Zen-Journal

Mindful Planning and Living

Main navigation

Archives for July 2014

7 Insights from my Month-Long Facebook Fast

by 11 Comments

On August 1, I’ll sign on to Facebook for the first time in a month. In late June, I made a decision to take a month away from the social media giant simply because it had become an unproductive use of my time as well as a source of frustration.

I’d become frustrated with the incessant blathering and info-graphics that were so lacking in creativity that I wanted to scream.  What began as a tool for keeping in touch with my children, grandchildren, and friends spiraled downward into a plethora of ubiquitous nonsense.

As a result, I made the decision to take a month-long Facebook fast. Some of my friends joked that I’d checked myself into the Mark Zuckerberg Center for Facebook Disorders.

Comments on that particular thread (that I learned of via phone calls and text messages) revealed predictions about me wearing gray crew-neck pullovers while receiving therapy for my problem and my absence being solely responsible for the dip in Facebook stock prices.   😎

The truth about my Facebook fast

While all of this makes for creative Facebook entertainment, it remains far from the truth. The truth is I didn’t feel my Facebook activity was an addiction nor a dependency. But I did feel increasingly bothered by the time I spent there and it seemed specific to Facebook.

Facebook affected me in a negative manner, that much was clear. I needed to understand why.

So I took a break. I uninstalled the Facebook app on my smartphone and committed to not logging on while on my Mac for any reason. I was faithful to this promise and the only time I saw the familiar blue interface was in passing glances at laptops of those sitting in coffee shops. I made Safari my default browser replacing Chrome so I wouldn’t see the number of updates in the toolbar.

And so began the month-long experiment.

What I learned during my Facebook fast

I learned a lot about myself in the process of not being distracted by Facebook. Seven of these personal insights include the following.

  1. I have limited patience for intellectual laziness. While I’m no Hawking or Einstein, I’m an intelligent person and am always seeking to stretch my mind to new ideas and experiences. I have difficulty tolerating drivel from those who resist intellectual growth and instead rely on false ideas, popular dogma, and illogical positions.
  2. I didn’t miss Facebook as much as I’d anticipated. Sorry, Mark but it’s true. I didn’t miss it very much at all. What this told me was that the content I was used to seeing in my news stream was, for the most part, lacking any real importance. I didn’t miss the endless stream of prayer requests and photos of food. Rude? Maybe, but it remains true.
  3. My true friends are few in number.  Now before you think I’m crying woe is me, the opposite is actually the case. I had more actual face-to-face encounters with more real friends in July that I have in months. Being an introverted and solitary type who is more prone to periods of isolation than frequent social gatherings, these encounters took their toll. At one point I realized that so much human activity was mentally exhausting for me. Fewer friends is a good thing for me. I can only take real people in small doses.
  4. I was more productive in July than I have been in months. I’ve written more often, written better material, was hired for a consulting gig out of town and reinforced my meditation practice. In fact, I ordered a zafu meditation pillow and mat set just yesterday. Just looking at this lesson is enough to make me want to take another Facebook fast!
  5. I was pissed off less frequently. I mentioned that Facebook had become a source of frustration; the root of this frustration is the material I read that, well…pisses me off. Mainly it has to do with dogma, conservative politics, and other ideas that I find illogical and void of compassion. I still got pissed at people, things, events, and myself on occasion. But the sources of my pissiness didn’t originate from Facebook. It stemmed from real life. What a concept!
  6. I read more often. Time on Facebook is time I’m not reading quality material. I’ve always been a reader. I realized long after college and graduate school when reading was crammed down my throat, that voluntary reading was how I was going to feed my mind. In my opinion, if you’re not reading quality books (whether they’re digital or physical), you’re not growing. Reading Facebook posts isn’t reading; it’s mind-numbing passivity at it’s worst. I doubt anyone will ever admit on their deathbed that they wish they’d read less or posted more photos of sautéed tofu….said the guy who loves tofu.
  7. I lived more mindfully. This is perhaps the most important insight I experienced during my time away from Facebook.  Mindfulness is the ability to experience the present moment in its fullness. I can practice mindfulness while eating; having coffee, conversing with a friend, while writing, walking, even riding my motorcycle. But I can’t practice mindfulness while reading Facebook. In fact, spending time on Facebook made me less mindful.

For me, living apart from the practice of mindfulness is a life closer to intellectual twerking.

Will I go back to Facebook?

That’s a very good question. Having considered the insights above and the reasons I began interacting on Facebook in the first place, if I return to Facebook my time there will be guided by the following principles:

  • My phone will remain Facebook free
  • I’ll not log on more than twice a week
  • I’ll focus on posting on the pages for my creative ventures
  • I’ll declutter my friends list
  • I’ll post only what I feel will add value to readers

Value is the key

Add value, receive value. That should be the mantra for Facebook users everywhere. Imagine how your Facebook time might change if you made that your filter.  😎

How Christopher Hitchens Helped Me Meditate for 4.5 hours

by 1 Comment

I know what you’re thinking

Christopher Hitchens, that eloquent, pragmatic, atheistic journalist and literary critic, is well…dead. And you’re right. Sadly, Mr. Hitchens succumbed to the sequela of esophageal cancer in December of 2011.

Here’s how it happened

 

I left home in Santa Cruz this morning at 06:30. I’m consulting for the next few weeks for a firm in Southern California and this morning, after working a week from home, I rode my minimally packed BMW 1150GS south along the Pacific Coast Highway.

As a matter of practice, I listen to music via some wonderful Bose earbuds while walking Buddy, cleaning the house, lifting weights, and riding my motorcycle. For today’s journey, I was set to engage a Jackson Browne playlist but the at the last minute changed my mind in favor of an audiobook.

The book in question was one of my favorite Hitchens’ works, God Is Not Great. I read the hardback and still have it in my bookcase despite a few #MinsGame donations that significantly scaled back my bookshelf contents. The audio-book was in my Audible.com account already and I thought the 8-hour listen time was perfect for the day’s riding.

While I have no problem discerning lyrics and chord progressions at 75 m.p.h. inside my full-face helmet, the spoken word, at least as recorded by Christopher Hitchens, proved a bit more difficult. I attempted to adjust the volume on my phone while riding and instead of boosting the volume, I somehow cut off the device altogether.

Destination, definitely known

I’m very destination oriented when I ride. I’d love to be the carefree motorcyclist that frequently stops to take gorgeous photos around every few bends in the road, but I simply am not. Although I did stop to take this photo today of my bike and James Dean, having stopped for fuel near the intersection where he died in a fiery crash in 1955.

 

Because of this destination oriented riding style, I was loathed to pull over and stop to adjust the phone settings. I made this decision because, 1) I don’t like stopping unless it’s for a good reason, and 2) see reason #1.

I rode on in relative silence; no music, no Jackson Browne…only my thoughts and the sound of air rushing by my helmet as well as the soft roar of my BMW. Then, a funny thing happened.

Meditating at 75 m.p.h.

I started meditating as I rode.

My body was mainly motionless, my eyes focused on the road with my transient thoughts arising and falling away like they do in a more formal meditation setting.

I can ride for about 90 minutes before I feel my aging knees start to stiffen. It’s then I look for an appropriate exit and take a break. I repeated this ride-meditate-rest pattern three times.  Each meditation session was approximately 90 minutes and my rest periods about 20 minutes.

Each time I rode off the highway to a safe resting place, I doubted that I’d be able to meditate again so soon. But each time I was pleasantly surprised.

I can’t recall another time when I’ve meditated 4+ hours in one day. It was liberating.

Not a daily habit

I’m not of such naïveté to think I can do this every day. I don’t have the time in my current life to meditate for 4.5 hours each day. My meditation practice isn’t at that level…nor do I think that it should be.

Sitting meditation, or zazen, is not something I can physically sit through for any more than an hour at most. That’s where I am in my practice. I don’t feel it’s a strength or a weakness. It simply is.

In about a week’s time, I’ll be riding the 400 miles home to Santa Cruz. Perhaps I’ll have a different experience this time, or maybe it will be similar. Either way, it will be good.

However, on the return trip, I definitely think Jackson Browne will make an appearance.  😎

Discovering My Inner Zen Monk

by 1 Comment

One of the earliest posts on the blog is one called, ‘What’s Your Pulpit of Origin?’ In that post, I point out that most of us come to Buddhism from other traditions. My own pulpits of origin are Christianity and Kriya Yoga.

This week while I’ve been away from home on business, I’ve been reading about Zen Buddhism. And have discovered something interesting.

Practical Buddhism and Zen Buddhism are strikingly similar

In reading the site located at http://zen-buddhism.net, I learned several interesting similarities between Practical Buddhism and its Zen cousin.

  • Zen Buddhism rejects metaphysical theories and rituals and focuses entirely on the practice of Zazen
  • Zen is not a moral teaching, and as it is without dogma, it does not require one to believe in anything
  • Zen Buddhism is not a theory, an idea, or a piece of knowledge. It is not a belief, a dogma, or a religion; but rather, it is a practical experience
  • Zen is Zazen or Zen meditation (za meaning sitting, and Zen meaning meditation in Japanese), or seated meditation
  •  Zen is very cautious towards those answer-givers who claim to know the truth about God, the afterlife, reincarnation, spiritualism, etc.
  • Zen does not seek to answer subjective questions because these are not important issues for Zen
  • Zen firmly [maintains] that nobody knows the answers to those questions and that they are impossible to answer because of our limited condition
  • Zen gladly accepts the idea that men are only men and nothing more

The difference

The only difference that I can see between Zen and Practical Buddhism is that Practical Buddhism includes an equal mindfulness and compassionate kindness as active practices in addition to meditation.

While the Zen Buddhist practitioner most likely would agree that these additional active practices are indeed fruits of zazen, the Practical Buddhist pursues all three active practices.

What this changes

Nothing. Zen is Zen.

Essential Buddhist Practice

by

In my experience, Buddhist practice is actively engaging with life in the present moment.

Nothing else really matters…ritual, ceremony, week-long retreats… they all have merit, but they’re largely unnecessary.

I don’t need them to actively engage in the present moment. –The Practical Buddhist

..

..

A Practical Buddhist Response to Violence

by Leave a Comment

Over the course of my life, I’ve been involved in violence many times. As a child, I received spankings, sometimes from my parents and sometimes from teachers and school administrators.

School violence as a child

For about 6 years, I was raised in Texas where in the 1960s corporal punishment was not only used in the correctional system but in public schools as well.

I recall getting spanked in the 5th grade by the Principal of the elementary school I attended. My teacher had accused me of stealing her teacher’s edition textbooks largely because she placed them inside my desk before I arrived. I know this sounds like fiction, but I assure you it was true.

She made a public display of feigning shock when she walked directly over to my desk and opened the top to expose her books hiding there. I was mortified and had no idea how they got there. I started crying immediately. I recall wanting to die right in my seat rather than suffer the embarrassment that I had played no part in generating.

I was marched to the Principal’s office where I was told to bend over while she swatted me on my backside about five or six times with a flat wooden device designed for the sole purpose of causing pain in children.

What violence teaches us

I know this sounds like a guilty child’s defense, but sadly, this is what actually happened to me. I suffered public shame, humiliation, and faced ridicule by all but a few of my closest friends who had witnessed the teacher hurl similar accusations toward me over the preceding months.

When I complained to my parents, they didn’t believe me at first. For months they thought I was lying about what was happening in school. It wasn’t until the father of one of my friends ( a police officer) came over to our house one evening and told my parents the stories his daughter Charlotte had told them about Mrs. Frazier’s behavior toward me. Thank the Universe for Charlotte.

He explained that he and his wife found the tales hard to believe and weren’t convinced at first. It was only when Charlotte had repetitive nightmares reliving the incidents that they spoke up. I was grateful they did.

From those childhood experiences I learned one lesson:

Adults could get mad enough to hit me.

Throughout childhood, I was always a rather small kid and as a result of my small stature dealt with my fair share of bullying. Even into high school (until I grew 6 inches in the span of one summer) I battled getting picked on. I was 17 and nearly 6 feet tall before I felt safe walking through the campus.

These, and other experiences later in adulthood -including having a handgun pointed at my abdomen by a thug robbing a hamburger joint in San Francisco and a relationship marked with domestic violence- renewed within me a fearful outlook on life.

I was afraid in the world and I didn’t like feeling that way. It wasn’t until my forties that I could truly feel comfortable in life, walking in the city, or anywhere in the world.

Violence as a symptom of a groundless life

In the American culture, violence has become commonplace.  Small, defenseless children are being gunned down in cold blood in the sanctity of their kindergarten classrooms. Commuters die in road rage incidents stemming from abrupt lane changes and sudden stops. Playground bullies learn from being bullied at home and in turn seek out and target for retaliation those without adequate defenses.

It’s my position that violence is a symptom of a restless, ungrounded individual, devoid of any sense of innate self-worth or compassion.

Show me any person using a handgun or other weapon of violence, and I’ll show you someone who doesn’t have a sense of self-worth and excess self-loathing. I’ll show you an individual who feels disrespected by most people in his life and devoid of a moral foundation.

I abhor violence. It is a cycle of indifference and lack of self control. It is a symptom ozone who feels totally lost in the world.

There are some who, despite all efforts on the part of society and family, are bent on violence. Perhaps there is no changing this; perhaps genetic predisposition is a possible explanation. I’m not of such naiveté to think all violence can be stopped or prevented.

But I do think that if we are grounded in moral accountability, living in mindful awareness of ourselves and others, and grounded in compassion, we can change our own behavior.

Some think religion is the answer; that if you train a child in a tradition of religious living that they will be spared from the overriding culture of their society. In my experience, religious training serves to make people less sensitive to the needs of others. I’ve seen them go out of their way to avoid people in need of obvious assistance. They are instead focused on the rules and rituals of their own beliefs and rarely go beyond their self-imposed behavioral boundaries.

Real compassion, though rare, is our hope

In my book, The Practical Buddhist, I wrote:

What does it mean to practice compassionate kindness? Compassion is the gift of an honest heart full of love and acceptance.

When one is closed-off, biased, or non-accepting of the whole, they cannot engage in compassionate kindness.

Compassionate kindness is shown in speech, attitude, action, and intention as we survey the Eight-fold Path. When you encounter someone who practices compassionate kindness, you are moved by them. There is something different about them though you might not be able to pinpoint what it is.

I’d characterize His Holiness the Dalai Lama, Mother Teresa, St. Francis of Assisi, Wayne Dyer, Deepak Chopra, and even my youngest son as examples of those in touch with compassionate kindness. Practicing compassionate kindness is a choice anyone can make.

I support the position that compassionate kindness is rare. More often than not, kindness is conditional. But compassionate kindness is the fruit of an open heart. It’s the by-product of inclusive acceptance of all.

Show me someone who is not open-minded and I’ll show you someone who doesn’t engage in compassionate kindness.

Compassionate kindness is the fullest expression of one living as a Practical Buddhist. It’s the result of learning to master the present moment via meditation and the coming back to the present moment via mindfulness.

One feels and is moved by the suffering of others because of compassion; they aid such individuals in need with expressions of kindness.

Compassion and kindness are the antithesis of violence. Together they are more powerful than any weapon.

Neither require a background check,  and both can be carried without a permit.

Can compassion end all violence?

There are no absolutes. There isn’t a cure for all cases of violence.

But compassion is the best prescription that I’m aware of that, when taken regularly, can produce life-altering changes in those who practice it.