June 22, 2011

The Future of Quakerism

“Things don’t happen overnight. You achieve by struggling, not by lying down. There is a voice inside that talks to you when you are alone and silent. That voice I have come to call ‘the God in me’, and it tells me when I’m right, when I’m pretending, when I’m dishonest, when I’m fair. If you follow it and are committed to it, you will get somewhere.”
Wangari Muta Maathai, 2004 Nobel Peace Prize winner, as quoted in Amnesty International Magazine, Fall 2007


“As death draws near, a dying person may hear a still small voice inviting her to freedom. Sitting with the dying, sitting still in meditation, and sitting at the edge of cultures different from my own, I have also encountered that still small voice. It is there to speak to us all, if we can give it enough silence to be heard.“
“Being with Dying: Cultivating Compassion and Fearlessness in the Presence of Death” by Joan Halifax

 

As a Quaker, a member of a relatively small religion, I’m positively tickled when I come across quotes like those above, written by non-Quakers. While the idea of that “still small voice” originated in the Bible, I don’t think it would be an overstatement to say that Quakerism, more than most religions, actively promotes the belief that if one is silent, one can commune with that inner voice. And even more so, that all of us have access to that “God in me”.

I often think that we Quakers don’t give ourselves enough credit. We liberal Quakers look at our diminishing numbers and fret about whether our religion is going to be in existence in 100 years or whether our Meetings will just die out. What I think doesn’t get talked about enough is how Quaker ideas have spread into general society.

Haven’t you ever seen a non-Friend use the term “speaking truth to power”? I’ve seen it more than once, often in publications released by human rights organizations. The two quotes above from vastly different sources are just examples of how Quakers ideals have taken root in people who wouldn’t normally consider themselves Quakers.

I don’t think what matters most is whether Quakerism as a religion will still be around 100 years from now. I think what matters most is that Quaker values and some of our foundational beliefs are gaining mainstream acceptance.

Isn’t that more important than whether, say, Philadelphia Yearly Meeting will still exist as an organization in 2111?

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June 16, 2011

Suffering… End of Suffering

I’ve read a lot of Dharma books and have felt time and time again that I Get It, I know what to say and what to think, I Am A Good Buddhist ™.

But I haven’t been “getting it”. When JB was dying and I was angry and sad, I felt like a bad Buddhist. “The Buddha wouldn’t have gotten so attached,” I thought. “The Buddha would have realized that JB is impermanent and wouldn’t be so upset at the news of JB’s impending death.” “The Buddha wouldn’t be sad like this.” “I’m not a good Buddhist because I’m sad, angry, irritable.”

And then a couple of weeks later, I accepted that my emotions were what they were and let go of the idea that they should be something else. Yet still, deep inside, I felt disappointed that I “wasn’t as far along the path to enlightenment as I thought I was”. Yet this disappointment was easily overshadowed by the grief that followed, especially the day of JB’s death.

Tonight I attended a dharma talk at my local sangha, which was given by a lay teacher in the Insight Meditation tradition who leads the local sangha. (The sangha itself is unaffiliated with any particular tradition, but the leader happens to be trained in Insight Meditation.) Tonight’s dharma talk was about the Noble Eightfold Path. During the talk, the teacher spoke about the benefit of having an intention, such as the intention to end suffering.

I made the intention to end suffering in myself and all others when I took my Refuge and Bodhisattva vows almost a year ago. But it suddenly struck me tonight that ending suffering doesn’t mean what I’ve always thought it meant.

I’ve always thought that ending suffering meant ending those emotional states that we find unpleasant and painful: anger, agitation, irritability, jealousy, rage, sorrow, despair, sadness, boredom, loneliness, etc. That when I feel any of those unpleasant emotions, it’s because I’m not enlightened yet.

But what is suffering, really? The day that JB died and I cried for almost an hour, was I suffering? No. I was full of sorrow, but I was not suffering.

Why not? Because I had given up the judgment. I wasn’t adding something to my emotion that wasn’t there. I was just experiencing that emotion–grief–completely.

I read a book a few months ago titled “How to Be Sick”, written by a Buddhist who is disabled. In this book, she makes a powerful argument that physical pain doesn’t always lead to suffering, that the suffering comes in when we judge our pain as good or bad, i.e., when we add something extra to the pain. This made a lot of sense to me at the time, since I’ve certainly experienced being in pain and being happy at the same time.

Tonight I realized that emotions are like physical pain and discomfort. They come and go. They’re not good or bad. Suffering doesn’t come from having emotions; it comes from feeling that the emotion you’re having isn’t right, from judging that emotion and labeling it. Just as one can be in physical pain and not be suffering, so one can be in the throng of despair and also not be suffering.

As Pema Chodron wrote, “Nothing is what we thought.”

And that is perfect.

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May 21, 2011

Death… and Life

JB—the being that I mentioned in an earlier post who’s dying—is wonderfully still alive and not suffering.

I am so grateful for this extra time.

Some days after I wrote that post, I realized something important that sounds simple but isn’t always. I’d noticed that I’d been irritable for a while, snapping at people I normally wouldn’t snap at, feeling like I just couldn’t settle in my own skin. Meditating during this period was incredibly challenging. I often would give up before my cell phone alarm would go off, often just minutes before, convinced that I hadn’t really set the alarm. I got angry at one of my cats and while I didn’t harm her in any way, she was nervous around me. I made snide comments to my undeserving husband and snapped at my sister who was only calling me to chat.

I wasn’t okay with being this way. I felt it was wrong: I’ve experienced losing those I love before; that means I should be over it; It shouldn’t bother me, I should just accept it as part of life.

But that day, as I was thinking about the impending death of this being I love and the anxiety I was having surrounding that, I suddenly realized that it was okay to be upset. No, I shouldn’t take that anxiety out on others: but once I accepted that how I was feeling wasn’t wrong or bad or somehow a failing, I felt enormous relief. What I was feeling wasn’t right or wrong, bad or good. It just was.

And, unexpectedly, the anxiety got better after that realization.

Today, I am grateful for all this extra time I’ve had with JB. It’s so much more than I hoped for. It’s so much more than anyone expected.

I know JB will die, likely sooner rather than later. But the true miracle is that JB has lived at all. Life is itself a miracle, one which I’ve taken for granted in the past. Death reminds me to stop, pay attention, and wonder at the uniqueness of each life.

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May 6, 2011

Politician Morality Logic Challenge

I just sent the following email to my Congressman. Somehow I doubt he’ll actually reply, but this needed to be said.

Dear Mr. Harris,

In response to my email stating that I do not support HR 3, you stated:

“I feel that taxpayers who believe abortion is wrong should not have their federal tax dollars used to pay for abortions.”

As a Quaker and a Buddhist, I believe that war and military actions are wrong. By your logic, I should not have my federal tax dollars used to fund wars or military actions. Would you support the actions of Quakers and others whose faiths prompt them to find war unjust and immoral to not pay the portion of their income taxes that’s used to fund war? If not, how can you claim that one group of people—those who find abortion immoral—should be allowed special treatment by the government to prevent their tax dollars from being used in a way they’d find morally abhorrent while another—those who find war immoral—are denied this?

Please don’t reply with a form email.

Sincerely,
[me]

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April 28, 2011

Death: A Slogan Post

Today’s slogan is:

For one moment,
quit being sad. Hear blessings
dropping their blossoms
around you. God.

(Rumi)

I’m having trouble with this one today. It’s funny… a few months ago, I read a Buddhist book called “No Death, No Fear” by Thich Nhat Hanh. While reading the book, I was feeling kind of smug, the way I sometimes do when I’m reading spiritual books and think “I got this. I’ve accomplished this; I understand it; let’s move on.” (Yeah, I may appear modest, but in my mind? No, I am IT. I am AWESOME. I GOT THIS.) I felt that I really understood already how I view death and that I’d become comfortable with it and accepted it as just a necessary part of life.

Of course, at the time, it had been a while since I’d been faced with death and lost a loved one. (I think you can see where this post is heading…)

Earlier this week, I found out some bad news about a being I care very deeply for, a young being, too young. She’s possibly dying, but no one really knows for sure because there’s no definitive test for the thing she’s suspected of having.

That smugness is laughable now. I’ve been crying. I’ve been sad. I’ve been angry. I’ve felt this whole thing is completely unfair. I’ve felt powerless. I’ve felt despair.

I am trying to see the beauty: that I got the chance to know her, that she is still living.

But comfortable and accepting of her death (which, after all, would have been coming at some point…)? No, I wouldn’t say I’m comfortable at all with this.

I want to be able to end this post with some sort of meaning, but I think that’s at the heart of this discomfort and pain: that perhaps there is no meaning at all to be found in what’s happening. Perhaps it just IS.

All I can do is be there for her now, for as long as I can.

And I can try to remember this horrible feeling of despair, of powerlessness, when I start feeling smug the next time, especially when I start giving in to my ego and believing that I am somehow better than those OTHER people who get upset when someone they love is dying.

Because life, after all, is rooted in impermanence. And there are no guarantees, despite the term “life expectancy”.

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April 28, 2011

Discontent

I have not been attending Meeting for Worship regularly recently.

I have not been meditating regularly recently.

…And yet I gave up sweets for Lent, though I haven’t been Catholic for years and don’t really believe in the Resurrection of Jesus as Christ…

The truth is that I go through phases: phases where I’m meditating every day, where I’m attending Meeting for Worship twice a month or more, where I feel very grounded and connected to both the religions I’ve claimed as my own.

I haven’t been feeling that connected recently.

Still, I see their subtle effects in my life: my tendency towards always telling the truth as best as I know it; my constant attempts to do as little harm as possible, or at least cause as little suffering as possible (even to bugs!); the constant background to every action that nudges me towards living up to the Quaker Testimonies and the Buddhist vows I’ve taken.

The truth is, I suppose, that I’m not sure how much I miss the outward “actions” I’m “supposed” to be doing. Shouldn’t I be missing meditating and Meeting for Worship?

The two faith practices that have stuck with me are praying before sleeping and spiritual reading. Perhaps these are enough for now. Perhaps I should dispel the “should”s for a while and do what feels most meaningful to me.

Perhaps I should release the worry that maybe I’m not really a Quaker or a Buddhist because I’m not doing x, y, or z.

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February 19, 2011

“Only Breath” By Rumi (As Translated By Coleman Barks)

Not Christian or Jew or Muslim, not Hindu
Buddhist, sufi, or zen. Not any religion

or cultural system. I am not from the East
or the West, not out of the ocean or up

from the ground, not natural or ethereal, not
composed of elements at all. I do not exist,

am not an entity in this world or in the next,
did not descend from Adam and Eve or any

origin story. My place is placeless, a trace
of the traceless. Neither body or soul.

I belong to the beloved, have seen the two
worlds as one and that one call to and know,

first, last, outer, inner, only that
breath breathing human being.

*******

There is a way between voice and presence
where information flows.

In disciplined silence it opens.
With wandering talk it closes.

This pretty much sums up my faith.

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February 17, 2011

Parable (based on a dream)

Each spring, there would be war between the village shepherds and the wolf-men. Each spring, the village shepherds would watch in fury as the wolf-men would steal their sheep. Each spring, many would die: villagers and wolf-men alike.

One spring, the villagers decided they’d had enough. A village council was called where all in the village could speak.

“Those no-good rotten thieving wolf-men!”

“Who do they think they are, that they can walk into our pastures and steal our sheep?”

This continued for quite a while until a young woman found the courage to speak.

“But… what if they don’t know that what they’re doing is stealing?”

Silence rocked the village council until a belligerent voice called out, “But how could they not know? It’s obvious those sheep are ours!”

More angry voices rang out, but the young woman, now that she had found her courage, would not be silenced.

“But what if they don’t know? What if we’re killing each other over a misunderstanding?”

The village council decided this question was worth investigating and decided to send an ambassador to the wolf-men. The young woman was chosen as the ambassador, marked with a brown stripe down her chin, and given a bucket of mutton chunks to carry with her to attract the leader of the wolf-men.

She set out into the woods, fear leaping out at her from every movement. Yet she kept on walking, deeper and deeper into the forest, until she no longer knew her way back.

Lost, and tired of smelling the mutton chunks, she tossed the bucket away and sat down to rest.

As she sat leaning against a tree, she noticed slight movement in front of her. Scared but resolute, she didn’t run away when the leader of the wolf-men approached her.

“Why have you come out this deep into the forest? Are you lost?” He asked.

“Yes, I’m lost.”

“But why have you come?”

“To ask a question.”

“What question?”

“Why do you steal our sheep each spring?”

Taken by surprise at her question, the wolf-man paused a moment before answering.

“Steal? You think we are thieves?”

“Well, yes. Those sheep belong to us.”

“But they are outside. Does this not mean they are free for anyone?”

“No, we keep them outside because… well, because it’s easier than keeping them in our houses.”

Now it was her turn to pause as a new question came to her.

“Wait–if you didn’t know you were stealing, why did you think we were attacking you?”

The leader of the wolf-men shrugged. “We just thought it was something you humans did each spring, like some kind of weird ritual. Like, ‘Oh, now it’s March, time to kill the wolf-men!’”

After another moment, during which both collected their thoughts, the leader of the wolf-men dared to ask, “If we stop… stealing… the sheep, would you stop attacking us?”

“Yes!”

And they lived happily ever after.

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February 11, 2011

Egypt and Peace

We pacifists have been told we’re living in a dreamworld.
We’ve been told we’re idealistic, that nonviolence isn’t powerful enough to really exhibit change.
We’ve been told that violence and oppression are more powerful than peace.

To the doubters I say:
How many nonviolent revolutions have to occur until the world realizes that “There is no way to Peace, Peace is the way”?

The Egyptian people have done what the United States military has, in many cases, failed to do: they pulled down an oppressive government. And they did it without violence. They did it with dignity, with their hearts yearning for peace and freedom. They did it with integrity, and with equality: men, women, children, Muslims, Christians, all standing together.

As a Quaker, today I stand with Egyptians. I stand with Tunisians. I stand with everyone everywhere who is working for the true meaning of peace: not the cessation of conflict, but the sense that everyone everywhere has rights, that these rights must be respected…

That there is that of God in everyone, though those exact words may not be the ones used.

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November 20, 2010

Practice: A Slogan Post

I pulled this slogan a few days ago and am only now getting around to writing this post, which is appropriate given what I’m planning on writing:

“If you can practice even when distracted, you are well-trained.”

I could delve into the teacher/guru-student structure that’s so central to Tibetan Buddhism, which is the tradition from which I get these slogans, but I think that’s not the real message to be had here.

I’ve received this slogan many, many times over the past few years, and I’ve always discounted it as one of the “boring, inapplicable” ones, like the ones that seem to be pontificating on what I usually discount as Buddhist dogma and philosophy that really doesn’t matter.

(Okay, let me explain that last part a bit: I graduated from a college that spends an awful lot of time and energy on philosophizing everything. By the end of it, I started wondering what, exactly, the point was of being able to define everything. Just because maybe the exact definition of, say, a table can’t be known–what’s the eidos of a table, for those of you schooled in Greek-geek-speak–doesn’t mean that we don’t recognize a table when we see it. So, a lot of Buddhist philosophizing about perception or the 51 mental states, etc., I have difficulty finding ways to apply to my life, probably because I’m coming at it from this particular lens. … This may be something I need to work on.)

Back to the slogan at hand. I always thought this slogan was about the ability to meditate through distractions, that, say, if I can meditate even though two kitties are wrestling on the bed behind me, then I’m “well-trained”.

Right, because the whole purpose of Buddhism is to learn how to meditate well.

Let me say that more clearly: the purpose of Buddhism is not to teach people how to meditate well. While meditation can be both a means and an end, it is not THE end of Buddhism. It’s only a means.

What is the end?

I realize I’m still relatively new to Buddhism, but the purpose of Buddhism seems pretty clear to me: to alleviate suffering. The path that Buddhism recommends to do so is meditation, which allows one to develop right understanding so that one’s actions can truly alleviate suffering. (How many times have we tried to do the right thing and found out later that we had a critical flaw in our understanding of what the problem was?)

There is what I’ll call a Quaker fable that relates to this slogan:

A first-time attender is sitting in Meeting for Worship, waiting for the service to begin. As the silence stretches into many minutes, the attender whispers to his neighbor, “When does the service begin?” The Quaker replies, “When the worship ends.”

The point of this slogan is that it’s not easy to practice Buddhism, to be alert and aware enough all of the time to skillfully act in ways that alleviate suffering. I often find myself feeling very compassionate and loving during meditation sessions. I’ll resolve that the next time my sister calls, even if she calls for no reason and more than once a day, I’m going to be truly present for her and give her whatever it is she’s needing from me. But how long does that resolve last?

I think you all can relate to my answer. It lasts until I hear her ring-tone on my cellphone, when annoyance and irritation replaces my intention of love and compassion.

Or when I sit in Meeting for Worship, steeping in that Divine Love that centers us as Quakers and enlivens us, thinking about all the ways I’m going to be better at following Him. I’m going to be more alert to leadings and less fearful. I’m going to be more trusting. I’m going to be more loving and compassionate (that is the main common thread for me between Quakerism and Buddhism: the desire to be loving and compassionate).

So, this slogan is not about becoming an expert in meditation after all. It’s about, as Quakers would say, “letting my life speak”. It’s about maintaining that feeling of love, compassion, and mindfulness after the meditation session is over. It’s about maintaining that connection to God outside of Meeting for Worship.

It’s about practicing.

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