Another silent retreat. At the beginning you go in like a brand-spanking-new greenhouse, all glass walls and unsprouted seeds in bare dirt... and as time goes on, an atmosphere develops, and clouds form, and the seeds sprout and grow and bloom, and pretty soon you've got a whole ecosystem and condensation on the walls and broad jungle leaves blocking the view... Mostly, it's a very good thing, because it means you are alive and something is really happening, but it makes it nearly impossible to explain the experience! Like trying to explain how things are different after a spring rain...
At an afternoon sitting a few days in to the retreat, I started to feel sick. It's a familiar feeling, my stomach being the troublemaker that it is, but it's *really* unpleasant. And it makes it almost impossible to sit up or swallow. I tried all the tricks in my bag. First, I just acknowledge that I'm not feeling well and turn my attention to something else. When it gets bad enough that I can't pay attention to anything else, I try to dissect the experience. Which sensations are painful? Which are uncomfortable? How am I reacting? How very studious. Eventually, some little fuse blows in my mind and all my efforts to be calm and observant are out the window. I stay seated, but it's like trying to hold a squirming cat. And of course that's a losing battle... I was finally forced to get up and leave. In the middle of the sitting. In front of all those silent people sitting there, ears attuned to the tiniest of noises...
I got out of the hall and collapsed on to the floor, feeling sick, embarrassed, and cuttingly sarcastic with myself. Geez, said that nasty little voice in my mind, you might as well have busted out your toenail clipper, or power drill, or jackhammer. How considerate. Now they probably hate you. There is nothing you can do here to show your respect and concern for anyone except to not screw up, and you couldn't even manage that. I was lying on the floor listening to this voice - my own voice - taunt me like I was 8 years old again, cornered on the playground by a bully twice my size. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I started to cry. That nasty little voice became a whiny little voice. Listen to yourself, it said. You're treating yourself like rubbish. You're preying on your own weaknesses, and you're really, really good at it. How pathetic. Haven't you suffered enough already???
Yes, came a clear answer. Let's stop.
I opened my eyes. A new voice. My own voice, without a doubt, speaking in my own authentic way, from somewhere quiet. Not straining, not struggling, not trying to contort my experience in to something positive. Not trying to prove its kindness, not trying to be good, not trying to be better - just completely, utterly kind. There was no failure. Suddenly I felt the cool floorboards underneath me. I heard the silence all around me and felt the peacefullness that was still blanketing the meditation hall. I got up. I made tea.
I was fine.
May 14, 2009
conflict
Some people complain that Westerners are going to Buddhism like they go to Wal-Mart, picking what they like, leaving an ugly consumerist mess behind.
I am, apparently, one such Wal-Mart shopper. You can pin me with almost all of those negative stereotypes. I'm a middle class intellectual who lives a comfortable life and is pursuing a PhD. I don't consider myself Buddhist. I turned away, by choice, from religion because I couldn't stand being told what to think or believe. One thing I like about Buddhism - well, let's be specific, the practice taught here that includes among other things vipassana and metta - is its rationality and openness. I view it as somewhat scientific. I feel there is something of unspeakable value to be learned and known, but I am not interested in becoming a nun. I dislike complicated or unexplained rituals. I do not wish to revere authority simply because I am told to do so.
From one perspective, a somewhat bitter perspective in my opinion, I'm just another greedy Westerner who wants to apply a feel-good salve to her broken Western life at the expense of Asian tradition. If I'm going to be involved with Buddhism, I should call myself Buddhist (out of respect?). I shouldn't "pick and choose" which parts of Buddhism I pay attention to - the thing exists as a whole for good reasons laid down by smart people, and I am unwise to leave out the traditional aspects. I shouldn't be grabby - either I can live my opulent Western life, or I can ordain or become homeless and discover the true meaning of the teachings. I should be laughed at, or at least corrected, for insisting that there is a scientific quality to the teachings. I should believe Buddhist scholars about what is ethically correct before I should be so cocky as to trust myself, because I haven't thought about things as much as they have. I should not fool myself in to thinking that what I am doing is as valuable as what a real Buddhist is doing.
Oh, this makes me sad. And it scares me. Truly. This is precisely why I do not call myself Buddhist, and why I do not identify myself by any other label. Please, world, I beg you - do not judge me for following my heart. I am trying, with more earnestness than I could possibly convey, to wake up, to find out what is true, to bring happiness to the world instead of suffering. You do not have to believe me. I do not want to take anything away from you. I do not want you to think I am noble or correct.
This is so similar to the complaint that surfaces in Christian communities every December. Non-believers flock to churches on Christmas Eve, apparently, it would seem, to complete their sordid Christmas shopping list by taking advantage of the beauty that true believers create on such a special night. There is such outrage that these "cultural Christians" take comfort in a Christmas Eve service. I can imagine ways in which these infrequent church-goers could be a genuine problem - perhaps they are disrespectful, noisy, or otherwise clueless about how to participate. But I think most of them are respecful people with a genuine desire to mark a special day in a way that means something to them. Why is there such an impulse to deny them that opportunity? I do not think that they degrade Christianity with their sporadic enthusiasm and sharing. I do not think that their happiness is undeserved.
In some ways, I think it's human nature to want others to follow our path. This is evident to me even in daily life. If I find, while eating dinner, that combining my salad dressing and my mashed potatoes produces a fantastic new dish, I am likely to tell everybody at the table. I want them to experience it. Maybe I'll feel disappointed when my neighbor decides that she's perfectly happy with her food the way it is. This sort of thing happens all the time. Have you ever read a really fantastic article, and wanted everybody you know to read it, too? Some people will find it boring. Others will find it thrilling. Others will read the first paragraph and then become distracted by something that is more important to them at that time. In those moments we can have such a strong sense that THIS article is THE MOST IMPORTANT, and that everybody MUST see it. It's very strange.
This, I think, is the danger of religion. People have profound experiences, and they want to share. Some are intersted, others are not. There is this terrible tendency to think that if another person is not interested in following your path, he or she does not respect the depth of your experience, or even worse, denies that your experience is valid. This becomes so complicated when it comes to religious traditions. It is so easy to assume that if your neighbor does not do things exactly as you do them, he or she is missing out, and will never understand the wonderful things that you understand. I think this assumption comes, fundamentally, from a warm-hearted impulse, but is among the most damanging thoughs a human being can act upon.
The Buddha said:
“Do not believe in anything simply because you have heard it. Do not believe in anything simply because it is spoken and rumored by many. Do not believe in anything simply because it is found written in your religious books. Do not believe in anything merely on the authority of your teachers and elders. Do not believe in traditions because they have been handed down for many generations. But after observation and analysis, when you find that anything agrees with reason and is conducive to the good and benefit of one and all, then accept it and live up to it.”
This passage is oft-quoted by Western Buddhists, and perhaps they (I?) cling to it too hard, as proof that they are not being duped or brainwashed, as many fear. It may be that my love for this passage is merely a product of my cultural background, but if so, I am not ashamed, because I do not pretend to be somehow existant without a culture. I do think it is important. I think it invites us all to do that most vile deed, and "shop" for what we believe. I call it "shopping" in order to make a point, but I do not think there is anything consumerist or cheap about refusing labels and refusing to be told what to think. I realize that this very attitude, one focused on independence, is very Western, and that everything I say is being colored by it. There are no absolutes. I can prove nothing. I can only act.
But when one decries the intersection of Western ideals with Buddhist ideals, when one announces that Westerners can't possibly "achieve" anything with a watered-down Buddhism catered to their every desire... one misses the goodness that is already flowing in this newborn tradition. There is a certain sweetness here already. It is changing lives. Who cares whether or not it will "go as far" as Buddhism has in the East? We'll find out when we find out. Nothing is being desecrated. Right now - right here, and right now! - there is just a little more happiness. I've felt it - happiness isn't in the imagination.
In the end, we all want to be seen for who we really are. I am a middle class intellectual who lives in a co-op, organizes (among other things) for organic food to be delivered to my door, and believes strongly in living in a supportive, inclusive community. To the degree that I am able, I do not take part in consumerist culture, I tend the earth, I recycle, I reuse, I use technology responsibly, I take care of those around me, I take care of myself. I am pursuing a PhD in a subject which I truly believe will help relieve suffering. I don't consider myself a Buddhist because I don't want to espouse beliefs I haven't fully examined, and I don't want to be embroiled in conflict about which Way is Correct. I like the rationality and openness of Buddhist practice because I don't want to be a part of any belief system that is exclusive in any way. I view it as somewhat scientific because one's experience is not governed by the amount of one's faith. I am not interested in becoming a nun because I think I have more to offer the world on the path I'm taking and it would be false to abandon that notion. I dislike complicated or unexplained rituals because one can easily confuse the ritual itself with the quality of heart the ritual is supposed to invoke. I do not wish to revere authority when I am told to do so because I think there is more honor in being respected for a reason than for power.
That's all.
I am, apparently, one such Wal-Mart shopper. You can pin me with almost all of those negative stereotypes. I'm a middle class intellectual who lives a comfortable life and is pursuing a PhD. I don't consider myself Buddhist. I turned away, by choice, from religion because I couldn't stand being told what to think or believe. One thing I like about Buddhism - well, let's be specific, the practice taught here that includes among other things vipassana and metta - is its rationality and openness. I view it as somewhat scientific. I feel there is something of unspeakable value to be learned and known, but I am not interested in becoming a nun. I dislike complicated or unexplained rituals. I do not wish to revere authority simply because I am told to do so.
From one perspective, a somewhat bitter perspective in my opinion, I'm just another greedy Westerner who wants to apply a feel-good salve to her broken Western life at the expense of Asian tradition. If I'm going to be involved with Buddhism, I should call myself Buddhist (out of respect?). I shouldn't "pick and choose" which parts of Buddhism I pay attention to - the thing exists as a whole for good reasons laid down by smart people, and I am unwise to leave out the traditional aspects. I shouldn't be grabby - either I can live my opulent Western life, or I can ordain or become homeless and discover the true meaning of the teachings. I should be laughed at, or at least corrected, for insisting that there is a scientific quality to the teachings. I should believe Buddhist scholars about what is ethically correct before I should be so cocky as to trust myself, because I haven't thought about things as much as they have. I should not fool myself in to thinking that what I am doing is as valuable as what a real Buddhist is doing.
Oh, this makes me sad. And it scares me. Truly. This is precisely why I do not call myself Buddhist, and why I do not identify myself by any other label. Please, world, I beg you - do not judge me for following my heart. I am trying, with more earnestness than I could possibly convey, to wake up, to find out what is true, to bring happiness to the world instead of suffering. You do not have to believe me. I do not want to take anything away from you. I do not want you to think I am noble or correct.
This is so similar to the complaint that surfaces in Christian communities every December. Non-believers flock to churches on Christmas Eve, apparently, it would seem, to complete their sordid Christmas shopping list by taking advantage of the beauty that true believers create on such a special night. There is such outrage that these "cultural Christians" take comfort in a Christmas Eve service. I can imagine ways in which these infrequent church-goers could be a genuine problem - perhaps they are disrespectful, noisy, or otherwise clueless about how to participate. But I think most of them are respecful people with a genuine desire to mark a special day in a way that means something to them. Why is there such an impulse to deny them that opportunity? I do not think that they degrade Christianity with their sporadic enthusiasm and sharing. I do not think that their happiness is undeserved.
In some ways, I think it's human nature to want others to follow our path. This is evident to me even in daily life. If I find, while eating dinner, that combining my salad dressing and my mashed potatoes produces a fantastic new dish, I am likely to tell everybody at the table. I want them to experience it. Maybe I'll feel disappointed when my neighbor decides that she's perfectly happy with her food the way it is. This sort of thing happens all the time. Have you ever read a really fantastic article, and wanted everybody you know to read it, too? Some people will find it boring. Others will find it thrilling. Others will read the first paragraph and then become distracted by something that is more important to them at that time. In those moments we can have such a strong sense that THIS article is THE MOST IMPORTANT, and that everybody MUST see it. It's very strange.
This, I think, is the danger of religion. People have profound experiences, and they want to share. Some are intersted, others are not. There is this terrible tendency to think that if another person is not interested in following your path, he or she does not respect the depth of your experience, or even worse, denies that your experience is valid. This becomes so complicated when it comes to religious traditions. It is so easy to assume that if your neighbor does not do things exactly as you do them, he or she is missing out, and will never understand the wonderful things that you understand. I think this assumption comes, fundamentally, from a warm-hearted impulse, but is among the most damanging thoughs a human being can act upon.
The Buddha said:
“Do not believe in anything simply because you have heard it. Do not believe in anything simply because it is spoken and rumored by many. Do not believe in anything simply because it is found written in your religious books. Do not believe in anything merely on the authority of your teachers and elders. Do not believe in traditions because they have been handed down for many generations. But after observation and analysis, when you find that anything agrees with reason and is conducive to the good and benefit of one and all, then accept it and live up to it.”
This passage is oft-quoted by Western Buddhists, and perhaps they (I?) cling to it too hard, as proof that they are not being duped or brainwashed, as many fear. It may be that my love for this passage is merely a product of my cultural background, but if so, I am not ashamed, because I do not pretend to be somehow existant without a culture. I do think it is important. I think it invites us all to do that most vile deed, and "shop" for what we believe. I call it "shopping" in order to make a point, but I do not think there is anything consumerist or cheap about refusing labels and refusing to be told what to think. I realize that this very attitude, one focused on independence, is very Western, and that everything I say is being colored by it. There are no absolutes. I can prove nothing. I can only act.
But when one decries the intersection of Western ideals with Buddhist ideals, when one announces that Westerners can't possibly "achieve" anything with a watered-down Buddhism catered to their every desire... one misses the goodness that is already flowing in this newborn tradition. There is a certain sweetness here already. It is changing lives. Who cares whether or not it will "go as far" as Buddhism has in the East? We'll find out when we find out. Nothing is being desecrated. Right now - right here, and right now! - there is just a little more happiness. I've felt it - happiness isn't in the imagination.
In the end, we all want to be seen for who we really are. I am a middle class intellectual who lives in a co-op, organizes (among other things) for organic food to be delivered to my door, and believes strongly in living in a supportive, inclusive community. To the degree that I am able, I do not take part in consumerist culture, I tend the earth, I recycle, I reuse, I use technology responsibly, I take care of those around me, I take care of myself. I am pursuing a PhD in a subject which I truly believe will help relieve suffering. I don't consider myself a Buddhist because I don't want to espouse beliefs I haven't fully examined, and I don't want to be embroiled in conflict about which Way is Correct. I like the rationality and openness of Buddhist practice because I don't want to be a part of any belief system that is exclusive in any way. I view it as somewhat scientific because one's experience is not governed by the amount of one's faith. I am not interested in becoming a nun because I think I have more to offer the world on the path I'm taking and it would be false to abandon that notion. I dislike complicated or unexplained rituals because one can easily confuse the ritual itself with the quality of heart the ritual is supposed to invoke. I do not wish to revere authority when I am told to do so because I think there is more honor in being respected for a reason than for power.
That's all.
May 13, 2009
Emily
Emily the Rat died on April 25th. She was euthanized because she had at least 3 tumors, one of which was inoperable and probably cancerous, and was unable to walk, groom or eat normally.
It was absolutely heartbreaking.
It was absolutely heartbreaking.
Emily in 2008, drinking mango juice out of a bottle cap.
The last photo of Emily, a few days before she died, curled up in her little house.
This seems like a good time to point out just how much I love this cat, Lilah.
She hangs out in the garden like a jungle cat.
She tolerates our affections.
She hangs out in the garden like a jungle cat.
She tolerates our affections.
And she really, really knows a good sunpatch when she sees one.update #2
Next year, I will be studying biomedical neuroscience and pharmacology at Boston University School of Medicine. I will have a good salary. I will have health insurance. This is a HUGE relief.
This acceptance was strange beyond belief. My application was discovered the day before the acceptance deadline, long after all the other applicants had been notified. It had been lost. Some very kind faculty called me up and we embarked on a bizarre week-long roller coaster of phone interviews, missed meetings, and extended deadlines before I was finally interviewed - unexpectedly - for a full 3 hours by faculty members. I was offered admission that evening. I accepted the next day. It's a good program. If you want to know more, here's a link.
The faculty members at BU were kind in many ways, but perhaps their greatest kindness was in helping me understand why I was not admitted initially, and why I was not admitted to other schools. As usual, with greater understanding has come greater acceptance of the unease of this spring.
I was honest. I spoke too much about interests other than science. I spoke too much about this year that I've taken off in order to examine my life. I did not "sell" myself. I wrote about my ethical concerns. I did not define a career path. I refused to be certain about what I want to do with my life. I wrote about my distaste for academic hierarchy and pecking order. I tried hard - too hard - to explain who I REALLY am, and it backfired. Instead of coming across as a thoughtful person trying desperately to make a choice that will benefit the world, I came across as a flaky person who could not be relied upon to deal with challenges. They did not trust me to finish the program. They wondered if I really cared about science at all, given how much I spoke about other things.
When I first heard this, I was incredibly frustrated. I put such a lot of effort in to authenticity, and not only did those efforts go unnoticed, I was regarded with great suspicion. Is there no such thing as a scientist with a heart and a mind for ethics? But the frustration faded in to... something else. I don't exactly feel as though I did "the right thing" in writing what I did on my applications - obviously I failed to communicate effectively about myself as a scientist. But neither do I regret not defining a career path or refusing to be certain about where I am going. I will not close doors now... not ever.
Somehow, this will work out.
This acceptance was strange beyond belief. My application was discovered the day before the acceptance deadline, long after all the other applicants had been notified. It had been lost. Some very kind faculty called me up and we embarked on a bizarre week-long roller coaster of phone interviews, missed meetings, and extended deadlines before I was finally interviewed - unexpectedly - for a full 3 hours by faculty members. I was offered admission that evening. I accepted the next day. It's a good program. If you want to know more, here's a link.
The faculty members at BU were kind in many ways, but perhaps their greatest kindness was in helping me understand why I was not admitted initially, and why I was not admitted to other schools. As usual, with greater understanding has come greater acceptance of the unease of this spring.
I was honest. I spoke too much about interests other than science. I spoke too much about this year that I've taken off in order to examine my life. I did not "sell" myself. I wrote about my ethical concerns. I did not define a career path. I refused to be certain about what I want to do with my life. I wrote about my distaste for academic hierarchy and pecking order. I tried hard - too hard - to explain who I REALLY am, and it backfired. Instead of coming across as a thoughtful person trying desperately to make a choice that will benefit the world, I came across as a flaky person who could not be relied upon to deal with challenges. They did not trust me to finish the program. They wondered if I really cared about science at all, given how much I spoke about other things.
When I first heard this, I was incredibly frustrated. I put such a lot of effort in to authenticity, and not only did those efforts go unnoticed, I was regarded with great suspicion. Is there no such thing as a scientist with a heart and a mind for ethics? But the frustration faded in to... something else. I don't exactly feel as though I did "the right thing" in writing what I did on my applications - obviously I failed to communicate effectively about myself as a scientist. But neither do I regret not defining a career path or refusing to be certain about where I am going. I will not close doors now... not ever.
Somehow, this will work out.
Apr 6, 2009
cooking for pika <3
Cooking for pika is a blast. You get to turn this lovely assortment of vegetables in to...
This lovely mushroom soup, made with home-made stock... I don't even like mushrooms and I like this soup...
These excellent baked red potatoes (organic, yay!)...
This cauliflower-watercress-chard stir fry...
And this tasty chocolate cake. Nobody doesn't love good food!
Mar 29, 2009
ouch
A few afternoons ago, my grandmother suggested (as we sat by a sunny window in the Museum of Science cafe, watching the river) that I continue to write here, despite having nothing sunny or insightful to say. She probably knows what she's talking about, being an octogenarian and all.
Well. In one big breath, I was rejected from all the graduate programs I applied to, I was rejected from all the orchestras I auditioned for, I'm losing money because my job doesn't pay me enough, I have no idea what I will be doing next year, and my health has suffered seriously under all this stress.
I've watched as almost everybody I know has gone through tense moments - waiting for graduate school admissions, job offers, summer opportunities, audition results - and emerged with nervous, relieved smiles on their faces. People knocking on my door late in the evening, holding tight to a letter, sighing their sighs of relief... It's not that I'm not happy for them - I am - or even that I'm particularly jealous. It's the feeling of shame that really gets me, watching everybody else emerge from their respective battles victorious. Makes me cringe every time. As if everybody I know is sailing on past me, catching wave after wave of hard-earned opportunity, while I sit helplessly with the rubble of my little shipwreck. Where did I go wrong?
My GPA was high enough, that can't be the problem. Had a nearly perfect GRE score. Very good recommendations (including the head of a department that rejected me), and they were all turned in on time. Few years of research experience. Couple of awards. I think the essays were OK. For the first few weeks, I mentally ran through my qualifications over and over, as if I'd suddenly realize, on the five-thousandth repetition, that I forgot to submit an application or that my GRE score was actually horrible. Of course, that didn't get me anywhere. But so far, nobody has been able to offer any insight in to the situation. I have no idea what went wrong. No idea at all.
Of course, it's not all misery and woe. You hear the news, you spend an afternoon staring out the window at the rain, and then you bounce back. The job hunt is on. Life hasn't stopped short. But neither has it really gone back to normal. People ask me how I am and I have no idea how to respond. The truth is that I'm constantly worried - about money, about getting a job, about what it means that I can't seem to do what I want with my life - and that I don't feel well. I feel left out, left behind, and just plain sick. It's been a month since I had a day during which I felt completely well, and eating has become difficult again. Sleeping, too. And I haven't been able to run for over a week.
On the other hand, last night I slept through the night for the first time in weeks, and on top of that, I didn't wake up feeling sick. I *am* trying very hard. Plenty of meditation, rest, vegetables, water, and rational reminders to my panicked self that this is not the end-all of anything at all. This is just another experience, another friend to meet along the road... and how I respond will speak more boldly about who I want to be than any letter of acceptance ever could. Maybe things are beginning to look up... maybe, as everybody keeps reminding me (much to my annoyance), this might be the best thing that ever happened to me. I have to admit that it sure doesn't feel that way, but it'd probably be good for me and everybody else if I stopped rolling my eyes at the suggestion ;)
PS. I already stopped rolling my eyes.
Well. In one big breath, I was rejected from all the graduate programs I applied to, I was rejected from all the orchestras I auditioned for, I'm losing money because my job doesn't pay me enough, I have no idea what I will be doing next year, and my health has suffered seriously under all this stress.
I've watched as almost everybody I know has gone through tense moments - waiting for graduate school admissions, job offers, summer opportunities, audition results - and emerged with nervous, relieved smiles on their faces. People knocking on my door late in the evening, holding tight to a letter, sighing their sighs of relief... It's not that I'm not happy for them - I am - or even that I'm particularly jealous. It's the feeling of shame that really gets me, watching everybody else emerge from their respective battles victorious. Makes me cringe every time. As if everybody I know is sailing on past me, catching wave after wave of hard-earned opportunity, while I sit helplessly with the rubble of my little shipwreck. Where did I go wrong?
My GPA was high enough, that can't be the problem. Had a nearly perfect GRE score. Very good recommendations (including the head of a department that rejected me), and they were all turned in on time. Few years of research experience. Couple of awards. I think the essays were OK. For the first few weeks, I mentally ran through my qualifications over and over, as if I'd suddenly realize, on the five-thousandth repetition, that I forgot to submit an application or that my GRE score was actually horrible. Of course, that didn't get me anywhere. But so far, nobody has been able to offer any insight in to the situation. I have no idea what went wrong. No idea at all.
Of course, it's not all misery and woe. You hear the news, you spend an afternoon staring out the window at the rain, and then you bounce back. The job hunt is on. Life hasn't stopped short. But neither has it really gone back to normal. People ask me how I am and I have no idea how to respond. The truth is that I'm constantly worried - about money, about getting a job, about what it means that I can't seem to do what I want with my life - and that I don't feel well. I feel left out, left behind, and just plain sick. It's been a month since I had a day during which I felt completely well, and eating has become difficult again. Sleeping, too. And I haven't been able to run for over a week.
On the other hand, last night I slept through the night for the first time in weeks, and on top of that, I didn't wake up feeling sick. I *am* trying very hard. Plenty of meditation, rest, vegetables, water, and rational reminders to my panicked self that this is not the end-all of anything at all. This is just another experience, another friend to meet along the road... and how I respond will speak more boldly about who I want to be than any letter of acceptance ever could. Maybe things are beginning to look up... maybe, as everybody keeps reminding me (much to my annoyance), this might be the best thing that ever happened to me. I have to admit that it sure doesn't feel that way, but it'd probably be good for me and everybody else if I stopped rolling my eyes at the suggestion ;)
PS. I already stopped rolling my eyes.
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