Projections & Illusions

Imagine that you are sitting down in a private movie theater to watch the screening of a new Ken Burns documentary.  The subject of the film is... you.  This silver screen hangs limply at the front of the room waiting for the lights to dim, and the projector is being tinkered with like a classroom A/V cart. 

The film opens at your birth and moves quickly through times before your own memories.  It tugs at the heart strings in ways that only old photographs of family can.  Your first memories hit the screen and you are overcome with how cool it is that a great documentarian has put your life on film.  You see things that you barely remember which sparks images in your mind long hidden or covered in dust. 

It feels odd to see your life through the camera lens, through a different perspective.  The angle is not the way you remember things.  Maybe you think, “I thought the chair was over there,” and “wow our dog was so small, I thought he was bigger.”  Perhaps this is discomfiting, or playful and neat.

For me the movie becomes more confusing as it progresses.  There are a lot of good times presented and I can’t help but smile and cry a little, but the lighting is always different than I remember, the colors are off, and the dialogue is so unclear.  The hard times are shown as well.  Again things are not the way that I remember.  The arguments have no point, my arguments have no point, and I look sadder than I remember.  I am starting to get mad a Ken Burns.  I remember that day vividly and he messed up the shot.  He made me look bad and now it is on film and no one will believe me.

Recent insight sparked this analogy.  It occurs to me that I got the message that my subjective self (my experience through my own eyes) was not seen or understood by those around me.  The truth (my truth) is that I spent a lot of my childhood feeling really alone and misunderstood.  I felt objectified (like an object for others projections).  I felt like the screen at the front of the room.

When I would get into conflicts I often just wanted to be told that I was okay for feeling the way that I was feeling.  That could have been followed with “however we are not allowing you to...”  Maybe I was told this, but I remember being told that I “just wanted to argue,” which was just another projection that felt incongruous to my experience and was therefore more isolating. 

In discussing this insight it was pointed out to me that some people take on the projections of other more easily than others.  I think that I learned to avoid conflict by taking on the projections of others at times.  However, doing so has always induced an uneasy feeling in my gut and I have often isolated myself at times to avoid this feeling. 

As I sit and write our dog is standing at my side.  I am projecting that she is hungry but she cannot communicate clearly just as I couldn’t clearly communicate how lonely I felt.  I project my experience onto others just as often as others' experience is projected onto me.

With this insight I am starting to feel a real shape taking form.  A form which can hold its own in the face of projections.  I think this shape will sit back, relax and laugh with family, friends, and strangers as the film of my life plays out regardless of whose lens is projecting.  It is the present moment in a movie theater with wonderful people that is most important to me now.

Inviting Mara to the Table

Buddhism is rich with storytelling and art.  One prominent figure in Buddhist art and lore is Mara.  Mara is a demon who challenges the Buddha both before and after achieving enlightenment.  He tries by various means to tempt the Buddha to stray from his path.  Mara is often depicted surrounding the continuous cycle of samsara represented in this wheel of life:

All of the stories of Mara that I have heard involve a temptation presented by Mara and a reply by the Buddha indicating that he has recognized Mara's presence.  They often end with, "sad and disappointed Mara vanishes."

Two such stories together encompass some thoughts that I have been playing with for a few weeks now.  In the first story the Buddha is sitting in meditation and Mara comes to tempt the Buddha.  The Buddha recognizes Mara and greets him saying, "I know who you are and you cannot hurt me."  Mara is indignant but the Buddha continues, "You are me!"  Sad and disappointed Mara vanishes.

The second story I heard recently.  Mara comes to the Buddha and accepting defeat kneels at the Buddha's feet and says, "I accept you as the Buddha the one true master and I ask to be your servant.  Tell me what it is that you would like me to do and I will do it.  Tell me how to act and I will be it."  The Buddha replies, "No, no, no, I need you to be exactly as you are."  At the Mara vanishes.

These stories resonate strongly with where I find myself lately.  I believe they reflect the practice of Loving-Kindness towards all beings (self-included) and recognition of the perfection of all things exactly as they are in the present moment.  They remind me of a poem by the Sufi poet Rumi:

The Guest House

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice.
meet them at the door laughing and invite them in.

Be grateful for whatever comes.
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

-- Jelaluddin Rumi,
    translation by Coleman Barks

I believe that the Buddhist ideal would be to invite Mara into your home (he is you after all), and to do so without the expectation that the darkness has a higher purpose.  To just sit with your self, with your suffering, with the suffering of others, and to see the deep nature that it is exactly what it is supposed to be in that moment.  Paradoxically that seems to put the suffering in context.  It is present, but not overwhelming.

Two Hands

I recently read about a very powerful practice in David Richo's The Five Things We Cannot Change.  It has been helpful for me in both my study of the duality inherent in Buddhism and in living my own life more mindfully.  This practice as described empowers me to takes seeming opposites and holds them both equally.  He uses the example of fear.

Fear can easily lead to a reactionary response, a conditioned response to avoid fear, anxiety, danger.  If I am afraid of what others may think I may act to control the situation by reacting and doing something to please others.  If I am mindful and use this practice I may act in a manner that recognizes this fear, and also honors my own needs and commitments.

I can hold my fear in one hand and my commitment to no longer act in a fear-based way in the other.  Somehow that combination seems more doable than no fear at all.

He continues:

A useful spiritual practice in any predicament is to hold both hands out, cupped, palms upward, and imagine them holding just such opposites.  We feel the light and equal weight of both, since our hands are empty.  We then say, for example, "I can serenely hold both my need for relationship and my not having one right now."

...

I have found that sometimes when I implement this practice I may act in the same manner as if I reacted, however when I mindfully act in this way I find that I am not tied to an outcome, but rather engaged in a process.  I am sure of my motives and I am not ashamed of my actions.

I honor myself by being true to myself and my own unique experience of the world.

David Richo emphasizes holding the current situation in one hand and the "power to work with it" in the other.  By doing both of these things we are able to honor our experience, but not be trapped in it.  It is a practice that acknowleges difficulties and also builds competene and self-esteem by working with difficulties as opposed to against them or in a way that avoids discomfort in our experience.  The later being impossible (see First Noble Truth).

Since this is a blog about Buddhism I will add that the seemingly opposite truth that my self, my being, my experience, etc. are also illusion.  I can hold these two truths serenely and with love in my heart.

Buddhism also teaches about dependent arising, impermanence and no-self.  In reflecting on this exercise I realize that it has been the recognition that two people having different experiences and truths can be equally "right."  The teachings of Buddhism seem to be pointing out that one person holding two "opposing" thoughts is similar to two people having unique experiences.  Both can be equally true.

The Buddha on Self-Care

If one going down into a river,
swollen and swiftly flowing,
is carried away by the current -
how can one help others across?
- The Buddha in Sutta Nipāta 2.321

When I saw this I had to share.  I have been trying to find the words to express the importance of nurses providing themselves with adequate self-care.  It has been pointed out by professors that this is something that nurses often struggle with, that nurses often have codependent tendencies, and that a lack of self-care leads to burnout and job dissatisfaction.

In my own life I have noticed in the last two years how taking care of my own needs leads to a more fulfilling life in which I am more available to help others.  I also find that I am less tied to specific outcomes and less stressed in general when I act because I want to and not because I think that a specific action will lead to a desirable outcome.

Although I have for years thought that acting (reacting) in this way was compassionate or altruistic the truth as I see it now is that I was reacting selfishly to save myself from suffering.  Many of my reactions were attempts to control the outcome of a situation.

It is my goal to act mindfully and accept that sometimes I can mindfully put my own needs ahead of those of another and trust that they will do the same.  This is empowering to both of us in ways that I did not experience as a youth.  I can see how I will both mindfully act to recognize a desire to control a situation and act out of compassion for myself.

The outcome of reaction and mindful action may look the same on paper (I may take the same action), however, when I have acted mindfully I have not regretted an action, and in some cases I have empowered others in ways reacting does not.

I am vowing to myself to act mindfully as a form of self-care
I am vowing to continue my exploration and implementation of self-care measures in my life.

The Second Noble Truth

Dukkha (suffering) arises

Dukkha does not exist in and of itself, but rather arises from other things.  According to the Buddha there is no such thing as Dukkha that is all pervasive and permanent.  It comes from somewhere.  It can only exist in relation to other things, as a result of other things.  However, dukkha is a permanent and pervasive aspect of a conditioned existence.  This distinction was explored in my discussion of the First Noble Truth.

The Second Noble Truth is that dukkha has a cause.  Buddhism teaches that the causes of dukkha are recognizable, understandable, and can be avoided.  Thich Nhat Hanh uses a great analogy in his book The Heart of the Buddha's Teaching in which he compares our actions to what we consume.  If we eat nutritious food, breath fresh air, enjoy wholesome company, etc we are nourishing our body/mind and it stays healthy and is able to do many wonderful things.  If we ingest toxins from our environment we will become sick and suffer. 

The core of the Second Noble Truth is that suffering has a cause.  By exploring ourselves we can begin to recognize the toxins we ingest that bring about suffering.  We are further able to understand what arises in us that inspires us to take in these things that do more harm than good.  This knowing allows us to make conscious decisions to avoid what causes suffering.  Avoiding the food that feeds suffering leads to the cessation of suffering.  Third and Fourth Noble Truths explore the cessation of suffering.