The #Buddhist Precept of Not Stealing in a Colonized World

I wrote this post a few years back, but it still resonates.

I have been spending a lot of time contemplating, and talking with others about, how commodified our lives have become. It seems like nearly "owned" by someone, in need of being bought or payed for by others. It's insidious, and deeply problematic in my opinion.

Yesterday, I was picking raspberries with two friends of mine, and I remarked about how I often travel the alleys in our city during the summer, picking berries from the various bushes behind garages and back yards. As I said this to them, I immediately thought about the way in which I feel sort of anxious doing this quite natural activity. By mid-July, most of these bushes are literally loaded with raspberries and blackberries. A single, healthy bush produces enough berries for a family to snack on for several weeks. The abundance is sometimes mind blowing.

The reality is that while most of these bushes are unattended to, and even completely forgotten to some extent, they constitute "private property." When I stop and pick even a few berries, often there is an anxiety accompanying this act. I frequently look around and wonder about being perceived as stealing, never mind that the bulk of the berries end up dropping to the ground and are either eaten by animals or return to the soil untouched.

In the past, I have attempted to ask permission to harvest berries, as well as a few apples from the trees in a neighbor's yard (most of which, again, fall to the ground untouched). These requests for a small bit of sharing have tended to be met with puzzlement. Who is this guy and why should I give him my fruit?

As a Buddhist, I have vowed to uphold the precept of not stealing. But in a society so colonized and commodified, to the point where even some simple counseling to support mental health has been turned into a product for sale, what is stealing?

How can the man I spoke to about those apple trees, who does next to nothing to aid the growth of the trees, and lets the lion's share of the produce go to waste, claim ownership over them? Frankly, how can anyone claim ownership over the life of a tree or a berry bush?

I can rarely afford to purchase organic fruit, especially berries. They are outrageously expensive, even in conventional, big box supermarkets. In fact, even much of the fruit that is covered in pesticides is expensive and to some degree out of reach for poor and low income folks.

However, even in many urban areas, there are an abundance of fruit trees - especially in middle and upper class neighborhoods. While poor folks struggle to pay for a small bag of pesticide-ridden oranges that were picked weeks ago in someplace far off, middle and upper class folks not only can afford to purchase the organic fruit in the stores, but also often have fresh fruit right in their backyards for part of the summer at least.

I am fortunate to have a garden behind my mother's place, where I have slowly planted a few berry bushes, including a raspberry bush that's beginning to produce fruit. Furthermore, some of my friends and are are starting to do neighborhood networking around planting community fruit trees and bushes, as well as cultivating the idea of fruit sharing from plants in private yards and gardens. All of this is in the beginning stages, and hasn't produced much "fruit" yet, but I do believe it will in the future.

And yet, I keep going back to this issue of stealing and not stealing. Something as natural a human activity as picking berries is probably considered theft by a large percentage of people in this country - and many others no doubt. It strikes me as a form of insanity, controlling access to something so basic. And I'm convinced that we will more collectively be faced with the deeper implications of this as things like water privatization impact wide swaths of the population - people used to having easy access to something which is of life and death importance.

Recently, I read a declaration written by indigenous peoples in response to the Rio+20 summit held in Brazil last week. It's a powerful document, one I find myself aligned with in so many ways. For those of us living in post-industrial nations like the U.S., it's a deep indictment of much of what we consider "normal." Odds are, a lot of American readers will simply dismiss it as utopian fluff, or "unrealistic." I can imagine plenty will find it an affront worthy of outrage. How dare these people blame me for their problems, and for the destruction of the Earth? Can't they see that we have some great solutions to the climate crisis?

Here is a selection from the document that demonstrates both the tenacity and also, in my opinion, the optimism of these people - whom I consider brothers and sisters:

We will continue to unite as Indigenous Peoples and build a strong solidarity and partnership among ourselves, local communities and non-indigenous genuine advocates of our issues. This solidarity will advance the global campaign for Indigenous Peoples rights to land, life and resources and in the achievement of our self-determination and liberation.

We will continue to challenge and resist colonialist and capitalist development models that promote the domination of nature, incessant economic growth, limitless profit-seeking resource extraction, unsustainable consumption and production and the unregulated commodities and financial markets. Humans are an integral part of the natural world and all human rights, including Indigenous Peoples’ rights, which must be respected and observed by development.

We invite all of civil society to protect and promote our rights and worldviews and respect natural law, our spiritualities and cultures and our values of reciprocity, harmony with nature, solidarity, and collectivity. Caring and sharing, among other values, are crucial in bringing about a more just, equitable and sustainable world. In this context, we call for the inclusion of culture as the fourth pillar of sustainable development.

I don't know what it's going to take to right the climate ship. It's a gigantic question that we all much sit with everyday. But I do know that something seems deeply flawed about the idea that picking berries, or apples, constitutes theft. Perhaps in a very narrow, literal way it is the case. But there is something life denying about that kind of view.

No one owns the berries, nor the bushes they grow on. Just ask the birds and animals that go snacking on them when you're not looking.

*Photo is of the golden raspberry bush in my garden.

The Buddhist Precept of Not Stealing in a Colonized World

*Note: An earlier version of this post was originally published on DH in the summer of 2012.

I have been spending a lot of time contemplating, and talking with others about, how commodified our lives have become. It seems like nearly "owned" by someone, in need of being bought or payed for by others. It's insidious, and deeply problematic in my opinion.

Yesterday, I was picking raspberries with two friends of mine, and I remarked about how I often travel the alleys in our city during the summer, picking berries from the various bushes behind garages and back yards. As I said this to them, I immediately thought about the way in which I feel sort of anxious doing this quite natural activity. By mid-July, most of these bushes are literally loaded with raspberries and blackberries. A single, healthy bush produces enough berries for a family to snack on for several weeks. The abundance is sometimes mind blowing.

The reality is that while most of these bushes are unattended to, and even completely forgotten to some extent, they constitute "private property." When I stop and pick even a few berries, often there is an anxiety accompanying this act. I frequently look around and wonder about being perceived as stealing, never mind that the bulk of the berries end up dropping to the ground and are either eaten by animals or return to the soil untouched.

In the past, I have attempted to ask permission to harvest berries, as well as a few apples from the trees in a neighbor's yard (most of which, again, fall to the ground untouched). These requests for a small bit of sharing have tended to be met with puzzlement. Who is this guy and why should I give him my fruit?

So, for the most part, I don't ask anymore. If I come upon a berry bush or tree in an alley or on the edge of a yard, I stop and grab a handful of berries or an apple.

As a Buddhist, I have vowed to uphold the precept of not stealing. But in a society so colonized and commodified, to the point where even some simple counseling to support mental health has been turned into a product for sale, what is stealing?

How can the man I spoke to about those apple trees, who does next to nothing to aid the growth of the trees, and lets the lion's share of the produce go to waste, claim ownership over them? Frankly, how can anyone claim ownership over the life of a tree or a berry bush?

I can rarely afford to purchase organic fruit, especially berries. They are outrageously expensive, even in conventional, big box supermarkets. In fact, even much of the fruit that is covered in pesticides is expensive and to some degree out of reach for poor and low income folks.

However, even in many urban areas, there are an abundance of fruit trees - especially in middle and upper class neighborhoods. While poor folks struggle to pay for a small bag of pesticide-ridden oranges that were picked weeks ago in someplace far off, middle and upper class folks not only can afford to purchase the organic fruit in the stores, but also often have fresh fruit right in their backyards for part of the summer at least.

I am fortunate to have a garden behind my mother's place, where I have slowly planted a few berry bushes, including a raspberry bush that's beginning to produce fruit. Furthermore, some of my friends and are are starting to do neighborhood networking around planting community fruit trees and bushes, as well as cultivating the idea of fruit sharing from plants in private yards and gardens. All of this is in the beginning stages, and hasn't produced much "fruit" yet, but I do believe it will in the future.

And yet, I keep going back to this issue of stealing and not stealing. Something as natural a human activity as picking berries is probably considered theft by a large percentage of people in this country - and many others no doubt. It strikes me as a form of insanity, controlling access to something so basic. And I'm convinced that we will more collectively be faced with the deeper implications of this as things like water privatization impact wide swaths of the population - people used to having easy access to something which is of life and death importance.

Recently, I read a declaration written by indigenous peoples in response to the Rio+20 summit held in Brazil last week. It's a powerful document, one I find myself aligned with in so many ways. For those of us living in post-industrial nations like the U.S., it's a deep indictment of much of what we consider "normal." Odds are, a lot of American readers will simply dismiss it as utopian fluff, or "unrealistic." I can imagine plenty will find it an affront worthy of outrage. How dare these people blame me for their problems, and for the destruction of the Earth? Can't they see that we have some great solutions to the climate crisis?

Here is a selection from the document that demonstrates both the tenacity and also, in my opinion, the optimism of these people - whom I consider brothers and sisters:

We will continue to unite as Indigenous Peoples and build a strong solidarity and partnership among ourselves, local communities and non-indigenous genuine advocates of our issues. This solidarity will advance the global campaign for Indigenous Peoples rights to land, life and resources and in the achievement of our self-determination and liberation.

We will continue to challenge and resist colonialist and capitalist development models that promote the domination of nature, incessant economic growth, limitless profit-seeking resource extraction, unsustainable consumption and production and the unregulated commodities and financial markets. Humans are an integral part of the natural world and all human rights, including Indigenous Peoples’ rights, which must be respected and observed by development.

We invite all of civil society to protect and promote our rights and worldviews and respect natural law, our spiritualities and cultures and our values of reciprocity, harmony with nature, solidarity, and collectivity. Caring and sharing, among other values, are crucial in bringing about a more just, equitable and sustainable world. In this context, we call for the inclusion of culture as the fourth pillar of sustainable development.

I don't know what it's going to take to right the climate ship. It's a gigantic question that we all much sit with everyday. But I do know that something seems deeply flawed about the idea that picking berries, or apples, constitutes theft. Perhaps in a very narrow, literal way it is the case. But there is something life denying about that kind of view.

No one owns the berries, nor the bushes they grow on. Just ask the birds and animals that go snacking on them when you're not looking.

We need to cultivate a new relationship with the land. One that isn't built on separation, commodification, control and ultimately, destruction.

Sex, Consent, and Buddhist Right Action

With the verdict in the Steubenville case has come a lot of discussion about rape and sexism, and the state of culture in our supposed "post-feminist" America. I say supposed because like those who speak of a post-racial America, folks who say frameworks like feminism have outlasted their use are either woefully unaware or deliberately trying to reverse the gains made during the second half of the 20th century. At the same time, every framework or set of frameworks has its limits. Which is why I'd like to take up this interesting post from the IDProject blog on Right Action and consent.

Caroline Contillo, the author of the post, argues that Buddhist teachings around sexuality point towards the creation of a culture of consent. The term "enthusiastic consent" was hot stuff back in my college days (mid-1990s) and has returned to the forefront in recent years to address a diverse range of sex scandals, including Steubenville. While I agree with the principle behind enthusiastic consent, it's always felt a bit too black and white of a response to what is decidedly a not black and white world. People consent to sexual contact, as well as many other forms of action, in a wide variety of ways. In addition, people make rejections in a wide variety of ways, which is why the focus on verbal rejections in rape and assault cases is problematic at best, if not a great way to privilege the rights of the accused over the rights of accusers.

There's a lot more I could say about the intricacies of consent, but what I want to dig into goes beyond that. Here's a selection from Contillo's post:

The emphasis in all three aspects of Right Action is consent. The need for another sentient being to agree with your intentions and provide you with an emphatic agreement. To take a life, to take possessions, or to force sex upon another human being against their will is unwise and "wrong" because it is selfish and creates suffering for all parties. Right Action is about using our intention and mindfulness to encourage a culture of consent.

Now, these aspects of Right Action have been framed as things one must abstain from doing. But what if we reversed that and created things that a Buddhist *must* do?

We must encourage life and health (perhaps by learning permaculture, perhaps by taking an interest in health-care reform), we must participate in selflessness, and we must seek an emphatic and freely-given "yes!" in all sexual situations.

I am reminded of something Acharya Eric Spiegel said during the Refuge Vow ceremony I took part in, when discussing the precepts. One of the precepts, in the vein of Right Action, admonishes the participant to refrain from unwholesome sexual activity. Acharya Spiegel made sure to explore this concept in depth. He told us that to him, even flirting your way out of a speeding ticket could be considered a flouting of this precept. "Using your personal charisma to manipulate someone into giving you something" is how he phrased it. That has always stuck with me. If we take this advice to heart, then Buddhism really is a philosophy that puts incredible emphasis on consent.

First off, I reject the notion of "must" she offers. It doesn't reflect the dynamic functioning of Buddhist teachings that are responding to the ever changing world we live in.

But what I'm more interested in is this focus on consent she's offering. I like that she's brought it in here. I don't think I've seen Right Action framed in this way before. At the same time, there's something off about it. Because people consent to things that cause suffering all the time. Either deliberately or out of ignorance. Whatever the case, though, mere consent doesn't really shift us towards a culture of lessening suffering and moving towards liberation. It emphasizes individual freedom and autonomy, but fails to uphold our wider interdependence.

An experience from my college days comes to mind. One night, I was hanging out with a pair of friends playing games and having a few drinks. The male friend of mine had a crush on the female friend of mine, but she didn't share his feelings. In fact, she was interested in me, and that entire evening, I struggled to reconcile my interest in her with my desire to not hurt my other friend. As often happens with college students, we had our share of drinks - not too many, but enough to cloud our judgements a bit. My female friend started flirting with me, while my other friend cooked something for us all in his kitchen. It was a delicate situation to say the least. Eventually, her and I went outside for a bit. It was a warm summer evening, the moon nearly full overhead. We made out for awhile in the alley about a block from his apartment. She repeatedly gave consent, quite enthusiastically I might add, for us to have sex right there in the alley. I continued to struggle with loyalties to my male friend, but continued to consent to an escalation. That is, until we were half naked and at the point of intercourse. Perhaps it was as much about not having protection as about my concerns about our mutual friend back home cooking for all of us. I'm not interested in painting my 21 year old self in a heroic light. However, what happened next - when I told her we should get back to the apartment now - wasn't just about rescinding consent. It was really about weighing the potential consequences. The upset my male friend might have felt about us disappearing to have sex. The possibility of destroying the friendship all together. Unplanned pregnancy. STDs. (I really didn't know her sexual history.) The lists goes on. I already felt guilt about the sneaking around we had done. It didn't make any sense to keep going just because we both wanted to, and agreed to.

I suppose it's possible to argue that consent contains all the rest of the stuff I spoke about. But more often than not, I don't think it does. I certainly have consented to having sex when I probably would have been better off saying no. There seems to be an assumption by the author that when folks are consenting, they're doing so mindfully, with at least some awareness of what that might mean in terms of the Eightfold Path or the precepts. But really, how often is that the case? And how often is consent mainly driven by horniness or lonliness or some other powerful emotion?

What do you think of all this? I'm especially interested in ways folks have reconciled Buddhist teachings around sexuality in our sexually diverse, modern society. Because one of the things I enjoyed about Contillo's post is that she attempted to do just that.

Maladjusted Buddhism

I read this fascinating talk that Martin Luther King Jr. gave during the last year of his life at the American Psychological Association's annual conference. It immediately reminded me of how married convert Buddhist practitioners are to mainstream psychology, and how that isn't necessarily a good thing. This passage in particular is worth considering in more detail:

There are certain technical words in every academic discipline which soon become stereotypes and even clichés. Every academic discipline has its technical nomenclature. You who are in the field of psychology have given us a great word. It is the word maladjusted. This word is probably used more than any other word in psychology. It is a good word; certainly it is good that in dealing with what the word implies you are declaring that destructive maladjustment should be destroyed. You are saying that all must seek the well-adjusted life in order to avoid neurotic and schizophrenic personalities.

But on the other hand, I am sure that we will recognize that there are some things in our society, some things in our world, to which we should never be adjusted. There are some things concerning which we must always be maladjusted if we are to be people of good will. We must never adjust ourselves to racial discrimination and racial segregation. We must never adjust ourselves to religious bigotry. We must never adjust ourselves to economic conditions that take necessities from the many to give luxuries to the few. We must never adjust ourselves to the madness of militarism, and the self-defeating effects of physical violence.

Psychology as a discipline, "social psychologists" notwithstanding, has tended to focus on individuals and their varying levels of adjustment to mainstream norms. Pathology is basically understood as thoughts, behaviors, and patterns which do not conform to the norms, and also are significantly disruptive to the general functioning and well being of the individual displaying them. More often than not, there's an attendant sense that the pathology also is significantly disruptive in some manner or another to others, and society in general. A person with bipolar, for example, is considered difficult to work with, moody, inconsistent, and a whole variety of unsavory characteristics. Instead of being viewed as a whole person with the vastness of depth of anyone else, they're frequently reduced to a diagnosis and a certain subset of characteristics (which may or may not be enduring or consistent). It's as if in order to be viewed as "healthy" and "socially adjusted," there's a certain level of "going along" required. A certain necessity to give up, suppress, or refine behaviors and patterns that are disruptive to the norms of society. If I have the impulse or desire to run naked in the streets, it's probably a good idea for me to overcome that somehow. Lest I be viewed as "crazy" and "sexually perverse," and if caught by the authorities, subject to all sorts of social penalties (fines, jail, sex offender registration, etc.)

Religions have similar conduct codes built into them, linking the well adjusted person to some form or another of divinity. For Buddhists, the enlightened one or Bodhisattva should quickly come to mind. Of course, anyone who has been around Buddhist teachings and narratives for awhile knows that things are more complicated than that. Well adjusted really doesn't cut it when trying to describe the qualities of a Buddha. In fact, Buddhas sometimes act in ways that are completely in line with MLK's "maladjustment." They're called to disrupt, sometimes severely, patterns of suffering and oppression. That's their job in the world. And that's what we practitioners are vowing to do when we chant the bodhisattva vows, for example.

And yet, I think for many convert Buddhists, a lot of that intelligent, enlightened maladjustment has been erased or downplayed. The aspirations we claim to make frequently seem fraudulent in a certain sense. "I vow to liberate all beings, but only if it doesn't upset my neighbors, make anyone uncomfortable, or employ actions that aren't 'normal.'" The majority of convert Buddhists, in North America anyways, were born and bred middle class or higher up the economic ladder. And regardless of material status, with an allegience to middle class norms and values, including an inherent trust in the teachings and practices of psychology. It's just a given, for example, that it's wrong to steal and that anger is always a negative emotion, even if we feel justified in being angry about something.

When I consider many modern, convert interpretations of the Buddhist precepts, these middle class norms are all over the place. And they're reinforced by concepts and practices of Western Psychology, which up until fairly recently, held the behaviors and patterns of white, heterosexual, middle class males as the highest standard of adjustment. The pole by which all is measured and techniques are sourced from.

While it may appear like I'm rejecting psychology outright, that's absolutely not the case. I nearly double majored in psychology during my undergrad days, and have spent much of the decade or so I've been practicing Zen reflecting on various teachings from psychology and how they might apply to my life. And others. I have no interest in romanticizing psychological disorders, or advocating for some sort of loose, anything goes society. What I am interested in are the ways in which the meld of psychological understandings and Buddhist teachings reinforces white, middle class norms, and limits our understanding both of liberation and how that might unfold into action in the world.

We must never adjust ourselves to racial discrimination and racial segregation. We must never adjust ourselves to religious bigotry. We must never adjust ourselves to economic conditions that take necessities from the many to give luxuries to the few. We must never adjust ourselves to the madness of militarism, and the self-defeating effects of physical violence.

Let's consider the economic conditions statement. The majority of convert Buddhist sanghas have adjusted to the economic norms of global capitalism. They traffic in various forms of marketing and "selling" the dharma. They structure themselves in ways that diminish the concept of dana to monetary gifts. And they rarely, if ever, participate in opposing, advocate in favor of opposing, or even speak about opposing economic injustices, poverty, or the like. Taking any sort of deliberate stance on these issues is usually seen as "political," or not in the realm of practice. It's as if the Ox Herding pictures end at number 9, and returning to the marketplace is reduced to one's family, friends, co-workers and immediate sangha.

In my view, the very ways in which global capitalism structure society and our individual lives by default, reinforce all of these issues with convert sanghas and their practitioners. Keeping the doors open requires money, and it's easiest to just go along with what works for other non-profit, religious and spiritual organizations. Individual members need to work - usually full time - and are used to the dharma as product model of funding the organization. And speaking out or opposing economic injustice and poverty in deliberate, tangible ways can - and often does - cause a hell of lot of discomfort. It might disrupt the perceived harmony of the sangha. Furthermore, it can and sometimes does bring certain social penalities, including "negative" press and perhaps lost revenue from individuals or organizations tied to coporate interests. I think Buddhists in general throughout history have leaned towards being a more quiet presence in whatever society they're living in. And certainly, there is no end to the list of examples of ways in which Buddhist insitutions have aligned themselves with political and social power brokers who built their livelihood on the suffering and misery of others (and exploitation of the planet).

But that isn't the whole story. There are plenty of examples of sanghas and individual Buddhists - beginning with the Buddha himself on down to Thich Nhat Hanh's order during the Vietnam war era and continuing today all across the globe - of Buddhists standing in the face of injustice. Speaking out against warfare, economic injustic, and oppression. And also doing various forms of action, from intimate service to those in dire need of relief to calling out the social power brokers and the structures that support them. In other words, while our practice has a strong inward bent it by nature, active engagement in the world is not an alien concept, nor should it be.

Our head teacher at zen center likes to say that zazen is a radical practice. That sitting down and attending to what is right now instead of remaining busy and hooked by our everyday concerns runs against the grain of our society.

I agree with her. Even with the rise of secular mindfulness programs, the art of stillness and dance of not doing are still very foreign in mainstream. Underappreciated and totally devalued.

Yet, this is only one end of the radical pole in my opinion. The other end being the art and dance of engaging in social concerns fully imbued with the teachings and our practice. The active bodhisattva, as opposed to some unobtainable archetype. As I see it, one of the tasks of my generation of convert Buddhist practitioners and those that follow is to help bring alive both ends of the radical pole. To become exemplars of maladjustment in the spirit of MLK's teaching above. And part of the process will be to deeply and critically examine the ways in which white, middle class norms and particularly psychological norms have influenced our understanding of the Buddhist teachings in ways that compromise or limit them. And us.


*Hat tip to Nella Lou from Smiling Buddha Cabaret for the MLK speech.

The Absolute and Relative of Zen Scandals

I was going to stay out of the discussion about all things Zen sex scandal, but then I left a short comment on this post, which essentially supported a major point in a minor way from a recent piece by Zen teacher Brad Warner. Here's the comment I made:

Brad isn't completely off in my view. I don't think it's wise to create 100% prohibitions around this kind of thing. Because every case is different, and not every student that has sex with a teacher is a victim. There is a heavy puritanism that appears whenever American Buddhist scandals break out, something that in my opinion came from our Christian brothers historically. And so, I tend to reject absolute statements about sexuality in general, and sex with teachers in particular.

At the same time, the percentage of "ok" cases is probably very low. Most of the time, I agree that the power imbalance is enough to make such relationships problematic at best. Brad's attitude seems like the reactive opposite pole to the one I spoke of above. He's advocating for the 5% or less of cases where a prohibition isn't needed, while throwing out all the intelligent guidelines and restrictions that support maintaining uprightness. Most of the time teachers just shouldn't go there. That's a given, but I don't think it's as simple as teachers should never go there. If that were so, our precepts would simply be commandments in the Judeo-Christian sense.

And here is response I received from farmer monk, who writes the "Go Cloud, Run Water" blog:

I'm not supporting witch hunting, but if you're referring to prude nature, I prefer puritanism to patriarchy.

When Brad says in his blog:

"Joshu Sasaki has done a great service to American Buddhism. I won’t go so far as to speculate that he did it intentionally. He’s probably just an old horn dog. But whether he meant for this to happen or not, he did a great thing. He helped kill off the image of the Enlightened Master as something beyond human. He did so by leaving a legacy not just of sexual misconduct but of deep, profound insight. I like Sasaki better now than I ever did, even while I wish there had been a better way to do this. Ultimately this scandal just might help save Buddhism in America by transforming it from a cartoon stereotype into something real."

It reeks of entitlement; there are blind spots a mile wide. Like, when the hell did Brad do any American zen practice? He's never done one monastic practice period in America. Guest student stays do not qualify.His polarized response doesn't warrant an analysis. If the 95% of relationships are excusable because the the perpetrator is just a "horn dog," I disagree. This kind of bro-talk makes me sick and is testament to one's own patriarchal entitlement, even if they're not aware of how they sound.

Puritanical witch hunts resulted from superstition and paranoia; Brad Warner brags in his book that he fucked a zen student more times than Richard Baker ever did; this is what he wrote, published, and stands by.

What are the precepts in light of that? That if you're self aware, you can do what you want? His story might still make a good NY times article; The NY times didn't write this story, Brad enacted it and wrote it himself, wearing the Buddha's robe.

So do we stay open and groovy and subject 95% to abuse or do we hold lineage holders accountable and possibly stunt the 5% of these positive relationships?

I was about to leave the following in a comment over there, and then saw it's length and thought it would be better as a blog post. And perhaps useful to some readers out there.

First off, in his post, farmer monk makes an important distinction between teachers and students that Brad seems to be pretty dismissive of these days. Specifically, pointing to the power vested in such a position, and how that power calls for respect and care. What I see in Brad's focus of we are all basically the same is the absolute side of the equation. And in farmer monks rebuttal to that the relative side. They're both needed, and we can't find the truth without considering both.

Overall, I don't care much for Brad's comments on sex scandals. His current post references what happened at my sangha, and dismisses it as simply an "affair." That was only the end point. The last in a series of actions and approaches to sangha and the teachings that fostered an atmosphere built on patriarchy, authoritarianism, and favoritism. As such, I'm not given to minimizing nor trivializing the kind of damage that often comes from these situations. But I do think there's a shadow side and a streak of troubling puritanism in the numerous American responses to these scandals that must also be addressed as well.

"Like, when the hell did Brad do any American zen practice? He's never done one monastic practice period in America. Guest student stays do not qualify."

This is a grave error. Equating Zen practice with monasticism essentially condemns all of us outside the monastery. Including a fair percentage of American Zen teachers, who rarely if ever spend time in monastic settings. I recently listed to a dharma talk by Duncan Williams during which, he spoke about the incomplete history of Soto Zen that we have. We know a fair amount about the early days, Dogen and his immediate disciples. And we know a lot about the 20th century teachers and communities. But very little is said about the period between 1400-1850. In the 1700s, for example, there were either 1700 or 17000 (I can't remember which number) active Soto Zen temples in Japan. And of those, the majority did not focus on monastic training, or even place a heavy emphasis on zazen. You might see that as corrupted dharma, but I see is as diversity of practice. Certainly, some of it was probably of the "wedding and funeral" variety that's seen today in many Japanese temples. But I'm guessing that the rest was variations of what lay sanghas in America are exploring today.

Frankly, lay and monastic folks need to do a better job of respecting each other. And stop assuming superiority or inferiority. Brad's done plenty of practice. That's not the issue. Zen is filled with stories of "junior" students trumping "senior" students in all sorts of settings. Amount of practice and location of said practice doesn't = level of enlightenment or awareness.

I can disagree with 95% of what Brad says about this stuff, and yet still see that he's offering something worth considering. Specifically, that the precepts are more subtle that yes/no or right/wrong.

How can we hold that, and also hold those who abuse power or aid abuse of power accountable? Because if it's just about saying Brad's bad, or Sasaki's bad, and they must be punished - we really aren't much different from fundamentalist Christians.

*Painting by Rothko

The Buddhist Precept of Not Stealing in a Colonized World

I have been spending a lot of time contemplating, and talking with others about, how commodified our lives have become. It seems like nearly "owned" by someone, in need of being bought or payed for by others. It's insidious, and deeply problematic in my opinion.

Yesterday, I was picking raspberries with two friends of mine, and I remarked about how I often travel the alleys in our city during the summer, picking berries from the various bushes behind garages and back yards. As I said this to them, I immediately thought about the way in which I feel sort of anxious doing this quite natural activity. By mid-July, most of these bushes are literally loaded with raspberries and blackberries. A single, healthy bush produces enough berries for a family to snack on for several weeks. The abundance is sometimes mind blowing.

The reality is that while most of these bushes are unattended to, and even completely forgotten to some extent, they constitute "private property." When I stop and pick even a few berries, often there is an anxiety accompanying this act. I frequently look around and wonder about being perceived as stealing, never mind that the bulk of the berries end up dropping to the ground and are either eaten by animals or return to the soil untouched.

In the past, I have attempted to ask permission to harvest berries, as well as a few apples from the trees in a neighbor's yard (most of which, again, fall to the ground untouched). These requests for a small bit of sharing have tended to be met with puzzlement. Who is this guy and why should I give him my fruit?

As a Buddhist, I have vowed to uphold the precept of not stealing. But in a society so colonized and commodified, to the point where even some simple counseling to support mental health has been turned into a product for sale, what is stealing?

How can the man I spoke to about those apple trees, who does next to nothing to aid the growth of the trees, and lets the lion's share of the produce go to waste, claim ownership over them? Frankly, how can anyone claim ownership over the life of a tree or a berry bush?

I can rarely afford to purchase organic fruit, especially berries. They are outrageously expensive, even in conventional, big box supermarkets. In fact, even much of the fruit that is covered in pesticides is expensive and to some degree out of reach for poor and low income folks.

However, even in many urban areas, there are an abundance of fruit trees - especially in middle and upper class neighborhoods. While poor folks struggle to pay for a small bag of pesticide-ridden oranges that were picked weeks ago in someplace far off, middle and upper class folks not only can afford to purchase the organic fruit in the stores, but also often have fresh fruit right in their backyards for part of the summer at least.

I am fortunate to have a garden behind my mother's place, where I have slowly planted a few berry bushes, including a raspberry bush that's beginning to produce fruit. Furthermore, some of my friends and are are starting to do neighborhood networking around planting community fruit trees and bushes, as well as cultivating the idea of fruit sharing from plants in private yards and gardens. All of this is in the beginning stages, and hasn't produced much "fruit" yet, but I do believe it will in the future.

And yet, I keep going back to this issue of stealing and not stealing. Something as natural a human activity as picking berries is probably considered theft by a large percentage of people in this country - and many others no doubt. It strikes me as a form of insanity, controlling access to something so basic. And I'm convinced that we will more collectively be faced with the deeper implications of this as things like water privatization impact wide swaths of the population - people used to having easy access to something which is of life and death importance.

Recently, I read a declaration written by indigenous peoples in response to the Rio+20 summit held in Brazil last week. It's a powerful document, one I find myself aligned with in so many ways. For those of us living in post-industrial nations like the U.S., it's a deep indictment of much of what we consider "normal." Odds are, a lot of American readers will simply dismiss it as utopian fluff, or "unrealistic." I can imagine plenty will find it an affront worthy of outrage. How dare these people blame me for their problems, and for the destruction of the Earth? Can't they see that we have some great solutions to the climate crisis?

Here is a selection from the document that demonstrates both the tenacity and also, in my opinion, the optimism of these people - whom I consider brothers and sisters:

We will continue to unite as Indigenous Peoples and build a strong solidarity and partnership among ourselves, local communities and non-indigenous genuine advocates of our issues. This solidarity will advance the global campaign for Indigenous Peoples rights to land, life and resources and in the achievement of our self-determination and liberation.

We will continue to challenge and resist colonialist and capitalist development models that promote the domination of nature, incessant economic growth, limitless profit-seeking resource extraction, unsustainable consumption and production and the unregulated commodities and financial markets. Humans are an integral part of the natural world and all human rights, including Indigenous Peoples’ rights, which must be respected and observed by development.

We invite all of civil society to protect and promote our rights and worldviews and respect natural law, our spiritualities and cultures and our values of reciprocity, harmony with nature, solidarity, and collectivity. Caring and sharing, among other values, are crucial in bringing about a more just, equitable and sustainable world. In this context, we call for the inclusion of culture as the fourth pillar of sustainable development.

I don't know what it's going to take to right the climate ship. It's a gigantic question that we all much sit with everyday. But I do know that something seems deeply flawed about the idea that picking berries, or apples, constitutes theft. Perhaps in a very narrow, literal way it is the case. But there is something life denying about that kind of view.

No one owns the berries, nor the bushes they grow on. Just ask the birds and animals that go snacking on them when you're not looking.

*Photo is of the golden raspberry bush in my garden.

Downloading Dharma Books and Ethics

There's an excellent discussion going on over at American Buddhist Perspective about the ethics of downloading dharma books. The post centers around a site called Buddhisttorrents, which I have visited once or twice, but never really looked at closely. In fact, it's only now that I see the site has an extensive collection of dharma books available for free download. The few times I glanced at it, I thought it was a book review website.

Here's a clip from the ABP blog post:

One of the most common defenses of torrents made in the comments at Buddhisttorrents is that the people downloading books are people who could not have bought them otherwise. To the extent that this is true, torrents don't hurt authors or publishers. Another comment made many times is that the torrents actually increase sales by exposing more material to people. To the extent this is true, torrents actually help authors and publishers. I would love to see some empirical evidence for either of these.

The same goes for the music industry. In reading up a bit on the laws of music downloading, I found this:

And album sales aren't haemorrhaging in the doom-mongering way we have been led to believe. Single sales have dropped, but 28 million more albums were sold last year than a decade ago, including digital sales. Live performances, which account for more than half of the industry's profits, are unaffected by downloads – and may even be boosted by the opportunity they offer for young people on tight budgets to sample the music they might like to hear at a concert.

So the music industry survived, and continues to thrive. And movie box-office numbers don't seem to be going down as more movies end up on the internet. So, can publishers and authors continue on? I hope so.

I think what may be needed is a new business model. Perhaps a Netflix of books. Or more use of advertising so that free content makes money.

I definitely agree that new business models are needed. As a writer in multiple disciplines - from spiritual blogging to poetry, I find the current flux in the publishing world quite confusing. Just a decade ago, I was in a graduate level creative writing program, learning how to write query letters and locate which print journals I could publish work in to build a case for getting, for example, poetry books published. Online publishing, including blogs, was mostly the realm of hacks, tech nerds, and amateurs with little interest in actually going through the hoops to get their work published "legitimately." It's amazing how quickly things can change. Although the old ways of getting your writing published still work to some extent, the internet has opened up so many other opportunities, and with that, a lot of questions.

Of course, as a Buddhist, all this brings to mind the second precept. Here are a few translations.

Thich Nhat Hanh's version is very specific.

"Aware of the suffering caused by exploitation, social injustice, stealing, and oppression, I undertake to cultivate loving kindness and learn ways to work for the well-being of people, animals, plants, and minerals. I undertake to practice generosity by sharing my time, energy, and material resources with those who are in real need. I am determined not to steal and not to possess anything that should belong to others. I will respect the property of others, but I will prevent others from profiting from human suffering or the suffering of other species on Earth."

And here's a more simple version from a dharma talk by Kusala Bhikshu

I accept the training precept not to steal, not to take what is not given.

One of the challenges of the economic system many of us currently live under is the lack of generosity it displays in it's very roots. The intellectual property rights laws and framework, which I and any publisher might use to "protect" whatever writing we seek to publish, create a logjam around it that frequently discourages sharing. At the same time, simply ridding ourselves of this system basically means leaving millions of writers, artists, and others in a financial lurch.

In some ways, I have always thought that finding ways to decouple the income of artists and writers from the specific "end products" they make is part of the answer. Having to sell every last piece of writing or chunk of pottery to make ends meet financially has always seemed like a crazy expectation to me. And yet, if you talk to the average middle level manager of a Fortune 500 corporation, or rank and file elected official, you'll probably find little sympathy for writers and artists. Produce a crap load of marketable stuff, have a "real" job, or stop doing it all together will be the three comments you'll most likely hear from these folks, and many others. Some of these same people will have offices filled with art and books, and can't imagine a life without some "culture," as long as that culture comes as a cheap afterthought of course.

So, it's hard for me - as one of those writers and artists who makes next to nothing on his work - to know how to respond to something like pirated dharma books. I can say I have downloaded maybe four or five books over the years, almost exclusively things I figured I would never see a paper copy of in a bookstore. I also had a short phase of downloading music files, but that was years ago, before Napster's downfall and the lawsuits that followed. There are other things I do download, like articles and podcasts, which mostly are being offered freely by the people who made them. Overall, though, I'm just less of a collector than I used to be. So, even if I'm really into something like a writer or musician, I'm rarely rushing out to find all the material he or she has produced anymore.

But I keep coming back to a question. How can we all be more generous? What can be done to maximize generosity towards writers, artists, publishers, and the rest of us participating in the circle?

That's what I'll offer today. Those questions. Feel free to add to the discussion with your comments and questions as well.

Honesty Isn't Always the Best Policy

Over at the webzine I regularly write for, Life as a Human, there is an interesting post about the problems that come with overemphasizing a single trait or value in your life. Author Lorne Daniel writes:

We have all met the person who loudly proclaims his or her honesty, at the expense of everything and everyone in their path.

“I just like to be honest,” she says, after trashing a child’s new artwork. Or “frankly, this project isn’t worth a dime” at a business meeting.

“I know I’m blunt,” some people will say, “but I just don’t like to beat around the bush.” Yes, there can be too much avoidance and obfuscation in human interactions. Our language overflows with euphemisms.

Yet in the guise of being clear and up-front, the pusher of honesty is often all about a single-minded focus on his own opinions and an avoidance of reasoned thought. It’s easier to be a bulldozer than a listener.

Although I don't consider myself an overemphasizer in this manner, I have been this person who offers blunt, unrestrained commentary before. In fact, I littered my previous workplace with such statements for a several months, until it became painfully obvious that the strategy was failing and that I was quickly burning all bridges in the process.

As a Zen practitioner, I have seen myself and others overemphasize one Buddhist precept above all the others. Speaking the truth, or not lying, is a common choice here. A literal approach is taken - that it is never ok to lie about anything - and action stems from that belief. During a recent class on this precept at the zen center, there was one person in particular who was pushing this view. He rightly questioned others who were defending lying in certain situations, but couldn't see - it seemed to me - how attached he was to truth telling.

Attachment to view is one concern when overemphasizing a single precept or ethical teaching. Another is simply aggrandizing yourself.

The blunt folks in Lorne's example above often come from a place of self-aggrandizement, believing that they alone have the answers. I was damned well convinced during that low period at my old job that I knew what needed to be done. If I just shouted a little louder, repeated myself a little more, it might sink in. It was, in other words, "all about me and my ideas."

Now, certainly I had some insight there. But I was also ignoring the contributions of others, and failed to pay attention to cues as to how I might be heard more clearly. Being honest in the way I was actually created a dynamic where I missed important information from others, and thus over time, what I was being honest about became less and less truthful. Do you see how that is?

The problem with excessive blunt honesty is the same problem that comes with excessive passivity around the truth. The relational aspect underpinning all of Buddhist practice - and really of all of life - is discounted or ignored. And so no matter how truthful one is being in a particular situation, it's off the mark.

Lorne writes:

We all long for simplicity. Hence, the temptation to adopt one virtue as our personal calling card and run with it. “I’m all about honesty.” Or “all the world needs is more compassion.”

Sure, be honest. And compassionate. And rigorous. And flexible. Give a try at a nuanced, integrated application of human virtues.

This nuanced, integrated approach is really exactly what we Buddhists call skillful means. It's a recognition of the unique coming together that makes up each moment.

Thus, the old saying "Honesty is the best policy" is probably useful for chronic liars, but actually can be poisonous for those who "cannot tell a lie."



*Grant Wood's painting "Parson Weems' Fable (1939), which is based on a popularized story about George Washington and a cherry tree.

Killing Ignorance?

I have seen a few people comment on this article by Spirit Rock Meditation Center co-founder James Baraz. In it, he suggests our common enemy is ignorance.

The real villain in this story is not Jared Loughner. It's not the media. And it's not the gun rights advocates. The real villain is ignorance. Because of ignorance, people project their fear and turn those who are different into enemies -- both in their minds and in actuality. This is the history of war, as Sam Keen brilliantly pointed out in Faces of the Enemy. Once you demonize the "other" they become less than human and you can inflict pain on them without guilt or shame.

Seems pretty accurate, right?

Well, then I reading the chapter in Zen Teacher Reb Anderson's book Being Upright about the first precept, and he says this:

If you try to kill ignorance, then you will kill the actual life of your body and mind.

I don't think these two teachers are in conflict, but the focus on ignorance as a "villain" is perhaps a nice metaphorical shift (i.e. moving our anger and blame from a person or group and placing it on ignorance), but it seems to be a good way to lead people astray.

Villains are usually despised, even often by other villains. And violence tends to be about harming or eliminating perceived villains. So it's not hard to see the leap that could be made here. Instead of harming or trying to eliminate others, the sword or gun or weapon of choice is turned inward. In the vast majority of cases, not literally, but more of a sense of "self hatred" for all the ignorance that is found within (and is mirrored in the world).

I have often identified with the bodhisattva figure Manjushri, whose sword is said to cut through delusion. It's easy to get drawn into imagining that he is constantly swinging that thing, like a samurai, but it's really more a representative of realized wisdom which cuts through delusions. So, actual swinging and cutting or not isn't the point.

So, while I agree with Baraz that a collective shift of individuals focusing on the ignorance that leads to demonization and violence would be a good thing, it's important not to slide into something like a war on ignorance, whether as individuals or as members of societies. That's just another dualistic trap in my opinion.

Enviro-Pig and the First Precept

Around bedtime last night, I was listening to the BBC on the radio, and a story came on about a farm in Canada raising Enviropigs. What's an Enviropig? It's a genetically modified pig that's able to digest phosphorus, which means they are less feed intensive and also give off less phosphorus pollution. Like other GMOs, the general argument for meddling with nature is that we need more easier to grow, and more productive food sources to feed an increasing human population around the world.

The ethically tangles around this are so dense, even if you ultimately accept GMOs as necessary. Full disclosure: I've never supported GMOs.

As I listened to the story on the radio last night, I considered the precept of not killing. On the one hand, feeding people who aren't getting fed seems to uphold that precept. However, what about the impact of changing pig DNA? What will that do in the long run for pigs as a species? And what about the focus on the increasing population of humans, to the exclusion of the rest of the planet's needs? How does this fit into the first precept? I've always had some trouble with raising animals solely for people to eat, even when it's done in a humane way. It's different from hunting and fishing, where the animals killed previously lived the life of a wild deer or salmon or whatever. Especially when you look at factory farm animals, it's clear to me that their spirit or animalness is killed off almost right from birth.

Human population discussions are also very dicey. They frequently slip into racist and classist diatribes where poor people of color in countries like India and China are blamed for all the woes of the natural world, never mind that nations with majority white populations have tended to be the biggest polluters, and biggest exploiters of the land up until very recently (when China's impact has greatly increased). And yet, it's also hard to imagine doubling the human population, and not also increasing the damage to the planet we all live on.

So, when considering something like Eviropig, if you unfold a few layers, you start to see issues like abortion, birth control, and family planning under the surface.

The Catholic church has had a very prominent anti-abortion, anti-birth control stance for decades now, the Pope's recent comments notwithstanding. But they aren't the only ones. Every major religion has a significant strand within it that is decidedly focused on blocking attempts at family planning, and working to maintain tight controls on abortions in nations around the world. Buddhism included. The Reverand Danny Fisher recently reported an update to the story about the fetuses discovered at at Buddhist temple. Among other things, the discovery prompted a government crackdown on abortion clinics, which are currently illegal in Thailand, and renewed debate on the country's half century old abortion laws.

I support reducing the number of abortions, but am also all to aware of how decidedly tied to patriarchal views of women and children these laws tend to be. Mostly advocated for and passed by men, highly restrictive abortion laws are almost always linked to bans on family planning measures, including access to contraception, or deep restrictions on non-profit and private groups that wish to offer family planning methods for women.

Enviropig raises all these questions, and even more. Is it true that there isn't enough food in the world to feed people? How are multinational mining, agrobusiness, oil, and other corporations impacting the food supplies and land and waters where said food comes from? Would reforming destructive practices of businesses be a better solution to the "food question" than created GMO plants and animals?

One of my favorite writers and thinkers, Frances Moore Lappe, co-wrote a book about twenty years ago that has some pretty convincing evidence that views that food is a scarce resource in need of being propped up by more production and GMOs is false. I know plenty of people out there would disagree with her analysis, but whenever I hear about another GMO, I think "Who really benefits here?" and "What's the long term impact?"

Another issue with Eviropig to consider is the level of human meat consumption. I've written about vegetarian diets and Buddhism in the past, and tend to see diet as more complex than simply meat or no meat. However, the need for "super pigs" and "super cows," for example, would be greatly reduced if more people either went vegetarian or limited their meat consumption. When it comes to environmental damage, heavy meat consumption - again, especially linked to large scale farming and ranching corporations - is one of the major negative impacts humans are having on the planet.

Eating is something we all do. And how our food comes to us, and what that means for the rest of planet, is something that everyone needs to be considering more closely. The first precept of taking up the way of not killing is a perfect container, in my opinion, for considering such issues. There is more I could write here, but I'll leave it at this for now. How about you? What do you make of Enviropig? And what about all the other issues that come with considering Enviropig?

Renewal of the Buddhist Precepts

Long seeking it through others,
I was far from reaching it.
Now I go by myself;
I meet it everywhere.
It is just I myself,
And I am not itself.
Understanding this way,
I can be as I am.

Tozan(806-869)

I joined our current jukai group last night for a study of the Ten Grave Precepts. Often misunderstood by outsiders, and some insiders, as being literal commandments, the precepts are one of the main bases of ethics found in the Buddhist tradition, and they operate on different levels in our lives.

For example, the first precept is Taking up the way of not killing." You can examine the ways you kill and don't kill in your literally, and this is fruitful if not taken to an extreme. (In other words, be wary if your thoughts and behaviors start to look Jainist because that's too strict according to Buddhist teachings.) A second way of examining the precept is from the compassionate or relative level. For example, you consider that in the context of being a person with a body, you need to eat in order to live. And eating involves killing, even if you're vegan. A third way you can approach the precept is to contemplate the ultimate truth level.

Bodhidharma, for example, said, "Self-nature is subtle and mysterious. In the realm of the everlasting Dharma, not giving rise to concepts of killing is called the Precept of Not Killing."

The ultimate level is tricky to work with, and history is filled with examples of abuse of the ultimate truth, such as the samuaris who defended killings using the doctrine of emptiness. However, it's vitally important at some point to deeply consider the ultimate level when facing the precepts, otherwise you're just skimming along the surface.

For some reason, the poem from Tozan feels like a wonderful precepts teaching for me. If anything, it's a reminder that ethics aren't an "outside job," and that until you've incubated and sprouted them in your life, they are just nice ideas you follow. Now, following along isn't a terrible thing. It's more that the precepts are calling us to do more than follow along, and to recognize following along as a step, not a final destination.

This is my third class studying the precepts. It's been about once every three years. It never gets old. They always look slightly different. In fact, last night I felt myself drawn to Bodhidharma's take in a way I've never felt before. So, we'll see where that goes. I'll let you know if anything comes of it :)

Take care and be well.

Men Getting Angry and the Hook of Self-Righteousness

I wrote about anger as entertainment a few days ago, and would like to add a little to that discussion with the help of another voice. The following is from this guest post by Don Mead over at the blog Metta Refuge:

But, one might say, “My anger is Vajra (spiritual) anger. There is no hate in it. My anger works for the good of all sentient beings.” Luckily for us, there is a very easy test to check if our anger is ego-centric or not.

If there is even the slightest bit of self-righteousness, then we, are 100% in the wrong. In fact, I would go so far to say that self-righteousness is the Ninth Precept’s best friend. It is so easy to recognize in ourselves that all excuses to indulge our anger are washed away. But we need to examine ourselves honestly. “Do we, in fact, like the energy of anger?”

Now, his conclusion that we "are 100% in the wrong" seems a little clunky. Wisdom is contained within our delusion-riddled responses, and I also believe that getting into labeling things "right" and "wrong" misses the mark. However, I think his focus on self-righteousness is a good one to pay attention to.

One example I used when speaking about anger in my previous post had to do with cars blocking the crosswalk while I was trying to cross. Even a momentary glance at the anger that arose during that situation is enough to see how I felt superior to those drivers involved. I was following the laws, and also was not polluting the planet as I walked, while those drivers were both breaking crosswalk laws and, by being in cars, adding pollution to the environment. There is a certain truth in these statements, and anyone who reads my blog knows that I always try to take the social context into account. It's never just about "me" or "you" or some "others."

However, at the same time, I can see how hanging onto statements like that, and even pointing immediately to the larger context in situations can be a dodge of responsibility. If I look closely at the anger in that situation, it's really more about two things: fear, and a deeper woundedness.

The fear is easy to see. Drivers often forget in their haste and/or being surrounded by a half ton or more of plastic, metal, and whatnot that in any crash between a car and a pedestrian (or bicyclist), the pedestrian (or bicyclist) probably will be hurt, frequently hurt badly. I've been hit twice by cars while on bicycles, and know this intimately. So, whenever a car gets too close, some fear is bound to arise. In addition, the blocking of the crosswalk usually means stepping out into traffic part of the way, or attempting somehow to get the driver to back the car back, both of which are scary if you ask me.

The second, deeper issue for me in this situation is a sense of woundedness I feel when it comes to my own impact, and the rest of humanity's impact, on the planet. Car-centric urban and suburban planning, where people on foot, bicyclists, and others are de-emphasized in favor of increasing the speed and mobility of cars - experiencing the results of this always brings up grief, sadness, and helplessness in me. And behind these emotions is a story about how the world "should" be different, more eco and community friendly. I don't want to accept the situation as it is, and in fact, believe that accepting the situation as it is means giving up on any kind of work towards things like an eco and community friendly place to live.

I think this is a struggle for most of us who become involved in social, environmental, racial, and other forms of justice-oriented work. Accepting the present conditions feels like defeat, and people who aren't involved, or could care less about the world around them really don't understand why we "justice work types" get so attached to our visions, and also have a hard time accepting the realities that are currently present.

When it comes to anger, though, it's a more acceptable expression than all of this complex grief, attachment, justice narrative stuff, especially for men. Getting pissed off can give you instant street cred amongst activists, or just plain frustrated people, like the ones at the bus stop with me this morning, waiting for a late bus. (Half the people waiting were pissed off, and I started to act angry about the bus being late when the reality was that I really didn't care if I was a few minutes late to work, and mostly just wanted to blend into the conversation that was already around me.) In "ordinary" situations like this, getting angry allows us men to cover up all the other stuff I mentioned above that takes time to explain, and might make us "look weak" or "odd" in the process. At the bus stop this morning, I didn't want to expend the energy to have a real conversation with the people standing there, getting upset because I was already thinking about how much energy teaching my classes was going to take. So, I opted for faux anger, which allowed me to blend in, and not have to actually say or do much. The sad thing about this is that it just added a few drops of misery to the collective pot, and really didn't save much energy for my teaching either. Maybe if I had expressed some calm, and the actual sense that I wasn't really worried about a late bus, I could have helped lessen the anger load for everyone else. Or at least not added to it.

*11 of the 12 angry men from the 1957 film 12 Angry Men