How Sigala avoided a honey of a boo boo

Buddhism, in part, is about asking questions to determine how things really are. But to truly see the truth, you have to ask the right questions. And the question on my mind at the moment is whether Honey Boo Boo is foreshadowing the decline of civilization.

Homo say what? Honey Boo Boo?

A friend and former colleague examined this question in a recent column he wrote for The Morning Sun, a newspaper in Mount Pleasant, Mich., and one I worked for in the past. Please take the time to read it, as it is excellent. And don't feign ignorance with me; I know all you moes out there know about Honey Boo Boo, because she is exactly the archetype and stereotype of breeder culture that we love to throw so much shade over that it becomes a black hole. And I bet many of you watched this train wreck of humanity more than once.

Come to the light, children, there is still hope for you.

While I may sound a bit holier-than-though when I say this, it is true: I have not, nor will I, watch Honey Boo Boo. I did watch an online trailer for the show prior to its indecorous debut and that was enough. I wanted to cleanse my eyes with Comet after that. I saw enough, however, to know instantly that civilization was perched upon a perilous precipice, over which it could tumble into oblivion at any moment.

My friend clearly points out in his column that we, in a collective sense, have only ourselves to blame for this type of programming dreck. He writes:

"You can blame the network all you want, but the people who run the network have a very simple mission: Make money. They do that by reducing costs and maximizing viewers. Quality costs money and doesn’t bring the right number of viewers to make it the most profitable way to do business. So, we get Honey Boo Boo.”

And to add insult to injury, the folks in TV land have created elaborate methods to convince you that the programming available is, in fact, high quality backed by tons of creative minds. It's done through the annual awards show that lavishes praise on the most popular programs with idols of pseudo-excellence, which is why programs like "Glee" churn out episode after episode creating new nadirs for every conceivable sexual, racial, and ethnic stereotype out there and cleverly confuses you into thinking that it's really a ground-breaking and inclusive show portraying gays and others in a positive, albeit humorous, light.

It's all a diversion designed to lull you into a false sense of happiness so that you will more readily accept the commercial content that batters your psyche with often better production quality than the programs it sponsors. Its intent is to stupify you in a manner Bob Dylan eloquently described in his song, "It's Alright Ma (I'm Only Bleeding)".

Advertising signs they con

You into thinking you’re the one

That can do what’s never been done

That can win what’s never been won

Meantime life outside goes on

All around you

This is precisely why the Buddha advised a young fellow named Sigala to avoid theatrical shows.

o_O

Patience my pretties. I think that a reason why many practitioners do not read Dhamma is quite similar why other folk do not read the Bible or whatever holy book guides their religion, and this is the language in these texts is archaic and not easily understood. For that reason, it can be easily viewed as irrelevant to today's culture.

For example, in the Sigalovada Sutta, the Buddha includes "watching theatrical shows" as an item in a list of activities that lead to the loss of wealth. And then he enumerates the reasons why and how watching theatrical shows result in this:

"There are, young householder, these six evil consequences in frequenting theatrical shows. He is ever thinking:

(i) where is there dancing?

(ii) where is there singing?

(iii) where is there music?

(iv) where is there recitation?

(v) where is there playing with cymbals?

(vi) where is there pot-blowing?

Pot-blowing? What the hell is that? And what's wrong with singing and dancing?

This is what I'm talking about. People look at this and think that Buddhism has no relevance for them. The problem, however, is not that Buddhism lacks relevance; the problem is the question - we aren't asking the right questions.

No, there is nothing wrong with singing, or dancing, or even pot-blowing, provided we don't get too carried away. Remember that the Buddha described his path as the middle way. He tried the extremes and found them lacking. The path to spiritual bliss is neither followed by extreme pleasure or by extreme deprivation. And while we follow the way in the middle, we must be honest in evaluating our emotions.

Remember what the First Noble Truth is? For many people, life is more than just unsatisfactory, it can really suck, and too many of us queer folk know this all too well. But for most people life is how Henry David Thoreau described it when he said, “Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them.”

Believe it or not, shows like Honey Boo Boo are tapping into a collective sense of dismay and dissatisfaction that permeates our lives. It presents an opportunity, albeit a false one, for us to watch someone else's life self-destruct and gives us a sense that things can't be all that bad, "thank god I'm not in Honey Boo Boo's family!"

But like the theatrical shows the Buddha warned Sigala about, this is a distraction that keeps us in our self-dug hole of dissatisfaction. Shows like Honey Boo Boo aren't designed to uplift us, to inspire us; they're designed to keep us in a rut of meaningless existence, to set us up for the next string of commercials that will entice us to spend money on goods and services we don't need and which, if we took just a few seconds to think about it, we don't want.

There are a lot of unhappy people in the world. We can't help them all. But are you at least trying to help a few of them?

I know that I am not. And that needs to change.

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.

A Coyote Tale - The Wolf

As mentioned on the Facebook page for this blog, I am working on a post about karma and its relevance to being gay. A lot of stuff to read about that first, and life is filled with distractions. But another distraction of sorts that has been on everyone’s minds of late is the use of violence as a means to accomplish a goal, such as ridding the world of someone like Osama bin Laden.

It is ironic that I’ve been reading “Buddhist Warfare” at the time all this discussion arises, at the very time of bin Laden’s assassination, because regardless of your point of view on the matter, I think we must recognize that his death was via assassination. It was an extra-judicial killing, an act that we as Americans have loudly condemned when committed elsewhere in the world by other governmental regimes.

And in reading “Buddhist Warfare,” I get it that Buddhists have over hundreds of years found ways to justify violent acts through what I call suspect interpretations of the Dhamma. Even I, as pacifistic as I believe myself to be, am realizing that total resistance to violence is not always the right path to take.

Kyle, who writes The Reformed Buddhist, left a comment on the Facebook page for My Buddha is Pink that has been oft repeated by many, and that is if we act with true compassion, then a violent act may be committed because the act, in fact, was committed with Right Intention.

That idea just drives me freaking crazy. It bugs the hell out of me because on one level, I see the truth in that assertion; but it also freaks me out because such a statement can be so easily misunderstood and abused. We all suffer from greed, hatred and delusion, and of the three, delusion is the most difficult to deal with because how does a deluded mind understand that it is deluded?

This recalls for me a legend told by many Plains Indians among a canon that is known by American Indians as Coyote Tales. In this case, it is the story about The Wolf, which I shall present as follows.

Old Many Coyote was wandering about the plain when he saw The Wolf up ahead loping about the prairie. Knowing that The Wolf was a difficult character to deal with, Old Man Coyote turned and hastily retreated.

Old Man Coyote next encountered a rabbit. Feeling benevolent, Old Man Coyote warned the rabbit that he should take shelter and hide because The Wolf was near.

“I am not afraid,” replied the rabbit. “I will befriend The Wolf and he will let me be.”

“You are wrong,” said Old Man Coyote. “He is The Wolf, and he is what he is.”

Shortly after Old Man Coyote left the rabbit, The Wolf arrived and pounced upon the rabbit. As The Wolf was about to eat the rabbit, the rabbit began to plead for its life.

“Oh, Mr. Wolf, you are so strong and intelligent, please have mercy upon me and spare me my life,” said the rabbit. “Why eat me? I am such a small morsel. I have never done anything to harm you nor have I ever said anything bad about you.”

The Wolf paused and considered the rabbit’s words. He then replied, “It may be true that you have not said anything bad about me, but it is also true that you have never said anything good about me.”

Just before The Wolf swallowed the rabbit, the rabbit cried out, “Old Man Coyote was right! The Wolf can justify anything with his mind.”

What matters more?

I’ve been visiting Boston and on Monday, I was hanging out in a Starbuck’s on Central Square drinking coffee and reading “Buddhist Warfare,” about which I will soon be blogging. I found a spot by the window and settled in to read and jot down notes. A few seats over was a young woman reading the Bible and jotting down notes as well.

She eventually initiated a conversation with me, asking whether I was “studying” Buddhism. She was interested in Buddhism and wanted to know more. I said that I was studying the book I had because I needed to know what was in it so that I could be fair in criticizing it.

“But, yes I am Buddhist,” I told her.

She appeared somewhat surprised and asked me how long I had been Buddhist and when I answered, she then asked what had brought me to Buddhism.

“Pain,” I replied. “Seeking a way to end suffering.”

She nodded and said, “I see.” She agreed there was a great deal of suffering in the world. I realized my response came off as a bit vague and esoteric, so I went on to say that “suffering” in the Buddhist sense covered a lot of territory, and included things like when we’re happy, it doesn’t last, or that we try to avoid feeling unhappy, we try to avoid people we don’t want to be around, etc. That, in short, life was a ride of sorts filled with ups and downs and in general was unsatisfactory. “We desire things and even when we get them, we want more, we’re never satisfied.”

That seemed to make a bit more sense to her, and she answered with how her faith – she identified as being Seventh Day Adventist (I think I threw her off as well when I said that I knew what a Seventh Day Adventist was because I had dated a man in the past that was one) – helped bring her hope, that the Bible stories filled her with awe and wonder. That was her remedy, it seemed, for suffering. So I asked her, “What if you avoid doing things that cause suffering or pain in others? Would your own suffering be lessened?”

A puzzled expression immediately occupied her face. “I’m not sure what you mean by that?” Well, I guess I’m not as clever as the Buddha, I thought. So I explained that the Buddha taught that we create most of our own suffering through our actions, often by adding to someone else’s suffering. So if we avoid doing things that bring suffering or pain to others, would that not in turn reduce our own pain and suffering? “If I go outside and call someone and awful name, that person might hit me, right? There are consequences to our actions.”

“Oh yes, there are consequences,” she said. “In fact, sinning brings us death.”

I knew where she was going with this, so I played dumb. “How does sin cause death?

She started flipping through her Bible and I could see she was in Romans (do I dare tell her I think Paul was a misogynistic kook?). She asked if she could read something to me, but I said why does she need to do that? I was very familiar with the Bible, having read several versions, everything from the King James to the NIV. “I’ve also read the Book of Mormon. Although I’m impressed that you’ve read some of the Koran because I am very ignorant of Islam.”

I could tell she was disappointed that I didn’t want her to recite the Bible to me. I said that I knew the passage she was looking up, that it was about “the wages of sin is death.”

“But what if I said to you that birth is the cause of death?” Again, that puzzled look. “Surely you can agree if one is never born, they will not die. So being born causes death. After all, there are people who do not sin, and yet they still die.”

“Hmm, there are people who do not sin but still die,” she murmured. “That’s interesting. Can you name some?”

“Sure, how about Jesus? And what about Mary? They were without sin, weren’t they?”

I’m surprised she didn’t bring up the notion of Original Sin. Instead, she asked whether I believed that Jesus had really lived. Of course, I said, I believed that he lived and he was an important teacher. That, in fact, there are parallels in what Jesus taught to what the Buddha taught. But I also believed that much of what Jesus said was manipulated by others for political reasons. “They needed someone like him, because they wanted to get the Romans out of Palestine.”

I also told her I had a great deal of respect for the Gospels, although the rest of the Bible I considered fantasy. Oh, but the Old Testament was filled with examples of prophesies coming true, she said. An old trick, I replied. Anyone can write a history hundreds of years after an event and make up connections and quotes to show that someone “saw it coming.”

I thought she would counter me with the belief that the Bible was written by God and therefore could not contain factual errors. Instead, that frown of confusion returned. She did in a round-about way ask whether I believed in God.

“It’s not important,” I said. “If I live a moral life and behave well toward others, I will ease my own suffering and the suffering of others, I will increase my happiness right now. And when I am about to die, I won’t fear death over things I might have done in the past, so my dying will be with ease. And if there is an afterlife, I can be assured of a pleasant afterlife because I behaved correctly right now. But believing in the afterlife won’t make it happen on its own. What matters is how I act right now, because that sets up what will happen to me next. So if there is an afterlife, I’m OK. And if there isn’t one, I’m still OK. I don’t need to believe in a heaven. I don’t need to believe in a God. What matters is what I do right now.”

Again, that pondering frown. I was prepared for a reply about facing the wrath of God if I was wrong about whether there was a god. Surely, I would say, her god was a bit more emotionally stable than a spoiled 4-year-old. Instead, she returned her focus to her mini laptop to look something up. The conversation was over. Just like that.

Later I began to wonder why she closed up. Had I created doubt within her about her own beliefs? No, I don’t think that was the case. My conclusion is more cynical. I believe she viewed me as a waste of time. Her interest from the start was more likely to evangelize, to convert me to her way of thinking. When she saw she would fail, she merely stopped engaging me. There was a time when she asked me what type of Buddhism did I follow; I told her the Thai Forest Tradition, or Theravada. She asked me to spell that and she did a Google search. Lord knows whatever she might find in her search results, but at least I can count on the Access To Insight website showing up in the top.

When I left Starbuck’s, I told her that I enjoyed our discussion and hoped the rest of her day went well. Our discussion was pleasant; whether I was skillful I’m not certain. But I always think that it’s a good thing when I don’t piss someone off and they don’t piss me off.

Listening without ego

I have a couple blog posts in the works, but the topics are tricky and what I wish to say about them is elusive. So I thought I would turn to something more direct, such as responding to one of the topic suggestions I received via comment in this earlier post. And the question/suggestion is one posed by Ricercar who asked: “Why are some people so sensitive to feedback (good or bad), almost to the point of being dysfunctional?”

At the heart of this question is a desire to understand others. What remains hidden within this desire, however, is the motivation for wanting to gain this understanding. In other words, why do we need to understand others? And often the actual reason we have for understanding another person’s behavior is the wrong reason; if we’re honest, most of the time the reason is selfish – we think we ought to know despite the fact there is no good reason for us needing to know.

This brings to mind an experience I went through many years ago while I was working at a residential treatment facility for children diagnosed with emotional and behavioral disorders. The boys in the unit where I worked were there for a variety of reasons, but most had been abused.

Right there, all of you reading this have brought forward in your mind a concept of what that means – being abused. Maybe It’s a general understanding, or perhaps it’s a personal understanding either because you are a victim of abuse or you know someone personally who experienced abuse. And based on these different levels of “understanding,” it is very likely that you also have a continuum within your mind regarding the validity of each level of understanding. In other words, if you’ve personally experienced abuse, you will likely consider your understanding of what “abuse” means to be superior to someone whose understanding of abuse is based solely on reading the book, “Sybil.”

This is a bit of a digression, but nonetheless worth bearing in mind. Because if you’re a victim of abuse, your understanding of this violence is not superior to someone who has not been abused – it’s just different. But back to my story.

There was a boy in the unit who was very neurotic. He handled praise very poorly. He would lap up the praise, but afterward frequently do something negative that would result in some form of restriction. It was almost like he didn’t believe he was worthy of any praise and to prove that, he would intentionally do something negative.

Following a therapy session, this boy returned to the unit and went to his room; nothing odd there because it was quiet time and all the boys in the unit were in their rooms. But this boy had a plan. My co-worker on the shift, a woman, was conducting the room checks when she found the boy had attempted to hang himself with his belt. There was no physical injury, no need to rush him to a doctor. My co-worker tried to find out what prompted this, but the boy wouldn’t talk. In this line of work, we often did a lot of tag-teaming; if one staff member was unsuccessful dealing with a kid, we let someone else try.

It was the most surreal conversation I’ve had with someone. The boy did open up to me, but he would only talk to me from beneath his bed. Turned out that during his therapy session, he learned that his mother was coming later in the week to visit him. No wonder he wouldn’t talk to my co-worker, a woman. The boy didn’t want to see his mother – he hated her – but believed he wasn’t being given a choice. So rather than meet his mother, he’d rather die.

Why would you rather die than see her? I asked. Asking a question that begins with “why” is a dangerous one because more often than not, such a question is an invitation to receive a shrug of the shoulders as the response. Any parent can tell you that when a child is caught misbehaving and the child is asked why he or she did the deed, the most common response is “I don’t know.” But this boy told me why.

He hated his mother, a mean-spirited alcoholic bitch of a woman who whored herself during repeated excursions. During these periods of drunken promiscuity, particularly when he was very young, she would lock him up in his room for days without access to food or a bathroom. She would leave newspaper on the floor as if he were a puppy that hadn’t been housebroken. And when she would return to find the mess in his room, she would fly into a rage and shove his face into the excrement.

Listening to this, many of the maladaptive behaviors this boy engaged in, particularly his intentional sabotage of any praiseworthy actions, made sense: I understood the why. But I couldn’t lose sight of the fact that his maladaptive behaviors remained maladaptive, his anti-social behavior was still anti-social; no matter how horrible his mother had been, it didn’t excuse him. It did, however, allow me to be compassionate and empathetic.

Thich Nhat Hanh often speaks of being able to listen deeply and use loving speech. When we speak with someone, especially if it is someone we care about, and the other person is aloof or sharp with us, or even seems to be unable to accept what we are saying, our initial response can be one of confusion, even of feeling hurt. But if we can stop this selfish thinking and bring to mind the thought, “this person is suffering,” rather than dwelling on “this person is a prick,” we are opening up an opportunity for us to be compassionate and beneficial. When we are in that frame of mind, we can listen deeply and with loving kindness.

My recollection of the boy who didn’t want to see his mother is an extreme example. I’m not trying to say that all people who can’t handle praise are victims of abuse. What I am saying is that suffering is at the heart of any maladaptive or antisocial behavior we encounter. We don’t need to know why someone is unable to handle praise or criticism; we just need to open our ears and eyes and avoid viewing this behavior as a personal affront. In fact, directly questioning someone about their puzzling response only draws increased attention to it, likely leading to increased anxiety and more inappropriate behavior.

By practicing the Four Brahmaviharas – loving kindness, compassion, sympathetic joy and equanimity – we become less obsessed with our egos and simultaneously become more beneficial to others. This is not an easy practice, but it is a critical one.

In the Aggi-Vacchagotta Sutta (MN 72), the Buddha tells the wandering ascetic Vacchagotta that the Dhamma is deep and very difficult to understand – that it cannot be understood through reasoning alone. I could have read about that boy’s background in his clinical file; everything he told me was in it. But listening to him tell me all this, his voice coming from beneath his bed (it was like he was returning to the darkness of the womb), I was able to experience this information in a way that no reading of a clinical file could reproduce.

All I had to do was be there.

A Queer Eightfold Path-Right Intention

A woman with Right View knows that when invited to a wedding – regardless of whether she knows the bride – she will not wear an extravagant and glamorous dress that would distract everyone from the bride. Therefore, she dresses smartly, but simply. She has Right Intention; to demure in the presence of the star of the day so that all eyes are on the bride rather than her.

However, if our lady example was a self-centered, publicity whore of a bitch – someone with Wrong View – her intentions would likely be very different. Rather than choosing to dress smartly, she dresses lavishly, becoming a distraction during the ceremony. Instead of wearing Liz Claiborne, she dons a gown by Adrian. Instead of dressing like Miss Gooch, she dresses like Lady Gaga. She has Wrong Intention.

Intention is the forerunner of all action; everything we say or do begins with a thought that arises from an intention. As the Dhammapada verse I have permanently posted on this blog so eloquently states, all phenomenon come from the heart, and it is in our hearts that our intentions are formed.

Bhikkhu Bodhi states in “The Noble Eightfold Path: The Way to End Suffering,” that should we allow Wrong View to prevail, the result is our actions are motivated by Wrong Intention, and that brings suffering.

“When wrong views prevail, the outcome is wrong intention giving rise to unwholesome actions. Thus one who denies the moral efficacy of action and measures achievement in terms of gain and status will aspire to nothing but gain and status, using whatever means he can to acquire them. When such pursuits become widespread, the result is suffering, the tremendous suffering of individuals, social groups, and nations out to gain wealth, position, and power without regard for consequences. The cause for the endless competition, conflict, injustice, and oppression does not lie outside the mind. These are all just manifestations of intentions, outcroppings of thoughts driven by greed, by hatred, by delusion.”

Hmm, sounds a lot like the current state of affairs in the world. But I digress.

It all sounds simple enough: keep good intentions in mind and my actions will be skillful and yield good results, right? So why is there the well-known saying from popular lore that the road to hell is paved with good intentions? Shouldn’t our good intentions be leading us along a path to heaven rather than hell?

Thanissaro Bhikkhu addresses this dilemma in the essay, “The Road to Nirvana is Paved With Skillful Intentions.” He identifies three reasons why good intentions occasionally appear to produce unsatisfactory results.

“One is that not all good intentions are especially skillful. Even though they mean well, they can be misguided and inappropriate for the occasion, thus resulting in pain and regret. A second reason is that we often misunderstand the quality of our own intentions. We may mistake a mixed intention for a good one, for instance, and thus get disappointed when it gives mixed results. A third reason is that we easily misread the way intentions yield their results — as when the painful results of a bad intention in the past obscure the results of a good intention in the present, and yet we blame our present intention for the pain.”

Both Bhikkhu Bodhi and Thanissaro Bhikkhu emphasize the importance of having Right View as one’s base, because as long as we’re developing the right view of things, we’ll be able to become more skillful with our intentions. That skillfulness is developed through the recognition that our intentions can be classified into three general categories: those arising from greed, those arising from harboring ill will, and those leading to harming others. The Buddha recognized there were three ways to counter each of these unskillful intentions, and that is through renunciation, good will, and harmlessness.

My greedy desire for sex could lead me to venture into a bathhouse for an evening of carnal fun, but because I am developing the right view of things, I am aware of the consequences of such diversion, an awareness that comes through a deep understanding of the Four Noble Truths. So I renounce the activity of going to a bathhouse, which counteracts the unskillful desire. Note that I am not renouncing sex; rather, I am renouncing the greedy desire to engage in, um, well, you get the picture.

Because I am developing Right View, I understand that harboring a desire for Fred Phelps to spontaneously burst into flame is not what would be called a very skillful intention. As much as I might enjoy such an event, harboring ill will distracts my mind and will lead to other unskillful actions that will yield bad results. Instead, I work at developing good will toward the Rev. Phelps, desiring that he will one day see the truth of his anger and delusion and find peace and equanimity. Sometimes reacting with a quip made famous by Pee Wee Herman is a good enough start.

And when the desire to retaliate against someone for some perceived harm he or she has done to me, I seek to have the self-awareness to stop myself and develop the presence of mind to not harm another person or creature because I feel that I’ve been wronged or harmed in some way. After all, I must be aware that sometimes shit that happens to me is a consequence not of my present actions, but a result of some shit that I did long ago. None of us can escape kamma.

As Thanissaro Bhikkhu says: “We start learning denial at an early age — ‘It wasn't my fault,’ … — and then internalize the process, as a way of preserving our self-image, to the point where it becomes our second nature to turn a blind eye to the impact of our mistakes.”

This is easily overcome with the awareness that you can’t think two opposing thoughts at the same time. And because intention arises from thought first before being turned into action, unwholesome thoughts can be easily eradicated by recognizing them for what they are and thinking the opposite: No, I will not lust after this; no, I will not desire harm to befall this person; no, I will not retaliate against this person. From there we can cultivate the next level of Right Intention by directing our thoughts to positive directions of what we will do rather than what we will not do: Yes, I will renounce this action or belief; yes, I will seek to have good will toward others and engage in activity that nurtures good will; yes, I will be harmless and encourage others to be harmless, and engage in activity that will benefit others.

I strongly recommend you read Bhikkhu Bodhi’s section on Right Intention and how to develop the skills of renunciation, good will, and harmlessness.

Coming up later, the factors contributing to sila, or virtue, found in Right Speech, Right Action, and Right Livelihood.

When compassion toward others is empty

I recently weighed in on a post at Nathan’s blog Dangerous Harvests that highlighted a group that periodically releases confined animals into “the wild.” Such activity is often portrayed as a compassionate act in which the “confined” animal is set free, a bodhisattva act on the path of liberating all creatures from suffering.

The bodhisattva path is certainly a laudable goal, but I tend to view these acts of animal liberation as anything but laudable. Unskillful is how I view most of these and similar activities, because more often than not, the intent of relieving the targeted animal’s suffering is wildly missed, and sometimes, the suffering of other animals is exacerbated.

Let me first describe the activity that prompts this. And let me express this caveat as well: While this particular activity described at Tsem Tulku Rinpoche’s blog is what I am using as a catalyst to express my concerns, I must admit that the activity’s description on the blog does not provide enough information for me to know whether my criticisms are valid. I admit that I am presuming some conditions, a dangerous thing to do and something that could ultimately portray me as a fool. Having said that, these types of animal liberation activities are not uncommon in Asia, so the questions I raise can be applied in any of these instances. Also, I left a comment at Rinpoche’s blog expressing my skepticism about the activity. So I’m not making this criticism behind someone’s back, so to speak.

The gist of the situation is live fish are kept at a market to be sold as food. A group purchases the fish, then takes the fish to a freshwater lake (the fish are freshwater fish) where the fish are released into that lake. The group’s presumption is that it has liberated the fish, alleviating suffering for those fish, and that the fish appreciate this action. Everyone feels good, take pictures, then goes home.

In his lesson to Rahula at Mango Stone, the Buddha told his son that a skillful person is fully aware of the potential consequences of his or her actions. This awareness is achieved through constant reflection on one’s actions prior to their commission, during their commission, and after they have been committed. The Buddha instructs that, while it may appear that an intended act is skillful prior to its occurrence, circumstances may arise during that action in which it becomes clear that the act is in reality unskillful, that it brings harm to self, to others, or to both self and others. Nonetheless, while completing the act, red flags may not be observed, and the act continues to appear skillful. But we must not stop there, as the Buddha guides us to evaluate our actions post commission and observe the consequences. Because it may be later revealed that there were unforeseen harmful consequences and what was initially believed to be skillful action was, in fact, unskillful and should not be committed again.

In the relevant situation, freshwater fish are being released into a freshwater lake. However, the presumption that this is suitable is a huge leap of logic that may ultimately be found to be incorrect. Does the lake have a suitable food source for the fish? Does the lake already play home to the same species of fish? Can the lake’s ecosystem sustain the sudden introduction of more individuals into that environment? Because the lake has a limited food supply, and yet a greater number of individuals dependent on that food supply are suddenly introduced into that environment, what’s the impact? And are their other species in that lake that prior to this release activity had no predator to worry about? Is the new fish introduced into the lake a predator the other life form previously did not need to worry about? Maybe the fish that were released are “happy” and liberated, but what about the other life forms in that lake? Has this action created suffering that previously did not exist?

Another similar and common activity I have read about involves groups that go to pet stores to purchase birds. They take the birds and release them, believing again that they are liberating the animal and bringing it happiness while relieving the perceived suffering it experienced because it lived in a cage. No thought is given that these “liberated” birds, which previously had their food source taken care of for them and were protected from predators and parasites, suddenly find themselves having to fend for themselves lacking the skills necessary to survive. Has their suffering really been alleviated? Is that what a true bodhisattva would do?

As Thanissaro Bhikkhu writes in the essay “The Road to Nirvana is Paved With Skillful Intentions,” merely believing that our intentions are good will not make them skillful. He cites three primary reasons for why we are at times disappointed with our outcomes despite having “good intentions.”

“One is that not all good intentions are especially skillful. Even though they mean well, they can be misguided and inappropriate for the occasion, thus resulting in pain and regret. A second reason is that we often misunderstand the quality of our own intentions. We may mistake a mixed intention for a good one, for instance, and thus get disappointed when it gives mixed results. A third reason is that we easily misread the way intentions yield their results — as when the painful results of a bad intention in the past obscure the results of a good intention in the present, and yet we blame our present intention for the pain. All these reasons, acting together, lead us to become disillusioned with the potential of good intentions. As a result, we either grow cynical about them or else simply abandon the care and patience needed to perfect them.”

This is one of the reasons why I frequently cite the Rahula Sutta, because it offers very clear guidance on how we can perfect our intentions as well as our actions. But so much of what we do is accomplished without serious consideration of the real consequences of our actions. We frequently presume that because our intention is well-meant, the outcome of our action will be beneficial.

There is another consideration to make when thinking about these “liberation” activities. Where is the example within the canon that guides us that this is what the Buddha wanted us to do? I am unaware of any sutta in the Pali canon that describes the Buddha or the Sangha releasing animals into the wild as a routine affair. And in the Mahayana texts, I have also found no example so far that clarifies the bodhisattva vow as involving this type of activity. Admittedly, there may be one; I’m simply unaware of it. If there is, please guide me to it, as I would like to read it.

The image with this post is courtesy of my friend, Jimmy Huang.

Is this racism?

I believe that one of the central teachings in Buddhism is that we can learn how to see things as they really are. Many of us think we already see the world as is, but by practicing what the Buddha teaches, it soon becomes clear just how deluded we can be about people, places and things.

So I ask the question, is it racism being depicted in the clip below from a film titled “Windowbreaker?”

Let’s examine the basic elements of what we just viewed. It opens with two, small Asian children setting up a booby trap with marbles that is intended to act as an alarm should someone attempt to break-in their home. A Vietnamese woman is feeling fearful and vulnerable because of recent break-ins in here neighborhood. She is treated condescendingly by a white shop owner. A group of Asian youths is playing basketball on the street. We learn the hoop belongs to the white shopkeeper’s white assistant. Among the teens is an angry Asian youth. He is initially presented as being a real asshole. But we don’t know why he is an asshole. We just know that he is an asshole.

The children are left alone at night because mother has something she must do. The marble booby trap works; someone attempts to break in and wakens the children. The small boy goes to investigate, discovers the intruder, who is injured because he slips on the marbles and cuts his arm on the broken glass.

Next day, the white shopkeeper arrives at the woman’s house to install an alarm system. Outside, police are questioning all the Asian youth in the neighborhood. The officer hones in on the angry Asian youth.

The shopkeeper’s white assistant shows up at the house, his arm in a sling, to help install the alarm. He pauses when he sees the broken glass door. He turns to see the small boy. They recognize each other. At the end of the clip, we learn that the white shopkeeper has been paying his assistant to break into homes that people will become frightened enough to buy alarm systems from him.

Although this is just an 11-minute clip of a feature film, I think we can safely presume that the filmmaker’s intent with the clip is to give us a glimpse as to the nature of his film. And what I see being depicted is a white society operating under a presumption that the recent immigration of Vietnamese to the neighborhood is almost like an invasion. The Asian youths that play basketball are not using their own hoop; they come from somewhere else. The shopkeeper’s assistant is allowing them to play because he knows how they will be perceived. And it works. When another break-in is reported, who do the police question?

What we don’t know yet from this clip is why the angry Asian youth is so angry. My guess is that the film will eventually lead to two conflicts: one involving the young boy and the shopkeeper’s assistant, the other between the angry Asian youth and the shopkeeper’s assistant.

If we view things as they really are, it means that sometimes we – people who probably don’t think of ourselves as being racist, who would take extreme offense at the notion that we harbor racist feelings – must recognize that our actions are not well-thought out, that they are often automatic and proceed from a perspective that we perceive is normal, but which is perceived by others as oppressive and even racist.

This is a very difficult conversation for even the most “enlightened” among us to have.

What’s your reaction to the film clip?

Can we ever fully understand war?

I just finished watching an extraordinary movie. I bought a copy of Tae Guk Gi (The Brotherhood of War) probably two months ago at Reckless Records in Chicago, but I never felt ready to watch it. But tonight I said, what the hell, let’s take a look.

I am exhausted.

A Korean movie set during the Korean conflict, it has perhaps even more gut-wrenching intensity than Saving Private Ryan. Really, this movie took everything I had emotionally, and then wanted more. Now that I’ve had a moment to reflect on the film, some Buddhist concepts come to mind.

The story line is of two brothers: one who is bright (Jin-seok), and one who is not so bright but who is the anchor of the family (Jin-tae). They are both swept up into the Korean War, ripped away from their widowed mother and the woman Jin-tae wants to marry. Jin-tae vows to do whatever he can to send his younger brother home because he is the hope for the family; Jin-seok has a chance to go to college. But along the way, everything goes wrong. Jin-seok comes to resent what his brother is doing, and Jin-tae gets caught up in the delusion of nationalism and war.

Jin-seok, however, is not immune from change. There is a scene when the South Koreans are in bitter hand-to-hand combat with North Koreans. Jin-seok has a soldier beneath his bayonet and is about to kill him, but the North Korean pleads for his life, saying he is just 15 years old and was forced to join the army. Doubt rises in Jin-seok's mind and he relents, letting the boy live. But the North Korean lad immediately takes up the rifle with the bayonet and attacks Jin-seok, ready to kill him. Jin-seok struggles to grab a nearby knife and succeeds; he takes the blade and will kill the teen, but another soldier comes by and kills the boy first.

The First Precept tells us to not kill. It instructs us to respect all life and living sentient beings. But the Buddha also acknowledged that countries and kings have armies and they are wont to wage war. And that sweeps up common people into these schemes. Jin-seok recognized that he needn’t kill just because it was war. But when the ungrateful teen turned on him and was about to kill him, Jin-seok did what any of us would have done: defend his own life to the point of taking another’s.

Jin-tae becomes overwhelmed by the war. He begins with a good intention – he wants to do something to win a medal so Jin-seok can be sent home – but the war changes him. He no longer sees humans, no longer sees people; instead he sees symbols. When their platoon captures some communists, among them is a friend of theirs from back home. Jin-tae is ready to kill him because, as he says, all he sees are commies. Even with a good intention at the start, Jin-tae is easily corrupted by the violence and chaos of war. He initially believes the promises made to him, but eventually realizes that there are no promises, there are no guarantees. And so he sinks into chaos as he sees everything that is dear to him taken away.

God, this movie drained me of everything I had. I am an easy weeper, I will cry at just about anything; but this movie had me sobbing like no other. There were times during the movie I was beginning to wonder, “How much more can I take?” It’s still making me weep to think about it.

But one thing I certainly take from this movie: It’s not enough to have a good intention. In fact, sometimes a good intention is utterly meaningless. What matters is skillful action.