Remembering Confidence

“Where do FAITH and CONFIDENCE come from? In other religions, people rely on God, Jesus, Allah – and Zen Buddhists rely on something “non-dual” that’s hard to express in words… what is it? What is it?” from an email from a friend

The great 9^th century Chinese Zen Master Linji taught that each one of us is already a Buddha—already awake. The problem is that we are sure that we are lacking something so we run off searching somewhere else for what is already here. Our frantic searching leads us away from the very life which is freely given to us in each moment. Linji says: ‘It’s only because you lack confidence that you seek something outside of yourself.’

Paradoxically, part of our spiritual journey is giving up looking elsewhere. What if it’s true that you already have everything you need? What if it’s true that the place you have been longing for all your life is right where you are? For most of us, this doesn’t really make sense as the truth of our deficiency feels quite self-evident. Many of us feel ‘I am clearly not wise enough, grounded enough, patient enough, loving enough.’

So, as my friend asks, how do we find the confidence that Linji speaks of? The confidence to wait and be present right where we are, when the circumstances of the moment can be exceedingly unpleasant? The confidence to do what it is we know we should do but are resisting?

The English word ‘confidence’ comes from the Latin roots of ‘con’ ‘fideles’ which mean with fidelity or with authenticity. Confidence is not the same as arrogance, but rather it is a commitment to be fully present right where you are. Sometimes this means stepping forward and opening your mouth. Sometimes this means staying put right where you are and not saying a word. We can be fearful or at ease and still follow through on what we are called to do. Confidence is not as much a set of feelings as it is a willingness to show up as yourself and see what happens.

True confidence comes from remembering. Remembering, or recollecting, is one of the essential practices of many spiritual traditions. As human beings we are sometimes deeply touched and inspired by something more than ourselves. In these moments we may feel a certainty and clear direction for our lives. But these moments come and go. In the morning I remember that I want to give my life wholeheartedly to whatever arises during the day. By lunch I am lost in worry about the many tasks on my to-do list that are still undone.

So when I flag in my confidence, when I lose my sense of direction and commitment, I can stop and turn inward. Stopping and taking a moment to experience myself right where I am. What am I feeling? What are the sensations in my body? What are the thoughts going through my mind? What is here right now? This stopping and touching what is already here is touching the ground of truth in this moment.

Then, I turn toward my purpose or my deeper intention. What is it I really want? What is the purpose I want to dedicate my life to? What is most important in this fleeting life? For me, when I remember this deeper source, I often feel both a sense of relief and direction.

After stopping and remembering, is simply to do the next thing. We don’t have to wait to feel a certain way or to have some major revelation. Once we touch that deeper source, at whatever level is available to us, we just take the next step. Just make the phone call. Just cook dinner. Just sit down and do nothing.

Organizing My Self

On my virtual calendar, each month is a clearly demarcated grid of five rows of seven boxes stacked one upon the other. Each box has a number, starting at one and usually going to thirty or thirty-one. In the box that represents ‘today’, the number is held in a small circle of blue to set it apart from all the other numbers on the grid. In the boxes to the left and above, the numbers are all faded. I call this ‘the past’. The higher numbers, to the right and below, are ‘the future’. They appear in dark type and each contains more numbers marked ‘am’ and ‘pm’ as well as a few cryptic words.

When I switch to the weekly view, the grid shifts. Now larger numbers range across the top of seven columns, advancing right to left. Above each number is a three-letter name. SUN, through SAT. As in the view of the month, the number for the day I call ‘today’ is highlighted with a blue circle. To the left is all washed out but today and the rest of the week are still vivid.

I faithfully consult my virtual calendar. The weekly view is quite colorful. My various appointments and commitments indicated by bright boxes holding white type with someone’s name or the description of the activity I am supposed to be participating in. On my calendar, green represents my coaching clients, red indicates activities related my role as a Zen teacher, blue is personal and purple is everything that is tentative.

The most amazing part of my calendar is that each day when I wake up, it has already been filled in. This is the work of my past self. He is a shadowy figure who I can never quite get a hold of. I sometimes think of him my personal assistant. Mostly he makes good decisions but he does have the tendency to over schedule me. Looking ahead at some full days, I question his sanity. His enthusiasm, while admirable, does not always take into account the full complexity of things, nor the fact that life itself is nowhere near as neat as the colorful boxes he uses to order me around. But I keep him on because I can’t find anyone else to do the job.

I have tried to explain this all to my fourteen-month-old grandson, but he seems more interested in pushing small plastic objects through the appropriately shaped openings and in digging random holes in the garden beds. I suppose he’ll learn eventually.

In New Territory

I’ve been writing and posting daily for over a month now. At first, it was quite exciting and I was so filled with ideas that I had to keep a list of everything I couldn’t write about. The possibility of helping others (and myself) through a time of crisis was a strong motivation—strong enough to move me into action. I’ve now run out of low hanging fruit. Most mornings now, I wake up early without a clear sense of what is important enough to write about. I wonder if I am just writing to prove something to myself or if I really have something worthwhile to contribute.

As the stay-at-home orders remain in place in this semi-indefinite way, the initial adrenaline that fired me up is gone. At first, I felt a clear purpose; to survive and to help others during this time of crisis. But crisis, when it goes on for more than a few weeks, becomes life itself. The burst of energy we needed to psychologically and physically survive the radical change has come and gone—like a rocket booster that burns to get the ship into orbit and then falls away once we escape from the gravity of what used to be. Now we’re in a new orbit—weightless within the space capsules of our homes and apartments.

When a space ship is in orbit its unimpeded momentum forward is perfectly balanced by its endless falling toward the gravitational center of the object it is orbiting. It is perpetually falling but never crashing into the object it is orbiting because it is simultaneously heading out into the vast emptiness of space. This situation is not really forever because everything eventually slows down. Orbits decay and objects circling around planets eventually fall into the gravitational center.

Are we humans orbiting around some inconceivable center of gravity? In spite of all our stories of self-importance and self-direction are we merely following the trajectory that was set in motion before we came into being? Perhaps our lives really just an endless falling that is both free and constrained. Freely orbiting, we are headed toward our eventual unification with that center of gravity when we will fall from our life of orbit. Will we eventually burn up and come to rest in the center itself?

But I digress.

This place of uncertainty is (as I just demonstrated) actually quite an interesting place. I don’t like it as much as the beginning place. I’ve lost a certain sense of confidence and purpose. Some things I say and write feel quite clear and of obvious value. But as I move into this new territory, I’m not as clear. While I like the initial energy of new beginnings, this place of less clarity, if I can bear the uncertainty, is where something truly new is more likely to emerge.

My prayer is that my actions (and yours) might be of service to something larger than ourselves. That in this territory of uncertainty we may be guided and protected. That we may use our lives to support each other on this journey of being human.

In This Together?

I check the local numbers every day. And I’m not talking about the state lottery. It’s now the COVID-19 lottery. Though life is always subject to random events, this aspect of chance looms greater in our lives. Whether I get infected depends on a number of factors, many of which are out of my control. I can wear my mask and keep my six-foot distance when I go out. I can wash my hands religiously and watch Netflix endlessly. But I am still at risk.

A number of years ago, a doctor at Ground Rounds at UMass Memorial Hospital said that your health outcomes are dependent on three factors: genetics, behavior and chance. First is the physical constitution you are born with. Next is the food you eat, the exercise you get and how you care for yourself. Then there is what happens. Perfectly healthy people who that eat well and exercise regularly come down with terminal diseases along with everyone else.

But another factor that determines how healthy you are is becoming more obvious as researchers begin to look more closely at who is getting infected with COVID-19 and how severe the impact. Your race.

We have known from quite early on in the pandemic that older people and people with pre-existing medical conditions are more at risk for serious medical conditions and death from COVID-19. Recently, however, researchers have reported that the Black and Latinx populations are getting infected and dying at significantly higher rates than the white population. In New York City, Black and Latinx are being killed at twice the rate as white people.  In Massachusetts, recently released data shows that Black and Latinx people were twice as likely to be diagnosed with COVID-19 as white people. What is going on here?

The COVID-19 virus does not appear to operate differently in Black and Latinx communities, but rather a consistent lack of access to health care and conditions that foster healthy conditions have put these communities more at risk. People in Black and Latinx communities are much more likely to have pre-existing health conditions that put them at risk and much less likely to have access to health care to help them meet these challenges. David Williams, a professor of public health at Harvard put it this way: “Coronavirus has not created health disparities. What it has done is highlight these disparities.”

We’re all in this together, but if you’re rich or famous, you can get tested if you’re concerned you might have the virus. The rest of us have to wait. We’re all in this together, but if you happen to be white or have a large savings account or live in a house with lots of space around it, you don’t have to be quite as worried.

We do depend on each other to work together to slow the spread of COVID-19. We need to care for whoever is afflicted by the virus and its many impacts; physical, economic and personal. These are difficult times. But we must also keep our eyes open to what these times are revealing about the disparities that are often invisible to many of us. Can this time be an impetus to change how we view the basic right to health care? Can this time lead us to treat unseen workers that are now so clearly sustaining us with more respect and better working conditions?

We’ll see.

Morning Adventure/Entertainment/Necessity

We went food shopping yesterday. Usually that’s not such a big deal, but these days, it was a major production. We could have held out a little longer, but we were running out of some staples like bread and mayonnaise. We found ourselves with some unexpectedly free time, so we decided to make a run for it.

Our first choice was Trader Joe’s or Shaw’s. The natural food boutique or the big supermarket? We decided on Trader Joe’s because they stock a number of the frozen entrees that we rely on when we want something quick and simple. These items are the descendent of frozen TV dinners of the fifties that used to come in aluminum trays that carefully divided the peas from the mashed potatoes. I know this for sure because we often end up eating them in front of the TV—sitting side-by-side on the couch, watching one of our favorite shows on Netflix or Hulu or Prime.

Then we got our gear together – a scarf and a bandana for improvised face masks, disposable plastic gloves and no bags since the reusable bags that we have so carefully trained ourselves to use are no longer usable. (After we returned from the store, we got two lovely homemade face masks in the mail from a dear friend and then four more disposable face masks from another friend in our community.)

We also chose Trader Joe’s because we had heard they were careful about only letting a certain number of people in the store at one time to enhance the possibility of maintaining a six-foot distance while shopping. Sure enough, when we arrived there at 9:15 there was a line of people waiting to get in. And it was a correctly social distanced line that extended around the side of the building – marked with lines of tape every six feet.

We put up our scarves, donned our gloves and dutifully went to the back of the line. Waiting in line was kind of exciting. It brought back airport memories—as if we were waiting in line to go somewhere amazing. As we got closer to the front of the line we could see people shopping and checking out in the store. We realized we were going someplace amazing!

A place where they have all manner of delicious food on the shelves—where you put whatever you want into a large rolling container and then get to take it home with you. They even check every item on their scanner and put it all in double brown paper bags for you. The only thing they ask for in return is a particular kind of plastic card they want for a moment, but other than that, they just give you the stuff.

Shopping itself was, however, a little harrowing for me. Though the shelves were filled to the brim, I was uneasy. How do I make sure we get enough so we don’t have to return and expose ourselves again for several weeks? I did my best not to adjust the handkerchief I had worn over my nose and mouth but it was nearly impossible. I tried to stay away from other shoppers. Many were wearing mask, but some were not. Though there were just twenty-five shoppers in the store and perhaps fifteen workers, odds were good that at least one of us already had the corona virus and didn’t yet know it. In fact, I would guess that at least several, perhaps a dozen or more of us were already carrying this virus that has turned our daily routines upside down. How to stay safe from this invisible danger?

I was happy when we wheeled our loaded shopping cart up to the cashier, then waited behind the taped line as she unloaded, scanned and bagged our carefully chosen haul. We then wheeled the bags out in two shopping carts and returned to the safe confines of our home. We wiped most things down as we unpacked and left the bags themselves to self-sanitize overnight.

I am grateful to the farmers and the pickers and the truck drivers and the store workers who continue to do their jobs—who continue to expose themselves to viral risk every day. These usually unseen friends support our health and our lives. They are the foundation of all we do. May they all be safe and protected through this time of danger.