The fine line between nothing matters and everything matters

An acquaintance of mine and I used to often chant, "It just doesn't matter." We would look at the ways of the world and think to ourselves, "Seriously?"

Because in the larger scheme of things, nothing really mattered. We were all going to die some day. Whatever wealth (or debt), reputation, knowledge, even friendships that we gathered along the way during this journey of life, the bottom line was we will die and all that will be lost. Food for worms we would become.

It is a beguiling notion and, unsurprisingly, many Buddhists succumb to the siren's call of nihilism. In fact, in my "Buddhism" list on Twitter, I saw this Tweet:

"The problem with dinner banter is most people don't want to hear your views on how nothing matters."

It's difficult not to believe at times that the point of living is dying, or as Jake Shears of Scissor Sister so eloquently sings: "Happy yesterday to all, we were born to die."

Is that really all there is to it? Because if it is, then I don't give a shit about the debts I run up, let the poor suckers I leave behind deal with that. If the banks want to extend me that credit, then fine, I will use it to the max and not give a shit because in the end, when I'm dead, they ain't getting nothing.

Or is that all there is? Perhaps we are all born to die, but is that it?

Ah, nihilism, come here my pretty.

Buddhism is filled with practices and concepts that are frequently co-opted by the opportunistic and simplified to such an extreme that one's delusions become strengthened rather than eradicated. The concept of "mindfulness" is one in particular, as exemplified here (please be aware that I cite Justin's post not because I have any "skin in the game" regarding the Google busses, etc., but because it's an excellent example of how mindfulness gets dumbed-down into an elite practice of showy privilege).

Perhaps the most misinterpreted teaching of the Buddha's is that to the Kalamas, which is often distorted into a justification for doing whatever you can rationalize as being OK. As the venerable Bhikkhu Bodhi wrote:

"On the basis of a single passage, quoted out of context, the Buddha has been made out to be a pragmatic empiricist who dismisses all doctrine and faith, and whose Dhamma is simply a freethinker's kit to truth which invites each one to accept and reject whatever he likes."

This is nothing new. During the Buddha's lifetime there were others who confused the Dhamma for a doctrine of nihilism. In the Vajjiya Sutta, a group of wandering mendicants make such an assertion:

"Now wait a minute, householder. This contemplative Gotama whom you praise is a nihilist, one who doesn't declare anything."

Interestingly, it's the lay follower Vajjiya Mahita who corrects these wandering mystics:

"I tell you, venerable sirs, that the Blessed One righteously declares that 'This is skillful.' He declares that 'This is unskillful.' Declaring that 'This is skillful' and 'This is unskillful,' he is one who has declared [a teaching]. He is not a nihilist, one who doesn't declare anything."

By declaring there are skillful ways to do things and unskillful ways to do things, the Buddha is quite clearly stating that yes, things do matter. Our actions matter. They matter because the intentions we form prior to our actions matter. The Noble Eightfold Path is all about the right ways to do things, presented with the understanding that there are wrong ways to do things. Or, the better way to explain it, there are skillful means and unskillful means. There are desired outcomes and outcomes to be avoided. The more we choose skillful actions, the more we experience desirable outcomes.

And none of this requires a belief in an afterlife. Being aware of that, the Buddha skillfully taught how we can "hedge our bets." By acting in accordance with the Dhamma, we're covered whether there is or is not an afterlife, whether there is rebirth or no rebirth. And clearly, we can experience the fruits of skillful living during our life now, as revealed in the opening verses of the Dhammapada.

The nihilist can speak with such aplomb about the fact that we all die and there's nothing that comes next. Yet, we do everything we can to extend whatever time we do have, to extend every moment of happiness we experience, and to avoid every unpleasant situation. This all becomes less frenetic once we become aware of the fact that we are where we are because of what we did in the past, and if we want to enjoy a happy future, then we need to pay attention to what we are doing right now in this moment.

Because it matters.

Don't get lost in the details

For 2 years in a row, the date March 9 has brought me face-to-face with the frailty of the human body.

This normally inconspicuous date has also held for me interesting coincidences.

On March 9, 2012, I awoke shortly after midnight with a splitting headache. It was the worst headache I ever had in my life. It was as though a large Bowie knife had been shoved through my skull. My vision was distorted by shimmering lights, like an aura. Because I had lived with migraines most of my life, I deduced it was just an exceptionally bad migraine. I took some Excedrin and went back to sleep.

Later that morning the headache persisted. I stayed at home and worked, but the throbbing pain in my skull was getting to me. I took a handful of aspirin later in the afternoon. The pain diminished slightly. I was beginning to notice that I had lost vision in my left peripheral field. It was the normal blind spot I get when having a migraine, so I thought.

The next day, the headache and the blind spot were still there. Perhaps this was not a migraine. I called one of those "phone a nurse" lines and described my symptoms. It was suggested that I get to an emergency room. I drove myself there. They did a CT scan. They told me I had a stroke.

On March 9, 2013, I woke up feeling fine. I went to make the coffee. I returned to my room and started my laptop, started to look through my email. When I heard the coffee had stopped brewing, I went and got a cup. I poured the soy creamer into the mug and then added the coffee like I always do every morning. I took the mug of coffee back to my room, took a sip, set the mug on the side table, then sat in the chair to resume web surfing.

Suddenly there was an intense pain in my chest. It was as if a giant hand wearing one of those metal medieval jousting gloves had gripped my chest all about the left breast and was squeezing with the pressure of an hydraulic vice. The pain radiated to my left arm, went under through the arm pit, then down my arm to my fingers. This intense pain went up the left side of my neck as well to my jaw. My breathing became shallow, I felt clammy.

I knew what was happening. I stood up, went to my medicine cabinet, grabbed an adult aspirin and chewed it. I returned to my chair and focused my mind on the pain, on my heart, on the blood vessel that was shutting down. I waited a few moments, but the pain was not subsiding. It was steady; a black knight had me in his grip and he was not letting go. Mara be damned. I was going to have to go to the emergency room. Again.

I told my roommate what I thought was happening and he and his boyfriend drove me to the emergency room. I never felt like I was going to die. But I was thinking about the irony.

Two hugely significant medical emergencies in my life, both occurring on March 9. In both incidents, I had Phô for dinner the night before. In both situations I had recently picked up my friend Curt at the airport upon his return from Malaysia where he had spent three months. And on both occasions, Curt returned from Malaysia with some type of lung infection.

Coincidences. Silly facts to mess with your mind.

At the emergency room, it had been at least an hour since the symptoms first showed and my chest was still gripped with pain. This is not a hackneyed metaphor. It literally felt as though my chest was caught in some giant vice. My blood pressure upon arrival was 188/107. They gave me a nitro. A swelling headache developed, but the chest pain had only slightly subsided. Morphine was next. At last, the pain was receding.

They drew blood to see if the tell-tale enzymes would show up indicating a heart attack. It could be severe angina or some other less serious event. These enzymes show up when there is heart tissue damage, and the only thing that causes that type of damage is a heart attack. The first draw was necessarily zero, but it would be the second draw that would reveal all.

Nammo tassa bhagavato arahato samma sambuddhasa. Say it three times. Say it six times. Say it a hundred times. I wasn't afraid. I knew I wasn't going to die. But I was embarrassed. And I was confused. I don't follow the best diet, but I eat reasonably well and I exercise a lot. My cholesterol numbers are fabulous. My EKGs have been normal. I have never felt chest pain while exercising or exerting myself. All I did was sit down after getting my coffee. Now I was annoyed. They told me I would be spending the night for observation in a regular room. Dennis and Stephen went home to get me some things.

Then the first enzyme test came back. They were canceling my room. They were sending me to ICU. The enzymes were there. I was 54 years old and I had a heart attack. My father was 58 when he had his first one. My brother was 62 I think when he had his, one that required a quad-bypass. But this couldn't be. I knew I didn't have blocked arteries. I just knew it! But what was happening?

An angiogram done two days later confirmed my belief; there was no arterial blockage. They started talking about a spasm, like a cramp in the artery that caused it to pinch shut, blocking the blood flow just as effectively if it had been blocked with plaque. But there was a problem with this diagnosis. Had it been plaque in the artery, they would cite a source, whether it was my diet or something else leading to the plaque buildup. There were procedures for this, whether surgery or angioplasty, doesn't matter - there was a protocol with that scenario.

Without the plaque, well now, they couldn't tell me what caused the spasm. And without knowing what caused the spasm, they couldn't very well tell me what to do or not do to prevent it from happening again.

It was like the stroke all over again. The stroke was caused by a blood clot - at least that's what they tell me - but they could never identify the source of the clot.

My roommate Stephen said it best: "You are a medical mystery."

Fuck that.

But now, when I chant the Five Remembrances, the significance is hard to ignore. I got things to do. And not silly things. Now the Bhaddekaratta Sutta has meaning unlike anything its held before. And yet I am still the same person. I'm not quite acting differently, not yet. But I am looking at others much differently. And I'm looking for opportunities. Opportunities to help. Opportunities to be kind. Opportunities to smile. And most important of all, opportunities to be present.

Expect some more of the same, but a little bit different.

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.

Observing the past, then walking away

Saturday I returned from a week in Arizona where I visited places I hadn’t seen in 30 years. Yes, things change, but how things change can be interesting. While the Bhaddekarrata suttas (MN 131, 132, 133, 134) wisely instruct us to avoid living in the past, such guidance does not equate to ignoring the past nor refusing to peruse it to discern any secrets it might reveal.

For example, one of the places I visited was Red Rock Crossing near Sedona, Arizona. I like to call Sedona the chic epicenter of new-age ethnocentrism and self-inflated egos, the home of the harmonic distortion, er, convergence. Seriously, Sedona is a beautiful place, but not my favorite spot in Arizona. It is where mysticism dies to become commercialized.

Red Rock Crossing is to the south and east of Sedona and is home to one of the most photographed views around, Cathedral Rock at Red Rock Crossing. Thirty years ago my journey to Red Rock Crossing took me along a lonely gravel road to a small park where folks brought their kids and picnics. The crossing had a gorgeous view of Cathedral Rock and was a hugely popular swimming hole. The red sandstone making the creek bottom was covered with a slick moss, which made the rock excellent for sliding along, letting the current push you through small chutes and into deep pools.

Today, the location is a state park surrounded by multi-million dollar homes all huddled together to get that “view.” Instead of a gravel road, it’s paved. The place had changed so much it was difficult for me to find the spot where we used to swim. The water wasn’t clear any more, but ruddy, the current carrying various flotsam and jetsam discarded by an egotistical society that believes that views can be owned. Joni Mitchell’s “Big Yellow Taxi” came to mind. I managed to finally reach the spot, but it wasn’t the same; the creek was lower, likely because of all those seven-figure homes with wells that were sucking the water out of the underground stream. The final insult was the new age “sorceress” there smudging a man by the waterside, undoubtedly for a hefty fee. The tone of her Tibetan chiming bowl was divine.

Other places I visited were still great. I love the atmosphere of Jerome, Arizona, and the mystical aura of the various Sinagua ruins in the national monuments that can be found in the vicinity. One spot in particular was important to me, Walnut Canyon National Monument east of Flagstaff. Here is a photo I took of my parents (both now dead) circa 1980 as they rested along the Island Trail in the park.

And here is a photo of me sitting in what I believe to be the same spot roughly 30 years later.

The former photo was taken with a Konica TC Autoreflex (which I still have) using a 50mm lens. The later was taken with a Nikon D70 with a wide-angle lens, hence the different perspective.

My homage to the past is merely that, a nod of respect toward what has happened. It is not a longing for the past, for as the Buddha taught us, the past is gone. To say that I feel nothing in terms of the past would be a lie for certain. But I don’t need to cling to it and any desire to do so is gone. Each day I capture a drop of water, and each time I give it back to the sea.

Whittling away at anger

Recently while on my commute to work, a taxi driver in the lane to the right of me decided he wanted to make a left turn at the intersection I was about to proceed through. He waved at me for letting him go through while I cursed loudly at him. I had no choice but let him through as he cut me off.

Immediately I chastised myself for losing my temper like that. I practice what the Buddha taught his son Rahula, and that was to immediately cultivate a sense of shame at my own behavior.

Alas, I do that often, because anger remains a major issue for me. And as evidenced by some recent bloggers, it is an issue for others as well.

I am ashamed to admit that words like “moron!” and the f-bomb frequently flow effortlessly from my lips while I am driving. Unlike with other activities, the anger button is easily pushed while driving. I can be doing a lot of other things and never reach that fast flare of anger that seems to instantly arise when I’m behind the wheel. And the reason is very simple, despite my apparent inability to sufficiently deal with it: it’s ego.

You see, when I’m driving, all the rest of you are in my way. I’m quite perfect. I leave well-enough ahead of time so I don’t have to be in a rush, so it’s not that I’m in your way, it’s you haven’t planned enough time for your drive. And when you do get in my way, it’s because you’re a rude and pathetic self-centered bee-atch!

Well, maybe it’s not everyone else on the road.

The Buddha was consistently clear on how poisonous anger is for us. When he describes the Big Three – I’m not talking automakers – of greed, hatred and delusion, anger is right in there tied up with hatred. Anger is a form of hatred, it is an expression of hatred, and it sullies our kamma every time we allow its expression. Contrary to many pop psychologists, venting anger does not make us feel better; it does not relieve us of our anger. Rather, venting anger gives our mind fodder for justifying future anger so it is sure to reappear again.

Remember the Bhaddekaratta Sutta and the lesson it has for us? We must pay attention to what we are doing right now because what we do right now shapes what is yet to be.

An entire chapter of the Dhammapada is devoted to anger and our need to rid ourselves of this. Anger is described as wretched, causing one to appear ugly and drive away his friends. The Samyukta Agama simply guides us with, “Not being angry is always better than being angry.” And if that wasn’t enough for you, anger is identified as one of the Five Hindrances to one’s practice, more commonly labeled as ill will.

Face it, anger’s got to go.

Granted, the examples of what gets me angry are rather petty. Many of you may believe that what gets you angry is so much more important, so much more meaningful. But I think it’s safe to say that the allegedly “important” things we get angry about are generally infrequent. Most of us get pissed off by really stupid things.

I hope that I am less angry today than I was yesterday, and last month, and last year, etc. But it requires effort, something I don’t always remember and even when I do sometimes remember, it’s effort I want to avoid. I like being angry. I must, because there are so many things I do to nurture it. And if you have issues with anger, I suggest that you must like it as well. If you didn’t like being angry, you would rid yourself of this venomous emotion like you would dispose of a Ted Nugent recording.

When I do cultivate the necessary awareness of my anger, there are a couple tricks I employ. One I mentioned earlier, and that is to immediately create a sense of shame within myself for reacting with anger. I remind myself that the object of my anger, usually another person, is suffering like I do but I have no idea of what they are dealing with. Rather than react with a knee-jerk response that my woes are so much more important and overwhelming than anyone else’s, I attempt to develop a bit of compassion and empathy for my fellow human – even if he or she is an asshole. Whoops, did I say that?

Another trick I use when this option is available is to quickly find a mirror and look at my face. Have you ever really looked at your face while you are angry? Believe me, it’s not as pretty as David Oldham’s maniacal face in Harry Potter. And this really works, because even if you really try, you can’t stay angry while looking at your face in a mirror. It wouldn’t surprise me if you started laughing.

And a final trick, also quite simple, is to immediately be aware of your anger and ask yourself, “what is this? Where does this come from?” By immediately focusing on the origin of your anger, you quickly and cleverly shift your mind’s attention from self-indulgence into healthy investigation.

Granted, this takes effort and practice. But let’s look at the three types of anger as expressed in a simile I once read. There is anger like a line scratched into stone: this line can take years to be erased. There is anger like a line drawn in sand: the line remains for a while, but is eventually removed by the wind. And there is anger like a line drawn in water: so brief and fleeting, no trace of it is left behind.

While I remain quick to anger over the silliest things, my anger is much more like the line drawn in water. Before I found the Buddha, I had a lot of scratched rocks in my mind.

Speaking of anger, the photo with this post is from the memorial in Kuta, Bali, Indonesia, that now resides on the location of the former Paddy's Pub where a bomb exploded on Oct. 12, 2002, killing 202 people and injuring 240 more.

Four Right Efforts for 2011

So it’s that time again when many are making their resolutions for the New Year. I pity them as most will be unable to make good on their resolutions before the end of the first week. But I also have pity for those who succeed on these resolutions because of their clinging to this notion that their success will make them an overall better person. In fact, to the entire concept of making New Year resolutions I say screw it.

Every day is an opportunity to practice the Dhamma with greater skill than the previous day. And every day holds the potential of being our last. Jan. 1 is no more special a day in this regard then March 12, or Aug. 7. Every day is an opportunity for us to better ourselves and to be of greater service to others. Every day is a chance to wipe away a bit more of the film of delusion that covers our eyes and sedates our mind, to rattle our helter skelter actions and bring them out of the self-induced soporific trance of false comfort, to open our eyes and see things for how they really are, not what we wish them to be.

That takes effort; four of them to be precise. And to correctly apply these four efforts, we need to be well-grounded in the present moment.

There are many sayings that reflect to a degree the importance of remaining focused on the present. There is “One day at a time,” perhaps the most common and very effective at reminding us that we shouldn’t dwell too much on the future. But this axiom can be used for selfish ends; for some it is a more palatable form of “eat, drink and be merry for tomorrow you may die,” because it can make us sound like we’re being more responsible. It would be something like spending your life in a gay disco, dancing away the days with all the hot go-go boys, waiting for that moment at the end of the night when all the studly men and boys take off their shirts.

There is “carpe diem,” or “seize the day,” which is a much more aggressive way of reminding us that today may well be our last, so we ought to get as much out of it as we can. This does, however, allow hedonism to run amok in our life because this saying tends to give permission for unrestrained indulgence in sensual pleasure. It would be like spending your life in a gay sauna where you aren’t so much seizing the day, but turgid appendages of flesh.

This adage gets closer to the heart of the matter: “If yesterday is a canceled check, today is cash, and tomorrow a promissory note, go with the cash and spend it today.” But even this allows for personal indulgence in empty spending purely for immediate gratification. It’s like throwing away all your credit cards and using cash only, but you’re still acquiring objects that have no real value and bring you no closer to true happiness as there will always be some new item you don’t and must have.

No, living in the present moment is simpler than that, and yet it’s more difficult to achieve. In the Theranama Sutta, we hear about a solitary monk named Thera who brags about the virtue of living alone. When the Buddha hears about this, he tells Thera that there is his (Thera’s) way of “being alone,” but there is a better way.

“And how is living alone perfected in its details? There is the case where whatever is past is abandoned, whatever is future is relinquished, and any passion & desire with regard to states of being attained in the present is well subdued. That is how living alone is perfected in its details.”

The Buddha relays this message in a slightly different form in the Bhaddekaratta Sutta as well.

“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.
Not taken in,
unshaken,
that’s how you develop the heart.
Ardently doing
what should be done today,
for — who knows? — tomorrow
death.
There is no bargaining
with Mortality & his mighty horde.


Whoever lives thus ardently,
relentlessly
both day & night,
has truly had an auspicious day:
so says the Peaceful Sage.”

So there it is. Living in the present moment means to avoid dwelling in the past because the past is gone. It also means that we recognize that where we are right now is because of what happened in the past. The past is important because it brings us to the here and now, but to dwell on the past cripples us. Pining for the future, or even just thinking about the future, is of no use as well because the future is not here. But recognizing that our future is built upon our present actions is very important. It is only by behaving skillfully in the present can we erase the kamma we created in the past and build a happier future for ourselves.

To help us accomplish this, the Buddha gave us the Four Right Efforts. They are:

To prevent unskillful qualities from arising.
To denourish and remove unskillful qualities already present.
To strengthen and further develop skillful qualities already present.
To nurture and develop skillful qualities not present so they may arise.

There are bad actions that we already don’t do, and that’s good. But we need to make sure that these bad actions never manifest themselves. For example, if we’ve never smoked, then it’s wise that we make sure that we don’t start.

No one is a saint, so there are negative actions we engage in that we need to identify and remove. If we smoke, it would be wise to stop smoking. This example oversimplifies matters, so don’t be beguiled by its apparent simplicity. We all exhibit many subtle negative behaviors that we may not immediately recognize. When we do, we need to strive to remove them.

We all have good qualities. We don’t want to lose them, so we need to strengthen them, just as we would strengthen our body through exercise. If we don’t, we may lose these good qualities, and that would be a bad thing.

Then there are the qualities that we wish to have, that we want to develop. Qualities that we admire in others and wish to emulate. We must work at developing these qualities, because they don’t spontaneously arise. We cannot become more compassionate toward others unless we practice compassion daily. We won’t become more empathetic unless we seek to understand others around us. Our concentration during meditation will not improve unless we work at mindfulness in everything we do and say.

This takes work; that is why they are called “efforts.” And frankly, there are many who call themselves Buddhist who don’t bother to put forth any effort. Even well-known teachers fall into this trap, this “thicket of views” that beguiles one into thinking he or she is following the path. They are like wolves in the coyote stories told by American Indians, an animal capable of rationalizing anything in its own mind (I’ll have to do a post soon about this particular coyote story, it’s an excellent one), or like the eel-wrigglers the Buddha speaks of in the Brahmajala Sutta.

And this is why I have no use for New Year resolutions. Of course, the Buddha did teach that it is alright to use common turns of phrase when speaking with others, provided that we clearly understand the emptiness of these phrases. In particular, the Buddha talked about the self, that it was alright to speak to others about our “selves” as long as we understood that it was just a term of common use and has no real meaning. New Year resolutions fall into this category. In which case, perhaps a skillful resolution to share with others would be to strive toward being more focused on what I am doing right now and how it will shape my future.

Just be a mensch

As I continue to research the Tipitika and the writings of other significant Buddhists on the issue of racism and bigotry – a trending topic from time to time in the Buddho-blogosphere – I thought I would take a bit of a diversion and address a question Terasi posed here.

The gist of Terasi’s question is what does Buddhism offer in terms of practical daily applications? I’ve heard from others about how Buddhism strikes them as being very esoteric, with lots of talk about how to attain Nibbana. But if a person is struggling with their job, or without a job, can Buddhism help with that? Can Buddhism help someone who needs to develop the motivation to stick with an exercise regimen? Can Buddhism help you get out of debt? Can Buddhism get you a salary raise or a promotion at work?

The answer to these and similar questions is yes, but Buddhism won’t get you these things in a direct way. Rather, developing a skilled Buddhist practice that focuses on your personal development into a decent human being will create an easier world around you through which you can maneuver. The problems you face in the world will diminish (but not disappear) as you develop a skilled Buddhist practice because you won’t be creating so many of them anymore. And when that happens, you are better able to help and assist others.

But that’s all high-brow holiness, you’re thinking. I just want to get a better paying job so I can find a better place to live for my family and have our needs met, you say.

Actually, it’s not high-brow at all. It’s very practical. Let’s start in the Digha Nikaya with the Sigalovada Sutta: The Layperson’s Code of Discipline (DN 31). This portrays an encounter between the Buddha and a young man named Sigala, the son of what we would probably call a very middle class father. The Buddha instructs Sigala on proper behavior that will not only protect his reputation, but preserve and expand his family’s wealth and status.

There are four vices that Sigala must eradicate from his behavior and character: killing, stealing, lying and adultery (sexual misconduct). As the Buddha tells Sigala, “These four evils the wise never praise.” By avoiding these vices, others who may be able to benefit you take notice and are willing to assist. But if you exhibit any of these vices, then those who may be able to assist you will withhold their aid when you need it.

Next, the Buddha tells Sigala that he must be sure that his actions are not being led by desire, anger, ignorance and fear (Right View and Right Intention). If our motivation for acting is rooted by desire, anger, ignorance or fear, we will do something that we may later regret; we will bring harm to ourselves, to others, or perhaps both ourselves and others.

This is followed by the Buddha’s description of the six ways we lose our money and good reputation: heavy partying, hanging out late at night, frequenting nightclubs and discos, gambling, associating with companions who are no good, and being lazy.

My favorite part of the sutta is when the Buddha describes to Sigala the four types of people who act like your friends, but who are really enemies, followed by the traits of true “warm-hearted” friends. The former will ruin you and lead you to make wrong decisions, while the latter will protect you and encourage you to make good decisions. There’s even some advice on money management.

The wise and virtuous shine like a blazing fire.
He who acquires his wealth in harmless ways
like to a bee that honey gathers,
riches mount up for him
like ant hill's rapid growth.

With wealth acquired this way,
a layman fit for household life,
in portions four divides his wealth:
thus will he friendship win.

One portion for his wants he uses,
two portions on his business spends,
the fourth for times of need he keeps.

In the last section the Buddha describes the qualities of good parenting, followed by the qualities of being a good son or daughter.

While the Sigalovada Sutta is overtly directed at lay followers, all the suttas – even the ones that are focused on the Jhanas – contain information and guidance that have practical application in our daily life. A good one on this point is the Bhaddekaratta Sutta: An Auspicious Day (MN 131).

In this sutta from the Majjhima Nikaya, the Buddha delivers the most basic guidance of the Buddhist practice: Do not dwell on the past, do not live in the future, pay attention to what is happening right now. The past is over, but what you did in the past is why you are where you are right now. Worrying about the future will not improve your future, nor deliver you to a more desirable future. Rather, by paying attention to what you are thinking, saying and doing right now so that you act skillfully will bring you good results and deliver you to a future filled with happiness.

So while Buddhism doesn’t provide a direct route to achieve material and worldly goals, by following the path faithfully and earnestly, we experience good results more frequently and negative results less frequently. And when opportunity knocks, we find ourselves more aware of the opportunity and better prepared to take advantage of it.

It's an auspicious day, pay attention

There are many songs by Scissor Sisters that I find eloquently connected with the Dhamma, but this one in particular is superb in its rendition of how we can anticipate a particular moment to such a degree that when that moment arrives, it passes us by without us having even experienced it.

The chorus is what really tells the tale:

It can't come quickly enough

And now you've spent your life

Waiting for this moment

And when you finally saw it come

It passed you by and

Left you so defeated

Isn't that how life is? It's a good time to review the "Bhaddekaratta Sutta: An Auspicious Day." (MN 131)

In this sutta, the Buddha reminds us to not dwell on the past, nor become fixed on the future; rather, we must remain focused on the present moment. How we got to this moment is because of what we did in the past, whether we regret our actions or not. And how we get to our desired future depends on what we do now, right here in this moment.

So pay attention; it's a beautiful moment. You're holding your future in your hand.

The present moment is more than Halcyon

Ah, the present moment, like a Moody Blues song as we contemplate breathing deep the gathering gloom, that which we turn into glimmering light of peace and ease, converting to tranquil contentment filled with joy and ecstasy, a moment when …

Hey, wait a minute! Is that really what being in the present moment is all about? Or is it really about paying attention?

On my way to work today, traffic was briefly held up by an earnest pedestrian who decided to run across Ellston at the Forest Glen Metra stop because he saw the train was there, but he was on the wrong side of the road. Not only that, he didn’t have the crosswalk light in his favor. But dab gummite! He didn’t want to miss that train even if he was late, so he just decided to step out into traffic and hope everyone would stop.

Lucky for him, traffic did stop.

This moment got me thinking about the present moment. This late pedestrian wasn’t living in the present moment. Whatever moment he was living in, it had no connection with what the present held for him.

The streets and highways are filled with folks who pay no attention to the present moment, not really, that is. Outside of their car, they may speak with beatific words about living in the moment, absorbing the essence of life, but when it comes right down to it, they have no clue as to what it really means to live within the present moment.

Living in the present moment isn’t this esoteric blissful state that many think it. It’s not an artificial halcyon existence, although if one does properly live in the present moment, ease and tranquility follow you like a shadow that never leaves.

But getting there is much more mundane than simply smoking a joint and saying, “chill out dude and enjoy the moment.”

Consider the solitary monk Thera. In the Theranama Sutta, the Buddha hears about this character, Thera, who extols the virtures of living alone. The Buddha doesn’t directly refute the way Thera lives alone, but the Buddha does add some context to what it really means to “be alone.”

“And how is living alone perfected in its details? There is the case where whatever is past is abandoned, whatever is future is relinquished, and any passion & desire with regard to states of being attained in the present is well subdued. That is how living alone is perfected in its details.”

Hmmm, forget the past, the future must be let go as well too, and controlling one’s actions and feeling in the present, well, that’s the only real action to be taken! Pay attention to what is happening now, that’s what the Buddha is saying, right?

Well, let’s get some confirmation. Let’s take a look at the Bhaddekaratta Sutta and see what it says.

“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.
Not taken in,
unshaken,
that’s how you develop the heart.
Ardently doing
what should be done today,
for — who knows? — tomorrow
death.
There is no bargaining
with Mortality & his mighty horde.

Whoever lives thus ardently,
relentlessly
both day & night,
has truly had an auspicious day:
so says the Peaceful Sage.”

I’m beginning to see a pattern here. It’s as if the Buddha is saying, “Hey you! Pay attention to what is happening right now! Know what you are doing because where you are right now is the result of your past, and what you do right now is going to determine your future. So pay attention!”

So the next time you’re late for work and traffic is heavy and you’re stuck behind me, try to remember it’s not my fault you’re late. You are responsible for where you are right now, in this moment. You put yourself there. I didn’t, and no body else did. You did. You. It starts with you.

The image with this post comes from Benny Chan and was taken in Peru.

Arahantavagga: Arahants

This is almost becoming onerous. I’m going to stick with this, but I have to admit that I am developing a sense that in blogging about the various chapters within the Dhammapada I am being very superficial. However, how can I be otherwise? Faced with chapter seven, I see the subject of the Arahantavagga is Arahants, which in the Theravada tradition is a term referring to an enlightened being. I’m not certain, but I believe in the Mahayana tradition, an Arhat is similar, but is someone who’s not quite there yet.

Regardless, I am not an Arahant. And I have no real desire to strive to attain enlightenment. And I’m sure that most lay practitioners have similar sentiments, even if they don’t outwardly express them. We just want to be decent people and avoid as many hassles inherent in samsara that we can. We want to have a pleasant abiding in the here and now. And we’d like a reasonable assurance that in our next lifetime we aren’t going to find ourselves in a Kafka novel reborn as a bug. So what relevance does the Arahantavagga have for folks like me?

“In one who
has gone the full distance,
is free from sorrow,
is fully released
in all respects,
has abandoned all bonds:
no fever is found.”

All right, I get it: Enlightenment is a pretty sweet deal. You have total release from all suffering because you have cut all the connections the mind creates to impermanent things. But it’s so far away for me it might as well be the moon. Hell, it might as well be a quasar on the edge of the known universe.

“The mindful keep active,
Don’t delight in settling back.
They renounce every home,
every home,
like swans taking off from a lake.”

This doesn’t help all that much either. It’s more descriptive, and the image called up by this simile is quite beautiful in a way; I can picture swans taking off from a lake, leaving the water behind. But what does this “renounce every home, every home,” mean? I admit that I’m stuck on that one.

“Not hoarding,
having comprehended food,
their pasture — emptiness
& freedom without sign:
their trail,
like that of birds through space,
can’t be traced.

Effluents ended,
independent of nutriment,
their pasture — emptiness
& freedom without sign:
their trail,
like that of birds through space,
can’t be traced.”

These verses have more meaning for me. I understand that the goal is to move through life without leaving a trail behind you, like a bird flying through the air. A snake leaves a tell-tale sign in the sand of its passing; deer leave deep impressions in the earth that allow a skillful hunter to locate and kill them. These footprints, the trails left behind represent kamma; everything we do, think or say creates kamma and the goal is to stop creating kamma, to be like a bird flying through the air that leaves no trace behind. It is kamma that holds us in the cycle or rebirth and death; eliminate kamma and we are free.

“He whose senses are steadied
like stallions
well-trained by the charioteer,
his conceit abandoned,
free of effluent,
Such:
even devas adore him.

Like the earth, he doesn’t react —
cultured,
Such,
like Indra’s pillar,
like a lake free of mud.
For him
— Such —
There’s no traveling on.

Calm is his mind,
calm his speech
& his deed:
one who’s released through right knowing,
pacified,
Such.”

These verses more clearly recall for me the literary mechanism that was employed in the Dhammapada, and the frustration I feel at times when faced with what I perceive to be impossible goals fades. For example, it’s worth revealing what the notes to the above verses say about Indra’s pillar: “Indra's pillar = a post set up at the gate of a city… there was an ancient custom of worshipping this post with flowers and offerings, although those who wanted to show their disrespect for this custom would urinate and defecate on the post. In either case, the post did not react.”

I may not be an Arahant, I may not be enlightened, but I can be more like an Arahant, I can at least strive for that. Because everyday I react to thins, to people, and events. Everyday I let some little thing send me into a frenzy of emotion. I’m not about to let people shit on me, but I can strive to be more like Indra’s pillar. And every day I have opportunities to practice that.

“The man
faithless / beyond conviction
ungrateful / knowing the Unmade
a burglar / who has severed connections
who’s destroyed
his chances / conditions
who eats vomit: / has disgorged expectations:
the ultimate person.”

This verse is pretty freaking graphic. I mean, eating vomit? But again, there is a literary mechanism going on here. On the left side of the slashes is a negative state or quality or action, while on the right side of the slash represent positive alternative. “The negative meanings are so extremely negative that they were probably intended to shock their listeners,” read the notes. Indeed, eating vomit is pretty shocking. But then knowing that, you read the left side of the slashes as a verse unto itself, and the right side similarly. Hence, the left side reads as:

“Faithless, ungrateful, a burglar who’s destroyed his chances, who eats vomit.”

And the right sides reads as:

“Beyond conviction, knowing the Unmade, who has severed connections, has disgorged expectations.”

Reading it like that, it becomes clear to me what the vomit sequence is getting at, and that is the Arahant has purged him or herself of all the toxic conditions of samsara, while the unskilled eats what the Arahant has purged through his or her ignorance. The Arahant knows that these kammic connections are toxic, but the unskilled doesn’t know that: despite it being like vomit, the unskilled – the ignorant – think it’s good, the essence of delusion.

“In village or wilds,
valley, plateau:
that place is delightful
where arahants dwell.

Delightful wilds
where the crowds don’t delight,
those free from passion
delight,
for they’re not searching
for sensual pleasures.”

These final verses now tie together how I can apply the lesson here. I begin to see that it doesn’t matter whether I live in a big city (which I do), or in the desert or in a rain forest or in a secluded valley or a high plateau or even a cave near a mountain top. Running away from the world to find seclusion to work on my squirrel mind isn’t going to help on its own. This is also made clear in the Bhaddekaratta Sutta (MN 131) when the Buddha instructs that “living alone” means being in the present moment.

There is also the Theranama Sutta (SN 21.10), which deals with a monk who lived in the forest alone, eschewing contact with everyone, including other monks. The Buddha instructs that “living alone” does not always literally mean physically separating oneself from the rest of the world. Rather, it can simply mean refining the mind to the point where one is fully present in the here and now, unconcerned with the past, unconcerned with the future, knowing that how goes the present moment, there goes the future. Achieving that focus of mind does not require isolation.

So maybe I’m not destined to be an Arahant. But clearly, there are some things I can learn from making a few meager attempts to emulate some of their characteristics.

Separation is stress – Duh!

On Monday I took my partner of the last 27 months to the airport and said goodbye. His visa was about to expire and there was no way an American employer was going to hire him in this economy when thousands of American citizens are looking for work. I had really thought that I had found someone to spend the rest of my life with, to grow old with. And even if we had taken the drive over to Iowa and been married, in the end that would not have made a difference with yesterday’s outcome.

Silly me how I forgot about how all things are impermanent.

For weeks I was preparing myself for Monday’s eventual arrival. I wasn’t so much holding my emotions in check as I was actively observing them. Moments of anxiety were inevitable, but knowing right away their source eased their impact. What I was really preparing for was what I presumed would be my ultimate failure to control my emotions. I held this mental image that after I dropped him off at the airport, I would go home and cry away the rest of the day. After all, I had been through a similar situation in the past when I had also fallen in love with a man on a temporary visa, who also had to leave the country because he could not find a job because the economy at that time had also tanked.

But it didn’t happen that way this time. Yes, I feel sadness, but it’s not this heavy, weighty sadness as I had experienced in the past. No, I have not become indifferent, unfeeling. Rather, the emotion is quite rich and varied, definitely there to be experienced. What’s different this time, I think, is that while I am experiencing these emotions, I am also observing them.

There is no doubt that I deeply love and care for Benny; I always will. There is no question about this, nor is there any doubt within me about how Benny feels about me. It is as certain as I know my own heart. And I have the Buddha’s teachings to thank for this.

Don’t get me wrong, I am by no means an expert in Buddhism, nor am I someone who practices the Dhamma as if my hair were on fire. There is hardly a time while driving that I don’t experience an outburst of anger because of some pigheaded driver in another vehicle; I drink and swear too much; I am horrible with money management; and I like sex way too much to even dare think about the eventual day when I may not be able to perform.

But I do practice.

Perhaps the most meaningful of all the suttas for me is the Bhaddekaratta Sutta (MN 131), which is translated under a variety of titles including Discourse on Living Happily in the Present Moment; The Discourse on the Ideal Lover of Solitude; and An Auspicious Day. I will quote a portion of the sutta from the former, as translated by Thich Nhat Hanh.

“Do not pursue the past.
Do not lose yourself in the future.
The past no longer is.
The future has not yet come.
Looking deeply at life as it is
in the very here and now,
the practitioner dwells
in stability and freedom.
To wait until tomorrow is too late.
Death comes unexpectedly.”

In the rest of the sutta, the Buddha explains that the past is done, it’s over. By dwelling on the past, commiserating over what has already happened, we distract ourselves from the present moment, which often leads to very unskillful actions yielding poor results. It is paramount, the Buddha instructed, that we focus our minds on the present moment, because it is out of the present moment that our futures arise. You want to ensure yourself a happy future? Then pay attention to what is going on right now. Want to undo some stupid things you’ve done in the past? Then pay attention to what you are doing right now.

There is no question that I would prefer that Benny would have been able to stay with me, or that I would be able to go with him; however, he is not Audrey Hepburn and I am not George Peppard in “Breakfast at Tiffany’s.” But I haven’t lost him either.

This brings to mind a koan I learned from the movie “Samsara.” It goes like this: How can you ever prevent a drop of water from evaporating?

By giving it to the sea.