when the Dalai Lama suffers

While traveling the last few months, I've been listening to Pema Chödrön's audiobook Getting Unstuck: Breaking Your Habitual Patterns and Encountering Naked Reality. In it, she tells a story of the Dalai Lama that I found so profound. An older monk came to the Dalai Lama for advice on whether or not to take up a new yoga practice that was physically very strenuous. The Dalai Lama advised him not to, because of his age and the physical exertion required. The next day, the man committed suicide, because he believed that if he died he would be reborn into a younger body and could then complete the yoga practice that was so important to his religious beliefs.

The Dalai Lama was left with grief and regret about his responsibility for the man's death. But when a journalist so taken aback by this story asked him, "How did you ever get rid of that feeling?" the Dalai Lama paused and then responded: "I didn't. It's still there. I just don't allow it to drag me down and pull me back."

Pema Chödrön uses this story to illustrate the concept of "shenpa" - which she describes is the emotion, or quality, of "getting hooked" and our habitual reactions to it. She explains that the key is to learn to see clearly when we get hooked (the "itch" as she calls it) so that we can refrain from our reactive behaviors (the "scratching") that only prolong suffering.

The story caught me on so many levels. First-- the Dalai Lama still suffers? Though there's a part of me that intellectually knows this must be true, part of me is a little shocked. I wonder what the point of the spiritual path is, if someone as enlightened Dalai Lama still knows suffering. Chödrön explains that the strict dichotomy we desire, of here or gone, is misleading, that we can in a sense hold our pain and that of others without suffering from it, while still maintaining a broader vision.  

So its not about getting rid of what's painful? Again, intellectually I understand this but on another level, it seems so radical- not to mention impossible. It makes me think of a contradiction I often see in my own experience. Buddhism teaches that the way to be free of suffering is to leave the endless cycle of seeking pleasure and avoiding pain; it cautions against using the dharma itself as a means to this end.  I can't help but think- really? How is this possible? Of course this is what led me down this path. I can see clearly my own efforts to gather some ground under my feet, to find answers, stability, comfort, and pleasure. Meanwhile Chödrön teaches that groundlessness is our true state, and efforts to gain ground and uphold our ego- even with the teachings- only prolongs suffering.

I'm not sure where the answer to this question lies. Maybe in more time, greater experience. Maybe in fewer expectations and greater faith in the path itself.

on Thanksgiving, alone

I ran across this NPR article Table For One, Please. A Solo Thanksgiving last week. I found the topic and the 95 comments on it so interesting-- the mix of reactions from NPR readers to the idea of spending Thanksgiving alone.  In America, we've idealized Thanksgiving to be the epitome of family, friends, togetherness. The expectation of what it should look and feel and be like is very clear (as one reader points out- even the menu is pre-decided!) What happens when one chooses to reject these expectations and spend the holiday alone - either by choice or not?

I find it hard to take Thanksgiving seriously in the first place. Its origins seem so false and ironic. Are we really celebrating a supposed friendship between the pilgrims and the Native Americans they truthfully exterminated? It feels like a piece of distorted history that's been co-opted by the food and shopping industry.  Perhaps this is too cynical, especially when the holidays may lead people to be thankful and generous. Maybe because I've never celebrated Thanksgiving, its hard for me to understand.

But I think this gets to the heart of a real difficulty in our human experience. We have expectations and ideals for holidays, careers, marriages, friends, children-- all sorts of aspects of our lives. When the real, true experience doesn't match the expectation, it can be very painful. Some readers tried to escape this by going to the beach or to Canada on Thanksgiving. Others stayed put but embraced the solitude and freedom. Others acknowledged their loneliness and unhappiness.

We're social animals; our ability to feel connected to others is an important determinant of our happiness.  But at some point or another most people find themselves alone, either physically or emotionally. Or we may desire time alone, and certainly solitude can be healing or rejuvenating in its own way. I wonder if others feel this tension as much as I do. How can we each find this balance, especially when holidays like Thanksgiving seem to tell us there's only one right, happy, or normal way to be?

Lincoln

Last night, we went to see the movie Lincoln, starring Daniel Day Lewis who looked remarkably the part. It focused on Lincoln's efforts to get the 13th amendment that would free slaves passed in the last few months of the Civil War.  Many things about the movie struck me. I was quickly reminded of our school history classes in Richmond where we were emphatically taught that the Civil War was not about slavery! (it was about state's rights). There are always controversies in Virginia and other parts of the South about Confederate heritage and culture. Those who feel themselves a part of Confederate history want to preserve it but always seem to be quick to defend that its "not about slavery."

I'll admit I've forgotten most of my US history. But as the film depicts at least, state's rights and slavery are intimately intertwined (or at least, the war becomes about slavery even if it didn't begin that way). Lincoln tries to convince his party that if the slaves are freed, the Confederate states will have no more reason to continue fighting, since (among other reasons) slavery is the basis of their economy. On the other hand, any hint of a peace agreement in the war threatens the amendment passing because it no longer seems necessary to end the war.

It was shocking to see how few people at that time believe in the equality of all people, black or white, and how radical the idea seems. The only two (white) characters who seem to truly believe this are Lincoln and Stevens, who both are forced to go against what they believe to get the amendment passed. Lincoln, for example, passes the Emancipation Proclamation as a war measure based on the idea that slaves were the "property" of the Confederate rebels that he could confiscate. Stevens ultimately testifies that he does not believe in true racial equality, but only equality "under the law."

For most at the time, the idea that blacks and whites were equal, or deserve equal rights, was unimaginable. What gets many of the congressmen riled up is the thought that this could one day lead to blacks or even women voting. Though the amendment was passed in 1865, it wasn't until 100 years later with the 1965 Voting Rights Act that most blacks in the South were really able to exercise their right to vote. Desegregation and women's voting came a century later.

If the idea that blacks were inferior to whites was so widespread, I wonder about people like Lincoln and Stevens.  To go against the ideology of almost their entire race and country to truly understand equality seems incredible. Were they visionaries? People who could see beyond their time and circumstances and imagine a different reality? Lincoln did not pass the 13th amendment as a political necessity, or to appease his constituents for reelection. He did it because he believed it was right and true. When can we say that about politics today?