End of Year Review 2012 - "Shouldn't try harder...!"

Its important to be kind to yourself with regard to resolutions, New Years or otherwise.
And realistic...

So, it's New Year's Eve 2012. Wow. It's been a funny old year, what with the summer of both the London Olympics, the Diamond Jubilee and a host of other socio-political events of either a pivotal or utterly irrelevant nature, depending on your disposition. For me it's been a really, really interesting year. I say that, although the adjective that came first to my mind was 'tough'. Has it really been a 'tough year', or is it that a few subtle deviations have taken us collectively and individually that little bit further outside our comfort zone? Is that always a bad thing? Such thoughts come into my mind right now. Mainly because its New Years Eve, but also because its not even half seven in the morning, and I find myself heading to work. Really? Your kidding? Nope. Got myself a nice little 8-4 shift in the "contact centre" in Manchester that I work in. Pretty bleak picture huh? Finish the year having to be up at 6am... Shhhh... If you close your eyes, you can just about make out the sound in the distance, like a shard of last night's soon-forgotten and fragmented dreams... A violin, perhaps? Not a large one, judging from the timbre...

I jest, but this is something I've noticed I do a lot. Things seem to be either going well, which makes me proud and complacent, or they are going really badly, which makes me proud, complacent and self absorbed. I mean, REALLY badly. "The Hardest Year of My Life" is a title I bestow upon 2012 not without some degree of uncomfortable shoe-gazing, and frankly something I could have done without, but hey-ho, pip and dandy, "them's the breaks", as my Mancunian friend will say (and do, well, the last bit at least.) There doesn't seem to have been a lot of middle way this year. 12 months ago I was in a (semi) stable relationship, living in the quaint but remote picturesque beauty of Buxton, in the Peak District, and generally speaking i was pretty certain that I was a Buddhist and starting a period of intense study and meditation. Due to changes in the timetable made after we had decided to move to the area, I was left with a commute of nearly five hours a day, for the princely sum of £270 a month! Still, on the up side, it gave me all that time in the world to listen to talks from the freebuddhistaudio.com website. Lots and lots of them. I think at last check I had 29 hours of Bhante Sangharakshita on my laptop's hard drive, plus another three days of various others talks and narrated books, enough to keep me occupied for literally months. When others were merely endearing the skull-crushing tedious monotony of their commutes, I was rapture-bound, absorbed in suttas and doctrines radiant enough to inspire and illuminate even the most jaded of travellers, and in work I devoured Sangharakshita books in an all-consuming fashion. I created a bubble, and watched the world slip by, day by day, from my safe vantage point within. But bubbles pop. I know. Obvious point, but still it came as a shock.

Screenshot of the new FreeBuddhistAudio.com website. Addictive doesn't cover it...

As my interest and commitment to my exploration of the Dharma intensified, so it created in my mind a distinct separation between myself and those around me from the non-Buddhist community. I went on my first retreats, joined a study group in March, wrote my first ever article/blog/post etc. I felt singularly focused and committed to deepening my experiences. I could see the Dharma, like a fine dust, covering and flavouring my every experience. Every morsel of food, every tune I heard, every row I had with my partner, was infused with the Dharma. I think it would not be unfair to say that there was barely a minute of any day which went by when I was not immersed in something Dharmic, mindful or reflective. I constantly obsessed about conditionality, the 12 Niyamas, ethical debates and the search for the true nature of absolute mind, what the Tibetan tradition calls 'Rigpa'. I had the Buddhism "Bug", and I had it bad. I had no idea at the time how I must have come across to my non-Sangha friends. Or to my new Sangha, for that matter. People said things to me that were pleasing to hear. They unwittingly inflated my ego, and super-charged my already compulsive behaviour and unintegrated flame-thrower-like enthusiasm. Although I appeared happy and content with my life, all this intensive, white-knuckled effort served to achieve was to broaden the yawning chasm that was appearing between my partner and I. As we all know, cold silence has a tendency to atrophy any sense of Compassion.

Thus it went, as you are all aware and as I explored in one of my previous posts "The Porcelain Lotus". In June we moved house from Buxton to Glossop, again in the Peak District, but this time with a far more agreeable 30 min commute.  In spite of knowing it was the final roll of the dice for us, it still hurt like hell when the inevitable came to pass, and up to that point in my life, I had never felt more alone. I then struggled with my sister's diagnosis with Stage Four bowl, liver and lung cancer, the news having reached me three weeks after the separation. At the time I was already finding it hard to cope with an increased work demand, with now the added pressures of finding somewhere to live (on my own for the first time) and the natural tension of having to live on in the same house as my ex for two extra months. This was made all the more stressful as I had just begun exchanging emails with a fellow Mitra at the centre. We struck up a lively and engaging correspondence, and for several weeks enjoyed getting to know each other a little. Sadly, I am no expert in these fields, (inter-organisational romances or women in general for that matter) and having done the sensible thing and tried to hold back my emotions, I realised too late that the reason I was unable to open up on a deeper level was that it was just too much, too intense, too soon. You can't give what you don't have. I know this now, and also know that if we have an inkling that this may be the case, no amount of wishing for it or fervent desire will automatically guarantee that  it will manifest or become apparent. I suppose that could tie in with conditionality, i.e. What conditions are required for a person to be in enough of a "good place" to preclude emotionally availability towards potential partners? How do you know when "you are ready?" Etc. much like a plant, you can't go pulling it up out of the pot every day to see how the roots are doing and expect healthy development. That's what I did though, a constant, arid interrogation and 2nd guessing of myself and motives. I'd already made the conscious decision to never bother again looking outside the Sangha for love. Indeed, the idea of a secular romance seemed mutually exclusive with my loose and tenuous grasp (an apt word) of spiritual growth. I mean, come on, what was the point in being with someone unless they are on the same path as I, and moreover beneficial to my spiritual development? Ah, but therein the real danger lies; I hadn't realised that inherent risk in setting up goals and chasing after them. In establishing bliss-like-states of mind and lofty ideals as my perceived 'norm', I then suffered hideously when I realised that they too are unstable and impermanent. It goes to show the stark contrast between the relative approaches to the the Dharma in the West, and in the East. Especially in India, where it's followers are concerned more with wider social change than with establishing lofty mental states. In the West, we tend to bait and dangle, to motivate ourselves most often with material and emotional "carrots". Over that last few months, I have heard many, many newcomers to the Introduction to Buddhism classes talk about the transformative power of the Dharma, of absorbed mental states, of developing insight and imagination, clarity and profound wisdom. Often I hear people say that they started practicing/meditating regularly when they stated to perceive certain benefits with regards to their various mental states. Often people find that they are calmer, life seems richer, the simplest of occurrences herald previously unimaginable profundity. The muffled, unseen flutterings of a train station pigeon, the sound of old friends bumping into each other in the streets, on the buses and on the trains, the smell of a fried egg on a Monday morning - all seem to have been suffused with a particular intense fragility, a certain heady richness, making it difficult to take in and unsustainable in the long run. "Humankind cannot bear very much reality" as T.S Elliot once famously said, and looking back, I never stood a chance....

When I got the news of my sister, it broke my heart. She is my oldest sister, and although we had seen less of each other in recent years, whilst growing up we were extraordinarily close. I remember her from my earliest days always being the funny, practical, cool one of my older siblings. Needless to say, I took it pretty badly, and coupled with other pressures, I slowly slumped into a depression. I started finding my drinking increasing in gentle increments, and struggled to open up to friends either at work or within the Sangha. I didn't want people to see me as weak, feeble or neurotic. I wanted to been seen as being authentic, being genuinely integrated, pure of motive and deed. I wanted to use my own body and mind to "prove the Dharma right". Let my faith in the Three Jewels manifest itself spontaneously in the complete outer and inner transformation of the individual! OH, but all is indeed Vanity! Like a chick, trying to push it's way through the egg before it is ready to hatch, although the direction was fine, and the desire to grow was sincere, due to my inexperience, I was left vulnerable and exposed, featherless and shivering, trying to control my life through periods of extreme renunciation and asceticism. Meat, dairy products, white sugar, booze, nicotine, masterbation, facial hair, if it could be renounced, I tried it, and ended up adding things to a list that seemed to grow weekly. I fasted, meditated twice a day, went running every other, and took a dizzying variety of multivitamins and Omega-3 supplements, often simultaneously. Again, as we know, I am not a man of half measures. 

Clearly the life of strict renunciation is not the way for me, at least, not now...

End result was that I woke up one day in somebody else's life. And I completely freaked out. In 3 months, I had gone from living with one person in our dream house, enjoying the occasional illicit beer or toke on a joint, to living on my own in a tiny new place, a tea-total vegetarian with a new partner and the onset of an anxiety disorder caused by my sisters ill health, the breakup of my relationship and subsequent relocation. In retrospect, it's clear that immediately diving head-first into a new relationship and then trying to take on 29 years of conditioning wasn't the most sensible thing in the world, but my hindsight seems to be 20-20, and often Olympic standard! For the mistakes I made though, and the people I unintentionally hurt along the way this year, I am deeply remorseful, and wish to use my sense of shame to motivate me to change, rather than some lofty aspiration to be "pure", whatever that may be... Sometimes all you can do is apologise, learn from your mistakes, and move on in metta...

However, that we sometimes get burned cannot be seen as an excuse for not striking the occasional match, if the warmth and comfort, safety and security of the fire will see us through the coming winter months. The spiritual path is often depicted as comprising of skillfull ethical decisions in life leading to experiences of greater levels if meditative absorption, which in turns leads, in theory, if we are fortunate enough, to developing insight, vision and imagination. But what about our original intention, or willed actions, our volitions, our Karma? Our motivation seems to me to be key here. If we simply give everything up overnight that is familiar to us, then we can end up with a very isolated awareness of our own experiences, with no tangible framework within which we can assess and integrate them. We need to start of with a clear notion of what is being refined, without which we cannot hope to evaluate our motivations and adjust our perceptions accordingly. To use a rather crude analogy, I tried to clean the house by hurling all the furniture out of an upstairs window, and ended up confused as to why it became so cold, bare, inhospitable and unfamiliar. In order to give something up, we aught to have a clear sense of what will hopefully be arising in its place, without a desire to chase after it with terminal intensity. I also came across the notion that in order to be able to give, we must be at least receptive to receiving, in principle. Generosity in its truest form is reciprocal in nature. The problem we face is that sometimes that when we want to give, or to renounce something, we must be sure we are able to give it or renounce it sincerely in the first place. To be unreceptive to the response will inhibit further generosity. That is not to suggest the generosity should arise on a purely exploitative basis, but equally we can't empty our emotional or spiritual overdrafts for the sake of others without first assessing our relative emotional needs and spiritual "cash-flow" concerns. The essence of skilful action is that which promotes happiness and contentment for oneself and others, without compromising the position of EITHER party - actions and willed volitions that benefit others but bring suffering and misfortune to ourselves cannot be said to be truly skillful. 

We need, more than ever, to engage with ourselves as we truly are, and then assess as to where we would like to provisionally end up (hopefully, in my case, as an enlightened being, but hey, we're all different, right?) We then must make allowances for (and even potentially welcome with open arms) our failings between now and such a time as we achieve our goals, and become less concerned with time-frames. I often see the path of spiritual progress as taking the smallest of steps in the greatest of directions, but sometimes I forget that the smallest gap between two points is in fact zero; That a rest is as good as change (and visa versa), and that sometimes on the path of life, the best "step" one can take is to sit down, and shut up - thanks Brad Warner! Non-effort, that is, attempting to move from a linear oscillation between gain and loss, pleasure and pain to a more vertical spiral mode of existence is not easy. Not by any stretch of the imagination is it a small feat to find oneself in a position where we have finally undone all those years of conditioning. His Holiness the Dalai Lama claims that he is "a very poor Buddhist, with very poor daily practice." I find this a source of great comfort, especially when he adds that true change, transformative, consistent change is hard to spot. "do not worry about results" he says in that delightfully ideosincratic, rich baritone voice of his. "Maybe after 10, 20, 30 years we see small change... I have been practicing the Dharma for maybe 70 years... So now, I see small change, little change, but still change! With awareness, with a little effort, change is always positive. So, now, I am happy!" Again, makes me feel better. 

Clearly, I have't got that far to go before Enlightenment...

We may not see it, but as drop by drop the proverbial jar is filled with either water or poison, so we are filled with either positive or negative qualities, and out of those, thoughts arise. In dependence on those thoughts, we speak and we communicate ideas. We may also be lucky enough to convey or discuss the Dharma. Our words become our actions, our actions become our habits and these in turn solidify and harden into our character. Our character can perhaps best described as the person we are when no-one's watching, and in that respect, maybe it is through periods of aloneness that we can get an idea of who and what we are? It seems to me that therefor the most important preparatory activity prior to attempted spiritual diagnosis would be inactivity itself. We can be so busy trying to change to please others, trying to be SEEN as a good person, trying to define ourselves by our unconsciously pious and altruistic ideals, that we fail to consult the spiritual map with the large arrow donating that indeed "You are here"... You are HERE... You ARE here... YOU are here.... But where are any of us really? Undefinable, ever shifting, unquantifiable puddles of humanity. Some skin, bones, memories and dreams, loosely tied together with a name, job and a postcode, to paraphrase Sangharakshita. We think we are more like the mighty river, but we trickle like streams, and conversely when we come to terms with this, our separate tributaries can combine and sweep away whole cities. It's up to us. It really is...

Near my childhood home, in rural Wales, there is a small bench equidistant from my house and the village itself. The view from the bench affords the weary traveller a chance to gaze upon a vista of imposing wooded hills, called the Gaer Fawr (or "Large Fort") named after the Neolithic settlement which once graced its summit. Years before I discovered the Dharma, and from the age of about five or six, used to love to visit this bench, sit quietly, close my eyes, and imagine those people that used to live upon those hills, amongst those trees. Did they look down upon the valley, and question what their uncertain future would hold? I like to think so. Fittingly, upon the bench there used to be an inscription, a small plaque, now sadly  long gone, with lettering worn shallow by time, lichen and disinterest. Upon it, it read:

"Tarry, rest and contemplate:

What of Life? Whereof Fate?

Could this be thy final hour?

Gaze then, upon The Gaer Fawr,

And think of things eternal..."

The view from the bench itself...

Happy New Year 2013 everyone, I hope you all enjoy/enjoyed (depending on when you read this) your evening, and that the new year will give us all a welcome and sometimes much needed opportunity for a good hard look in the mirror, and the sense to take what we see with a pinch of salt and tablespoons of kindness! At this point, I suppose I should be making some kind of resolution for the coming 12 months, but I won't. I'm going to try and practice non-effort, work more on working less, and instead of a New Years Day resolution, I am resolving to try and have a Year of New Days! I 'm just not going to try very hard at it, or care too much about the results....

See you next year, all my love, and now if you excuse me, I've got a party to go to!

Wishing you well, your friend, The Dharma-Farmer x

New Years Eve 2013 - hilariously familiar for something that hasn't actually happened yet...