Three Kinds of Anger

I came across this little commentary by Phra Maha Vuthichai Vachiramethi about three kinds of anger on the Tricycle blog (Three Kinds of Anger).

Anger may manifest itself in the following ways:





- Like a line drawn across water, anger that disappears quickly.

- Like a line drawn in the sand, disappearing when a wave washes ashore.

- Like a line carved into a stone, surviving all kinds of weather conditions over thousands and thousands of years.

Anger is not a physical entity, but once it appears, its destructive potential is far more devastating than any nuclear weapon.

It got me thinking about the formless atonement verse I chant every night before bed. At some point about a year and a half ago, I decided that even if I didn't sit, do walking meditation, or any other deliberate practice during the day, at least I would end the day chanting the following three times:

All my ancient twisted karma
from beginningless greed, hate, and delusion
born of my body, speech, and thought
I now fully avow.

In some ways, I see this chant as a broom. When the day is done, I sweep away the dust that has accumulated as a result of my actions.

In other ways, I view it as a promise. When the day is done, I'm reminding myself of the vows I have taken, and am readying myself for a new start in the morning.

In light of the Vachiramethi quote above, this chant can also be viewed as a means of breaking though, if only for a short time, some of that longer held anger - the kind that cuts across the generations. Every effort we can make to disrupt these kinds of patterns is important, even if we have no idea how long it might take to break down those lines drawn across the stones of our lives.

Blown About by the Wind

Well, autumn has ripped straight through the fairly warm, dry air we had been having here in Minnesota. Yesterday afternoon, rain arrived, wind gusts over 40 mph arrived, and temperatures dropped a good 25 degrees in a matter of a few hours. The wind gusts continued today, and the weather forecast called for overnight lows only a few degrees above freezing. How things can change quickly.

Potting the tender perennial herbs in my garden to take into the house this evening, I noticed how I was rushing. In fact, like most of the day, a low grade irritation was eating at me, producing stories filled with little, nasty comments in them about how things weren't moving fast enough, or weren't going right. Isn't it funny how the mind can mirror the weather! Here I am bending over a little pot, trying to fit a bulging lemon balm plant into it, thinking "Damn thing is too big; now my hands are covered with dirt too." I love gardening; I even enjoy having soil covered hands, a very obvious connection to the planet. And yet, this prosperous lemon balm plant and the soil attached to it meant nothing to me but another problem I had to solve quickly. Why quickly? No reason at all. I didn't need to hurry. There was plenty of time to survey the garden, locate what needed to come in, and re-pot it before the sun went down. But I didn't want to deal with it. I had just finished work, had missed the connecting bus, had to sew a little tear in my backpack, and get over to my mother's place, where the garden is. It sounds like a lot, but it really wasn't. I just made it feel like a lot by buying into the "not having enough time" story, and letting my mind be blown about by the wind.

As they usually do, the plants taught me something. Looking at the neighboring lemon balm, which was even larger, I realized it was time to slow down. I took a few breaths, and then put the blade of the shovel in and carved around what had become a little bush over the past four months. I'm always amazed how quickly lemon balm grows, and how just a few dashes of the hand through the middle of the plant gives off a wonderfully strong lemon scent. Of course, it probably shouldn't be much of a
surprise that lemon balm is a calming herb, a perfect thing to make tea with after a long, stressful day. I snipped a few leaves off, and savored their flavor as I plunked the rest of the plant into a large bucket. Then it was on to the Thai pepper, lemongrass, and sage plants down the row.

They're now tucked safely on the front porch. A few might not make it because that's what seems to happen every year. The rest are settling into their new, temporary homes. Isn't this just like our own lives? - seemingly grounded, but really just a series of transplantings, each one an attempt to set down the roots that have, in the vast scheme of things, always been there.

Wild West Zen

I just finished reading the comments section on a recent post by Zen Teacher Brad Warner (Bye-Bye Tokio). It's probably been two months since I have looked at his blog, primarily because it was easier to find drama and pissing matches than dharma discussion. Of course, you can learn a lot from drama and pissing matches, but they're everywhere, so why go looking for them in dharma blogs.

Opening the post above, though, and seeing the lengthy exchange below it - 185 comments to date - was like stepping into a wild west movie. I say movie because it's hard to tell what's real and what's not, and the whole thing unfolds so much like a movie script, complete with chattering extras adding their two cents to the drama.

Some of you may know that there seems to be a long standing conflict/drama between Brad Warner and another dharma heir of Gudo Wafu Nishijima, who is known for, among other things, his excellent translation of Dogen's Shobogenzo (which he completed with fellow translator Chodo Cross). This conflict is at the center of the comments made on the post by Brad Warner above.

The drama unfolds complete with a set of letters that supposedly were exchanged between Warner and Nishijima, during which Warner resigns as head of the Dogen Sangha International(Establishment of Dogen Sangha). The kicker is that Jundo Cohen, the other dharma heir, was cc'ed on all the messages, and decides to make them public by posting them on Warner's blog.

I can see it now: James Bond as Dogen 07. As the camera pans in on the squabbling zen students and their teachers, Dogen 07 leaps into the center of the screen, wearing a Dogen Sangha International t-shirt, and pointing his trusty gun at the villainous zen teacher (you pick which one). The villainous zen teacher drops his incense, and throws his hands in the air, clearly scared. Dogen 07 cocks the trigger of his gun and says "You forgot, venerable one, to forget the self!"

Throughout the months I have been blogging, I have noticed how much people seem to gravitate towards drama, myself included. A few conflictual comments can easily turn into a full scale, online fight in a matter of hours. This is true in real life as well, which makes me wonder if people struggle to actually enjoy peace. Most all of us talk about wanting peace, and yet how easily we seem to get bored with it. Quiet, beautiful sunsets, or everyday chores like sweeping the floor, are just fine for awhile. But if a car crash, domestic dispute, football brawl, or loud action film is available, how quickly many of us (zen teachers included) will drop the calm and peaceful and run straight for the drama.

It's something to look into, this desire to stir up the shit, instead of staying with what is present. And in the meantime, maybe I should start writing the Dogen 07 screenplay, just in case the quiet sunset doesn't hold up.

Dharmic Internet Dating?

I stumbled across this article by an editor of Tricycle magazine about "dharma" internet dating(Dharma Dating). Having done way more than my share of internet dating over the past six years, I was definitely laughing and agreeing a lot with Anne Cushman's comments about her own experiences. Here are a few lines in particular, though, that struck me.

Perhaps dating is just a way to practice keeping the door of my heart open to intimacy - without attachment to results. In the process, I can notice the habits of contraction that keep me feeling separate from other people: judgments, expectations, fears, busyness, guilt, chronic feelings of insecurity or superiority.

As the regular readers of this blog know, I'm one who tries to see the dharma in everything. Not that this is an easy task all the time, but it definitely is more effective than constantly dismissing things, or people, or experiences as meaningless. So, dating is yet another dharma field - in my opinion, a kind of strange, chameleon-like dharma field.

One of the things Anne Cushman is how, when you meet people in the flesh, you spin stories around them based on what you see and experience. There's some initial connection, whether it's simply sexual attraction, shared interests, or something deeper than that. However, when you meeting someone after seeing a profile and e-mailing online, your mind ends up creating a story about everything. Although you have more information about the person in a certain sense, you have none of the tactile, concrete, on the ground information that often makes or breaks both love relationships and friendships.

When you pay closer attention to all of this, there is a wide field of dharma hanging out here, waiting to be tapped into. First of all, the identity issue I spoke about in the last post comes up constantly. How do you present yourself on-line? Does it at all match who you really are? Can it ever? Second, there is a ton of "picking and choosing" going on. Now, you most definitely have to do some of that, but it's amazing how easy it is to dismiss people you have never met for trivial things you'd never dismiss in real life. And at the same time, it's also amazing how easy it is to get attached to other things someone says. Actually, attached is too light a word - obsessed to the point of blindness is probably more accurate. "She's a Buddhist too, we must be a match in heaven!" "Oh, my god! She uses the word 'partnership' in her profile, and loves to read dharma books by the lake under the full moon. Me too!" Third, all of your self-absorbed qualities get plucked in this process as well. You write in your profile that your kind and patient, and then during the date, you have an argument about politics. She writes that she has been practicing Buddhism for a long time, and then you discover that she actually only reads about it in magazines like Tricycle, and thinks that "it's a bunch of cool ideas" she'd like to follow some day. And finally, there's the good old red thread - sex. Only the rude or overly aggressive bring it up on a first date - unless, of course, it was the stated goal of both parties from the beginning. And yet, unlike meeting people in real life, the whole sex issue coupled with on-line dating is almost guaranteed to produce some wacky off-spring. Some want to maintain a "pure" image in the beginning, and worry that any talk about sex will automatically make them appear to be sex crazed. So, they date for awhile, start to really like each other, but then find themselves faced with a wall of anxiety concerning sex because going there might "ruin" the image they have created. Some never say a word about sex, but end up in bed with each other after a few hours over dinner and then wonder why, a few weeks later, they can't stand each other. (This is different from the in person fling or one night stand because, at least in theory, these people have some common interests and should have something to talk about.) Still others don't talk about sex, but then drop a person after a few dates when the sex doesn't happen. And then there are those who state "I just want to be friends in the beginning," which is definitely a good sentiment, but because the whole thing began on a blind date, creates an awkward energy around sexuality and physical intimacy. After awhile, one or both people start to wonder if they are "just friends" or if "it's something more." This happens in real life meetings as well, and the line is often blurry no matter what. However, at least in real life, there is more of a chance for a natural progression from friendship to love relationship. The friendship wasn't artificially imposed as a means of slowing things down, in other words.

What's really comical is that, even though I have been on and off the online dating thing, I have ended up dating only one woman I met online for longer than a month. The three year relationship I had during the middle of that six year period was a woman who I met through a friend. However, I can't completely dismiss the online factor because the friend and I had been talking about online dating when he brought up the woman I would eventually spend three years of my life with.

And yet, I have found many teachings out the process of dating strangers I have met online. It's taught me plenty about myself, as well as what I really value in a potential partner. But I do hope that someday, this part of my life goes offline for the duration.

The Rotten Floorboards of Identity

In the old version of Dogen's commentary to the precepts our sangha used to chant was the following line attached to the seven precept (Not elevating oneself above others) - "when the dharma body is manifested, there is not even a single square inch of earth upon which to stand." I've always gravitated to this line for some reason, even in the earliest days of my practice. Why? I don't entirely know, but this image of "not even a single square inch of earth" has always been a felt thing for me. It trips up all the talk and naming that we do because it points to the life beyond names and naming.

Yesterday, I resigned my position on the board of directors of the ESL school I helped start five and a half years. It was a very difficult decision that came after several nights of fitful sleep that kept pointing me in that direction. Today, I walked into my workplace - another ESL school - and watched a few more floorboards crack in half. At least three of us (out of a staff of 12) are considering leaving soon. We spent part of the morning arguing about standardized tests, and then during the afternoon gave those very same exams to our learners. The school has no functioning strategic plan, a board of directors led by people who are still living out the "good old days," dysfunctional executive leadership, and is struggling to bring in enough money to keep up with the needs of the place. Even though I haven't left yet, my days are most likely very numbered there.

I have been an ESL teacher for the better part of the last 11 years. Many people know me primarily as a guy who is passionate about adult education and immigrants, so much so that he has been willing to volunteer hundreds of hours over the years to "the cause." But now, here I am, in the middle of this identity disappearing. It might even be on it's deathbed, for all I know.

I've watched the reactions to my resignation from the first school. Confusion. Shock. Lots of questions. It's so obvious living in the middle of all this how strongly we attach to identities, both our own and those we impose on others. I deliberately chose the word "impose" because that's often exactly what is being done.

We so want to peg each other down, and then when the other person fails to fit the image we have, we do all kinds of things to either try and make them get back in the box, or to get them out, out, out of our lives.

But let's face it - there's never been a single square inch of earth upon which to stand. Every last attempt to label someone, to know someone completely through and through using words, is a rotten board. That doesn't mean that we toss out labels all together - no, that would be silly, and rather sad. However, as long as you, or I, believe that we have someone else, or even ourselves, totally pegged as a zen student, or mother, or teacher, or jackass, or liar, or absolute saint - as long as we believe these labels, we're living in a house built of rotten boards soon to crack, split, and crumble.

I'm getting the sense that a lot of the grief I'm experiencing right now, as well as a lot of the stress, is tied directly to the back and forth between letting the labels dissolve and rushing back to shore them up somehow. Sticking with this mess is not easy at all; parts of my body are riddled with pain right now. However, I'm taking this as a place to experiment with Dogen's line, to do my best to be in that place of groundlessness, without knowing at all where I am.

Commenting on Blog Posts as a Dharma Practice

I have been making a lot of comments on blog posts today. I also have really gotten into reading the comments made on posts as well, finding so much to learn in the dialogues that occur. Some people are generous with kind words and support. Others are very generous with sharing what they have learned through their practice. Still others are full of scholarly information that help set straight what has been presented. And then there is the conflict, which is all over the board.

There have been some amazing debates filled with intelligent point/counterpoint positions that, when viewed by the rest of us, are aids to enhancing our understanding and experience of the dharma. There are also other posts that I've seen quickly fill up with nastiness, brutal personal attacks and rage-filled tirades. As Jack over at Sweep the Dust, Push the Dirt said to me recently, "I don't agree with the removal of the worst (and sometimes) most honest comments. We learn from them and we learn to argue better or at least to be more accepting of others."

So, I have come to believe that commenting on blogs is a dharma practice. Actually, this isn't too much of a leap for me because I try to see everything in this way. Dharma practice isn't just the sitting and chanting I did this morning with my zen community, or the sitting and chanting I do before bed almost every night. It's every moment, even though for most of us, myself included, there's a lot of forgetting and getting swept up in the current samsara.

I have written about the subject of "digital practice" before - (Online Practice?). However, I really have been noticing the ways in which commenting on posts bring out the best and worst in us.

Here are a few issues that fall on the "worst" side, as well as some thoughts and questions about each. I'd like to think that even though I am focusing on online commenting, this could also apply in certain ways to all speech, and how we relate to others in our "in the flesh" lives.

1. Loudly angry, bordering on rage-filled comments - you know the ones. They're filled with cussing, capital letters, broad accusations, and sometimes personal attacks. Now, I don't really think there is a clear line that can be drawn between comments that have some justifiable anger in them, and those which are simply inflammatory. I like to cuss now and then in my posts, for example, and feel it's not really so much about cussing as it is about intent, and how the other might read the comment. I think it's important to get a sense of the writer first, by reading some of their posts, and seeing how they respond to others' comments. Some people enjoy fiery banter, and seem to have no trouble with a bit of anger or intellectual scathing for example. Others don't handle it so well. Which leads me to number two.

2. Defensive responses to comments on your own post - I think all of us have certain issues that might prompt a defensive response. I know I have had a few during the months I've been blogging. And clearly, on a basic level, defensiveness is an easy pointer to the attachment and clinging that we're all working with in our lives. However, beyond that, think of all the energy drain that comes from back and forth arguments that stem from defensive posturing on the part of the blogger who made the post.

Now, I'm not talking about clarifying misinterpretations here. I'm talking about the "how dare you question my view" type of energy. Having been in a few of these pissing matches myself, I have started the practice of asking the following question concerning my own posts: "What is the goal or intent of your comment here?" This really has seemed to help slow me down, and see when I'm just wanting to one up someone who said something snarky or disagreeable to me.

In addition, I have also been using this question when responding on others' blogs, so as not to add any more muck to the pond. (Of course, no matter what one does, there will be muck, but it's worth the effort to try and reduce it.)

3. Rapid Fire Responses - the speed of the internet allows people all over the world to make comments to each other other in a matter of seconds. This is pretty cool, but also can be dangerous. How often have you gotten in trouble in your "in the flesh" life by saying something you didn't think through first? It's really no different online, and unlike in person, where your body language and relationship with the person can inform what's being said, online it's only words, so the languaging is very important. what I find interesting is that an initial reaction to a post can actually be quite fleeting. You might get triggered by a phrase, sentence, or paragraph, and then later look back and see that you actually really like what the post has to say. Or you might simply misread something because you were multitasking at work. There are endless possibilities, but if you respond based on that initial reaction, then you have the extra work of apologizing or re-framing your comments at a later time. And sure, there's value in cleaning up one's messes, but I'd rather make fewer messes in the first place.

4. Humor that falls flat and causes confused or conflictual responses - I really think humor is tricky online. I'll throw a few lines or phrases I think are funny in my posts, but I generally delete as many "funny" lines as I end up posting. Those who are able to be consistently funny are gifts to us all. And if you can't laugh at your practice and at Buddhism in general sometimes, then I think you're in trouble. However, when it comes to commenting on others' blogs, I think it's helpful to ask yourself if the other person might think what you want to say is funny. Sometimes, it's obvious and spontaneous and you don't have to think about it much. Other times, it isn't so clear. I know I have used humor on occasion to either get attention or to shift attention away from things I find uncomfortable. These seem to be the exact places where trouble arises because the humor is self-focused, and not about providing joy and laughter to those around you.

How does one fully live the Buddha Way as a householder in the 21st century? How does one move from having a practice to being the practice in every moment? These are a few of the questions I'm most interested in these days. And if the practice is to truly include on-line experiences, then I really think it's important to give some thought as to how these two questions might apply. This is not to say we should hesitate and ponder endlessly about every comment we make online. It's more about paying closer attention to what we are doing, no matter where that action is taking place.

Getting Old Or Aging Gracefully?

Some of the regular readers may know that I'm kind of a split practitioner - a zen student yogi might be the best way to put it. When you take yoga from it's complete practice, and not just as the high buck exercise craze that has swept across North America, the similarities between yoga and zen are many. Which shouldn't be a surprise since Buddhism and Hinduism are close cousins (Hinduism the older cousin), and forms of yoga have been part of both traditions.

So, I was inspired by the comments of a long time yoga teacher, Patricia Walden, in an article from the current issue of Yoga Journal. Yoga Journal is an interesting publication. In a single issue you can move from the absolutely fluffy, feel good talk of self help land, to terribly loud, glossy advertisements, to very detailed descriptions of physical postures, to nuggets of deep wisdom. In a lot of ways, the conflicts in the Yoga world are very similar to those in the Buddhist world, but that is probably worthy of another post all together.

The comments of Patricia Walden have to do with aging, yoga practice, and the spiritual life.

Sometimes I'll wake up stiff and wonder what my body will feel like if I start doing backbends. Then I begin practicing, and I forget that I'm 62.

That first sentence is so indicative of the "small-self" doubt we all experience a.t times. It's so easy to just believe the story that you can't do something, because for one, it allows you to stay in the comfort zone.

And notice how, when she is practicing, she stops identifying with the woman who is 62 - in other words, the "old woman." And what's fascinating is that she does this not through becoming disconnected or suppression, but through completely embodying her life as it is.

As we get older, we have to be careful of the tricks our minds can play on us. Sometimes your mind tells you to be careful for good reason, but sometimes it's telling you that your body can't do something that it can do.

I see these tricks even in my own life, and I'm still a fairly young pup. I've been practicing yoga for over a decade now, and yet I'm still mostly afraid to do inversions like headstand and handstand. The rare times I do actually attempt them, I find that I get into the pose, and then talk myself out of being in the pose. It's pretty damn interesting! I'm upsidedown in handstand and my mind is chattering about how I can't do it still.

And this teaching definitely applies to other areas of my life. The "I can't do it" mantra is so pervasive at times that it can dig its way into everything. And what interesting about this is that, when that mantra is running strong, I find that I am more judgmental and less accepting of both myself and others.

Even though we know it isn't effective, we often try to talk people into what we think they should be doing. That's a prison. It takes time to plant new samskaras (patterns). There is such freedom in letting people do what they want to do.

Think of all the energy wasted on trying to talk people into doing something, believing something. We all do it to some extent, but i think one of the benefits of aging gracefully is waking up to the fact that you don't have to try to control the world. In fact, it's pointless to try and control the world. I'm still working on that one. Some days, I'm pretty accepting. Other days, not so much.

There is such freedom in letting people do what they want to do.

This sentence disembodied from the rest of Walden's comments is troubling. But when you look at everything she is saying, the sentence is pointing at a liberation from needing to fix everything. Sure, if someone is doing something destructive, you might say something, or do something in order to try and jolt them. However, in the end, it's up to that other person to awaken to the destructiveness of their thoughts and behavior. You can't do it for them.

This might be a useful reminder for those of us who are regulars in the on-line world. There's plenty of damaging talk floating about in the relatively anonymous cyberspace, but beyond a certain point, it's really impossible to do a whole lot to change that. I make comments now and then when I think they might be helpful, but otherwise it seems the only beneficial thing I can do is to watch my own behavior, and the intent behind my comments. I've erased plenty of comments over the past year I quickly realized were driven by spite, or a desire to "one up" someone. Sometimes, some of that energy still slips through, but hey, that's why practice never truly ends.

Things can change at a moment. Why not be happy now?

There's a good mantra to replace the "I can't do it" mantra. It's so hard to remember sometimes, but really, why not be happy now. What's holding you back?