Lives in Transition

Last updated on: October 22, 2010 at 2:16 pm by Justin Whitaker

Lives in Transition 2010-10-22T14:16:00-06:00 Justin Whitaker

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Living in India I find that I receive just little snapshots of life from back home; some stories, election news, the ups and downs of my friends and family. One friend emailed me the story of some recent excitement in Missoula:

The national news and NPR carried a story this morning about a Missoula
(maybe Frenchtown?) woman who rescued her dog from an attack by a black
bear. The bear swiped the woman (who wants to remain anonymous) on her
leg as she kicked at it to free her dog. The bear then spun on her and
chased her. She ran into her house and armed herself with a large
zucchini which she had harvested from her garden. She hit the bear and
fended it off. It retreated. We have a long way to go.

I watch the upcoming elections with some worry, but mostly detachment. “Same old, same old,” I think. Of course I have my political leanings and my desires to see them embodied in state and national politics just like most Americans. But for now, at least, the bulk of my attention must be here in India.

Like many in the West these days I have been fairly sheltered from death. Two days ago, however, I witnessed for the first time the dead body of a person snatched from life by accident. He was an East Asian man, perhaps Japanese, and his body lay in the middle of a busy intersection here in Bodh Gaya. Myself and another teacher here were on a rickshaw and at first all we knew is that traffic had stopped suddenly in front of us. A bus blocked our view of the intersection. Getting off the rickshaw, we walked around the bus to see the body and a crowd gathered around. The man’s eyes and mouth were open, with a gaze toward the sky. But he was motionless and a trail of blood ran from his head into a muddy red puddle some feet away. “He’s dead,” was all I thought, as I tried to piece together what could have happened. A Honda motorbike propped up in the intersection near him was the only clue.

Later that night, the rickshaw driver on the way home was able to tell me through his broken English that a tracker had lost control on the hill above the intersection and come careening down through it, somehow clipping the man on his bike.

Every day in India it seems that we get more reminders of the fragility of life. We see children working all day to sell vegetables in the markets, disfigured and elderly beggars limping or crawling around holy sites, polluted water, air, and land, and of course our own bouts with sickness. I’m struggling through my third bout with debilitating diarrhea, nausea, and loss of sleep since we arrived 48 days ago. This one may be the worst, as it has also come with a fever, splitting headaches, some vomiting, and loss of appetite. Then again, the first time around I did become incontinent for a bit, which is both gross and as any adult who has experienced it will tell you, a bit embarrassing. But, like the last two incidents, this one seems to have come under control with Cypro.

Such conditions seem to put things in perspective, though, and for the most part I’m at about as great a level of contentment and happiness as I’ve been in my life.

In the midst of this, three lives in transition back home stand and the fore of my attention. One is my sister, who has uprooted herself from L.A. at last and resettled in Denver. She still has her job from L.A. though, which is done half-time and with some travel; and she feels torn between leaving it for a fully fresh start and hanging on to the generous salary while it lasts. Another is a friend who has moved from Missoula to my home town of Helena, only to find herself with a boss who is difficult to work for. She left Missoula partly due to problems at work and also looked forward to a fresh new beginning. And last is an old friend in Missoula, fresh off a breakup with a promising young woman, getting the the edge of winning a major competition for one of his projects, and being turned down for a sizable grant for another. Despite being one of the most intelligent and capable people I’ve ever met, he feels defeated, unsure of his dreams, and mediocre.

From my perspective here, it might be easy to say, “quit your complaining! You at least have your health and live in a fairly well-ordered society; you live in a place of amazing natural beauty and each of you has the means to take advantage of it. Let me tell you a bit about people’s lives here…”

But, as I read Śāntideva’s “Guide to the Bodhisattva way of Life” and Pema Chödrön’s commentary on it, “No Time to Lose,” I see how such a response would clearly miss the point. Suffering is suffering anywhere, in whatever kind it comes. As I suggested in my last post, it seems that sometimes at least, the beggars in the streets here may be more content, less distressed with life, than my friends back home.

And perhaps showing my lack of bodhisattva qualities, I am still more genuinely concerned for those closest to me in life, even if they happen to be thousands of miles away now. Perhaps it’s still easier for me to identify with their funks, which I’ve been through numerous times myself. As I read, especially Pema Chödrön, I see them as much as I see myself. So, I offer a couple quotes from her that have stood out to me in recent days.

First is one I think applies most to the third person above, whose immense capability and creativity have sent him in several directions in life:

We can’t overestimate the power of commitment. Until we resolve unequivocally to undertake a task and see it through to the end, there is always hesitation and vacillation.

In the Western world we are all heirs to and victims of countless possibilities. We don’t grow up as fast because we don’t know which direction we should grow in: Career? Travel? Family? More Education? Perhaps we hesitate and vascillate as Pema Chödrön suggests, or a setback in one direction sends us headlong in another: “A major break-up? I’ll dive into my career.” Or, “career troubles? I’ll find a perfect partner.” “Neither working? I’ll travel, or go back for that degree that I’ve always sort of wanted.”

Such is the endless chase for happiness when we think it is to be found ‘out there.’ Another technique is to work on oneself, one obvoiously endorsed by Buddhists. Pema shares a story of the power of loving-kindness meditation:

I have a friend who, when he begins getting depressed and withdrawn, goes to a nearby park and does this practice [loving-kindnes] for everyone who walks by. He finds this pulls him out of the slump before it’s too late. The tricky part is getting out of the house, instead of giving in to the seduction of gloom [or of distractions, I might add].

When you begin the practice of rejoicing in others’ good fortune, you can expect to encounter your soft spot – as well as your competativeness and envy. Sitting on a park bench feeling warmth for strangers is relatively easy to do; but when good fortune comes to those we know better, especially those we dislike, it can give us an up-close look at our jealousy.

From there we may need to step back and further come to terms with our own lives, honestly taking account of the harm we have caused ourselves and others. But this too should be handled with loving-kindness and a faith or perhaps intuitive awareness that beneath it all is a truly good person, capable of selflessly caring for others. Life is short for all of us, and can be cut off in the blink of an eye without warning. Realizing this we should set aside all thoughts and actions that bring us and others suffering, resolving to live up to our potential in caring. Such is the teaching of Śāntideva .

I can’t say I’ve figured much of this out myself. Likely my current happiness is just a blip between difficult times when I will surely forget all of Śāntideva and Pema Chödrön’s advice. Hopefully when those times come for me, someone will steer me back to the practices from their wise words. For now, after 24 hours with little more than a few crackers and a banana, I think my stomach is up for a nice Indian Thali. Wish me luck. Better, think of the man who lost his life Wednesday night and send your wishes to him, his family, and friends.

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