The Wisdom of Anger and the Illusion of Freedom

Anger is a funny emotion, because although it often causes us and those around us suffering, we deep down kind of like it.  We like the feeling of power it gives, the sense of righteousness that sometimes accompanies it, and the feeling of control we can get through it. So although we know we suffer because of it, we often don't really want to change our relationship with it.

Although we believe that our experience of reality is like a camera recording perfectly what it sees, our experience of reality is in fact an active creation of our minds.  If we can watch the cause and effect nature of our perceptions, thoughts, and feelings, we can become more accurate and more competent creators of our experiences.

Emotions affect thoughts, thoughts affect emotions, both affect behavior, and each thought or feeling helps to give rise to the next one.  Thoughts beget like thoughts, which is why positive or negative self-talk is important, and also part of why the meditative techniques can have powerful effects.

Let’s talk for a bit about the cycle of what normally happens with anger.  You may be going along, minding your own business doing your job, when your boss comes up and says something that really irks you.  This gets an immediate emotional reaction, which begins a cascade of thoughts, which often intensify the emotion, which continue the thoughts, etc.  As noted by neuroscientist Jill Bolte Taylor, any emotional reaction will run its full course physiologically in 90 seconds unless we continue to feed it.  Our attention gets focused, by which I really mean limited. We perseverate on the issue, and even when we try to stop thinking about it and to get some work done, we often find ourselves distracted by rehearsing some aspect of it again which just keeps the feeling going.  How many of you have had this experience?

The Tibetan word for this stuckness of our emotional reactions is shenpa.  It’s not the emotion itself, but the way that our experience of emotion narrows our vision, enhances the feeling of self and other, and captures our attention.  It is related to our past conditioning, in that we tend to have much the same reactions over and over, even to new insults.  

Recall the classic psychological study of conditioned emotions on Little Albert. Although he initially was not scared of small animals, by pairing the sight of a white rat with a loud sound, he learned to fear not only the rat, but other small animals like white and brown rabbits.  It is likely that for the rest of his life he would have had a habitual reaction to any new white rat or small animal.  He will think that his anxiety is "his."  He won’t remember why he has these feelings, just will accept them as if they are truth and that he's always felt this way.  We do this all the time – we have a reaction that is largely controlled by our past conditioning. The funny thing about it is that we believe it is freedom.

One way karma can be defined is it is an acquired loss of free will (thanks to Ethan Nichtern for this definition).  When we are stuck within the cascade of emotional and cognitive reactions, we are almost always thinking and feeling in ways that have we have practiced many times before.  This is why we have the same arguments over and over with our spouses, parents, children.  We are sick of the argument, and yet we don’t seem to ever find a way out.  If someone tells you that you need to stop reacting the same way, you feel outraged that they’re taking away your freedom.  But are you really free?  The only way to truly exercise freedom is to refrain from doing what you want to do long enough to be able to choose thoughtfully, not based on an emotional reaction or on habit energy.

I do not mean, however, to suggest that we shouldn’t be guided by emotions, nor do I mean to suggest that emotions are somehow bad or that we should learn to reduce or eliminate them. Instead, the Vajrayana view of emotions is particularly useful here - we need to see that emotions have co-emergent properties of wisdom and confusion.  These two properties co-emerge almost at once when you feel an emotion.  The trick is to learn to separate them and to act only from the wisdom side.

The wisdom of anger is seeing clearly that something is wrong.  There has been some injustice, or some goal has been frustrated.   Notice that this wisdom doesn’t necessarily say what one should do.  Finding the skillful action to take is entirely dependent on the exact situation at that moment, which is why our habitual reactions are almost never skillful. It may be that the skillful action to take is no action.

If we act on the wisdom component, it should usually help the situation.  If we act on the confusion component, it will often harm the situation or the other person.

How can we tell the difference?  First, we have to learn to refrain from following our usual patterns.  Until we do that, we cannot even begin to see how our actions contribute to the problems. People don’t like talking about refraining, because they incorrectly believe it is taking away their free will when in fact it is the first step on restoring it to them.

Second, we can begin to watch the course of cause and effect.  Why do we feel what we do?  What exactly do we feel? It’s not usually as simple as simple anger – there’s usually hurt, disappointment, a feeling of loss of control, old resentments, etc. that jostle with it.  We can try to trace where some of these feelings and thoughts come from. We can also watch what happens once we think something – how does it affect our feelings and future thoughts.  Finally, we can watch what happens once we do or say something – how does it change the situation for better or for worse?

Third, we need to begin to understand our motivations for taking action.  Unfortunately, most of our motivations are actually hidden to conscious thought.

For example, Wayne Warburton and his colleagues have done a series of interesting studies about why people behave aggressively when made upset. Here's the general (over-simplified) setup:  First I insult you in some way, so that you are angered.  Then you are put in a room alone and told that you will have to endure a really loud and unpleasant noise for about 30 seconds.  Participants are randomized into a no-control or a having-control condition. In the no-control condition, the noise just comes on at some point. In the having-control condition, you have a button you can press to start the noise when you are ready for it.  In both cases everyone hears the same unpleasant noise.  After hearing it, people are given an opportunity to be mean to someone else (such as the person who insulted them). If they were in the no-control condition, they are much more aggressive than if they had been given a small sense of control from getting to push the button to start the noise.  This (among other experiments they conducted) shows that we will behave aggressively partly to regain a sense of control.  

Given that these motivations to restore a sense of control are unconscious, it takes a lot of work and time to begin to notice what is truly motivating our actions. The story we tell about why we do something is almost never accurate, because it’s designed to show you off in the most positive light possible (both to others and to self).

So if this the steps above will take a lot of training, what can we do right away? We can try to notice the feeling tone that goes with our action, because that’s a little more observable to conscious awareness.   If we are acting with an angry feeling, then whatever action we have chosen is almost certainly coming from the confusion side.  Buddha said that hatred is never solved by hatred.  If instead we act out of a feeling of compassion, then the action has much higher likelihood to work from the wisdom side.

Within the Buddhist framework, we build our karma primarily from intentions. So the same action could build positive outcomes and habits or negative outcomes and habits, depending on the intention behind it.

Going back to the example of someone insulting or offending us, we get angry and immediately think of things we would like to say or do in response.  What is our motivation for saying or doing any of them? Although you could spin it in several directions, such as to clarify the others’ mistake, to defend yourself, to get back at him/her, to put the other in his place, to just hit him, etc., they actually have one thing in common – they are motivated by the feeling that they will make you happier if you do it.  So your motivation is driven by a self motivation. This will almost ensure continued or enhanced division.  This is the confusion aspect of the emotion.

What if, instead, we acted from a motivation of compassion?  This is the wisdom aspect of anger – something is wrong, and we have an opportunity to try to help the situation. So consider the anger that might be built up if one lived with an alcoholic. Tara Brach (Radical Acceptance, 2003, pp. 296-297) relates the story of a family setting up an intervention to send a loved one to a treatment program.  

"I worried about how the participants - his wife, two sons and elderly father - were going to manage being 'loving and nonjudgmental' when each one was so furious with him. They were filled with grievances: the sons who couldn't bring friends home from school because their father was such a loose cannon; the wife who had lost a partner she could count on and who treated her with care; the father who never saw his only son. I feared they'd just curse him out, rather than communicate their caring. 

"I was wrong. Harry came into that room and, he later told me, looked around at the faces of those he loved best in the whole world. They were all looking at him, all there for him. Something happened to the air in the room, he said, it seemed to beat like a pulse. After he sank down in a chair, I suggested that Marge, his wife, begin the confrontation. But, instead of reciting his absences, his missed commitments, she just got up and kissed him. 'Thank you for coming, Harry,' she said. Then, to my surprise, each of the others, even the boys, got up and hugged him....When his family did go on to say what needed saying, Harry was listening. Afterward, he took the [space in the treatment facility] that had been saved for him."

Notice that this approach does not try to eradicate anger, but is about learning to use its wisdom and energy in a way that benefits others rather than satisfies the self.

Above I noted that Buddha said that anger and hatred are never solved by hatred. That is only the first part of what he said – he also said what can solve it:

Animosity does not eradicate animosity. Only by loving kindness is animosity dissolved. This law is ancient and eternal.

- The Dhammapada (translation by Ananda Maitreya, 1995, Parallax Press)

So loving kindness is the direct antidote to anger, and it can help to solve the problems that are fostered and nourished by anger. This approach, however, doesn't come naturally to everyone, but it IS something that can be trained in anyone (although it again takes time).  The technique is called metta or loving-kindness meditation (for more details, see HERE or HERE). Practicing this can begin to train us to be guided by and act from the wisdom side of anger, rather than the confusion side. Gaining relief from our habitual feelings and response patterns truly gives us freedom, rather than the illusion of freedom that we usually have.


Image sources: Here, here, and here. This was first published at www.theidproject.org

What can Mindfulness Meditation do for you?

One of the arms of the Buddhist Eightfold Path is "Right View."  There are many meanings to this, but one that I find under-utilized is the idea that when we set out on the path, it is useful to have a "view" to where we are going.  It's like looking at the map before we set out.  It's also useful once you've been on the path for a while, because then you can take stock of where you've been.  In this context, I want to consider some ways of thinking about what the goals of Mindfulness Meditation are.

Broadly speaking, there are two styles of meditation practice - Familiarizing and Cultivating.  Mindfulness meditation focuses primarily on the first of these.

It is important to start the journey by familiarizing yourself with your mind and emotions.  How can you change or improve something until you understand how it works?  If my car isn't running smoothly, just wishing for it to work won't help. Buying new seat covers or putting an inspirational CD in the CD player won't make it run more smoothly.  By knowing how the car works, we can focus our efforts to the place that can actually make a difference.  Similarly, we need clarity about our circumstances and ourselves to be able to make a difference, but often when things aren't going the way we want, we get caught up in blaming and feeling that it "shouldn't be this way," and then we make a bigger mess.

Mindfulness meditation starts us on the path to understanding how our minds work.  As we gain familiarity, it also begins to cultivate three properties: Tranquility, Stability, and Clarity.

Tranquility is often one of the goals people explicitly have when they begin meditating - they want to slow the mind down and have some sense of peacefulness or stress reduction.  It is worth noting that people often also have the belief that the goal is to stop thinking.  This is not correct.  The mind will always think - that's what it does.   The goal is to not be so hooked by the thoughts.

As we slow the thoughts down, we begin to be better at focusing our attention intentionally rather than being so easily distracted by the next thought.  This increased stability is sometimes called one-pointed focus.

As we gain stability and tranquility, we also begin to gain some clarity by seeing deeper into our true natures.

The classic analogy in Buddhism is if you scoop a glass of water out of a muddy river, it is undrinkable at first. There is too much sediment floating around in it, and no amount of effort will change that. You can't get the mud to settle out by shaking it hard or trying to force it to the bottom. Instead, if you let it sit quietly, the impurities will slowly settle to the bottom of the glass, leaving the water tranquil and clear.

The goal of meditation, therefore, is not to get rid of thoughts, but instead (1) to understand how our thoughts are constantly changing, impermanent, and empty, (2) to stop believing them as if they are "true," and (3) to stop believing that your thoughts are you.  These realizations lessen the control that your thoughts have over you, and opens up the way that you can begin to change.

Another way we can think about Mindfulness Meditation is that the focus is always on being present.  But what do we mean by that?

There are at least three different aspects of "being present" in Buddhist practice.  The most basic and stereotypical is a heightened state of focus.  You can test this by staring at an object or space on the wall. You may notice as you focus on it that the rest of the room may darken, blur, or get wiggly.  This one-pointed focus is ironically equally a rejection of all other things that are also present.  You can, however, learn to focus on the target yet also notice all of the things in the periphery, noticing the full environment. Therefore, heightened focus doesn't necessarily have to just be about one object (such as the breath), although it's often beneficial to start here.

The second way of being present is noticing a heightened vividness, vibrancy, clarity, and specificity of your experience.  I notice this most clearly doing walking meditations, where I am astounded by the colors, the vividness, and the detail that exists in the world.  Each leaf and blade of grass is distinct and clear and interesting.

The third way of being present is focusing on the Karmic momentum of each moment and being present in the "gap."  Ethan Nichtern describes this as "where the past is creating a tremendous momentum of feeling and impulse, but we haven't yet figured out how we're going to react to it....it's the awkward vulnerability between impulse and action."  That is, based on all of our past conditioning and all of the present causes and provocations and emotions, we experience some feeling.  We usually react to these feelings with habitual responses, but what if we didn't?  What if we instead were present with feeling the momentum of the moment?  (This is the gap between steps 7 and 8, or between 8 and 9 of the 12 Nidanas for those of you who want to be Buddhist geeks.)

So these are three more aspects we gain from Mindfulness Meditation.

What takes our mindfulness away?  Strong emotions and habits -- the momentum of the past and all of our conditioning and the present causes.  As discussed in a previous post, we tend to react to each new stimulus with either grasping, pushing it away, or ignoring it.  These are the Three Poisons of greed, aggression, and ignorance.  Every time we act based on one of these feelings, we strengthen our habitual responses, so we can no longer see the gap between feeling and our habitual reaction to the feeling.

Once triggered, emotions have strong energy.  One technique that Buddhism teaches to help us deal with these emotions is that of antidotes.  For each of the afflictive emotions, there is a series of things one can meditate on to counter them (see here, for example). Note that the core assumption underlying this approach is one of change.  We are trying to break the powerful link of our habits.

Once we have achieved some level of tranquility, stability, and clarity, we can begin to work with our minds and our habit energies, but Mindfulness Meditation isn't really designed to change them.

We usually enter a spiritual pathway and practice in order to change something about ourselves.  We want to reduce our suffering, to find ease in the midst of turmoil, to be of more benefit to others, etc.  Yet, Mindfulness Meditation doesn't get us too far down that path, but it's the first step on the path. Other meditation techniques focus specifically on changing our habitual responses.

But there's a paradox present here.  We know that we're really just a quivering mess.  We don't want to be a quivering mess.  But to be the kind of person we wish we were, we have to stop being a quivering mess.  But since we are such a mess, we're not the kind of person we want to be.  So how can we break out of this conundrum?  The way out is to practice capacities that you already have, such as compassion, joy, and love.

This moves us into the next style of meditation technique - those that focus on cultivating rather than familiarizing.  We use these techniques to help grow something that already exists in us.  The next post will begin to examine meditation techniques on what are called the Brahma-viharas, or the four heavenly abodes.


These thoughts adapted from talks given by Ethan Nichtern and Alan Watts, among others.  Image sources: Here, here, here, and here.

Science versus Faith - The Fourth Noble Truth (the Eightfold Path)

What attracts me to Buddhism is that it's a practice – it’s not a faith.  There is nothing you have to believe just because someone says it's true.  Every practice can be tried and its validity tested.  At the very core of Buddhism is the Eightfold Path - a set of specific practices to be undertaken with the goal of liberation from suffering.

The past few posts have been on what are called the Four Noble Truths - the first teaching that the historical Buddha gave after his enlightenment.  To summarize, they say that (1) suffering and stress exist, (2) we cause most of it by our own thoughts and actions, but (3) we don't have to suffer.  The Fourth Noble Truth is that there is a path we can follow to be liberated from suffering - this is the Eightfold Path.  I should apologize about the length of this post - even keeping it brief it's going to be long.  Why?  I've noted before that Buddhists love numbered lists - just wait till you see this one...there are lists within lists in the Eightfold Path!

The first two arms of the path focus on discernment, or wisdom (prajna), the next three focus on ethical conduct and discipline (sila), and the last three focus on stability and concentration (samadhi):

1. Right view/outlook/understanding:  This is the cognitive aspect of wisdom, where we can examine for ourselves the Noble Truths and realize that there is some accuracy to them. 
2. Right intention/resolve:  This is the volitional aspect of wisdom.  Once we see that there is a path out of suffering, we aspire to end suffering.  Recognizing that thoughts precede actions, we resolve to set foot on the path. The Buddha discussed three kinds of right intention:
• Renunciation - Aspiring to let go of the need for certain outcomes; this is an antidote to desire.
• Good will - Aspiring to think and act kindly, even to our enemies; this is an antidote to ill will.
• Harmlessness - Aspiring to do no harm, even to our enemies; this is an antidote to aggression.
3. Right speech - there are four types:

• Abstaining from lying, abstaining from from divisive speech/slander/gossip, abstaining from abusive/harsh/unkind words, and abstaining from idle chatter that serves no purpose
• Ultimately, the issue is if it isn't (1) true, (2) beneficial, and (3) timely, one ought not to say it.  For example, saying something brutally honest at the wrong time is unskillful speech, and can bring harm rather than benefit.
• Although the Buddha didn't directly discuss this, to my knowledge, it is beneficial to think about this as referring to both inner speech and outer speech.  We are often harsh and critical of ourselves, and this brings no benefit (and it's often too extreme, and therefore untrue).
4. Right action/conduct - Again, three kinds:
• Abstaining from killing
• Abstaining from taking what is not given
• Abstaining from sexual conduct
5. Right livelihood
• This is a tricky one, given that the world has changed so much since the time of the Buddha.  I tend to think the important aspects are (1) your wealth/income is obtained through rightful means, (2) what you need to do in your job is not in conflict with right speech or right action.  Traditionally, the Buddha listed five types of jobs that are in conflict with the goal of liberation from suffering: selling weapons, trafficking in human beings, meat production, selling intoxicants, and selling poisons.
6. Right effort
• To change our thoughts and behaviors takes effort.  Effort by itself is neither wholesome nor unwholesome, so there are four types of right effort.
  
• Preventing unwholesome thoughts/behaviors from arising
• Letting go of unwholesome thoughts/behaviors once they have arisen
• Cultivating wholesome thoughts and behaviors so they arise more frequently
• Maintaining wholesome thoughts and behaviors once they have arisen
7. Right mindfulness/awareness/attention
• This is about learning be mindful of what is actually occurring at each instant, and letting go of our typical tendency to label, categorize, and judge everything - it's sometimes called bare attention.
• Traditionally, there are four foundations of mindfulness - mindfulness of body, feeling, mind, and phenomena (mental constructs), which we can discuss another time.
• The goal is through learning to be mindful of yourself, including thoughts and feelings, you begin to discern some basic truths in your own experience (the three characteristics of Dharma).  First, that all things are impermanent.  Everything with a beginning has an ending.  Everything is in a constant state of change.  Second, that suffering exists (the First Noble Truth of dukkha).  Third, that we ourselves are not the singular, independent, permanent, important selves we usually feel ourselves to be, but that we are interdependent and also constantly changing (the concept of non-self).
8. Right meditation/concentration

• This is where meditation comes in, training for stable and concentrated attention (traditionally on wholesome thoughts and actions)
• This trains the unification (collecting) of the mind.  Note that it takes right effort to keep the mind focused, right mindfulness to become aware of any hindrances to concentration, and then right effort again to eliminate the hindrances and to create the conditions conducive to concentration.

With the new-found clarity, awareness, and stability that comes from mindfulness and meditation, we are able to see more deeply and gain wisdom and equanimity, and then we're back around to increasing Right View.  The Eightfold Path is not really a linear path, but a spiral, with lots of connections between the eight parts.

Let's take a step back, and consider the word "right" at the beginning of each of these.  The Pali word is samma, and it doesn't mean right in the sense of right versus wrong.  It's right in the way of being skillful, complete, correct for the job, like a hammer is the "right" tool for the job of hitting a nail.  So I personally prefer translating these as skillful speech, skillful effort, etc.

It is significant that although we think of the path to enlightenment as a personal journey, half of the eight arms to the path are about our relationship with others or the world around us.

The Eightfold Path ultimately is a gradual path.  First we find it, we see that it leads somewhere valuable, and we set an intention to walk it.  As we start down it, we find that it’s not solitary, but brings us into communion with others; therefore our intentions are relevant, our thoughts are relevant, our speech and actions are relevant.  We find that by paying attention to making our thoughts, speech, and actions more skillful, we become better able to care for our own minds and hearts so we can shed unhelpful states.  Mindfulness and a heightened capacity to notice is relevant, and with time we become more focused, stable, and concentrated.  As we begin to change, the qualities grow inside until the destination and you are no different, and you know peace.

So what is the role of faith in Buddhism?  It may take some faith to set foot on the path, but over time, you will find what works and what doesn’t, and you will build your own knowledge and wisdom, ultimately relying on yourself – not faith in something I told you or some magical external power.

Sorry....that's as simple as I could make it.  Next time we'll tackle something easy, like quantum physics.

Ernest Hemmingway and Emptiness (Shunyata)

In 1933, Ernest Hemmingway wrote a three-page short story, titled A Clean, Well-Lighted Place.  It's a masterpiece of writing technique, and valuable for study simply for that.  But for such a short piece, it is a profound description of the human condition as it relates to the Buddhist concept of Śūnyatā, which is often translated as emptiness or nothingness.

Westerners often become acquainted with this when hearing how Buddhists talk about non-self or egolessness.  This is a difficult concept, and it usually gets misinterpreted in one of at least two ways.  It can sound like Buddhists think you don't actually exist, or that Buddhism is nihilistic and that there is no meaning to anything.  This is incorrect.  Buddhism does not deny that you or anything else exists, but instead that everything exists dependently on everything else and is constantly changing - so there isn't a solid "thing" that is you.  You are different in each new situation and with each passing moment.  Furthermore, this understanding makes it clear that everything is actually much more meaningful than we usually realize.  If we are interconnected with everything else, then our actions matter for more than just ourselves.

Nonetheless, it is definitely disconcerting when you stare this truth in the face.  Realizing that everything you think you are is not accurate, that there is nothing solid and unchanging, and that there is nothing about you that is really "you" can be terrifying.  What happens when you come face to face with this nothingness?  Hemmingway describes three paths.  I recommend reading the story right now by clicking here.

There are three characters, the old man customer, the young waiter, and the old waiter.  Each has a different approach to dealing with the inherent emptiness of existence.

The Old Man

"Last week he tried to commit suicide," one waiter said.
"Why?"
"He was in despair."
"What about?"
"Nothing."

Facing the inherent instability of existence, what Pema Chodron often calls "groundlessness," the "fundamental ambiguity," or sometimes the "fundamental anxiety of being human," is scary.  I had a student who could easily be reduced to a terrified puddle of nonfunctionality any time she considered the fragility of her existence.  Indeed, there are whole branches of psychology (e.g., Terror Management Theory) devoted to describing this fear and our reaction to it.   The old man typifies one reaction - he despairs.

"He's drunk now," he said.
"He's drunk every night."

The old man tries to numb himself to the nothingness, and when even that doesn't work, he leaps into it trying to annihilate himself.

The Young Waiter

"I wish he would go home.  I never get to bed before three o'clock. What kind of hour is that to go to bed?"
"He stays up because he likes it."
"He's lonely.  I'm not lonely.  I have a wife waiting in bed for me."

The young waiter exemplifies another typical response - he works harder to hold onto his selfish point of view.  He clings to the perception that his way of seeing things is right and others are the selfish ones.

"I wouldn't want to be that old. An old man is a nasty thing."
"Not always.  This old man is clean.  He drinks without spilling.  Even now, drunk.  Look at him."
"I don't want to look at him.  I wish he would go home.  He has no regard for those who must work."

He refuses to look at truth.  Although the young waiter will get old like the customer, he wants instead only to rush off, distracting himself constantly and believing that his point of view is solid.  When confronted with the difficulties of life, compassion, and uncertainty, he rejects them and cloaks himself in confidence.

"No," the waiter who was in a hurry said, rising from pulling down the metal shutters. "I have confidence. I am all confidence."

The young waiter is a personification of Avidyā, or ignorance. Traditionally, this is one of the "three poisons," and is taken to mean a fundamental misunderstanding of the self as separate and solid. This is the not-knowing aspect of ignorance. The young waiter also demonstrates another aspect, however - the ignoring aspect of ignorance. He clings to his perceptions and actively ignores seeing anything else.

The Old Waiter

"I am of those who like to stay late at the café," the older waiter said. "With all those who do not want to go to bed. With all those who need a light for the night."
"I want to go home and into bed."
"We are of two different kinds," the older waiter said. He was now dressed to go home. "it is not only a question of youth and confidence although those things are very beautiful. Each night I am reluctant to close up because there may be some one who needs the café."

The old waiter demonstrates a more mature and wise approach. He does not deny the fear that comes with the fundamental groundlessness of existence - indeed, he feels it deeply.

What did he fear? It was not a fear or dread. It was a nothing that he knew too well. It was all a nothing and a man was a nothing too. It was only that and light was all it needed and a certain cleanness and order. Some lived in it and never felt it but he knew it was all nada y pues nada y nada y pues nada. Our nada who art in nada, nada be thy name...

This is perhaps a type of right view - seeing things as they are. There is nothing to hold on to, and there is nothing outside ourselves that can fix that. Nonetheless, shining a light on it helps - in contrast to ignoring it or masking it with external stimulation and diversion ("Certainly you do not want music.") You want to stand before it with dignity, and when you do you see that it is not as scary as it first seems. In fact, it has a type of orderliness to it that can be reassuring. Some of the fear comes from the words we use - we focus on words like emptiness, nothingness, and groundlessness. Instead, we could just as easily say "freedom." Because we are not solid, we have much more freedom to act, react, and feel than we usually believe.

He disliked bars and bodegas. A clean, well-lighted café was a very different thing. Now, without thinking further, he would go home to his room. He would lie in the bed and finally, with daylight, he would go to sleep. After all, he said to himself, it's probably only insomnia. Many must have it.

The old waiter still feels the anxiety. He cannot sleep in the dark. But he also recognizes that he is not alone - many must have this fear. For me, here is the heart of this parable. The old waiter not only can accept his own anxiety, but he has compassion for all others and the ways in which they deal with it, and he is willing to stay open later at night in case there is one whom he can help. This is the bodhisattva ideal - that as we achieve enlightenment, we remain open to help others who can benefit from it.