Month 7, Day 24: My Dog’s a Better Buddhist Than I Am

I know I haven’t posted in a long time. Long story short, I’ve been crazy busy. And maybe just crazy. But I’m back now and I'm going to try to pick up the slack and at least give you a taste of the Buddhism I’ve been practicing before the entire month is over.

One thing I've noticed in some of my research is that most Buddhists believe that all living creatures reincarnate. We humans are supposedly at the best level you can reach, at least if you have to have a living, breathing body. (It’s also possible to reincarnate into various ghost or spirit states.) But animals are part of the whole life/death/rebirth cycle.

Apparently, some Buddhists, in an effort to get their pets closer to reincarnating at the human level next time around, will bring their dogs to temples or chant in front of their pets, hoping the animals will pick up enough spiritual knowledge to speed up their journey toward nirvana.

Although I haven’t yet stooped to chanting with my dogs, I did get to thinking. If Buddhism is all about letting go of attachments and living only in the present moment, aren’t dogs actually kind of better at it than most of us?

I mean, my dogs don’t cling to material things. If you throw them a toy, they’ll play with it, but they don’t notice if you take it away. They love everybody. And they live every moment to the fullest, never worrying about achieving something “better”—to them, each moment is perfect in and of itself, just like the Buddha says it should be.

If you ask me, my dogs are better Buddhists than any human being I’ve ever met.

They even LOOK Buddhist, don't they?

So maybe those temple dog-walkers have it reversed. They ought to be trying to imitate their dogs, instead of trying to get their dogs to be more like them.

Month 7, Day 13: The Eightfold Path

Last time, I talked about the Four Noble Truths: 1) Life involves suffering; 2) Suffering is caused by craving and attachment; 3) Craving and attachment can be overcome; 4) The way to overcome craving and attachment is the Eightfold Path. So today, it’s time to tackle the Eightfold Path. Ugh.

Because I have now read at least 6 books on Buddhism and have yet to find two that agree on the exact wording of the steps in the Eightfold Path, I’m going to use the terms outlined in Gary Gach’s The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Buddhism, if only to avoid going back and forth with terms that all seem to mean the same thing, at least to me.

According to Gach, the eight steps are:

1. Right view

2. Right thought

3. Right speech

4. Right action

5. Right livelihood

6. Right effort

7. Right mindfulness

8. Right concentration

The eight steps on the path are illustrated as the spokes of a wheel.

Okay, so there they are. But what the hell do they mean?

Well, I’ve got to tell you, nobody does a very good job explaining them, so I doubt my attempt will be much better. But I'll give it a try.

1. Right View

Buddhism says that our ability to see reality is clouded by our attachments to the physical world and our own assumptions and prejudices. In order to break the cycle of suffering and reincarnation, we need to remove the things that block our view of what is real and keep our vision clear. Apparently, if we manage to do this, we see things the way they really are and we understand that every moment is perfect and complete, just as it is.

All I can say is, the Buddha never had to live a single moment in my crappy life, or he’d REALLY be rethinking the whole “every moment is perfect” concept. But let’s move on.

2. Right Thought

Right thought is closely related to right view. The way we think about things affects the way we view the world.

As the Buddha said, “Mind is forerunner of action, foremost of deeds. Everything’s made up of mind. If your mind is polluted, sorrow will follow. . . . If your mind is pure, happiness will ensue, the way your shadow trails along wherever you go.”

That's just a little too “Power of Positive Thinking”/The Secret for my taste. Maybe my mind is just too “polluted,” but I have never found that thinking positively has helped attract even an iota of happiness to my life. Yeah, I know. I’m bitter. And polluted.

3. Right Speech

I’m in trouble on this one. Gary Gach explains right speech by saying, “Watch what you say: it colors our thoughts, which shape our deeds, which in turn influence our predispositions. . . . whatever we say about others, applies to us as well.”

So “right speech” means the same old stuff your grandmother probably told you: If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all. It also means we shouldn’t gossip about other people or make fun of people—either behind their backs or to their faces. And that means I can no longer engage in my favorite form of recreation—mockery.

4. Right Action

This one is pretty simple. To achieve “right action,” you’re supposed to act out of love and avoid causing anyone to suffer as a result of your actions. With the exception of my tendency toward mockery, which I assure you is almost always good-natured, I’m generally a pretty nice person. Really. So I might be okay on right action.

5. Right Livelihood

That’s right, folks—Buddhism tells you what kind of occupation you can and cannot practice. The list of “unwholesome” professions isn’t too big, but I imagine quite a lot of people around the world actually do make their living working in some aspect of them.

The list includes: dealing in arms/weapons (I guess the military isn’t up on Buddhism); dealing in intoxicants (uh-oh—does the fact that I spent six months as a bartender mean I’ll never achieve enlightenment?); dealing in slavery (phew! I’m good on that one—never had a slave, never sold a slave); prostitution (oh no! Even the oldest profession is banned!); and slaughtering animals (and I was so looking forward to getting a job at the local slaughterhouse—damn!).

Essentially, right livelihood means picking a job that doesn’t harm others—including animals.

6. Right Effort

This one involves the way you put the other steps into practice. Revered Wisdom: Buddhism explains it this way: “Right effort . . . is when a monk [or any practitioner of Buddhism] makes an effort, and strives to prevent evil states of mind from arising; to suppress them if they have arisen; to produce good states of mind, and develop and perfect them.”

Right effort lays the groundwork for developing a solid practice of meditation, which is where the next steps on the Eightfold Path come into play. And that is where I get into trouble every time.

7. Right Mindfulness

Mindfulness, or energetic awareness, is a key component of effective meditation. And I don’t have it—not even a little bit.

Mindfulness means being fully aware of where we are in the here and now, taking the time to pay attention to the present moment and stop everything else. Gary Gach describes it, saying, “Mindfulness is being fully attentive to things as they are, in and of themselves, moment to moment. And if this awareness feels splendid, even miraculous, remember it’s your birthright.”

I don’t know. All I ever feel when I focus on the present moment is anxiety and usually a little bit of boredom. It certainly doesn't feel "miraculous." I guess I’m not doing it right.

8. Right Concentration

Concentration refers to undivided attentiveness. Now, I’m fabulous at devoting my undivided attention to a few things—my work (well, most of the time), food, and, of course, television. But when it comes to meditation, my concentration sucks.

Revered Wisdom: Buddhism says that when someone practices right concentration, it “purifies his mind from all lust, ill temper, sloth, fretfulness, and perplexity. When these are gone, he is like a man freed from jail or debt, gladness rises in his heart. . . .  Then his whole mind and even his body is permeated with a feeling of purity and peace.”

Funny. My experience of meditation is almost exactly the opposite. Instead of feeling free of “lust, ill temper, sloth, fretfulness, and perplexity,” I always get pissed off, sleepy, anxious, and confused. I guess I should be happy I don’t also get horny.

Clearly, I have a lot of work to do when it comes to the Eightfold Path. 

Month 7, Day 10: The Four Noble Truths

Although I’m still deep in the bowels (emphasis on bowels) of my Buddhism research, I’ve managed to glean one thing: Buddhist thought can be boiled down to four ideas, known as the Four Noble Truths. So, here they are.

1. Life is suffering.

Because we are trapped in a cycle of life and death and reincarnation, life is inherently painful. We live, we learn, we die, and we start all over again. And it sucks.

2. The cause of suffering is craving and attachment.

We become attached and cling to the physical world—we crave food, money, power, love, sex. But we can never get enough of any of these things to ever feel satisfied, so the craving never ends unless we can somehow find a way to let it go.

3. We can overcome craving and attachment.

We have a choice about whether to suffer. As Gary Gach writes, “Pain is inevitable, but suffering is optional. It’s your call. You can drop it. Give it up. Let it go. Let it be. This state of liberation is nirvana. . . . The fires (of delusion—fear, anger, and greed) will burn out and die, if no longer fed.”

My initial reaction to that is “Bull! Bull! Bull!”, but I’ll take a cue from Buddhism and just let it go. For now.

4. The way to overcome suffering, craving, and attachment is the Eightfold Path:

            Right understanding/right view

            Right purpose/right thought

            Right speech

            Right conduct/right action

            Right livelihood

            Right effort

            Right alertness/right mindfulness

            Right concentration

We’ll have to get into these eight “rights” the next time, because the mere fact that I can’t even find two books that use the exact same eight terms to delineate the Eightfold Path has made me so angry, I can’t bear to write any more today.

I may not be so good at this “letting go” crap. My anger seems to be my best friend.

Month 7, Day 5: The Buddha

Let me preface today’s post by saying that I will try my best to be fair and generous as I explore the life of the Buddha. If I piss you off, though, please bear in mind that it’s nothing personal. I wasn’t all that nice when I talked about Jesus, either. I’m an equal opportunity scoffer.

So, let’s get on with it. Who was the Buddha? (And please, I beg you—always say “the Buddha” when you’re talking about the specific guy who founded Buddhism. “Buddha” alone is just a word, a title that can theoretically apply to anyone who achieves enlightenment. Got that?)

The Buddha was born in the month of May around 560 bce in what is now Nepal but was then part of India. He was the son of a king (well, technically a king, but given the size and organization of India at the time, his dad was really more like a feudal lord). The little prince’s name was Siddhartha Gautama.

A local fortune-teller assured the king that his new son would one day become either the ruler of the world or the Supremely Enlightened One. Tall order, huh? And I thought my parents expected too much of me . . .

As you might assume, the king preferred option number one—ruler of the world—a lot better, so he did everything he could to keep his son safe within the walls of the palace. He gave the growing boy all the luxuries a spoiled prince could possibly ask for—fabulous food, beautiful dancing girls, a gorgeous and adoring young bride. It sounds like a pretty decent life, if you ask me.

But, like most men, Siddhartha wasn’t satisfied with all the good stuff he had at home. So he defied his father’s wishes and started going outside the palace to explore the world.

Although dear old dad did his best to keep Siddhartha from seeing anything that might upset him, I guess even a king can’t control everything. Eventually, Siddhartha stumbled upon a few bitter realities—an old man who needed a cane to walk, a sick person, and a corpse.

Supposedly, the “brilliant” young man, as all the books depict him, never realized that such horrible things existed, because he had been so sheltered all his life. I don’t buy it, but I’ll be nice and just let it slide.

After seeing all this terrible suffering, Siddhartha was traumatized and wanted to know why the world was so cruel. On another of his little trips outside the palace, he noticed a monk, radiant in spiritual tranquility, and learned that some people found inner peace by renouncing the world.

Apparently, that sounded pretty good to Siddhartha, because he decided to leave the palace and embark on his own spiritual quest.

As religious scholar Huston Smith puts it, “One night in his twenty-ninth year he made a break, his Great Going Forth. Making his way in the post-midnight hours to where his wife and son were locked in sleep, he bade them both a silent goodbye.”

Yup. You read it right. The Buddha, that great noble guy we’re all supposed to emulate, sneaked out of his house in the middle of the night and abandoned his wife and baby.

Now, I’ve read this story many times and the books never say what I’m always thinking as I read about how the Buddha began his spiritual journey: that he was a wife-leaving deadbeat dad. So, I was kind of surprised to see that one book—Gary Gach’s The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Buddhism—actually does address the issue.

Gach writes: “True, Siddhartha was . . . walking away from his responsibilities as a father as well as a prince. He was aware of the pain he’d cause others by leaving, but suffering seemed the ever-present essence of this ultimate enigma he intended to resolve, once and for all. Once he’d found the answer, Siddhartha would return, bringing it back to his people and all the land.”

Okay, maybe I’m just a Negative Nelly, but that paragraph really sets off my bullshit meter. Because life involves suffering, it’s all right to abandon your family—just make sure you teach the world how to meditate and all will be forgiven. Very noble.

But let’s move on. After leaving the palace, Siddhartha tried a few different paths, hoping to find enlightenment. He studied with spiritual teachers in the forest. He became an ascetic, eating only a grain of rice a day until he almost died of starvation (again, this part of the story leads me to question his supposed great intelligence).

Finally, he determined that the “Middle Way”—moderation in all things—was the only possible path to enlightenment. Or so he said.

While emphasizing the importance of moderation, he sat down and did nothing but meditate under a tree for 49 days. Nah. That’s not excessive, is it? I always did think that anything worth doing was worth doing for 49 days without stop.

But I guess all that meditation in moderation worked out, because Siddhartha Gautama found what he was looking for: nirvana.

Huston Smith explains: “. . . while the Bo Tree rained red blossoms that full-mooned May night, Gautama’s meditation deepened . . . until, as the morning star glittered in the transparent sky of the east, his mind pierced at last the bubble of the universe and shattered it to naught, only, wonder of wonders, to find it miraculously restored with the effulgence of true being. The Great Awakening had arrived. Gautama’s being was transformed, and he emerged the Buddha.”

But what had he learned that suddenly (after 49 days) clued him in to reality? Gary Gach sums it up:

“In the dark of night, gazing into his heart and the heart of creation, he saw into the mystery of life, that we are bound to die and thus bound to suffer. Mortality ensures cravings never to be fulfilled—and perpetuates with them the false mind-sets of self that only produce more suffering. . . . He saw, too, the happiness of being free.”

Sounds fabulous. And Buddhism tells us that, thanks to the efforts of the Buddha, we don’t have to spend 49 straight days meditating to reach enlightenment. We can glean some insights from his arduous struggle and get to nirvana in our own time.

The Buddha spent around 45 years after he reached enlightenment teaching others what he had learned. He died of dysentery after eating some bad food he received as alms around 483 bce—supposedly on the anniversary of the same May evening on which he had discovered nirvana.

I’m going to leave it at that for today and try to move on, ignoring all the snarky comments that keep racing through my mind. And believe me—it’s not easy.

Month 7, Day 2: And Now . . . Buddhism. Ugh.

I know, I know. I’ve been slacking the last two days—at least from an outside perspective. I look at it as self-preservation because I’m afraid I’ll have to kill myself if I keep up with this Buddhism research.

Here’s the thing: Each month, I start preparing a few weeks in advance for my new religion, reading everything I can find about the upcoming faith, even when it’s hard to find any high-quality information.

Last month, I knew Buddhism was coming, and I already have easily a dozen books to read, but I haven’t been able to push past a few chapters in any one of them. I keep getting pissed off—no, make that infuriated—right around Chapter 2.

One book “guarantees” that I’ll have clairvoyant powers if I’ll simply follow Buddhist practices. Another book says world peace is a sure thing if I just suspend my disbelief and start meditating. And they all seem to want me to follow the teachings of a guy who strikes me as nothing other than a deadbeat dad (more on that another day).

But hey, I’m in this thing for the long haul, so I’ll keep reading and I’ll get on with the meditating. Buddhism may not require prayers or even a belief in God, but I beg you—pray for me.