Totally Confused

I kept imagining a timeline, with a moment in the middle, and the past and present on either sides—each as long as the other. I'm in the middle now. I’ll always be in middle.

I asked a physicist once where I was in the universe. “Was I in the center?” “No,” he said, “you are more like a 1/3 of the way in or out....” I don't remember which.

Well, that's space... And, like time, it defines where we are. 

It worried me thinking about dementia the other day. I don’t want to throw away my past or future. I want it all. The richness of a given situation seems to depend on what we can bring to it, and what we can take away.

I took a mindfulness workshop many years ago. I asked a young monk if you could be in the moment and think about the past. He talked on and on. I "got" that you could, but didn't understand what he was saying. 

So what is the difference between daydreaming, and “being here now” thinking of the good old Beach Boys? Is one state more “present” than the other. 

It is costly to be asleep. There was a $20 bill lying in the street that I missed while I was seduced by a pile of trash someone had thrown out. Someone else found the $20 and asked me if it was mine. “No,” I regretfully had to answer.

In a daydream am I in my daydream? What is so bad about sitting on a couch and thinking of some rich moment in the past, or yearning to fulfill some fantasy in the future. I could even use the meat argument... that God wouldn't have made chickens if we weren't suppose to eat them (God wouldn’t give us fantasies if we weren’t meant to fulfill them). 

I told my wife that when you enter the Buddhist stream, you become fully enlightened in no more than seven years. “Who makes up this stuff?” she asked. “I don't know,” I answered. Maybe seven is a code word for someday. 

I marvel at race car drivers, gymnasts, and others who have demanding challenges. They need to concentrate 100% all the time. I heard of a Zen priest (Philip Whalen) who could do the same. He'd count his breaths to ten over and over again for each entire period of meditation. No daydreams there!

Obstructions

Lisa quoted Rumi on Facebook "There is a field beyond right and wrong. I'll meet you there.”

I’m thinking of the gas chambers like Zika. The gas chambers made sense to Hitler. The problem with Zika is not solved by condemning the mosquitoes. We can’t coexist with the disease as Jews (and many others) couldn’t coexist with Hitler or ISIS. I think we can let go of the judgement because it is not productive. We can focus on the problem.

My mom used to say, solve problems, not people. Condemning others seems like a waste of time. Zika is just trying to do what diseases like to do—thrive. It isn’t “bad.” But it is a problem for us, so we try to stop it. We feel we need to judge another as evil or wrong to stop them. Beyond that field of right and wrong we see obstructions to our lives. Hatred just eats us up. Dealing with the obstructions do not.

Uphill

We read about how, when we enter the stream, we go against the flow of water.*

Not to be guided by habitual habits or by already acquired karma, we create new karma.

It is not an easy path. If we let go for a moment, the stream will take us by force and carry us away.

The stream path ends at its beginning where a few drops of water come over a rock.

Branches and debris block our way, but we persist.

No, life is not easy. Living is not succumbing to the flow.

In Qigong we learn to stand with our knees slightly bent. A giant cannot push over a tiny old master. 

P.S. I was wrong here... we go both with the flow and against the flow:

“Māra, the personification of reactivity, is conquered not by eliminating every last reaction from one’s mind but by finding a way to become impervious to his attacks. We acquire freedom from reactivity yet without the reactivity ceasing to occur. If we observe these impulses and do not feed them, they will die down over time and diminish in frequency. But, as this text makes clear, Gotama continued to be subject to Māra’s attacks even after his awakening. As long as we are embodied in flesh, nerves, and blood, reactivity will be part and parcel of what it entails to be human.

I doubt that the Buddha used the same word sota (stream) in two conflicting senses by accident. Here he says that the practice of dharma “goes against the stream,” but as we saw in the previous chapter, he described the practitioner of the dharma as one who “enters the stream.” In the first case, sota denotes the stream of reactivity; in the second, it refers to the stream of the eightfold path. By combining these two metaphors, we arrive at an image of two streams of water encountering each other head on: the stream of the eightfold path flows into and goes against the stream of reactivity. The result is turbulence.”

Batchelor, Stephen (2015-10-28). After Buddhism: Rethinking the Dharma for a Secular Age (p. 64-65). Yale University Press. Kindle Edition.


I guess “not by eliminating every last reaction” would be not to live in a protective shell, not going on long jaunts to far away places. Perhaps the idea of Buddhism bringing peace has to be replaced with Buddhism bringing turbulence.

A Moment is not on a Timeline

Yesterday I had the idea that being in the moment isn't about choosing this moment as a point on a time line, but rather it is about not using time as our lens to view our lives. Beyond time. When we stop seeing our life as linear we are brought to this moment as a collection of all moments. The past, present and future are no longer separated and become one. (Past is not what happened yesterday, but our dream today of yesterday. The future is not what will happen tomorrow, but it is our dream of what will happen tomorrow.) (In the link below, here is the definition of “Right View” as being about stress: “And what is right view? Knowledge with regard to stress, knowledge with regard to the origination of stress, knowledge with regard to the cessation of stress, knowledge with regard to the way of practice leading to the cessation of stress: This is called right view.”

When you close a book, you can embrace it as a “thing” rather than as an event that occurs in time. 

Small mind distinguishes and big mind brings them together. Seeing both, seen through a different eye, allows us to both be in our dream and to see our dream as being outside of time. Of course, seeing our dreams is just another dream. But there is a little more perspective there.

P.S. If you want something not to think about today, don't ask yourself this: “Do you control your mind or does your mind control you?” I just received that from my first Zen teacher. Is controlling one’s mind like trying to control one’s life? How does it connect to the Buddhist’s “right view.” (See: http://www.accesstoinsight.org/ptf/dhamma/sacca/sacca4/samma-ditthi/ for more on right view.)

We Are Not Our Banana

I heard this a few weeks ago: “What we think is real but not true.”

I think that can help with creating equanimity. Though we passionately believe stuff, we should also realize that they are beliefs, not truths.

We can’t know the truth because we are just seeing the world from our vantage point, and we don’t know how things will turn out.

We can believe that one horse will win the race. But until the race is over, we don’t know who won. And in a photo finish, we may never know.

Think about times when you’ve believed something completely and then learned it was false. That’s how (I think) we should hold all our beliefs. Lightly. Ready to let go when the information changes.

We are not our beliefs. We are richer than that. If a belief was a banana in a jar, we can put our fist around it and get stuck, for then neither the hand nor the banana will come out of the jar.

Or we can turn the jar over and the banana will come out on its own. Equanimity is not holding onto the banana with a closed fist. We are not our banana.

Awesome Poem

“From a young age, our parents impressed on us the values that you work hard for what you want in life, that your word is your bond and you do what you say and keep your promise, that you treat people with respect. They taught and showed us values and morals in their daily lives. That is a lesson that we continue to pass along. And we need to pass those lessons on to the many generations to follow. Because we want our children in this nation to know that the only limit to your achievements is the strength of your dreams and your willingness to work for them.”

Awesome Poem

I told my wife 

“I’m going to write 

a poem tonight.”

And then 

Caroline brings this prompt, 

and it didn't seem like a prompt,

at all.

At least, not one

to inspire 

a poem, 

at all. 

I've started to notice,

more and more,

how some things tick me off. 

As we read the prompt,

together in unison, 

I  found myself 

somewhere between 

being ticked off, 

(very) supremely ticked off,

and wondering if 

these words were part 

of Michelle Obama's 

wonderful speech 

the other night (at the DNC).

Today 

I read 

she had no political intentions 

in her speech—

unlike the others 

she followed.

And yet, 

after the speech, 

many said, 

”she ought to be president.”

The prompt seemed dated, 

perhaps it was from 

the Cleavers 

in the 50s. 

My wife said at dinner 

something about how,

if we had better schools, 

things would be different. 

We ended up realizing

it would take about 

three generations 

to really make a change... 

A profound 

change,

that is.

I think this tirade started 

with her 

wondering 

how so many people 

could vote for 

a bully. 

I told her 

that the odds were…

he'd win.

Oh…. 

My friend just texted me, 

“”write something awesome.”

If I didn't know better,

I'd….

So there, 

I tried to write 

an awesome poem. 

And then I wanted to say

“I'd pick my nose”

and you can't say that 

in a poem. 

In high school, 

did you ever read a poem 

about nose picking? No!

Or even about bullies, 

or the Cleavers? 

I heard the other night,

on NPR, 

a poet was told 

he had a terminal illness.

He became very depressed 

and wrote 

the best poems of his life. 

I thought, God, 

grant me 

a terminal illness. 

Oh, just kidding, God.

Let me try again:

The lime I stole from

the Zen center was so

delicious, it made my 

smoothie so great that

my friends drank it 

with such gusto—

so much gusto, 

in fact

that I didn't have 

any left today.

That's a dumb poem. 

Glad there are only 

two minutes left.

I can blame 

the advancing clock 

on my not writing 

anything close to awesome. 

Or I can blame it

on my lack of

having a terminal illness, 

Or maybe 

I wasn't raised right, 

like my neighbors, 

who had their mouths, 

washed with soap,

when they swore.

Lost and Found

I search and search... The perfect this and that. One day it is searching for the perfect diet, then the perfect exercise, then the perfect shampoo, then the perfect friend. The dissatisfaction is looking for the perfect me... How would I really like to be, what would I like to know?

I totally confused a man at the free sample sushi table at Central Market today. I've never seen it without someone handing out samples before. There is a little story here. A few weeks ago I was handed a piece of sushi by an Asian looking guy. He said, have a kamikaze roll. I wondered if he knew what it meant and finally found out that it also referred to a drink that was a mixture of various ingredients.

So I figured that kamikaze must have more meanings than the one who gets in an airplane and rams it into an enemy plane, killing all. 

Today the chef/pilot was nowhere to be seen. I was a little worried about him. 

An old man was there, also waiting for a sample. I put a sample in a cup and handed it to him. He declined the gift, and so I ate it myself. Then he said, “Oh, that was very nice of you." So I said, “Yes." I think I more surprised him than anything... but probably should have responded better.

How would the I who I'd like to be respond? If I'm already me, who was it that was responding? Would/should we be the person who'd we like to be? Since our friends like us as we are (I don't think they'd wait around), would we have to find new friends?

Suzuki Roshi said, “You are perfect just the way you are... and you could stand a little improvement? Could both parts of the statement be true? If I am perfect just as I am, why do I have to do anything? And also, why do I have to change.

A high school classmate recently wrote, “You don't marry the perfect spouse. You marry to become the perfect spouse.” But where do you start? I’m full of loose pages and frayed edges and need a lot of tender conservation.

I certainly often think it is better on the other side of the stream. I waited breathlessly until I could get a drivers license... but by the time I did get it, at 23, it wasn't such a big deal. And I waited breathlessly to get through with high school, to get through with college, to have a real job, to retire from the job, to this and that. I waited breathlessly for what would make me happy. All things on the other side of the river. Where is the boat to take me across?

Wait, the wise man says that I'm already there. Can't he see I want to be on his side, where the grass is greener? How can I be satisfied with this stuff that isn't the perfect this or that... or is it?