My Search for the Bodhi Tree

The below post has been moved to its own blog at Search For The Bodhi Tree Follow me and my journey there.

Much like the process I am about to start, which is proving to be more difficult than I anticipated, starting this introductory essay has proven to be more difficult than I imagined it would be. Figuring out what angle to come at it from, deciding which aspects of my current life to offer up for examination, trying to come up with an interesting or compelling opening—I’ve changed and re-changed my mind a dozen times. The only thing that has been consistent is my intent—and I mean both in writing this essay and in beginning the process. So, let’s take care of the first thing, the small thing, what I am sure is the easy thing—the essay.

My life sucks. Not completely and not as badly as probably tens of millions of other peoples’ lives, but more than I want it to, more than I am willing to accept. When I say my life sucks I do not mean just in the conventional ways like my “girlfriend broke up with me,” “my car is about to die,” “my daughter talks back to me and won’t do her homework,” although those, too, are a part of it. I mean it sucks in a broader, deeper sense. Maybe I should say my world sucks, or my history sucks, or my tradition, or my culture. Or, to be more accurate, my existence within my history, my tradition, my culture sucks. It’s no fun. There’s no peace. There’s no fulfillment. Think of the poor Dunkin Donuts guy who had to make the donuts every day and came home every night in the same depressed plodding fashion. There was no joy in his tradition, his history of making the donuts had brought him no peace. His was a life of repetition, of pattern behavior that required very little active involvement on his part. He existed, surely, but there was little proof he was alive. That’s what I think I’m thinking about when I say my life sucks.

Now here’s where I could go in one of two directions. I could go in search of new experiences and hope that a sense of fulfillment and meaning, or peace of mind, or even happiness will be found there. Perhaps all that is missing from my life is a well timed sky diving trip or a monthly bungee jump. Maybe an annual vacation to a different place each year would un-suck my life. Sounds promising. Such things make for great daydreams. But what about all the times in between? Once the bungee cord stops bouncing will I be anywhere different than I was before? Probably not. While those things sound fun and are worthy of pursuing in their own right, they appear too temporary for me. The sense of pleasure or enjoyment I may derive from such experiences is tied directly to those events and I’m still stuck with bridging the gaps the lie between each activity. I need something more permanent. I need something that is created within me and goes with me wherever I go, regardless of what I am doing. I need whatever lies in the other direction.

So, what lies in the other direction? I’d say all conventional religions do. But those hold little interest for me anymore. I’ve grown tired of the guilt and shame factor associated with them. I was raised Catholic and I was taught at an early age that I was a sinner, had been born with “original sin” in fact—a sin on my soul before I had even taken my first breath, let alone had an opportunity to make my first mistake. I remember the dread I felt each week when my father took me to confession, shaking in fear as I approached the confessional, an eight year old boy with little knowledge of what he had done wrong except that it was really, really bad. I remember standing in line with the other sinners, each of us looking in any direction except at each other, too ashamed to make eye contact. I had a standard list of “sins” I would recite in the confessional each week just to have something to say, because I wasn’t really sure what my sins might be. I had built this list from the things my mother chastised me for repeatedly: “Bless me father for I have sinned. I fought with my brother. I disobeyed my mother. I lied to my father.” And I left the confessional with a handful of Hail Marys and Our Fathers to recite and a week’s worth of shame and guilt to lug around.

Even in my non-practicing mode I am subjected to the shame and guilt that is conventional Christian practice as reflected in others. A friend tells me the bad things in her life are punishment from God for not doing what she was supposed to do, for going against “His plan.” In the next breath the bad things are trials that God has placed before her to test her faith and resolve. In either case, she is miserable, in a near constant guilt-stricken state. I wonder at a god who professes to love a people he made too flawed to reach the level of perfection he demands of them and then threatens them with eternal damnation should they not repent constantly for that failure. It seems a sick joke to me for God to create us all as five foot six inch white guys and then demand we dunk our way into heaven. If fulfillment and happiness and peace of mind can only come from groveling at the feet of a “just and angry” god, then I need to look elsewhere for my answers.

So that’s what I did, started looking elsewhere for answers. If what I was seeking wasn’t to be found in material things or physical experiences, and if what I was seeking wasn’t to be found in conventional western style religions, I figured there was only one place left to look, and that was inside of me. I’ve always been introspective anyway, nearly to a fault at times, so it seemed almost too natural to seek out a path that was centered on improving myself from the inside—working on my inner condition, the way I view and respond to the world around me. The ability to un-suck my life requires nothing more than what I have with me every moment of every day—just me. No physical objects, no changes in my external circumstances, no third party to grant me forgiveness or bestow blessings upon me, just me.

And so here over however long it continues I plan to chronicle my exploration and practice of the Buddhist philosophy. I hope not to attract too many detractors, too many people challenging or condemning my current view of the religion they practice. I’m not interested in who’s got the better god, or whose path leads straighter to heaven or hell. These are my experiences based on my search and my journey. Come along if you like, but don’t try to convince me to turn back or veer off in another direction. You’ll just be wasting your time, and mine.