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Smaller-Scale Buddhism

2009-11-09T16:01:00.003-08:00

Here's something I figured out on my own: The key to applying the teachings of the Buddha to one's life is to create personal allegories. To "get" any of the teachings, you have to scale down the philosophical concepts of Buddhism in such a way that they are understandable in the context of one's everyday life. Some concepts in Buddhism are difficult to understand because they are so extreme and abstract, while others conflict with a scientific understanding of the world. These ideas have to be interpreted to be useful.

I don't know much about Buddhism, but I think that I have learned how to scale down two of the difficult introductory concepts of Buddhism so they work in my life.

Dukkha
Dukkha is suffering, and the teachings of Buddha are intended to lead the student away from dukkha. Buddhist literature describes dukkha, explains where it comes from, and shows how to escape it. People usually interpret dukkha to refer to mortality-related topics like pain, physical illness, death, and sorrow.

Most people deal with pain, death, and sorrow infrequently, which makes dukkha seem like an abstract concept at best and really painful to think about at worst. But mortality is really just the biggest, scariest and most profound forms of suffering. Buddha also referred to some pretty mundane forms of dukkha: association with the unbeloved, separation from the loved, and not getting what is wanted.

In short, dukkha also refers to dealing with people, to being alone, and to managing one's desires. These topics are far easier to think about regularly than death. In fact, these are topics that you must think about regularly.

Do you have a difficult relationship with your coworkers? That's dukkha. Do you find it hard to be by yourself (or even so scared of being alone that you keep poor company)? That's dukkha. Did your big plans for lunch get derailed by a rush of customers? That's dukkha, too. Dukkha is everywhere, if you look. You can focus on dealing with that dukkha as practice for dealing with the big, scary, profound, dukkha that is mortality later.

Samsara
In Buddhist tradition, samsara is the antithesis of enlightenment. It's the endless cycle of suffering caused by birth, death, and reincarnation. Samsara is visually represented as a wheel, rolling endlessly through birth, death, and rebirth. with one's life after rebirth being influenced by one's karma from the previous life. (Hindus, Sikhs and adherents to a few other religions also believe in samsara, but I'm talking specifically about the Buddhist conception of the word.)

Some interpretations of samsara get a little baroque. In Tibetan Buddhism, for example, samsara involves a gradual but more or less inevitable downward fall through six stages, from near-godhood down to hell, passing through the states of demi-god, human, animal, and hungry ghost on the way. Hell in Tibetan Buddhism isn't an eternal state of punishment, though: It's a state of woe you reach as a direct result of your actions, which you can eventually leave. Once you've left Buddhist hell, you enter back into the rest of the cycle. It's an endless, predictable process.

Ghosts, gods, and reincarnation. These are superstitious words! They make samsara pretty difficult to stomach if you're of a pragmatic mind. A better way to think about samsara than as an abstract religious concept is as a cycle of behavior. And, just like dukkha, you have to think about samsara on a small scale. Samsara is the process of moving inevitably between pain and happiness and back. This is samsara on a human scale. Within the larger context of birth and death, we experience smaller cycles of pain and happiness. The big wheel of samsara has many small wheels within it.

Part of being in a cycle of behavior is experiencing peaks of emotion, peaks which one experiences regularly as rewards or as respites from the painful portion of the cycle. (Those peaks of emotion might only be peaks relative to the rest of the cycle, but they're still peaks. Even the most miserable person can point to one moment and say, "That as the best part of my day.") Peaks like that are the anchors of cyclical behavior. Painful behaviors become cyclical because it is easy to get attached to certain parts of the behavior that is causing one pain.

An easy way to think about this is in terms of substance abuse: A drinker might feel great at drink number three, progressively worse as she continues to drink, and feel awful and useless and guilty in the morning. She might perk up in the afternoon just in time to do it again in the evening. A really bad problem drinker would do this every night. That's is a cycle of physical suffering repeated on a daily scale. That is samsara.

Or think about eating a fast food burger for lunch every day? You might eat it, feel bad about having eaten something bad for you, then eat the same damn burger again the next day because all you remember is how good it tasted.

It can be about other people, too. Some people seem to do the same things in every relationship they get into, and as a result their relationships follow predictable patterns of elation, disillusionment, and pain. That's also samsara: a cycle of emotional suffering repeated on a human scale.

Now, I think it can be painfully obvious to an outside observer when someone is locked into a pattern. Particularly for the examples above, it might look as if breaking the cycle should be incredibly easy. Those examples are just examples. Not all cycles are that obvious! Do you do anything that you enjoy but which also hurts you? Do you cling to anything painful simply because it's familiar?

Antlers, Solar Shields, Wool from China

2009-11-06T17:30:00.000-08:00

A few minutes after we walked into Value Village, it began to pour rain, and I knew that I'd get my feet wet on the walk back. In the short term, thrifting can be a fruitless endeavor. I go to thrift stores weekly to twice weekly, and rarely purchase anything. In the sense of accomplishments, this is wasted time, but in the sense of opening oneself up to things, it's opportunity cost. That's the short term. The rewards are in the acquisition of interesting objects that I could not have purchased at full price, or perhaps at any price. These objects enrich my life. Today I bought the antlers of an eight-point deer. The points have been rubbed white. The skull cavity is still attached. I'll put it on my wall soon, but for now the rack sits on my desk with the points protruding dangerously off the edge. 14.99 buys decorative personality. And I bought some Solar Shield sunglasses, quite similar to a pair I used in Arizona which delivered the clarity of vision and depth of field that other sunglasses promise. Those had brown lenses, these gray, but they are otherwise identical. Those were 99 cents. My third purchase was a gray wool sweater, with cable patterns down the front, a polo collar, and a surprisingly deep placket. The label inside is in Chinese, and I plan to ask H. what it says so that I can properly follow the cleaning instructions. That was 6.99. For 25 dollars I purchased decoration which I doubt I would have found elsewhere, fine sunglasses at a fraction of the cost, and a sweater which I doubt one could purchase in the United States. This is the long term reward of thrifting: a unique complement of objects that are themselves unique. Sometimes you just get your feet wet, and sometimes you find something amazing.

Rabagliati, Carver, Peck

2009-11-02T13:43:00.000-08:00

I've been reading the autobiographical comics of the Canadian Michel Rabagliati lately, and I'm really in love with the simple way in which he depicts the relatively mundane events of his life. Each of Rabagliati's books chronicles a specific time in his life, using his author surrogate Paul to describe his upbringing in Canada. The books are full of details that are very tied to time and place. Last night I read Paul Has A Summer Job, and a good place to start is Paul Goes Fishing. The titles are wonderfully direct. They remind me of the title of the first Kings of Convenience album: Quiet Is the New Loud.

In Paul Has a Summer Job, Rabagliati's Paul drops out of school in Montreal and spends his summer as a camp counselor. He learns to rock climb, befriends a blind student, and has a brief camp love affair. Very few of the things that happen in the book seem important, but upon finishing I felt as if I'd been granted access to something deeply intimate. Reading it, it was is if I was sitting with Rabagliati in the quiet corner of a library. His writing seems muted by the passage of time, as if he's recounting an old memory which he long ago came to terms with.

Rabagliati has thick, dark eyebrows, and in every photograph I've seen of him, he has turned his body towards the camera to smile. It's hard to see how he could write anything unkind or complicated.

That is a compliment. Let me explain by comparing Rabagliati to the wave of minimalist short stories that followed after Raymond Carver. The genre into which his stories fit is realism. Carver's minimalism was used to convey the sense that something was seriously wrong. There's a tendency to call stories that focus on problems and pain "realistic," but this discounts the huge portion of existence that is both real and happy. Rabagliati's work is also realism, but he uses simplicity of description to convey contentment, not misery.

Gregory Peck disliked the common actorly conceit that it's more realistic to play the villain. For him, villains weren't inherently more realistic, it was just harder to play the heroes as if they were real people. Peck preferred playing heroes.

Ritual, Hawkwind, Laity

2009-11-02T09:14:00.000-08:00

During my meditation class yesterday, I felt stress in the form of a sharp pile of junkyard trash in the core of my stomach. Rather than focus on it, I moved my breathing to my nose and throat and found that the sharp edges of the trash were soon dulled. I imagined them covered with a thick creamy fluid like cornstarch and milk. It has become surprisingly easy to sit still for the ninety minutes of the course. I made a commitment several weeks ago to attend weekly Buddhist services faithfully for one month. After four times it had become such a habit that I felt guilty for not attending the fifth. Guilt was compounded by a serious lack of calm during the two weeks I skipped. Returning to the course feels like a return to ritual. Rituals are a sort of habit one chooses and imbues with meaning.

There's a line in the Hawkwind song "The Black Corridor" that has struck me lately: "Stars occupy minute areas of space - they are clustered a few billion here, a few billion there, as if seeking consolation in numbers." It had not occurred to me that space is emptiness. Some words are of such common use that I forget their similarity in meaning. Space is a sort of emptiness on a grand scale.

My teacher at the Buddhist temple, an older lady with short-cropped gray hair, lives on site. Her life is relatively mundane: She has a husband, a son, and a job. Her responsibilities result in the same frustrations and joys as anyone else experience. She told us in passing yesterday that they are instructed to be normal, to mingle, and in mingling to provide good examples for others. Before she brought this up, I had assumed she was a monk in training. This is another synonym: a Buddhist is a sort of person conscious of their approach to life.

Paseo, Sendak, Gandolfini

2009-11-01T09:13:00.000-08:00

Friday we ventured out for dinner and a movie. We ate Paseo sandwiches, and while ordering I found a powerful thirst. The menu read "soft drinks, specialty drinks" and I asked about the latter. The cashier said they had never had any specialty drinks, so we paid and drove to Taco Loco for horchata. Taco Loco was closed, so we drove home and had water with our Paseo sandwiches.

Paseo sandwiches are, without question, the best sandwiches I have ever had. Their cuban-style pork roast (mayo, jalapenos, and large chunks of sauteed onions, in a thick baguette-style roll) is consistently the most flavorful and satisfying thing one can eat with two hands. The ingredients are unified by a tangy sauce but retain their individuality.

After we'd eaten our sandwiches, we saw Where the Wild Things Are at the Majestic Bay. I was surprised to find that it was about roughhousing and accidentally hurting the people one is close to. A sample line of dialogue, said like an angry, hurt child: "You stepped on the face part of my head." H thought it depressing, saying that it captured that feeling of a child who feels bad for having misbehaved and is about to be punished. I can't disagree - for a child's dream about a fantasy escape, it involved deeply realistic relationships, and ended without resolution. Deeply beautiful, but troubled and troubling. I think the lesson of Where The Wild Things Are is You must take responsibility for the people who love you.

Problems

2009-10-29T14:12:00.000-07:00

I think in absolutes, and I believe what I think. I assume that when someone loves me, they love everything about me and always will. I assume that when someone says something callous, it means they cannot stand me. I assume that casual relationships will always remain casual. I assume that how I feel at a given moment will be how I feel later.

I think in terms of character and plot, albeit on a very dim level. I want narrative meaning in my life a great deal, and struggle against the idea that it might be better to be part of a tragedy than to be part of no story at all.

Think of your life as a platform on which you're standing, and of your outlook on life as your feet. You must constantly adjust your footing to keep the platform level, not just so you don't fall off, but so you can reach things above you using the platform. I believe that most people keep their platforms horizontal with relative ease. Mine is at a constant slant.

I am more comfortable being unhappy than I am being content.

A decision looms.

2009-10-28T11:39:00.000-07:00

Today I was contacted by the human resources manager at my former place of employment. She told me that the company, having become busy again, is opening up my position, and wanted to offer it to me before they opened the position to others. I have two days to respond to them. This is a problematic decision, and I should consider the pros and cons.

Pros
I know the content fairly well, understand the office culture, and get along with the staff. This would be an easy position to get into.

Now knowing that they do not necessarily have any loyalty to me, I would be free to be mercenary: I could request to work 4 days/week while also spending some time looking for other work.

My unemployment runs out, if not soon, then eventually, and my job prospects are nonexistent. The security of having a source of income is a wonderful thing, and a lack thereof begins to look very scary. Life is effectively on hold now.

Having spliced myself into other ventures (City Fruit and Seattlest), I would have extracurricular activities to supplement my work.

I could start seeing my therapist again.

Cons
I had a nagging dislike of the work when I was last there. The work is not fulfilling.

I'm not sure how it would be to work under my old supervisors again after having been let go.

The position gives me no clear path by which move into areas which I find more interesting.

I am afraid that I would fall back into the pattern of goofing off and doing the minimum of work possible I set for myself last time. This laziness and lack of productivity made me a mediocre, unhappy worker.

Something about it feels like giving up. That is to say, I had hoped unemployment would give either my career new direction. Is this the sort of thing it's unseemly for a man to complain of?

Incomplete Sardine Tacos

2009-10-27T11:31:00.000-07:00

For lunch today I fried a can of sardines in a haphazard mix of paprika and cayenne pepper, removing bones throughout the process. I put the result into tortillas on beds of cilantro, and topped it with lashings of homemade chipotle salsa. I was following a recipe that calls for yogurt and pesto, but chose to omit both, as those flavors seem odd for sardines (and because the fridge has no yogurt). The flavor was incomplete. I now think the writer had a point: the yogurt would have provided a unifying creamy base, and the pesto would have provided the right accompaniment to the slightly overwhelming flavor of the sardines. Sardines are quite different from the white fish usually used in fish tacos. That fish provides a flaky protein base with little flavor. Sardines, however, do not flake in the same way and provide a flavor so intense that one feels compelled to brush one's teeth immediately upon finishing the dish. In all, a dish with a potential not yet achieved this morning, but I am hopeful to perfect it, as its ease and complexity make it appealing.

A mid- to late-18th century hunting frock.

2009-10-26T21:20:00.001-07:00

It's interesting to compare this to a modern hunting coat-- do you notice that the basic functionality of this garment hasn't changed much? The fringe on this wicks water away, a function accomplished by the waxed cotton or nylon composition of modern hunting coats.

2009-10-26T10:32:00.000-07:00

Abe and Ash.

2009-10-14T12:07:00.000-07:00

This Norman Rockwell portrait of Abe Lincoln.

Bruce Campbell as Ash Williams from Army of Darkness.

It's not just the blue shirts that make me think they're similar, right? There's a common, lanky quality to each too, right?

Scarlet Takes More Than a Tumble

2009-10-13T12:37:00.001-07:00

In this video Scarlet takes a tumble in a windowless room the sort of which you find in basements and in McMansions. Did empty utility rooms this size exist before the 1980s?

Youtube gives you a lot of access to architecture. Used to be, you had to go into someone's house to see what the room was like and how they were using it.

ALLEN BROS-FRUIT JAR BLUES

2009-10-09T08:45:00.001-07:00

Just hilarious.

2009-09-26T11:55:00.002-07:00

Talkin' Beards - guest Chris Elliott offers advice to young people

2009-09-24T21:03:00.001-07:00

??????

Observation

2009-09-23T20:02:00.000-07:00

Once you have given up the enjoyment of certain large things in life like constant drunkenness and self-destructive points of view, the enjoyment of life becomes to be experienced in small things like a walk at dusk or the smell of water in a rain barrel. What's interesting about this to me is that in both the large and small things you're experiencing the exact same world: it is simply your perspective and focus that have changed.

American Movie on Youtube

2009-09-21T13:08:00.000-07:00

Trailer

Watch the whole thing!

Chicken Hypnosis

2009-09-21T12:10:00.000-07:00

Find a flat surface such as a sidewalk. You'll need a piece of chalk and a chicken. You can also do it on bare earth using a stick in a pinch.
Hold the chicken in one hand by both feet and place it down so that its breast is carrying its weight and rests on the sidewalk. Its head/beak will therefore also be on the sidewalk, since you continue to hold its feet.
Wave the chalk in front of the chicken to get its attention. Draw a line 12" to 18" STRAIGHT OUTWARD from the end of the chicken's beak. If using bare earth or ground, use a stick to draw the line, or maybe your finger.
The chicken will be hypnotized and cease to struggle. If you release its legs, it'll just lie there, transfixed by the straight line for a time. Eventually, the chicken will "come to" and stagger off.

WARNING: The chicken may not wake up if hands are not clapped. This could be harmful to the chicken, so never do it for too long or in a way other than in the instructions.

The Paradox of Choice

2009-09-21T09:10:00.000-07:00

Before the turn of the 19^th century, freedom was defined as self-sufficiency, the freedom to own your own land and tools, and eke out a living with your own hands. As consumerism became a dominate force in the culture, freedom was redefined to mean the freedom to choose, to choose between different items and lifestyles, to choose things we believed fit out tastes and personality more than others. This was the beginning of defining ourselves by what we buy, instead of who we are and what we do, but that is another discussion for another day.

-link

Maybe from before kids were told to smile for the camera?

2009-09-19T16:41:00.001-07:00

FACTS ABOUT VERY SHORT PEOPLE

2009-09-15T12:11:00.000-07:00

have to carry stepstools w/ them to the liquor store if they want top-shelf booze
get their socks only by prescription
don't faint when they stand up too fast
need special shoes to use bicycles

LINKS THAT WILL MAKE YOU UNHAPPY EVEN AS YOU LAUGH

2009-09-15T10:04:00.000-07:00

I like the Onion pieces that are funny, but actually really sad, too.

I love The Onion. One of their go-to ways to create a humor piece is to take a profoundly pathetic person and look at them through a new lens. I feel like this is a distinctly midwestern way to go about things: you take a basically miserable person and you integrate them into your life somehow. Like winter. Or tuberculosis. Or death.

These aren't comedic pieces anymore - they're human pathos that happens to be presented comedically.These are the Onion's tragedies. They're about people overshadowed by lost potential, crippled an inability to achieve, deadened by unresolved guilt and maddened by the expectations of others. Unable to let go of their failed relationships and fears of mortality. All that stuff everyone fears.

Check these out and tell me if you see what I mean. These are pieces that I find myself avoiding when I get down in the dumps, but find really, really funny other times. The titles alone are pretty funny, but the content is so black, so desperate, that it's very hard for me to get through more than one or two of these without getting really unhappy. Which is sort of an accomplishment for America's favorite humor website.

OH THE TENSION

2009-09-15T09:57:00.001-07:00

Oh, The Temptation from Steve V on Vimeo.

A fine picture of a fine child.

2009-09-11T11:22:00.000-07:00

Miyazaki

2009-09-07T16:35:00.001-07:00

We saw Ponyo. Some people are Ponyo, though.