real research, instead of using Google to find everything the Dalai Lama has said (or Richard Gere), they might have stumbled upon the concept that defining our happiness on sources, events and phenomenon outside of ourselves is surely a disappointing proposition. Come on, be honest about this. You have fame and wealth. If you suddenly lost that, would you still be happy? If you would be, then you have found the true happiness that can only be found within yourself. But if you would be terribly bummed if suddenly you lost all your television and publishing contracts, were foreclosed upon and couldn’t afford any longer the entertainment diversions you are currently accustomed to, then I would say you are suffering from the same delusion as a crack addict.

“People are always debating, is Buddhism a religion or a philosophy: it’s a religion. You’re a religion if you do something as weird as when the Buddhist monks scrutinize two-year-olds to find the reincarnation of the dude who just died, and then choose one of the toddlers as the sacred Lama: ‘His poop is royal!’ Sorry, but thinking you can look at a babbling, barely-housebroken, uneducated being and say, ‘That’s our leader’ doesn’t make you enlightened. It makes you a Sarah Palin supporter.”

All I can say is wow. Again, you are so focused on Tibetan Buddhism, and not just Tibetan Buddhism, but a very small sect within the larger sphere of Tibetan Buddhism. Yes, there are some kooky practices among the various sects of Buddhism. But that is not Buddhism. The Buddha never taught that there would be a re-incarnated leader of any particular sect. In fact, the Buddha never taught there was re-incarnation. He taught about re-birth. And this simple discrepancy again points to your sorely lacking research assistants that you must surely have, as big a television personality as you are.

Bill, I hope that you will do a bit more re-search about Buddhism before you make such ignorant comments in the future. You know, you just might find that the Buddha taught that ignorance is at the root of all our trouble. And someday, you might be facing some personal troubles. There’s that thing we Buddhists pay attention to called kamma. You should look into that. And not from a New York Times article either.

I thank Kyle at The Reformed Buddhist for the quotes. I visited Maher's blog and read the entire "piece." Also, credit must go to Rod at The Worst Horse for being among the first (if not the first) to address Maher's comments.

Oh you stupid monk

It must have really sucked for a monk during the Buddha’s time if you were a monk who didn’t get it. That is, a monk who misunderstood or misinterpreted the Buddha’s teaching. If you were such a monk, the Buddha apparently had little patience with you and you could expect a severe and public reprimand.

I ran across such a situation with the last sutta I read in the Majjhima Nikaya, the “Mahatanhasankhaya Sutta: The Greater Discourse on the Destruction of Craving.” In this sutta, we are presented with the poor misguided monk Sati, who, we are repeatedly told, is “the son of a fisherman.” Sati had the misfortune of concluding that consciousness is what is carried forward through the round of rebirths, and he reached this conclusion, says he, because that is what the Buddha taught. Whoa Nelly! That set the rest of the monks into such a commotion, they were acting like a bunch of flabbergasted queens who had just been informed that Madonna really hadn’t sung “Don’t Cry For Me Argentina,” that it was really a voice-over by Jewel.

“Friend Sati, is it true that such a pernicious view has arisen in you?” the monks ask, all aghast.

Of course, this gets brought to the Buddha’s attention, who takes no time in publicly humiliating poor Sati.

“Misguided man, to whom have you ever known me to teach the Dhamma in that way? Misguided man, have I not stated in many ways consciousness to be dependently arisen, since without a condition there is no origination of consciousness? But you, misguided man, have misrepresented us by your wrong grasp and injured yourself and stored up much demerit; for this will lead to your harm and suffering for a long time.”

Holy shit, it was as if the Buddha had just condemned Sati to a hell in the darkest and nastiest of gay S&M dungeons where leather-clad demons would stick long, hot needles through his tongue and his, er, well, you get the picture.

Poor Sati, he knew the shit that was in store for him: “When this was said, the bhikku Sati, son of a fisherman, sat silent, dismayed, with shoulders drooping and head down, glum, and without response.”

The Buddha then gives his instruction on dependent origination, about which there is an explanation at Ashin Sopāka’s blog. He also has a fabulous explanation of kamma and rebirth that you really should read: best explanation I’ve seen.

Public humiliation is a touchy item. Nobody likes public humiliation. It can lead to us making bad decisions later on. In the close-knit community of the Sangha, however, it’s part of the deal. Monks even have to publicly admit when they have a nocturnal transgression that was not entirely accidental, wink wink. But publicly reprimanding someone is a dicey prospect for most of us. The Buddha provided some pretty good guidelines on this under the realm of Right Speech. In particular, even if what you might speak is truth, if it leads to harm or no good for anyone, it’s better to not say anything at all.

The Buddha, however, never seemed to have been at a loss for words.

Tanhavagga: Craving

Ah, craving – the very heart of the Buddha’s teaching. That all of our dissatisfaction with life – all our unhappiness, disappointment, frustration, everything that is contained within the word dukkha – is largely the result of our craving. We get ideas in our heads that things have special intrinsic value and qualities that make them appealing and desirable and so we want them. And when we don’t get them, we feel sad.

It started when we were children because at that time we didn’t know any better. We didn’t know that a Sears bicycle functioned the same as a Schwinn; we just wanted the Schwinn because all the other kids did. Well, all the other kids that mattered. We wanted the latest game or toy, but a new game or toy always came along later that we had to have as well. And oh, we can only pick one?

“When a person lives heedlessly,
his craving grows like a creeping vine.
He runs now here
& now there,
as if looking for fruit:
a monkey in the forest.”

With the first verse the Tanhavagga makes use of the monkey mind metaphor to describe this craving of ours, because as we grew older and allegedly wiser, we dropped many of our childhood cravings. But did we drop craving altogether? Not likely; in my case I believe my cravings just became more sophisticated.

Am I supposed to not want anything? Have no desire at all? I don’t think that is what the Buddha was saying, particularly with reference to laypeople. We are social animals; we desire companionship and we have a desire to feel secure as well as useful to others. But craving, to me, is more than just mere desire.

Let’s examine sex for example. I like sex. Do you? I would like to have sex more often than I do, and I would guess most of you are of similar mind. But when does a desire for sex become a craving like what the Buddha described?

“Cleared of the underbrush
but obsessed with the forest,
set free from the forest,
right back to the forest he runs.
Come, see the person set free
who runs right back to the same old chains!”

I picked this verse because I believe it gets close to describing how a craving is different from a desire. In some ways, we are bordering on the concept of addiction. But addiction is one of those words that person can easily distance him or herself from. Craving is more subtle.

Let’s say you have a partner or spouse. And you see someone really hot. I mean, this person is so hot you can’t stop looking at them even though you know you ought to look away. The person walks away, but you’re still thinking about him or her. My god he was hot! Oh man, and did you see that ass?

When you see your partner or spouse, do you say, “Hey honey, I saw this really hot guy today with the most fantastic ass, it was like, man, I wanted to butter him up and have him for dinner!”

I know I wouldn’t, and I don’t think many of you would either. Because we know what the reaction would be. Saying something like that would create stress, it would cause harm. So we keep it to our self. It’s harmless, right?

But that was craving in action. And the Buddha in many places instructs us to learn how to recognize this craving immediately and put an end to it! We need to begin questioning ourselves, asking why am I thinking about this person? This only leads to harm. I need to re-focus my mind. And when do that, when we follow this guidance, the craving does dissipate.

Of course, now that I’m single, well, that’s a different line of thinking entirely!