Mind, karma, etc
Feb. 27th, 2012 09:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
foliumnondefluetThe Buddha's analysis of the human condition was that it is unsatisfactory; that craving and misunderstanding cause this suffering; that it can be ended; and that a path of emotional and cognitive realignment leads to such liberation. These truths are less a statement of fact than a call to act. We are called to understand fully that ordinary life is suffering; cease from the causes of suffering; realize liberation; and cultivate the path. Throughout, the emphasis is on human experience, and the path to liberation from suffering is seen as attainable only by understanding experience and the ways to improve it. Buddhism does not propose beliefs of the supernatural or transcendent, but offers a practice: the cultivation of cognitive, emotional, and physical practices to bring about change.
The Buddha points both to cognitive and emotional causes of suffering. The emotional cause is desire and its negative opposite, aversion. The cognitive cause is ignorance of the way things truly occur, or of three marks of existence: that all things are unsatisfactory, impermanent, and without essential self.
The third mark of existence, that of nonself, describes dependent origination, the central philosophy of Buddhism which states that all phenomena, including persons, are constructed and dependent upon a network of causes and conditions. The other face of dependent origination is the doctrine of emptiness. All phenomena, including persons, are empty of any unchanging, isolated essence because of this very dependence upon a network of causes and conditions from which they cannot be separated.
Mind
Mind has no form. It is not a material organ found somewhere in the brain. Nor is it reducible to something physical, like the nervous system or the electrochemical processes that describe neurological functions. Mind is also not merely an abstract metaphysical entity that is the fancy of philosophers. From the Buddhist point of view, the phenomenon translated as "mind" is not an entity at all. Rather, the word "mind" refers to the mental activity - both conscious and unconscious -- that occurs based on an individual's brain, nervous system, and the physiological processes of the two.
Further, the term "mind" does not refer to the agent of mental activity. Nor does the word refer to a tool that we use to comprehend a sight, to think a thought, or to feel an emotion. The word "mind" denotes only mental activity itself, such as seeing, thinking, or feeling something. It even includes subtle mental activity while asleep.
When we regard our mind as a "thing" inside us, we often project a fixed identity onto it. We imagine, for example, that our mind is incapable of feeling anything or of handling the emotions that overwhelm it. Identifying with our mind, we judge ourselves as inadequate or we make excuses. We insist that others accept us because this is the way that we are. If, instead, we view our mind as mental activity, we are more open to the fact that, with a change of circumstances, our experiences change. As we recognize and enhance the positive factors that already accompany our mental activity, we naturally become more balanced in our sensitivity.
When we take this approach, we see that sensitivity does not depend on the competence or worthiness of ourselves as a person. Nor is it the activity of some fixed entity in our head. Therefore, blaming our mind or ourselves for being insensitive or hypersensitive is pointless. Without self-recrimination, we need simply to adjust the attentiveness and responsiveness that accompany our mental activity during any event.
According to the self-voidness position, as explained by the Gelug tradition, the deepest fact of reality is that everything exists devoid of fantasized, impossible ways. Unless we are an enlightened being, however, our mind automatically creates a deceptive appearance of how our friend exists. It then mixes an appearance of a mode of existence that does not correspond with reality with one that does.
In other words, our mind fabricates an appearance of an impossible mode of existence- for example of our friend as a truly ridiculous person. It then projects it onto the appearance of our friend existing as he or she actually does-as simply a person who is presently annoyed with us due to causes and circumstances. When we believe that our projected fantasy refers to something real and that our friend actually exists in the way our mind makes him or her deceptively appear, we may overreact. Therefore, we need to employ the third criterion to validate the mode of existence that we perceive.
Let us examine this point more closely. The confusing appearance our mind produces when we see the sight of our friend's frowning face is that he or she is really an angry and ridiculous person. Our friend appears to be someone who always becomes furious at the most trivial things and who is hopeless and will never change. It does not appear as though we are simply correctly labeling the expression we see as signifying that our friend is now upset. Nor does it simply appear that our friend as presently upset is merely what this label signifies based on the various aspects of his or her facial expression and on various causes and circumstances. Instead, it appears as though we can point to some inherent feature in our friend that is giving him or her the seemingly concrete identity of a "really angry and ridiculous person," for example a permanent character flaw.
Suppose our friend actually existed with some inherent findable feature that rendered him or her a really angry person. It would make our friend upset continuously, forever, despite what might happen or what we might do. This is preposterous. No matter how angry or upset someone might presently be, no one exists inherently like that.
Therefore, if our confused mind produces an appearance of our friend as inherently immature-which provokes our seeing him or her with disapproval, impatience, and anger-what we perceive is invalidated by a mind that correctly sees self-voidness. Such an appearance does not refer to anything real. Though our friend may be upset with us now and may be acting immaturely, no one exists as an inherently and incorrigibly oversensitive person. No one exists with some permanent flaw making him or her, when upset with anger, always hold an eternal grudge. People's upset and immature behavior arises dependently on causes and circumstances. When we change the variables affecting the situation, the person's behavior also changes.
The object and mind in the experience seem split into two opposing forces. The upset face seems to be some truly annoying thing "out there," which we, the innocent bystander "in here," have had the misfortune to see. We identify the appearing object as a concrete "you" and the mind perceiving it as a concrete "me," confronting each other. Believing this appearance to correspond to reality, we feel we cannot relate to our friend. We think that he or she is a truly hopeless person who is always angry and upset. We also feel sorry for ourselves as a truly innocent victim who is forever unjustly tormented by this ridiculous person. Totally disgusted with these confrontations, we decide never to see our friend again.
If we check this appearance of two solidly opposing factions, one "in here" and the other "out there," we realize that it does not conform to reality. All that has occurred in the incident was the arising of an experience-the seeing of a sight-and this sight appearing as that of our friend's upset face. Of course, this sight has arisen dependently on our friend, our mind, and our eyes. Nevertheless, if we are to respond in a balanced and sensitive manner, we need to understand that experience is not composed of some tragic hero facing the onslaught of overwhelming forces sent by the gods. Such a view of experience is a total fantasy.
Both grasping at mental activity's natural facets for security and fearing them as a threat arise from projecting and believing in dualistic and triplistic appearances. Deconstructing these confusing appearances leaves us with merely the experience of these natural functions. Similarly, disturbing emotions also arise from projecting and believing in deceptive appearances, especially dualistic ones. Under the influence of these emotions, we become insensitive or hypersensitive.
Longing desire is the obsession to possess someone or something, while clinging attachment is the nervous insistence not to let go once we possess the person or thing. Both are based on the dualistic appearance of (1) a seemingly concrete "me" who cannot live without having some person or object and (2) a seemingly concrete "you" or object that could make me secure if I only had it or if I never let it go.
We need to see through the deceptive appearance fueling these disturbing emotions. Denying our ability to cope on our own, we are exaggerating the qualities of someone or something. Fooled by this, we become infatuated. When we deconstruct the appearance by understanding that it does not refer to anything real, we relax the grip of our insecurity. Underlying our inflation of the person, the group, or the object into someone or something truly special, we find individualizing awareness. We merely specified a particular person, organization, or thing. Only when we overlay that specifying with a dualistic appearance and concrete identities do we experience ourselves as inherently deprived and the person, group, or object as inherently alluring.
Karma
Karma literally means action. We first take an intent and follow it up with action in the form of thought, speaking to others, planning and execution. According to the Theory of Karma - every action taken to achieve a result or profit (fruit of action) leaves a trace or a karmic residue behind it. It is this residue that keeps accumulating and takes away ones well being and freedom. Only a person who acts to produce results without worrying about profit (Nishkama Karma or Niskarma) does not accumulate such a Karmic residue. Such action normally comes out of love or pure passion.
Quoting from the Bhagavad Gita, Lord Krishna says: "I shall now describe nishkama karma yoga, the path of selfless action. You have a right to perform your natural prescribed duties, but you are not entitled to any fruits of that action. You should neither act with desire to enjoy the fruits of your work, nor, as a result, should you be attached to neglecting your duties."
So how does Karmic residue work? Well, according to the theory any action whose motive is other than love or passion begins a process of psychological compensation which is difficult to complete. For example, if we helped somebody when we did not want to, then no amount of compensation helps later as we always feel incomplete. Any incomplete action somehow begins to consume a part of our free attention on how to get rewarded. During our journey of life we accumulate considerable Karmic residue and this depletes our free attention significantly. Lack of free attention means lack of intelligence. Many of the bad situations we get into in life are as a result of a lack of intelligence and attention.
Most teachings say that for common mortals, having an involvement with Karma is an unavoidable part of day-to-day living. However, in light of the Hindu philosophical school of Vedanta, as well as Gautama Buddha's teachings, one is advised to either avoid, control or become mindful of the effects of desires and aversions as a way to moderate or change one's karma (or, more accurately, one's karmic results).
Some people have problems with the teaching on karma, often of what exactly the Buddha is asking them to believe in when asking them to have conviction in karma.
* First, action really is happening -- it's not an illusion.
* Second, you really are responsible for your actions. There's no outside force like the stars or some good or evil being acting through you. When you're conscious, you're the one who decides what to do.
* Third, your actions have results -- you're not just writing on the water -- and those results can be good or bad depending on the quality of the intention behind the act.
Expectations
Expectations are almost always the result of what in Buddhism is called "wanting mind." This wanting mind is driven by desire, aversion, and anxiety; it creates an illusion of solidity and control in a world that is constantly changing and unfolds independently of how we believe it should. Knowing this, how do you proceed? How can you free yourself from expectations? In mindfulness meditation, you always start with what is true in the present moment. You use discernment to know what is true, but you do not fall into judgment, which is yet another form of expectation and one of the most tyrannical.
One distinction is critical for you to understand if you are to work with expectations: the difference between expectations and possibilities. Expectations assume a certain result and are future-based. They actually narrow your options, retard your imagination, and blind you to possibilities. They create pressure in your life and hold your present sense of well-being hostage to a future that may or may not happen. Expectations create rigidity in your life and cause you to react impulsively to any perceived threat to that future you believe you deserve.
In contrast to expectations, possibilities are based in the present moment, where you're alive to the mystery of life. You live as fully as you can in the present moment based on your values, which reflect your preferences for the future, but you do not assume that the future will come to pass, because you realize that the future is unknown. Being open to possibilities acknowledges that what you may think you want changes with time, or that there is another future that will bring you equal or more happiness, or that the future may turn bleak, or that you may die before any future can unfold. Real joy, then, is that which is available to you right now.
Your well-being is not contingent on the future. Your mind is open and inspired in this moment. You therefore have more access to imagination and intuition. Your mind is clear and less reactive, and you make better decisions. You respond rather than react to life as it unfolds.
This ability to respond to change rather than react to it is the primary distinction I have observed between those who feel free and those who are caught in the suffering of life. You may often find yourself reacting to the behavior of others or to changes in your circumstances and never realize it is because you were expecting others or your life to be a certain way. When you react this way, you are opting not for the mind of possibility but for the mind of expectation, and you are left disappointed, hurt, lost, angry, or defeated.
In freeing yourself from expectations, you are likely to encounter a number of challenges. When you are not real with yourself, it is impossible to be authentic with others. When you are in denial of the existence of your expectations, you limit the possibility of actively participating in the truth of your life in every moment and preclude accessing the power of the love of those close to you.
Do you see how this can apply to your own life? It is not that you must avoid making plans or moving toward goals; it is that you don't become defined by those expectations or attached to the outcome.
Can you feel the freedom that exists in being able to respond rather than react when life goes other than how you had planned? It doesn't mean that you won't unconsciously create expectations over and over again—no one is expecting you to be perfect (which in itself is just another expectation!). Until you are enlightened, you will repeatedly fall into expectations. But the reason to practice being mindful of expectations and compassionate with yourself when you feel yourself caught in them is so that you acquire the skill to let go of them. You may have expectations, but you are not tyrannized by them. This is freedom from expectations. When you realize you are creating expectations or are caught in them, you see them for the suffering they represent and you just start over in that very moment, as best as you are able.
The Buddha continually warned us not to be attached to any specific outcome, yet he also stressed the importance of making an effort and sacrifices, of living a life of moral discipline. Right effort is part of his eightfold path. The difference is in what you control. You have the power to choose your level of effort; you can learn from experience how to improve it and how to be balanced in what is skillful and what is not. But you cannot control the result of your actions. As painful as it is to admit, oftentimes you cannot even know if the results are truly positive or negative just because initially they appear to be one or the other.
To truly be in the moment, to not be defined by expectation, requires mindful clarity; a heart conditioned by love, compassion, and empathetic joy for others; and equanimity that allows you to receive life however it unfolds. This may seem like an inconceivable challenge, but it can be your goal, your beacon through the fog of your life. Most important, it can inspire and orient you in how to live in the moment. You simply lay aside your expectations as best as you are able.
You may be surprised when you discover how much choice you have in letting go of expectations. As you have seen, there is nothing to be gained from a mind filled with expectation. But there is much to be gained by living out of your values with real effort and discipline. When you do this, you are showing up for what you value and discovering a sense of joy and ease that is independent of the conditions in your life.
---
There is the dumbed-down version of karma, "do bad things and bad things will happen to you someday" but I don't care much about that, actually I hate how it's used to justify suffering with "you did evil in a past life". It also implies that some acts are inherently evil, which is nonsense without absolute morality. What interests me about the theory is how it might be used to minimise "accumulating karmic residue" - supposedly by not being attached to the outcome of our actions (which is completely separate from any "moral" considerations).
But in practice, it is very hard not to be attached to emotions. For me at least - when I go on a diet, I desire to improve my body, when I take a job interview, I desire to be hired, when I enter a relationship, I desire the things that tend to come with a relationship. I invest effort (eg to learn a certain user interface) based on certain expectations (eg that the user interface will not change). Because expectations are usually not based on reality, they almost invite disappointment. But trying to force a specific outcome seems to be almost ingrained - it's why I do things. I go to work because I expect to be paid. If I lend you money, I expect to be paid back. If, despite all my devotion, the girl dumps me for another guy, I feel betrayed, even though objectively this is unreasonable.
The betrayal is in the disappointment of my expectations. But right now I don't see how I can avoid forming expectations; they are what motivates me to actions. And neither do I see how I could avoid feeling bad about disappointment; without emotional involvement, the expectations would not be very motivating. In the absence of an absolute moral code to dictate every action, what other motivation can there be than that you desire something? Do we just passively accept whatever the world throws our way?
I think it is sometimes possible to do something simply out of love, or because it is "right", without specific expectations, but I fear one must be a Buddha to be able to do this consistently... In practice, when relationship troubles arise, I try to work on them because it *does* make a difference to me whether the relationship lives or dies. But strictly speaking, that means I am attached to an expected outcome that may turn out to be at odds with reality, and I am "accumulating karmic residue" that will cause me grief later on. I can try not to be devastated by failure, but some upset seems inevitable by the mere fact of preferring one outcome over another?
And I fear sometimes that the alternative to attachments will be dispassionate passiveness or suicidal nihilism (after all, if nothing matters, why bother?).
Thinking more about this, I guess one way to look at "expectation" is a deliberate, explicit linking of a future emotional state to an (as yet unrealised) external circumstance.
The Buddha points both to cognitive and emotional causes of suffering. The emotional cause is desire and its negative opposite, aversion. The cognitive cause is ignorance of the way things truly occur, or of three marks of existence: that all things are unsatisfactory, impermanent, and without essential self.
The third mark of existence, that of nonself, describes dependent origination, the central philosophy of Buddhism which states that all phenomena, including persons, are constructed and dependent upon a network of causes and conditions. The other face of dependent origination is the doctrine of emptiness. All phenomena, including persons, are empty of any unchanging, isolated essence because of this very dependence upon a network of causes and conditions from which they cannot be separated.
Mind
Mind has no form. It is not a material organ found somewhere in the brain. Nor is it reducible to something physical, like the nervous system or the electrochemical processes that describe neurological functions. Mind is also not merely an abstract metaphysical entity that is the fancy of philosophers. From the Buddhist point of view, the phenomenon translated as "mind" is not an entity at all. Rather, the word "mind" refers to the mental activity - both conscious and unconscious -- that occurs based on an individual's brain, nervous system, and the physiological processes of the two.
Further, the term "mind" does not refer to the agent of mental activity. Nor does the word refer to a tool that we use to comprehend a sight, to think a thought, or to feel an emotion. The word "mind" denotes only mental activity itself, such as seeing, thinking, or feeling something. It even includes subtle mental activity while asleep.
When we regard our mind as a "thing" inside us, we often project a fixed identity onto it. We imagine, for example, that our mind is incapable of feeling anything or of handling the emotions that overwhelm it. Identifying with our mind, we judge ourselves as inadequate or we make excuses. We insist that others accept us because this is the way that we are. If, instead, we view our mind as mental activity, we are more open to the fact that, with a change of circumstances, our experiences change. As we recognize and enhance the positive factors that already accompany our mental activity, we naturally become more balanced in our sensitivity.
When we take this approach, we see that sensitivity does not depend on the competence or worthiness of ourselves as a person. Nor is it the activity of some fixed entity in our head. Therefore, blaming our mind or ourselves for being insensitive or hypersensitive is pointless. Without self-recrimination, we need simply to adjust the attentiveness and responsiveness that accompany our mental activity during any event.
According to the self-voidness position, as explained by the Gelug tradition, the deepest fact of reality is that everything exists devoid of fantasized, impossible ways. Unless we are an enlightened being, however, our mind automatically creates a deceptive appearance of how our friend exists. It then mixes an appearance of a mode of existence that does not correspond with reality with one that does.
In other words, our mind fabricates an appearance of an impossible mode of existence- for example of our friend as a truly ridiculous person. It then projects it onto the appearance of our friend existing as he or she actually does-as simply a person who is presently annoyed with us due to causes and circumstances. When we believe that our projected fantasy refers to something real and that our friend actually exists in the way our mind makes him or her deceptively appear, we may overreact. Therefore, we need to employ the third criterion to validate the mode of existence that we perceive.
Let us examine this point more closely. The confusing appearance our mind produces when we see the sight of our friend's frowning face is that he or she is really an angry and ridiculous person. Our friend appears to be someone who always becomes furious at the most trivial things and who is hopeless and will never change. It does not appear as though we are simply correctly labeling the expression we see as signifying that our friend is now upset. Nor does it simply appear that our friend as presently upset is merely what this label signifies based on the various aspects of his or her facial expression and on various causes and circumstances. Instead, it appears as though we can point to some inherent feature in our friend that is giving him or her the seemingly concrete identity of a "really angry and ridiculous person," for example a permanent character flaw.
Suppose our friend actually existed with some inherent findable feature that rendered him or her a really angry person. It would make our friend upset continuously, forever, despite what might happen or what we might do. This is preposterous. No matter how angry or upset someone might presently be, no one exists inherently like that.
Therefore, if our confused mind produces an appearance of our friend as inherently immature-which provokes our seeing him or her with disapproval, impatience, and anger-what we perceive is invalidated by a mind that correctly sees self-voidness. Such an appearance does not refer to anything real. Though our friend may be upset with us now and may be acting immaturely, no one exists as an inherently and incorrigibly oversensitive person. No one exists with some permanent flaw making him or her, when upset with anger, always hold an eternal grudge. People's upset and immature behavior arises dependently on causes and circumstances. When we change the variables affecting the situation, the person's behavior also changes.
The object and mind in the experience seem split into two opposing forces. The upset face seems to be some truly annoying thing "out there," which we, the innocent bystander "in here," have had the misfortune to see. We identify the appearing object as a concrete "you" and the mind perceiving it as a concrete "me," confronting each other. Believing this appearance to correspond to reality, we feel we cannot relate to our friend. We think that he or she is a truly hopeless person who is always angry and upset. We also feel sorry for ourselves as a truly innocent victim who is forever unjustly tormented by this ridiculous person. Totally disgusted with these confrontations, we decide never to see our friend again.
If we check this appearance of two solidly opposing factions, one "in here" and the other "out there," we realize that it does not conform to reality. All that has occurred in the incident was the arising of an experience-the seeing of a sight-and this sight appearing as that of our friend's upset face. Of course, this sight has arisen dependently on our friend, our mind, and our eyes. Nevertheless, if we are to respond in a balanced and sensitive manner, we need to understand that experience is not composed of some tragic hero facing the onslaught of overwhelming forces sent by the gods. Such a view of experience is a total fantasy.
Both grasping at mental activity's natural facets for security and fearing them as a threat arise from projecting and believing in dualistic and triplistic appearances. Deconstructing these confusing appearances leaves us with merely the experience of these natural functions. Similarly, disturbing emotions also arise from projecting and believing in deceptive appearances, especially dualistic ones. Under the influence of these emotions, we become insensitive or hypersensitive.
Longing desire is the obsession to possess someone or something, while clinging attachment is the nervous insistence not to let go once we possess the person or thing. Both are based on the dualistic appearance of (1) a seemingly concrete "me" who cannot live without having some person or object and (2) a seemingly concrete "you" or object that could make me secure if I only had it or if I never let it go.
We need to see through the deceptive appearance fueling these disturbing emotions. Denying our ability to cope on our own, we are exaggerating the qualities of someone or something. Fooled by this, we become infatuated. When we deconstruct the appearance by understanding that it does not refer to anything real, we relax the grip of our insecurity. Underlying our inflation of the person, the group, or the object into someone or something truly special, we find individualizing awareness. We merely specified a particular person, organization, or thing. Only when we overlay that specifying with a dualistic appearance and concrete identities do we experience ourselves as inherently deprived and the person, group, or object as inherently alluring.
Karma
Karma literally means action. We first take an intent and follow it up with action in the form of thought, speaking to others, planning and execution. According to the Theory of Karma - every action taken to achieve a result or profit (fruit of action) leaves a trace or a karmic residue behind it. It is this residue that keeps accumulating and takes away ones well being and freedom. Only a person who acts to produce results without worrying about profit (Nishkama Karma or Niskarma) does not accumulate such a Karmic residue. Such action normally comes out of love or pure passion.
Quoting from the Bhagavad Gita, Lord Krishna says: "I shall now describe nishkama karma yoga, the path of selfless action. You have a right to perform your natural prescribed duties, but you are not entitled to any fruits of that action. You should neither act with desire to enjoy the fruits of your work, nor, as a result, should you be attached to neglecting your duties."
So how does Karmic residue work? Well, according to the theory any action whose motive is other than love or passion begins a process of psychological compensation which is difficult to complete. For example, if we helped somebody when we did not want to, then no amount of compensation helps later as we always feel incomplete. Any incomplete action somehow begins to consume a part of our free attention on how to get rewarded. During our journey of life we accumulate considerable Karmic residue and this depletes our free attention significantly. Lack of free attention means lack of intelligence. Many of the bad situations we get into in life are as a result of a lack of intelligence and attention.
Most teachings say that for common mortals, having an involvement with Karma is an unavoidable part of day-to-day living. However, in light of the Hindu philosophical school of Vedanta, as well as Gautama Buddha's teachings, one is advised to either avoid, control or become mindful of the effects of desires and aversions as a way to moderate or change one's karma (or, more accurately, one's karmic results).
Some people have problems with the teaching on karma, often of what exactly the Buddha is asking them to believe in when asking them to have conviction in karma.
* First, action really is happening -- it's not an illusion.
* Second, you really are responsible for your actions. There's no outside force like the stars or some good or evil being acting through you. When you're conscious, you're the one who decides what to do.
* Third, your actions have results -- you're not just writing on the water -- and those results can be good or bad depending on the quality of the intention behind the act.
Expectations
Expectations are almost always the result of what in Buddhism is called "wanting mind." This wanting mind is driven by desire, aversion, and anxiety; it creates an illusion of solidity and control in a world that is constantly changing and unfolds independently of how we believe it should. Knowing this, how do you proceed? How can you free yourself from expectations? In mindfulness meditation, you always start with what is true in the present moment. You use discernment to know what is true, but you do not fall into judgment, which is yet another form of expectation and one of the most tyrannical.
One distinction is critical for you to understand if you are to work with expectations: the difference between expectations and possibilities. Expectations assume a certain result and are future-based. They actually narrow your options, retard your imagination, and blind you to possibilities. They create pressure in your life and hold your present sense of well-being hostage to a future that may or may not happen. Expectations create rigidity in your life and cause you to react impulsively to any perceived threat to that future you believe you deserve.
In contrast to expectations, possibilities are based in the present moment, where you're alive to the mystery of life. You live as fully as you can in the present moment based on your values, which reflect your preferences for the future, but you do not assume that the future will come to pass, because you realize that the future is unknown. Being open to possibilities acknowledges that what you may think you want changes with time, or that there is another future that will bring you equal or more happiness, or that the future may turn bleak, or that you may die before any future can unfold. Real joy, then, is that which is available to you right now.
Your well-being is not contingent on the future. Your mind is open and inspired in this moment. You therefore have more access to imagination and intuition. Your mind is clear and less reactive, and you make better decisions. You respond rather than react to life as it unfolds.
This ability to respond to change rather than react to it is the primary distinction I have observed between those who feel free and those who are caught in the suffering of life. You may often find yourself reacting to the behavior of others or to changes in your circumstances and never realize it is because you were expecting others or your life to be a certain way. When you react this way, you are opting not for the mind of possibility but for the mind of expectation, and you are left disappointed, hurt, lost, angry, or defeated.
In freeing yourself from expectations, you are likely to encounter a number of challenges. When you are not real with yourself, it is impossible to be authentic with others. When you are in denial of the existence of your expectations, you limit the possibility of actively participating in the truth of your life in every moment and preclude accessing the power of the love of those close to you.
Do you see how this can apply to your own life? It is not that you must avoid making plans or moving toward goals; it is that you don't become defined by those expectations or attached to the outcome.
Can you feel the freedom that exists in being able to respond rather than react when life goes other than how you had planned? It doesn't mean that you won't unconsciously create expectations over and over again—no one is expecting you to be perfect (which in itself is just another expectation!). Until you are enlightened, you will repeatedly fall into expectations. But the reason to practice being mindful of expectations and compassionate with yourself when you feel yourself caught in them is so that you acquire the skill to let go of them. You may have expectations, but you are not tyrannized by them. This is freedom from expectations. When you realize you are creating expectations or are caught in them, you see them for the suffering they represent and you just start over in that very moment, as best as you are able.
The Buddha continually warned us not to be attached to any specific outcome, yet he also stressed the importance of making an effort and sacrifices, of living a life of moral discipline. Right effort is part of his eightfold path. The difference is in what you control. You have the power to choose your level of effort; you can learn from experience how to improve it and how to be balanced in what is skillful and what is not. But you cannot control the result of your actions. As painful as it is to admit, oftentimes you cannot even know if the results are truly positive or negative just because initially they appear to be one or the other.
To truly be in the moment, to not be defined by expectation, requires mindful clarity; a heart conditioned by love, compassion, and empathetic joy for others; and equanimity that allows you to receive life however it unfolds. This may seem like an inconceivable challenge, but it can be your goal, your beacon through the fog of your life. Most important, it can inspire and orient you in how to live in the moment. You simply lay aside your expectations as best as you are able.
You may be surprised when you discover how much choice you have in letting go of expectations. As you have seen, there is nothing to be gained from a mind filled with expectation. But there is much to be gained by living out of your values with real effort and discipline. When you do this, you are showing up for what you value and discovering a sense of joy and ease that is independent of the conditions in your life.
---
There is the dumbed-down version of karma, "do bad things and bad things will happen to you someday" but I don't care much about that, actually I hate how it's used to justify suffering with "you did evil in a past life". It also implies that some acts are inherently evil, which is nonsense without absolute morality. What interests me about the theory is how it might be used to minimise "accumulating karmic residue" - supposedly by not being attached to the outcome of our actions (which is completely separate from any "moral" considerations).
But in practice, it is very hard not to be attached to emotions. For me at least - when I go on a diet, I desire to improve my body, when I take a job interview, I desire to be hired, when I enter a relationship, I desire the things that tend to come with a relationship. I invest effort (eg to learn a certain user interface) based on certain expectations (eg that the user interface will not change). Because expectations are usually not based on reality, they almost invite disappointment. But trying to force a specific outcome seems to be almost ingrained - it's why I do things. I go to work because I expect to be paid. If I lend you money, I expect to be paid back. If, despite all my devotion, the girl dumps me for another guy, I feel betrayed, even though objectively this is unreasonable.
The betrayal is in the disappointment of my expectations. But right now I don't see how I can avoid forming expectations; they are what motivates me to actions. And neither do I see how I could avoid feeling bad about disappointment; without emotional involvement, the expectations would not be very motivating. In the absence of an absolute moral code to dictate every action, what other motivation can there be than that you desire something? Do we just passively accept whatever the world throws our way?
I think it is sometimes possible to do something simply out of love, or because it is "right", without specific expectations, but I fear one must be a Buddha to be able to do this consistently... In practice, when relationship troubles arise, I try to work on them because it *does* make a difference to me whether the relationship lives or dies. But strictly speaking, that means I am attached to an expected outcome that may turn out to be at odds with reality, and I am "accumulating karmic residue" that will cause me grief later on. I can try not to be devastated by failure, but some upset seems inevitable by the mere fact of preferring one outcome over another?
And I fear sometimes that the alternative to attachments will be dispassionate passiveness or suicidal nihilism (after all, if nothing matters, why bother?).
Thinking more about this, I guess one way to look at "expectation" is a deliberate, explicit linking of a future emotional state to an (as yet unrealised) external circumstance.
no subject
Date: 2012-02-27 10:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-28 06:07 am (UTC)