People, People, People OR The Buddha was Right… Again

One of the rules in the Vinaya (the Buddhist monastic code) prohibits Bhikkhunis/Bhikkhus from storing food.  At first glance, the rule made no sense to me. Sure there could have been a practical reason at the time of the Buddha, no refrigeration in a very hot climate, but this seemed like another of the rules that were anachronistic in the modern era.  Upon reflection, I see that the intention behind the rule is as wise today as it was 2600 years ago.

For the past 6 weeks I’ve been living in an “off-the-grid” Buddhist Monastic forest hermitage. As I’ve said before, the only thing that this makes this even 20^th century living is the ability to make fire on demand (and the trusty but slow satellite internet connection). 

The mind always seeks to normalize experience, it always attempts to achieve homeostasis. And so going to the bathroom outside, sleeping on the floor, waking up in the cold, having literally everything take more energy than it does “in the world” have become normal to me. 

The aspects about this experience that were very challenging at first are not a big deal anymore. I‘ve even reached détente with the food situation. Meager on occasion, plentiful rarely and generally not having quite as much to eat in a day as would be optimal.

What has been unwaveringly challenging, and will certainly remain so to the last, is being in community with the other people here. 

Living in a Buddhist monastic community has it own set of mores and cultural conventions. One would never allow anger to manifest into explicit behavior, subtle may slip out if one lets mindfulness slip, but a genuine display of anger would be really, really bad form. 

There have been numerous occasions when I’ve wanted to say to an individual here “honey you are really working my last nerve” and I must admit to once having had the thought “shut the F*** up!”. 

But, of course I restrained myself. Thought about compassion for the other person and myself, tried to think about the thing that was frustrating to me from a non-self point of view. And, as is one of the (3) characteristics of this existence, the frustration was impermanent and passed away (until the next time since I’m only human).

So what does all of this have to do with the genius of the prohibition on storing food?

The service experience immediately preceding this was a 30 day silent work retreat at the Forest Refuge in Barre, MA. For 30 days I had virtually no interaction with other people, I did have reaction to other people (the story of the woman I came to call “slow mo” in my mind is a blog entry for another day). The 30 days there were easy, breezy time. Outside of my 3-4 hours of service commitment each day my time was my own, my practice was my own, my world was my own.

And that’s the point…

Not having the ability to store food forces monastics to interact with other people; it precludes the ability to live as a true hermit and to give in to the temptation (which can become rationalization) that solitary practice is allowing for such deep states of meditation and insight that there is no need to interact with others.

But, what I’ve found is that it is exactly this interaction that causes the uncomfortable but oh so beneficial friction. THIS is where the practice is. 

Being with the discomfort,  practicing kushanti paramita (the perfection of patience and forbearance), cultivating  metta (loving-kindness) and compassion is most effectively done in relation to others; precisely because they drive us crazy!

So, the Buddha was right, again.

Now if only someone could explain the modern day reasoning for allowables (the only sustenance allowed to be consumed after the mid-day meal) being solely cheese, chocolate and sugar he’d be “batting 1000” in my book.