“In love with the world” by Yongey Mingyur Rinpoche.

I got this book almost two years ago.  

When I started reading, I found the reading too intense—so much so that I couldn’t continue after the first 50 pages or so. By intense, I mean that it felt too precious and important, like being presented with a five-star five-course meal when I was more in the mood for eating tacos or a pizza.

So, I put it away for well over a year. Got busy with worldly involvement and forgot about it, basically.

Then a few months ago—with so little happening in this thing called “my life”—I thought to myself that I ought to take another look. I made a promise to myself that I’d read just a page or two a day, and no more. About half the days, I found myself shedding tears (briefly) at the clarity of his words and the depth of his devotion and dedication. At odd moments in the day, I would find his words reverberating and intruding upon my reality.  

Then about a little over a week ago, I just gave in and let myself read three to five pages at each sitting! Haha. I was nearing the end anyhow.  

And yesterday, I finished.  

**

I’ve likely read 70 - 80 books in the past five years, which isn’t a lot, but it’s also not too little. This is my favorite book of the bunch. I already know. 

I have a top-five list of my lifetime. I might place this first on that list as well. I’m now going to begin a re-read today to see if it holds up there. Well, not really. I want to re-read it because it’s like watching a movie that you’re mesmerized by all the way through. You immediately want to rewatch it because you’re not sure what you’ve just experienced. And you want to make sure that you can glean whatever it is that you might have missed the first time.

**

Ps- #2 on the list of the best books of the 70-to-80-or-so of the past five years is “Reality: A very short introduction” by Jan Westerhoff.  This was more fun stuff.  I’d say that if you have some familiarity with reading philosophy, it’ll be straight-forward. If not, it’ll be a minor grind—not too hard but not a total breeze either. Some of the arguments given are fine-grained and might require one to slow down at times.

On silver linings...

I recently overheard a woman say, “Sometimes when things are dark, there’s a hidden blessing that you can’t see at the moment. It’s only later when your life is much different and better that you feel grateful and realize that it was all a blessing.” Or something like that.

As I was listening, I was thinking, “Oh boy. You’re in for a rough ride then. You’ve basically signed on for the Sisyphean life-adventure package!”

I thought it because if her measure of improvement is having a new and better life, then she’ll one day have to wake up to the fact that the new life will also one day become wretched and difficult, or else, be taken away from her as well, only to have to rebuild a new life yet again. This might occur incrementally or in one fell swoop, but it will happen.

When things are going bad, the blessing isn’t that we have something better coming down the pike. The blessing is that it provides an opportunity to train the mind and heart. For example, it’s easy to be grateful when things are good. It’s much harder to be grateful when someone you care for is dying or has died. It’s much harder to be grateful when you’re down in the dumps and nothing’s working in your life. But we don’t get to develop such capacities for gratitude unless we’re put in the dumps where we can practice then. That’s the blessing: the opportunity for internal change. Not what comes afterwards in our lives, externally.

And yet, the gift of darkness is only a gift if we practice training our minds in the midst of it. Otherwise, it’s just darkness. Neither good nor bad. Mostly misery, only to be followed by temporary relief and seeming improvement that doesn’t last.

If we’re not using the period of darkness and depression to train our minds and our hearts in the midst of it, then we’re sentencing ourselves to a Sisyphean fate, that of pushing the boulder of hope and promise up some existential hill, only to watch it roll down to the bottom, all so that we can do it again. And again. For an eternity…

…until we wake up to the fact that the single-minded pursuit of improving external conditions is at the root of this fixation, this seemingly never-ending plight.

On pride...

Whenever people talk of humility, I think of its opposite, which might be pride. And when I think of pride, I think of how the Tibetans talk of it: "Pride is like a solid iron ball that doesn’t allow for the moisture of truth to penetrate."

**

I consider life to be inherently self-correcting: there’s a constant feedback loop going on between self and life, where life—whether from within or without—is offering feedback on how we’re doing. For example, if we’re too loose in our approach, we’ll get some indication that we’re lacking discipline and rigor in our lives (even our bodies will give us such indication, as it did me a year or so ago, when I realized and was even told I was overweight! Haha. Thank you friends who are part of my self-corrective feedback mechanism!) And if we’re too tight, we might get a signal that we need to loosen up and relax a bit more (such as when one of the same friends told me, “Yuichi, that’s enough. Don’t lose any more weight.” Another said, “Too skinny now!” lol.)

Or it could be like this: we meet someone who sets off all sorts of chemicals in us, and so we become enchanted (from the Latin incantare (“to cast a spell upon”)), as in we fall under a spell of sorts. This is fine in itself, but it’s important to pay attention to the feedback from within and without. Perhaps a few close friends advise us to be careful or to take it slow. They may even advise against our involvement. But if we suffer from pride, we might not want that kind of input or feedback. There may be some truth to what’s being said, but our pride doesn’t allow for that bit of truth to enter us; we wouldn’t want it to ruin the spell. So, we delay on the advice till things get worse—or even disastrous—a few months or years down the line to realize that the feedback loop was always there—active, alive, and at least partially truthful to things as they were.

The problem with pride—if we work with the Tibetan concept of it—is that it keeps us deaf and blind to the guidance that’s *always* present.

So, what's the workaround?

Here's one: It’s to carefully consider feedback and input that we find disagreeable, or even to privilege such input above others. It’s the second line below from Kipling’s “If”--

"If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
but make allowance for their doubting too."

The poet isn’t suggesting we necessarily follow what others tell us. No, but by “making allowance” for others’ doubts toward us, we’re more likely to suss out what it is within their opinions that possibly challenges us to grow as human beings. And in turn, we benefit from the input.

On the other hand, if we find ourselves responding to input and suggestions with defensiveness, or some variation of “I’m just being myself,” that’s usually a reliable indicator of pride (i.e., "solid iron ball"). It’s basically saying, “I don’t want displeasing input to compel me to have to change and to grow.”

If one thinks about "being oneself," it’s impossible to be anything but oneself, so it's an empty statement to make. If I’m being a chameleon, then that’s who I am. And if I want to change that, then I change it. The notion of a fixed self has been debunked by just about every discipline there is. In short, there is no core self that’s immune to change. So what would it even mean to say that one is being oneself? Again, it's meaningless in and of itself, and basically suggests a kind of indolence as in, "Please don't challenge me to change my thoughts on things, especially myself. I'm comfortable where I am. And I'll defend this love of comfort even at the cost of our relationship.”

**

In the spirit of allowing for disagreeable input, I've been reading in the area of Christianity as of late! 😂🤣😅 Still don't buy a good chunk of it, especially its central thesis. But I did come across this line by St. John of the Cross that I found lovely and heartening--"In order to come to be all, desire in all things to be nothing." ♥️

Ashes to ashes...

The word humility derives from the Latin humus (meaning, “earth/ground”). As such, humility hearkens us to our ultimate end here, which is that of returning to dust—-back to the earth.

I find this vision of humility much more palatable than the typical Judeo-Christian vision of submitting to a Godhead or that of acting with meekness.

When I remember that my fate is to become part of the dust of the earth, I find myself relieved. No big deals anymore! I can relax from the core of my being. And out of that relaxed (or really, *released*) state, I’m somehow reminded of my heart; or it’s that *the heart asserts itself into a consciousness unencumbered by self-concern*—and its a tender and vulnerable heart from which an unfettered love seemingly emanates.

This phenomenon of temporary release from self-concern due to a confrontation with impermanence and death, leading to a touch of the tenderest love is one I’m familiar with. It’s a neural pathway I’ve grooved through reflecting upon my ultimate dissolution for hundreds, possibly thousands of hours for nearly the past ten years.

So, the next time someone mentions humility, I think I’ll utilize it as an opportunity to deepen this same groove, to reflect upon the beginning and end of my time here--"ashes to ashes, dust to dust," as the Catholics say (and as Dr. John sang/spoke in "Didn't he ramble?").

**

Anyone who knows me knows I’m no Christian, and yet, I find myself enchanted by the poetry of Genesis 3:19: “By the sweat of your brow you will eat your food until you return to the ground, since from it you were taken; for dust you are and to dust you will return."

Such a lovely sentiment, I find. Sometimes, life can feel hard. And to know that there’s a nice nap coming is such a relief! It’s not that one wants to hurtle toward that nap, but it gives one courage and determination to keep at it even when things are challenging because there’s rest that’s promised down the line.

Naturally, I'll be disappointed if I end up having to *toil* in hell, or else to listen to countless sermons in heaven. “I just wanted a fucking nap!” I’ll be screaming at whoever is in charge. 🤣

On humility and obedience...

Humility is a word that I relate very little to. Not only that, I have zero aspirations to embodying whatever that may entail. In short, it’s something I have little interest in.

On the other hand, I’m very interested in the quality of obedience.

I think the difference is that the former is a description of being whereas the latter connotes how one chooses and acts in this world. It would be similar to the contrast between being smart or intelligent vs. inquiring into reality. Maybe for some, becoming *something* is important—such as being humble or intelligent. But to me, acting in obedience or with curiosity is more compelling.

Also, I don’t think it works to aim toward humility, intelligence, or any of such states of being. I think it was Krishnamurti who said that intelligence is the *natural byproduct* of seeking truth, beauty, love, and so on. I believe the same can be said of humility, as being a natural byproduct of some process. My proposition here is that that process is that of obedience.

A quick word on obedience though.

Obedience comes from the Latin oboedire, or ob (“to”) + audire (“listen, hear”). So to become obedient isn’t to become someone’s dog, or to become a mindless follower. It’s to listen and to hear what’s being offered. If one doesn’t listen well, one can’t follow well. Or put in its logically-equivalent contrapositive, if one wants to follow well, one has to listen well. That is, to follow the whisperings of the universe, one must first learn to hear it. This to me is the true spirit of obedience. To become obedient is to quiet myself down, and listen intently for what’s being asked of me. When I do this well, I can hear things I couldn’t before. In particular, I come to hear where the currents of Life are flowing, and when I do, I mosey on over there and ride those currents. And life flows.

This is the upshot of obedience as far as I’m concerned. Not obedience to you or to my ego. Not obedience to some conceptual figurehead, but to Life itself.

And the wonder of it all is that it's a process whereby the self becomes thinned, little by little. And that's the grand prize! Less self = less suffering = greater freedom and joy. 😊

For the apatheist...

I’m convinced that a belief in God is one of the more useful heuristics available to us humans. Whether there exists one or not isn’t so important. It’s more the suspension of disbelief that seems to matter.

It’s like going to see a movie. If one is wasting one’s time debating whether the story is real or not, one misses the point. The point is to suspend disbelief and to enjoy the story. When the movie is over, one can go back to reminding oneself that the whole thing was a fiction but that it was a useful fiction in that one got to experience different emotions and maybe even learned some things about oneself or life. It might even have been enjoyable!

Similarly, a belief in God can be an enjoyable kind of illusion. But more than anything, I think it’s a useful one.

I personally don’t know anyone who is able to live in a non-dualistic frame of mind continuously. The best I know of can touch into that here and there. From a non-dualistic state, a belief in God is nonsense. It’s no different than a belief in dogshit. Or a donut. But again, who is able to live in such a state continuously?

So what does one do when one’s reality is that there is a self and there are others (i.e., dualism)? Might as well project out that which is sacred and omnipresent toward some seemingly divine being “out there” or “within” (doesn’t matter, same thing), and pretend to pray to that great being while understanding that nothing is really happening. Or maybe something important *is* happening? A Buddhist might say that one is actually purifying one’s karma so that the non-dualistic view might assert itself eventually?

It would be a little like believing and praying while dreaming. Is it more important to believe in some divine being while dreaming, or simply to wake up *within* the dream to realize that one was dreaming? I think most of us would say the latter, but if one is convinced that everything is real within the dream, then believing and praying within that dream might be better than panicking and making a scene while in the dream.

But again, it likely doesn’t matter since one wakes up eventually.

Back and forth we go, over and over. 😝😂😁

**

A note on the accompanying photograph: I chose this photograph because it represents two planes of living for me. There’s the everyday life as represented by the house and all the clutter around it. It’s here that a belief in God feels relevant, kind of to help keep things in order.

Then, there’s Mt Fuji, which looms in the backdrop. Always there, always present. And undeniable. What use is a belief at this point?

The mountain represents absolute reality, that of non-dualism: there is no I, there is no other. Just is. And seemingly infinite and eternal. This is waking up.

On requests and demands

There’s a simple way for me to discern the difference between a request and a demand—watch my reaction when I’m denied. If I feel upset in any way, it was a demand (as in beset with expectations).

So the trick might be to shed one’s expectations.

In the Dharma, there are said to be three primary imbalances of the mind. These are sometimes called clinging, aversion, and ignorance.

Going backwards, one can think of ignorance as similar to psychological denial.

Aversion is not liking things as they are, and the two primary ways in which most of us react to such a state of affairs are through anger and/or fear—or pushing away and pulling away, respectively, from that which we don’t like.

Clinging can be an inward clinging, such as to identity, concepts, and beliefs, or it can be an outward clinging such as to people, sex, things, and so on. Whether one clings to a person out there or to a noble-sounding idea like equality or “being a good person,” it’s still clinging.

My favorite synonym for clinging is expectations.

So, when we’re laden with expectations, what we’re doing is we’re clinging. It can even be to a belief like “People should be decent.”

But what happens when we meet someone who’s not a decent person? If we’re getting upset over it, it’s likely that we're clinging to the belief that they *should* be decent. If we didn’t cling to such a belief, we’d likely see the person as they are without getting emotional about their behavior.

So the fault of our emotional imbalance isn’t the other, but our own clinging, or expectations about others' behaviors.

When I meet an asshole, I like to run a particular thought through my mind, “This person *should* be an asshole (just not me).” Sometimes, I might need to run it a few times. But within a few seconds, I’ve got a smile on my face, and I’m done resisting reality. That is, I’m done clinging to beliefs that directly contradict reality.

So, if I make a request, and someone says, “No,” I try to remind myself, “This person *should* say no,” and I’m at peace with the denial. I might also kick that person out of my life, but that’s a different issue depending on what they’ve said no to. 🤣😝

An alternative, phenomenological, meditator's approach to getting 'underneath' an emotion

If you've ever been told that fear underlies all your other negative mental and emotional states, you may have been tempted to then look for fear when disturbed. You may even have asked yourself, "What is it that I'm fearing underneath this anger/discomfort/reactivity/irritability/jealousy/lust/depression/etc?"

While this may be helpful at times to some (although I'm not sure why), I want to suggest that this is mostly a form of psychological bypassing, or a way of going into one's head. Or we could even call it, mental masturbation.

Allow me to elaborate: Suppose you're angry and feeling reactive toward another.

Instead of attempting to analyze and deduce (i.e., guess at) the fear that might be the supposed cause of this anger, one can instead deal with the anger as is. A good start to that would be *to be with* the anger, and from there, explore the contours, texture, and overall experience of anger is it's presented itself.

There's no need to engage in psychological speculation that fear must underlie all anger, and in turn, go on a fishing expedition for the unnamed fear when anger already presents itself as is.

If upon careful examination and abiding close to one's anger, one touches into fear, then great. One can then do the same with fear--come close it and get to know it as well. And if fear isn't close by, then that's great also.

This approach of reducing everything "negative" down to fear is exactly that--a reductionist approach. It misses the substance, richness, and liveliness inherent in any mental or emotional disturbance. There's a "fix it" mentality inherent in such reductionist attitudes that misses the meaning. And by missing the meaning, one *misses the mark*... of living. 😉🤨😜

Letting go

If I’ve released one of my fingers (the pinkie in the original photo) from the pen, do we say that I’ve let go, or that I’m still holding on?

**

If you’re the pinkie, then you say that you’ve let go.

If you’re anything beyond the pinkie, then you say that you’re still holding on.

**

But to maintain the view of the pinkie is to retain a smaller view.

**

Likewise, if I let go of an attachment to say a person, have I let go or am I still holding on?

If I don’t want to remain entrenched in a constricted view, it’s better to say that I’m still holding on.

The only way to truly let go is to let the *entire* thing go—not just the one person but *all* others, including oneself (especially oneself), family, friends, enemies, God, life, love, hate, one’s beliefs, hopes, fears, and so on. All of it.

It's all concepts that one releases anyhow.

And perhaps, most of us can allow for that for only the briefest of moments? I personally don’t know anyone who can do better than that. (It’s the best I can do also.)

What I do know is that everything— from the very bottomless bottom up, and from the utter coreless core out—begins shifting and transforming from that sliver of a moment. And not any time before.

**

(This is a preview of my next book although that wasn’t the original intent. Instead, it was to distract myself from writing that book! And my dog appears curious about what’s happening. Just as I am.)

On why I write...

There's no gentler happiness I know of than showing up to write regularly, if not daily. It doesn't matter whether one or a million people read the words. As long as there's just one other on the receiving end of things, it feels worthwhile... because it's about experiencing the wonder of creation. With another.

It used to take me five to twenty hours till I had a page of writing. That shortened to a few hours when I changed audiences from academia to general humans. I then kept lowering my standards to the point where now, it might take just 10 - 20 minutes for a sloppy page of writing to appear... that I can work with at a later point. Which I do. Mostly.

When I regularly show up to this act of co-creating, i learn something deep in my being. This same capacity to shape and influence things begins to show up in my life. That's the real point of an artistic discipline, I believe. It's not for fame or fortune, nor for praise or recognition. Not even for livelihood. It's to learn to harness this innate capacity to co-create one's reality.

Otherwise, this whole living thing can get drab. Fast.

And yet, when things are moving, shifting, appearing (seemingly out of nowhere), shaping and reshaping themselves, there's nothing then that feels missing. 😉