Attempting ‘Zen’
“Most of our troubles are due to our passionate desire for and attachment to things that we misapprehend as enduring entities.”
‘Dalai Lama
I think I was a monk in a past life.
Let me elaborate.
Not too long ago, I did a Buddha count.
There were 20.
Some were barely noticeable, like a 1-inch Buddha sitting on an incense holder, a handful of mid-sized ones, and a few towering peacefully at 5ft tall.
One life-size Buddha was left outside, where children and adults began placing trinkets and prayers in his folded hands.
As a good neighbour does, he permeated a spirit of sweetness by being there.
One day Buddha was stolen, and my spiritual beliefs were tested.
Non- attachment is a fundamental belief and practice in Buddhism. It’s also a belief I practice as a yogi.
Non-attachment means the willingness to possess nothing but to enjoy everything while it’s there, including the people we love, the places we live, and the things we use.
I used to imagine a person who could detach easily as cold and aloof, gifted with the ability not to care as much as others.
Until I practiced detaching.
Yet, sometimes, old habits die hard, and this particular statue was unique. The inner battle was formidable.
I’d lovingly chosen it from several others, paid for it with my hard-earned money, and placed him beside my pink rose bush.
He was mine, and then he wasn’t.
After a few days of wallowing in frustration and aggravation, I patiently reminded myself of the duality of life.
Life is a mix of moments: Light and dark, sun and moon, happy and sad, up and down, ebb and flow, Buddha and no Buddha.
Budhha flowed into my life and then ebbed into someone else’s.
I could stay angry and whine about the injustice or decide it was meant to be.
The person who stole Buddha needed him more than me.
Once I let go and accepted my new reality, I could only laugh about it. And, the practical part of me considered my naivety, not pinning it down to the cement.
I’m sharing this story because I realized at that moment that so much of our suffering is due to hanging on.
Hanging on to what could have been or what we could have said or done differently, thinking by doing so, our lives would be better.
The reality is, we only know what we know when we know it.
I’m enjoying learning about Zen. I’m observing my reactions to what happens to me and learning from those observations.
For example, I initially felt angry, and if I’d stayed angry, Zen would suggest I’m attached to the statue and now suffering because it’s gone.
The saying ‘It is what it is’ can be annoying, but it’s saved me from acute suffering. I’m certainly not a Zen master, or even ‘Kung Fu Panda’, for that matter.
But I’ve been suffering less by letting go, a little at a time.
TAKEAWAY: Consider your relationship to attachment. Watch your thoughts when life doesn’t go according to plan. What would it feel like to let go and let someone trustworthy take the reins in a situation when you’d usually exert control? My suggestion: start by imagining letting go if the physical act is a stretch. Will we ever feel comfortable letting go and living detached? I don’t know, but it’s worth a try to experience greater happiness.
Thanks for reading my amateur attempt at Zen.
Until next month,
Shana Lee