Should a Zen Buddhist Have Passion?

How does a Buddhist talk and present their point of view? When I was younger, I met a person who said she was Buddhist, but she was so hyper and enthusiastic, and even opinionated! I couldn't imagine how that could be Zen or any kind of Buddhist.

But now that I've studied Buddhism for a while, I see that it's all just carrying water and chopping wood. If that's the case, then what does being Zen look like?

Right speech - that's part of the eightfold path. But what is right speech in one culture versus another? What is right speech on the internet and in public conversation? What is right speech when someone is hitting you and everyone around you with a stick?

I recently had a very strong reaction in one of my blog posts on my other blog, JustEnough, and one of my comments basically replied with, "That's not very zen or compassionate of you to say this."

It really got me thinking. Well, first it was a clear sign that I'm not a perfect Buddhist. And perhaps, it's a great lesson that I will never be a perfect Buddhist, nor should I try to attain that.

But it also got me thinking about how I approach logic and arguments, and how I deal with the group of people I represent being hit with the same verbal stick over and over again. Does my response lead to the least amount of suffering? What is the correct Zen response? Is letting someone push me and everyone in the group I'm in, without response, the path to less suffering? Would having a soft, calm, approach work in this case? Is it possible to have passion and still be soft and effective at getting them to stop swinging?

On the one hand, personal attacks towards me, don't bother me much. But attacks on groups of people, especially the groups of people who I feel are "underdogs," is like sticking a hot poker under my fingernails. I cannot help but respond to help give strength to the less powerful group - especially if they are made weak because of the pressure being put on by the stronger group.

But, does this just perpetrate the "us vs. them" situation that has already been established by the stronger group? The “us vs. them” mentality is a strong one in our culture, not just among homeschoolers. My intention with the response on my blog was not to create an “us vs. them”, nor was my mind there when I wrote it. In fact, I can understand all too well the place where Kristen and Allison are, because I was there once. And perhaps, I’m on the other side of where they are? But, I am indeed passionate about this topic, and sometimes, after being hit with the same stick in the same place over and over again, it’s hard to have perfect compassion without lacing it with frustration.

While I have compassion for those who are anti-homeschooling or think that they understand homeschoolers when they in fact do not at all, I also have a strong response to irony and large elephants in the room, which will probably be with me until I die, no matter how Zen I get.

So, that leaves the question - fight for what I believe in while pointing out flaws in logic and presentation, all while allowing others to be who they are and speak their minds (i.e. have a debate) - or let the world happen as it will while I sit in zazen? I do go back and forth about that a lot, and swing towards both extremes from time to time, ever searching for the elusive middle way.

A Zen Joke

Comedy central had this joke today:

A man was sprawled across three entire seats in a theater. When the usher came by and noticed this, he whispered to the man, "Sorry sir, but you're only allowed one seat."

The man groaned but didn't budge. The usher became impatient.

"Sir," the usher said, "if you don't get up from there, I'm going to have to call the manager."

Again, the man just groaned, which infuriated the usher who turned and marched briskly back up the aisle in search of his manager. In a few moments, both the usher and the manager returned and stood over the man. Together the two of them tried repeatedly to move him, but with no success. Finally, they summoned the police. The cop surveyed the situation briefly.

"All right, buddy. What's your name?"

"Sam," the man moaned.

"Where ya from, Sam?" the cop asked.

"The balcony."

This is funny, but it's also a moment of zen. Things aren't always what they seem, and we have a choice to approach each situation with loving-kindness, rather than anger or frustration. But then, if the usher had been in a zen frame of mind, this joke wouldn't be funny.

How To Hug a Porcupine - Loving Kindness

I've talked about passive-aggressive people before. Sending them loving-kindness has helped a lot in my recovery in dealing with people who hurt others in indirect ways in order to make themselves feel better and control their world. By sending them loving-kindness, I take myself out of their grip, wish them peace, and then move forward. Well, usually.

But sometimes, it feels like I'm hugging a porcupine.

The problem with hugging a porcupine, is that giving love to him hurts. My initial reaction is to run away or fight. When being threatened by quills, it's hard to be loving.

Perhaps, being poked a little is a short-term price we can pay for long term benefit. Think of how much a porcupine can hurt me I'd get if I fought it. And how much pain I'd feel if I try to push the porcupine away as it moves around me. This produces far more pain and suffering than if I welcome the porcupine, love it, and let it be as prickly as it wants to be. By loving it, it only hurts me a little, and then I'm able to forgive and move on.

By hugging a porcupine, I define how much hurt I receive. I'm showing it I'm not afraid. And when I'm done hugging it, I have less fear of it attacking me. There is no desire to fight it. No desire to run away from the quills.

I'll never be able to get rid of the quills on a passive aggressive personality. And I will never be able to keep them out of my life entirely. But perhaps by deciding on a different approach, and a different perspective, I can make my life easier, and even possibly reduce the porcupine's suffering by not letting their ways take control of me too.

I can't change them. Perhaps one day, I will no longer be angered by them, or feel manipulated, my Buddha nature will shine, and I'll only feel loving kindness towards them and wish them less suffering.

Zen Practice and Medication

The practice of Zazen and Zen Buddhism shouldn't "take a break" while we're sick, or having a rough time, or even when we're having a great time. Its very nature exists all the time. Yet, I've been grappling with it for the past couple of months due to some medication that I've been prescribed.

The medication has changed me. And it makes me wonder what the whole point of zazen and meditation is when we can simply take a pill, and well, we're different. What is this "me" that has changed? And if I'm so easily chemically manipulated, what's the point of making effort be awake?

Another side effect of the medication is that it sometimes makes it very hard to concentrate, and sometimes I get dizzy and disoriented. It almost feels like being drunk or high.

One of the tenets of zen buddhism is to avoid substances like alcohol and drugs, which alter our perceptions. Yet, I have to take these drugs, prescribed by a doctor, which do that very thing. How can I think clearly and be present when I've been altered?

I've been grappling with this, like a zen koan. There is no answer. The question itself has been my meditation practice for the past month. When I'm driving or walking or simply sitting, I breathe, and go around and around without end on this question - does taking personality altering medication effect my zen practice?

My zafu pillow is lonely. My yoga mat is starting to gather dust. My bed pillow is getting a permanent dent in the middle. Pre and post sleep are my meditation times, when my body is too tired to move, yet my mind is spinning and floating in a semi-awake haze. I breathe, and relax, and let the medication do its work.

There is something to be learned from this, but I don't know what. I continue to breathe and bring myself as much as I can to the present moment. And when it's all over, perhaps, I'll be able to see the path I have tread, and understand then where I my experiences were leading me.

How Many Days Do You Have Left to Live?

If you found out that you only had a week to live, how would you live it? What if you found out that you had 100 days?

This question brings up the zen question of death and life. How can we live our life so we aren't afraid of death? Isn't part of being afraid of death is that we feel like we don't have enough time here, to do whatever it is that we feel we need to be doing? If we lived a full, and present, life, would death be so scary?

Maria contemplates the raw truth of how many days she can realistically expect to live. Having a solid number gives her perspective on how impermanent life is. And instead of brooding on it, she uses that information to inspire her to live a more present life.

It makes me wonder, why we are so resistant to allowing ourselves to live life in the moment? Why is it so compelling to spend so much time in the past, future.. simply escaping?

Patience and Practice

Where does patience come from? Does it come from a practice and what we choose to do? Does it come from a perspective on how important we consider everyday events? Does it come from the managing the ego and attachment, not always needing things to be the way we expect? Does it come from defeat and realizing that our energy is wasted when we get impatient?

People tell me that they don't have patience. What does that mean? Are you patient?

I'm patient when I'm on the freeway, unless I am late for something. I'm patient with my kids, unless I am trying to focus on something. I'm patient with my friends, unless they push my buttons. I'm patient with my cat, except at 4am when she is meowing in my ear.

ZenHabits has a post on how to become patient. He lists many tools for fending off frustration. Does the practice of counting, breathing, and other stress-relievers actually increase our patience? Or do they distract us? After time, do we start to become naturally more patient because we see how we don't have to be impatient for things to happen?

When we sit in Zazen, we are practicing patience, in many forms. Zen, in general, is a practice in patience. Yet, patience has this mysterious quality that you can't put your finger on, or fix. Perhaps, part of being patient is accepting that, sometimes, we're not.

Monkeys and Coconuts: Zen Buddhist Non-Attachment

(Note: This was a 7 minute speech I gave to my Toastmasters club, from the advanced manual "Speaking to Inform", speech number 5, "The Abstract Idea". It turned out to be so well received, I decided to post it to ZenPizza.")

Monkeys and Coconuts

Monkeys can help us find peace.

Madame Toastmaster, and Fellow Toastmasters,

Buddhism, and in particular Zen Buddhism, is known as a religion of peace. Many don't consider it a religion at all, but rather a philosophy.

The philosophy of Zen Buddhism is, at its essence, a search for the reduction of suffering. If one is able to completely remove suffering, he has attained Nirvana, or Enlightenment.

One of the traveling companions on the path to enlightenment is non-attachment. This is what we'll be talking about today.

Image this morning, you walked out of your house, and your car was not in the driveway. Imagine another scenario where someone you know, or someone on TV, insulted something you liked, such as a sports team or a political party. Now imagine an argument or discussion you had, and you couldn't stop thinking about it for days afterwards.

In all of these scenarios, we're suffering. According to Zen Buddhism, the reason we are suffering is attachment.

In the first case, we are attached to things, in the second, we are attached to feelings, and the third, our opinions and wanting to be right.

The more we are attached, the more we suffer.

There is a Zen story that perfectly illustrates this point.

In SouthEast Asia, hunters have an ingenious way of trapping monkeys. They take a coconut, and carve a hole in the top, and take out the insides of the coconut. Then, they place a tasty, sweet morsel, such as a piece of fruit, inside the coconut. They take this coconut, and put it up in a tree in such a way that it cannot be dislodged. A monkey comes along, sees the tasty morsel, and reaches its hand in through the small hole. When he grabs the food, his hand turns into a fist, and he can't get his hand out of the coconut. The monkey is not willing to let go of the sweet thing, and the hunter catches him.

We are the monkeys, holding on to our stuff, our feelings, our opinions, and we can't let go of them. Even when we are stuck, and we have our fist lodged in a coconut, and we can SEE how much it's hurting us, we can't let go.

The solution to this problem, according to Zen Buddhism, is non-attachment.

How do we achieve non-attachment? The way a Zen Buddhist practices this is to meditate. It's why they meditate so much!

First, meditation brings us into the now. Now is the only time. Now is when things happen. The past and future are only constructs of our mind. When we are in the now, we can't have attachments. Attachments are in the past and the future. In the now, the past and future do not matter. When we are attached to the past, we feel guilt and sorrow, when we are attached to the future, we feel worry and fear. Being in the now keeps us from being attached to the past and future.

Secondly, Zen Buddhists believe that nothing in the universe is intrinsically "good" and "bad". Good and bad are judgements that the human mind places on things. By being in the now, we can remove our judgements of things. When we have no judgements, we have no attachments.

The Buddha said, "Never have anything to do with likes and dislikes. The absence of what one likes is painful, as is the presence of what one dislikes. Therefore, don't take a liking to anything."

So what does this mean? Is the Buddha teaching us to walk around as zen zombies, uncaring and indifferent to everything?

Ajahn Sumedho, author of "Teaching of a Buddhist Monk", shares a story about non-attachment and enjoying life.

(Note: I summarized his story for the speech. This is my summary, not a direct quote.)

There is a fire burning in front of us. It's beautiful. With red, yellow, white. And it's warm. We like it, so we reach out to hold it. And what happens? It burns us. We pull our hands away, because when we reached out to hold it, it burned us. Does this mean we hate the fire and want to put it out? No. Instead, we learned to sit back and enjoy its warmth from a distance, and enjoy its colors in front of us. We can appreciate and love the fire without holding on to it.

That is the Zen concept of non-attachement, and how we can live in our world, appreciate and love everything, yet not be attached to it all.

Now, becoming enlightened is a difficult task. Very few people have ever achieved that. And the odds of any of us in this room reaching true enlightenment is pretty low. However, maybe Buddha has a good point.

Maybe the road to peace is as simple as sitting still, letting go, being in the now, breathing....and thinking about fire, monkeys, and coconuts.

Forgiving in Advance

For years, I held on to anger, frustration, and bitterness. I could not forgive people who, in my perception, wronged me. And in parallel, I could not forgive my own mistakes and imperfections.

Zen study, as well as life experience, have helped me grow into a more forgiving person. I can see now how things that happened many years ago can trap me in the past, if I don't forgive. Forgiving is for myself, not for the other person, although it can repair relationships. Forgiving is not giving in, it is being strong. The weaker response is to hold on to grudges.

It's helped me in my parenting, and I hope my hubby would say, it's helped me in my marriage. Things I used to hold on to, and would create accumulated pain, don't effect me as much. I'm living much more in the moment. When problems arise, I can, although imperfectly, see how unfair it is to tie things in the far past into the now. Children who are growing and changing at lightening speeds make holding grudges nearly impossible. How silly it is to chastise a ten year old for how he behaved when he was five.

It's a window that gets smaller and smaller, as I learn to forgive things more quickly. The more practice I have in forgiving, the easier it comes.

What if, I could forgive at the very moment of a wrong-doing? What if I could forgive my children and my hubby at the moment that they do something I deem is painful, frustrating, or just plain wrong? Can I make the window that small?

And, is it possible, to go even farther, and to forgive before the wrong-doing even occurs? Is it possible to forgive in advance?

How freeing that would be, to forgive everyone in advance, so when things happen, I've already let go of the baggage that increases pain and suffering.

That will be my zen focus for this weekend: forgiving all the past, forgiving in the present, and forgiving in advance.

Making Room for Little Deaths

On Easter Sunday, I went to church. Sounds pretty banal, except, that I'm not religious, nor do I celebrate Easter. At least, not in the conventional sense. I celebrate it because it's a convenient opportunity to be together with the people I love, enjoying life, and sharing experiences. Not in many years have I ever wanted to go to church on Easter morning.

This year, I had an overwhelming urge to go to church and hear about Easter. The church I go to doesn't have bibles, and many of the people in the congregation don't even believe in God. Yet, up there in front of us, was a reverend, who spoke to us about the bible, about religion, and about Easter. My daughter came with me, too. And because of her, not only did I go to church, but I sat in the front row.

There's something really satisfying about sitting in front of someone who is talking to a group, but it feels like that person is talking to me, alone. On Easter Sunday, the reverend talked about the resurrection, and little deaths.

Every moment of our lives, we are experiencing little deaths. I have to admit, when I first heard him use this expression, I initially thought of "la petite mort," which, in French, would be a far cry from anything a reverend would talk about in church, let alone on Easter. What he was referring to, however, was the concept that whenever we experience a revelation, deal with a crisis, or have any kind of experience that impacts our psyche, we leave behind the old version of ourselves, and re-emerge as someone slightly, or significantly, different. We've experienced a little death.

In Zen Buddhism, we study and think about death a lot. Not in a morbid way, but in a "what are we so afraid of?" kind of way. The reason we shouldn't be afraid, is because we are always dying. And we are always being reborn. Each moment we leave behind, is the death of that moment, of that person we were a moment ago. As we approach each new moment, we are being reborn again, and we are brand new person. If we look at our bodies, our cells are constantly dying and being replaced by other cells. The body that we had 10 years ago cannot be found anywhere in the body that we have today. One could say that the person we were 10 years ago is physically dead, and we have been reborn.

This can happen to our psyche, or soul, or whatever word we want to use for it. Some would call it growing. What we do when we grow, is that we transform, and we become a slightly different and new person than we were before. The reverend at my church called these "little deaths". And to him, that is what the Resurrection symbolizes - the opportunities we have in our daily lives to die and be reborn into a new plane of understanding and living.

I suppose, this is another way to say, "put the past behind us." It's not just that, though. It's also accepting the reality of having to actually go through the "little death" to get through to the other side, and be reborn. If we continually try to keep the little deaths away, we can't become the new person that this experience can create in us.

The reverend gave an example of two women who had lost their husbands around the same time many years ago, at another church where he used to work. One woman was the model of control. People were in awe of how well she was able to keep it together, and go about her life without much disruption. The second woman, she lost it. She cried all the time, and her life fell apart. It was the most difficult time in her life.

A year later, the first woman cracked, and had to be admitted to a psychiatric ward. The second, got through her pain, and emerged through to the other side a different person. She had accepted her little death, and had been reborn. The first woman fought her little death, and ended up in living purgatory.

I wonder if this is what the original writers of the bible had in mind when they wrote about Jesus' resurrection. Was it an allegory for how when we accept the worst, and live through the pain of being metaphorically crucified, we then can come out from behind the stone and walk away into another plane of existence? Is purgatory really a metaphor to the place we put ourselves in our lives when we hold on the person we used to be even in the face of obvious change and life challenges?

Pema Chodron wrote a book called When Things Fall Apart. Many times in that book she says, in several different ways, "Just let things fall apart." We're so afraid of letting things fall apart. What's going to happen if they do? We might have to face our little death, again. And again. But maybe that's not so much of a bad thing? Maybe it's only through making room for those little deaths that we can truly live? Because what is life, when we spend all of our time running away and hiding?

Zen Podcasts

I found a great series of Zen podcasts. It's from the San Francisco Zen Center. The public lectures are also available in iTunes for free. I listened to one yesterday about emotions, judgment and perception by Edward Brown. I fell in love with his voice, which was so calming and gentle. So opposite of the the constant child-chatter and media-chatter that goes on around me all day, everyday.

Oh, and he also had some great observations about emotions and judgment, and what it means to be "zen". What does it look like to be "zen". I don't know. After his lecture, I still don't know. But I feel better about knowing, because that's the point.

Criticism and Correction

"First, do no harm," is a Zen mantra. That includes "right speech", where we refrain from speaking unless it adds positively to a conversation or to the world.

What about criticism and correction? Does it have any place in "right speech"?

I was thinking about this yesterday as I started reading Dave Carnegie's How to Make Friends and Influence People. I picked up the book at the library last week while doing some research on passive-aggressive behavior. I've heard quite a bit about the book (mostly in the form of jokes about the title), and was curious.

So I started reading it last night, and the first precept is "Don't criticize, condemn or complain."

It sounded very Zen.

His reasons were logical; people don't react well to criticism, people don't change their behavior after being criticized (except to avoid criticism later), and people trust us less when we criticize often. Makes sense.

But is it practical? Can we go through life without criticizing or correcting, especially as parents? Is there another way to express our desires without that?

Passive-aggressives are very good at finding fault in others, while hiding from their own faults. Is finding fault in others universally problematic?

Do you know anyone who criticizes, yet is still well-liked and makes friends easily? A friend of mine once said, "It's not the people who like the things we do who are our friends, but the people who hate the same things we do."

Dale Carnegie uses Abraham Lincoln as his running example of a man who chose not to criticize. Can we all be like Abraham Lincoln? Or would Lincoln crash and burn in today's world of critical media and our society's lust for drama?

Why Is Soda So Difficult?

I love food. But making lasting changes in my eating habits is so darn hard.

Going veggie was a slow process. I'm still going through it, as I still crave bacon and hamburgers sometimes.

I also have to really have conviction in why I'm giving up something before I can. I have to literally feel the physical effects of changing my diet for it to stick. Giving up caffeine, isn't working because I haven't noticed a difference. I still feel the same. So, giving up my diet coke is all conjecture of what it might potentially perhaps makes me healthier. I don't feel healthier, I don't feel less tired. And I really enjoy having soda with my meals.

I was able to give up meat because not only do I feel incredibly guilty after eating it, but I also feel kind of crappy. Fish doesn't make me feel either guilty or crappy, so I like eating it instead.

I was able to give up Mcdonalds because it really made me feel like crap. (I do get sucked into eating french fries though once in a while.)

I don't know if I'll ever be able to give up diet coke completely. I need more of an incentive to stop. And I need a habit to replace it with, and water just doesn't do it when it comes to enjoying a meal.

Speaking of food, there's a new fast food joint in New York that is trying to emulate McDonald's. It's called ZenBurger (do you think they got the idea from my blog title?)

What do you think? Is the whole concept flawed? Are "zen" and "fast food" two incompatible concepts?

New Year's Eve Is So Zen

New year's eve is coming. It's my favorite holiday of the year. It's not a big commercial holiday and it's something we can all celebrate together regardless of religion or culture or political view. It's a time to appreciate our lives, and to think positively towards our future. It has no history attached to it, because each year is its own unique focus on the present. We are encouraged to kiss each other, smile and cheer. We can celebrate without any rituals or fanfare or drama, or we can celebrate with parties and fun times.

2008 is going to be a good year. I can feel it. Many smiles to be had. Many successes to be shared.

This is my favorite time of year, because of New Year's. Because this time, more than ever, we are reminded to simply love and appreciate life.

Living in the Moment - or Not

Mike over at Thoughts on Spirituality, Liturgy and Religion posted a cute cartoon about living in the moment. It gave me a good giggle.

American Zen

Punk rocker Zen priest, Brad Warner, does things differently. Back to basics - just sit. Stripped down to its basic elements, that's the kind of Buddhism that speaks to me. I suppose, it's the same with almost all religions.

And, I like his book titles: Sit Down and Shut Up and Hardcore Zen.

Not Made in China and Vegetarian Thanksgiving

This Thanksgiving I agonized a bit over whether or not to eat turkey. I don't choose to eat meat when it means that animal had to die to feed me.

However, when I'm served meat, I'll eat it. The meat has already been slaughtered. Refusing meat that has been offered to me in good faith doesn't save the animal or show my appreciation for the effort my host went through to feed me.

But Thanksgiving wasn't as straight forward. I had the choice not to eat the turkey, because it wasn't been served to me. We were the hosts. Yet, my choice not to eat it wouldn't save the turkey. In fact, much of the turkey meat will be thrown out because we had way too much. And I like the taste of turkey.

So I had turkey. And I enjoyed it. It wasn't an easy decision. But once I made the decision, I went with it and didn't look back. It was also a relief not to have to explain why I don't eat meat and when.

The next thing I struggle with is "Made in China". Most of the toys the kids want were made in china. (Except the #1 one thing on my son's list. It was made in Italy. Yay!) But when everything is made in China...and we're on a budget...it sure is hard to shop for presents without buying into China's cheap crap industry.

What can I do to keep from buying from China? Is buying from China as bad as its made out to be? I'm so confused! I want to do the "right" thing. The thing that harms the world the least.

Sitting and Sleeping - Zazen Meditation at 7am

I've been diligently attending my 7am Tuesday Zazen sitting and walking meditation.

Oh, how hard it is to get up that early. To shower, eat and be there by 7. In order to sit. And do nothing.

I love doing nothing. It's one of my favorite things to do. I think that's why I enjoy driving so much. I can do nothing, and it's expected. I don't feel the least bit guilty about not doing dishes.

Doing nothing at 7am. That's rough. When I get to the yoga studio, I'm still asleep.

Surprisingly, I don't feel like I'm going to fall asleep during Zazen. I'm OK all the way through, go through my normal Zazen mantras, counting, breathing, etc. Then I come home. Where the couch calls me. And I succumb to the Siren's call.

It's not like there's a better time to meditate. If I don't do it at 7, it won't get done. And, isn't part of the whole purpose of practice, making a decision to be dedicated and doing it even when I don't feel like it?

Maybe, maybe not. But I keep going. And keep sitting.

Still Sitting

Oh, and I'm still sitting. Just on Tuesdays. 7am is just so early in the morning. I can't do it twice a week. Once a week sitting, and a couple times a month going to church - this is turning out to be a good gentle way to remind me of how much I enjoy spiritual practice and thought. And to remember to not get caught up in all the crap of everyday life. It's all just stuff. Don't sweat the small stuff and it's all small stuff.

I also enjoy having a place where I can actually talk about religion and spirituality and not feel like I'm putting a big target on my forehead. My neighbor also invited me to join her in the next week or two at her weekly spirituality group. She's in a similar place as me - leaning towards the zen of things, yet still very Western and not dogmatic about anything, even zen. So I might join her, if it's not too much time away from the family.

Sitting, thinking, talking, being together. It's all good.

Sitting Together in Silence

Yesterday, I had my first collective meditative experience.

I'd been considering joining a meditation group for a while. Things kept getting in the way. I figured, when the time was right, the universe would send me an opportunity - so long as I kept my mind open to the possibilities.

In the pursuit of a local yoga class that started early enough in the morning that I could go and come back before my husband left for work, I stumbled upon a zen meditation session. It was being offered during the exact time frame that I hoped to find a yoga class.

So I did the zen meditation instead of yoga. I was cold, it was dark still and it had been many months since I had sat for more than 5 minutes in a row. I fidgeted, and I had an itchy nose.

But I sat. And sat and sat. For 30 min. Then we did a 5 min. walking meditation. And then chanted the heart sutra.

I didn't feel miraculously better afterwards. Or like I was suddenly transplanted to another plan of calmness. But it felt... right. Like I belonged there. I immediately got along with everyone. And I can see how doing this on a regular basis will be good practice for me. It will reinforce my habit for mindfulness and peace. And give me a place to practice my sitting where I don't have to wrench time from my family.

I think the hardest part of being patient is letting go of the value of time. There is only now. I'm just starting to really understand what that means, after years of believing it and saying it and trying to live it. It's a lesson I'm learning slowly. But I am learning. I don't know if I'll ever stop learning.

Excitement Vs. Happiness

Speaking of Zen Buddhism... I'm reading a book called The Joy of Living by Yongey Mingyur Rinpoche. In it, Yongey Mingyur describes the basic tenet of Zen Buddhism through the parallels it has to quantum physics.

I love this approach. It's part of what I love about Zen. I've made the connection between science (in particular quantum science) and Zen before in my own mind. But thought that my inexperience in both realms didn't give me any credibility to talk about it.

It was a joy to see someone "official" talk about many things that I'd been thinking. It kind of reminds me of some of Deepak Chopra's writing.

Anyway, on a completely different tangent, Mingyur takes some time to talk about happiness and Western culture. This ties into a post I wrote a while ago about excitement. Here's a snippet of what he said:

The more widely I traveled, the clearer it became to me that people living in societies characterized by technological and material achievements were just as likely to feel pain, anxiety, loneliness, isolation, and despair as people who lived in comparatively less-developed areas. ...I began to see that when the pace of external of material progress exceeded the development of inner knowledge, people seemed to suffer deep emotional conflicts without any internal method of dealing with them. An abundance of material items provides such a variety of external distractions that peolpe lose the connection ito their inner lives.

Just think, for example, about the number of people who desperately look for a sense of excitement by going to a new restaurant, starting a new relationship, or moving to a different job. For a while the newness does seem to provide some sense of stimulation. But eventually th excitement dies down; the new sensations, new friends, or new responsibilities become commonplace. whatever happiness they originally felt dissolves.

... The trouble with all these solutions is that they are, by nature, temporary. All phenomena are the results of the coming together of causes and conditions, and therefore inevitably undergo some type of change. When the underlying causes that produced and perpetuated an experience of happiness change, most people end up blaming either external conditions (other people, a place, the weather, etc.) or themselves ("I should have said something nicer or smarter," "I should have gone somewhere else"). However, because it reflects a loss of confidence in oneself, or in the things we're taught to believe should bring us happiness, blame only makes the search of happiness more difficult."

The more problematic is that most people don't have a very clear idea of what happiness is, and consequently find themselves creating conditions that lead them back to the dissatisfaction they so desperately seek to eliminate.