Love Letter to a Sangha

Dear Sangha,

Couldn't sleep this morning. I woke at something like 3:40 am. Sometimes I can read myself back to sleep, so I grabbed a copy of the Shambala Sun that was sitting near my bed.

I can't tell you the mental path that got me to this place, but I decided that chanting the three refuges would be a nice way to finish lulling myself to sleep. This chant (which is the only chant I know in Pali because it's ridiculously easy) essentially says that I take refuge in the Buddha, the Dharma and the Sangha. What this means for me is that I can rest myself in the recognition of the existence of the Buddha, the wisdom he enumerates, and the community of others.

Different times have yielded different reactions to the recognition of these refuges. As with any nugget of wisdom, where I am and what I am in process with informs the insights that result from its examination.

I want you to know that you, sangha, were the thing that drew my attention. I was thinking about what a basket case I've been with you for the last few months and I've been feeling kind of bad about it. When I needed to work out some serious crap, I spread it all over your Rohatsu sesshin, making you all look for the "benefits" and "gifts" in my fidgety, emotionally volatile disruptiveness. When I started my constitutional homeopathic remedy, you got the day where my ability to govern my focus and communication abilities went so far off base that I felt like I had ADD, interrupting and acting distracted when you tried to tell me of your pain or your personal journey.

I want you to know that it's a compliment to you. It is, as it turns out, your own fault. You created a good, strong container that I was able to use as the crucible to burn away my most recent layers of pain. You made a place where I felt safe, allowing me to blow through some less than attractive processes.

I'm afraid that you may be stuck with me for a while. The best way I can think of to thank you is by helping to maintain that container for others, giving back as good as I got. Thanks for the refuge.

Never did get back to sleep.

Who is Number 1?

I was listening to a program today about memory. One of the topics was a woman who has unusual memory skills in that she can remember in deep detail any event that was of interest to her. This could be her 13th birthday, or the day a foreign leader was assassinated. Everything from exact date and times, to conversations, feelings and incidental details was completely accessible to her. She still needs to take notes at meetings, write out grocery lists, and keep a calendar. It is only the times surrounding these incidents (and they apparently are legion) of which she has perfect recall.

One of the researchers discussing her said that she is "both the warden and the prisoner of her memories". By this, he means that she has the gift of being able to recall in rich detail her fondest moments, but she is unable to forget any incident that might have marred them. Unlike most of us, she cannot leave out the unpleasant parts and forget any associated slights.

This made me think that we all can be seen to be both the keeper and the captive of our memory. Memory is (evolutionarily) designed to be about the future, not the past. We have memory so that we can remember where the berry bushes are, and which water hole has bad water. It reminds us that fire is hot and that there is often a speed trap at that stretch of road a few blocks up. Memories exist to provide the benefit of learning to provide a pool of knowledge regarding outside forces and, as importantly, the consequences of our own behavior.

The bonus feature is that we can reminisce - think back on past pleasant experiences in order to relive the positive feelings that they invoked. The curse of memory is that along with the ability to reminisce, it can trap us in our past. I have seen people use "memory" as a handy catch-all for their personal issues. Unlike the woman in the memory study, most of us have imperfect memories that allow us to edit them in ways that support our present assumptions or behaviors.

Even if our memory of an event is relatively unsullied, how much do we look to them for excuses for our own behavior. Felt insulted or ignored by someone? Still holding on to that? I deeply hope and pray that the many times I have spoken thoughtlessly or behaved in a scattered or disrespectful manner are not being carefully catalogued and recalled.

The questions to ask are, "Is it a lesson to learn from or a grudge to carry? Is this genuinely serving me now and in my future? " If not, it's your keeper not your ward.

Roast Beef, Bruce Lee and More

Yeah. I know. I've been gone; really, really gone for a long time. It's something that when I started this blog I SWORE I wouldn't do.

Well I'm back now.

Cautionary tales:

#1
A guru at an ashram had a cat who was a welcome member of the community except that during meditation periods, the cat would pester and rub against everyone. So before each meditation session, the guru would tie the cat to a pole outside. Pretty soon, people began to believe that tying the cat to the pole was a ritual of import and significance and when the cat died, they were bereft since they could no longer continue the ritual. (Gratitude to Elizabeth Gilbert.)

#2
There is a particular martial arts style which uses distinct elbow techniques, kicks, and footwork. This technique has been passed down from teacher to student in toto as a masterful and complete system. It turns out that the original teacher of this technique had one arm that ended at the elbow and a club foot. Here were a whole group of students who were learning to fight with a missing arm and a club foot.

#2A
Universally venerated martial artist Bruce Lee was known for his high jumps and kicks. This led his admirers to perceive a qualitative difference between moving high and moving low. Lee's style was dictated by the inflexibility that resulted from a broken ankle.

#3
(Probably apocryphal, but often told) A woman always cut the ends off of her roast before putting it in the roasting pan. One day someone asked her why she did it. "Why, don't you?" she answered. Finding out she was singular in her roasting technique, she declared, "My mother always did it." So, she called her mother asked why she always cut the ends off her roasts. Mom told her that it was simply because her pan was always too small.

Think of these examples and pay attention to that which you believe to be true. What are you taking at face value? Does this set of circumstances, expectations and rules fit you?

Does it call to question how much you should trust? That everything should be questioned? That's not the lesson I'm asking you to see. I firmly believe that sometimes it's okay just to trust. Only through sacrificing yourself to trust can you delve deeply enough into an experience to see what the inherent value is. It's also where you can often find enough information to ask the hard questions, to find out where you might find some reward in moving toward adopting and where you'd be taking on someone else's concept of the ideal.