"We don't get wise by staying in a room with all the doors and windows closed."
Pema Chodron
Because I have a retinue (historical and sometimes hysterical) of passionate friends, even when we are all attempting to come from our pure heartspace, it can get loud. (Same with my family...I'm sure there is a reason I've chosen this stewpot...) When I first began to study Buddhism, I believed that "being quiet, being open to everything without critical thinking" was the route to Bodhisattvahood.
Wrong.
In the same way that running off into the woods and living in a closed-up cabin, cut off from the world and her people, doesn't get you anywhere (Thoreau and Buddha-before-enlightenment discovered this fact!), so, too, simply zoning out, ignoring conflict and bad behavior, gets you nowhere. (Always: The Middle Path.) Sometimes I think that that is where my frustration with lots of "New Age" workshops, literature, teachings and practices comes from: inaction around the tough stuff. Always "being nice" and "ignoring the negative" isn't an answer to anything.
A Buddhist nun friend of mine, in L.A., had just finished taking her vows. She had made the decision to shave her head and wear her robes, full-time, even as she continued working as a social services nurse at a clinic for at-risk teens. For her, this was a huge step--to come out of the closet, not only as a Buddhist, but as a full-fledged practicing nun! (Around teens whose world-view and educational experience didn't include much about Eastern religions nor philosophies.) Still, she took the chance. Surprisingly, it wasn't the kids who gave her grief, it was the mainstream, upper middle class "professionals", rushing around Los Angeles, throwing money at any situation they couldn't control to their own benefit, who gave her the most problems.
One day, after lunch, she returned to our agency, red-faced and huffing. She'd gone to the bank to make a deposit. A man wearing an Armani suit, imported sunglasses, and smelling like a boutique in Beverly Hills,blew past her (and all the other customers in line), actually elbowing my middle-aged nun friend out of his way. As people stood there, in shock, he tossed an explanation over his shoulder:
"I'm in a hurry--my Mercedes is in a red zone!".
In the long bank lines (those kind that look like Disneyland rides, with the ropes and posts making people snake along, waiting their turns till the next teller is available), everyone is frustrated, of course. Everyone is usually on their way to someplace else. I am always surprised at the basic civility most people express, as they wait their turn. This man was an anomaly, for sure. So, everyone was taken by surprise, and stood there, quietly muttering, but not saying anything to him, directly.
Then, my friend took action.
My friend walked up behind the man, as he began making demands of the teller. She tapped him on the shoulder. She informed him that not only had he cut in front of at least two dozen people who were before him, but he also elbowed her in the ribs, as he made his mad dash to the window. She didn't understand these aggressive actions. There was no hurry, because the bank was open for another four hours. His choice, to park in the red zone, was not a reason everyone else had to suffer. She would appreciate it if he would step down and go to the back of the line, as everyone else had done, upon arrival.
The man looked at this sixty-year-old-white-female-hundred- and- ten- pound-bald-robe-wearing-nun, and spat out: "I thought you Buddhists were pacifists! Show some compassion, Lady!"
He completed his transaction, still blocking her. The teller, stunned into silence (and probably wanting to diffuse the situation as quickly as possible and get rid of the guy before there was a riot--or a "scene") put her head down and gave the man his deposit slip. Then, the guy in the thousand dollar suit, rushed past the booing crowd, jumped into his Mercedes SLR, and screeched away.
My friend was trembling with upset and rage, when she returned to the office.
"I am so mad--at myself--for letting what happened affect me. I know I had to say something to him--what he did to everyone in that bank was rude and wrong--being silent would have been equally wrong. But letting his actions get to me so deeply and shake me up? That's where I have to work!"
I was moved by the story--by her courage, her conviction, her sense of injustice for other people,( and herself) and for the set-up of a societal situation we all were living by (banking). I was also touched by her taking of her vows, her moving into the monastery, her wearing the robes--yet still participating in the outside world-- in a compassionate way. Mostly, though, the fact that she knew where her real "lesson" was--letting this man's stupid actions and ignorant words "unseat her"--after she had done all she could do to rectify the encounter--owning that lesson. Wow.
Today, as I read Pema Chodron's words about "idiot compassion"--about people zoning out, smiling in a blissed out state, and allowing people to run amok, all over them--because the blissed out ones misidentify silence for sainthood--I think of this story. The lojong teaching of "Don't misinterpret" seems to me, to speak directly to this situation. We must be present. We must pay attention. We must learn to really LISTEN, and then, only then, speak and take action, to reap the most benefit for the other people involved--and for ourselves.
We can't mask "control" for compassion.
We do have to risk dropping our agenda--being willing to risk whatever the Universe has in store for us without desiring our own, flawed plans, as the ultimate outcome. Yes. But we must also be ready to step in and be clear. To listen, observe, decide to do that which most benefits the situation--trusting our clean hearts. Sometimes this is scary. (Sometimes it is risky.) But, I think, if our intentions are aimed to the highest good, and we don't let the outcome knock us off the path, we remain seated in our practice.
As was my friend.
Pema Chodron
Because I have a retinue (historical and sometimes hysterical) of passionate friends, even when we are all attempting to come from our pure heartspace, it can get loud. (Same with my family...I'm sure there is a reason I've chosen this stewpot...) When I first began to study Buddhism, I believed that "being quiet, being open to everything without critical thinking" was the route to Bodhisattvahood.
Wrong.
In the same way that running off into the woods and living in a closed-up cabin, cut off from the world and her people, doesn't get you anywhere (Thoreau and Buddha-before-enlightenment discovered this fact!), so, too, simply zoning out, ignoring conflict and bad behavior, gets you nowhere. (Always: The Middle Path.) Sometimes I think that that is where my frustration with lots of "New Age" workshops, literature, teachings and practices comes from: inaction around the tough stuff. Always "being nice" and "ignoring the negative" isn't an answer to anything.
A Buddhist nun friend of mine, in L.A., had just finished taking her vows. She had made the decision to shave her head and wear her robes, full-time, even as she continued working as a social services nurse at a clinic for at-risk teens. For her, this was a huge step--to come out of the closet, not only as a Buddhist, but as a full-fledged practicing nun! (Around teens whose world-view and educational experience didn't include much about Eastern religions nor philosophies.) Still, she took the chance. Surprisingly, it wasn't the kids who gave her grief, it was the mainstream, upper middle class "professionals", rushing around Los Angeles, throwing money at any situation they couldn't control to their own benefit, who gave her the most problems.
One day, after lunch, she returned to our agency, red-faced and huffing. She'd gone to the bank to make a deposit. A man wearing an Armani suit, imported sunglasses, and smelling like a boutique in Beverly Hills,blew past her (and all the other customers in line), actually elbowing my middle-aged nun friend out of his way. As people stood there, in shock, he tossed an explanation over his shoulder:
"I'm in a hurry--my Mercedes is in a red zone!".
In the long bank lines (those kind that look like Disneyland rides, with the ropes and posts making people snake along, waiting their turns till the next teller is available), everyone is frustrated, of course. Everyone is usually on their way to someplace else. I am always surprised at the basic civility most people express, as they wait their turn. This man was an anomaly, for sure. So, everyone was taken by surprise, and stood there, quietly muttering, but not saying anything to him, directly.
Then, my friend took action.
My friend walked up behind the man, as he began making demands of the teller. She tapped him on the shoulder. She informed him that not only had he cut in front of at least two dozen people who were before him, but he also elbowed her in the ribs, as he made his mad dash to the window. She didn't understand these aggressive actions. There was no hurry, because the bank was open for another four hours. His choice, to park in the red zone, was not a reason everyone else had to suffer. She would appreciate it if he would step down and go to the back of the line, as everyone else had done, upon arrival.
The man looked at this sixty-year-old-white-female-hundred- and- ten- pound-bald-robe-wearing-nun, and spat out: "I thought you Buddhists were pacifists! Show some compassion, Lady!"
He completed his transaction, still blocking her. The teller, stunned into silence (and probably wanting to diffuse the situation as quickly as possible and get rid of the guy before there was a riot--or a "scene") put her head down and gave the man his deposit slip. Then, the guy in the thousand dollar suit, rushed past the booing crowd, jumped into his Mercedes SLR, and screeched away.
My friend was trembling with upset and rage, when she returned to the office.
"I am so mad--at myself--for letting what happened affect me. I know I had to say something to him--what he did to everyone in that bank was rude and wrong--being silent would have been equally wrong. But letting his actions get to me so deeply and shake me up? That's where I have to work!"
I was moved by the story--by her courage, her conviction, her sense of injustice for other people,( and herself) and for the set-up of a societal situation we all were living by (banking). I was also touched by her taking of her vows, her moving into the monastery, her wearing the robes--yet still participating in the outside world-- in a compassionate way. Mostly, though, the fact that she knew where her real "lesson" was--letting this man's stupid actions and ignorant words "unseat her"--after she had done all she could do to rectify the encounter--owning that lesson. Wow.
Today, as I read Pema Chodron's words about "idiot compassion"--about people zoning out, smiling in a blissed out state, and allowing people to run amok, all over them--because the blissed out ones misidentify silence for sainthood--I think of this story. The lojong teaching of "Don't misinterpret" seems to me, to speak directly to this situation. We must be present. We must pay attention. We must learn to really LISTEN, and then, only then, speak and take action, to reap the most benefit for the other people involved--and for ourselves.
We can't mask "control" for compassion.
We do have to risk dropping our agenda--being willing to risk whatever the Universe has in store for us without desiring our own, flawed plans, as the ultimate outcome. Yes. But we must also be ready to step in and be clear. To listen, observe, decide to do that which most benefits the situation--trusting our clean hearts. Sometimes this is scary. (Sometimes it is risky.) But, I think, if our intentions are aimed to the highest good, and we don't let the outcome knock us off the path, we remain seated in our practice.
As was my friend.
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