One of the most fascinating parts of being on a spiritual path is the sudden realization that there are aspects of my personality I was totally unaware of, that are quite suddenly revealed to me in stark relief. After I become aware of these characteristics, it's as if they were there all along and I was simply blind to their presence; I have the urge to smack myself on the forehead and say, "What a dunce!" I have come to believe, though, that this is simply the universe's way of giving me what I can handle at any particular time. As long as I keep my mind and heart open to new realizations about myself, I will continue to discover new and interesting things my entire life (and perhaps beyond, who knows?).
My most recent discovery is my propensity for envy. I knew that I sometimes coveted what others had (usually not material so much as spiritual or personal). But until a few short weeks ago, I had not realized how thoroughly envy permeated my life. Now that I am aware of it, I can see that in nearly every circumstance I tend to compare myself to others, and subtly weigh whether what they have or do is better, worse, or about the same as what I have or do. I then pass judgment on them and myself based on this evaluation.
Of course, this has not been a conscious choice; I am not this self-centered by intention. But it is now clear that this kind of thinking has to some degree or another run my life. Whenever a person is chosen for an AA position, for instance, I wonder if I could do that job, if there is a reason I would never be chosen for it, if they are up to the job...and on and on. At work, I have the tendency to compare the amount of work I am doing with how much it seems like others are doing, and evaluate all of us accordingly. When I hear of people talking about going to a party or out to dinner, I wonder why I wasn't invited, or why I can't have the kind of relationships these people seem to have. In the rooms of AA, I have heard this called, "comparing my insides with other people's outsides". It also gives my power away; if I am relying on your reinforcement to feel OK about myself, I will always come up wanting. To the degree that I do this, I am also removing God's influence from my life, because I am making your judgment and my comparison of myself to others my Higher Power.
What this is, though, is a form of bondage, and now that I can see the chains, I don't want them any more; they are too heavy, and hurt both me and others. What the Buddha taught is that the antidote to envy is mudita, or sympathetic joy. The basic premise in all of Buddhism is that we are intertwined and the idea of separation between us is illusory. Therefore, when any one of us is harmed, we are all harmed, and when any one of us is given gifts (safety, happiness, wholeness, happy events), then all of us benefit. On a more individual basis, what I have begun to discover is that the simple act of refusing to give in to that initial impulse to envy is enormously freeing, that I can merely make the choice not to compare, but to listen with a full and open heart to whatever is being said, or see whatever is being done without judgment. I compare it to popping soap bubbles—the envy arises, I poke it with awareness, and it dissipates.
This is the road to joy, which I believe to be the root aspiration of both the Buddhist and the recovery spiritual paths. When I drop the story line of envy, when I can simply be in the moment without judgment or comparison, I feel a spark of freedom. Ultimately, this freedom, this joy, is what I want more of, and is why I am willing to continue to strive, to "trudge this road of happy destiny".
Saturday, October 28, 2006
Friday, October 20, 2006
Community
What is this yearning I feel, for a deeper connection to something larger than me? It makes me wonder if the deep-seated need for community is not rooted in our natures, an innate desire. Perhaps it derives from the prehistoric need for protection from predators and other dangers; to me, it feels that primal.
I just finished the book The Secret Life of Bees, and the sadness I felt was profound. The women (and some men) in this book have such a sense of community, of safety in their numbers. Frankly, I was (and am) envious. (Fiction has often done this to me: The Color Purple comes to mind, as does Jayber Crow, or nearly any other work by Wendell Berry; there are many others I have forgotten). Why should this warm envelopment in love be available to some and not to others? What is amiss in my life that such a community has never embraced me? Is this, perhaps, something which only happens in books?
Oh, I know, this sounds like self-pity (and there's a component of that, I confess), but I am more curious than irritated‚ why should this be so? Is community something to be expected, or merely an outgrowth of exceptional circumstances?
In Buddhism, the community is the sangha, a group of like-minded persons following the path of the dharma. It is one of the three jewels of Buddhist practice (the others being the Buddha and the dharma). Yet, my observation is that in Western society it is very difficult to bring together such a group with any consistency or true community to it. Our lives are too disparate, too far-flung, just flat-out too busy. In AA, the community is the home group, but this seems to face the same challenges as the sangha. We come together briefly for our mutual benefit, then flee back to our homes, our televisions, our I-Pods, and our computers.
I know what my sponsor would say: "If you want a community around you, build one. Be available and loving to those who make up your world and share your life." Or something like that. Easier said than done. It seems to me that our society is made up primarily of pseudo-communities; things like MySapce, blogs, chat rooms, church groups, even AA meetings. Though they certainly have value of themselves, they are no substitute for true community.
Of course, as I admitted above, this desire for community is (at least in part) envy, but there are many things I envy (youth, beauty, musical skills, intelligence, math aptitude, facility for languages among them). But I recognize that these are either entirely out of reach or merely choices I can make, to devote my time and energy to their acquisition. But this thing with community is a craving in me, and one I feel I have no tools to bring about.
But when I remember to truly seek God's will for me, I recall the words on acceptance in the stories in the back of the Big Book, "My serenity is inversely proportional to my expectations." I must "do whatever is in front of me to be done, and...leave the results up to Him; however it turns out, that's God's will for me." And the Buddha taught that the very source of suffering is craving; it is not circumstances which cause me to suffer, but my desire to have them be other than as they are, what Sylvia Boorstein calls "an unappeasable need." So, my sponsor, as usual, is right. I don't need to know how to build this thing I want—this intimacy, the camaraderie, this love—I merely need to love others and give of myself. The result will be God's will and will speak for itself.
I just finished the book The Secret Life of Bees, and the sadness I felt was profound. The women (and some men) in this book have such a sense of community, of safety in their numbers. Frankly, I was (and am) envious. (Fiction has often done this to me: The Color Purple comes to mind, as does Jayber Crow, or nearly any other work by Wendell Berry; there are many others I have forgotten). Why should this warm envelopment in love be available to some and not to others? What is amiss in my life that such a community has never embraced me? Is this, perhaps, something which only happens in books?
Oh, I know, this sounds like self-pity (and there's a component of that, I confess), but I am more curious than irritated‚ why should this be so? Is community something to be expected, or merely an outgrowth of exceptional circumstances?
In Buddhism, the community is the sangha, a group of like-minded persons following the path of the dharma. It is one of the three jewels of Buddhist practice (the others being the Buddha and the dharma). Yet, my observation is that in Western society it is very difficult to bring together such a group with any consistency or true community to it. Our lives are too disparate, too far-flung, just flat-out too busy. In AA, the community is the home group, but this seems to face the same challenges as the sangha. We come together briefly for our mutual benefit, then flee back to our homes, our televisions, our I-Pods, and our computers.
I know what my sponsor would say: "If you want a community around you, build one. Be available and loving to those who make up your world and share your life." Or something like that. Easier said than done. It seems to me that our society is made up primarily of pseudo-communities; things like MySapce, blogs, chat rooms, church groups, even AA meetings. Though they certainly have value of themselves, they are no substitute for true community.
Of course, as I admitted above, this desire for community is (at least in part) envy, but there are many things I envy (youth, beauty, musical skills, intelligence, math aptitude, facility for languages among them). But I recognize that these are either entirely out of reach or merely choices I can make, to devote my time and energy to their acquisition. But this thing with community is a craving in me, and one I feel I have no tools to bring about.
But when I remember to truly seek God's will for me, I recall the words on acceptance in the stories in the back of the Big Book, "My serenity is inversely proportional to my expectations." I must "do whatever is in front of me to be done, and...leave the results up to Him; however it turns out, that's God's will for me." And the Buddha taught that the very source of suffering is craving; it is not circumstances which cause me to suffer, but my desire to have them be other than as they are, what Sylvia Boorstein calls "an unappeasable need." So, my sponsor, as usual, is right. I don't need to know how to build this thing I want—this intimacy, the camaraderie, this love—I merely need to love others and give of myself. The result will be God's will and will speak for itself.
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