This blog is the part of a series where I will share a selection of the daily dhamma data collection/ exercises, which I committed to for the 2018 Vassa period.  Today’s selection will all be highlights from the month of October, 2018. For more details on the exercise and commitment, please see the this blog.

Impermanence

• Today I saw two twin looking trees in a field. The same type of tree it seemed, one was all green and the other was going to a vibrant orange. Clearly there is a reason why the leaves change at certain rates, but from my perspective it is totally random and surprising. But ultimately, each tree will change, albeit in its own time. Even if in the same town, same street, same tree the leaves go at different rates. Like me, like people, we all decay and die, but at different times and rates.

• I sent in a photo order to CVS and I got an email it was received. But, when I went to the store, they had no record of the order. I went back to work and looked at the email and it said the pics were sent to the CVS across the street. But them not being here suggests some fault in either the system or the store.

• I got a stain on my favorite pink skirt. I took it to the bathroom sink and scrubbed at it, washed it, wrung it out, scrubbed again – I honestly got flush and worked-up a sweat. When I glanced-up, I caught a picture of myself in the mirror – I looked like a sweaty, haggard, middle aged woman – not the pretty pink pixie I imagine that skirt makes me. So which is it? Why, when I see the skirt, do I only imagine/remember the moments I looked so adorable with it, and not the ones where I looked sloppy in a stained skirt, labored to clean it, looked older and more worn in its presence?

• A maintenance guy was in the elevator today with a ceiling light shade that had cracked. I saw it broken and it made me wonder exactly how something so high-up, so “normal used” got broken.

• I had sat down on the plane and the guy in the seat next to me was pretty big, I had not so much room. I resolved myself to the situation and then him and his more petite wife changed seats, impermanence in my favor.

• Today I saw two twin looking trees in a field. The same type of tree it seemed, one was all green and the other was going to a vibrant orange. Clearly there is a reason why the leaves change at certain rates, but from my perspective it is totally random and surprising. But ultimately, each tree will change, albeit in its own time. Even if in the same town, same street, same tree the leaves go at different rates. Like me, like people, we all decay and die, but at different times and rates.

• I was on the bus last night and it just skipped a stop, it was never announced, the bus just rolled by. I couldn’t decide if I should be annoyed with the driver or if I should be annoyed with myself for accidently getting on the wrong bus. When I got off, I checked the route map and sure enough the stop was just skipped.

• Yesterday I went to see my old neighbors at their place and went by my old house. It felt so strange to look at the details that were so familiar to me: cracks in the stairs, the weeds that grow next to the garage door. I miss it. When we owned it, the mineness of it felt so real. Now, I know it is not mine. I can’t just walk-in and sit by the fire.  I can’t make new memories, or have a future there. It really made me think  of how convincing the miness can feel, and still be totally wrong. Afterall, if it isn’t mine now – if I can’t prove anything about myself with the address, if I can’t have a future I imagine there, was it really mine before? Can I prove something about myself with an address I am going to move from? Was the future I imagined what came to pass? I thought I would grow old in that home…

Lack of Control

• I have the worst heartburn from the sushi burrito I had for lunch and yet, I still have half a roll sitting on my desk. I want the flavor of the roll, but not the heartburn that ensues. But I can’t make the food be everything I want and I can’t make my body react exactly as I want.

• The AC is leaking in the Manhattan place. It’s so annoying, I hate that place, I just want it gone, and it seems like shit keeps breaking there every week. The idea that the house was going to be a center point of some great, charmed NY life was so so so wrong. Instead, it is just a vestige, a reminder of the mistake we made moving. That and a ton of work for something we are trying so hard to sell and be rid of.

• I saw a woman dressed so adorable/fancy on the bus this AM: Pink furs, pink sparkles, rose skirt, she was dressed just adorably. Then I noticed she was talking to herself in a crazy way. Other folks noticed too and everyone else on the bus was shifting around uncomfortably. That outfit wasn’t making the woman a person others on the bus liked, or wanted to be around. So what about my own pretty outfits? If hers don’t make her desirable and likable, how can I be so sure mine work for me?

• Because my new phone doesn’t fit in my wristlet, I’m trying to find a new wristlet. My phone controls my actions. As I scour the net for the “perfect bag”, it hits me…I feel annoyed. I don’t want to have to do all this work to get a bag. They are all the same basically, so why are there so many styles and colors and brands to choose from? I feel oppressed by the choice. Presumably, I have the choice to control my image, my identity with this prop, but instead even the act of selecting it controls me and my emotions.

• I started compiling stuff to consign today and I saw a belt I have barely worn, but it is frayed. Just worn out from storage and handling. It makes me see I keep these “precious” items because their so “precious”, but even just having them, without wearing them, can lead to their decay, it can lead to a loss in value or desirability. Why not just get rid of it now, why store and cling like value is somehow fixed and will live in that item forever?

• When I was in the dentist chair today, I felt out of control. It’s my tooth, my body, but I was at the mercy of the dentist. But here is the thing — am I ever actually in control? I think it’s my body, my life, my world. I feel ok when I have the illusion of control. I feel afraid when I believe I don’t have control. But if I see my life outside of the dentist’s chair as ‘under my control’ it misses the facts; my tooth cracked in the first place because I don’t control it. To try and fix the tooth, I need to render control to a professional to help. There was never a point I was in control, so why the sense of dread only some of the time?

• I looked at the retirement account this morning and we are down by many thousands of dollars. I did nothing, money just sat in the acct. and we lost it due to market forces. We worked to make it, worked to keep it, but now it is gone without any effort on our part.

Not So Special Now Are Ya?

• I was talking to a friend the other night. Back when she was depressed and unemployed she called all the time. She needed me. She affirmed me. She made me feel like my own experiences of being jobless and depressed were all right and normal. We were in it together. Now she is employed again and loves her new job. I had to call her because I hadn’t heard from her in 2 months. I am happy she is thriving, but it’s so clear that her need for me, our re-kindled closeness, was a matter of circumstance. When it changed, so too did the relationship and expectations. How can I use people, friends, to confirm my own specialness when the changed circumstances dictate the attention I receive and the resulting sense of specialness I feel?

• I was talking to a friend who had retired recently, leaving behind the company she herself started. She was heartbroken and depressed. As she spoke it was clear that in leaving behind her company she felt like she had lost part of herself, who she is. It makes me see, she defined special (value) by a role. I do too — my role as daughter, sister, employee, wife. But the roles, as my friend’s retirement shows, change and end. If something is just a temporary role, how can it be what defines us, makes us who we are?

• I was running late for the dentist and I decided to J-walk in NY. As I was going, the driver of the car I cut-off just looked at me and signaled that I had a red light. I just shrugged and kept moving. In that shrug was the truth–I don’t give a fuck. I have somewhere to be and the driver’s life circumstances were unimportant to me. But, that’s the very quality I hate in NY, NYers, the idea that other people don’t matter, social decorum, consideration don’t matter. People litter and honk because they don’t care about the impact of their actions on others; but wasn’t I doing the same thing with the J-walking today. I’m just as bad, I have my reasons and they have theirs. Moreover, I imagine a polite, orderly world is ideal, it is the standard I seek, the deviation from that standard is what feels unsafe, what I judge harshly. But I can’t even uphold my standard, I didn’t even care to. It’s not just whether I can judge others, and expect them to do what I don’t do, it’s more — if even me, with my strong values, my strong will, my desire for order can’t uphold proper decorum, being a good citizen all the time, is it even possible? Is the world I want doable when even I slack in the doing? I sometimes act like my will alone can bring about some environment or outcome I want…but it doesn’t even bring it about in me all the time.

• Driving through Vermont today, I felt my heart want to move here, to be here, to experience this life. My imagination started working in a flash. If I move here, a place that is so ‘me’, I will have a nice, safe life. But the truth is, I have moved so many times. Each time I expect something new and good. Each time I get reality– a mix of ups and downs. And no matter what, desire and insatiaty and loss. Of course, NY and Houston and Atlanta are different in their trappings and details, but essentially the experience, the story arch of my life is the same. What new do I think I can really find in Vermont?

• I saw a dove on the deck today and thought, “hello pretty bird”. Then I thought, “doves are just prettier, glorified pigeons.” The more I thought on it, I wondered in the grand scheme of things, what is being a pretty bird really worth? The dove has the same circumstances as the pigeon, trying to survive in NY, to get by. I see myself as a ‘pretty bird’, it is part of what makes me think I’m special, it is a trait I so desperately cling to, even as my struggle to stave off aging and decay grow more difficult by the year. But like a dove, I’m basically the same as other ‘birds’ (ie people). I struggle to get by in this world, looking for ways to thrive at best, survive at least, in a world that requires so much effort for both.