Buddhism Teacher

The dictionary defines trust as the assured reliance on the character, ability, strength, or truth of someone or something; one in which confidence is placed.  An enlightened and dear friend of mine recently shared an autobiographical piece he had written, which beautifully and emphatically illustrates this definition.  Chuck Gibson is the friend and he’s the advisor in the writing.

There was a distinguished businessman who had decided to devote some time to public service.  He accepted an appointment to a prestigious commission.  He was a wise man, so he knew that he needed some experienced staff to help him learn about government operations.  Eventually, he selected a young and accomplished advisor who was eager to help this gentleman.

For many months they worked together, sometimes late into the night, because the businessman could get the factual information he needed to make good decisions. During one particularly complex discussion concerning use of public property for a joint venture with another country, the young man presented what he thought had been the most elegant and concise analysis he had ever delivered.

Immediately after the presentation, the businessman looked at the young analyst and said, “You have the benefit of all my doubts.”

After what seemed like a full minute of silence, the young advisor stammered and said, “Thank you sir.”

They went on to complete the evening’s work with the advisor barely able to conceal his feelings of guilt at possibly having done a poor job, maybe somehow offending his client.  Why else would this usually courteous and worldly gentleman have said such an odd thing, especially right after all the skill and thought evident in the presentation?

The advisor went home still thinking about what his client had said to him. He asked himself, “What did he mean by giving me the benefit of his doubts? Didn’t my client trust me anymore?”  

Then he took the question down the path of reason, free from initial feelings of shame for possibly having let his client down.  When there is a confusing or complex topic, don’t people frequently have many doubts about the answers?  If the decision maker cannot find an answer that is clear cut and a decision must be made, she has to rely upon somebody’s advice.  When she makes a decision in reliance of advice of another, she is giving the other person the benefit of her doubts.  She trusts that advisor.  She has faith in that advisor.  What a beautiful definition of trust.  What an extraordinary compliment to the advisor.

Many, many years later, the advisor remembers that compliment and he treasures that gift of trust as much as anything he had ever received.  It is a gift that has been shared many times by the young advisor who no longer possess youth, but he carries a gift of wisdom that can never be taken away.

The businessman is another friend, a former Port of Los Angeles Commissioner, Jun Mori.  Both have the “benefit of all my doubts.”  I’m sure you have one or more friends like that in your life, too.  If not, get one soon.

In most cultures, but particulary in our western culture, we read a great deal about death. Unfortunately, death is viewed as a negative, a really bad thing, because it is believed that it puts an end to our existence. That’s too bad, because the dharma teaches that death is neither good nor bad, it just is. It is a part of life and just another event in our samsara, the continuity of our existence. Samsara is symbolized by the Wheel of Dharma, whose spokes symbolize Buddhism’s Eightfold Path. You can read more about samsara and the Path by clicking on Teachings here in this website.

A few days ago, Chuck, a very respected and longtime friend of mine sent me a poem he had just written. Chuck suffers from a heart condition and he told me that he knows he could “go at any moment.” I told him, “that’s true for any of us.” And furthermore, I told him, “we all die from the same cause: birth.”

Chuck has given me permission to share his poem with you.

Dog of Death at My Door

Late last night I heard a sound,

Scratching, scratching, scratching.

“What could it be,” my dear wife asked me?

“Tis a hound, the dog of death at our door,” said I.

“Come let us go to bed; we’ll be safe in our room.”

Up three stairs we go, fear and doom trailing, my resolve unfailing.

Early in the morning, I am awakened slowly,

A sloppy and wet tongue licking my face.

Tis the dog of death giving me a chill, unwanted though not meant to harm.

Laying still, now awaking, then knowing it was all a dream.

Chuck told me that his poem was the result of an actual happening, an event that he experienced both physically and mentally a few evenings and mornings ago. For me, and for some others with whom I shared Chuck’s dream (?), the poem was very metaphorical, symbolic and insightful. Maybe you would like to share your thoughts about that. If so, please do.

Even as a youth I was fascinated with mortality. I remember in high school, when I read William Cullen Bryant’s poem, Thanatopsis, I thought the last part of it was a beautiful and a positive way of interpreting and envisioning the act and art of dying. Perhaps you do, too. To refresh your memory, here are the last nine lines of Bryant’s “Meditation upon Death,” which is the literal translation of thanatopsis (Greek thanatos (“death”) and the suffix opsis (literally, “sight”)

So live, that when thy summons comes to join

The innumerable caravan which moves

To that mysterious realm, where each shall take

His chamber in the silent halls of death,

Thou go not, like a quarry-slave at night,

Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed

By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave

Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch

About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.

Hard to believe that Bryant was only 16 years old when he wrote Thanatopsis, which was published in 1817. The concluding lines (above), however, were added 10 years later, in 1821.

Here’s how I methaphorically explain the transition from life to death. While it coincides with Buddhism’s explanation of samsara, also it reflects my Christian upbringing, as well as my own spiritual understanding or conclusion:

The sea is a symbol of consciousness and each wave is an individual expression of it. I am represented by the wave. If you like, the sea can also be looked upon as a symbol of God. I am born out of the sea, I exist and experience my separateness from it. But I am always also connected and dependent upon it. At the end of my journey from the sea to the shore, when I cease existing separately, I return to the sea with the understanding, the joy and the wonder of being one with it. How great it is to be a wave, but how much greater it is to be the sea.

Sometimes we need a jolt to wake us up. That jolt could be a hit on the shoulder with a bamboo stick from a Zen Buddhist monk while we’re in meditation, an unexpected trip to the hospital for surgery, or it might be a new piece of wisdom we received as though someone turned on a light in our brain and we discovered a truth we had not known before.

A shock or a jolt is many times very beneficial.  There’s nothing like the crash of cymbals at appropriate places in a symphony to symbolize striking lightning or to conjure up strong emotional feelings in the listener.  Symbols are like cymbals; they can provide a jump-start that is meant to shake us out of our temporary drowsiness or hibernation and into alertness so we can experience what is really going on now or going to happen next.  Like the sound of crashing cymbals, visual renditions of ideas are created to communicate non-physical dimensions of reality, or what is really real as opposed to what might appear to be real, but really isn’t.

Tibetan Green Tara symbol

Just as India’s handsome and beloved Avolokiteshvara joined with China’s beloved and beautiful Tara to bring into this Earthly plain the much honored and respected goddess of compassion, Kuan Yin; and just as Margaret Mitchell conceived Rhett Butler and Scarlet O’Hara for her Gone With The Wind, and just as J. K. Rowling delivered Harry Potter for our enjoyment and insight into some of our virtues, humans have invented, created or given birth to deities, gods and other fictional characters, so that we may visualize that which cannot be seen and to sense that which is not physically manifested.  These symbols, these metaphors are not symbols of things, they are symbols of ideas, and they are meant to help us understand reality.  There is always the danger, however, that we will mistake the symbol as being the realty, and not the idea, thus falling in love with or becoming attached to the symbol and not being able or ready to embrace the idea or to grasp the symbol’s or metaphor’s intended reflection of reality

The Buddha illustrated this mistaken identity in his story about crossing the river on a raft, as well as the one about pointing to the moon.  He taught that once you’ve used the raft to get from one side of the river to the other, you no longer need the raft; and just as a finger pointing to the moon is not actually the moon, but just a tool to use to help capture Earth’s satellite in our consciousness.

Calling these devices, these symbols or metaphors, tools, is a way to explain the reason for their having been invented, i.e. to either help us understand or to repair something that is not working the way it was meant to work.  Once we get beyond the story, we begin to see that it is more than fact or fiction . . . it is the sometimes needed tool to help us grasp a truth or fix a missed understanding.

 “At the time of writing I never think of what I have said before. My aim is not to be consistent with my previous statements on a given question, but to be consistent with truth as it may present itself to me at the given moment. The result has been that I have grown from truth to truth.”
                      -Mohandas K. Gandhi (1869-1948)

My friend Lissa Marie Coffey*, on her Wisdom News website comments on this wisdom expressed by Gandhi with “The important thing to remember is that we are all doing the best we can with where we are and what we know so far. As time goes on, we learn more, and that might cause us to think differently. That is not to say that we were “wrong” before just because we have a different opinion now - but that we can make a more informed choice because of the experiences we have had in our lives. Things look different when they are viewed from a higher vantage point.”

The Gandhi quotation and my friend’s comment on it are dear to my heart. In Buddhism, or just plain enlightened thinking, it is a truth that we do reflect who we are at any given point or time in our lives. That’s because who we are is the result of our intention, volition and action. How we arrive at an intended choice of action is via and because of our experiences, and our experiences have evolved us into who each of us is. But we’re not static. We change through those experiences and intended choices of action. With change comes both growth and hope. During his lifetime, Gandhi represented hope for India; even today he is a lasting symbol of hope. As we witness our own personal changes, we also can see the positive changes taking place all around us. That may be difficult if we just concentrate on the current wars, bleak economy, natural catastrophes and human suffering. But it is very possible.

I discovered Mahatma Gandhi when I was a teenager. I’ve held him and what he represents in the highest esteem ever since. He was the first person from whom I learned about nonviolence, compassion and loving kindness. I wasn’t much of a reader when I was in high school, but I remember reading all I could find about him, including a couple of biographies, as well as his autobiography, “Lead Kindly Light.” Even today, there’s a photo of him on a shelf in my bedroom, placed there along with photos of my children, grandchildren . . . the people I love. Gandhi’s is right next to the ones of the Dalai Lama and Mother Teresa. As far as I’m concerned, we’re all family.

Einstein, another of my gurus, once said of Gandhi, “Generations to come will scarce believe that such a one as this ever in flesh and blood walked upon this earth.” Of course I never met personally either of these two mentors, although I remember my feeling of loss when I learned of their deaths when I was in my twenties. Maybe Einstein was right, but the legacy of Gandhi will never be lost, not now and not in the future.

Once, when I and my youngest son, Geoffrey, who was then still a teenager, were in the city of Madurai in the south of India, we hired a driver and his pedal rickshaw to take us to the Gandhi museum, which is located a few miles outside the town. For those of you not familiar with a pedal rickshaw, it is a three-wheeled bicycle-like vehicle with a little carriage sitting over the two back wheels just big enough to seat two people, and a seat and handlebars just behind the front wheel for the driver. The driver was a rather elderly Indian man dressed in a white dhoti, the usual manner of dress for pedal rickshaw drivers and the poorer working class. He noticeably struggled most of the way with his heavy load. Geoffrey and I both felt guilty; we could see he was suffering and perspiring all the way.

Both the ride to the museum and the visit itself was a most memorable experience. Along with a copy of the letter Gandhi had written to Hitler at the start of World War II urging him to practice non-violence, we saw his spectacles, his sandals and other personal items. What I remember most, however, are the paintings illustrating the history of the Indian people, which circled one large room in the museum like a continuous panorama. By the time I had studied the paintings and read their descriptive captions relating the plight and suffering of the Indian people, I was so moved and shaken that my sobs were audible and my eyes were red and cheeks wet from my stream of tears. It was a tremendously emotional experience, feeling the impact compassion can have sometimes under such circumstances. I know now that I was experiencing the feeling of oneness with the Indian people.

When my son, who also was very stirred and inspired from the visit, and I were ready to climb aboard our waiting pedal rickshaw, I said to him, “Geoffrey, why don’t you let the old man rest in back with me and you do the driving?” It sounded like fun to him, but we had a hard time convincing the driver to change places. We finally convinced him, although he continued objecting all the way into town . . . although not too strenuously.

As we approached and finally returned to the town, traffic increased and the walking, bicycling and other traveling locals began to notice my young son doing the driving with the real dhoti-clad pedal rickshaw man sitting with me in the back. The thumbs-up signs and hoorahs, the broad smiles, raised arms and honking, confirmed their approval of our role change. Although it was a tiny random act of kindness on our part, my son and I can never forget our visit to the Gandhi museum, and especially our Madurai rickshaw ride.

*You can sign up to receive Lissa Marie Coffey’s Daily Wisdom by going to this website: http://www.coffeytalk.com/newsletters.php

On May 6, the following two news reports were dispersed by United Press International

WASHINGTON, May 6 (UPI) — Myanmar pro-democracy advocate Aung San Suu Kyi has been awarded the Congressional Gold Medal, the highest civilian honor awarded in the United States.  President George Bush called it “a fitting tribute to a courageous woman who speaks for freedom for all the people of Burma, and who speaks in such a way that she’s a powerful voice in contrast to the junta that currently rules the country.”   Nobel Peace Prize winner Suu Kyi has been under house arrest for a dozen years. Bush urged Myanmar’s military junta to accept international assistance in dealing with the devastating cyclone that killed tens of thousands of people.  The United States has mobilized naval equipment to help locate the dead and find the missing, Bush said.   All that’s necessary is the military junta’s OK to allow U.S. disaster assessment teams into the country.   “So our message is to the military rulers: Let the United States come to help you, help the people,” he said.   “Our hearts go out to the people of Burma.”

YANGON, Myanmar, May 15 (AP) — Myanmar’s state television says the cyclone’s official death toll has climbed to more than 43,000.  The figure, broadcast Thursday night, was almost 5,000 more than was released Wednesday by the military government.   The number of missing has remained at nearly 28,000 for at least two days. The U.N. and others have said that more than 100,000 may have died. Myanmar’s junta has allowed the U.N. and some other agencies to hand out aid directly but has prohibited their few foreign staff from leaving Yangon, the country’s main city.

Recently, a Burmese friend sent me an email asking me to go to a website, http://www.fanista.com/burmaitcantwait/, and add my name to those in support of democracy in Burma.   Maybe, after you’ve read the following information about this beautiful Asia country, you would like to visit the sight and add your name to the growing list of supporters, too.  

Many readers and students know of my visits and interest in the country of Burma, now called Myanmar, a name which has neither been acceptable to most Burmese nor to many countries.   Burma is a primarily Theravada Buddhist country and is bordered by five other Asia nations, Thailand, Laos, China, Bangladesh and India.  It achieved its independence from the United Kingdom in 1948.  It had a democratic government until 1962, when a coup d’etat resulted in a military junta taking control, which is still the case today.

Actually, the country has used the name Myanma (minus the ending “r”) since the thirteenth century, but sometime in later centuries it became known as Burmah (with the ending “h”).  Its capital city, formerly known as Rangoon, is now called Yangon.

Because its oppressive, socialist government is not supported by the majority of its citizens, protests against the military rule and junta have taken place almost from the beginning; they always are squelched by government troops.  Although the demonstrations continue from time to time, mainly by students and/or Buddhist monks, they always result in hundreds and sometimes in thousands of killings by the troops.

Free elections were held in 1990 and the National League for Democracy, the party of Aung San Suu Kyi, won, but the election results were annulled and Suu Kyi placed under house arrest.  A pro-democracy activist and now also known as a “prisoner of conscience” and advocate of nonviolence resistance, Aung San Suu Kyi won the Nobel Peace Prize in 1991.  She was not permitted to leave the country to receive the prize, was put under house arrest and is currently under repeated detention by the government.  In the 1990 election she won the right to be the country’s Prime Minister, but she was never allowed to hold that office.

On September 19, 2007, several thousand monks staged a protest march in the city of Sittwe, followed by protests in Yangon and other cities, and an unknown number of deaths and injuries ensued.  Internet access was cut off and since has been sporadic, and journalists have been warned not to report on the protests. Last February the government announced that it would hold a referendum for a new constitution this month (May) and an election by 2010.  You just read what faith the Burmese people have in its government’s intention.

Compassion and love are not mere luxuries.
As the source both of inner and external peace,
They are fundamental to the continued survival of our species.
                                                                  - His Holiness the XIV Dalai Lama

Keeping in mind that the practice of loving kindness and compassion is the Buddhist way of experience joy and satisfaction, and eliminating suffering and frustration in one’s life, the Buddha’s teaching (sutta in Sanskrit and sutra in Pali) of the Four Immeasurables is for the purpose of cultivating these virtues in individuals for their benefit and for the benefit of all sentient beings, meaning not just humans, but all the animals and all things having life.

They are called the Four Immeasurables, because it is not possible to measure the amazingly positive effect they have on the individual and society as a result of practicing them.  So, what are these seemingly magical vitamin-like ingestives, which when taken can minimize our displeasures and maximize our happiness?  Unlike pills or capsules, we don’t swallow them orally; they are to be incorporeally absorbed, then reflected through healthful and helpful attitudes and activities.

First, there is the Immeasurable of love: the desire for all beings to be happy and to realize the cause of their happiness.  The second Immeasurable is that of compassion: the desire for all beings to be free of suffering and frustration, and to realize the cause of those undesirables.  Third, the Immeasurable of altruistic joy: the desire for all beings to be free of oppression and never separated from the causes of their delight and bliss.  And the fourth, the Immeasurable of impartiality or equanimity: the desire for all beings to be non-judgmental, and to be free of bias, unwholesome attachment and anger.

When we meditate on these virtues, absorbing them with each inhaled breath and exhaling the impurities of greed, anger, hate and ignorance, we don’t just acquire loving kindness, compassion, sympathetic joy and equanimity; we become them: they become a part of who and what we are.  And we radiate them, affecting all those with whom we come in contact.

These Immeasurables are not sectarian; although identified in form as Buddhist, they are common in the world’s great religions and emphasize a commonality and perennial philosophical and recognized truth.

For Buddhists and for anyone seeking enlightenment and a truly satisfying life, the Immeasurables are not virtues just to be tucked away in our intellectual storehouse.  Loving kindness and compassion are to be practiced as actions, not feelings.  Sympathetic joy and impartiality are to be reflected through acts as common as smiles, pats on backs, liberty and justice for all.

Several years ago during Seattle’s special Olympic Games for the mentally disabled, a group of nine boys and girls stood at the starting line ready to race in the 100-yard dash. When the gun was fired, the challengers began running toward the finish line. One little boy stumbled and hurt his knee just as the race began. His crying was heard by the other runners and they slowed down and looked back to see what was wrong. Then all of them turned around and went back to the injured boy. They helped him up, then all nine linked arms and walked together to the finish line. All the spectators stood up and cheered. Their smiles matched those on the faces of the runners and none who were there will ever forget the experience. The effect of that incident, that expression of love, compassion, sympathetic joy and impartiality by the participants on the track and in the stands cannot be measured.

I think that’s a powerful example and a demonstrative definition of the Four Immeasurables.

 Note: While a brief description of Buddhism’s Four Immeasurables is given in the “Teachings” section of this website, the preceding is an elaboration of them, which appeared recently in a column I wrote for the Ventura County Star newspaper.

Recently I attended a memorial service for a friend who had been to several of my dharma study sessions in Thousand Oaks, California. The service, arranged by members of the Conejo Valley Unitarian Universalist Fellowship (CVUUF), included the singing of a song, Let It Be A Dance, by American poet Ric Masten, which reminded me of the Nataraja sculpture and the Sufi story, “The Tale of the Sands,” which I use in my classes for a clearer understanding of Buddhism’s continuity of existence

Nataraja(King of the Dance)
 

In Hinduism, there is a sculpture know as Nataraja (king or god of the dance). It depicts Siva, that aspect of Braman (Sanskrit for The Absolute) as the personification of divine reality.  In a dancing posture, Siva is performing his divine responsibility forthe contiuous creation of the universe.  In India, and elsewhere, there are many variations of the statue, usually in bronze.  In fact, my Indian and Hindu friend in Southern India sent one to me in copper.  The sculpture portrays Siva dancing in a circle of flames, lifting one leg, which indicates balance, and standing on the demon of ignorance, portrayed in the sculpure a a dwarf.  A deeper meaning of the sculptured metaphor is the constant movement or dance of the atom and the constant orbiting of the planets around our sun and the continuous expansion of the Universe.  On a personal interpretation, it is our own dancing trough life.

You can find Ric Masten’s Let It Be A Dance on the web, as well as more information about him, his life and his works.  I now share Ric’s insightful and beautiful creative piece with you, my friends and students:

LET IT BE A DANCE
by Ric Masten

Let it be a dance we do.
May I have this dance with you?
Through the good times
And the bad times, too,
Let it be a dance.

Let a dancing song be heard.
Play the music say the words,
Fill the sky with sailing birds.
Let it be a dance

Learn to follow, learn to lead,
Feel the rhythm, fill the need.
To reap the harvest, plant the seed.
And let it be a dance.

Everybody turn and spin,
Let your body learn to bend,
And, like a willow with the wind,
Let it be a dance.

A child is born, the old must die,
A time for joy, a time to cry.
Take it as it passes by.
And let it be a dance.

Morning star comes out at night,
Without the dark there is no light.
If nothing’s wrong, then nothing’s right.
Let it be a dance.

Let the sun shine, let it rain,
Share the laughter, bare the pain,
And round and round we go again.
Let it be a dance.

Note : Since the representation of Let It Be A Dance is presented here, not in its rendition as a song, but as a piece of philosophy, I have not included the repetitive and triplicate “Let it be a dance,” which in the song serves as the chorus between each verse.

I understand from the minister of CVUUF in Thousand Oaks, that as of this writing, Ric is winding down his own dance in this segment of his conscious and continuous continuity.  We are sure he has let his life be a dance, and like a willow is now bending with the wind and awaiting the next spin.

Last month I acquired a pair of poephila guttata and a pair of lonchura striata domestica, more commonly known as zebra and society finches.  Admittedly, I don’t know very much (yet) about these chattering little expressions of consciousness, but I am learning, and I think that they indeed have a buddhanature. 

The first zebra (I named him Martin in honor of a friend of mine from Tehuacan, Mexico) was given to me by my daughter, who herself received him from someone she knew, who no longer could keep him; he was disturbing his newly acquired spouse when she was trying to sleep.   Actually, all you have to do is cover the cage at night and they’ll keep quiet and go to sleep, too.)

I bought the second zebra (I named her Ruthie in honor of a dear friend of mine, who lives in Sedona, Arizona.  For the first day Ruthie wouldn’t have anything to do with Martin; evidently he seemed too aggressive to her, because I noticed he was always trying to get close to her.   I think he was trying to kiss her, but she seemed a bit angry with him and didn’t want any part of his amorous tactics.   They didn’t sleep together that night. However, the next day they appeared to be on better terms, and by nighttime they were both huddled together in their little fake-fur home inside their cage.   I bought them a little nest made of twigs just in case.

A week later I bought the pair of societies.   I named the male Jason in honor of a Burmese friend of mine, who lives in Fremont, California and I named the female Terry in honor of another dear friend of mine, who lives in Fallbrook, California).   Jason is brown and black topside and white underside.   Terry is just brown topside and white underside, but she has a little white crest on top of her head, sort of like the new fashionable hairstyle on some models I’ve seen on TV shows featuring runway ladies.   It’s obvious they’re attached to each other, and they’re not too friendly with Ruthie and Martin, although they do eat together.   Jason and Terry, however, seemed to be a bit greedy and they tried to monopolize the seed tray by laying down in it as though they are taking a seed bath.   So, I bought a second feeder and that seems to have solved the problem.  

I tell you all this, because it reflects the truth of the dharma (I realize that sentence is redundant) that all sentient beings experience dukkha in some way. And it’s due to the three poisons of greed, anger and ignorance.   They must, however, be practicing their own finch version of the Noble Eightfold Path, because they haven’t declared war and they’re not fighting with each other.   Little by little they are tolerating me looking in on them occasionally to see how they’re doing.   They seem to be getting used to the big face they see outside the security of their environment, because they no longer flutter around in fear of the monster looking in on them from behind their barred habitat.   Like those of us who call ourselves Buddhists, they try to adjust, compromise, and seek happiness within the confines of their existence, notwithstanding the obstacles one runs into from time to time.   It’s just possible they may be Buddhists, themselves.   If that’s the case I may rename them more appropriately, perhaps Bodhi and Dharma, and Kwan and Yin.   More later about my new found friends, the fluttering finches of Cherry Hills Lane.

The dharma of Buddhism teaches that our future, as well as our evolutionary journey through life, is determined by the actions we take.  And our actions are based on our intentions and the choices we make in an effort to realize those intentions.  Further, one’s life experiences play an important role in determining what our intentions are, how skillfully we choose the methods or actions we take to realize those intentions, followed by the actions themselves.  This process is the law of cause and effect . . . or in the words of Buddhism’s dharma . . . the law or truth of karma.

The importance of volition or choice in determining one’s future not only forms the basis of Buddhist psychology, but is becoming increasingly accepted by enlightened thinkers and renowned world scientists and psychologists. Dr. William Glasser, MD and author, who has devoted the past 50 years to theory and practice in psychology and counseling, is one of them. 

In his book, Choice Theory, Dr. Glasser tells us that behavior (action) is central to our existence and is the result of our inborn need or desire to survive, to love and be loved, to be of some significance, to enjoy freedom with responsibility, and to enjoy learning.  His analysis of behavior includes the components of acting, thinking, feeling and physiology.

These components, interestingly enough, actually comprise most of the five aggregates determined in dharma to be the definition of all sentient beings, including humans, which include the physical body, feelings, and mind formations or thought process.  The other aggregates are perceptions (part feelings and part thought process) and consciousness (awareness).  According to Dr. Glasser (and dharma) the four components or aggregates are “closely intertwined” and they have a strong effect on the quality of our lives.

Dr. Glasser and Buddhist teachings agree that the source of much unhappiness is failing or failed relationships with those most important to us, and that the symptoms of such unhappiness are reflected differently by each individual.  A positive approach for a more satisfying and happier life is the acquiring of skills for improving our relationships either through “counseling” or by learning from the unhappiness we “feel” from making unskillful choices.  Buddhism’s Eightfold Path gives directions for acquiring the skills one needs for eliminating unhappiness and experiencing a satisfactory and satisfying life.

Most of Dr. Glasser’s axioms in his choice theory might easily be found in the teachings of an enlightened monk or Buddhism teacher, although probably worded differently due to having been translated into English from ancient Pali or Sanskrit texts.  Somewhat paraphrased they are:

·        The only person whose behavior we can control is our own.

·        All we can give another person is information.

·        All long-lasting psychological problems are relationship problems.

·        The problem relationship is always part of our present life.

·        What happened in the past has everything to do with what we are today, but we can only satisfy our basic needs right now and plan to continue satisfying them in the future.

·        All we do is behave and our behavior is made up of four components: acting, thinking, feeling and physiology.

·        All behavior is chosen, and we have direct control over the acting and thinking components.  We can only control our feeling and physiology indirectly through how we choose to act and think.

·        All behavior is designated by verbs.

If I were to describe myself using Buddhism’s interpretation of the five parts comprising a sentient being, I would refer to myself as an ever-changing, impermanent process, consistently evolving according to my experiences, and my present self is the direct effect of my intentions, choices and actions.  In that sense, I cannot consider myself a noun; I am a verb.  The happiness and satisfaction I find in life is the direct result of the choices I make.

Dr. Glasser may not consider himself a Buddhist, but he might very well be one.  After all, a Buddhist is merely one in pursuit of enlightenment and a practitioner of compassion and kindness.  I think his choice theory reflects those characteristics.  Don’t you?