Did you hear the one about the Dalai Lama and Lululemon?

Seriously, it's no joke. In an era of ever-expanding capitalist reach, the spiritual leader of Tibetan Buddhism is teaming up with a corporation well known for its sexism, sizism, and sweatshop labor practices.

Lululemon and the Dalai Lama Center for Peace and Education are partnering to “promote mindfulness…to foster heart-mind wellbeing in children and youth.”

Heart-mind well-being refers to ”creating a balance between educating the mind and educating the heart” by encouraging children to develop social and emotional skills, as per the description on the Dalai Lama Center’s website. Thanks to this new partnership with Lululemon and the 250,000 Canadian dollars ($221,900) they’ll provide annually for the next three years (that’s almost a quarter of a million dollars every year), the center’s heart-mind education initiative can be expanded and further research can be done on the connection between the heart and mind, so that more kids will be more mindful, compassionate and able to resolve conflicts more peacefully, for example.

I can already hear the spiritual noise train arriving on track 29. What about 'form is emptiness, emptiness is form'? Why are you bringing politics into all this? Why are you hating on Lululemon again? Why are you hating on the Dalai Lama? WHAT ... ABOUT ... THE CHILDREN?!!!!

Spare me. I'm tired of corporate apologetics, idol worship, and the use of dharmic teachings in the service of maintaining colonialism and the capitalism it spawned. This deal has all the hallmarks of the non-profit industrial complex on it, and really, it's pretty sad that the Dalai Lama Center leadership thinks that an expensive clothing company is the kind of outfit that ready, willing, and most importantly able to spread "mindfulness ... and heart-mind wellbeing in children and youth." I mean, the company's target audience isn't even children and youth. If they want to go this route, perhaps joining up with Lego, Microsoft, Nintendo, or some other such corporation might be in order.

Note that the Dalai Lama Center's press release contains not only the NASDAQ tag for Lululemon (in case folks want to invest in stock?), but also a paragraph long description of the company that appears to be cut and pasted from Lululemon's marketing copy.

What does the Dalai Lama Center have to say about the sexism, sizism, classism, and oppressive labor practices of the corporation they're partnering with? Do they intend to also promote mindful awareness of the systemic causes that allow folks like the on again off again leader of Lululemon, Chip Wilson, to essentially get away with comments about pronouncements about women's thighs and jokes about Japanese mispronunciations of Lululemon? Or, since this is supposedly all about the children, will they speak out loudly against Chip Wilson's support of "Third World child labor"? Sure, Wilson is finally gone after a long power struggle, but concretely addressing his views (and their corporate practices) in the context of the global capitalist workplace would put some teeth into this project.

Finally, I have to say that if Lululemon truly wanted to be a leader in promoting mindfulness and compassion in the lives of tomorrow's leaders, they'd invest a hell of a lot more than $750,000. For a corporation bringing in nearly $2 billion annually, that's essentially pocket change. And also a small price to pay for a marketing campaign to restore the company's long tarnished image.

"White Space" - Considering Race and Racism in American Zen Sanghas

This post about the 50th Anniversary celebration of San Francisco Zen Center has haunted me since I first read it. The whole thing is worth reading, more than once. For most white practitioners, it probably will take several reads and plenty of contemplation to truly get a sense of all the layers being expressed. Forgive me if that sounds nasty; I'm just keenly aware these days how slow the process of decolonization seems to be. Over and over again, I'm running into well meaning, intelligent white folks - people who look exactly like me - that turn away, act defensive, or posture that we live in a post racial world the moment race is brought into a discussion.

Anyway, back to Sistah Vegan's post.

Yes, overall I really enjoyed the event last night. Great celebration and memories of the Zen center’s past 50 years. Green Gulch Zen Center is beautiful and I have developed amazing relationships there, so I thank the co-founders for making these sites possible. I deeply appreciate what I have learned from Zen Buddhism and the practice’s impact on how I constantly try to be mindful and compassionate– including how I try to teach largely white racialized subjects about systemic whiteness and structural racism. But I have to admit that I am quite disappointed in the mistake of seeing Simone as Angela Davis because that ‘mistake’ potentially represents an overall problem of recognizing the impact of a homogenous Zen fellowship: what does racial homogeneity do to the collective white racialized subject’s consciousness if they participate in a mostly white (and quite financially stable) Buddhist fellowship in a nation in which whiteness is privileged? I actually wish that white dominated Buddhist fellowships would add a rule that everyone has to participate in ‘mindfulness whiteness ‘ sesshins. It would be great if an added tenet to Buddhism, for such congregations, could be, “We shall learn about how structural racism and whiteness impact our Zen practice. We shall be open and loving to transforming ourselves and not become angry as we learn about how white racial formation has deeply affected our Zen hearts.”

First off, mindfulness whiteness sesshins would be a great practice. I fully endorse that idea.

Beyond this, though, there are so many aspects of convert American Zen practice communities that are taken as basic forms and approaches, but actually are rather white in conception. The commonplace blending of psychotherapy with Zen teachings. The curious relationship with the Asian ancestry, which is often either demonstrated through an attempt to strictly adhere to "Asian" forms or a nearly complete rejection of those same forms as "unnecessary," and/or "cultural baggage." In fact, the very manner in which Zen centers are laid out - the use of space - is often "white" in ways that are completely invisible to most of us white folks. Professor John Powell has written a fair amount about "white space." Here's one of his articles, which points out how "public" and "private" space in the U.S. was historically - and continues to some extent to be - divided along racially determined lines and understandings of space.

Speaking of space, over the past year, our sangha has been considering whether to move from our current location or not. As the head of the board, I have been at the center of all of these conversations, a placement that - as a white male - hasn't been lost upon me. I'm finding myself struggling with the tone and tenor of many of our conversations. Over and over again, the issues of "noise" and "disappearing parking" seem to dominate the day. Over the winter, during the board's annual retreat, an initial vision of sangha was produced by a subsection of the board that felt to me, and a few others, like a privileged image. It was essentially a cute, little building on top of a hill with a rolling stream cutting through the front of the location. Although that image was rejected, given that we intend to stay in the city, there still seems to be a strong sense of "needing" to be in a "quiet" neighborhood with lots of available parking and other amenities. The strongest voices advocating for this are long term members who are regular meditation retreat practitioners - nearly all of them white and solidly middle or upper middle class.

As one of the financially poorest members of the community, it's difficult not to think about how class comes into the picture. And when I think about the kinds of images being brought up around space, they correspond directly with predominantly white, middle and upper middle class neighborhoods. Consistent quietness in the city is intimately connected with how white folks with means use space. It's not what you find in poorer neighborhoods, and it's not what you find in mixed race, mixed income neighborhoods. At least here in the Twin Cities. In those neighborhoods, more people are regularly outside. Doing things in groups. Making noise. Having fun. Some are causing trouble too. But the main thing is that the space of the neighborhood is more actively used as public. Shared. Church parking lots double as farmer's markets and playgrounds. People more regularly gather on front lawns or porches. Even the front ends of privately owned shops often serve as gathering spots for those that frequent them.

Furthermore, the emphasis on cars, and parking, feels classed and somewhat raced as well. We have a new light rail train going in that ends right at the doorstep of our current location. The conversation around it has mostly been about the potential noise factor. The few conversations we've had where the train might be a vehicle for bringing in new members, or easing the commute for some current members, quickly sputtered. It's not that people can't see the possible value of a train or public transit; it's mostly that few of them will really consider using it regularly, and aren't really thinking much about folks who do use public transit (like myself) as a significant portion of membership. We, as a group, are off the radar. And the handful of folks like myself that self identify as bikers and public transit riders are mostly considered an anomaly.

I'm not questioning my fellow sangha member's sense that meditation retreats are difficult when there is nightly music right behind one of the walls, and when there is construction going on during the day outside our windows. What I am questioning is the movement from the extremes of our current location - which may require us to relocate - to a set of visions that are essentially devoid of many of the elements that make up urban living.

Oh, and then there's the desire for a better kitchen. Why? Primarily so that the cooking being done for meditation retreats goes smoother, is easier. I've heard next to no talk about, for example, wanting a better kitchen so we could cook more community meals, or to perhaps have a soup kitchen for homeless folks, and any other shared eating activity beyond retreats. Wanting a better kitchen for activity that takes up approximately 3-7 days a month, and involves between 7-20 members of the community, feels like a really limited vision for a kitchen. And an expensive need as well.

All of which makes me wonder who it is that our community really desires to serve. Are we yet another white, middle class organization with a great inclusiveness policy, but which is still driven by the desires of it's white, middle and upper middle class members? What does it mean to want to be located "in the city," and yet also want to avoid at least some of what makes up what I would call a vibrant city? There are great Buddhist sanghas located in cities all over Asia. Some of them also have sister temples located in rural areas, in the manner that San Francisco Zen Center has emulated.

I don't have any definitive answers or conclusions at this point. We are really in the middle of the process. A part of me wonders if I should post this, and that's exactly why I am going to post it. I am deeply grateful to my Zen sangha as it is and, as Suzuki Roshi said, "it could use a little improvement." May we find a more enlightened way forward.

Working Class Buddhisms

Thanks to Katie over at Kloncke, who just celebrated her birthday, I got to read this cool article on Buddhism and working class folks by Joshua Eaton. He brings up many excellent points in his writing, but what struck me most was a comment left by "amayfaire":

I came to Buddhism as a working class kid, seeking some sort of spiritual home that didn’t require me to rely on fancy clothes, or tithes, or praying to deities that seemed to have little connection to my daily life. I found Buddhism as a spiritual home that argued against all those systems that held me in. Nobody brought me Buddhism, I found it.

Is the problem that the working class needs help finding Buddhism? I don’t think so. I think Buddhism needs help finding the working classes. We in the working classes know all about sangha, because our networks of community are integral to our survival and the survival of our families. We know all about death, and disease, and living in poverty, because we live with it each day. I think that, too often, there is an assumption that a lower income somehow correlates to a lack of intellect or spiritual engagement, as though being working class means someone has to bring “enlightenment” to “the masses" or working class folks are too attached to understand non-attachment. The working classes, however, have much to offer mainstream American Buddhism about what it means to be enlightened, about what it means to be Buddhist. For us in the working class, a spiritual life cannot depend on income, so it does not. We don’t need a sliding scale, nor do we seek a teacher other than the ones we carry within ourselves and our communities. We are a sangha surrounded by struggle, by disease and death, by the realities of a life that requires hard work and social invisibility. And from my sangha I have learned more about being Buddhist than any experience in my life.

As long time readers of this blog know, I have always felt like a "tweener." I have a decidedly middle class education, but have spent much of my life living fairly close to the bone in material terms. So, this comment really resonated with me, and I think that it's various messages have something really important to teach Western Buddhists.

I recall having a discussion with a few members of our sangha recently about personal finances and the larger, slowly tanking global economy. One person was, in particular, struggling with fears of losing her job, and suddenly finding herself homeless or in some other really difficult pickle due to lost income. And she turned to me and another dharma friend who lives close to the bone and said "I worry about you guys."

Now, in one sense, it was heartening to hear such a statement. After all these years of practicing together, I do feel the caring and compassion of the folks who have been there - kept going at the practice, even when it felt like the last thing they wanted to be doing.

I another sense, though, I noticed a difference in view that in some ways is built upon differing levels of material wealth. Simply put, while I do have a bit of fear around going completely broke and having nothing, it's also the case that I don't have a whole lot to lose anyway. Furthermore, like the commenter above, I have developed a network and understand that not only survival, but thriving depends upon deeply interwoven, and sometimes really diverse relationships.

What that conversation got me thinking was this: how would our sangha handle a situation where one or more of it's members faced "financial ruin"? Do we understand "sangha" deeply enough to move past the privatized, post World War Two middle class notions that often divide us, even as we sit next to each other on the cushion?

What do I mean by that last question exactly? Well, to my sangha's credit, we have had an ongoing, informal group called "Hearts and Hands" which was set up to help support members facing some kind of crisis. People have cooked meals and brought them to sick members. Or driven people to appointments. Or taken care of children. As I have seen it, this group - when it's been active - has been a step across the line into a deeper understanding of sangha.

But is that the culture of our sangha? I'd say not really. It's the culture of a subsection of our sangha - something that some of us probably hope would spread throughout the sangha, but which hasn't done so as of yet.

Why? For various reasons. However, I'm quite certain that one of the reasons is class-based. Because middle class folks don't tend to see whatever networks they have as integral to their survival. When the chips are down financially, they usually seek individual or nuclear family-based solutions first, believing - even if they deny it - that personal responsibility trumps everything else. That "I" or "my family" must figure it out, and that "I" or "we" are not going to be "dependent on handouts," thank you very much.

Now, there is some of this attitude amongst working class and poor folks, but not nearly as much. And while some in this wide ranging and diverse group have given in to lives of "gaming the system" and not making much effort, I'd argue that the large majority are living with an understanding of sangha - of community - that is sorely lacking amongst middle and upper class folks.

As the global economy wobbles on the edge of total collapse these days, my mind has shifted towards how to be creative when it comes to meeting material needs. If things really fall apart, I'm convinced that one of our greatest hindrances collectively will be these middle class notions that "I" and/or "my immediate family" must take care of ourselves first, and foremost. We talk so much about breaking down attachments to that "I" on a psychological/spiritual level - but what about on a material/economic level? When will I/we finally see that interdependence actually is our birthright, and is actually calling us to reclaim a much deeper sense of living in community(s)?

There are signs in my home sangha that, if financial crisis hit a number of members, we might be able to break through the shell and support each other. Maybe even find a new sense of what it means to be a sangha. Our collective commitment to working with children, and seeing them as dharma practitioners in their own right, is a great positive. The Hearts and Hands group is another. And our head teacher's desire to diversify the sangha is yet another. At the same time, the privatized, middle class narratives are pretty damned strong, and there is plenty in the broader national landscape working against truly embodying interdependence.

I even wonder about myself, feeling some of that privatized, pull yourself up by the bootstraps narrative floating within my body and mind. I'd like to think that I'm capable of stepping beyond the pride, guilt, middle class "success" narratives and whatnot that help to maintain separation amongst people in community, but I just don't know. So, writing this is part of that process of opening, and/or remembering.

What are your thoughts on all this?

Bikram Yoga: The End Logic of a Love Affair with Capitalism

This is probably old news to some in the wider yoga world, but I hadn't heard of it until stumbling on the following from an article in Yes Magazine:

Through centuries of evolution as a spiritual practice, any new yoga poses or techniques were automatically incorporated into the tradition for everyone to use. But beginning in 1978 an Indian named Bikram Choudhury, now based in Beverly Hills, copyrighted certain long-used hatha yoga poses and sequences as his own invention, Bikram Yoga, and he now threatens other yoga studios teaching these techniques with lawsuits.

Umm ... yeah... I want to offer some measured words about this, but mostly I view all this as absolutely fucked up.

The Bikram website offers more details about the specific lawsuit from seven years ago, as well as some "cautions" to students and teachers interested in Bikram practice. Here's a taste of that:

Bikram's Yoga College of India reminds yoga practitioners and aspiring yoga instructors everywhere that this litigation serves as a powerful example of why there is no benefit to learning from uncertified and unlicensed yoga instructors who claim to teach Bikram yoga or "something like it."

The simple facts are these:

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No one may teach Bikram Yoga classes unless he/she is a certified and licensed Bikram Yoga teacher.
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No one may teach or certify others to become Bikram Yoga teachers other than Bikram Choudhury.
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No one may offer obvious, thinly disguised copies of Bikram Yoga and represent to the public that it is "their" yoga.

Yoga students should be particularly cautious of those persons who claim to offer teacher training and/or teacher "certification" in Bikram Yoga, or represent or suggest that their yoga teacher training program "is just as good as Bikram Yoga." Nobody may teach others to become Bikram Yoga teachers other than Bikram Choudhury himself.

This lawsuit is proof that the legal system will vindicate Bikram against those persons who exploit and adulterate Bikram Yoga for their own purposes.

Oh, where to start. I find lawsuits of this nature, involving attempts to control the spread of religious/spiritual practices and teachings, quite troubling. Finding the line between an individual or organization's new and original work, and the historical underpinnings of that work is rarely an easy task. In addition, the whole infusion of monetary settlements, patent rights, and proprietary controls, while seemingly a correct response in a capitalist society, creates a shift away from basic protections of religious/spiritual teachers and institutions, and towards a corporate re-culturing.

Bikram wasn't fighting unjust zoning laws, or trying to keep his school open and maintain a decent livelihood: it was all about making shit-tons of money. Consider this:

As of 2006, there were 1600 Bikram studios around the world.

Teacher training fees for each prospective teacher are $7000, much higher than the average yoga teacher training.

Bikram owns more than 40 Rolls Royces and Bentleys, as well as over 100 designer watches.

You can buy almost anything with a Bikram label on it, including a Set of Two Handmade SWAROVSKI CRYSTAL Glasses with Bikram Logo for only $75. Wine after yoga perhaps?

When asked about how much money he's making, Bikram himself responded "It's huge,' he says, 'I'm making - I don't know - millions of dollars a day, $10 million a month - who knows how much?"

Sounds like deep spiritual practice, doesn't it? Actually, Bikram doesn't really talk much about the spiritual background of yoga. There's a lot of talk about health and wellness, which is not a problem. Obviously, like Buddhist meditation, yoga has more and more slid into secular culture, appearing everywhere from corporate board rooms to Christian hospice programs. I've written about some of the downsides of this trend before, but I don't believe secular versions of spiritual practices are always a bad thing.

However, going back to Mr. Choudhury, here's a mouthful he delivered while leading a class of over 250 people:

'Bikram yoga is good for marathon sex!' he shouts. 'Once you do Bikram yoga you can't get it down for 72 hours!' Some manage to chortle, in spite of their contortions. 'The biggest problem in the Western world is divorce! Wind Removing Pose!' In response to this order, everyone lies on their backs with knees bent and pulled up into armpits. 'Why buy the cow if you don't get the milk? If a woman cannot do this posture don't think about getting married ... NO GAPS! If there is gap, instead of nice sex the man will be playing ping-pong under the bed, the husband loses his balls ... '

Nothing like a little sexism, heterosexism, and sexualizing to keep the body going, eh? Perhaps all the GLBTQ students were excused during this part of the program.

There's nothing even remotely enlightened or wise about any of this in my opinion. Bikram makes controversial Zen teachers like Richard Baker Roshi, who also had a fondness for fast money and fancy cars, or Genpo Roshi, whose Big Mind Process has made big money, look like specks of dust. However, all three of them are examples of charismatic spiritual teachers who fell for the lures of greed and power, believing that there is such a thing as a healthy merger of hyper-capitalist business practices and ancient religious/spiritual teachings.

Given the exponential increase of interest in "Eastern" religions and philosophies amongst people in predominantly capitalist nations, it is even more the case that the intersections between the two must be closely examined. It's not enough to just import these ancient teachings and practices, and then say whatever happens with money and finances isn't that important. Or that it's only a matter of not stealing and following societies laws about finances.

There are many fine, devoted communities already grappling with these challenges, including my own sangha. However, I think it's also fair to say that there is quite a dearth of lucid commentaries on the ways in which "Western" Buddhist and yoga communities are actually working with money and finances, how that effort meshes or doesn't mesh with their school's teachings, and how whatever is being learned might be truly applied to issues of Right Livelihood. Denials of, or gross ignorance of classism, for example, is still a hallmark of these institutions. Good intentions aren't enough; everything from membership dues, to class fees, to the ways in which classes are taught and what issues are focused on must be deeply examined.

When I think of working with some of my former ESL students for example, considering their struggle to stay out of deep poverty, to learn a new language and culture, and to come to terms with the violence and/or oppression they experienced in their native countries (and which some continue to experience here in the U.S.), I don't think $200 classes or discussions about whether or not children are "indoctrinated" by being introduced to Buddhism as kids are going to cut it.

I doubt the majority of teachers or organizations will ever reach the absurdity of Bikram and his "yoga school," but extreme examples are always wonderful opportunities to take a closer look at ways in which each of us and our communities are handling whatever issues are involved.

*Photo is of Bikram hanging with his homeys. Ummm, yeah...