Annie Mahon | Author, Health Coach, Mindfulness Teacher

Celebration of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Day and Thoughts on Skillful Means

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“So, if you’re seeking to develop a just society, they say, the important thing is to get there, and the means are really unimportant; any means will do so long as they get you there? they may be violent, they may be untruthful means; they may even be unjust means to a just end. There have been those who have argued this throughout history. But we will never have peace in the world until men everywhere recognize that ends are not cut off from means, because the means represent the ideal in the making, and the end in process, and ultimately you can’t reach good ends through evil means, because the means represent the seed and the end represents the tree.” — Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., from 1967 A Christmas Sermon on Peace

Right now, many of us may feel we want to join with Dr. King and his spiritual ancestors to take a stand against the injustices we are seeing the in the world today. If you’re like me, you may wonder, Am I using the kind of means that he spoke about?

There is a surprising Buddhist text on Skillful Means – the Upaya Kausalya Sutra – in which the Buddha, in one of his past lives, this one as a sea captain, was transporting 500 merchants. He discovers (in a dream) that one of the passengers is actually a robber, intent on killing all the rest and stealing their goods. The Buddha sea captain knows that if he does nothing many people die and the robber will suffer terrible karmic consequences. But, if if he tells the other merchants, they will kill the robber and they will suffer the karmic consequences. So “with great compassion and skill in means” he kills the robber. He himself takes the karmic consequences of the murder, but in the sutra it suggests that, although the killing brought about negative consequences for the Buddha, it was less so because the captain’s actions were done with sincere compassionate intentions. (Description of this sutra can be found in Peter Harvey’s book, An Introduction to Buddhist Ethics.)

Apart from the unlikely idea that one robber could kill 500 merchants, or that we should kill someone as a result of our dream images (this would not be a good practice for me), this sutra challenges our thinking about means and ends and how to determine whether our actions are beneficial. Will our actions lead to more awareness and more loving kindness, in the long run?

Clearly the means we use matter, but how can we learn whether we are practicing the kind of skillful means that Dr. King spoke about, and how can we gain confidence in making wise choices about how to act? What helps me most of all is listening to some of our greatest spiritual teachers. But doing so, I can begin to understand and approximate skillful means for myself.

Some of the wisdom I turn to to help me better understand skillful means

“With mindful walking, our steps are no longer a means to arrive at an end. When we walk to the kitchen to serve our meal, we don’t need to think, ‘I have to walk to the kitchen to get the food.’ With mindfulness, we can say, ‘I am enjoying walking to the kitchen,’ and each step is an end in itself. There is no distinction between means and ends. There is no way to happiness, happiness is the way. There is no way to enlightenment, enlightenment is the way.” Thich Nhat Hanh from Reconciliation: Healing the Inner Child

“To me, all the work I do is built on a foundation of loving-kindness. Love illuminates matters. And when I write provocative social and cultural criticism that causes readers to stretch their minds, to think beyond set paradigms, I think of that work as love in action. While it may challenge, disturb and at times even frighten or enrage readers, love is always the place where I begin and end.” — bell hooks, interview with Thich Nhat Hanh

“So someone who carries a gun, such as a police officer or prison guard, can also be a bodhisattva. He or she may be very firm, but deep within there is the heart of a bodhisattva. Our task is to help prison guards and police officers, as well as prisoners and gang members, recognize and cultivate their bodhisattva nature.” — Thich Nhat Hanh, Peaceful Action, Open Heart: Lessons From the Lotus Sutra

“I think that this sense of meaning and purpose is really important in our lives, but I think at the same time there’s a Zen perspective that’s a little different. which is: you’re wholeheartedly in this moment, mindfully practicing not necessarily moving at snails place, there’s a kind of egolessness there. You don’t need as well to have meaning and purpose in one way, but in the other way meaning and purpose is important because you come from a place where what you’re doing is not selfishly oriented, but it’s really about benefitting others.” — Roshi Joan Halifax, on Synchronicity

“If I want to deprive you of your watch, I shall certainly have to fight for it; if I want to buy your watch, I shall have to pay for it; and if I want a gift, I shall have to plead for it; and, according to the means I employ, the watch is stolen property, my own property, or a donation. Thus we see three different results from three different means. Will you still say that the means do not matter?” ― Mahatma Gandhi, Non-Violent Resistance

“Anger has within it wisdom, and that wisdom is clear seeing.” — Roshi Joan Halifax, on Synchronicity

Questions to consider

How does skillful means manifest in your everyday life? Do you ever act out of the oft-heard quote, “the ends justify the means”? How are you skillful or unskillful in your own movement toward personal enlightenment? What about in your actions toward collective liberation? How do you know when you’re acting skillfully?

When have you sacrificed your presence, loving-kindness, or self-care in pursuit of righteous goals? Do you feel that was the best choice? What might you be willing to do in order for your candidate to win an election? Do your actions feel like skillful means?

If you are interested in being part of a conversation on this subject, we will meet at Circle Yoga on Monday, January 15, 2018 at 7 pm for meditation and conversation. More info can be found at www.openingheartmindfulness.org. Hope to see you there.

What to do if someone is severing your limbs with a two-handed saw

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Artwork: Sky Goer by Mayumi Oda

Dear Friends,

I have acted out of anger many times in my life. I’m embarrassed to admit that as a young girl, anger caused me to spray cleaning fluid at my sister, and as a young mother anger had me throwing an empty plate at my husband while cleaning up after a big dinner. I’m guessing everyone reading this has had angry moments when you felt taken over by your rage.

Through the years, my relationship with anger has changed. Back in the day, I did exactly what my anger told me — spray the fluid, throw the plate. After I discovered meditation, there was a time when I thought that anger was bad and that I should be “above” it. When I felt angry, I would breathe in and out and say, “I’m calming myself,” and then ignore the anger. These days, I have a healthy respect for my anger, but I try never to act out of it.

Near enemies

I taught mindfulness at the DC women’s jail for about a year. While there, one thing used to worry me a lot and it had nothing to do with all of the locked doors I had to get through, or being alone in the elevator with prisoners. My biggest worry was that the women in my class might think I was suggesting that they suppress their anger, because of the subtle difference between using mindfulness to take care of our anger, and using mindfulness to stuff it.

This, in Buddhism, is what we call a “near enemy” — a concept so similar to another concept that we can be practicing one way when we think we are practicing the other. It’s like when you aspire to listen patiently to people with extremely different political views, but you’re really biting your tongue and cursing them internally. It may look the same on the outside, but if you are actually patient, you would create more ease for yourself and more space in the situation. If you’re biting your tongue — well, you know what that’s like.

I didn’t want the women at the jail to think I was saying that anger wasn’t useful — because it is. Those women needed their anger. Heck, we all need our anger. We need to really hear the anger inside of us in order to understand what matters to us and to resist absorbing the unhealthy messages they we may be getting from our “friends,” families, and society. Without our anger, we don’t have access to our deepest knowing.

The two-handed saw

Yet there are Buddhist writings that say things like this: “Suppose some bandits catch one of you and sever his body limb from limb with a two-handed saw, and if he should feel angry thereby even at that moment, he is no follower of my teaching.” (WHAT?) (Kakacupama Sutta) Yep, this sounds like the Buddha is saying that we should never get angry or that we should suppress anger, but, IMHO, I don’t believe that’s what he meant.

There are two different parts of anger — the feeling of anger, and the acting out on our anger. These are very different. When we feel anger arising in us, we know that something is amiss. When someone is severing my limbs with a two-handed saw (I’m curious why the type of saw is relevant in this Buddhist verse), I need to have the wherewithal to stop it. If I’m caught up in my rage about the situation, I am not thinking clearly, probably swearing like a sailor, and unlikely to be very skillful in my attempt to escape. And if I suppress my rage and pretend it doesn’t bother me, I won’t be able to take care of myself. Recognizing my anger, without acting on it is the only way to stay present and aware so I have access to my cognitive mind. In a clear state of mind, I may be able to rescue myself and others from harmful situations.

Don’t do or say anything

The practice I have now, and what I teach, is to notice when anger has arisen (heart pounding, jaw clenching, heat rising) and I remind myself not to say or do anything. Then I do some walking meditation, take a time out, or a few conscious breaths. Once the storm of anger has passed, I check in with the anger to see what the problem is.  I don’t get rid of it — I get to know it.

“If you’re not angry, you’re either a stone… or you’re too sick to be angry.  You should be angry! Now mind you, there’s a difference. You must not be bitter, and let me show you why: Bitterness is like cancer. It eats upon the host; it doesn’t do anything to the object of its displeasure. So use that anger, yes. You write it, you paint it, you dance it, you march it, you vote it, you do everything about it… you talk it, never stop talking it.” — Maya Angelou in conversation with Dave Chappelle

Illuminating power of anger

When we are able to hold our anger without venting, our anger can provide illumination, shining light on the problem at hand. This is very different from staying in a state of rage that continues to stir up unskillful behavior. As Zenju Earthlyn Manual asks in conversation with Katie Loncke of the Buddhist Peace Fellowship: “What is the anger that has no light, it’s something that is fueled with hatred. When we are in that state, are we in the state of hatred or illumination?”

So the next time you feel anger arising in you, don’t suppress or reject the light that your anger is shining on this moment. Something is happening that doesn’t feel right. What is it? Are you, or someone who needs your protection, being hurt? Could this be simply a reflection of something harmful that happened to us in the past or is something harmful happening right now?

In order to access these questions, you need to find a way to calm your reactive mind. Try mindful breathing or mindful walking. Don’t ignore your anger, pretend it isn’t there, or suppress it. But let it cool enough to get really clear on what it is illuminating and the most skillful way to respond. It’s unlikely to involve swearing, punching, or throwing a plate, but I suppose it could. Don’t rule out any action, as long as it is taken from a position of clarity and compassion. If someone is cutting your arm off with a saw, or a political or social system is creating suffering, it calls for your most skillful action. Let the light of your anger help you realize the next right step. And then take that step.

Boddhisattva Self-Care

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(image from Ted.com)

I woke up one day last week feeling sick. I got up anyway, enjoyed my morning routine of tea with my husband, and walked the dogs. But as the morning advanced, I found myself back in my bed. I was scheduled to teach that evening, and in order to do that I would need to bury my headache and body aches under a thick layer of medication. Or, I could find a way out of teaching. This posed a pretty serious problem for me because I tend to compulsively follow through on all of my commitments, no matter how badly I feel, and I despise asking for help. I see myself as someone who serves others, so I don’t like feeling selfish or prioritizing myself.

My fear of self-care was imprinted in my midwestern Protestant work ethic upbringing. In my family of origin, my siblings and I were highly motivated to avoid the labels lazy and selfish and the dreaded, “Stop feeling sorry for yourself!”  As an adult, I often find it difficult to know when to throw in the towel, rest, or take care of myself. My mom’s aphorism, “You can rest when you’re dead,” is a not-so-gentle reminder to never waste a moment of our precious lives. It was a valid concept, but one maybe more positively stated as “Carpe diem!”

I teach many women and men who have high profile or high pressure jobs, and I know that I’m not alone in my fear of never doing enough. For many of us, discerning when to take a nap or a hot shower and when to pop some more Tylenol and power through the pain, isn’t easy. My first response to the doctor who told me I would need to be in a walking boot for six weeks was to politely say, “No, thank you.” Even after she showed me an X-ray in which we could both clearly see that my metatarsal joint had collapsed, I refused to take her advice to let it rest. I left her office without the boot, only to return the next day (head hanging low) after reading horror stories online of what would happen to my foot if I didn’t stay off it.

The internal voice that says, “Don’t stop!” can be an echo from childhood, society, and even, if we aren’t careful, from our spiritual and religious practices. Those of us who are doing work in helping fields can be especially prone to pushing past our own physical and mental health boundaries. If we don’t do it, we tell ourselves, than someone will suffer. This voice often blocks our ability to take good care of our bodies, hearts, and minds.

Boddhisattva or Codependent?

In Zen Buddhist practice, we aim to live like a Bodhisattva — a being who dedicates her enlightenment to helping others.  Thich Nhat Hanh describes a Bodhisattva as someone who has compassion within himself or herself and who is able to make another person smile or help someone suffer less. It’s a beautiful image, especially because Bodhisattvas are motivated by their compassion to reduce the suffering of others.

As aspiring Bodhisattvas, we may find that we are motivated to help others out of something other than pure compassion — perhaps guilt, fear or shame. We worry that if we stop and take care of ourselves, someone else will be angry or hurt. But if we try to contribute when we are unwell or emotionally unavailable, are we really helping, or are we simply generating anger and resentment? If we think are “helping” when we are really avoiding our own guilt or fear, we aren’t a Bodhisattva, we are codependent.

Feeding the Hungry Ducks

One simple rule-of-thumb that helps me differentiate Boddhisatva actions from codependent ones was put forward by Marshall Rosenberg.  He suggests that we never take any action unless we can do it with the joy of a little child feeding a hungry duck. A child feeds a hungry duck, not out of obligation, fear, or shame, but out of an authentic joy of giving and compassion for this one hungry duck. Think of all of the things you have done today or plan to do later — how many of of your actions can you honestly say you are doing with the joy of a child feeding a hungry duck?

“Love turned inward heals the scrapes and wounds you’ve accumulated through daily living. Love turned inward weaves a cocoon of protection, where you can recharge, rejuvenate, and restore. Love turned inward conjures a reservoir where you can tap into your own power and manifest the highest expression of yourself.”  –SooJin Pate, The Radical Politics of Self-Love and Self-Care

I like the clarity of the Alanon daily reader, which says, “If our motivation for being thoughtful is fear-based and of any need to fix, caretake, control, manipulate, or avoid abandonment, we’re behaving codependently. If our motivation is a sincere desire to give to another person with no fear of shame, abandonment or neglect of our needs and boundaries, then we’re being thoughtful.” [a Bodhisattva]. It goes on to say, “When we find ourselves pleasing other people and behaving in ways that can be harmful to our needs, we should ask ourselves, ‘Have I taken care of myself?’ This question can help us discern our motivation to care for others.”

What is the Purpose of Your Self-Care?

Another way to check our motivation for resting or taking care of ourselves is to ask ourselves the question, posed by Yashna Padamsee of the National Domestic Workers Alliance: “What is the purpose of your self-care? Is it to do this for all of our lives, not just yours?” (This quote comes from New York Times article here.)

Padamsee’s question points to our ability to act out of avoidance and requires us to face the long-term consequences of our codependency. If I decide to drug myself up and go ahead and teach my class, it might benefit me by making me appear to be strong and resilient. It would also benefit me because I wouldn’t have to feel the habitual shame that arises in me when I ask for help. But does it benefit the group I am teaching? Not really. The best thing for the group is to have a teacher who can be authentically present and healthy to support the group. And for me to be well enough and inspired to teach another time.

And so, from my bed I texted a friend and asked her if she could cover for me. I paid attention to my feelings of shame at being lazy and unproductive, and I understood that those feelings were and are part of being embodied in this particular human form. And I reminded myself that if I want to practice like a Bodhisattva, inspired by compassion to make another person smile or help someone suffer less, I also must be willing to feel compassion for myself, too.

I stayed in bed for the rest of the day.

Another Dog’s Poop

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Dear Friends,

Last week, while scooping my terrier’s poop in the park, I saw another pile of poo, just next to his, and I thought, “Might as well grab this, too.”  I added the unknown dog’s poop to our little green baggie, but I noticed I felt a little squeamish.  As the mother of four, and the human friend to countless dogs and cats, I don’t normally feel uneasy about cleaning up waste. But as I carried the bag, now filled with co-mingled doggie doo, I was grossed out.

I began to wonder what it was about the contents of that bag that made me feel so icky. It had something to do with the fact that the dog who produced it wasn’t “my” dog. But unlike my children, Roger isn’t biologically related to me, and so my comfort with his waste couldn’t be attributed to a parenting gene. Over the four years since we rescued Roger and his brother, Woody, we have grown very attached to them. So much so that I am completely unfazed by scooping for them, but am made viscerally uneasy when I do the same for another dog. I’m sure this non-biological attachment comes as no surprise to any of the adoptive parents reading this, but the degree of my attachment made me pause.

Interbeing

Some years ago, I was at a retreat with the Zen Master Thich Nhat Hanh, where he answered questions from the audience. One question in particular was very touching. It was from a woman whose young adult daughter had recently died of leukemia and she was trying to understand how she could live while never being able to be with her again. Thich Nhat Hanh’s response surprised me.  He said that if the mother was mindful and concentrated, she could find her daughter right here and now in a new form.

Just as the cloud can later be found in the rain, he said, her daughter can now be found in other people. In our universe, “nothing is lost, nothing is created, everything transforms” (Antoine Lavoisier.) Knowing this, we see there is nowhere for us to go, our energy and our matter must continue on in new forms.  This is what the Buddha called interdependence, and Thich Nhat Hanh calls interbeing — the insight that we are always in process and sharing the same matter and energy back and forth between each other, like a cold virus in preschool.  In the light of this insight, discrimination between people, or dogs, seems silly. And yet we do it.  If my neighbor has a raucous party that lasts into the wee hours, I would be more annoyed at her than I would be at my son having the same party in my house.

Non-discrimination

Many spiritual and mystical teachers have suggested that we are capable of non-discrimination (though I’ve not yet seen a spiritual text referring to dog waste discrimination.) The Bible suggests we “Love thy neighbor as thyself” which would require a serious feat of non-discrimination, and the Buddha similarly suggested that, “Just as a mother would protect her only child with her life, even so let one cultivate a boundless love toward all beings.” Impossible? Definitely. Worth practicing? I think so.

“To enter the Buddha Way is to stop discriminating between good and evil and to cast aside the mind that says this is good and that is bad.” — Dogen Zenji

Even the smallest bit of non-discrimination could quite possibly lower the levels of violence and suffering in our world. Mindfulness practices, like this one, are impossible to put into practice 100% of the time — at least for we non-monastic practitioners. It’s hard to be attentive to every breath in every moment. But that’s ok, because if it were possible, it would simply become one more thing on our bucket list. Enlightenment? Check. Non-discrimination? Check. Because non-discrimination is impossible, we can continue to learn and transform by practicing it from now until the day we die.

Maybe picking up another dog’s poop is one way to begin to practice. Or treating a stranger on the bus the way you would treat your own mother. When someone annoys you, you might give him more leeway if you imagine him as your best friend. If the man on the street wearing a shabby winter coat and asking for change were your own son, would you give him something?

To practice non-discrimination, we can notice and investigate habit energies that naturally create attachment to those we spend the most time with, especially those we consider to be in our “tribe” (whether human or otherwise.) Instead of diminishing the relationships we have with our special people, non-discrimination extends the love and nurturing we have to include those outside of our immediate circle.

Love

Since that day in the park, I’ve been practicing paying attention when I feel aversion to someone or something, like to a stranger or her dog’s poop. I see my mind creating discrimination and distance by telling me that my dog — or my family — is in some way better than, safer than, less smelly then this stranger. This story may serve me in certain circumstances, like when I need protect myself or someone else. So, I’m not rejecting the mind’s discrimination suggestions without considering whether they are true. However, most of the time discrimination is just a habitual way of thinking that I can notice it, check out, and usually abandon.

“You climb the mountain to be able to look over the whole situation, not bound by one side or the other. If your love has attachment, discrimination, prejudice, or clinging in it, it is not true love.” — Thich Nhat Hanh, Teachings on Love

My brain has been training itself for four years to think that Roger and Woody’s poops are better than all others. There’s nothing innately wrong with my mind for discriminating this way — it’s an effective tool for making sure I take good care of my loved ones. Once we see that discrimination is a story that may or may not be true and may or may not serve our deepest intentions, we have the freedom to choose how we respond to our thoughts. We all benefit when we expand our circle of love. So next time I notice discrimination arising, whether it’s aversion to dog poop or another human being, I hope to have the freedom to set my discrimination aside and invite other dogs, and people, into my heart.