Out of all the things I’m good at, I’m best at slacking. You know what I’m doing now? You guessed it. Slacking. Sure, I’m writing a blog post, which should be a sense of accomplishment since I’ve been slacking on that too, and I need to step it up on my blog again. But the reality is, I’m putting off something else. There’s always “something else” that I’m not doing and could/should be doing.
Slacking. It can be quite useful when you’re funemployed. But it might get you fired if you do have a job. In the hustle and bustle of the real world, I say, It’s good to be lazy every now and then! You need time to breathe, relax, and jerk slack off! Your body needs it. Your sanity needs it. And even your momma needs it. Not funny? Whatever.
I truly didn’t intend to make this a euphemism for masturbation but that’s kinda how I work, I guess. I just wanted this to be a cute, tongue-in-cheek entry and not necessarily in a pornographic way (Tongue-in-cheek…entry! Get it? Har. Har.). How to be a slacker is more than just porn, although that’s certainly a contributing factor! Here are my top ten ways to be a slacker.
1. More porn. Duh. I love porn. AND I’m a feminist! A sex-positive feminist who thinks more porn will do a body good. As opposed to milk. Although that could be hot. Ever seen a live cam girl pour milk all over her body? I have. For free. Suckas! (Note: Sucking is hot too. For free.) 2. Take a walk. Although this might seem like the complete opposite, most BORING thing ever as compared to porn, it actually works. It helps clear the mind, letting you refuel for more creative genius to rape your ego flow into your life in the form of: A-ha! (And not the 80s one-hit-wonder) I love this SO much that I’m going to take a 280km (that’s about 173 miles for you dumb Americans. It’s OK, I had to look it up too. Touché.) walk on the tropical island which inspired “The Beach” just to overdo myself and become an EPIC slacker. 3. Surf the internet. Surfing the internet (and NOT just porn sites because social media is now more popular than porn, thank you, but just as flagellating) is pretty much what I do all day. Is it unproductive? Maybe. But amidst this unproductivity is a sliver of information (through osmosis) that might be useful someday, stirring ideas and inspiration in a sort of brainstorming process. 4. Eat. Emotional eating is where it’s at. Just don’t get too fat. Especially if you want to look good naked. So you can fuck like a porn star. Wink. 5. Take yourself out. Dating yourself is the most awesome thing ever because it’s so liberating. Empowering. Do something fun to ease your mind off of stress. Try something new. Shake things up. Self-dates nurture your creativity. 6. Pull an all-nighter. Jack yourself up on caffeine and energy drinks and get ready to work on your last-minute project. The result of which could either be your most glorious work, if you’re into running on adrenaline and pulling an “A” out of your ass, OR a half-assed “E” for effort. 7. Sleep. I’ve covered eating, so now lets take a nap! Isn’t it funny how two most basic needs can go hand in hand with being a slacker? What does that say about society? Who always wants to do more, bigger, better, faster? Or religion? Who teaches us that things like gluttony and laziness are bad? Should I feel guilty for taking the time to rest my body? It’s a basic need for crying out loud! Thus concludes: religion is silly. 8. Daydream. Daydreaming is what you get in trouble for doing at school. But my mind always wanders off. Half the time I’m living life in my own little daydream. And you know what? I love it. I love being a space-cadette because I’m Interplanet Janet! Daydreaming is one of the keys to creativity. You can’t go wrong. 9. Meditate. I just came out of a four month Buddhist monastery program where we meditated every day for half an hour. It’s good shit. So good that I really miss it and need it back in my life. Meditation helps you calm, balance and face the day. I solve problems in my head, brainstorm, and think of old forgotten memories that surprise me all while meditating. If you’ve ever seen I Heart Huckabees and how random images fragment and defragment, it’s kind of like that. 10. Live on a tropical island. Every day is a vacation on a tropical island paradise! Things are slower-paced here and laziness is part of the culture. Soak in the sun and live, laugh, love.
Being a slacker doesn’t have to mean being unproductive. The western world puts a lot of emphasis and value on productivity but there needs to be a balance between work and stasis too. Rest can be just as productive as work, as your body, mind, and spirit need to recharge. Empty the cup before you can fill it.
So, the fact that I admit to the entire internet (HI!) that I’m a closet freak is pretty much an oxymoron.
It’s like these two superheroes dueling it out, INME. I am the superhero. I wear a cape and call myself SuperJanet! This is what I’d tell myself when I was in highschool stressing out about stupid highschool shit. And then I’d make stuff happen and get things done.
SuperJanet.
Anyway. I’m a closet freak. Not to be confused by SUPER freak (*sing* Superfreak!)! I don’t think I’m there yet. I appear sweet and innocent on the exterior. And I am, I guess. I’m pretty prude and puritanical. There’s that side of me. More conservative than most. And I know her quite well. She doesn’t want to have sex unless she’s in a relationship. She thinks anything less is meaningless and unfulfilling. She thinks sex can become needy, unhealthy, suffering. And I get that. I do. This is the side of me that rules… But, there’s this other side of me too. And I don’t know why my writing is becoming so schizo lately. Between Buddha Nature and perfectly at peace with myself there’s this other side…
There’s layers to me. Maybe I’m not willing to give up my walls because I like my layers. I’m complex. You can’t figure me out. I like it that way. I don’t want to be with some dumb little shit. You gotta have at least some intelligence to figure me out.
Beneath my sweet exterior is a bit of a masochist. A girl who likes it rough and tumble. A girl who can take some pain. Who likes girth (and her vibrator collection). Forwards and backwards. Thinks tantric sex is the best spiritual practice ever. Abhors abstinence education. Looks both ways. Loves to give (and swallow). Writes raw, sexual thoughts in her journals that could be starts to erotica stories… Is willing to explore… And is more open to open relationships than she used to think possible.
The conservative in her thinks deep down she’s a monogamous girl… But the masochist in her thinks threesomes could be great as the “third”.
I’m not sure what’s going on. I’m not sure why I’m so confused. With powerful sexual prowess just waiting to explode and shy, timid, submissive Asian ready to live as a spinster. Maybe it has something to do with my unexplored bisexuality. Keeping this side of me so dormant, hidden, for years is strangling my sense of self. Maybe I just need to let loose. Open the floodgates. But, I’m scared. I admit I’m scared.
I’m scared of a lot of things. I’m scared of committing. I’m scared of taking leaps of faith. I’m scared that no matter how “open” I say I am with my sexuality, the actuality is that I’m not. Because I’m all talk and no action. I’ve never had a threesome. I’ve never had casual sex. I’ve never been with a woman. And the thought of that seems wrong. Like it’s OK, even beautiful, for others to be gay, but it’s not OK for me? I don’t know. I talk about it so openly sometimes… But when it comes down to it, I’m scared to be with a woman.
I had a crush on a girl once who rejected me. She said she doesn’t like bisexuals. I got over her and wrote her off as an elitist lesbian, but she had a point. I probably wouldn’t want to go out with anyone who admits they want to “experiment” either, least of all not anyone who admits they’re confused… But it’s not just that. I’m not a casual girl… It scares me to think that I could fall in love with a woman. I’m not sure if I could, but maybe. Is it wrong for me because I’m not actually gay? I feel more straight than gay but with this undiscovered piece of the puzzle, how can I really be so sure? I check out women more than I do men, but I emotionally attach to men more than I do with women… The way that I crush on men is completely different than the way I crush on women, and the way my attraction sticks with men makes me feel I am definitely more hetero inclined.
Sexuality is fluid to me but I am not fluid when it comes to sexuality. Why else would I feel so confused? It’s not just gender. It’s the way I express things. It’s open vs. monogamous. It’s casual vs. serious. It’s friends with benefits vs. coupled. It’s kinky vs. …not kinky. It’s trying to decide where I fit in all of this. It’s being so damn wary to figure any of it out. Thinking maybe the spinster life isn’t so bad after all. It’s easy. Safe. But ultimately less rewarding.
I need to take leaps of faith. I need to go crazy. And I need to come out of the closet.
I’m taking a long fucking stroll to nowhere. It’s been over 6 months of funemployment and I’m still surviving. Thriving. But how do you move across the world with no money, no job, and survive? I know my circumstances are unique. Not everyone can just up and move across the world. Quit their jobs, sell their possessions. I flew to Asia with less than $1,000 to my name and no plans on when to return. Is it clueless? Is it stupid? Is it crazy? I got more funds since then but the need for funds to keep me afloat is daunting my sense of time and space. With November looming ahead, my student loans which are currently frozen, will begin again.
I can’t speak for others, but I can only provide my own experience. With no formal plans on my travel adventures, I found myself in situations that provided me the most optimal ways of living and traveling on the cheap.
Traveling on the Cheap
For four months, I’ve been living in Buddhist temples to study Mandarin Chinese, Buddhism, and practice meditation. This zen retreat program has been entirely free of charge and I’m grateful for the experience. It has been life changing and I can honestly say that I feel like a new woman. More on that later. Living under the monastery walls has kept me well fed, a budding vegetarian, and my basic needs taken care of, and then some. For four months, my spending has been next to none. Small monthly allowances were given, and I felt a sense of productivity, responsibility and minor volunteering that could carry over as skills in the “real world”.
On August 6th, having been associated with the temple, I got an opportunity to fly to Taiwan where I’m currently at, and attend an International Youth Seminar Buddhist conference at the headquarter monastery for the Buddhist organization that sponsored the zen retreat. The cost of the plane ticket was the only expense I needed to worry about which is a lot cheaper since I’m already in SE Asia. Some spending money for Taiwan was provided by the temple, as well as a scholarship grant of $300 from the conference (an unexpected surprise) that covered the cost of my plane ticket and then some. Yes, I’m bragging, but this experience has been entirely FREE.
Couchsurfing
For those who are unenlightened, couchsurfing is a website network that links travelers together for free accommodations and newfound friends. The idea of sleeping at a stranger’s home might sound weary to some, but the site is set up like a Facebook page for travelers. People can add comments about each other to review their experience and rate you as “positive” or “negative”. The more positive reviews you get, the more trustworthy you seem to others. The network also has an optional system for validating your identities. The opportunity to meet new people–strangers–means the opportunity for making friends.
While I have little personal experience with couchsurfing, I have met many avid couchsurfers who travel solely using this network and live by it as a valid nomad lifestyle. It is a great way to share cultures, make new friends, and travel cheaply.
Freelancing
Freelancing keeps me afloat and gives me enough funds to survive, though not enough to live on should I decide to go back to the decadent American lifestyle. My skills are already set and primed for a travel/nomad lifestyle. Everything I can do is online-based. From web design, social media, graphic design and writing, the myriad of options that I have are optimal for all sorts of projects. Now I just have to implement them, start working, build up my funds to travel sufficiently, and start moving again.
A Long Stroll to Nowhere
The longer I’m in Asia, the more the nomadic lifestyle appeals to me as a longer-term way of life. No permanent address, but “homebases” in the Philippines and Oregon, where my family lives, respectively. It’s a dynamic way to live. Where complacency and being static and “settling down” are scary concepts for me, the exact opposite is where my heart is. Home isn’t a place for me now, but a sense of contentedness in people and my changing surroundings.
I prefer slower travel. Staying in one place from six months to one year at a time. Hopping around and exploring each countries’ surroundings while finding a temporary base to live. Sometimes, I feel like a loser at life because I don’t have anything that I could call a “career” at this point, and my state of confusion over what to do with my life is constantly on my mind. But what I’m doing now is perfect, and at the end of the day, I still have a roof over my head and food to eat. I don’t aspire for material wealth, and poverty is a choice. My life is new and exciting every day, filled with good people and lots of laughter. I’m rarely alone, and rarely lonely. I can’t say I have much to complain about.
Why am I single? Well, there’s the fact that I live in a monastery which is kind of inappropriate for macking (not that I know how to appropriately “mack”). And there’s also the fact that I left a five year long relationship that defined my early 20s and I’m maybe too tired, afraid, or unable to see how going through all that bullshit is worth it again. It’s been almost two years since I broke up with my last boyfriend. He had just flown back to the US after a work trip to Romania and had been awake for 36 hours straight. Imagine the exhaustion and finally coming home to your girlfriend who gives you the cold shoulder when talking about his experiences to his immediate family gathered in the kitchen table; girlfriend silently walking out of the room. Imagine finally getting time alone together when girlfriend suddenly yells “I can’t take this anymore! I want out! I want to BREAKUP!!!” and starts crying in an uncontrollable mess. How would you handle that?
While that probably wasn’t the most compassionate way to break-up, that’s what I did. Whoops. Better luck next time. I tried to take it back. I tried to explain I was only crying wolf, that I just wanted to fix our relationship and make it better. But how do you fix something after an emotional trauma like that? I should have known better than to interrogate his deprived senses and yell at him like I did. Looking back, I see how completely immature and selfish I was.
I didn’t like my life and I knew it had to change. I didn’t like myself. I wasn’t strong. I was self-depreciating. Self-destructive. And ultimately self-centered. I was in a rut; spiritually, emotionally and mentally and knew that there has to be something more than this. I was operating out of the basis of fear and I knew that I wanted to operate on the basis of love. So, I changed.
We both wanted change, but I was convinced that change had to happen on our own separate paths. It’s too hard balancing a relationship, participating, when your goals transcend the relationship. Nearly two years later, I am still trying to transcend. It’s been a spiritual journey from the moment I “cried wolf”. It’s lead me half-way across the world, from North America, to Asia (when I asked myself “What the hell should I do next!?” in a crying stupor, intuition told me to move to the Philippines, where I was born). And through an unplanned form of events, its lead me to a four-month long Zen monastery retreat.
One of my friends at the retreat has a shirt with nuns standing side by side and “All the Single Ladies” captioned underneath. It’s funny. And it’s maybe not entirely untrue with my life at the moment. When I say “transcend” I mean transcending the life of impermanence and illusion that we are all living. Suddenly, relationships aren’t even on my plane of existence and I could seemingly care less, except that I do. I still do. Something in me still wants to believe in that healthy communion between man and woman, or woman and woman, or even man to man. Something in me still wants to believe that life, suffering and men are worth it. I don’t want to become a nun, I’m ready for another round. I want to face my fears and be vulnerable again. I want to bring my walls down, my fucking fortresses. But see. I don’t exactly need sex or love to break them down, I just need to interact more with people. Learn how to love fully and break out of my shell.
I’m telling myself I’m having an Eat, Pray, Love adventure, but I’m still at “pray”. I’m a monogamous girl. I’m either in a relationship, or I’m not. There’s no stage of in between with me because I hate dating, and flings, ultimately aren’t fulfilling. Emotionally, I know I’m ready for another relationship but I may not be in the right location for one. A life of impermanence, made obvious by a travel lifestyle, isn’t exactly the best way to start relationships, but ex-pats, and fellow travelers seem tempting… At this point, I’m still commitmentphobic, but I think I can revise my idea of “friends with benefits” as OK and even healthy. How’s that for transcendence?
[ enjoy this aural backdrop for your reading pleasure. or not. ]
Seriously. What the hell do you DO with a philosophy degree!? I love philosophy. And some days I dream about going back to school and majoring in some random subject that has absolutely no pertinence to my “field” (as if my funemployed ass has a field… but if it did it would be arts/design) like Anthropology! Or Philosophy! Or maybe even Psychology! Something holds me back, though. For one thing, student loans are a big pain in my ass and I don’t want to go through that again. Something’s gotta be REALLY good to sacrifice my time and money (debt) on and there’s this thing in the West called Being Practical that rears its ugly head on my (highly Western) rational mind.
Being Practical
Common Western thought thinks for anything regarding learning to have any value at all, it has to be applicable to your career. Career building! What can you get out of the course, the workshop, the conference? How can this help you as a professional? This is how we get ahead in life, in society, in our social ladder. This is how we build Egos and a sense of self. The whole thing kind of makes me sick because I hate the so-called “rat race” yet here I am, still bound by conventional thinking when I think in “practical” terms and hesitate taking college classes for the sheer notion of being genuinely interested in it, regardless of the fact that it has nothing to do with my “career”.
Despite my resistance to the “status-quo”, I still have constructs built by conventional society! On one hand, being practical is a valid concern when paying for courses which may not pay back, in the long run. The good thing about learning things applicable to your career is that you can consider it an investment in your work/business/etc. that will have practical benefits that should ultimately help you pay back the load. Taking a course or deciding to major in something that may not have monetary value in terms of your career is like having to pay for something recreational, with no guarantee that you’ll be able to pay it back. I don’t know about you, but it’s hard for me to spend anything over $1,000 for recreation. Just thinking about my Macbook Pro, which technically was supposed to be this career-building Potential(!) but ultimately just an excuse to buy a really good computer, is hard enough.
The practical antidote to this problem is to simply forgo conventional (brick and mortar) education and start hitting the books yourself. Who says classroom lectures, essays and collecting fancy pieces of paper with the seal of approval that you graduated have to be the only way to learn a subject you’re passionate about? As children, we are guided through school and life by teachers, parents, pastors and other authority figures. This is needed in our mental and emotional growth in order to shape us into healthy, contributing citizens, but as adults, we can be our own authority figures. Learning a subject on your own time shows you’re a self-starter, diligent, and passionate about your topic. It’s also a lot easier on your wallet.
What good is a major in philosophy, other than the self-important prestige of knowing you’re technically more educated? College often seems like an Ego’s food for thought; stroking the intellect’s mindgasm. The proverbial pat on the back that no one really cares about except for yourself. That self-centered sense of entitlement to add on your resume. These do nothing compared to life experience.
What the hell do you do with a philosophy major, really? How does that translate into the work field? For something which has no guarantee for job relevancy, you might as well skip academia and do-it-yourself DIY style. Going against convention might mean skipping the university and opting for an alternative.
Existentialism
My alternative came in the form of Eros, or lover. For me, a lot of my philosophy “intro” had to do in large part by a cohabiting relationship. Existentialism was the main course. Through him, I learned all about Sarte and Camus and their friendship and fall. I learned about Sarte’s relationship with Simone de Beauvoir and her groundbreaking book for Feminism, The Second Sex. I learned about Sisyphus and his rock and that life is absurd. I learned that everything is meaningless and that existence comes before essence. Through this modern standpoint, we would offshoot into postmodernism and simulacra. He showed me such films like Waking Life, an animated dream within a dream existentialist trip, and classics that delved into Life and Death like The Seventh Seal. We laughed the loudest in the indie theater while viewing I Heart Huckabees for the first time, and made out to the aural ambiance of Koyaanisqatsi: Life Out of Balance. He encouraged me to read Camus’ The Fall, and The Stranger and Dostoevsky’s Notes From the Underground; some of which have now become my favorite books. I like Existentialism like I like Buddhism. Free-will and master of our own destinies! What a big, but empowering burden to impart. The philosophy works as an “intro”, but for me, that’s as far as it goes.
Hardcore Existentialists, like my boyfriend at the time who believed himself to be Sisyphus, are just too myopic in scale to make me a believer in Existentialism as a proper framework for living my life. For one, the philosophy is modern–a baby in the timeline of human thinking born from a culture of war–that it fails to provide a broader scope of reasoning. To put it in laymen terms, existentialists are annoying, whiny and fucking sticks in the mud! All this talk about Absurdity! Despair! Meaninglessness! Abandonment! It’s enough to make a girl feel incredibly alienated and Alone. Especially when placed with a boyfriend who focused on meaninglessness, detachment and alienation (the desert wanderer). I had had enough and while I am grateful for my philosophical education, shall we say, I’m glad I’ve graduated from that particular school of life. As my friend, and Philo major says regarding Existentialism, “It’s a fun run!”
Indeed.
I’m a thinker by nature, so philosophy is right up my alley. I love critical and creative thinking* and feel that these tools give you the basic life arsenal to live a meaningful life and carve out your own path. As Plato said, “The unexamined life is not worth living.”
*This was a course I actually did take in college, which was philosophy, particularly Kant (if you want to know Stick in the Mud then fucking go read Kant and then go fuck a cunt; you’ll feel better) and Nietzsche, in disguise. I got an A.
Detachment. Detachment. Detachment. I’m naturally detached. It’s not just because of this Zen retreat. I think part of it has to do with not feeling like I’m a part of my environment because it’s hard for me to interact sometimes. Half the time, I’m a spectator; an observer on the sidelines. That’s not to say that I don’t participate and live my life to its fullest, or is it? Maybe I don’t but, I’m trying my best. Halfway around the world is a good start, right? Even so, detachment has come easy for me. I’m a naturally quiet person. I reflect and think before I say things, often erroring on thinking too much.
Sometimes, conflicts arise in our group. People stress out. People bicker. And that’s natural. Often times, the loudest people with the most to say are also the ones with the biggest egos.
If you take a step back and look outside of the situation–any situation–it starts to become funny. Life is silly and frivolous. It’s like how I sometimes laugh in sad parts of movies. It’s just a movie. I’m just an observer. I’m not in the situation and knowing that ceases to captivate me. Sometimes, the only thing I can do is laugh.
Don’t take things so seriously. Life isn’t serious. Learn to laugh a little, or a lot! This is how I stay youthful.
I’m rarely in the eye of the storm. I’m always on the edge; the outside looking in. Most of the time, I feel I’m going through life out-of-place. I don’t fit in. I never belong. It’s hard for me to engage in groups. I always feel different even when faced with a group of people who feel different. I have no anchor. I have no home.
This is how I naturally detach.
Before you pin me as some sad case who needs a shrink, I can tell you that I’ve learned to accept this frame of mind. I’m not sad by it, and I’m the happiest that I’ve ever been. I’ve learned to appreciate and be grateful for my natural detachment. This helps me live a life with less disappointments because I’m able to let things go. And before you pin me for someone cold or callous, I’m not that either. In my own dramas–usually pertaining to romantic relationships–I have been full of attachment, of the unhealthy kind. I’m still trying to figure that one out… I’m not immune to the emotional turbulence that relationships may foster, and it becomes hard to detach.
Too much detachment can be just as bad. We’re humans in a human world. It’s healthy to experience human things using our human senses. Detaching and transcending the senses by living a life of ascetics can be too extreme. In daily life, detachment can hurt when you disassociate too much from your problems or environment causing conflicts with your peers or coworkers. When I feel stressed, I can detach from the feeling of being stressed, but this often leads me to procrastination and not finishing projects. Being too detached has caused me to be fired from a job (too much internet surfing and dreaming of traveling and escaping the nine to five; one of the best things that’s happened to me), as well as risk living life too much on the sidelines and not being open to new relationships (I’m still a commitmentphobe as far as I know).
That middle path, striking the balance from attachment and detachment is always tricky, but it’s learning to live in these balances that I strive to achieve.
“You’re the cutest little Buddhist!” That’s what my friend says to me from back home. We haven’t really talked religion much. She’s one of those agnostics/atheist breeds that I once thought I was. And I was. Once. Now? I’m not so sure. It’s interesting though. The fact that I wear robes to the meditation shrine and chant every morning, bowing three times to the Buddha. The fact that I study Buddhism deeper than I have ever studied it despite my interest in highschool and college. The question naturally comes. “Are you a Buddhist?” Does bowing 3 times to the Buddha, chanting omitofou on my prayer beads, going to a Zen retreat make me a Buddhist? The short answer is no. Those things don’t make anyone a practitioner of a certain religion. Buddhism can coexist well with other religions so long as there are open-minded people. If you’re Christian, learning more about Buddhism doesn’t negate your Christian views as long as you’re comfortable in your own religion. Learning about other religions can help you learn more about yourself and secure your own views, regardless of what they may be. But, ah! I have dodged this enough. Am I a Buddhist?
Maybe, Maybe Not
This is a rip off of my favorite Zen koan, but it has nothing to do with the story itself. Perhaps I am a Buddhist. The question of labeling my beliefs always leaves me a bit dodgy, because I believe that my beliefs are outside the box of any religion. Bowing to the Buddha, using prayer beads to chant, meditation… All those things are form. This is where religion lies. Cultural; differing from region to region. Man-made. Described and influenced by language. Doctrines. Dogmas. Sets of rules and moral code. That’s form.
Beyond form is spirituality. Your beliefs; metaphysical, mystical, indescribable, intangible. Where language becomes inefficient. I like to consider myself “spiritual but not religious”. I don’t like religion and the shackles that come from it. I’m interested in seeing each others similarities, not differences. I’m interested in cultivating compassion. Not because it’s a Buddhist thing to do. I don’t like slapping a religion to a revolution, a calling, a greater cause, or simply, a journey. I don’t like “propagating Dharma” because the teachings, the “answers”, that’s just life. We arrive at them in our own time, and in our own ways.
If you don’t know where you’re going, any road will get you there. — George Harrison
Maybe I’m a little bit Buddhist. My structural worldview certainly relies on Eastern thought. Buddhism and Taoism are two integrating themes that I borrow in my own philosophies. But that’s just it. Buddhism is a philosophy for me, not a religion. Take away the prayer beads, the shrines, the bowing in front of statues. Take away the religious aspects and that’s where I lie.
Form cannot make you anything your mind doesn’t believe you to be. Religious rituals become empty if your heart and mind don’t align.
Freelance Buddhist
The term “freelance Buddhist” was mentioned via another student at the Zen retreat. She said she would continue to practice Buddhist teachings in her own ways in her own life but not be bound to a particular church or faith. I like that. That’s me, too. Chinese Ch’an Buddhism (Zen in Japan) is very much ingrained in Chinese culture. On an anthropological level, the monastery retreat has been very interesting and immensely satisfying, but the Chinese culture is much too rigid for my tastes. As a westerner, Buddhism looks completely different. Still, I appreciate China’s contribution to Buddhism, as it spread from India. If not for China and the way they culturally shaped Buddhism, there would be no Zen. That’s something I learned here that was an eye-opening look into Chinese history and its cultural contexts.
If you say that there is no God, that is correct. If you say there is God, that is also correct. This is what I believe. The two are a duality that coexist, like the Buddhist circle, or the Taoist yin-yang. What we call “God” is beyond any human’s conceptual understanding. Between metaphysical realms where language can not explain, even God becomes inefficient.
Am I a Buddhist? Yes. And no. And not quite. It’s not that simple. And me? I’m far too complex.
God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.
I was an ardent Atheist when the Serenity prayer first had an impact on me. My boyfriend at the time told me I needed to think about it to help me feel unstuck. Coming from another Atheist, one that I was constantly at odds against, I didn’t really listen to him. Why would I let an Atheist tell me I needed to think about a God thing. What use was that to my life? When I say the Serenity prayer first had its impact on me, I really mean that it didn’t. I shoved it aside and ignored his advice, partly because I didn’t want to believe I needed help, and because I can be fiercely stubborn.
I didn’t need his help. Eventually, I figured out the Serenity prayer on my own and little did he know my catharsis would be the first of our unraveling.
I was maybe the worst version of myself in that relationship. I didn’t feel like I was being “me”. I didn’t feel I even knew who I was. It’s your typical existential 20something quarter-life crisis. Who am I?
My God lines have softened now. I feel the most myself than I have been in years. And I realize it takes courage to be yourself.
From a young age, we are told not to give in to peer pressure, but it’s not that easy. We’re constantly being bombarded with information from the media, advertising, and people. Colleagues. Best friends. Social circles. Strangers. They all have a say on what you should do, and how you should live your life. I’ve been the chameleon, molding myself to other people and their expectations of me for a long time. I’ve let that get in the way with who I am because I didn’t have the self esteem or confidence to assert myself; always yielding to other people. The choice to move beyond that and discover your true, authentic self, takes courage. Don’t let peers or society dictate who you are.
Humans have the ability to adapt to change. When faced with new environments, life threatening illnesses or a life threatening situation, we react and adapt and then either struggle or transcend. Or struggle, and then transcend. This adapting is the stuff that courage is made of. When I think of my situation here and all the people who think I’m “brave” or “courageous” for doing what I’m doing, it’s hard to feel it, because I’ve already adapted. From within myself, I still feel like the same person who’s not-so-brave but when I step outside of myself I realize that I am.
Consider the life of a monk. The monk has found his life purpose in the monastery and seeks to propagate words of compassion. To spread these important and often forgotten actions, he uses the arts to start his own magazine and then publishing company. He shares Buddhist history by opening up museums and colleges. He constantly thinks of new, innovative and entrepreneurial ways to simply fulfill his life purpose, even when he doesn’t have a single penny. He has a mission, a calling and he carves his own path just to be himself. How many people can say they’ve realized and actualized their passions in their own ways? The path to simply being yourself is harder than it seems, but ultimately more fulfilling than living on automaton. Filtering out the information from your peers and from society to listen to yourself is a challenge but it can be done through wisdom and courage.
Don’t become Buddhist! The world doesn’t need more Buddhists. Be compassionate! The world needs more compassion. — The Dalai Lama
Is compassion something we learn, or something we are born with? I’d like to think we are all born good, but some people have learned to be further from their true goodness. Further from their true selves. It happens every time we are physically, mentally or emotionally abused, treated unfairly, bullied. Not loved. Love is important. Love changes lives. Love makes you flourish. Compassion and Love, they go hand in hand. Love for humanity is synonymous with compassion for humanity. Make love, not war, as the hippies say.
You Are Not the Center of the Universe
Learning compassion happens slowly. For me, it took lost. Lost of a relationship. Lost of an identity. That lost challenged and pushed me to redefine me. Looking at myself objectively and realizing that I am not the center of the universe was the first step. Being selfish and self-centered doesn’t jive with being compassionate. You have to look outside yourself and your (small) world of problems, accomplishments, achievements. Be humble. When you get too preoccupied with what’s going on in your world–positive or negative–you forget to reach out and be compassionate. Either your ego is too big, or your self is too shattered. Both perspectives hinder your ability to look past yourself and really listen and learn from others.
Self and No Self
The best way to help other people is to help yourself. It starts from within. By helping yourself, you are able to do more good for others and by helping others, you are also helping yourself. This full circle is an indication that there is no distinction from where the self begins and other people end. We are all part of the same humanity; the same consciousness. Self and no self? It’s all the same. Both encompass a whole. You have to find yourself to lose yourself and lose yourself to find yourself. Compassion comes when self and no self merge together. Be kind to yourself and acknowledge the compassion within to bring without. Do a little bit more yoga or meditation to be grounded and centered. Don’t let the inner critic win.
As I type, my inner critic is constantly telling me how crappy my writing is. I’m a perfectionist, and it takes forever to write something “decent”. If I become too wrapped up in my inner critic, I won’t have enough time or energy to have compassion for other people, let alone compassion for myself. Just let go and realize how small the problem actually is. We make things bigger in our minds than they actually are. It’s easy to do, and causes conflict. The best thing is to let it go. Combat the inner critic with gratitude. Problems don’t seem so big when you realize how much you have.
The Big Give
There is a contest called The Big Give that helps exercise your compassion by doing something kind for other people. If you’re into prompts and community support, The Big Give may be for you. Changing the world can be as simple as making someone smile. Making their day more enjoyable. Changing their perception of humanity. It’s all about making meaningful choices that affect others in beneficial ways. We all make choices, every day. We each have a hand at changing the world.
This weekend, we went to an all-girl’s orphanage to spread some joy. We played games with them, performed our Tai Chi Kung Fu fan routine, and mingled. I wish we had more time with them, because it didn’t feel like enough. I was glad that we could at least make them smile and laugh while we were there. I appreciate outings like this.
100 whacks across the
Austere metal
Kitchen counter
Strong hands wield dough
Masculine and ear splitting
Decimals vibrate my eardrums
Meanwhile
Twisted fingers
Gently pinch close
Supple yeast filled dough of
Chinese siopao bun
Inside: yellow camote
Like pleated white rose petals
Ready to paint
Blossoming and feminine
Delicate yet strong
II. We had a poet come in to speak the other day, followed by a cooking session on how to make Chinese siopao, a steamed bun with filling. Typical siopao usually has some sort of meat combination and boiled egg, but here at the monastery, we cook everything vegetarian, and for the most part, vegan! Siopao was the last meat item I ever ate, on March 29th when I first journeyed to the temple by way of bus and ferry. It was gross and disgusting to me. I like vegetarian siapao much better. Just for fun, we played around with words while we learned how to make it. Mostly becoming sensual in nature. Who knows what you’ll get when depraved young adults admit themselves into a monastery, especially when it comes to buns. “I’ll make a poem out of this!” I ass-ured.
I used to write poetry. Like a lot. I was on fire with the thoughts and ideas flitting about the pixel page. My muse entered when I newly became single. Lately, it seems to have died. People told me I was a good poet, which I never believed about myself and never associated with the label. It was hard to wear a new hat as “poet” considering I don’t even get poetry or read the stuff. It’s still hard to consider myself a poet, especially when my muse has been quiet. I’ve been frustrated with this blog and on writing, wondering what the “direction” is and where to take it. I don’t really know what to write anymore, lacking inspiration, and feel this, and maybe by extension, my life, a waste of space. There, I said it. You caught me in one of my funks. I fear this, I, me, is a waste of space. That’s silly, of course, and I know I’m better than that but let me just acknowledge the imperfections of my day-to-day.
I used to go to poetry slams, where I used to live. Back before my life turned completely nomadic, and was only semi-nomadic by way of 1) moving out of a house that I had co-owned with an ex (bad idea) in Small Town, population: 10,000 to Big Town population: 85,000 2) Joint move with two gay roomies (the most gloriously wonderful bearded gay couple ever) about 8 months later across town to Downtown (a wonderful spot). Downtown was the place to be. I only lived there four whole months but it was bliss. A sushi restaurant I never did get around to trying just across the street to the east (the novelty of the option to go there was enough for me). A health food store across the street to the south that I often frequented for bite-sized meals. A billiards lounge and fancy martini bar with a fabulous $5 menu and to die for red velvet cake southeast and… I could go on and on. The point is, I used to go to poetry slams, and right in downtown, I could easily walk there. And, the not so other point is (if you can read between the very obvious lines), maybe I miss that place.
The poetry slams were mostly a spectator sport. I came to watch poets, not to be a poet. I remember one particularly sexy poet named Trabajo. Who knows if that was his real name, because if you don’t know (and you should, because that’s one of those easy words that EVERYONE should know like ¡hola!), that actually means work in Spanish. Trabajo had the most beautifully toned and natural biceps I’ve ever seen, and he probably knew it too, by how he always wore sleeveless shirts, even in Autumn. That accent… It was a mix of Latin lover and Exotic. The kind of yummy accent that rolls on your tongue and maybe even melts in your mouth. Scrumptious. I wondered if it was possible for poets to have groupies, and if I could be one. But Trabajo soon left for Jaimaca, and bigger and better things than the town of Bend had to offer. There are just some people that outgrow their surroundings and Trabajo was one of them. Maybe I was too.
Someday, I guess I’d like to be a poet. I mean, not just any poet. A poet up on stage, slamming. I guess I should put that on my bucket list. #82 (I’m just picking an arbitrary number): Join a poetry slam. Who the hell am I kidding though? I’m not a poet. Not a real poet. And certainly not the kind of poet who can speak in front of crowds, rapping rhythms. Which probably makes it just the kind of thing to add to my bucket list. Who says I can’t? Who’s stopping me? Nothing short of Fear. The ever constant companion.
III. I joined this thing. This creative challenge thing. It’s over on my sidebar and it’s purple. You can’t miss it. Every day for 21 days, I’ll write 800 words. This can be anything from blog posts, business plans, poetry, personal journal entries, stories, anything. 5x a week, I’ll be doing yoga. And there’s a whole community of bloggers doing this. Creative challenges are for lazy-asses like me who can’t do anything on their own. I’m always up for a good challenge. Especially if it involves writing + yoga. Love.
