Ego, Ergo, I Go
As a practicing Buddhist, I am well aware that my attachment to me is the cause of much, if not all, of my suffering. It’s a tough one to not hold onto. Holding on sounds a bit too gentle of a description of what it is I do. Vice grip grasping might be closer to the point. Obviously, I love talking about me. Telling stories about me. Highlighting my achievements. Boasting, proclaiming, declaring, announcing, pronouncing, asserting my me-ness.
Anan Thubten writes in his book, No Me, No Problem
Doing nothing means renouncing all mental effort, especially the mental effort we make to maintain the illusion of “I”, the illusory separation between me and the other. When we give up this effort, suddenly all illusions go away. We really don’t have to do anything. It’s just a matter of stopping. We simply stop perpetuating and maintaining illusions. Illusions do not have their own life force. They are ready to melt at any moment. It’s just a matter of time. When we wholeheartedly decide not to continue to entertain illusions, they collapse.
No Me No Problem, Ch12
Sounds easy, right? It’s just a matter of stopping. What I keep running into to is that I think “me” is pretty important. Or at least what I think and say is me is important. Of course, holding onto to my thoughts and ideas about me has and does get me into trouble, and invariably causes some upset in those around me. My wife and kids would be the first to tell you that my me-ness often intrudes on them and their own them-ness.
My wife and kids would be the first to tell you that my me-ness often intrudes on them and their own them-ness.
The notion of “my” and what is “mine,” plays a big role in all of this; my ideas, my thoughts, my life. The late, and clearly enlightened, Thrangu Rinpoche told a wonderful story that has stayed with me and I wish were mine. As the story goes, a man looks into the window of a jewelry shop and sees a magnificent watch and immediately thinks to himself, “that’s my watch.” He goes into the shop and asks the proprietor to see the watch and when it is put down in front of him on the velvet swatch, carefully laid out on the countertop by the proprietor, he is told, “the watch is only $25,000.” And even so, the man proclaims, “Oh this is my watch.” He picks it up and puts it on his wrist and gazes it adoringly and says, “Oh this is my watch.” He then takes it off and hands it back to the proprietor, but as he does, the watch slips between their hands and crashes to the floor shattering into pieces. There are two questions that arise: first, “Whose watch is it?” and the second, Thrangu asked, with a broad smile on his face, was “What is my?”
Me and my, it’s what I live for, isn’t it? I do this. I want to accomplish that. I have done so much: I’ve met so many people. I’ve sold so many books. I’ve practiced and taught people to meditate. I’ve got a successful relationship. Oh, how I cling to I and me and my. Why on earth would I want to let go of me?
It should be clear, letting go has never been easy for me, that is until I cleverly figured out that if I wasn’t holding onto me, there would be nothing to let go of. And here is the distinction between realization and actualization, which is similar in kind to owning a house and renting it. From that perspective, I’ve rented a good deal of my Buddhist awareness. I’m not yet a fully qualified owner.
I’ve rented a good deal of my Buddhist awareness. I’m not yet a fully qualified owner.
It’s not just a matter of commitment. I’m more than willing to become an owner. I suspect it’s just that I haven’t yet done the work to qualify for anything beyond realization.
I have actualized some things. Mostly little things. But the big things like non-attachment, groundlessness and egoless, which are all things I realize are at the crux of being a fully actualized practitioner, I guess I’m still pretty far away from.
The Buddhist teachings are full of statements about our already being enlightened. I get that, I just haven’t been able to take that step over and be it. It’s not just being hesitant. Hesitation being something as I’ve defined as a willingness to enter in, like just taking the leap and jumping into a cold pool. It’s that sudden shock my me resists.
I know it just takes exertion, but I’ve found my capacity to exert has diminished as I’ve aged, so I remain mostly realized, but unactualized. It’s a real nowhere place, betwixt and between, which on one level is what all this practice was supposed to deliver, a comfort with groundlessness. When I die and my body and mind, supposedly, performs the great separation, I will allegedly be thrust into a state of groundlessness, that, unless I have practiced diligently to stabilize my mind, everything becomes absolutely terrifying. One would think that would be motivation enough to exert myself to rid myself of my meness. I have never liked being terrified. But letting go of me feels nearly as scary.
What would I be without me? I suspect not nearly as interesting as I think I am, now.
What would I be without me? I suspect not nearly as interesting as I think I am, now. I certainly wouldn’t be as concerned that this essay was entertaining, made complete sense, and would be read by more than my wife, and two close friends. To tell you the truth, I’m not so sure about the two close friends. Not that I don’t have close friends. I have a whole slew of “best” friends, even though my wife tells me I can’t have more than one “best” friend. Grammatically, she’s right. But grammar and what I know in my heart are as separated as my realization is from my actualization.
I am beginning to believe the issue is language, my ability, or my alleged ability, to articulate what I’m thinking, feeling, sensing, perceiving or whatever the fifth sense is, oh yeah, intuiting. Of course, my intuition. My ability to see around corners. I wrote a book about it and it was one of my bestsellers. HarperCollins decided it should be called, Unconventional Wisdom, but I preferred the title my step-father gave me, The Naked Hunch. I lost that battle. But intuition is what led me to Buddhism in the first place. It, if I can call it an it, knew I needed to find a way to not hold onto me. But I feel confident in saying, it wasn’t ready to do so.
So, here I am, with my beautiful watch smashed on the ground, or I guess it’s the beautiful watch smashed on the ground and my me attachment solidly in place. What’s a boy to do? I dearly have a thing for me. Even though I have, long ago, realized that that me was only apparent and yet empty. The problem of course, is, if I really want it, I know I have to get rid of the “I. So, I guess, until that moment when the I flies the coop, I’ll have to figure out how to live with me, hanging on the couch, watching another episode of whatever detective series is distracting me in the moment, and looking forward to the release of the next seasons of Astrid and Annica.