The Buddha Nature of a Layperson

“He who rejects change is the architect of decay. The only human institution which rejects progress is the cemetery.” –Harold Wilson

Many, many moons ago when petrol was almost half the cost it is today, traveling for several hours on Sundays to The Zen Center was affordable.  Now that petrol is where it is today in price, such travels are outside of my budget.  It goes to say today my practice is solitary.  No Zen centers or structured sitting groups here in this small hamlet.

Traditional Buddhists will say I am not practicing properly because I do not sit on a regular basis with a teacher.  In countries that have an established and prevalent Buddhist community such a view is feasible.  I say that viewpoint is impractical in the United States.  Access to the community is limited in most places.  And for many of us it does not exist.  Many of us will practice as laypersons without formal teachings.

Besides the scarcity of others to practice with, let alone a mentor or teacher to seek guidance from, I question the authorities who want me to believe the only way to be a fully practicing Buddhist is to be someone’s student.  In one breath I hear that the act of sitting is ‘the practice’.  In another I hear to sit is enlightenment.  And then a few breaths later I hear to fully practice and be a Buddhist one must sit regularly with a teacher.

I believe the American layperson practicing Buddhism in solitude is going to change the face of Buddhism.  I see it starting a new school, a new tradition.

A Eureka Moment

“Listening to people keeps them entertained.” –Mason Cooley

I’m a fairly good listener.  That is if you believe listening is about taking in what someone is telling you and filing it away in your memory banks.  I’m an awful listener if you believe listening is about being able to decode accurately what is being said.

I’m not the brightest star in the universe when it comes to assessing when people are being candid with their words or when they are misleading with their words.  I know why this is: most deceitful people truly believe their own bullshit.  It is their sincerity in the moment that trips me up.

Lately when I ‘sit’ (new to my blog? Translation: zazen) my thoughts have been migrating towards how to become a more open listener, how to accurately process what I am listening to.  I had a moment today.  Eureka!

Detach.  Detach from how I expect the message to be decoded.  I, as the receiver, am responsible for how the message gets into my data banks.  I have mostly started with the premise people don’t want to be caught in blatant lies; therefore, I consider detailed information as primarily valid.  This is my attachment.  Believing I can ascertain fiction from truth.  I cannot.  With this realization, the feeling of naked vulnerability set in.

From AZ to BZ

“You know what charm is: a way of getting the answer 'yes' without having asked any clear question.” –Albert Camus

Oh, how true this is.

I divide my life into two phases:  before Zen (BZ) and after Zen (AZ).  During the BZ part of my life, I gravitated towards people who used charm as their social survival tool.  I didn’t see it for what it was.   I thought I had simply met someone who was as spontaneous as I was.  After some deep reflection and lots of sitting a few feet from the wall, I began to understand the difference.  They sell the figurative form as a literal structure.  Several in my life were selling it and I spent about 20 years buying it.  Sad to admit it but it’s true.

The last charmer in my life got me to buy that he needed $20 to attend an AA meeting because it was a closed meeting.  He explained to me ‘closed’ meant he had to pay in advanced for the whole month.  And each meeting was $5.  A year later I went to Al-anon meetings for a few months.  It was about the third meeting someone mentioned which meetings in town were ‘open’ and which were ‘closed’.  It had nothing to do with paying in advance and ALL meetings were donation-based.  I proceeded to tell the group about how he obviously deceived me.  They dubbed my story as the best con anyone had heard in a while.

I’m starting to become comfortable with believing he may be a pathological liar.  I don’t like thinking I’ve invited evil people into my life and the lives of my family.  However this one con was just a small drop in the bucket of cons I later discovered.  He used to sneak out of the house after I fell asleep to go drinking.  And he would take my car instead of his to go out.  (That scratch on the car I said was new, he claimed was not.)  That mega-computer he built and spent thousands of dollars for custom components was nothing but a fancy shell with cheap, dated technology.  He told me his manager cut his hours at work and he would file for unemployment.  Supposedly his claim was denied and he filed an appeal.  And supposedly he went to a hearing.  I even received an elaborate string of texts telling me of everything talked about with the referee.  Later I found out he was fired for missing work and did not qualify for unemployment.  (Though I was paying his bills with the understanding the payment for back benefits would be deposited any day now.) 

These are just a few of the instances when I bought his fiction later to find out he was lying.  I can guess he never went to the hospital to be with his mother.  I bet dimes to doughnuts that his cousin wasn’t severely beaten outside a bar.  (I questioned why the incident wasn’t in the news.  He said thy family wouldn’t let the paper print it.)  I’m cynical about his tales of abuse.  I’m sure I’ll never know fully the extent of his deceit, nor will I entirely comprehend the damage I allowed to occur by buying his bullshit. 

Sometimes the worst cons we experience are self-imposed.  We do it to ourselves.  So I sit and stare at a wall.  And I celebrate being in the AZ part of my life.  Time to shed my own illusions.