Master Tactician Disturbs the Field

The new landscape of my political/cultural life is much more dramatic than it’s been in quite a while. I’m finding it incredibly easy to be sucked in to the drama that seems to be a part of Trump’s operating style.

The other day, Trump lashed out at Chuck Jones, the president of United Steelworkers Local 1999, who had the audacity to publically challenge Trump’s claims of how many jobs he saved in Indianapolis. Trump lashed out on Twitter, accusing Jones of doing “a terrible job representing workers.” I found this enormously upsetting. Isn’t this just like Trump to use his power to bully someone who speaks up against him? Is this what will happen to all of us who speak up?

I am consistently disturbed by Trump’s use of Twitter to personally attack people who disagree and to make baseless accusations (voter fraud) that are presented as fact, but never backed up or even rationally discussed. But I am beginning to suspect that this is exactly the purpose of the tweets: to keep us disturbed and off balance.

His tweets attacking the cast of ‘Hamilton’, who had directed a restrained but pointed speech at VP Pence, just happened to coincide with the announcement of the $25 million settlement Trump University agreed to pay disgruntled students. The tweets received much more attention than the admission of fraud at his eponymous university. (BTY – I have always wanted to use eponymous in a real-life sentence. Mission accomplished.)

I notice that the arousal of my anger when Trump appears to act impulsively and vindictively comes with a deep sense of frustration and helplessness. This man is SO bad and SO narcissistic. What can be done? We’re all screwed.

The sense of urgency and personal threat arouses my primitive brain that then comes on-line and begins to choose between the three options at its disposal: fight, flight or freeze. Strategic, long-term thinking goes out the window. All I want to do is wring his neck. Or I am so disgusted with the whole mess, I just want to turn away. Or the overloaded circuits in my brain simply shut down and I move into a pleasant state of numbness. While all these responses are normal and predictable, they may not be helpful. Living in a state of constant arousal or full shut-down does not improve my capacity to act effectively nor the quality of my life.

I have to admit to a grudging admiration for Trump’s tactics. Getting your opponents so upset that they can’t think straight seems like a winning strategy. (If we ignore the terrible costs in the disruption of relationships and reason.) This is, of course, an ancient political strategy but Trump, whether consciously or not, seems to have taken it to a whole new level.

Trump is the primitive brain whisperer. He touches the deep angers and frustrations of the disempowered as well as the fears and insecurities of the elites who thought they knew were in charge.

We would do well to proceed with caution and awareness.

The Restless Realm Revisited

Last night, I found myself awake in the middle of the night. I often wake for short periods, but usually drift back to sleep without much trouble. But then there are the times, like last night, when I’m caught in a realm of restlessness and unease. I find this state of sleeplessness very unpleasant. I don’t have physical pain, but I’m unquiet in body and mind. I switch from side to back, then back to side, then side to side. Nothing feels quite right. Awake against my will in the middle of the night.

I can’t help looking at the clock. It’s a little before one a.m. and my mind is full of this unpleasant energy. Like an impatient animal in a cage, I pace back and forth in my mind. No place to rest. I just want to fall back into sleep, but I’m deeply unsettled. Someone has done something to me, I just can’t figure out who it is or what they have done. I feel very righteous and set upon by others.

I have been here often enough that I recognize this place. I am in the restless realm. One of the ‘tells’ is that I find myself repeatedly imagining conversations with others. In these conversations, I look to find the exact right words that will lead to my complete vindication. My imaginary opponents will realize the error their ways and finally see the truth of my position. Within this land of blame, the only way out is to locate the problem and then find the solution. My mind flits from problem to problem with no resolution.

I know this is often a difficult state to emerge from. It is very compelling and feeds on itself. Each thought leads to the next in a perfectly solipsistic world—a world that has impeccable internal logic that sustains its existence. I know the thoughts of escape themselves are part of the very problem they appear to be trying to solve.

I turn my attention to my body and breath. I know I am caught and if I can just turn my attention to something else, I can escape. I manage a few conscious breaths, then find myself back in the maze of thought and emotion. I try repeating the name of the Bodhisattva of compassion with little success. Sometimes these tools work. But now, though I do my best, after only a short time, I’m back to the worrying.

Nearly an hour has already gone by. I feel no closer to getting back to sleep than when I woke. The night is passing and I’m not sleeping. I’ll be tired tomorrow. I know I am in this realm, but I can’t find a way out.

Having run out of options, I finally turn toward the possibility of just being where I am. This always sounds logical and easy when I read it in a book, but given the strength of my dislike for this state, practicing it is quite a challenge. The question my Zen teacher gave me so many years ago floats into my awareness: “What is there here you have never noticed before?” So, in the middle of my dislike and discomfort, I try to notice the shape and texture of this place. What are the edges? What’s the worst part of being here?

I also remember another Zen teacher’s training phrase: “This is how people sometimes feel.” I’m slightly comforted to remember that this difficult place of sleeplessness is one of the places human beings go. It’s not just me. There are countless others who, at this very moment, may be in this same realm.

Nearly two thirty now. It’s still not pleasant, but since all attempts at escape have been thwarted, I use my great Zen powers to stay where I am. I have a slight memory of something easing and feeling a glimmer of hope.

I look at the clock again. It’s still dark, but it’s five o’clock. Where did the time go? I must have found my way out without knowing it. I say a quick prayer of thanks and head for the bathroom.

Reaching Across the Divide (just a little)

I had my first political discussion with someone who voted for Trump yesterday. I’m not proud that it’s taken me a month to even begin to make connection with ‘those people.’ It’s partly living in the liberal republic of Massachusetts, partly the wisdom of not wanting to increase the divide through anger and blame, and partly a symptom of the social isolation endemic in our country. Personal choices of media and friends that agree with us are supported by the unconscious social structures of privilege, race and wealth. We are spared and deprived of the disturbance of connecting with people who see the world differently.

I suppose it has always been like this. For many ancient peoples, the word for their tribe was also the word for ‘human being.’ In our early history, nearly all of our time was spent in our tribe. Our identification with our tribe was a key to our survival. The idea of having multiple truths or of needing to be in relationship with people who didn’t share our views was mainly irrelevant to the urgent task of getting by.

But back to my conversation. I didn’t know for sure that my friend had voted for Trump. She had said earlier in the election that though she was a long-time Republican, she couldn’t bring herself to vote for Trump. But, given the election results, I suspected her resolve might have shifted. Unconsciously, I also picked her because she is a member of many of my ‘tribes.’ She is highly educated, about my my age, a teacher, and (probably most importantly) she is an enneagram nine.

The enneagram is a personality typing system that says it can be helpful to group people into nine different categories that describe their basic relationship to the world. Of course we are all so much more, but it does seem true that we all have natural tendencies that appear in many of our interactions. All the nine types are equal and necessary. Though I am just an enneagram dabbler, I have sometimes found it helpful to remember that even within our tribe of the moment, all human beings see the world through radically different lenses.

Both my friend and I are enneagram nines. Nines are mediators and peacemakers. We just want people to get along. We don’t like conflict and are willing to do what we can to accommodate different perspectives in service of keeping the peace. In short, a perfect person to select for my first conversation with ‘the other side.’

Our conversation was rich and rewarding. We touched lightly on our different perspectives prior to the election, but focused more on current hopes and concerns. When I asked her to reassure me that this wasn’t an unmitigated disaster, she said: “Well, at least we’ll have some big change.” I had heard this before. Many who voted for Trump did not vote in favor of his bigotry and lying, but rather voted for the need for a radical change in the country.

My friend also spoke of her growing awareness of how many voices in our country are not heard, of the black minister of her church in the south who spoke of getting pulled over while driving on the highway for no other apparent reason than the color of her skin. She shared her concern for the small but visible radical fringe that has been emboldened by Trump and how reasonable people needed to stand up to violations of rights and respect.

We didn’t push deeply into the areas of difference. We reaffirmed our mutual respect and long-time relationship. But perhaps more importantly, I think we inspired each other to stand up to institutions and practices that are closed and disrespectful to ‘others.’

I know there are many more conversations required of me and not all of them will be so safe and accommodating. But for me, this was a good first step.  How about for you?

It’s Not Just Personal

The Buddha’s first teaching, which came to be known as the First Noble Truth, is that all human beings suffer. At first glance this may appear to be a pessimistic view of life, but looking closer we can see that it is simply a representation of how it is for human beings. No matter who we are or what we have, all of us encounter experiences and mind states that range from slightly uncomfortable to experiences that terrify us and cause us great pain.

We meet the darkness within ourselves and in the world. One form that this darkness sometimes takes is the feeling of personal brokenness. At the heart of it all, we begin to realize that we really don’t like or approve of who we are. We secretly know there is something inherently wrong or broken about us that makes us uniquely different and separates us from all the other human beings on the planet.

This particular state seems to arise from our propensity to compare our internal experiences with the external appearances of others. Our internal states are widely varied and, at times, confused and chaotic, whereas the external appearance of other human beings is much more composed and stable. We feel confusion and self-doubt, while others simply go about their business. What’s wrong with us that we feel like such a mess? Why do we feel lonely, sad, angry, ashamed, lost (etc) when everyone else seems to be doing fine?

From this place, the more intensely we feel our uncomfortable internal state, the more isolated we feel. One of the things I often remind people when I meet with them in these places is: It’s not just personal. While our feelings and internal states can be traced to specific causalities in the recent or primordial past, they are also simply part of the experience of being human.

From the personal perspective, my difficult feelings are a signal that something is wrong with me or with my environment. The course of action is to figure out what is wrong and to make it right. This is partially true and sometimes very helpful. Internal states can alert us to things that need to be addressed and give us the motivation to step out into the world and make changes.

On the other had, difficult mind-states are a guaranteed part of being human. Our sense of brokenness is a feeling that almost every human who has ever lived has experienced. Our loneliness and sense of isolation is what links us to all the other human beings on the planet.

When we are reminded that what we are encountering is what human beings sometimes encounter, it can sometimes allow us to ease up on ourselves a little. Whatever we are experiencing, is just what we are experiencing. This may help us avoid the extra layer of suffering which is the thought that not only am I suffering, but I shouldn’t be suffering.

Then we can begin to explore the whole range of human experience. We don’t have to avoid any part of being human and are free to be at home right where we are.

Back From Retreat

We’ve just finished a three-day meditation retreat here at Boundless Way Zen Temple. We host five Zen retreats a year; ranging from three days to three weeks. Each one is an opportunity to enter deeply into the experience of being human. As you may guess, these retreats are both wonderful and incredibly challenging.

Sitting still and walking in silence allows us to become more aware of the thoughts, emotions and sensations that are constantly arising and passing away in our experience. In the Zen tradition of Buddhism, we’re not trying to get rid of, or even control. what arises. We are simply practicing the discipline of not getting carried away by what is arising. Or more accurately, we are practicing getting carried away and then returning.

Zen is not a religion of beliefs or creeds. You do not have to believe anything to join in. The teachings of Zen Buddhism are all considered to be pointers to turn us to our own experience where we can see for ourselves what it is like to be human. The wisdom that guides us is not somewhere else, but arises in the immanence of the moment itself.

I always emerge from these retreats astonished, grateful, and slightly disoriented. I am astonished at the beauty of life itself—at the way life is always giving itself so generously to us all. Now in the form of the snow gently falling. Now in the form of the slight ache in my back as I slump in the chair with my computer on my lap. When I meet what is here without wishing it were otherwise, I see everything is indeed sacred.

And I am grateful to be part of the human intention to wake up. We are all called by life itself to wake up to something beyond our small self-interest—beyond our selfish complaints and wish for immediate comfort. The forces of self-interest are strong, both within and without. But on retreat we are so clearly working together in the silence to remember and open to the source of life that sustains and contains us all.

And I return to everyday life slightly disoriented. I often feel like I am putting my life on like a suit of slightly strange clothes. I see that I am NOT the things I do or the things I possess. All of this doing and having are temporary condition and not the essential thing. So I put on the clothes of my many roles with new appreciation of their ephemeral quality. And I vow to remember the essential as I move as kindly and truthfully as I can through this amazing and varied world of life.