The Authentic Life (18 page)

“H
OW
I
S
I
T
S
UPPOSED
TO
B
E
?”

This question is pivotal to clarifying where we're caught in unconscious expectations. Often when we're experiencing emotional distress, there are deeply believed thoughts on board of which we're not aware. Some of these thoughts are in the form of assumptions and expectations that are so much a part of our mental makeup that we are literally blind to them.

Asking “How is it supposed to be?” is similar to asking the basic practice question “What is my most believed thought?”
But it differs in being more directed and specific. It asks us to question our particular expectation in a particular situation. For example, if we are angry at how we are being treated but still somewhat confused about what we're feeling, asking “How is it supposed to be?” can point us directly to the expectation/belief “People should appreciate me.” This discovery will allow us to move more quickly from the surface reaction of anger to the underlying hurt that was previously not recognized. Once we're aware of the thought component of our emotional reaction (our expectation), we will be less likely to get caught up in the story of anger and blame and more able to be present with our experience. As long as the story line is running, it is extremely difficult to extricate ourselves from our emotional reactions, because the story keeps the emotion locked in place.

Asking “How is it supposed to be?” can become even more directed when dealing with relationship issues. For example, the question can be refined to, “How is he/she supposed to be?” We always have expectations of how people are supposed to be. This is true even in our closest relationships, and often we're totally unaware of what these expectations are. Yet whenever we have an emotional reaction, we can be sure that we're reacting, at least in part, from our unfulfilled expectations. For example, we expect others to be appreciative, kind, supportive, attentive, affectionate, and on and on. Then, when we don't get what we want, we react with disappointment, and until we uncover the source of this disappointment, we will fester in anger or resentment.

Interestingly, as we clarify our expectations of others in relationships, we can go even deeper and uncover our own hidden agendas, by asking, “How am
I
supposed to be?” Every time we have an expectation of how another person is supposed to be, it is rooted in an expectation of how
we
would like to feel. For
example, we may want someone to be supportive so that we can feel secure. Or we want someone to be attentive so that we can feel that we count. Or we want someone to be affectionate so that we can feel loved. Surprisingly, we're often unaware of our most basic motivations. But asking the question is a direct and very specific way of clarifying where we're caught in our own blind agendas.

R
EFRAIN FROM
B
LAMING

One of the stickiest areas of spiritual practice is relationships, and the single most important precept in working through relationship issues is “Refrain from blaming.” When our expectations aren't met and we experience disappointment, instead of looking inward, we will often focus on blaming the other person. Blaming is very seductive, since it gives us a feeling of control and power. This is reinforced by the feeling of certitude, the feeling of being right, which explains why blaming is such a common pattern. Yet being caught in this pattern is the essence of living inauthentically—believing our stories and identifying with the smallest part of ourselves.

Refraining from blaming is very difficult, in part because we love the juicy feeling of being right. Perhaps equally important, blaming allows us to avoid experiencing the feelings that we don't want to feel, such as hurt, sadness, and fear. When we are disappointed in our relationships, these deeper feelings will automatically be triggered—the fear of being unworthy, the fear of being alone, the fear of rejection, the fear of being hurt again, the fear of being controlled, or the fear of the loss of safety. We have a natural aversion to feeling these fears, so we automatically move into blaming. When blaming takes over, the feelings are
pushed down out of awareness, where we don't have to feel them.

When we understand this whole dynamic, of how blaming allows us to avoid dealing with what's truly going on, we are more motivated to follow the pivotal dictate “Refrain from blaming.” Sometimes, when the impulse to blame is particularly strong, we may first have to invoke the instruction “Don't go there!” This will allow us to break the cycle of addictive thinking that often accompanies self-righteousness and blaming. When I work with students who are caught in blaming, I strongly discourage them from focusing on the other person. The teaching is to keep coming back to one's own experience, to allow ourselves to feel the hurt and fear that are so often right under the hard protective veneer of blaming. What's interesting is that when we can refrain from blaming and from being right, we will often discover what part we ourselves have played in the relationship difficulty. The more honest we are in being present with our own experience, the more we will realize that no one is totally blameless.

“B
ECOME
P
RESENT
AS
O
FTEN AS
P
OSSIBLE
”
AND
“R
EMAIN
P
RESENT AS
L
ONG AS
P
OSSIBLE
”

Being present is the essence of what it means to wake up and live authentically. This phrase reminds us how important it is to make efforts to be present, not just when we're meditating but throughout the day as well. It also reminds us how important the quality of perseverance is—the ability to make efforts to be aware, regardless of how we're feeling in the moment and regardless of the success of our efforts. Only with perseverance can we overcome the inevitable forces of resistance.

In order to become present as often as possible, it's helpful to understand what, specifically, we're being present to; otherwise, this aphorism will be too general to be of actual use. First, we become present to the breath and the body, which means to physically feel the specific sensations involved in breathing, as well as the sensations and energy throughout the body. Second, we become present to our mind and our emotions, which means knowing, specifically, what we're thinking and believing, and also knowing what we're feeling emotionally. This includes actually
feeling
our emotions in the body. Third, we become present to the environment around us—to whatever is outside of the skin boundary, such as sounds, air, light, and so on. Being present to the environment is particularly important in helping us get beyond the narrow sense of being a separate “Me.” Last, we become present to a gestalt sense of the moment, where the whole of our experience is more than the sum of our sensations, thoughts, and emotions.

Becoming present as often as possible does not require that we be sitting in meditation. We can take many brief “pauses in time” throughout the day, where we may wake up to reality for just a few breaths at a time. We can be driving, walking, sitting at our desk, cooking, or even having a conversation with someone. Some people set an alarm on their watch to go off periodically to wake them up to the moment. Others place Post-its in conspicuous places. The point is that we do whatever we have to, even in small doses, to become present as often as possible.

Part of being present for as long as possible requires continuing to study what gets in the way of being awake. We have to observe all of our ways of resisting the present moment, including all of our detours and escapes, such as analyzing, judging, blaming, and our endless diversions. As we observe this process—
the struggle between the “Yes, I want to be present” and the “No, I want to stay asleep”—the scales gradually begin to tip from the no to the yes, and our ability to stay present becomes more natural. The longer we can stay present, the more we're able to experience an authentic life of genuine happiness.

PART FOUR

Awakening the Heart

16

The Bigger Picture

I
once heard a dying man ask, “What is the point of this miserable life?” The question itself reflects the unfortunate consequences of seeing life as miserable. A major problem for most of us, in life as well as in practice, is that our view is so myopic, so shortsighted, that we miss the bigger point. On the animal level, the point is simply to live, to survive. Beyond survival, however, the bigger point is to live as authentically as possible. Why? Because it's our nature to do so. Our true nature strives to reveal itself, like an acorn strives to become an oak. This is why our deepest satisfaction is to become who we truly are.

However, we usually go from one thing to another, often only seeing what's right in front of us. Much of the day we're lost in or identified with whatever we're doing, rather than being actually aware of who we are and what we're doing with our life. And often, what we focus on is based primarily on wanting to be comfortable or secure in some way. We can spend a lot of our energy trying to fortify a particular self-image, such as being nice, or competent, or helpful. We spend still more time and
energy following our usual strategies, such as trying to please others in order to gain approval, or trying to prove our worth, or trying to gain control to ward off chaos. These strategies are always based in fear, and when we devote our energy to fortifying these self-images and pursuing our usual strategies, that energy isn't available for what helps us live more authentically, more awake.

What I'm describing, of course, is the basic human predicament—that in striving to be comfortable and secure, we are cut off from awareness of our true nature. In contrast to this, it's possible to have a particular experience of presence and a clearer sense of who we really are and what our life is actually about. But what's remarkable is how seldom this experience occurs; and as a consequence, our life stays very small and, most often, perplexing to us. The question, “What is this life really about?” may sound philosophical, but unless we ask this question over and over, unless we look beyond what makes us comfortable and secure, our life will never be genuine or deeply satisfying. Exploring what our life is really about is not the same as analyzing it or trying to get a mental handle on it. Of course, we all try to do that in our own way, as a means of maintaining control. But it should be obvious that no matter what we do to try to control our life, we can't make things turn out exactly the way we want. This doesn't mean we shouldn't try to have some control, or take responsibility, or make plans, such as toward getting a degree, preparing to have a family, saving to buy a house, planning for retirement, and so on. These are all reasonable pursuits. Yet we can be involved in these types of plans and still have a very myopic view, based mainly on the narrow and self-centered desire to primarily be comfortable and secure.

Without a bigger view of what life is we will continue to sleepwalk through life without a sense of conscious purpose. We
have to ask ourselves, within our everyday plans, “Is there a bigger view?” Is there an understanding of what our life is really about? Is there a sense of purpose beyond just career, family, and retirement? In other words, is there a genuine commitment to an authentic life of awakening?

I remember one day sitting on the beach when I was in my midtwenties. I was watching some seagulls, and the question occurred to me whether or not we are really any different from the seagulls, who are born, live their seagull life of flying, eating, reproducing . . . and then they die. On one level, it is clear that we aren't any different; the physical body is born, it lives, and then it dies. On a different level, many teachers say that “life” and “death” are just concepts, and that who we truly are—the interconnectedness of all and everything—never dies, but only changes form. Although this may be true, it does not negate the level of everyday reality, where it is so crucial that we understand that we don't have endless time.

To get a sense of this, it's worthwhile to take the time to go out on a clear night and look up at the stars. Astronomers tell us that at best we can see about two thousand stars; yet in our galaxy alone there are 400 billion stars. What's even more amazing is that our galaxy is only one of 400 billion galaxies! When we observe the immensity of the cosmos, we can readily understand that life is much vaster than we ever imagined. We may even have the good fortune to occasionally experience a taste of the vastness, the mystery. These tastes give us direct knowledge that we are more than just our little “Me”—that, as Shakespeare said, “There is more to life than is dreamt of in your philosophy.” Even if the sense of our interconnectedness with all of life is only vague, it still gives us an experiential taste of a bigger view of reality.

Yet it is very easy to forget and lose sight of the bigger view.
Suzuki Roshi once said, “The most important thing . . . is to find out . . . what is the most important thing.” When we don't remember this, we end up protecting ourselves, wasting time on unnecessary things, and staying caught in complacency. One way to viscerally remind ourselves of the bigger view is to simply pause, take a long, slow breath, and feel the air enter the body. Then be aware that the air you take in is the same air that is all around you and that, on the exhale, the air inside of you becomes the air outside. We can immediately tap into a taste of the interconnectedness that we are, even if it's on a very small scale. As a pointer to look deeper, it's important to understand, even conceptually, that we
are
the air we breathe as well as the ground that we walk on. Just as we each share this air and this ground, we share in the life energy that courses through each living thing. Reality on this level is vast. To realize our true nature of connectedness means we understand, experientially, that we
are
the vastness, and also, at any given moment, a unique manifestation of it.