Oneness

In my last blog, I talked about the Buddhist concept that all living things are like rivers--constantly changing, with nothing inside them that is exactly the same from moment to moment.  There has always been some movement in a river from moment to moment.  It looks like the same river, but all the water has moved from one blink of an eye to the next.  Similarly, from moment to moment, we look the same but new thoughts have popped into our heads, new emotions, new physical sensations, and we've become aware of new sights, sounds, and smells around us.  A Buddhist would say that, if you look within yourself in meditation, you quickly find that this is true, and that the stream of your mind and body never stops moving.

A river can also be used to illustrate another Buddhist concept about living things.  Living things are not separate from their surroundings.  It is convenient to TALK about your self and other living things as if they are fully independent and separate.  This kind of thinking helps people make plans for THEMSELVES as opposed to OTHERS.  But complete independence, just like complete permanence, is an illusion.

Where are the sharp boundaries between a river and its surroundings?  Do you "count" every stream, every trickle of water, and every raindrop that feeds into the river as "part of the river"?  Is the ocean that the river spills into part of the "river"?  Or is the river part of the ocean?  The water from the river penetrates the soil.  At what point does this water switch from "belonging" to the river to "belonging" to the ground?

Similarly, if "I" am the changing combination of thoughts, perceptions, emotions, and the changing state of my body, where can the line be drawn between "me" and my surroundings?  When you say something to me that gets me thinking or that changes my feelings, isn't this like a stream feeding a river, and therefore it is no longer clear where "you" stop and "I" start?  How about when I see or hear things around me?  Aren't these things "feeding" what then happens in my mind, the way streams "feed" the river?

If you agree that a living being's mind is fully connected with their surroundings, and that their heart is connected as well, it may seem that at least their physical body is separate and independent.  But is it?  As you inhale, the air flows into your nose.  Is it "you" yet?  It enters your lungs.  How about now?  The oxygen in the air diffuses into your blood.  Is this when it becomes "you"?  I read recently that a person has about 5 pounds of good and bad bacteria and other micro-organisms in the body helping with digestion and other functions.  Are these 5 pounds of germs "you"?

Ken Wilber wrote a great book called "No Boundary" that beautifully explores the idea that there is no such thing as fully independent existence, that it is all just one big, interconnected "now".  We divide this reality into separate "parts" in our minds and in our language just for practical purposes.  Literature about mystical experiences anywhere in the world and in any religion talk about feelings of "oneness" or "unity" with the universe.  Maybe what they have in common is that they have woken up to the reality of "oneness".  It was there all along.

Why we stare at candles

I think people are almost universally mesmerized by things like fire and water because they remind us of our true nature.  They are dynamic.  Everything changes, every moment, in the flame of a candle, the rush of a stream, or the roar of a waterfall.  As the Greek philosopher Heraclitus said, "You can't step in the same river twice."  I think we stare at these things and find them soothing because they remind us that we, too, are transformed completely from moment to moment.

The Buddhist notion that we change completely from moment to moment is the foundation of my personal philosophy and the reason I call this blog "Embrace Your Changing Self".  Around 600 BC, Buddha was on a spiritual quest to become enlightened.  In those days and in that place, most people thought that the secret to becoming enlightened was to look within and find the inner self, the "Atman", that did NOT change.  "Atman" was pure, perfect, eternal, like a shining inner light.  Get in touch with "Atman", it was thought, and you could be enlightened.

So Buddha got to work, meditating deeply, quickly surpassing the depths of concentrations of the gurus who tried to teach him.  But the more he looked, the more he became convinced that there was no "Atman".  Furthermore, he realized that this was OK.  No, he saw that it was good.  In fact, he saw that the very search for an "Atman" or anything else unchanging inside this changing self was the source of self-induced suffering.  You could only be disappointed if you tried to cling to a perfect thought, feeling, or consciousness because all these things change and always will change.  He took this thought further.  It isn't just "Atman".  Any attempt to cling to any fixed notion of who we are, physically, mentally, or spiritually, leads to suffering because we will be disappointed when things change.  There are tendencies, habits, and traits, just as a river tends to run this direction and then that direction.  But the river still flows and so do we.

Will they grow out of it?

Probably the biggest challenge my wife and I face right now is a parenting concern.  Le'ts just say our 14 year old son is not sensitive to the needs of others, and never has been.

We've read many parenting books aimed at addressing these issues in children, have tried many techniques for years, but we feel we've made little to no progress.  Sometimes other parents tell us, "Don't worry.  He's a teenager.  He's not very mature yet.  He'll grow out of it."

He might.  But we know plenty of adults who never "grew out of it".  They've remained self centered all their lives, from nursery to nursing home.  The easy way out would be to look the other way and assume that he'll eventually "get it".  But if we do this, and he doesn't ever "get it", we will have missed our chance as parents to help him reach his full potential in life.  We choose, instead, to struggle, even though it has been totally frustrating so far.

Setting Boundaries

I learned something from my wife this weekend.  I tend to be too non-confrontational, especially about "little things".  Chris sends out invitations for a elementary school graduation party for my youngest boy.  One of his friends has dysfunctional parents.  They have a huge family and would bring 1/3rd of the guests if they come.  No responses to e-mails, phone messages, except one message that they've been busy and will respond soon.  Well past the RSVP date, we have to buy food, and they are still stringing us along.  Chris drafts an e-mail standing up for herself, telling the mom what an inconvenience this is and uninviting them.  I try to get her to tone it way down rather than make a fuss.

I was wrong.  Chris sent a slightly revised, but still assertive e-mail to the mom and quickly got an apology.

I hesitate to confront to avoid tension in the relationship.  But there is a much greater risk of tension if I DON'T say anything.  These "little things" simmer. Chris quotes Dr. Phil as saying, "You have to teach people how you expect to be treated."  I'm sure I don't do this enough at home or at work, and I need to change.

I took a small step today at work today.  Everyone with a last name starting with the letter "P" shares a mail slot.  For years, I've had to sort through piles of mail from two people who seem to subscribe to every magazine in the world and have those magazines delivered to work along with many bills and other junk mail.  I don't even know what these guys look like, and it isn't that big a deal to weed through their mail, but I wanted to act on my new commitment so I sent them e-mails asking them to clear out their stuff and stay on top of it.  Within minutes one of them replied that they'd get right on it.

Not looking for Nirvana

Buddhist practices make me happy, but I'm not looking for Nirvana.  I don't want what Buddha wanted.  My tastes are more modern and not as ideal.

In the "Psychology of Nirvana", Rune Johansson argued that Buddhists were looking for one kind of happiness 2500 years ago, but people today are looking for another kind of happiness.  There is overlap--both in our goals and our methods--but "the end of the road" in the search for happiness is different for people today than it was for Buddhists in ancient times.

Back then, Buddhists were looking for a perfect happiness, perfectly accepting of each moment, with zero desire or craving for change.  They felt this type of perfection was needed to achieve a completely new state of mind--Nirvana.  Nirvana--the happiness that comes from complete and permanent enlightenment--was needed to end the cycle of reincarnation and suffering.  Nirvana wasn't just being MORE happy, it was supposed to be a totally new happiness, a transformation that leaves ordinary happiness behind.

To achieve this, Buddhist monks had to avoid attachment and craving.  Better not marry or you might feel pain when your loved ones suffer or if they leave you.  Better not get a demanding job because you'll be upset if you don't meet your goals.  Better not own anything or you could get upset if you lose it.

I'm not looking for this kind of perfect peace, free of the ups and downs of family, career, possessions, and community goals.  In his book, Johansson says that, for early Buddhists, the main goal of life was to personally achieve enlightenment, to have and maintain a euphoric sense of awareness of the present moment and of connection to the universe.  But Johansson says that the goals of people today are more of a balance between personal happiness, connecting to family and friends, and the desire to accomplish things.  That fits my experience.  I want friends, families, volunteer work, possessions, and fun even if these things sometimes lead to disappointment or grief.  I'm not looking for consistent happiness, just MORE happiness balanced with goals and desires that sometimes don't work out.

What modern folks and Buddhists from 2500 years ago have in common is METHOD:  whether you just want to be happier or you want Nirvana, it helps to meditate--to train the mind to focus on the now.  It helps to accept change.  It helps to recognize that there is nothing inside of me or you that stays the same moment to moment, that we are like rivers in that everything within us shifts moment to moment so that we are continuously reborn.  As the Greek philosopher Heraclitus said, "You can never step in the same river twice".  These practices helped the early Buddhists reach Nirvana.  They also help me and can help others today, even if we're trying to reach a different kind of happiness.

Triage

Richard Carlson, in "Don't Sweat the Small Stuff at Work", talks about the need to accept that, for most of us, there are far more demands on our time than we can ever satisfy.  Someone will always be disappointed that we aren't giving them what they expect from us.  It's a fact, it's not the end of the world; accept it as something you might always experience.


Today, at work, knowing that lots of people are expecting more than I can deliver, I went through a triage exercise.  I thought about triage in a medical emergency:  which patients must I treat first, letting the others suffer for now?  I spent an hour sorting and resorting the list until I was SURE that if I worked from the top down, I would always be working on THE most important thing.


I've always had "high", "medium", and "low" priorities, but I think that I get something more by going through this top-to-bottom ranking system for my "To Do List".  It helps me pick what to do next with less hesitation, with more confidence that the tasks I DO complete matter more than the tasks that I DON'T complete.  I feel confident that, although I could not do it all, I did what mattered most. 

One minute, please

To build on yesterday's blog, working without interruption is more than a few rules of thumb such as shutting off the e-mail program a few hours a day.  It is also an attitude, a feeling that you have a right to "get to a good stopping point" before responding to a new request.

There are some people who absolutely refused to be rushed except in an emergency.  They are writing something down, neatly, while you wait in line along with 10 other people.  They might say, "Just a minute, please", but they have no intention of stopping until they are through with the task they are focusing on.

At times, I can get impatient waiting for someone like this to stop and address my needs.  But, at the same time, I respect these people.  They know themselves.  They know that they will be more at peace if they start a task and finish it before attending to the next person in line.  They know that they can only do one thing at a time and will be more productive in the long run if they refuse to be interrupted every few seconds.

I think I need to do more of this myself.  There are too many times that I'm on the phone with one person while typing an instant message to someone else, all the while stressing out over a complex report that I stopped working on when the phone rang and the Instant Message window popped up.  If I was coordinated enough, I think I'd also be texting with my feet!  I'd be better off taking the "one minute, please" attitude.  Focus on one thing at a time, knowing this will make my mind more peaceful and knowing that I'll get more done in the long run.

Stopping interruptions

The book, "Power of Less", had advice that I took once and then forgot about.  I need to go back to it.

The book cites research about how much time the average person loses each time they are interrupted in a task before they can regain their focus.  To avoid this, the book recommends a few things to avoid interruptions.  They are simple suggestions but powerful:

• Pick 2-3 big tasks to focus on per day
• Start the day with quality time addressing the most important task
• Turn on your e-mail and the same one or two times per day to attack your In-box with vigor.  Then shut it down so that it doesn't distract you.
• Turn on "instant messaging" when you need to find people or be accessible, but leave it off most of the day

Train them BEFORE asking for input

In my last blog, I talked about trying to get my teams more engaged by involving them more in creating our goals and strategies.  I think it's starting to work, but I did have a setback that taught me a lesson.

A team member called me about a concern she had.  She was very agitated, and I couldn't understand why.  After 15 minutes of probing, I realized she completely misunderstood several fundamental aspects of the project.  I was shocked at how far off she was on many of her assumptions.

But I immediately felt it wasn't her fault.  I felt a bit embarrassed.  I think she's bright.  I think I tend to underestimate how much training people need when they join a team.  I need to give this training, check for understanding, and THEN, when I ask for input on our goals and strategies, they'll speak with knowledge and that knowledge will give them confidence and increase the quality of what they contribute to the team.

Ask for their input, not their vote

A few weeks ago, I was thinking "guilty as charged" as I was reading the book "Stomp the Elephant in the Office".  The book is about how to stomp negativity and apathy in the office, how to create an energized culture with people cooperating to reach their goals.

What was I guilty of?  The authors talked about the common error of leaders who use meetings to explain their ideas and ask for approval.  The agenda for every meeting is, "Here's my new idea about what we should all do.  Let's take a vote."  Guilty as charged, at least for SOME of the teams that I lead.

What should I be doing instead?  According to the authors, I have to come to my team with a vision.  Make sure it is sketchy.  Then fill in the details as a team.  The team will become energized about the plan only if they help create it.  In essence, for every conference call, I need to ask my team for their input, not their vote.

Over the years, some of my teams have thrived and others have had low energy and poor attendance for meetings.  The teams that are thriving are ones where I have less expertise, such as an information systems team call that I'm leading.  With my lack of expertise, I come to the conference calls with an open ended issue, and we work as a team to develop solutions.  I don't HAVE an answer for these problems because I'm not an expert in these information systems.  I'm forced to share the task of defining goals and strategies.

For all the teams that have been disengaged with poor attendance, I AM the expert in the subject.  I've come to the calls with "all the answers".  Most conference calls have consisted of me explaining what I think should be done and asking team members if they can do the task and, if so, by when. 

For the last few weeks, I've been trying to fix this.  Despite being the expert on these teams, I have to adopt what Zen Buddhists call "Beginner's Mind".  By this they mean that, even if you are a Zen Master, you need to maintain the mind of a beginning student, a mind that is open and hungry for new ideas. 

As I plan each conference call now, despite being an expert, despite having a ton of ideas about how things should be done, I now think, "What topics will get people to contribute their ideas?  What open ended questions can I ask?"  I may still need to do some explaining and teaching because of my expertise in the subject.  But how can I balance that with a hunger for what my team members think?  These conference calls are getting much more energized now.  Attendance is slowly growing.

Care free

I'm traveling on business, and my wife, Chris, is with me for a change.  My beloved sister is at the house taking care of the kids and the dogs, so Chris and I are alone for 5 days--longer than we've been alone together since the first child was born 13 years ago.

We are both struck with the novelty of how care-free we feel.  We are giddy.  We'd forgotten how it feels to not be focused on caring for others.  We love being parents and pet owners, but it's a pleasure to take a break, to let go of these responsibilities, and to just enjoy being together.

We really forgot what this feels like.  It is SO different, we're thinking that--on the flip side--people who have no kids have NO idea what it feels like to be constantly concerned with their needs.

I swear Chris looks 15 years younger today, and so do I!

This is a business trip.  I'm working 10 to 12 hours per day.  But it doesn't matter.  We still went to dinner tonight and toasted to feeling care free.

And then we had a second toast.  I raised my glass:  "To capturing this feeling and finding a way to maintain it when we go back to our normal lives.  To--somehow--feeling care free when we're once again hovering over the kids and the dogs . . . CHEERS!!!!!"

Mothers Day

Every year I have to remind myself that it's about what Chris wants for Mother's Day.  I'd love to go out to a play, a concert, or a restaurant--something that would sound like I'm a good husband when I tell the guys about it at work.  But on Mother's Day, Chris likes to be at home, get a gift and cards, have us make breakfast, and then to be supported the rest of the day taking care of the kids, the chores, and the house.  I think I got it right this year, even if the guys at work are sure to have better stories.

Power of Less

The pendulum has swung and I'm feeling like I CAN do what I need to do at work.  For now.  I seem to have negotiated a commitment that is stretching but not impossible.  I'm not going to get overconfident about this.  I could suddenly be asked to do more than anyone I know can do.   But, for now, it's OK.

But before I leave this subject, I want to make a plug for a book I read a few months ago:  "The Power of Less" by Leo Babauta.  The author recognizes that we generally are asked to do more than we can do without sacrificing peace of mind.  His recommendations are to negotiate as needed to commit to LESS.  Commit to important things, stretching things, but LESS.  It's similar to the many people who write about switching to a Simpler Life.  But something I prefer about Babauta's book:  many other Simple Living books advocate decisions I'm not ready to make such as giving up any high pressure, professional job.  Babauta's book is less extreme.  Negotiate carefully.  Commit to what you can deliver.  Agree to fewer things.  Fewer sports for the kids, fewer clubs, commitments at work that you can deliver versus commitments that make your customers feel good today but that will make them mad tomorrow when you don't deliver.

I'm much happier when I feel I have a prayer of delivering the commitment.  I don't want to just go through the motions at my job, knowing I won't make it.  And the best thing I've found  I can do is to negotiate, even to the point of upsetting my customers, so that I never promise more than I can deliver.

Dirty Harry

My last blog may have seemed negative.  But I know that I can't do everything that is asked of me, both inside and outside of work.  As Clint Eastwood said in the second "Dirty Harry" movie, "A man's got to know his limitations".

I'm sure this is equally true for people in blue collar jobs, other white collar jobs, or moms who stay at home.  I guess that most people, like me, hate to admit that they can't handle it all so that, when we finally draw the line, it is a little too late.  We agree to a little too much and sacrifice some of our sleep, our exercise, nutrition, contemplation, friends, family, and community.

Crossing over from "Can" to "Can't"

At work, in the last few months, I've gone back and forth from "can" to "can't".  What a difference this makes!

It feels great when the work is challenging, requires all of my creativity, intellect, and social skills.  But often some of my "customers" have been demanding the impossible.  It's a totally different world at work when I know that what I'm being asked to do, what I'm being told is the minimum expectation, cannot be done.  This never happened to me before in over two decades, but it's become commonplace in the last year.

I'm not alone.  Lots of people get put in situations at work where they can't win.  But it's hard to make the transition back and forth.  I almost wish it was always one way or the other so that I could develop consistent coping strategies.  There's one set of attitudes and habits to use when you know you can't deliver what you're being asked to do and your customers don't listen to you when you tell them this is the way it is.  When you're in that situation, you resign yourself to it and get your satisfaction from other things.

But when you cross over again from "can't" back to "can", suddenly you are playing to win, reaching deeply into your reserves to overcome obstacles because you know that success is possible.

The reality is that people CAN ask for too much.  You hope that they don't do this, that they will be satisfied with you if you do your best and you know you've made good decisions and produced good results.  But expectations aren't always reasonable.  Sometimes they are beyond what you can deliver without giving up your family, friends, and sanity.  There are times when you have to just do what you can, know that your customers will be unhappy, and deal with the consequences.

The trouble with "I"

As an engineer, I'm used to creating mathematical "models" that stand for something else, something real that is always infinitely more complex.  For example, the engineer creates a model of moving air.  It can do a fair job of predicting roughly how fast real air will flow, with what pressure it flows, and at what temperature.  But it is falls far short of truly describing moving air.  The wind is infinitely more complex and interesting than anything an engineer can model.

Similarly, the concept of "I" is a "model" that represents the real me.  It can do a fair job of predicting my emotions, my actions, and my physical limitations.  But the real person is infinitely more complex than the "model" of the person called "I".

So what is the trouble with "I"?  Almost everyone, myself included, forgets that "I" is just a model.  All the labels I attach to myself are just models.  They leave out so much of what is going on in me physically, emotionally, spiritually.  Similarly, my thought of who "you" are leaves out 99% of who "you" really are.  This is what the linguists are talking about when they say "the map is not the territory" and "the word is not the thing".  When we confuse our words and labels for reality, we live in a world that is far less rich than the real one.

enemies

Listening to a Dalai Lama audiobook on cultivating compassion.  Interesting thought:  be grateful for your enemies or anyone that creates difficulty for you.  They are your gurus in that nobody else can be as effective in teaching you patience, tolerance, or forgiveness.  I've thought about this since I heard it in the Audio-book.  He's right.  How else can you learn patience or forgiveness?  If you read about it in a book, at most you are persuaded intellectually.  This does not give you a chance to put your new ideas into action.  An enemy, or at least someone who makes you uncomfortable, gives you a unique opportunity to exercise tolerance, patience, and forgiveness.  Friends can't do this for you.  Only enemies.

Getting through security

A couple of days ago, my friend and I were waiting to get through Security at the Philadelphia airport.  Every choice we made, every line we picked, led to the slowest and longest line.  My friend started to get agitated.  I had opened up to him that morning about my Buddhism, so I took this opportunity to point out the need to accept things as they are.

He countered, "But if we always accept things as they are, we won't be motivated to improve anything.  I want to make things better.  That can only happen if I first get upset when I see things that are wrong."

I responded by paraphrasing something I read in "The Power of Now" by Eckhart Tolle.  While Tolle is NOT a Buddhist, his ideas are certainly compatible.  I think Tolle does a brilliant job in this book of addressing the apparent contradiction between accepting things as they are and being a force for change.  So I said to my friend, "It's all about the timing.  In this moment, this millisecond, this microsecond, this nanosecond--NOW--accept things as they are as if--to quote Tolle directly--you had asked for things to be this way, as if you had asked for this imperfect situation.  In the next moment, ask yourself if there are actions you could take to make the situation better.  If so, act."

I gave my friend an analogy.  "Imagine if you are playing in a basketball game.  The stakes are high and the score is close.  The player you are guarding jumps, shoots, and scores.  This is not the ideal situation for you. But will it help you to resist it?  Will it help to invest emotion and thoughts into wishing it had not happened?  Or is your team more likely to win if you fully accept the reality that it happened and then move instantly to assessing what you should do next to steer the future the way you want it to be?"