The Runny Nose Sutra (If The Buddha Got Sick)

This past week or two, for me, seems to be a concentrated lesson about the dharma of illness and physical health. Everywhere I turn in the past fortnight, the theme seems to come back over and over, through my own experience and those around me.

I had the wonderful privilege to experience nearly a week of nearly immobilizing back pain, followed by another week of bronchitis/asthma which opened my experience to the feeling of not getting enough air. Days later, I was deeply moved as my teacher agreed to take my phone call, even though he had to lie down during the call and cut it short due to his own bout with some kind of flu.

All my siblings rallied over email this week to get my ailing father (now nearly 70) a special 'senior cellphone' that had big buttons, in case he got lost while running an errand alone. My best friend called me Tuesday afternoon, letting me know she'd been throwing up all afternoon, and would need a companion to help her get to the emergency room to get fluids, since nothing was staying down. She's of a Buddhist mindset as well, so we had an interesting seven-hour field trip through the American emergency care system. That could be it's very own blog entry.

And another dear friend is 2,000 miles away called and shared some stories of helping get her mother ready to die as consciously as possible. My brother's wife finally got the news from Malaysia that her sister had finally passed on from her long bout with cancer.

I promise you, I'm not making any of this up in editorial license! I also don't mean to wax too heavy, either... samsara just seems so real at times, doesn't it? Sometimes our reality just screams with one of the great teachings, as if the Universe existed just for our own benefit and learning!

I don't know about you, but I really enjoy a good Dharma story. Spiritual teaching stories pervade nearly all cultures and all time periods, and form one of the oldest teaching tools ever. I guess you could say I started getting deeper into Buddhism as a "Listener", but not in the traditional sense. No, I became quickly an avid consumer of "Podcast Buddhism." Without leaving my home town, I heard Buddhist lectures from all over the world.

But you know, in the hundreds of hours of talks I have listened to, I have not yet heard the story about the talk the Buddha gave to his disciples as he was all curled up under his bodhi-blanket, his nose running, with a fever, chills, and the runs. I mean, he MUST have fallen ill once or twice in 40 years of walking all over India! What was he like in those moments? Did he get cranky? Did he take medicine? We'll never know, as those stories don't seem to inspire listeners to Enlightenment quite as quickly, so not even great sages thought to write them down for us.

Despite the conspicuously missing "Running Nose Sutra", we still have considerable teaching and guidance on working with pain and ill-health. What is interesting is how hard it is to remember these teachings when you are actually sick! Being ill I think brings up more patterned behavior than almost anything else, besides maybe sex and food.

My question for the Medicine Buddha: does it create suffering to want health and feel aversion to sickness? Is eating well and exercising just a very clever cover-up for the fear and loathing of sickness and death? How about taking medicine? Why take it? I guess that stops some suffering... sometimes it brings more. The suffering doesn't really come from our bodies, it seems. It may come more from our expectations that we "should be" healthy, or our insistence that we did nothing to "deserve this illness," or any of a hundred and eight other possible stories that in and of themselves cause us much more suffering than the actual physical symptoms of our disease.

At best, we might be permitted to desire good health, if we but dedicate it to the service of all sentient beings. For if we do not have health, we cannot do much for the suffering of others (except perhaps increase it by coughing on them).

But the truth is I am not quite there yet. I still want good health for myself, so I can move fast again, look good, stay up late on the computer, have sex, eat cheese, or any other myriad of daily activities that I have taken for granted in my delusional moments of good health that we mysteriously assume will last forever.

So in dealilng with this last go-round of my own illness, I was blessed in both my back issue, and this breathing issue, forced me to slow down -- to admit my real capacity in that moment.

In the past, before I had Dharma teachings available, I would do whatever I could to escape the discomfort of being ill. I'd take medications, I'd get mentally busy so I wouldn't feel my body. I'd look up all kinds of alternative health fixes to get out of this horrible state of not-health as soon as possible. I often pushed myself very hard to "get through". To an outside observer, I appeared to be someone who really knew how to take care of their health.

But really, when I sat with it this time, I find I am at a deeper level, someone who was very afraid of the vulnerability of being ill, and with all the Stories that go off in my head when it occurs. I had to admit I was deeply NOT at peace with the fact of the inevitability of ill health and death. (Bet you want to leave this blog at the moment, yes? Feel that aversion comin' up? Stick with me...)

So this time around, as the back pain was not so bad as to need major painkillers, and the cough was not so bad as to need much more than a humidifier, I decided to just be with it and not push it away. I tell you, for the first day or so, the terror was palpable.

"Hey! You're not putting any effort into FIXING my body!" "Surely," my Fear told me, "this is going to lead to worsening symptoms and probably eventually DEATH!" My very human ego/mind was not at all happy that it could not function like it likes to. No, every spare neuron seemed needed to pay close attention as to how I was moving and holding my body, so as not to worsen the pain. At work, I couldn't seem to think through simple problems, and I had workmates correcting me frequently, and sometimes just outthinking me to the point where I had to slow them down so I could catch up. Very humbling, indeed!

In fact, even as health is returning, if I really give my Direct Experience serious attention, and just simply stop 'checking out' in the myriad of ways my patterns would dictate, I find my "mind" is not what I have sort of assumed it is... this infinitely powerful and ever-chugging machine that processes all of my sensory input into neat little bins of recognizance; an integrated part of my Being that "is my reality". Nope. Now I had something new operating... and it was WATCHING the mind thrash around at its own lack of capacity due to the body's condition.

Hm. if I'm seeing all this frustration and struggle, then all that must not be Me after all. It was like the physical pains and limitations forced the screen to hold a bigger picture somehow. The illness had 'quieted' my body enough so that my Mind was more audible. Plus, a possible low-grade fever didn't hurt things.

I found myself contemplating the changing of all things, and resting in the knowing that this pain would not last forever. I did some metta "taking and sending" to all those that have worse pain than I have, and who have had it for long periods of time. It was difficult to imagine how people survive those kinds of chronic difficulty. But they do, and have, for thousands of years.

I found this helpful this week for emotional stuff, as well. Part of my own emotional nature, and I'm sure many share this, is that I don't seem to always have knowledge of what causes certain mood shifts. For many years, I have these one-day long bouts of depression. Not suicidal or anything, just a heavy, heavy feeling of wanting to go back to sleep or being completely incapable of thinking or doing anything much at all. I have spent many hours trying to find the cause of these, because if I knew the cause, I could then control the feelings and be free of having to experience them. I formulated many really nifty stories to explain the episodes: "I am a sensitive/empathic person and I'm feeling so-and-so's depression," or "it's a dip in my serotonin levels", or "Depression is just anger at self; I have to now sit and contemplate what I got angry at myself about."

But prior to this last episode, my Teacher went through great effort, even with a stopped-up head and with a raging fever, to encourage me to stop storytelling and return to direct experience as much as possible. So, when I felt that familiar curtain of doom fall down around me, I decided to take a totally different approach than I had ever taken.

Normally, like in the physical illness, I'd attempt to just go on as if it were not really happening. I had never realized it before, but in looking at what came up, I realized that I had frequently turned to caffeine or chocolate or even sex to "lift me out" of my depression. Anything to tweak the brain chemicals so I would not feel this awful, heavy feeling. But with the strength of my Teacher's words in my mind, I committed to weathering out this storm, no matter how long it took. I would stay with what was going on in my body and emotions.

It was perfect timing, too, as I had been up until 3pm with my friend at the hospital the night before, so I had taken the day off. I had nowhere to go, really. I got out my Journal, and just started writing down everything I felt. I was amazed to find a rather large paragraph describing some 10 or 15 different things going on in my body.

And when I started feeling into what was happening emotionally, I was surprised at the vast amount of feeling information that was now streaming into my mind, now that I was actually paying attention to it! I think I filled a few pages of longhand, between the pure noting of emotional tones and then moving into the 'story' behind the emotions. I just took notes like a courtroom stenographer, not editing things, not controlling what I sensed.

The feeling of freedom that gradually outweighed the depression was.... well... beyond words! This horrible "place" that I had been running from for like what feels like forever, was now "just another experience"... neither good nor bad. I stayed with the 'storm' all day, up until going to sleep, careful to just watch it and not make attempts to change it. Not surprisingly, I awoke the next morning, as if the entire previous day was a bad dream. The sadness and heaviness was gone from my mind and body, and I had a really great day!

I am very grateful for that dream-day, as it gave me direct experience of the Third Noble Truth, "There is an end to suffering." Compared to previous bouts of this depressive cloud, I would say I did not suffer this time. I noted emotions. I felt body pains and sensations. But the dramatic thrashing, complaining, fretting and whining that had always accompanied these episodes was not present. Instead of being 'sick', I became 'aware' and that shifted everything.

So if I can do this, believe me, so can you. Next time you find yourself visiting a painful physical or emotional place, make a little pact with yourself that "for just one day" to witness your experience as completely as you can, without telling yourself any stories about the illness, without engaging a lot of other people into pity for your condition, or whatever might be your cherished pattern around taking ill. If a day feels like too much, then commit to just an hour to observe first your body, then your emotions, then your mind to see what's going on. Write it down if it would help you, as it did me, keep the focus on the process. Just beware of 'going mental' with it... you have to go into pure 'reporter' mode and not edit what you know, and not try and make it interesting or clever or anything else. It's just "what is."

I hope this story helps you meet your next inevitable meeting with illness with less suffering than the last time.

Some Flashes on Karma and the Ten Non-Virtuous Actions

Over the last few days, I have been listening to the two sessions dedicated to the teachings on Karma, in Ken McLeod's Then and Now podcast series. Even if you think you know what Karma is, I would highly, highly recommend you spend two hours listening to these two podcasts: TAN14 Then And Now (Class) and TAN15 Then And Now (Class).

I'm just going to sound off on some of the most mind-blowing points for me.

First, is the perspective that "cause and effect" is not an effective translation or model for how karma works. It's more of an evolutionary process, like how a seed grows into a sapling and then into a tree. The seed does not cause the tree, but by laws of nature, the seed becomes the tree. There is no morality or even ethics, really, associated with the karmic effects of our actions, words, thoughts, etc. It's simply a fact that certain actions will create more suffering for ourselves and others, and other choices in a given situation will create less suffering for ourselves and others. The point of practice is to learn to see which create the suffering and which do not, and eventually find that we 'put an end to suffering', in other words, no longer act or think in ways that will inevitably grow into something which causes more struggle.

One other key that came through to me was that most of our "non-virtuous" actions are usually reflective of an unwillingness to feel, or an avoidance, of a certain experience. I have lied so that I didn't have to feel the shame of the truth. I responded with harsh, divisive speech because I could not admit I felt overwhelmed and was having trouble coping. One exercise Ken did with his class, is to pick any of the 10 Virtuous Acts with which you have some challenges. Contemplate what experience or feeling you might have been avoiding with that action. He further pointed out that when we avoid a feeling this way, part of the effect of this is to further ingrain the avoidance pattern in our psyche, making it harder the next time to make a choice that will avoid suffering the next time.

One thing that Ken said toward the end of the second lecture struck me like lightning:

"When we take responsibility for our actions, we take responsibility for our reality."

Whoooooaaa. That is a week of meditation in itself! In reflection, I find it to be true. When I find myself in a 'victim mode' of perception, where something has been done 'to' me, I can almost always look back and what previous actions, choices, words have given rise to the situation. Quite often, it's a karmic result of my own 'non-virtuous acts.'

Suddenly I see that list of 10 non-virtuous acts and 10 virtuous acts, which have grown as a standard aspect of the Dharma teachings, are not prescriptive at all, like the Ten Commandments. These are not "Thou Shalt Nots"... they are merely, "These are the things that will cause suffering for you or for others."

I have, for a long time, had sort of a knee-jerk reaction to prescriptive morality, finding a whole chunk of my life has been to act out in opposition to that, to be free from that yoke. However, in doing that, I have caused more suffering in other areas. It's even the reason I haven't fully let go of certain addictions (doesn't even matter which one(s), does it... just insert your favorite addiction here), because they give me a kind of anti-establishment, anti-"morality" experience which I have enjoyed, in a manner of speaking, for many years. It's a way I have asserted my separation from all this mess. Gave me a sense of control that I lacked in so many other areas.

But now, as my practice deepens and widens, I am seeing where the pain is in all of it. I see how life is generally just more difficult with that addiction playing about in my reality. All kinds of forces are set in motion, forces that I did not want to see. These subtle forces all combine to create pain for myself, and for those around me. Not huge pain usually; just actions that could be just ascribed to 'being in a bad mood' or 'going through a rough period'. I let it drag on because it doesn't seem that different than how many people are in the world.

But now, I see that these behaviors not only alter my mood (which is how I was viewing it), but these moods then have ripple effects for days, and some things even grow larger with weeks, and months. They affect my relationship with my son, and my ability to function clearly in the world. Clearly, there is great cause to become as aware of one's actions and how they affect the entire system of life.

I'll end with a relevant paraphrase, again from Ken:

"Once you have thrown the pebble in the lake, there is not much you can do to stop its effects. That is the nature of the thing. However, you CAN stop throwing pebbles!"

Thank you, Ken, for making these podcasts available to the public. I hope many people take advantage of the wisdom there and relieve a little more suffering!

Afterthought: Remember, these words are just my own interpretation, and despite my best efforts, may not reflect Ken's true teaching on these things. Please listen to the podcasts if this sounds intriguing to get a complete presentation. Thanks :)

Fall Down, Wake Up!

Last week, my son celebrated his 12th birthday, and I took him and four friends to the local roller rink for some in-line skating fun. I hadn't roller skated in a long time. I'm a sedentary worker, programmer by trade, so I had some reservations about getting out in the rink myself, tempted to hide behind my laptop.

As a young person, my sibings and I went roller skating often enough that I had gotten fairly good at it. No backwards skating or anything particularly artful, but I could skate fast and at least not fall down! So my inner kid decided we would go roller-skating on this, my own son's 12th birthday.

Tentatively, I got out there just minutes after my son did, and within a short time I had regained my sea legs and remembered how to fire all those neurons in such a way that I could whiz around the rink at a decent clip, navigating the sea of children, likely the oldest person on eight wheels in the building.

Probably an hour later, after having managed to avoid causing any pain for myself or any other skater, I had that fatal moment of self-consciousness. "Wow, I haven't fallen down at all. Not bad." I found a little pride, having enjoyed some side-by-side skating with my son minutes ago. Well, no sooner had I thought that, when a lanky and careening young boy of probably nine or ten "came out of nowhere" and took us both tumbling to the ground.

What a moment.

Yes, I got mad. Well, just internally. He didn't mean to hurt me or knock me down. But it was interesting to watch the ego go off! "He interrupted my smooth flying moment! I had a perfect record until this kid came along! Watch where you're going!" Fortunately, all that came out of my mouth was, "It's okay, I'm alright," I assured him. He was mortified he had brought me down.

I've had an opportunity to reflect on this all week long, as the fall on my hip threw out my 43 year old spine and gave me a bruse the size of a walnut on my hip that took three days to make it to the surface of my skin. The pain was so bad at times, I felt like I was 80 years old. I wish I had a walker a few times.

OK, so end of story, start of contemplation. Physically falling down is one of the most interesting social/psychological moments humans can have. In that moment, all that we are in the world, all we know how to do, all the great accomplishments we might boast disappear in that long moment between when we realize we are going to fall and when we actually hit the ground. In that moment, we meet all other humans in an experience as universal as breathing or getting ill. Our core reflexes take over and our brain attempts to prevent as much bodily damage that it can.

Perhaps it is just me, but I think there's a huge emotional charge around falling down that we never talk about. In fact, falling is generally portrayed as 'funny', and physical comedians have used the pratfall since the beginning to make an audience laugh. But when real people have real falls, most of us gasp inside, and if we happen to be near them, we instinctively, reflexively reach out to help them NOT fall.

I have never seen, and don't think I could handle seeing my either of my parents fall down. It just gives me this odd, internal grief imaginging it. No, it breaks that mythic image of parental stability and coordination. Beyond just our parents, I wonder why we so rarely see 'important' people fall down: our teachers, our civic leaders, our religious figures. Yet, I imagine many of them have. But to imagine, say, Jesus falling down for any reason just seems blasphemous. As blasphemous as having to imagine one of my parents fall down (especially if I had happened to have a friend at my home at the time).

I think falling has something to do with our pride. For some reason, we all agree that falling down is Bad, and is to be avoided. If you are falling, something has "done it to you" because who would ever choose to fall down? So we have great expressions in our language like, to fall from grace, fall into a depression, take the fall for someone, fall ill, fall from power, and fallen woman, to name just a few.

But, as a dharma walker, I have to say that falling down is a great moment to wake up just a little more! It's the litmus test to see how much compassion you REALLY have. How clear your mind REALLY is. Because, in an unexpected fall (especially out in public, if you are fortunate to fall there) will show you your core feelings about yourself, about your ego and how it cares so much about its appearance of balance and grace.

The physical fall is the best, because there is no denying that it has happened, and there is more or less total loss of control in that few moments. But other 'falls' are great places for growth as well.

Like those very private moments when we 'fall short' of our own ideals, and take an action or find ourselves reacting in a way that does not reflect our wisdom. We can still cultivate compassion in those moments. Rather than beat ourselves up for being so "dharmically clumsy," we can take a breath, maybe a little smile, notice we have "fallen down" and recall that falling down is a more or less universal human experience. Not good, not bad, and not a reflection on who you really are at all. Hopefully, we learn something new. We gain a litle more coordination, like a toddler learning to walk (didn't Jesus say something about "being as little children"?). Certainly, if we still hear those all-too-familiar voices of inner critic, or that anger at one's self hammering away (or projected onto some outer conditions), it's a wonderful opportunity, really. Take that fall into contemplation/practice and explore all the ins and outs of falling down and waking up, a dharmic practice experienced by all the buddhas before us, and I'd say after as well.