Practice Like Our Hair is On Fire: A Twist on an Old Buddhist Phrase

One thing I find challenging about practicing Buddhism in a wealthy nation, surrounded by other practitioners who tend to have "enough," is the huge disconnect many have between their spiritual practice and the social environment. This is especially true of white, heterosexual North American practitioners who do not have to face issues of institutional, systemic discrimination and oppression. Beyond this, however, I continue to reflect on how, for example, Buddhist monks and nuns in Burma, or Tibet, or Vietnam to give a few examples, really don't have the easy option of making such separations. Their practice and the social realities in their nations are obviously inseparable. They might be able to complete long periods of intensive meditation and study, or they might wake up one day to gunfire, ramped up soldiers, or some natural disaster barreling down upon them. These folks do not get to "wait" until they become enlightened, or "wise," to get into the fray of social concerns. They just have to step up, and do their best awakened work.

Along these lines, there's the statement "practice like your hair is on fire." It's provocative, but what is it really about? Perhaps more importantly for us in affluent countries, who have "enough" and/or are relatively "safe," what does it really mean?

I've seen numerous articles, blog posts, and comments in recent months about the ways in which dharma practice in affluent countries is too often being reduced to stress relief, psychological health, and other individualistic focuses. Even laments over the loss of a focus on enlightenment often sound individualistic, which makes me wonder if this is a byproduct - in part - of living and practicing in relative comfort. Being comfortable with the discomfort and dysfunction that are produced daily in materially wealthy, capitalist societies. There's something about living with most, if not all of your basic needs met, that can lead to a smug certainty about what Buddha was teaching us, and how we "should" apply it.

Is the general history we have about Buddhist teachings and how it's manifested in different countries accurate? Do we in Western affluent nations also apply our own understanding of social activism to that history, and assume that most Buddhists historically were focused on individual liberation?

Vows of poverty and "home-leaving" seem to have as much to do with breaking down separation as anything else. It's more difficult to think it's all about you, and/or you and your family and friends, when you depend upon others, including total strangers, for your food, clothing, and shelter.

In other words, teachings like "practice like your hair is on fire" might be an antidote to the separations commonly attached to affluent conditions. However, I think it's more useful to pluralize it.

Practice like OUR hair is on fire. All of us. The entire planet. Because it sure as hell seems to be anyway.

Lack, Abunance, and A Line fron Dogen

If the dharma has not yet fully come into one's body and mind, one thinks it is already sufficient. On the other hand, if the dharma fills one's body and mind, there is a sense of insufficiency. Dogen, Genjokoan

Feeling insufficient, or having a strong sense of lack, is pretty common here in the U.S. anyway. Pretty ironic, given how much "material abundance" we have, even those of us who are fairly poor, at least in comparison to much of the rest of the world. But it's also beyond this.

I remember hearing about how the Dalai Lama was shocked that some people in "western" countries were plagued by self hatred, or at least battered "self-esteem." The strong influence of the doctrine of original sin, as well as capitalism's endless creation of "needs," certainly play a role in all of this.

So, there's that, but then we have the "sufficiency" Dogen speaks about above, which is an arrogance, a belief in a total understanding that isn't present.

These two things go together. The feelings of lack coupled with a belief that you have all the answers, are already fully awakened.

There's nothing really special, though, about the "lack" those of us living in materially rich countries experience. Maybe it just displays itself at such extremes that it's an easy example to uphold and examine.

In any case, humans tend to have it all flipped around, these experiences of insufficiency and sufficiency.

What do you think?

Interogating Happiness

In 1980, the average American CEO's income was 40 times higher than that of the average worker. Today, it is well over 300 times higher.

A new study suggests this rising income inequality in the United States doesn’t just affect Americans’ pocketbooks; it affects their happiness. Over the past four decades, according to the study, the American people have been the least happy in years when there was the widest gap between rich and poor.

The above quote is taken from a recent article in Yes! Magazine, a longtime favorite of mine. Clearly, it's pointing to the level of economic injustice here in the States, the negative impact of which is definitely growing almost by the minute. The Buddha routinely spoke of the three poisons: greed, hatred, and ignorance. And there's little doubt in my mind that the kinds of material disparities we are now seeing are evidence of those poisons in action. All of them.

Hatred, you might be saying? Well, I say yes. Hatred too. Hatred of community. Of what sharing with your neighbors actually means (that we're interdependent and need each on some basic levels). Hatred of poor people, coupled with a fear of becoming "one of them." The list goes on and on.

It's not hard for me to locate the three poisons in either the workings of our economic system, or the beliefs that help drive it. In fact, it's rather too easy. So, let's consider something else in relation to the quote above.

The very linking of one's happiness to material wealth, or lack there of, is at least in part, an acting out of the three poisons as well. Having had our minds colonized by the narratives of consumerism, global capitalism, and the "American Dream," most of us struggle to detach our well being from money, material possessions, and social status derived from job, money, and possessions. The hundreds and even thousands of hours of absorbing advertisements, corporate-driven media news, and corroborating messages from family, friends, and co-workers has left many of our brains swamped in poisons, to the point where some folks can't distinguish themselves anymore.

You may have noticed a rise in popularity over the past decade or so of "zombie" narratives. Movies, novels, faux documentaries, songs - all with zombies at the center. There are many ways to read this phenomenon, but I believe one way to read it is to see how the zombies are, in many ways, forms of "us." An end point, if you will, of the colonization process spoken about in the last paragraph.

And if you think about it, Buddha's teachings - and all great spiritual teachings - have really been about decolonization. Breaking the stranglehold of whatever narratives hold sway for someone personally, as well as those narratives that hold sway over people collectively. Buddha's break with the caste system is an easy example of the latter.

On the flip side, there is also some truth to this linking of happiness (or contentment) with material position. Going without food, clothing shelter, decent health care, safe work conditions, any significant time off from work, and numerous other things are clearly becoming more commonplace amongst Americans. And frankly, it's tough to locate happiness, joy, contentment, or equanimity within those conditions. I fully believe that it's possible to both turn any situation into an opportunity to practice, to find peace and liberation - and, at the same time, to recognize that some conditions are flat out unjust, and worthy of being targets for transformation on a collective scale. In other words, I can choose to place the palette of miserable emotions I might have around economic injustice at the center of my spiritual practice, and at the same time work towards an end of that injustice in whatever ways I (alone and with others) can. And in doing so, might be able to locate happiness, joy, and even liberation in the now, while also honoring the struggles that continue to plague the community, nation, and the world even.

*Image Corporate Wealth Games
by nocwg2010
http://www.flickr.com/photos/48202244@N06/4417197746

"Westerner" on a Spiritual Pilgrimage

I stumbled upon this story on the Yoga International magazine website. What's fascinating is how, if you strip off the first part of the following quote, you might think: Is this another Eat, Pray, Love privilege-fest being quoted here? But it isn't. Not for the most part anyway. Although it's true that anyone able to fly half way around the world to do a "spiritual pilgrimage" has some level of privilege.

I grew up in the Midwest with native Chinese parents. Although they hung paintings of Kuan Yin in the living room, they weren’t spiritual types. They didn’t assemble altars with plastic light-up Buddhas, burn incense, or chant. Instead, they planted fruit trees in our yard, baked lasagna, and ballroom danced. Once, when I was a girl, I asked my mother about the Buddha. When she told me that he was a wealthy Indian prince who gave up everything he had, I decided that he couldn’t be trusted.

In my late 30s, I began to attend a Tibetan meditation center in Seattle. Soon, my sitting practice deepened. I chanted the Heart Sutra and I learned that the Buddha was indeed someone I could trust. But impatience hindered my budding practice. No sooner would I fold my legs into lotus pose and relax than I’d begin to fidget or drift off to sleep. When I did manage to stay awake, my mind would chatter away about the dental bill, the beastly project at work, and the benefits of espresso versus chai. Buddhism just didn’t seem to fit in with my American lifestyle. I was too busy and too occupied with modern distractions.

I told myself that all I needed was a journey to the motherland and click, my meditation practice would activate. What I needed was to go where people practiced Buddhism for real, lived it, and not because it was some trendy lifestyle promoted by celebrities or the spiritually correct.

This is quite an interesting mix, isn't it? A middle class Chinese-American woman finding in mid-life, of all things, Tibetan Buddhism, and then taking a trip to Tibet to "jump start" her practice.

It gets better.

The monk asks me where I am from. My guide translates between Tibetan and Mandarin.

"America," I reply.

The monks look puzzled. "America?" They lean in and glance at each other. "How can that be? She looks Chinese."

In all my travels in China, I’d never encountered this reaction. If anything, my response—that I was Chinese American—usually explained why my familiar accent was hitched to my odd grammar.

"My parents were born in China," I explain. Surely they’d heard this story before. But the monks stare at me, their faces riveted to mine. "But they moved to America. I was born there," I finish.

I might as well have said that I was born on Venus. "But she looks Chinese," they say again. They discuss this perplexing matter. I look at Zhuo Ma. She shrugs.

"Westerners have blonde hair and large bones," one monk insists to Zhuo Ma. "Her parents must look very
Chinese."

You gotta love how all these assumptions hit the fan here. The author's assumptions about what might constitute "real" instead of "trendy," as well as her views related to what the trip might do for her Buddhist practice. The monk's assumptions about who the author is and where she's from, as well as what they believed all "Westerners" look like.

If I had quoted only the second and third paragraph above from Ms. Tai's article, would have pictured a Chinese-American Buddhist practitioner who grew up in the U.S. Midwest?

Somehow, I bet not.

Buddhism and Wealth Continued: Liberating Economic Narratives

To continue yesterday's discussion about Buddhism and wealth, it seems to me that when faced with the enormity of situations like global economics, a few responses are commonplace. One is to go totally inward and focus only on yourself. Algernon called it the "inner peace fetish," wherein the view is basically that the world's fucked up and always will be, so I'll just try and create an oasis within myself. Another common response is to do the opposite. To jump on every last social issue on the planet, and try and offer your view, action, time, and money in an effort to put out the fire of suffering. A third common response is to try and combine pieces of the first two responses and then call that "the middle way."

Now, I have lived periods of my life in all three of these. I don't think any of these responses is completely wrong, and in fact, they each seem to contain elements of truth and awakening. But in the end, none of them feel whole to me anymore. They seem off the mark, ways of being that aren't unified expressions of the total dynamic functioning of this world of ours.

Turning away from the troubles of the outer world in search of an inner oasis is ultimately a false expression of renunciation.

Turning towards the troubles of the world, but away from the manifestations of your "inner" heart/mind is ultimately a false expression of compassion.

And cobbling together elements of both of these approaches is ultimately a false expression of the middle way.

In terms of wealth and right livelihood, one of the challenges I see is that too many of us, even many who are influenced by Buddhist teachings, look around at the larger social/economic environment and see it as a fixed story. Some love it, and say we've reached a pinnacle of wealth and innovation. Others hate it and see all the exploitation, suffering, and inequalities occurring. But for most of us, it's a stuck narrative and we talk about either trying to cope with all the shitty stuff, or about all the ways it might be beneficial (like developing new technologies to deal with energy crises.)

However, not only is this "global capitalist" narrative we have going on not permanent, but it's also not even all that old. It's a really tall tree with entirely short and weak roots. The roots are in our head; but they aren't embedded in our body/minds. So, while it's true that we have to do the hard work of facing what's going on now - it's also the case, in my view, that if enough of us do more deliberate pawing and clawing around those roots - through shifted thoughts and actions - that the tree could be tumbled to the ground.

In other words, we don't know what the future will look like. Not in our own life. Not in the ways in which our communities and nations will be held together, or broken apart. We don't know.

Two weeks ago, several thousand people in Japan woke up and went about their days in a regular fashion. A few days later, they were gone. Their houses: gone. Everything they owned and loved: gone.

Twenty five years ago, people in the former Soviet Union woke up every day and thought "This is it. We live in this Communist country. We can only do what we do." Some loved it. Many hated it. And there was a lot of suffering to go around.

How many of those people could have written the fast crumble that came?

How many had the audacity to orient their lives from some deeper place, and imagine something different?

There had to be some folks with that audacity. Just as there are folks today trying to shift their orientation and imagine something different from global capitalism.
But this is big sounding stuff - probably befuddling to a lot of us. I feel befuddled by it fairly often myself.

Which brings me back to two commenters on yesterday's post, Richard and David, who both basically pointed to the fact that individuals need to each make the pivot in their lives, in order for social change on a massive scale to occur. And I think, ultimately, that this is true. That change might be incubated alone. It might be incubated in collective silence. It might be incubated while in the middle of collective action.

Returning to the original topic, whenever you talk about economics from a Buddhist perspective, renunciation somehow comes into the picture. So, here are two questions to consider.

What are the marks of renunciation? Do they look the same for each person?

Liberating economic narratives, narratives around how to work with the movement of material stuff in the world, doesn't seem to be any different from liberating anything else. And renunciation is a big part of it. Although I'd argue that renunciation may not be at all what we think it is.

So, perhaps an exploration of renunciation is in order. May your meditations be fruitful.

Buddhism and Wealth

I have long struggled with how to consider material wealth within the context of Buddhist teachings. One reason is that unlike many of my fellow American converts, I have experienced some "poorness," have always lived on the financial edge, and have worked with, and heard the stories of poor people much of my life. I frequently see the unexamined classism in the larger convert Buddhism community, and wonder how much of that impacts the way we interpret Buddhist teachings on money and material wealth.

There is a small discussion over at the Tricycle blog about all of this. It takes off from a recent column by Lewis Richmond in the Huffington Post. Lewis wrote:

In my 1999 book, Work as a Spiritual Practice, I introduced the idea of right livelihood as conscious livelihood. In other words, regardless of our job (or lack of a job) we should be aware of the implications and consequences of what we do. Though Work as a Spiritual Practice, by intention, emphasized the choices and changes an individual could make in his/her workplace, I also feel that conscious livelihood should not be limited to individual awareness and action. Society at large also has a responsibility to be conscious of the consequences of its economic and employment policies, even more today than in 1999 when when the economy was booming. It is not clear whether the Buddha thought of right livelihood in this way, but it behooves us to do so now.

I read his book perhaps three years ago. It's pretty decent, and asks some important questions about what work is, how we do it, and what Buddhism might have to say about it.

However, the larger questions around accumulation of wealth, what constitutes "need," how teachings about Right Livelihood fuction (or don't function) in a globalized capitalist environment aren't addressed as head on as I would have liked.

Nor are they in this current article.

Clearly, the Buddha saw prosperity and financial security as a good and appropriate activity for laypeople; "rightful means" meant any occupation that did not cause unnecessary harm to other living things. In the simple economy of 500 B.C. this meant avoiding occupations such as butcher, tanner, or soldier -- if possible. It also meant to be honest and ethical in business dealings -- not to cheat, steal or lie, and in general make one's living in an upstanding way. I daresay that all religions have ethical principles of this sort regarding making one's living -- certainly the Judeo-Christian tradition does.

I'm not sure what he means by "prosperity and financial security" here, but I'm not sure the Buddha was all that concerned about "security" of any kind. Why? It doesn't really exist. Beyond this, though, the word "prosperity" in the average American mind, even amongst Buddhists, means having a lot of stuff, a good job, retirement funds, and the rest. And when all of that is "yours" - in the relative sense - it's pretty easy to have a lot of attachment, which certainly isn't too helpful in term of liberation.

A commenter called Wtompepper on the Tricycle blog post who earlier had questioned the accumulation of wealth we tend to support in the U.S. - even amongst middle class types - wrote the following interesting response:

I don't think I've ever heard Buddha referred to as a pragmatist, or the "middle way" compared to pragmatism. I cannot imagine you mean that in the true sense of pragmatism. However, there is no need to "tie oneself in knots" avoiding anything--instead, just DO something that makes such knot tying less necessary. I hear the "tying in knots" argument all the time; it is too hard to figure out how to make the world better, so we all want to think that Buddha would have thought everything we are doing is just fine, and that all we need to do is avoid things we already wouldn't do (slavery, weapons trading); but we can't just feel better about ourselves through ignorance. Well, we maybe can, but that's not awakening. Didn't Buddha also say "Strive with diligence"?

And I really think it is important to remember the difference in historical period. Buddha recommends that lay people produce wealth, but he could not possibly have meant investing in the stock market. Remember that money was a very recent invention, and it is the coining of money Buddha is referring to with the term "gold and silver." The accumulation of wealth in a pre-monetary economy meant producing more useful goods and storing food, not having a 401k. Buddha does encourage such production, but warns against the delusion of money, for anyone hoping to become enlightened.

It's interesting to think about the abstractions that have come into the wealth equation in modern society. Paper and coin money. Stocks. Bonds. Credit Cards. Derivatives. I think it's true that the historical Buddha wasn't talking about these things, but the fact is they are here, part of a lay life - so now what? How do you work with them in a way that exemplifies Right Livelihood?

I have often thought that after a certain point, we should figure out ways to pool our surplus wealth to use for developing/supporting our communities. That what is already happening with skill swaps, free exchanges like Freecycle, and grassroots money pooling should become the norm.

This is where things get really sticky I think. "Buddha does encourage such production, but warns against the delusion of money, for anyone hoping to become enlightened." And I'd argue, he warned against the "delusion of money," not necessarily against having money for lay folks. But that same argument I have heard taken as a license for millionaires to keep squirreling money away, or for huge corporations to rake in billions and justify that by offering millions in charity.

And one of the problems I have always had with this is that you end up with a small number of wealthy folks determining a large part of what is "socially good." A single couple, Bill and Melinda Gates, have the power and financial resources to decide what's worth spending money on, and what isn't. There is something greatly screwed up about this in my view. Some might say they are bodhisattvas in the world, but it often seems more like paternalism to me.

What do you think about all of this? How do material wealth, especially accumulating wealth as individuals, fit into Buddhist teachings? Is the pursuit of relative financial "security" always a hindrance, or is that a new "necessity?" What is Right Livelihood to you?