I am not a Buddhist. Unless, of course, you accept the notion that suggests we are all Buddhas. I don’t practice meditation – at least not in the traditional sense. I don’t put in the hard work of Zen stillness. I’ve never gone to a retreat. I don’t even do yoga. All of that said, I occasionally read about Buddhism and Zen. Whether I intend them to or not, the concepts influence my thinking and my behavior. I’m attracted to it because it often preaches being in the moment and paying attention. I’m attracted to it because we live in a very busy world which can sometimes be harsh, and I believe bringing greater peace within tends to radiate outwards. I’m attracted to it because I think conflict is about not understanding the other and often starts with the self – Buddhism is a practice based on kindness and understanding.
My interest in Buddhism began in high school in Mr. Gundy’s philosophy class. We spent a fair amount of time on the philosophy of religion. We watched Jesus Christ Superstar. We talked about Nietzsche. We examined the basic tenants of the major religions. I remember being struck by the similarities in almost all of the religions. I remember grasping on to the idea that good and evil are interdependent – they provide context for each other. I remember thinking, this “middle way” approach makes a lot of sense. I took a few other philosophy courses in college, including another one on religion, which is probably when I started to think of Buddhism as a way of thinking as opposed to being a religious belief.
A few years ago, during a difficult time in my life in which I was really grasping and trying to hold on, the therapist I was seeing suggested just sitting with it. Don’t hope for any particular outcome, just be. She suggested I read “Be the Person You Want to Find” which is about self-reflection, understanding how we project on to others, and building in ourselves the things we seek in others. This is a very Buddhist way of being. I read the book… twice. I took a lot of it to heart, and I also argued with it. Ultimately, it renewed my interest in Buddhism as a way – neither forward nor backward, but as a way.
In My Daily Thinking
The other morning, like all mornings, I walked the dog. He stops to sniff a lot. Sometimes he pees where he sniffs – his version of checking and responding to his emails (pee-mail). Sometimes, after he pees, he tries to scratch the ground to cover up his scent – a process that, to me, makes no sense if the point is to mark his territory. I usually try to stop him from digging up the ground… mostly because it doesn’t seem very neighborly to let my dog tear up someone else’s yard. This moment is often when Zen thinking infiltrates. Why can’t I let him be? He’s doing what comes natural to him, and there I am giving a quick tug on the leash with a half-hearted “no.” Moments later, as I’m contemplating the possibility that both the dog and I would be happier if I let him do dog things, the circular thinking sets in. What if my nature, human nature, is to control things? By not correcting his behavior, aren’t I going against my nature to be a responsible and decent neighbor? What if our nature is to manipulate the world around us? It’s what we’ve done our entire existence.
Buddhism talks a lot about being unattached… giving up control. I think about this a lot with the dog and almost any time I think about past or potential future relationships. How do we not hold on to the things we want? Buddhism, to some degree, preaches that everything is just as it is. You can’t be late because you are always exactly where you should be. This type of thinking can be maddening. It gets even worse if I consider that maybe our nature is to also be at odds with ourselves – there’s a logical break somewhere that after a few minutes short circuits my brain. Fortunately, Buddhism has an entirely and satisfyingly unsatisfactory answer to this: nonduality. It is my nature to control and my nature to give up control. I am capable of both. These are our multitudes.
Earlier this week I finished the book I had been reading, The Accidental Buddhist. I ordered another one, Being Peace by Thich Nhat Hanh. I’ve read some of Thich Nhat Hanh’s other books. I’ve quoted him on this blog. Being Peace is supposed to be his foundational work. In addition to the reading, I’m also considering practicing meditation again. After which, I’ll shave my head and the transformation will be complete. I’m kidding, of course… at least about the shaved head part, but I do like how reading about these concepts makes me pause and think a little differently. It’s not only on dog walks that I sometimes notice this change in my thinking. Anytime, I find myself rushing to judgment, or thinking overly-critical thoughts, or experiencing petty frustrations, I quickly hear this slight tsk tsk of a correction. I might be outside cursing the weather (which I do a lot when it’s windy with a real feel of six degrees) and I hear this voice that says, what good does it do to curse the weather? And of course, it doesn’t do any good. It won’t change it. It doesn’t make me any warmer. Would I be better off embracing the stinging slap in the face of the cold wind? “Thank you, sir, may I have another?” Can one find a type of happiness or peace in what sometimes feels like inhospitable and uninhabitable conditions?
Knee-deep in this way of thinking (at least for the past two or three days), I’ve been noticing just how often I mutter (usually only in my head) things like “are you fucking kidding me?” The wandering robot in the grocery store blocks the aisle and starts spinning around going nowhere… “AYFKM?” The dog decides to poop as a car drives a little too close to us for my comfort… “AYFKM?” I go to pick up my keys, drop them, pick them up again, my bag slides off my shoulder, I drop the keys again, and the dog comes up to sniff my face… “AYFKM?” For breakfast, I go to cut up some strawberries that I bought a few days ago and they have beards… “AYFKM?” I walk out of the house and in that instant a subzero gust of wind blows powdery snow off the roof and in my face… “AYFKM?” Someone cuts me off so they can turn in to Chick-Fil-A… “AYFKM?” It seems that when I’m out in the world, I say this a lot. And I don’t know if I say it more often than I used to, or if I’m just noticing it because I’m trying to be more mindful of how I move through the world… It makes me feel like I’m a pretty bad at this whole accept the world as it is thing. It’s made me realize just how many times in the course of a normal day I feel “put upon” by outside forces. I could see a potential benefit in short-circuiting this type of thinking…
And so I’ve been trying to be more mindful. I’ve been trying to catch myself when I’m not appreciating the moment. I’ve been trying to be more at peace – not because I feel this terrible sense of turmoil but because I think we could all use more peace. So long as I don’t try too hard, because, well… striving to change my way of thinking, striving for greater peace, is also a form of attachment to something other than what currently is.