Why I Became a Buddhist

I guess you could say I became a buddhist because I wanted to go out on a date. 

About ten years ago I was involved with a leftist political group and I was trying to get the attention of one of the women I worked with.  Problem was she was a little intimidating.  She had travelled around the world, spoke several languages,  had lived on a boat for a year and she had met some famous and important people.  Me, I was nothing special.  Single father of a four year old.   Decent sense of humor but not particularly attractive.  As for foreign travel experience, well, let's just say I had really enjoyed my trip to Toronto.

I wanted to get her to notice me a little;  I wanted her to think I wasn't just another guy.  From talking to her I knew she had an interest in Buddhism so I went online, internet-searched Pittsburgh and Buddhism,  found a sangha and started sitting with them.  I told people that I wanted to be happier and more compassionate.

So that was my idea:  I was sure that if I were a buddhist and talked to her about Buddhism then she would decide to date me.

Did my plan work?  Of course not.  It failed spectacularly.  She never did go out with me but we did become friends.  Did this experience teach me anything about how not to ask a woman out?  Probably.  I hope so.

The funny thing was, I didn't stop being a buddhist.  Even after that woman had left Pittsburgh, moved to another city, got a new job and a new boyfriend, I kept going to sit with the sangha.  I started a daily practice.   I bought a zafu, read some of our teacher's books, attended retreats.  And as time went on I found that I honestly enjoyed my practice.  I decided I was a real buddhist after all.

I wouldn't say that I changed paths.  It seems more likely that I simply learned what path I was really on.  I thought I was lying when I told people that I wanted happiness and compassion, but then I discovered that was true.  What I thought was the truth of my practice, that I was just trying to impress someone, turned out to be false.  It wouldn't be the last time that Buddhism turned my perspective upside down and inside out.

Why did I become a buddhist?  I guess it's complicated.  Why does anyone do anything?  A couple of months ago my son, who is fourteen and should know better, stuck an airsoft bb so far into his ear that I had to take him to an ENT specialist to have it sucked out.  "Why on earth did you do that?" I asked him.  I'm still waiting for an answer.

Eat Like A Monk

After reading "The Angry Monk" in the Utne Reader, I was reminded of something that happened to me while on retreat and I decided to post it here.  I'm not sure why;  the connection between that wonderful article and this slight little story seems tenuous at best.  But here it is:



Several years ago I attended a week-long retreat that my teacher and his monastics were holding one summer on a small college campus.  There were close to a thousand people there.

One day, in line for lunch at the cafeteria, I found myself standing right behind one of the monastics.  On the spot I invented a practice for myself.  For that meal I would "eat like a monk."  Whatever he put on his tray, I would put on mine.

So that was how it went.  He got a salad, I got a salad.  He put soy sauce on his salad, I put soy sauce on my salad.  He got a banana, I got a banana.  He got a bottle of lemon-lime Powerade and I....

I just stopped, looked at him, and asked myself "Powerade?  Monks aren't allowed to drink Powerade.  Are they?" 

But even as the question formed itself I knew that the answer wasn't important.  What was important was that I really, really didn't like Powerade.

And so my "eat like a monk" practice came to a close.

I forget what I had to drink that day.  I think it was water.
Or Dr. Pepper.

Am I Sure?

"Don't trust your mind.  It's not always listening." 
-Katie Melua


The other day I read an magazine article about my teacher that did not portray him in a very good light.  The article concerned a long-ago discussion that he had had with a famous peace activist.  As the author described it, this took place at an organized public event and there was a small audience in attendance.   However nothing went as planned.  The discussion began awkwardly and then quickly turned into a heated argument about, of all things, compassion.  What's more, my teacher is portrayed as the instigator of that argument.

When I first read this, I wasn't upset or even disappointed in my teacher.  In fact I smiled a little and decided, "well, this proves he is human and sometimes he can speak as unskillfully as anyone else."    That evening I brought the magazine to my sangha and read parts of the article to make that very point.

Then someone in the group gently pointed out that maybe the author's description of the event was inaccurate. She reminded us that often our teacher will speak very directly, like "the diamond that cuts through illusion" to make sure that others fully receive the impact of what he is saying.   Perhaps in this discussion he knew exactly what he was doing and was choosing his words in a way that was appropriate to the situation.  

As I thought about what she said, I began to see the article differently.  After all, this event took place decades ago.  Maybe the author did not perceive it correctly.  Maybe his memory of what happened was faulty.  Our teacher's recollection of the event is not described in the article so we don't have his perspective.  Taking all this into account, I realized that I had failed to give my teacher the benefit of the doubt.

I like the phrase, "benefit of the doubt".  It reminds me that doubt can be a gift that we give to someone before judging them or thinking harshly of them.  Under the right circumstances and in the right proportion, doubt is an act of compassion and loving-kindness.

Certainty, on the other hand, has gotten me into trouble more times that I can count.  Usually when I become angry, it is because I am absolutely convinced that I am right and someone else is wrong.  I don't stop to consider the other person's point of view.  I just go ahead and charge in.  The result is suffering both for the other person and for myself.

My teacher says that doubt is an important part of our practice.  He is always instructing his followers to ask ourselves, "am I sure?"  I would probably do myself a big favor by having that little teaching tattooed on my forehead in reverse lettering so I could see it every time I looked in the mirror. 

On second thought, maybe I'll just use a sharpie.


Bowing to my teacher
Bowing to all Buddhas to be

Let's go Pens

hb

What I can do

Today I read a New York Times article about three men in the Bronx who were held captive and tortured because of their sexual preference.  The alleged perpetrators are now in custody and the police are investigating.  I should link to the article but I can't.  What happened was too horrifying.  My teacher says we are not supposed to avoid suffering but honestly I would rather not have that article on my blog.

When I read about what happened I was furious.    I wanted to hurt the people who are accused of this crime, to make sure they received in full measure the suffering they had delivered to others.   This went on for a while and I became more and more miserable.  Finally I stopped, took some breaths and worked to calm myself down.

I started to think about all the other people who would read that article.  I imagined them reacting like I did, becoming angry and frustrated.  Then I imagined them going about their day, spreading that anger to others.   What would happen to all the anger that was created?  Could anything good possibly come of it?   I began to understand a little how this whole karma principle works.  How cause and effect are carried on endlessly,  how suffering is created, continued, compounded.  Karma is efficient and it is brutal.

Every moment of our lives carries equal weight.  There are no unimportant moments.  No inconsequential actions.  I can't change what happened to those men in New York.  I can't change what will happen to them or their perpetrators.  But at this moment I can vow to take care of my anger.   I can hug my kid, I can smile at the person behind the counter at the coffee shop.  I can weep for those who are victimized.  I can call my friends.

These things I can do.

Wild Mind

As I wrote above, circumstances have recently brought me back to a regular buddhist practice.  I've reconnected with old friends and have been sitting with a small start-up sangha.  

Now, largely through the web and social media, I'm coming across more and more teachers to follow.  All of a sudden. there are so many practices to learn, so many points of view, so many great blogs to follow, podcasts to listen to and books to read.  Almost every other day I discover a new teacher that I want to learn from.  It's getting to be overwhelming.

And so my mind has entered into a kind of wild state, trying to do too much and not accomplishing anything.  There is so little time.  Even if I were to abandon my householder life and become a monk, studying constantly, there still would not be enough time to fully develop my practice.  There couldn't possibly be enough time.

So I'm going back to the beginning.  My practice now is only to settle my mind and quiet things down.    I'm putting down the buddhist books for a little while.  Maybe I'll read Ball Four by Jim Bouton.

With gratitude to all Dharma teachers.
Bowing to all Buddhas to be.

Let's go Pens.

hb

Scorching the Earth

A few years ago I left my teacher after what was for me, but not for him, a serious disagreement. When it was all over I had pretty well scorched the earth.  I had cut ties with my teacher's core group, returned to him my certificate of lay ordination, given up the dharma name he had chosen for me, and I had written him an angry letter that contained the line "F--- you and the Dharma you rode in on."

I never did send the letter, fortunately, but spent the next few years neglecting my practice and nursing a grudge. It wasn't pretty.   Or healthy.

It's taken me this long to get over myself and to start renewing my practice.  For the past couple of months I've been sitting regularly and doing walking meditation.  I've been studying more.  I've even done some chanting, (although chanting really isn't my favorite practice)  Friends, books,  buddhists on twitter, these have all helped.  If anything, I feel like I'm part of  a larger, more diverse sangha than before.  That's why I've started this blog.  It too is part of my sangha now, or at least an expression of thankfulness for that sangha.

I'm coming to terms with what happened years ago.  It makes me feel small that it's taken me this long.  If I were a better practitioner,  I wouldn't have let things get as far as they did.  I certainly wasted alot of time being bitter and I won't get that time back. 

I've started to follow my teacher again. I think of him often and recently have been practicing Metta meditation for him.  He's not my only teacher anymore.  It seems I'm discovering new teachers every day.  But he was the first and I imagine his teachings will always live near the root of my practice.  Still he no longer looks the same to me.  Hard to pin it down but something has changed.  Maybe now he just looks more like a human being.

Bowing in gratitude to all Buddhas to be,

hb