Keeping Balance: On Not Transferring the Ox's Load to the Cow (or the Donkey)

This week's slogan didn't resonate with me at first, even after going through all my normal research.

Don't transfer the ox's load to the cow.

Of course, being who I am, the first thing that came to mind after I read the slogan was the opening of Cow and Chicken, but once I was done singing that a couple of times, I moved onto the research.

Because I've found such help there over the course of this blog, I decided to turn to Judy Lief's piece at the Tricyle website first. The whole of her short discussion seems to look at concepts like false modesty and shifting responsibility at work and in our personal lives. I, on the other hand, tend to think false modesty is bunk. Further, I've got a bad habit of taking on too much at once and saying yes to everyone. Learning to delegate is one of the biggest challenges I've had in my professional career. At the very end of Lief's piece, just before her suggestions for applying this teaching to our daily lives, she did share one idea that started to help this come into focus for me:

"This slogan is also about developing skill in working with others. It is an art to know how much responsibility to take on yourself and how much to direct to each of the people you are working with so that each person feels challenged but not overwhelmed."

That's when it started to click that, even if I'm the ox and others are the cow, I still need to figure out a balance.

I turned next to the place where I had been starting in the past. Now, the translation provided by UnfetteredMind.org isn't different enough to share it here, but the brief explanatory paragraph did begin my understanding of this teaching:

"Life is what you experience. What you experience is your life. Don't try to shift the unpleasantness your reactive patterns bring you onto another person."

I could help but think of all the times I've said things like, "They're too busy to add something else to their plate, so I'm not even going to ask for help because I know they'll say, 'no.'" It's a different way of shifting blame for the unpleasantness, but I think it's still within the scope of this tenet.

So, instead of following Lief's advice, "Pay attention to the temptation to shift your burdens to those who are weaker than you," I'm going to reverse it and pay attention to the temptation to shift the burdens from others to myself. I'm going to keep that poor donkey up there (which was the picture accompanying the Unfettered Minds post) in mind.

So, that's what I'll be working on. Until next time, namaste and all that.

To Pounce or Not To Pounce: On Not Bringing Things to a Painful Point

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Those cats in the gif are (mostly) just playing. If you look elsewhere, you'll find pictures and videos of these two cuddled up and friendly. Trust me, I'm a big fan of their blog so I know. 

But this kind of angry or even play-angry pouncing cat behavior is exactly what came to mind as I was reading up on this lojong teaching:

Don't bring things to a painful point.

On the surface, it's kind of a no-brainer. Why bring things to a painful point? The whole goal for my studying Buddhism is to ease away from the sometimes painful noise in my head, right? But then I started digging for commentary.

The first thing that stood out to me as relevant from Judy Lief's piece was a doozy: 

"We all have lots of faults, and it is easy to get caught up in dwelling on them. It is easy to see all the things that are wrong about everyone and everything else as well."

I'm completely guilty of focusing on my own faults, sometimes to the exclusion of all else. Further, I a keen eye for the faults of others. I try not to be overly judgmental, but sometimes it's really hard to stop. We need to be able to judge safe or unsafe, useful or not useful, but it's easy to get into a habit of judging every little aspect of every little thing. Even more than baseball, I sometimes think judging others is the "Great American Passtime."

When Lief moves onto discuss the aim of this tenet, she does so succinctly:

"According to this slogan, instead of pouncing on people’s weaknesses and vulnerabilities, we should be providing encouragement and support for their strengths."

I already do this to a certain extent. I've embraced a philosophy of management known as Strengths Based Leadership, but this teaching is making me think I need to expand that view beyond the workplace and even beyond my group of friends. This is going to take a serious amount of thinks, since I've yet to find a consistent way to draw the line between healthy judgement - I shouldn't walk down that dark alley alone at night with a $100 sticking out of my back pocket - and unhealthy judgement. However, I know one of my own strengths is perseverance, so I'm sure I'll get it eventually.

Lief's advice for practice is going to be hard, but that doesn't mean I shouldn't try:

"Notice the quality of faultfinding, which can take place on a light level or on a more going-for-the-jugular scale. When you find yourself caught in this pattern, notice your motivation. When you have difficulty with a person, can you see beyond their faults? Can you find a positive potential to build on, even if it seems small?"

The next time I get caught in the rut of judging, I'll try to bring this idea to mind.

So, that's what I'll be working on. Until next time, namaste and all that. 

Breathing and Just Being: On Not Waiting in Ambush

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I know: it's been a while. "Better late than never" feels like a hollow apology, but I'm going to have to go with that. Things get busy, and it's unfortunate but this blog tends to fall by the wayside first. But so long as I keep coming back to it, so long as I don't give up, it's okay. I really believe that.

Regardless of any self-derision, I want to move onto the new slogan:

Don't wait in ambush. 

Alternatively, according to UnfetteredMinds.org: "Don't lie in ambush." This didn't resonate as a problem for me, but I'm committed to this line of study no matter what. That means I did look further, to the brief explanatory paragraph:

"You wait in ambush because you seek revenge. Do taking and sending with the anger that drives the revenge."

I'll admit I tried to get even with people a couple of times when I was much younger, but I realized I was hurting myself more than I was hurting them and I lost interest in the idea. So I turned to Tricycle. Once again, I found myself grateful for Judy Lief's insight:

"This slogan is about scheming mind, the mind that never forgets a slight or an insult. Instead it keeps eating away at us, sometimes for years, and even decades." 

I may not seek revenge, but I have been known to hold a grudge. I work to forgive, and frequently am able to do so, but it's rare that I forget. And then, towards the end of her short piece, I found something even more resonant:

"Those remembered insults we hold onto so tightly have taken over our mind. By working with this slogan, we can free ourselves from that unhealthy pattern." 

And all I could think of was the stereotypical little kid, like Agnes up there, holding onto their breath like it's going to change anything. Really, the only person it harms is the child. And holding onto past hurts, whether I seek revenge or not, is only going to hurt me. I need to learn to stop holding my breath. I need to learn to breath and just let things be. That's why, even though the slogan itself didn't seem relevant, Lief's advice for putting it into action did:

"In the present, notice your response when somebody insults you. What is the physical sensation and what thoughts arise in your mind?

Looking back, do a grudge survey.  How many grudges have you been carrying with you, and for how long? How does it feel to carry a grudge, and how does it feel when the grudge softens or dissolves or you consciously let it go?"

I've done it before. I remember how good I felt when I realized I'd let go of my anger about my divorce. If I can forgive and forget that, I can forgive and forget anything. I will need to work on it, but I know I can do it.

So, that's what I'll be working on. Until next time, namaste and all that.

They Aren't Half Bad: On Not Maligning Others

Been a while, I know, but between vacation and then getting sick... Regardless, the point of this blog is that I keep at it, not that I meet any sort of schedule. And that's what I'm doing.

Onto the next teaching, though:

Don't malign others.

An alternate translation, from UnfetteredMinds.org, is "Don't lash out." A bit more direct than the translation on the cards I've been using for this project. Further, the UnfetteredMinds.org explanatory paragraph is pretty helpful for this one:

"Giving expression to your anger by lashing out at people who offend or insult you only reinforces anger in you. Do taking and sending with the anger itself."

If you've forgotten, taking and sending is a central part of the practice of lojong. And it is a solid suggestion for how not to malign and lash out, but I still wanted to consult the Judy Lief piece on this teaching. I'm so glad I did.

Lief started out with a wallop:

"When we malign someone, our intention is to cause harm. Our words are spiteful and ill-spirited. There is a saying that 'sticks and stones can break my bones, but words can never hurt me.' But in fact words do have power and they certainly can hurt."

I couldn't help thinking of Waldorf and Statler. For the most part, they do nothing *but* malign. One of my favorite of their bits is when Waldorf says, "They aren't half bad," and Statler responds, "Nope, they're all bad!" Whether you're maligning to hurt or maligning for a joke, it's still going to do more harm to you than anything else. 

Turning back to what Lief has to say, 

"If we need to malign others to make us feel good about ourselves by comparison, we will never feel all that great. And at the other extreme, when we encounter people who are exceptional, that approach will make us feel pathetic in comparison. According to this slogan we should stop that whole destructive approach."

Comparison is, after all, the thief of happiness. That's why Lief's suggestion for working with this teaching, "Pay attention to your speech and to how you talk about and to other people.  What is the difference between speaking critically and using speech to harm or to destroy?" resonates particularly strongly - even more strongly than the idea of taking and sending when I would normally criticize and malign.

So that's what I'll be doing. Until next time, namaste and all that.

Take the Left Turn at Albuquerque: On Not Being So Predictable

This slogan made me wince when I first read it:

Don't be so predictable. 

It made me wince because I am so very predictable. I have my well-worn patterns, grooves I've worn in my life. Sometimes predictability can be comforting, but other times it can only get us into trouble. The very next thing I thought of was Bugs Bunny and his predilection for never turning left at Albuquerque. It always gets him in trouble. Sure, his troubles end up being fairly entertaining for the rest of us, but think how happy that bull would have been if he'd been left to his own devices.

The thought of BB and Albuquerque never left me as I did my typical research. Skipped ahead to the Tricycle piece and was happy I'd done so because I found a few pieces that resonated, albeit uncomfortably.

"If we do not make an effort to do otherwise, if we do not pay attention, then much of what we do will be in the form of automatic reactions. We can see this whole process as it is happening, although often we do not. We might recognize it in the sinking feeling of 'Here I go again.' We might see it coming, but our reaction is so fast that we can’t stop ourselves."

 Yes. I resemble that remark. Quite a bit. I've lost track of how many times I've said something like "Here I go again" to myself over one emotional reaction or another - especially the negative ones. It really is Bugs all over again. The things that kick my anxiety up or my anger or even my pride... there so much that is predictable. 

I can't exhort BB to trust his instincts and take that left, but I can work on my own predictability. Lief's advice will be easier to practice since I'm on vacation this week and will mostly only be seeing friends who I adore:

"When you feel threatened, don’t get defensive, pause, and then react. When you are praised, don’t just lap it up, pause, and then react. What do you notice?  Explore the contrast between using experience to further your own agenda and seeing it from a broader perspective."

So that's what I'll be doing. Until next time, namaste and all that. 

Avoiding the Sleeping Death: On Abandoning Poisonous Food

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Last week I had to abandon hope of fruition, which didn't bother me so much because I gave that up long ago with regards to my practice of Buddhism. This week, the tenet instructs us to

Abandon poisonous food.

I've learned by now that any tenet that sounds super easy - of course I'll give up poisonous food! - is not going to be straightforwards at all. And a quick glance at the translation and explanatory paragraph for this teaching on UnfetteredMinds.org support that. Well, the translation isn't that different: "Give up poisoned food." But the explanation...

"The poison is the tendency to form an identity around any activity or training. Let go of any sense of being special because you practice mind training."

Oof. I resemble this remark. I take a certain pride in the work I do studying Buddhism, but this tenet is reminding me that this sort of pride can actually get in the way of the work I'm doing. And that's exactly what Judy Lief, in her piece about this tenet, says:

"The image of poisonous food suggests an experience that is seemingly nourishing, but in fact can kill you. In terms of slogan practice, this image refers in particular to the poison of ego-fixation and its power to transform the nutritious food of loving-kindness practice into poison."

That's exactly what happens to Snow White when the evil queen gives her that apple that will induce a sleeping death.

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Or, to use Lief's phrasing, "Eating poisonous food feeds the ego and poisons our spiritual freshness and innocence."

She then goes on to exhort her readers to

"Whether you follow a spiritual tradition, or you are affiliated with no tradition, reflect on... how you approach the spiritual path and the cultivation of loving kindness. Notice how easy it is to slip into approaching spirituality as just another commodity, bought and sold in the marketplace. Pay special attention to how nutritious food turns into poison."

So that's what I'll be doing. Until next time, namaste and all that. 

Infernos and Asymptotes: On Abandoning Hope of Fruition

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When I first read the next slogan, I laughed and then groaned and then laughed again.

Abandon any hope of fruition.

Really, this is the one sentence version of my biggest hurdle with Buddhism. Letting go of that hope of perfection, that ridiculous hope, isn't impossible but it is incredibly difficult for a recovering Type A like me.

Not that I needed further explanation, but I still went through the motions of research. UnfetteredMind.org's alternate translation, "Give up any hope for results," confirmed what I already knew. However, their explanatory paragraph did add bit more about the "why":

"Hope for results takes you out of the present. Do what needs to be done now because it needs to be done now, not for the result it might bring."

Living in the here & now is the goal, after all, so anything that takes me out of the present is a problem. I get that.

Next step was Tricycle Magazine's take on this slogan, written by the inimitable Judy Lief. The entire piece kind of hurt to read, but one passage that really stood out was this:

"So much education and so much of the conventional thinking about how to motivate people is based on that model of hope and fear. We learn to expect some kind of reward or confirmation any time we succeed and to expect some form of punishment when we do not.  But according to this slogan, it is better to abandon that whole approach. In that way, when we act, there are no hidden agendas or ulterior motives."

Wow, a bit too close to home for comfort, but it's exactly when I'm out of my comfort zone that I tend to learn the most.

My first thought after I'd finished all my reading was of that oft quoted line from Dante's Inferno. I think that's why I groaned and laughed. Diligence and results are are the point of a Protestant work ethic aren't they? I may have been raised Jewish and I may have become a Buddhist, but I was raised in this country and it's impossible to get away from that mentality.

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But then I remembered my favorite mathematical concept, "Asymptote." I bring it up here because the concept was first introduced to me in some book or article about positive psychology and its applications. Beyond its strict application in math, for me an asymptote is about two lines that get closer and closer but never touch. I like to think I take that approach to Buddhism: of getting closer and closer to the ideal but giving up any hope of being an actual living bodhisattva.

Lief's advice for how to act on this teaching is particularly daunting to me, but all the more important for that:

"How is it possible to maintain your focus, to 'keep your eyes on the prize,' without getting fixated on results? As you go about your activities, pay attention to the difference between having a goal and being taken over by your hopes, fears, and speculations."

 So that's what I'll be doing this week. Until next time, namaste and all that.