Reflections: Practice-Experience & the Ten Thousand Things

One of the thoughts that's visited me time-to-time over the last week is that it's been nearly four years since the beginning of my online presence and nearly three years since the start of this blog.

Both of those decisions were motivated by a search for Sangha. (By Sangha I'm referring to friends that would be supportive of my efforts to practice and increase my understanding of what the Buddha taught). The start of this blog also marked my decision to get a divorce.

To quote from that first post: "At this particular moment, I am enjoying the not knowing, a sense of hope..."

What was I hoping for? More rewarding connection with other human beings, with a preference for people interested in what the Buddha taught because that was the direction I found most personally rewarding. The opportunity to feel fulfilled at least occasionally.

~ ~ ~

As I sit back and review the last four years, I see both positive and negative outcomes:

On the positive side: my on-line Sangha, my brief experiences at Antaiji and Sanshin, a living arrangement that allows more time for studies of the Shobogenzo and provides a quiet place to sit, study and sleep, at least two meals per day, and a local Sangha which although small, without a teacher and not very interactive, does provide me with company during zazen.

On the negative side, my actual interactive contact with people in real life is more minimal than ever in my life before. In fact, it's almost non-existent. One of the negative things I find myself saying to myself sometimes is: Most people in prisons and even the homeless have more conversations in a day than I do.

In short, I seem to have gone backwards in terms of what I was hoping for at the time I wrote my first post. I'm trapped in my circumstances for an unknown amount of time. I'm still trapped in the mortgage I share with my ex and, as a result, my current position. More recently, the double whammy of my mother's recent passing and dealing with what she left behind feels like more than I can stand.

~ ~ ~

For the past few months, Bodhidharma's encounter with Emperor Wu has run through my mind repeatedly:

Emperor Wu: "...Who is standing before me?"

Bodhidharma: "I know not..."

As I've practiced, one of the things I've learned is to "drop off" my views of who I am. In theory, by dropping off views of self, a person lives a more peaceful, richer and fuller life -- although not necessarily "happier" in the typical definition of happiness -- and is actualized by the ten thousand things. In the spirit of letting the ten thousand things provide the answer to the question of who I am,

As an example, the livingroom. (I'm going to delete this picture.)

I am encountering walls of resentment in myself as karma (or whatever) continues, without relief, to hit me over the head with answers like my mother's house and stalling even small efforts to get myself out isolation and interacting with people. This is all I am? 

The resentment I'm feeling is due to the fact that the above is not what I chose. I chose getting away from being a slave to inanimate objects and increasing interactions with sentient beings. 

~ ~ ~

Recently, rather than reading Dogen, I've been returning to some of Theravada literature as well as listening to some Dharma talks. This started when my friends at Amazon recommended The Art of Disappearing by Ajahn Brahm, which, by the way, may be one of the best and most straight-forward guides to meditation and enlightenment around (if enlightenment exists). To quote from the Preface: "Do not read this book if you want to be a somebody. It will make you a nobody." The Preface was signed "Not really Ajahn Brahm"... Because this post is getting long, I intend to write more in follow-up, including what I've gathered from Ajahn Brahm in regard to the issue I've mentioned, the resentment I'm feeling, as well as offer a few more comments about his book.

Reflections: What if 'Self' isn't Real?

We all have many teachers. I was asked the title question by one of mine recently. I am very grateful. And again, I must humbly acknowledge that my understanding is likely, as yet, still incomplete.

What if 'Self' isn't Real?:

Although I don't believe in the classical Christian God (to some folks dismay), what I do believe in these days is an all-pervading consciousness. 'Self' may very well be an artifact or epiphenomenon of the fact that our sensory processing and response mechanisms are housed in individual bodies. (This could explain why neuroscientists, while they can map perception of distinct features of the external world on to different areas of the brain, have failed to map comprehension/conscioousness.) What if this all-pervading consciousness is the sum or some mathematical factor of our individual consciousnesses?


More importantly, if we accept that the ‘self’ is not real how does this affect our view of the world and the rest of humanity? If 'self' is not real, I am not separate from the other 'selves' in the world. Past, present, and future merge with this unified 'being' into one shimmering pearl. Seen as the 'whole' we are no longer subject to the suffering of individual moments nor are we subject to suffering due to a perspective of isolation. The result is a sense of equanimity or, in other words, an inner monastery we can tap into during our daily living.

If we accept that the ‘self’ is not real how might that impact our daily lifestyle as well as any long term goals we might have? Does it matter if our bodies survive? Why should my individual contribution to consciousness matter in view of a greater consciousness?:
-- To add strength and positivity. To help aid and heal the whole.
-- In the effort to "liberate all beings" from the view of individualized 'self'.

Reflections: Self – The Gift that Keeps on Giving

Someone not too long ago asked me the question “What is self?” It’s an important question, because ‘self’, either directly or indirectly, is behind our motivation for just about everything. So after mulling it over, here are a few pieces that may frame part of an answer.

1) ‘Self’ is a set of physical, mental, and emotional reflexes we acquire at birth and these reflexes evolve as we grow older.

2) ‘Self’ is what perceives, interprets, judges, and reacts to the external world.

3) Our sense of ‘self’ is the cause of our suffering, in the Buddhist sense of suffering. But ‘self’ is also what will experience 'enlightenment' (whatever that is) if we’re lucky enough.

4) We should try to be true, honest, and compassionate with our ‘selves’, because if we aren’t, it’s a big drain on our resources – physical, psychological, and emotional. Our ‘selves’ can become our own worst critic. It’s from a healthy or free self that we can most compassionately answer to our responsibilities and cope with the external circumstances and changes that arise in our lives. I should add that, right now, I really don’t know what a healthy or free self is, except that in my personal dictionary it may be equated with enlightenment, and that while I’ve always said I’ve never been in the practice for the end-gaining of enlightenment, I do, very much, want to be psychologically healthy and free.

Several years ago now, I moved beyond occasionally meditating primarily for stress relief and ‘energy clearing', began a personal daily meditation practice and joined a local Sangha. That transition was accompanied by a belief in the concept of ‘no self’, because allowing my inner critic and bag of reactive mental and emotional reflexes to continue unchecked was no longer an option. In contrast, now that some years have passed, an indirect effect of zazen (sitting meditation) has been an expanding sense of ‘self’ that more and more seems to include other people and the world. Is this one possible interpretation of ‘not self', as opposed to ‘no self’?

A concept likely involved in this transition, for me, was: “Don’t take things personally.” I began to see that most people were acting and responding from a bag of mental and emotional reflexes, much like, though obviously separate, from my own. I began to see through their actions and responses to where they might be coming from, and that became more important or, at least interesting, than responding reactively. There was ‘self’ in others, and I could feel their suffering and wanted to help. But how? In most cases, there’s very little that actually falls into the ‘help’ category that people want from me. I don’t know where this gets me, other than feeling helpless. What I do know, at this particular moment, is that I find myself drawn to helping people in dire indisputable need; hoping to be alert enough, and not so lost in my routine and my 'self'-centered thinking, to be helpful in daily encounters (yeah, the 'self'-centered thinking is still there to some extent); and, most of all, drawn back to the cushion for zazen. Right now? No, right now it's time for dinner.

Many thanks to my Twitter Sangha, those who prompted the question, and those who were around while I was mulling this over.

Fine tendrils of sun

eased through the gray fog, lighting

beauty this morning.