The illusion of safety

I keep checking the news to see if the Richmond Police are any closer to finding the murderers of Ravi and Parmi, the owners of the Sahib Restaurant who were killed about a week ago.  Unlike many murders which get only the briefest mention in the paper and then completely drop out of the public eye, this murder has not gone unnoticed.  Perhaps it was the random nature of the crime, the good nature of the victims, and the fact that the Sikh community, of which the victims were a part, are hurt and outraged, and quite frankly fed up with the violence that has been directed towards those in their community.  Unlike some gang kid who gets murdered and who is only known to their friends and family, the Kalsis brothers were known to many as the kind, gracious men who had served them many a good meal.  Food has a way of creating an instant intimacy. 

When I have spoken to people about this crime, everyone can instantly see the tragedy: two hard working brothers come to the US and create for themselves the American dream and then are murdered for no apparent reason. It’s the last part that gets people shaking their heads.  Not that being murdered in the course of a robbery would make it OK, but at least it could be understood.  But, for two young thugs to kill these two gentle men for seemingly no reason?  It makes no sense.  Which is probably for the best.  For it to make sense, we would have to accept the idea we are all potential prey for thrill killers.  Even if the reason for people committing a crime seem completely deluded, at least we can point to a reason.  And somehow by understanding the reason, we feel we can keep ourselves safe.

From my own personal experience as a victim of violent crime, I know that safety is an illusion, and justice, for most victims, is merely a dream.  I’ve accepted this for myself.  It took some work and many years of confused pain, but I’m at peace with what happened to me and no longer have any anger towards those who harmed me.   While my view may seem cynical or resigned, it is not.  It is realistic.  Of course, we take reasonable precautions to keep ourselves and others safe, and we strive for justice (true justice – not justice that is merely revenge in a palatable disguise).   We just need to not grasp at safety or justice as something that is guaranteed.  It will only get us stuck in anger and frustration

After years of asking “why me?” and self-medicating with alcohol, and then more years of therapy and learning to accept “shit happens”, it wasn’t until I met Buddha’s teachings on karma and compassion that I was truly able to heal (which I’ll write about at another time).  But what about others?  It’s one thing for me to be a peace, but here in Richmond and elsewhere so many others are suffering the effects of violence.  At a recent town-hall meeting, the usual solutions are called for; more police, more jobs, better education, etc.  And no doubt we need all of the above.  But for us to have peace in our homes and on our streets, it starts with peace within each person.  And how do you implement or mandate that? 

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Despite my cynicism, that storm did indeed pack a punch.  But the end result was just inconvenience and some property damage, so nothing too awful.   The Richmond-San Rafael Bridge was closed due to not one, not two, not three, but four overturned big rigs (two in each direction).  My house overlooks the freeway right before tollbooths on the Richmond side.  It appeared as if it were the end of the world.  The highway was dead empty, with the exception of a few stray cars who obviously hadn’t been listening to the radio.  So, I would watch them go westbound, and about a minute later, back eastbound.

Bending, not breaking

At least that is what I would view my current frame of mind.  My boss and my boyfriend may beg to disagree. 

Last week was a 7o hr week at work, the week before 65, and this week may likewise break 60.  So, it’s not hard to imagine that I’m getting a little tired and cranky.  Until this last Monday I was handling it somewhat gracefully.  Sure, I was loopy, but there was no yelling or tears.  But, this last Monday I finally lost it.  And while there is little residual damage – I merely broke down in tears in front the boss (he started it!  He asked me how I was doing.  I mean, come on with that kind of provocation who wouldn’t come unglued?), and then screamed an expletive-filled rant at the boyfriend (again, he started! He called to see how I was doing.  I mean, how much concern can one woman take??).  I did, however, hold my tongue with my co-worker who I am truly angry at.  While I do need to address things with her, this is not the time to do so.

But, I’m better now.  A little sleep and a change in expectations, and I’ll get through another week . . . and then another . . . and another.  I hope to finally get some time off  in, oh, February.  My colleague has opted to take a long vacation right after we go live and leave me covering her unstable apps as well as mine.  Grrrrrr.

On the way home from work last night, I realized during all this drama, I had pretty much forgotten the dharma.  My meditation practice has been in the toilet and now lacking a regular spiritual community,  it’s pretty easy to forget many of the ethical guidelines by which I tried to live my life.   It’s not like I have become part of the criminal element, or even one of the Spears girls, but even relaxing my standards a bit makes me feel a bit guilty. 

It’s mostly my mouth that has gotten out of control.  I’m angry at my colleague and rather than be an adult about it, I’m talking shit behind her back.  It’s juvenile and wrong, I know.  But, it can be such a delicious way of bonding with another person who likewise doesn’t like the person we’re dishing.  My anger feels righteous, and it’s fun to be snarky and bitchy.  Yet, I know it’s wrong, which makes it less fun.

I am even knowingly breaking one of my Pratimoksha vows:

• Abstaining from killing
• Abstaining from stealing
• Abstaining from lying
• Abstaining from sexual misconduct (basically cheating)
• Abstaining from intoxicants

No, I shan’t say which one I’m breaking.    But, I know I am breaking my vows and I do regret it.  But, at the same time, I think it is the one where the only harm is done is to yourself, so I’m cutting myself some slack.

There are a lot of things I can learn from this experience, but I’m still in it so it’s a bit early to reflect. 

Oh, and Happy Holidays?  I hear a major holiday is right around the corner.  At least that’s the rumor I heard somewhere around the office. 

The dharma quest begins

One of the things I am determined to start doing is checking out other Buddhist traditions and teachers.  Reading their books is one thing, but to visit in person is entirely another. 

My quest started in  my own backyard of Point Richmond.  There is a historic old church downtown that was formally known as Linsley Chapel (and I think it had a brief incarnation as Gaia House), but is now called the Dakini Temple, run by the Dharmata Foundation.   I can’t find out much about their lineage, but I believe they say it is they are Vajrayana and the teacher is a young Tibetan monk named Anam Thubten Rimpoche.

The meditation hall was decorated quite simply.  Surprisingly so considering the Tibetan origins of the teacher.  There were three large thankas (Tibetan deity paintings), but no statues or offering bowls or other offerings.  With few decorations, the beauty of the Julia Morgan designed building itself stood out.  (The chapel used to be a popular wedding rental – not sure if it still available for those).  There were close to 100 people there, mostly seated on floor cushions, though folding chairs were available. 

When the Rimpoche entered the hall, there was no big ceremony – no standing up, no prostrations.  He simply sat down and began the meditation without a word.  I didn’t have a good session because I was distracted by all the noise of people coming in late, and by my own judgements of everyone around me.  The two people who were seated in front of me were driving me crazy!  They kept exchanging “meaningful” looks during the dharma talk, and the fellow was obviously not comfortable sitting on the floor so he changed his position every minute or two, and eventually he and his girlfriend ended up in some odd pretzel position with their arms and legs intertwined.  I appreciated the relaxed atmosphere, but they were taking it too far! 

The first half of the service was meditation, recitation of the Heart Sutra and chanting of the its mantra, recitation of a prayer by Shantideva, some Tonglen visualization and finally dedication.   There was a brief break and then everyone came back for the dharma talk.  While the Rimpoche’s English was accented, I found him easy to understand.  He was teaching on Emptiness, my favorite topic!   His manner was very gentle and thoughtful with the rare touch of humor.  My initial impression is good.

It was interesting watching my mind though.  In addition to all the judging I was doing of the other people there (who were almost all white, middle-class and middle-aged – just like me), I found myself holding myself back from trying to jump in immediately and find out about all their offerings and becoming a member.  I’ve always had a tendency to jump for the comfort of commitment when I find something that is “good enough” whether that be a car, a place to live, a partner or a spiritual path.  I’m determined not to fall into that pattern again.  

The quest continues.

You gotta have faith? Conclusion

One of the reasons I had stayed in the NKT study program for a decade was a belief that I needed the structure of the twice-weekly classes in order to maintain my practice. There was a fear that I would lapse into complete spiritual lethargy without my regular infusions of dharma. Perhaps that was true for a period. I don’t know where the turning point was, I suspect it was sometime in the last year, but I no longer need that crutch of having my dharma spoon-fed and pre-digested for me.

With the loss of my teacher and my community, I found that I still craved the dharma. I still craved my practice. It was no longer an obligation, but something I loved. While we were always encouraged to find the dharma everywhere, now that there isn’t a physical space that is the focus of my spiritual life, I and try and see the dharma in everything. And I am surrounded by kind teachers! My elderly cat Alaska, once so robust and active now so skinny and subdued, reminds me each day of death and impermanence. Sasquatch, who lost his mind last month and sent me to the ER, reminds me to be patient and compassionate even with those who harm me. With Mr. Binkles, the hyperactive rabbit, I am constantly reminded to stay in the moment. With my friends and partner, I try to increase my love and decrease my attachment. And work is forever a practice in patience. The dharma is everywhere, like air. And like air, I have found it is essential to my life.

My future with the NKT is uncertain. I know too much now about its problems. And while no organization is perfect, I am disturbed by the expansionist policies that emphasize growth of the organization over the health and mental well-being of the individuals. I am disturbed by what seems to be a cover-up of the widespread sexual escapades of many of the senior teachers. I am tired of the dogma and the pressure to “gain merit” by giving ever-increasing amounts of time and money to the center.

Is the NKT a cult? I don’t know. It certainly displays some cultish qualities. Yet from my own experience, it only felt like a cult when I let down my healthy boundaries and let it take over my life. But, then again in those first nine years, because of my “faith issues”, I never fully jumped in, but rather stayed on the shore splashing about and it felt quite pleasant. There was no chance of drowning.

Where do I go from here? Explore more dharma. Read books, listen to teachings online, and try new dharma centers. And just continue to stumble along the path.

Excuse me, I need to go meditate now. Thank you for reading.

You gotta have faith? Part 5

After having confronted my teacher, a Buddhist nun, about the impact her behavior was having on her students, many of my sangha (spiritual community) thanked me for my courage and assured me I had done the right thing with the right motivation. Meanwhile, my teacher left the center for a few days to go lick her wounds at a friend’s house. It was an odd time. With her email apologizing to the sangha there was great hope that things were going to change, yet there was also some guilt that her feelings had been so hurt.

When she came back, she took some time in our next class to discuss where to go from there. She said she was happy to discuss with people individually their problems they have had with her and try to heal those relationships. Again, I was moved by her vulnerability and openness. Gosh, maybe we’re all going to be a happy family, after all.

So, with myself and Carol, the enthusiastic newly appointed Admin Director, my teacher moved forward with plans for a fund raiser and an empowerment, along with tasks of moving out of our existing residential center, finding a place for our teacher to live and new venues for teachings. There was lots and lots of work to be done over the course of three months, and now that we were all one big happy family, it’ll be a piece of cake to get it all done. Right?

I called a meeting for all interested sangha to discuss our plans for the future and what it will take for us to get there. All I wanted was an honest accounting of what people were willing to give in terms of time and effort. What I got was very different. It became a forum for almost everyone to vent their old hurts and anger towards our teacher. And while their points were indeed valid, I asked if any of them had had taken advantage of our teacher’s offer to heal that relationship. Noooooo. (In fact, I knew that some of them had even told our teacher -”gosh, I don’t know what that is all about. Everything is fine.”) The bitching gained momentum and I felt completely ambushed and left out to dry. I was seething. I had put my ass on the line for these people? Harumph!

The next three months were a complete blur. The center had taken over my life. Between class, teaching, and working on various center projects (in addition to my full time job and my relationship), my well was running dry. But, we managed to pull it all off. I breathed a huge sigh of relief when my teacher left for England for the summer. I would see her in a few weeks in England myself for Festival, where I’m sure there would be more planning and work, but for now there was some quiet.

But I was still pretty well mentally depleted. My beloved 17 year old cat then got critically ill with a major kidney infection, and as a result I canceled my trip to England. While my true friends were understanding and supportive, there were others who felt that I was sacrificing my spiritual future on a mere object of attachment. While no one said outright, “it’s just a cat”, I could hear it in their tone. I started to slide into depression.

And during this period I didn’t hear boo from my teacher. She knew how much my animals mean to me. Yet, she never bothered to drop me a line or tried to call. I knew she had access to email because when she needed something, she was able to email me. Yet, when common kindness would dictate that you drop a quick line of support, she couldn’t be bothered. What kind of spiritual path are we on where simple kindness and compassion was withheld if you didn’t go along with program?

It was a tough, tough month. My spiritual life was crumbling, and my beloved cat was dying. What I had left to give I apportioned out to work, the boyfriend and the cat, with the cat getting the biggest share. I dreaded the return of my teacher and her endless to-do list. I was hurt and I was angry. I simply couldn’t do this anymore. I just couldn’t. I decided that it was time for me to take a break from the NKT.

The rest of the disintegration of my relationship with my teacher has been well documented in this blog. And while I left behind the trappings of my spiritual life – my teacher, my association with a dharma center – what arose in its place was a discovery of that I was capable of faith.

Next up: the conclusion

You gotta have faith? Part 2

For some people faith comes quite easily. I used to have little respect for people of faith; it was for the naive, the gullible, the less educated ones. It was something I didn’t have, and it was something I didn’t miss having in my life.

Yet I had entered a Buddhist path that was filled with rituals, deities, strange incantations and gurus. While I decided on this path because I loved the teachings, and had become quite fond of my teacher, Togden, eventually I knew that I was going to have to develop some faith if I was going to take in the whole package.

Shortly after the empowerment I decided to sign on for a twice a week study course in order to immerse myself in these beautiful teachings and to improve my meditation practice. I let my mind relax around the rituals and prayers, realizing they are not magical in of themselves, but rather it was what my mind brought to them. And I liked my teacher, Togden, a lot. He was warm, funny, and compassionate, with seemingly unwavering energy. He seemed to be genuinely walking the walk.

I knew that I was supposed to see Geshe Kelsang Gyatso (Geshe-la) as my Spiritual Guide, but I couldn’t connect. He was just this little Tibetan guy who lived in England and wrote really good books about Buddhism. So, when people started gushing about Geshe-la, I always took a step back. I simply couldn’t relate to the adoring way that people spoke of him as if he were a rock star . . . or a savior. It made me very uneasy. Certainly no one person was deserving of such praise and adoration. Maybe this Buddhism stuff wasn’t for me after all. After one particular effusive discussion session with some classmates, I went home in tears believing I was never going to be capable of such faith – it was simply not in me. So, I wrote to Togden and told him I had to drop out because I was never going to get a handle on this whole faith thing. He simply responded with two questions: do you believe what you have learned from Geshe-la to be true, and are you happier now than you were before you met the teachings? Since the answer to both those questions was “yes”, he told me to stop worrying about faith, it will come eventually.

For the next nine years I soldiered on in the NKT through sangha friends coming and going, teachers coming and going, and even centers coming and going. I stayed in the study program and maintained marginal involvement in the center activities. I was steady, but I was lazy (my moniker is no lie). The dharma center was an important part of my life, but it was not going to become all of my life. I was fortunate in that I had a full-time job and a non-practitioner boyfriend so I couldn’t get completely sucked into the black hole of need (uh, merit making machine?) that is a dharma center. My faith in Geshe-la increased, but I still was never filled with that passion that some of my co-practitioners seemed to have have.

Everything seemed to be on auto-pilot in my spiritual life. That is, until about a year ago. It was Fall Festival in New York, with the opening ceremonies of the US Kadampa Temple as the crowning event. The temple and the surrounding countryside, located in upstate New York, were quite beautiful. Even though we had to queue up outside in the near freezing temperatures, everyone was quite excited and happy to be there. The excitement grew when people were finally allowed into the temple. “Ah, how auspicious!” “How wonderful!” “How fortunate we are to be here on this wonderful, auspicious day!” My mind, however, started growing dark. When Geshe-la spoke I couldn’t understand a word he said – it was as if he were speaking a different language. His words and presence simply did not connect with me. My aversion towards everyone in the room was growing stronger by the moment. I hated those damn bliss bunnies. The puja did not sooth me, but only increased my irritation.

When it was all over, I fled from the temple desperately needing to get away from everyone, and mostly from the darkness of my own mind. When I ran into my good friend, John, I burst out in tears. He quickly ran off to find his good friend, a very senior and revered monk, whom I shall call Monk-la. By this time the sun was setting the and the temperature was now probably somewhere in the 20s. I was sitting forlornly on a wall when Monk-la cozied up to me. “Couldn’t you have your crisis of faith somewhere warmer?” It felt good to laugh. I told him about how my mind had gone dark and it felt like any faith I had developed had completely disappeared. He paused. “Huh. Well, it sounds like something shifted . . . don’t pay too much attention to it.” With that another monk approached and offered Monk-la a dharma book wrapped in one of those white offering scarf things. He graciously accepted it. He peeked at the contents and then bonked me over the head with it several times and then gifted me the book. “OK. Let’s get some chocolate, shall we?” And with that, the crisis was over.

I was grateful for Monk-la’s advice. Something had shifted and now I just needed to see where this would lead me. More about that in the next post.

You gotta have faith? Part 1

I’ve been thinking a lot about faith these last few days. Maybe it is reading about the struggles of some former NKT-ers in the New Kadampa Survivors forum, or perhaps it is coming from my reading of other teachers other than Geshe-la.

Something Pema Chodron wrote in “Comfortable with Uncertainty” hit me hard:

“We sometimes think that Buddhist teachings are something outside of ourselves – something to believe in, something to measure up to. However, dharma isn’t belief; it isn’t dogma. It is total appreciation of impermanence and change. The teachings disintegrate when we try to grasp them. We have to experience them without hope . . . The message is fearless; dharma was never meant to be a belief we blindly follow. Dharma gives us nothing to hold onto at all.“

So, as a Buddhist, what is it that we have faith in?

What initially drew me to Buddhism was its logic. It made total sense to me – no leaps of faith required. In fact Buddha taught that we are not to believe simply because he was the Buddha, but only once we understand to be true for ourselves. I also resonated with the belief that we are ultimately responsible for what happens to us and our own enlightenment. There was no big guy in the sky who would save us. I always felt that to be nonsense, and it was refreshing to know that I could still have spiritual path without believing in any God. I felt that I had finally found a spiritual path that I could completely embrace.

I was quite happy attending weekly our local NKT General Program classes. They were led by a gentle monk who demonstrated a sense of serenity that I aspired to myself. The classes included meditation and a talk on a topic . Being rather shy, I didn’t stay for tea and chatting after class. I just came in, got my fix, and quickly left.

After a few months, the teacher told us about this wonderful event coming up – a Vajrasattva empowerment. I really had no idea what an empowerment was, nor who Vajrasattva was, but I figured this was the next step, so I signed up.

The empowerment started early on a Saturday morning. I was a little nervous as I didn’t know anyone there, except for the slightest personal acquaintance with my teacher. From the moment I got there, I knew this was going to be different than the classes to which I had become accustomed. Maybe 60-75 people were milling about outside in silence. Someone whispered to me that we would be queuing up to enter the hall, and when they pour the saffron water in my hand to take three sips to purify body, speech and mind, then rub the remaining water on my head and maintain silence when I sat down.

When I entered I was somewhat surprised to see a monk already seated in the front. He was muttering something to himself accompanied by elaborate hand motions. My mind started to tighten: oh shit, this is starting to look like a religious ceremony. I looked at the booklet that had been on the chair – it was the words to the chanted prayers. Oh shit shit and double shit. What had I gotten myself into?

I don’t remember much of the ceremony, except how Catholic it felt when we were lined up in front of the presiding monk, kneeled before him, and were bonked on the head with this funny little marzipan figure while he muttered something in Sanskrit, or Tibetan. It could have been Latin for as far I knew. I just wanted to get the hell out of there.

After the ceremony everyone was blissfully happy and quite friendly to me. But, I fled with tears in my eyes. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. I felt confused and more than a little duped. My beautiful Buddhism was a religion after all!

On my way home was the City of Cemeteries, Colma. I’ve always been a big fan of older cemeteries as I find them incredibly peaceful and soothing. So, I decided to pick one of the cemeteries and go for a little stroll. It’s hard to say what happened there. I only remember being struck by the thought “this is where we all end up. It doesn’t matter what we believe in the interim, this is where we all end up. So, what if this Buddhism might be an actual religion, and not merely a philosophy? What is so wrong with believing in something?”

And so I headed back to the retreat center to catch the afternoon commentary to the empowerment. And for the next ten years the New Kadampa Tradition was the center of my spiritual life. I’ve never stopped struggling with faith, no more so than the last year. But that is for another post.

Hope springs momentarily

I’ve been feeling hopeful the last couple of days.  Pleasant change from some of the sadness and confusion I had been experiencing in the last month or so.

There had been a bad taste left in my mouth from the poor treatment I had received by both my employer and some senior members of my spiritual community.  I honestly was not expecting apologies from anyone, and thought that I had accepted and moved on. So, I was taken by surprise at how verklempt I got when I actually did get those apologies.   Granted, they did not come from the people who had been disrespectful, but rather their proxies.  But, I so appreciated the kindness that came in the form of a simple “I’m sorry you had to go through that. You didn’t deserve to be treated like that.”  Silly, isn’t it?

On Saturday there was a farewell get together for my former teacher.  It was odd.  We merely greeted each other when I arrived and then said good bye when I left.  I thought there might be some acknowledgement of everything we had been through together, but it was a simple “good bye”, no more emotional than saying good by to a pleasant stranger who you had just met at a party.  I view her behavior as somewhat pathological – she has an inability to be close to people in a genuine, heartfelt way.  Yet, by treating me as just a pleasant stranger, could she be demonstrating some equanimity, free from attachment or aversion?  We never truly know what is going on in another’s heart, so I shan’t judge her.  She’s been judged enough.  I hope she finds some peace, and that she finds that happiness can only come when we crack open our heart, exposing all the soft vulnerable bits.  As a teacher, she was able to bring the dharma to life when she was on the throne teaching.  Yet, off the throne, her actions felt contradictory, and she hid behind this false cloak of the infallibility of the teacher.  Dharma is how we live our daily lives, not just the words we speak when we’re in a “spiritual” setting.  And our teachers of all people need to demonstrate that.  People aren’t stupid.  If you aren’t walking the walk, despite how well you talk, people know.

At the same party, I met the new teacher for the main center.  Lovely woman.  Down to earth.  Very approachable and not at all intimidating.  I was able to tell her where I was at, my doubts re: the NKT, and what I felt I needed to be doing now.  She understood.  She simply said that when I was ready to start teaching again to let her know.  No pressure.  No guilt.  I felt accepted right where I was at.

The next night I went to one of her teachings, and my initial good opinion of her was further validated.  I felt inspired.  I feel like the path I’m on – one of uncertainty, curiousity – is the right thing for me to be doing now.   Maybe I’m still coming down from my old teacher and studying Shantideva (who definitely was one hard core Boddhisattva dude), but I’m feeling the need for a  gentler, more organic touch in terms of my dharma practice.  Yet with this new teacher in place, I feel like I can stay on the fringes and be completely OK to take what I like from the NKT and not get involved in those things that disturb my mind.  

Too much drama

Ever since the mystery of the expired Visa hit on Thursday, my phone has been ringing off the hook.  Mostly people are just really shocked, and harbouring suspicions it wasn’t accidental as well as wondering what will happen next.  Last night a friend of mine called and added a new twist to the conversation – a sense of outrage that I wasn’t asked to take over my former teacher’s main class.  Huh?

I mean, a few months ago I probably would have expected this also.  After all, I’ve taught her class about 50% of the time during the last 5 or so months.  I have the most experience and, so I’ve been told, a good teacher to boot.  And it would provide continuity for the class since they already know me.  But, I wasn’t.  And I’m entirely OK with that.

One of the eight worldly concerns is worrying about our reputation.  It’s a big one for me.  It’s one thing to anoint oneself an outsider. It’s quite another to know that you are also viewed that ways by others.   It stings a little.  But, it hadn’t occurred to me that this was a slam on my reputation until my friend implied I should outraged.  But, I think I’ll pass on dwelling on this.  Life is too short.

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This week is not starting out auspiciously.  On my way into work this morning, I got a ticket that  I totally deserved.  The CHP officer was quite pleasant and it was over with a minimum of fuss and drama 

When I walked into the office I was  immediately pulled into a big mystery meeting. The mood was somber.   When everyone had gathered my manager announced “There is a staff reduction today (long pause).  If you are here in this room, you are not affected.  Everyone looked around to see who was missing.  There were some friends who were not there.   While we may still have jobs, it doesn’t mean that we weren’t affected.

So, today I say good-by to two people with whom I’ve worked for about six years.   Fortunately, unlike some of the other who were laid off, they are probably going to be OK financially, and they seem to be at peace with this.  I’m worried about some of the others and their abilities to find another job either due to their health, age or skill set. 

It was weird to watch one of my friends walk out the door for the last time.  And while there are always platitudes about staying in touch, getting together for lunch, etc.  the odds are I will never see her again.  It’s a lesson in impermanence – someone I saw five days a week for six years, in a moment, steps out of my life forever.

There’s a big conference call this afternoon with the big wigs who will explain to us why they made the decisions they did.  I don’t think it is going to make anyone feel any better. These were our friends, our colleagues, and they are being treated as if they were doing something wrong.  There is something so cold about being told to immediately pack up your belongings and be out of the building by mid-afternoon.  Some of these people have a whole life’s career stuffed into their office and to have only a few hours to pack and say good-by seems unnecessarily cruel.

Pain and suffering

This week’s lesson, my friends, is about physical pain. First there was the dental issue of last week, which resulted in a 2 1/2 hour root canal, and after a day’s respite, the bunny started acting up, and has bitten me hard at least once a day since.

My Buddhist practice has been very helpful for me in managing mental pain. I can see clearly that this pain is arising from my mind, and I can choose to dwell on it, or apply Buddha’s teachings and work my way through it. It still hurts, but at least I can recognize the source and can find ways to work with it. Physical pain, however, is a bit more challenging for me.

The opponent to anger and frustration is patient acceptance. We accept what is happening to us, not push it away, not blame. We simply accept. Then we have some choices of how we can deal with whatever is happening. That can work also with physical pain, if we’re mindful enough. When I was having waves of severe dental pain, I tried to keep in mind that the pain will pass eventually, and tried to stay calm. It still hurt like hell, but I wasn’t panicked. However, when that same pain woke me up in the middle of the night when my mindfulness wasn’t there – oh lordy. I scared the crap out of the boyfriend as I shook and sobbed in pain, upset that I couldn’t even get down a few bites of bread to cushion the pain meds. At that time, in my groggy, non-alert state of mind, all my years of practice were completely powerless against the intensity of pain.

I’m likewise starting to feel powerless in my battle with Mr. Binkles. I have had saint-like patience with all sorts of bad animal behavior. It would never occur to me to give up an animal because of a physical or behavior problem. It is starting to occur to me now. Mr. Binkles has taken to biting me. Hard. Often. It is at the point I am frightened to be in the same room as he is.

Yet, I know he’s not an evil bunny. In his deluded little bunny mind, he’s making complete sense. However, in wanting to protect my body from physical pain, all I see is a psychotic pair of killer teeth attached to an insanely cute wittle bunny body. I have found myself screaming at this little creature after he clamps into my flesh. Screaming. I feel quite out of control. So, for his protection and mine, he’s locked up in the sun room, even though I know he must be frustrated as he seems to like to hang with me.

This morning I’m taking him in to get neutered, in hopes that will help with the aggression and territoriality (I believe he has staked out my couch, hence the attacks whenever I want to sit on my own damn couch).

I know a Bodhisattva can endure physical pain and not suffer. In fact, would welcome physical pain if it were to help another living being. Mr. Binkles is showing me quite clearly how far I am from being a Bodhisattva. Thank you Mr. Binkles (but you are still getting your balls cut off today).

Stealing or rescuing?

When I told a dharma friend of mine that the bunny had returned and that I planned on keeping it, she paused. For a long time.  Finally, she asked how did I feel about stealing someones rabbit.  After all, I know where the bunny came from, why didn’t I contact the bunny’s owners?

Hmmmm.  Is it stealing?  I mean, it’s not like I went into their backyard and nabbed the bunny.  The bunny had been running free for three days.  There are no “Lost Rabbit” signs in the neighborhood.  They have not contacted me or my Spanish speaking neighbor to ask if we’ve seen the bunny.  If they had done that, I would give them back the bunny.  But, it appears they don’t care and have relinquished guardianship.  So, if they are not going to take care of the bunny, I will.

When I check my motivation, it is virtuous – I want to help this little creature and give him a good, safe home.  My motivation was not malicious.  Yet, when I check my heart I do detect a definite lack of compassion towards the people who lost him.   I can’t relate to people who don’t take care of their animals.  In addition to letting the bunny escape or run loose, they have a dog that barks all night.

I know that different cultures have different relationships with pets.  My pets have better lives than many people in this country – they have quality food, a safe place to live, medical care and lots of love.  I don’t think I am over the top when it comes to the care I give to my pets – yet some may think I am, especially if they have financial challenges getting the above needs met for themselves.  So, should no one be allowed to own pets unless they live up to my standards of pet care?

The bunny is staying with me.  Should they show some signs that they are looking for the bunny (but it’s been at least 4 days since he’s gone missing), I’ll reevaluate.  And I’ll also take my friend’s advice to try and generate some love and compassion for the people who owned him.  The hardness I feel in my heart is not good.  I need to avoid having aversion for them, and developing too much attachment for the little bun bun.  I think I need to spend some time meditating on equanimity.

The person formerly known as “my Teacher”

I’m not sure how to refer to her anymore this woman I used to call my Teacher. As a Buddhist having a teacher is supremely important – to have a relationship with someone who carries the lineage, someone who is further along the path than I am, someone who I can count on to help me when I am confused or lose my way. And for the first time in over a decade, I don’t have that. Perhaps I can think of her now as a friend? No. That is at the core of the break in the relationship.

This weekend I went to the powa for my friend’s cat, Scout. The person formerly known as my Teacher was there. It felt awkward. We hadn’t seen each other for about a month. In my mind, there was only a chain link fence between us – we could talk, see each other, and even lightly touch if so desired, but there was a protective separation. However, it felt to me that she sees this separation as if we are on either side of a wide, churning river – we can see each other from a distance, but can barely hear, and definitely not touch as the gulf  between us is too wide and dangerous to cross.

To see her behave so distantly towards me hurt. But, I made an effort to be pleasant, and to inquire about her welfare. I felt the chill thaw a bit. Yet when I left I was neither offered a hug, nor did I initiate.

According to mutual friends, she is feeling abandoned, even betrayed by me. Yet, I’m not moved. In fact I bristle at the suggestion that this is my fault. In an attempt to salvage our relationship about a month ago, I opened up a vein and explained to her (via email) how hurt and abandoned by her I felt over the summer. She was not moved. Her stance was defensive and displayed very little human emotion. It was at that point the heart connection was completely broken.

That old relationship is over, and there is no need to rehash it with her. I’ve accepted that she is not/can not/will not be the Teacher I need. But, I’m still involved with what remains of the center. So, now I have to build a new relationship – cordial, professional with neither aversion nor attachment.