Patience: Letting the Mosquitoes Bite

Wow. India. India was a whirlwind of sensory chaos and social overstimulation…or was it the other way around? Whatever it was, we got served an extra-large helping. I had traveled to India once before, with Fort Lewis College in 2009, and the experience had been extremely positive and inspirational, enough so to convince me I just had to go back. This time around, things were a bit different.  India was the same of course—loud noises, enormous crowds, cows in the street, the overwhelming smells of delicious food and human excrement combined—but our level of preparation, friendly connections, and funds was dramatically lower, which made our trip significantly more difficult than last time.  Every time we took a train, instead of arriving by taxi and finding our pre-booked seat, we had to run around town to find an honest rickshaw (not an easy task when you’re a clearly overloaded white person), then explore the station with our big bags looking for the tourist office (if it was open) to reserve a sleeper (if it was available) or anything which kept us out of General seating (a giant writhing mass of body parts and bags literally bursting out every open door and window). Usually the outcome of such a situation would be that we would be sold some half ticket which didn’t get us a seat anywhere, and try to find an empty spot until somebody came by to sell us the other half, only to get charged a hefty fine by the train guy for not paying for our spot. We never actually had to pay those fines, since there was always a friendly local around to defend our bewildered state, but it did make for a lot of hoopla and bustling around (and no sleeping whatsoever through one 9-hour night ride). One time we decided to avoid the situation altogether, and spent four hours in the hallway between the bathrooms (not recommended).

                We didn’t have the comfortable sedans to drive us the long distances between towns, choosing instead the cheapest transport options, which usually meant local buses. On one 15-hour nightmare bus ride, we veered around sharp corners and leaned precariously over cliffs, nearly running into buildings at every turn in the near-total darkness while everyone around us somehow managed to look completely unconcerned, and even sleep! On another bus, we found out after leaving the station that the bus trip would be lasting just enough extra time to make us miss our connecting train, and we spent three hours sitting in the very front listening to the horn blow and trying not to freak out. Since we had no pre-arrangements made for our travel, we met a lot of people who were eager to scam us. We were overcharged, tricked with loopholes, not told the full truth, and taken to a few strange places on the way to our intended destinations. Feeling like people were making a business out of our misfortune made it difficult for us to feel like we could trust others. And then the big whammy came on our way out of India.

                Our flight itinerary involved a domestic flight from Delhi to Mumbai, then a 3 hour layover, and an international flight to Tel-Aviv, Israel. The reality involved one big storm and a whole lotta mess afterward. We had to land at another airport to wait out the storm, finally arriving in Mumbai at midnight and getting on the 30-minute shuttle bus to the international airport, only to be dropped off outside the secure zone and not allowed back in since our ticket was no longer valid. We spent the rest of that night and the two days afterward in a covered waiting room with two Israeli girls in the same predicament, being rejected help by all participating airlines and looking for any accessible form of internet to beg the outside world for help. We had no phone, no rupee or functioning ATM, no internet, a lot of luggage, and one pricey coffeeshop to provide soggy sandwiches twice a day. On a stroke of luck we managed to rig the ticket kiosk to access email, and wrote to friends asking for money, which they assumed was a scam and posted warnings on Facebook for nobody to send anything. It’s a real funny story, just ask us to give you the full account and you’re in for a hoot. But for the sake of sanity, long story short we miraculously attained WiFi for enough time to call my parents and have them purchase us escape tickets to Switzerland and then Tel-Aviv. It was a 20-hour flight that evening, and my mom asked us if we would be up for such a long travel time. We hadn’t slept much at all in our three –day ordeal, and at that point all we wanted was to GET OUT, so we couldn’t have said “YES” faster. I wish I could have photographed the look on Neal’s face when he ordered his free Scotch and Coke from the hostess on our Swiss Air flight ten hours later. All I can say is, THANK GOD FOR PARENTS!

Anyway, the point of all these stories is not only to urge anyone reading to PLAN AHEAD any trip to an Asian country, but also to share the big lesson we had to learn about Patience.  Every time something difficult came my way, I would say to myself, “Patience, patience.” I didn’t want my experience in India to be one of grudging toleration and thinly-veiled irritation when I had been so changed by my last experience there. I wanted to open up to the beauty of India, to forgive the place for its troubles and love it for its ability to transform the soul. But if I was going to do that, I would need to pass this patience final exam and transcend those obstacles.

If you have the fortitude for it, India is a beautiful place. It is full of vibrant color and teeming life, and the culture there is a whole different type of freedom than the one we are so proud of in America. There, a man can renounce the material world entirely, wear no clothes and cover himself with sacred ash, and his neighbors will make sure he eats every day. There is always a place for the poor, and practicing your religion in public will not get you sidelong glances from passersby. A person can open a shop under the stairs somewhere and never have to pay property taxes, or sleep anywhere and never be questioned. Bartering is customary, so you are free to decide what price an item is actually worth instead of letting the business determine how much money it can make off you. The fabrics are of finest quality; the music and dancing are exotic and entrancing; and the food is absolutely delicious. And don’t forget the centuries of politics and religious teachings, which form the backbone of many Indian people’s lives (as well as transforming Western ideas), and deepen the sights and sounds with enchanting mystery.

India is also a place where you can see life at its most real. The vast separation between rich and poor took us aback—we saw well-dressed professionals driving personal vehicles to and from work, and others who had never traveled much farther than the mud hut or curbside shack where they were born. The sheer numbers of people at every turn was overwhelming, especially when a good number of them were staring openly and unabashedly at the two of us. Because of the huge population and the absence of governmental programs and regulations such as waste management or traffic police, the effects of the increasingly popular consumer lifestyle are starkly obvious. The smell of garbage burning takes over the streets at dusk, and people suffer from all sorts of lung diseases from breathing noxious car exhaust fumes. There are no education programs or incentives to help the poor become less so, so the caste system which was abandoned so many years ago still plays a big role in the opportunities each person has access to—in other words, if you’re born poor, you stay poor.

Despite all of the difficulties that Indian life presents, however, the people are remarkably tolerant and accepting of most things. They have mastered the art of waiting hours, days, or even years for something to come, and they are even better at shrugging it off when it never does come. Watching those people sleep on the bus when I was certain we would die any second was an eye-opening experience for me. I realized the level of relinquishment that total acceptance of one’s situation requires, and the power inherent in the most seemingly helpless of moments. Indian people redefined the word “patience” for me. I realized that patience is not just an idea, but a way of life.

The interesting thing about patience is that we wouldn’t need to use it if there were nothing around to test it. As Helen Keller said, “We could never learn to be brave and patient, if there were only joy in the world.” Every description of patience is accompanied by words such as ‘difficulty,’ ‘delay,’ ‘provocation,’ ‘annoyance,’ ‘anger,’ ‘negativity,’ ‘strain,’ et cetera. Notice that these words describe external situations with internal responses. Usually what is testing our patience is outside of our selves and our sphere of control.  This can be extremely frustrating, especially when the problem is being caused by another person, but it can also be freeing. The modern philosopher Eckart Tolle says that we have three choices in any situation: “change it, leave it, or accept it totally.” If one or more of those options isn’t available, you are left with what is left. We hear the same idea in the Christian peace prayer: “God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; the courage to change the things I can; and the wisdom to know the difference.” Being able to accept a situation completely without inner resistance takes a lot of practice (which I can personally vouch for). It also requires us to forgive others for their habits or indecisiveness (or for viewing us as a source of income rather than a fellow human being), and realize how dependent on others we actually are in nearly every aspect of our lives. Being patient with others is a form of compassion and respect for them. The Buddhist philosophy goes beyond patience as merely a form of endurance, saying that we have to be committed to never return harm. “See that no one returns evil for evil; rather, always seek what is good for each other and for all.”

In India, I often felt like I had no control over our situation. On that long and scary bus ride, I had the same three options: I could get off the bus, I could try to convince the bus driver to slow down, or I could put all my faith into something completely out of my hands. I considered all three options, and I decided to have faith. I sat there on the bus and worked hard on my trust, accepting my situation and all potential outcomes as out of my hands, and forgiving the people around me for not feeling the same way I did. I allowed the storm to take its course, instead of creating another storm within myself to fight it. And guess what? We made it safely to our destination—though I never plan to take a night bus in India ever again. I do have control over THAT situation…I hope.

It is okay to feel helpless. It is okay not to know what to do all the time, because it isn’t our job as humans to know what to do. We are subject to the workings of the Universe, and we really can’t control much except our inner realities (which I believe is the MOST effective way to influence your outer reality). Sometimes the only option you are left with is taking a deep breath and sitting back. This applies to boredom as well. I think Americans often suffer with the affliction of boredom, because we are trained to feel like we should always be busy accomplishing something, always being MORE and BETTER than we were two minutes ago. However, sometimes there is really nothing to do but wait. Pema Chodron wrote a book called “Getting Unstuck,” which discusses our desire for escape and the many ways we perpetuate our own feelings of dissatisfaction. Her solution to this perceived problem is not about freeing ourselves from our physical confines, but rather our mental ones, by Learning to Stay. Boredom may be a struggle, but think of how rare it is in today’s society to be given the chance to sit around with nothing to do. I am practicing the art of the Passive Observer, taking the time when there are no responsibilities to open my eyes and see what is around me in a new way, and I am starting to see just what a gift it is that we are given that chance to step back and look around every once in awhile without having to always play the role of Decider in our own lives. We met a man from the UK in the Mumbai airport who had been waiting FOUR MONTHS to be issued a ticket home. Granted, he was a bit crazy, but nobody could say he hadn’t made the most of the situation, making friends with the staff and taking on the responsibility of helping other marooned travelers find cheap food and shelter when nobody else would help. He opened up to the possibilities inherent in What Is, and allowed himself to adapt to an unpleasant situation in a positive way. The future is uncertain, but that doesn’t mean we have to feel trapped in the Now.

I think the hardest part about learning patience is that it is such a slow process. Even though I had many successful patient moments along the journey, it was no guarantee that I wouldn’t overreact in another situation. The true challenge of patience is making the commitment to doing it over and over again. Persistence over the long term does pay off, but sometimes the experience feels like starting all over again. When I get into mindsets like these, I am reassured by the lessons I learn from the journeys of others. The inspirational activist Peace Pilgrim made a graph of her path to inner peace, with a whole lot more ups and downs than any sort of gradual incline towards improvement. The Dalai Lama has been living in Dharamsala, India, exiled from his homeland of Tibet for most of his life, and yet he is adamant that the people must allow more time for the long-drawn out Tibetan struggle to be resolved. If people such as these can use patience as one of their tools to become powerful leaders in society, then I know I can brush myself off and start again and my efforts will never lead to failure. It seems like a big undertaking, but luckily I really only have to do it one moment at a time, and be committed to doing it when that time comes again. And hopefully after such a big final exam like India, the smaller challenges of daily life will be easier to put into perspective.

The first stories I told about India at the beginning of this blog are commonly told by travelers to this part of the world, so it is easy to understand why people are often wary of visiting such a place (and I know we had a few moments of uncertainty ourselves). I suppose in order to see India at its fullest you have to let your mind transcend the idea of what is “good” or “bad” and just take it for all that it is. In order to do that, it’s going to require a lot of patience, but I assure you, fellow explorers, that the rewards far outmeasure the challenges of such a unique and vibrant place. Jump into the deep end of the Ganges! Let those mosquitoes bite! Be fully awake and alive! INDIA!

Suffering, Bliss, and the Middle Way

         Okay, where to start? This is the problem… How do I manage to get a hold on all of the thoughts, opinions, emotions, and ideas running through my head at once and organize them into a coherent thesis? For someone like me, a self-proclaimed over-thinker, this challenge is almost too much at times. Just ask my high school teachers—they tried to get me to come up with a thesis, a conclusion, and transition sentences, for heaven’s sake. I was asked to choose ONE point, not EVERY point, and I was often accused of being too “vague” in my writing, which I attribute to the fact that I was always trying to include every possible connection that could be made between my topic and everything else in the universe. And the process of writing was near torture—I would spend countless hours of grueling work at the desktop—with the occasional five-minute “shake everything you’ve got” dance session to calm my restlessness—only to come out of my reverie and discover one meager and totally convoluted paragraph staring at me from the screen.

            Those many years of avoidance and procrastination and reluctance have passed, and somehow I have managed to overcome those obstacles and write a pretty good paper. But despite my newfound organization skills, the overactive mind relentlessly works on in my day-to-day life. This wasn’t much of a big deal in the past; in fact, aside from my academic struggles, I hardly noticed it for most of my life, until we started this yearlong trip. Suddenly, I felt like I could hardly get a moment of silence to myself…it was exhausting. For several months I was extremely upset over this new realization, because my overwhelm was making it difficult to function joyfully (my preferred M.O.) and I could not determine what about the trip was causing it (though my mind never ceased to point blame somewhere). I felt a constant craving for ease, for balance, for a feeling of lightness rather than the weight of my heavy mind constantly pushing me to the ground. The most frustrating part about it, however, was just how obvious my mind state was to everyone around me. I had my irises examined by an iridologist in New Zealand, and she told me, “You could make life so much simpler for yourself if you would just let go of those unnecessary thoughts.” My mom told me, “Most people have 3-4 mantras they use for their entire lives, and you are using 6 mantras a day!” And one Russian friend we met right before our retreat deduced my Numerology and told me simply, “You think too much.” It didn’t require much of a grasp of English for her to get right to the core.

            It is hard not to blame yourself and get a bit depressed when you hear from all sides that all of your problems could be solved if you just didn’t make them problems, which, though partly true, often just serves to increase one’s burdensome negative emotions. I had found many ways to personally cope and ease my burden over our months of travel (mostly through a whole lot of letting go), but our 10-day silent meditation retreat at Suan Mokkh monastery in Thailand was definitely the climax of my self-understanding. There, I quickly discovered (with great relief) that most people struggle with an overactive “monkey mind.” This constantly distracted, shallow state of being is actually generally accepted and often urged in mainstream society, a place where one must be able to switch one’s attention quickly from one task to another without getting too caught up in any of them—Hold on, I need a moment to dance. I’ll be right back.

Aaaaanyway…where was I?

            So we took a break from the demanding travel life to enter the silence and reflective tone of the monastery. I was very much looking forward to this experience, excited about some good quality quiet time, some time to really focus within and rejuvenate. The experience of travel involves stepping out of the real world into a place where you get a much clearer view of your own limitations. There are no responsibilities to focus on, but rather than silence, your mind rushes to fill in the blanks with more thoughts. Often, the mind will build up all sorts of expectations of what the future will hold, and when those expectations do not come true, it leads to stress and doubt and fear and all sorts of defense mechanisms in an attempt to protect the ego. I imagined that some time to meditate would provide some respite from these conditions, but in fact it only served to take the conditions to a further extreme—no responsibilities (aside from my daily sweeping duty), no talking, no reading or writing, two meals a day, no running—no place at all for the mind to hide.

            At the beginning of the retreat, I became very familiar with the idea of dukkha, or suffering. The first few days I wondered if I was actually insane and just hadn’t realized it up to that point. Every minor thing was capable of driving me crazy, particularly the actions of others. The woman in the room next to mine brushed her teeth three times a day, for the full three minutes, with her electric toothbrush, despite the fact that we only ate twice a day. There was no talking and limited interaction, so instead I would find myself trying to glean some meaning from others’ expressions, and sometimes I would even find myself getting offended if I felt they were not being polite enough in their reservedness! One Spanish girl refused to make eye contact or acknowledge others in any way, and I found it entirely infuriating. If someone appeared to be acting in a less-than-mindful way, I would launch into a full-on mental rant about their total misunderstanding of the retreat’s purpose and my disappointment in the human race as a whole. In those moments when I could not focus on others for distraction, I would either hear cartoonish voices putting on goofy plays and giving nonsensical lectures to nobody in particular, or James Taylor’s song Fire and Rain playing on loud repeat. To put it lightly, it was a bit much.

            After a few days, I began to get some respite from these overwhelming and chaotic moments. Relief came in the form of a hot cup of cocoa, a soak in the hot tub, a rejuvenating yoga session. I found a great deal of joy in pouring cold water down my back at the communal bathing pool, which I did twice a day to combat the hot jungle weather. One day I watched a cat squat down and take a big poop right in the middle of a bunch of people trying to focus on their walking meditation, and I had to run away to keep from laughing out loud at their bewildered expressions. These small moments of joy helped me to be more fully present and able to focus on the lessons of Buddhism.

            Buddhism is not only about silencing the mind, it is learning to let go of all of the things that the mind deems important. The pain we create now is always some form of nonacceptance—some form of unconscious resistance to What Is. We have to accept what is, and not try to resist it or change it, because it is futile. Buddha says, “What could be more futile, more insane, than to create inner resistance to something that already IS?” If we can fully accept the “isness” of life, then we have already greatly eased our burden of suffering. We will not be constantly trying to make our lives feel less unsatisfying, because we will have accepted the terms of life entirely. Besides, that is another truth of life—it is unsatisfactory. This isn’t a pessimistic idea; it is merely telling us that we will never find true happiness if we seek satisfaction in material objects or other people or anything else which is ultimately impermanent. The joy of eating ice cream only lasts so long as the ice cream is being eaten, and no process of looking forward to it or remembering it will allow that pleasure to continue. We will never be free of suffering if we attach ourselves to the idea that true happiness comes from outside of ourselves, because due to the impermanence of all things, we will forever be chasing happiness from one place to another. This attachment, this constant craving, this desire for something which is merely an illusion and by its own nature is subject to change, this is suffering. Buddhism says, “This too shall pass.” Embrace that and find peace.

            In addition to letting go of our attachment to the material world, Buddhism urges us to relinquish our idea of a Self. This idea is really complicated and I found myself struggling a great deal with accepting it during the retreat (probably because it would mean letting go of my “identity,” which is an indescribably difficult thing for the mind to do). Regardless of my acceptance or nonacceptance of this idea, however, I see a great deal of benefit in living selflessly. Most people I know (myself included) spend a good portion of their time building upon their ego (or identity), and the rest of their time defending it. That is why I felt like I was “driving myself crazy,” because I believed that the I doing the driving and the I who felt crazy were both me, rather than seeing the mind as a separate entity and allowing myself to let go of the need to associate with it. If I am not attached to what my mind is doing, I don’t look there for evidence of who I am. I still pay attention to how I feel, because emotions are good tools, but I no longer identify with those emotions and allow them to take me over completely. “The ego is in perpetual resistance to the present moment, and needs the ideas of past and future to survive.” So I let go of my attachment to both, and live in the only place that is actually real—the Now. Buddha says that when you live fully in the moment, “you see yourself in everything, but there is no “Self” that you need to protect, defend, or feed anymore.”

            Finally. Buddhism teaches that life is always about taking the Middle Way. One of our teachers was very fond of telling us that “Life is neither easy nor difficult,” which has proven to be quite true for me. Meditation is the same way. If I spent too much energy trying to attain a certain level of concentration, then inevitably I would get too hard on myself and become angry and frustrated. If I just sat there and did not try at all, then it would take about twenty minutes for me to come back to reality and realize that my mind had taken me on some crazy adventure of the imagination and I had not been present at all. This idea also relates to those who try to move toward or against ideas. For instance, if we like something, then our mind urges us to seize on it and take it over. If we do not like it, our mind pushes it away in an attempt to be rid of it. We make huge efforts to become one thing and to not become another, whichever pleases the mind most. But if we do these things as a way of bringing the mind satisfaction, rather than as a response to our inner truths and abilities, then we are trying to force a reality which is not actually based in truth, and therefore we will suffer. Instead, one does whatever is required in any situation without letting it become a role to identify with. Then the action is performed for its own sake, and there will be no sense of identity loss if the duty becomes obsolete. Taking the middle way sounds simple, but it rings true, and it leads to both motivation and relief because it shows that one need not do more than one is able, and that if it feels right, it probably is right. By taking the middle way, we can first do good, then refrain from doing evil, and then finally transcend good and evil altogether and reach a higher state of functioning that is without judgment. We can also find relief in letting go of the past and future, and living fully in the moment.

            These lessons and many more can become quite deep and complex, so I will refrain from going too far in this blog, but I wanted to mention a few of those which had caused me to deeply rethink my ways of responding to the events in my life.  I saw very clearly the workings of my mind and the ways it becomes attached to illusion, and I began relinquishing my need for control. I rejoiced in gratefulness and loving kindness. I appreciated the beauties of nature, and especially that blissful moment when I found myself dancing silently and ecstatically in the hot pools while it rained. Oh thank you, universe, waving trees, blue-black sky, cold rain, soundless underwater, Bliss!! The only thing that could make this experience anything less than perfect would be…. FIRE AND RAIN playing in snippets on semi-repeat!!! DUKKHA!!! …Oh well, nothing is permanent, I suppose. Except Styrofoam. That stuff never biodegrades.

        Since the end of the retreat, I have given myself more opportunities to listen to my own inner truth and not follow my mind down its imaginary paths as eagerly as I once did. I am definitely not an expert meditator yet, and I bet that title is a long way off, but I have had a few powerful moments of presence which have changed the way I see many things. Much of my life up to this point has involved a lot of reminiscing nostalgically about the past and catastrophizing the future, and I am joyfully letting go of that. I am also having an easier time cutting off the beginnings of an imagination which could take me down a path of stirring up old emotions or building new ones. I stop the thought and allow silence to enter for just a second, like taking a breath, consciousness without thought. Stillness. Ease. But not easy.

Now I think I’ll take another moment to dance, but this time, for a different reason.