Challenges of Generosity

The paramita of generosity is a great teaching for our time. (Or any time, but let's stick with our time for now.) Whether one gives material goods, deep listening, or a few words of dharma, the ability to share with others in a non-attached, open way is one of the most underrated qualities I can think of in the wild and crazy world of ours today.

And yet, I think it's important to examine both how we define generosity, and also the differing levels of impediments that hinder people from being giving in their lives. It is commonplace, at least in my country, to immediately link generosity with money and other material gifts. This doesn't mean people totally ignore non-material gifts, but from what I have seen, material gifts tend to be highly privileged. For example, the IRS provides tax breaks for people who donate money or valuable material goods to non-profits and other charity organizations. If I give X number of hours to the same organizations, I cannot expect to receive anything equivalent, unless, perhaps, if I work for a large corporation that offers incentives to its employees in exchange for their service, which is considered a "gift" to the corporation's public image.

Now, here's one of the rubs. Everything I described above seems to be giving that has some attachment laden in it. Wanting tax breaks for donations isn't freely giving. Corporations wanting good public images, and more profits as a result, taints the giving being done in their name. And beyond all of this, there is a continued emphasis on some sort of material value to giving, which is not in line with the depth of the teachings on generosity in Buddhism.

Khentin Tai Situ Rinpoche offers a short teaching on the paramita of generosity, beginning with this:

The practice of generosity is to give what is worthwhile and to give it with non-attachment. This can be studied through three main aspects: giving things, giving loving protection and giving loving understanding. The teaching on the first of these, material generosity, explains what is proper generosity and what is improper. We should abandon improper generosity and practice the proper one.

Motivation is very important when we give. If we give with a wrong motivation, such as making gifts which we hope will harm others or which we intend to bring us fame, or if we give with an inferior motivation such as through fear of future poverty, then that is improper. What we actually give is also important. A Bodhisattva should never give what is harmful, for instance, when he gives something suitable it should be generously, not meanly. To whom we give to is important - always pandering to the wishes of the crazy and the gluttonous would not be proper generosity. Finally, how we make our gift is important. The Bodhisattva avoids reluctant giving, angry giving, disrespectful giving and scornful, derisory giving, all of which are improper.

When it comes to living in societies that obsessively link giving with material value, and by extension with power, I think it's pretty challenging to tease out proper giving from improper giving. In fact, I'd argue it's challenging for many of us to actually see generosity when it's occurring because we have accepted a certain definition of giving, and any action that falls outside of that definition isn't even considered. In other words, generosity is happening all over the place, but our conditioned minds just leap right past it, over and over again.

Consider these lines from a recentpost on the blog Feministe:

Which brings us to the idea of a gift economy. [Seth] Godin suggests, and I think he means well, that a gift economy is something like an exchange of acts of great art and generosity without expectation of return. He suggests that it creates a virtuous circle of gift exchange that turns the givers into indispensable people who, in the natural course of things will eventually be rewarded.

What would a gift economy look like? What does it have to do with women’s pay?

In 1995, the United Nations estimated that women around the world generated work for which they were not paid to the tune of $11 trillion, or $15 trillion in 2007 dollars, as Raj Patel notes in his book, “The Value of Nothing.” Patel says that in 1995, “The daily work of rearing children, maintaining a household and engaging in civic work … [was worth] more than half the world’s total output.”

Godin suggests that offering wonderful, useful work as a gift will eventually draw a reward. Yet women’s gifts of necessary work, often microtargeted to the exact needs of a particular family, not only bring little compensation, they’re often barely noticed.

Now, certainly in these days, some men have joined the ranks of extensive family caregiving. However, women still do by far the majority of this kind of work, and yet how often do you hear people speak the word "generosity" when it comes to raising children, for example? There are, by extension, a whole array of activities that are either ignored or downplayed by societies which are, in fact generous. Deep listening to another who is suffering. Helping neighbors with basic chores. Telling funny stories to sick children. All hospital volunteer work or caregiving to sick folks. Offering kind words to stranger.

And it goes beyond gifts to people. Liberating animals, planting trees on formerly damaged lands, and simply limiting your general impact on the planet - all of these, too, can be acts of generosity.

Materially driven societies, however, aren't apt to uphold these kinds of actions because frequently have no "value," don't add to the "bottom line," and in some cases, actually hinder the all mighty "productivity and growth" that are seen as keys to a successful nation.

So, for many of us, cultivating true generosity requires that we run against the grain of our entire society. It requires that we break through the conditioning we have around what it means to be generous, and how such generosity looks. And it requires that we let go of getting anything in return.

At the same time, I believe we have to be more engaged about generosity on a social level. By doing what? I'm not sure exactly. But maybe a good place to start is to be more generous with what you see as generous. Second, be willing to call out acts of generosity that are normally ignored or downplayed. Third, it might be helpful to recognize that women, for example, probably have more of their generosity ignored collectively than men do. Or that acts of generosity by poor folks are often rendered invisible by the current social standards and mores.

At the end of the day, wanting to be recognized for acts of generosity is an attachment, and thus a hindrance to actually being generous. However, that absolute perspective must be balanced by paying close attention to, and working with, conditions in the relative, everyday world.

Zen Forms and Everyday Life

This morning's talk at the zen center was given by our elder lay statesman, who recently turned 70 years old. There are plenty of kind things I could say about him, especially how his focused, humble dedication to the various Zen forms and practices is such an inspiration to many of us in the community. However, today I just want to speak about something simple, which actually on the surface, might appear to "break form."

When I arrived in the zendo this morning, one of the usual zabutons (sitting cushion) at the front of the room was replaced by a chair. It was a small detail, but I noticed the difference right away, and thought about the debates I've seen online about meditation posture.

As Ken began his talk, he pointed to the chair and said "this is one of our new chairs - it was made for chello players - and so it has a nice upright back on it, good for zazen practice." Now, I know he had just led a one day retreat the day before, and perhaps his knees were tired from all that sitting. Thus, the chair. But he said nothing about that. Just pointed to the benefit of the chair for meditation practice, and then sat down and gave his talk.

To me, this was a great demonstration of our way. Not a lot of fussing about, and focusing in on the heart of the matter. And it also gave everyone in the room this morning permission to relax about form, even as he also emphasized the importance of form as well. You can sit upright and be fully attentive to your unfolding life in many different ways - including in a chair.

Not too tight, not too loose. Have you heard that before?

It's important to remember that there are forms and rituals mapped out for us in very specific ways. And then there is our everyday lives, unfolding as they do, swallowing every map we try to make or use, and spitting out something else entirely.

Being Stingy With Discomfort

Over at Notes from a Burning House, Algernon offers a somewhat different take on the issues of race and religious intolerance. It's a refreshing, dharma-centric post that includes the following:

Discussions of race are hard because there is a stigma about feeling uncomfortable. If you admit that you feel uncomfortable with people who look, smell, or live differently than you do, someone might jump on you and equate you with the KKK. So people don't "go there." And it's a shame, because "going there" in an atmosphere of compassion and wisdom would really clear the air, benefit us as individuals and a society.

But admitting to discomfort and living with discomfort are, in themselves, troubling ideas. We are trained to believe that happiness is the elimination of discomfort. Impossible, kids. This idea of "happiness" itself arises from the noble truth of discomfort.

It is okay to be uncomfortable with the Islamic community center in lower Manhattan, even though they have a right to build it. It is okay to be uncomfortable with Glenn Beck's rally, too, but if you're feeling angry -- have a read of Dr. King's speech. The sad love for humanity in that speech, and its great purpose, extend to the Glenn Beck followers of the world, too.

I totally agree with Algernon that we need to be willing to "go there" more often. It's an essential step, both individually and collectively, to making peace. Not some powder puff, shiny happy people kind of peace, but true peace - the kind that comes through a liberation of hearts and minds.

Let's step back from these large scale issues, and look at the more mundane, daily life kind of experiences.

When you sit zazen, how often does discomfort arise? And when it comes, how do you approach it?

When you are with family or friends, how often does discomfort arise, and how do you approach it when it comes?

When you are with co-workers or others you know, but not very well, how often does discomfort arise, and how do you approach it when it comes?

When you are with strangers, how often does discomfort arise and how do you approach it when it comes?

Is there any situation in life that is free of discomfort? Don't just believe Algernon's comments above about discomfort, check for yourself. Start with yourself, when you are alone, or not deliberately engaged with others.

I'm really interested in this issue of not "going there." How so many of us, myself included, get hooked on the idea that the best life is one free of discomfort and dis-ease. And how when those things are present, we either press them into hiding, or we exaggerate the hell out of one surface aspect. The eighth precept speaks about not being stingy with anything, but how many of us practitioners actually share freely our experiences of discomfort and disease? And even more importantly, do so in a way that isn't imposing or dumping upon others?

When I look at all of this through the eighth precept, it's pretty clear to me that I'm often possessive, often stingy when it comes to discomforts and disease. Sharing these experiences, especially when they are full blown in the moment often scares the crap out of me. I don't want to appear to be a mess. Sometimes, I fear rejection. Other times, I'm worried about having to fend off unwanted offers of "help." Mostly though, when I think about it, I'm stingy because I don't expect anyone to truly listen to whatever is occurring for me - and unfortunately, this is often the case in life.

The reality is that every moment of sharing is a moment of risk taking. There's no way to know how anything you say or do will be taken, even by your mother, lifelong partner, or best friend. So, all you can really do is assess the situation, feel out if the timing might be right, and then decide whether to share or not.

I think a large part of the reason why the big social issues go round and round with variations on the same old story is that each of is doing much the same in our own lives. Leaping on fear and hate bandwagons is so much easier than sitting with a sense of being exiled from one's self, which is another way to look at discomfort.

How often does exile arise for you, and when it comes, how do you approach it?

I plan on sitting with this question for awhile. If you'd like, please join me.

Race, Racism, and the Buddhoblogosphere

As seems to be the case about every three or four months, there has been a lot of discussion in the Buddhoblogosphere about race, racism, and dharma practice. It's very telling how race and racism tend to tip over people who otherwise demonstrate clear thinking and compassion in their words. People just struggle terribly with these issues.

Obviously, the generations and generations of hatred and ignorance spawned by both individual and systemic racism aren't going to suddenly disappear. It's going to take a hell of a lot more listening, a hell of a lot more refraining from spouting off from whatever woundedness we each have, and a hell of a lot more willingness to change (individually and collectively) in order for a more just world to emerge.

Here are a few quotes from different posts addressing the race and racism. The first is from a more secular source, the blog Feministe. Tami, a woman of color, writes:

Today, when an “ism” shows its face, too much public sympathy rests with the offender and not the offended. As I’ve written before, in these times, hearing someone branded a racist is likely to upset more folks than encountered racism. Stick any bias in there–sexism, homophobia, transphobia, xenophobia…and the result is the same. It is, I think, the way the status quo defends itself when it gets tired of treating certain people equally.

One thing I will quibble with is labeling "people" racist because it's really a particular set of thoughts, words, and actions that are racist, and not any entire person. In addition, anyone wanting to have a dialogue with others whose thoughts, words, and/or actions are racist probably shouldn't begin with labeling said folks "racist."

With that said, I really find Tami's points so painfully true, at least in the United States right now. The reality, President Obama notwithstanding, is that the lion's share of power and privilege in this country still lies with white folks, individually and collectively. The historical legacy, which continues to play out today, very clearly favored white Americans in every sense from the nation's founding. This is our collective karma, whether you like it or not. As a white male, even though I have had my struggles, and have experienced direct injustice, it in no way, shape or form is equivalent to that of people of color living in my nation. I don't walk around feeling guilty about this, but I do make every effort to listen, pause, and re-examine my views around these issues - precisely because as a member of the most privileged group in my society, it's so easy for me not to. Just as the practice of meditation might be viewed as a radical act in a society addicted to speed and instant gratification, so, too, I think is the act of remaining vigilant about race and racism when everything in society supports doing the opposite.

Adam, over at Fly Like a Crow, recently wrote this:

Recently, a fellow blogger Kyle wrote a bit about race and privilege and then there was quite a discussion in the comments. Check it out if you want, though you won’t see any comments by me.

That’s because I don’t want to talk about race. I know that it is an important issue. I know that issues about race are bound to come up when dealing with Buddhism, bloggers, and inflated egos on the internet. Some of these discussions are very important. But I don’t want any part of them. And it has nothing to do with the fact that I’m white. I’ve simply had it with issues of race. (and yes, I understand the irony of this post)

I think most every has had it with issues of race. I know I have. I'd love to dump all the samsara on the planet into a garbage can and go on with my life, too, but it's not going to happen.

Before you take this as a condemnation of Adam's view, I think it's important to recognize that where he is coming from right now is a place all of us have been about some issue or another in our lives. Exhaustion and burn out happen, and during those times, it's best to do what you can to rest. I think it's important when considering large scale social issues that have impacted people for generations, to realize that they require a wide variety of responses over a very long period of time from many, many, many people. No one person will end racism and the suffering behind it. And I really think that sometimes, the most appropriate response one can offer is simply to offer metta to all beings during your meditation - that we all may be liberated from the misery of racism.

On the other hand, it's vitally important to recognize that opportunities to rest are not equivalent. I remember what it was like to be a white teenager hanging out on the streets, in parks, at school, and in other public places with black and latino teenagers. Whenever authority figured entered the picture, it was rarely I who had pressure or heavy questioning placed upon me. And it was often I who received comments like "You're smart. You should do something more with your life than hang around with these guys." In fact, some of those guys even said as much, never mind that they were intelligent and capable themselves. When I behaved "badly" or questionably, the presence of my "smarts" alone seemed to allow me a pass most of the time with teachers, school administration, and other authorities that came into my life. The same wasn't true for my friends of color.

So, I'm convinced that both the opportunity to rest, and the quality of that rest, are privileged. Race, class, gender, and sexual orientation all play roles in how much opportunity people have to step away from any given social problem that's impacting their lives. (Hint: every social problem impacts all of us, regardless of who we are.)

The wonderful thing about Buddhist teachings is that even though these disparities are present, anyone, from any background, can learn to how to rest better, listen better, respond better - and most importantly, anyone can be liberated through practice, regardless of circumstances.

However, part of awakening in my view is learning to be fully present to our conditioning, to see that how we are cannot be divorced from the history of where we grew up, as well as the actual people and places we experienced.

Maia, over at Jizo Chronicles, provides some of this wider perspective in comments she wrote right after Hurricane Katrina five years ago. As the people down there continue to struggle in many ways, it's vital to continue to consider why it is that certain groups in certain places are allowed to suffer more than others.

To witness the travesty that has been New Orleans over these past five days is heartbreaking beyond belief. And outrageous.

Phrases comes to my mind, and at first I thought them too inflammatory to write here. But I will anyway, because I want to wake us up. I want to wake myself up. Genocide. Ethnic Cleansing. Economic Cleansing. What else to call it when thousands of poor, Black people are allowed to die in front of our eyes? And not just any death – excruciating deaths, brought about by lack of food, water… drowning deaths because people have waited for rooftop rescues which never came, and while they watched other corpses float by… children dying, old people dying, disabled people dying.

The really sad thing is, I’m not sure much has changed since August 2005.

May all beings be safe.

And may we all be liberated. Peace.

Forms of Taking Responsibilty

Over at the blog Yoga Journeys, I came across the following in the current post:

Today it became obvious that someone has a problem with me. Now I think most people encounter difficult relationships (or difficult patches in good relationships) from time to time. My self-talk in these moments tends to oscillate between, This is totally not my fault. There's nothing I can do. This person has her own issues, and, I'm a horrible person. I've ruined another relationship. It's all my fault. If only I'd..., I could have prevented this. Most of the time (and probably in this case), it's somewhere in between the two extremes. But also, placing blame is beside the point.

Yep, this definitely describes my reactions to relationship difficulties, at least part of the time. In my case, when these extremes occur, it seems to be coming from a misguided sense of taking responsibility. I mean, we hear all the time in Buddhist teachings about various forms of taking responsibility, right? There's even that old koan about the Zen cook who, upon learning he left a snake head in the soup by mistake, promptly ate it. No bitching, no excuses. He just ate it.

One major difference, perhaps the only real difference, is that the misguided responsibility taking that appears in the Yoga Journey's post, as well as in my own life, is "self-focused." It's all about me. I'm right or I'm wrong.

The form of responsibility taking in that old koan appears to leap past who is right and who is wrong. It's not interested in assigning personal blame; it's about addressing the situation at hand. I'm learning how to do this more in my life, but definitely still leap towards the habitual form of taking responsibility, which just causes more trouble.

What's interesting about the whole "I've ruined the relationship" narrative described above is that, in my case anyway, I'm coming to see that I often over-estimate the impact of conflicts I have with others. There's no doubt that on certain issues, I am direct, outspoken, and clearly outside of the norm in my views. And this does ruffle some feathers. However, given a shift that I'd like to credit my Zen and yoga practices for, what seems to happen more often these days is that I experience the intensity of emotion tied to whatever issue I speaking about with someone, but what I actually say and how I say it doesn't seem to cause the kind of intensity I'm feeling. In other words, it feels like I'm saying something that could cause a major rift between myself and others, but the actual action doesn't do so.

On the flip side, the "This is totally not my fault." narrative is an underestimation of my general impact in an given situation. In fact, it comes up most fiercely when I actually do have some responsibility, but don't want to take it, or want the other person to step up first.

Both of these narratives play into, for me anyway, a larger story I have long held onto having to do with finality. I tend to lean towards clear resolution rather than ambiguity. This isn't too smart in a world full of ambiguity.

For example, I remember dating a woman a few years back who did a few odd things about three weeks after we started dating. Nothing awful, just things that caused question marks for me. However, instead of getting to know her a little better and seeing if these were regular patterns, or isolated incidents, I went for the jugular and ended the relationship. Now, this could have been for the best, but looking back, I see how that decision was mostly about protecting myself from the ambiguity of being with someone who might turn out to be "wrong for me" later. But isn't that true of every romantic relationship in the beginning? We don't really know, no matter how many sparks fly.

This isn't to say that every situation calls for hanging around, watching, and waiting with uncertainty. Some situations demand decisive action, and some relationships require clear and unambiguous yeas or nays. But that decisiveness needs to come from something much larger than "I or my," otherwise it ends up reinforcing the very separate sense of self that we practitioners hope to break down.

This might be a useful way to check in about any form of responsibility. Is it about protecting "me, myself, and I" in someway? Asking that question could be a way to let drop off those dramatic forms of claiming experiences in our lives that don't, at the end of the day, serve to awaken. Or, at the very least, it might help you pause, even if you can't determine if you are responding appropriately or not.

First "Western" Female Priest in the Nichiren Order

A few bloggers have already posted the link to this article, but I think it's worth repeating.

Editor's Note: Buddhist Myokei Caine-Barrett is the first woman of African-Japanese descent, and the only Western woman, to be ordained as a priest in the Nichiren Order. She is the resident priest and guiding teacher for the Myoken-ji Temple, home of the Nichiren Buddhist Sangha of Texas. She talks about her journey to Buddhism in "The Black Pulpit," a weekly series that explores faith in the black community.

Caine-Barrett goes on to speak of her wide ranging spiritual path, beginning with Biblical stories and taking her into a Nichiren community. The last two paragraphs, I think, are especially important, given the continual bubbling up of discussions about race, racism, and "Western" sanghas.

The practice of Buddhism has much to offer communities of color; however, it may be difficult to find teachers and practitioners with the necessary experience. There is no national directory. We exist in myriad traditions and cities throughout the U.S. Ordination in many traditions is often difficult and expensive, and finding teachers willing and able to address issues relative to being African-American is sometimes impossible.

Yet, progress is being made as we create sanghas within communities of color and assume the roles of clergy and lay teachers. It is definitely time for practitioners of color to step up and make ourselves known. Our communities need us to be present now.

The Garage from Hell and Its Gifts

Spent part of the day yesterday over at my sisters, helping tear down the garage from hell. It's been an all summer long process because the thing is a beast of a building, and we had to haul off all the debris ourselves. I've only put in a few afternoons worth of work on this project; my sister's boyfriend and my father have really done the lions share.

Anyway, as we pushed down part of the old garage frame yesterday, exposing this huge, wide open expanse that had been covered by the building for fifty years, it felt like my life. It WAS my life at the moment. But also this tumbling over of the old, and seeing the wide openness behind feels very true to me today. And just as that space in their backyard is undefined as of now - it's future use not yet determined - so too is a lot of my life.

We pulled the lawn table and chairs into the newly opened space yesterday and sat down for a drink, some pizza, and conversation. I had a bit of a melt down when a question was asked about my old job, a reminder of how challenging it can be to hang with the uncertainty and instability of the relative world. But beyond that, there was a quality of spaciousness there I think we all felt - both the actual open space we sat in, but also something deeper. Looking around, everything was there. The beautiful, new fence my father and my sister's boyfriend had built. A pile of dirt, broken glass, and other rubble. The remains of the last third of the garage, waiting to be taken down. A pile of old lumber. A pile of new lumber.

I've spent a lot of time in my life trying to build, grow, succeed and maintain, but the flip side is always there, too. Yesterday, it felt abundantly clear to me that no matter how much fussing I do on the surface, building this and tearing down that, life will always be in some kind of transition. I will always contain some of that rubble, some of that broken down shell of a garage. And I need to remind myself again and again that that's just fine.


*Photo of my sister's boyfriend snoozing in the new space after a long day's work.