Precept Essays: Introduction

Twice a year, our Sangha gathers to take Jukai and recommit to the Buddhist precepts. For reference, the precepts as we take them at the Center are as follows:

1. I resolve not to kill but to cherish all life.
2. I resolve not to take what is not given, but to respect the things of others.
3. I resolve not to misuse sexuality, but to be caring and responsible.
4. I resolve not to lie but to speak the truth.
5. I resolve not to cause others to take substances that impair the mind, nor to do so myself, but to keep the mind clear.
6. I resolve not to speak of the faults of others, but to be understanding and sympathetic.
7. I resolve not to praise myself and disparage others, but to overcome my own shortcomings.
8. I resolve not to withhold spiritual or material aid, but to given them freely where needed.
9. I resolve not to indulge in anger, but to practice forbearance.
10. I resolve not to revile the Three Treasures (Buddha, Dharma and Sangha), but to cherish and uphold them.

Before the last Jukai, I invited Sangha members to write something reflecting on a particular precept that was important to them. Some initial responses appear below.

To examine the precepts carefully is to rediscover our own efforts, and inevitably, our own shortcomings. While these efforts can be very personal, these writings are offered as a lens through which to see our efforts in their universality-- though the names and forms differ, much of what follows should sound quite familiar.

-JRL

Precepts #6 and #7

I resolve not to speak of the faults of others but to be understanding and sympathetic.

I resolve not to praise myself and disparage others, but to overcome my own shortcomings.
by Caroline Devane

These precepts seem self-explanatory and clear, right? For the first few years of my coming to the Zen Center I see now that, in a way, I dismissed the precepts because they seemed so obvious: “Oh yeah, of course you don’t lie, cheat, steal, kill, etc.! No problem!” What I didn’t see or understand was their continual applicability, that they weren’t commandments from above that only applied to rarified situations, but they describe mindful living. Their subtlety is great and unless our awareness is gauged to that level of subtlety, easy to dismiss as obvious. Apparent truths are easy to overlook.

Recently, someone unconnected with the Zen Center asked me a few questions about Buddhist practice. He was amazingly curious about practice, but was avowedly committed to a different tradition. He asked me if the practice of zazen changes your behavior in any way, to which I replied that it can. I tried to explain that, given enough time and effort, our sensitivity to the world deepens and brings with it a deeper morality. If engaged in regular zazen, we start to notice our imperfections. My questioner looked confused, so I tried to elaborate on what it means to develop sensitivity to one’s missteps by saying, “Haven’t you ever said something to someone and then walked away and felt like a jerk?” I was then going to say that for some, practicing zazen helps one to catch oneself sooner – that one’s awareness of one’s unskillful actions, and further, the motivations behind such actions, becomes clearer if one works at it. I remember one of our former members describing a new-found sensitivity to ants after a sesshin. He was walking to the train stop and, looking at the ground as he walked, fumbled so as to not step on an ant that was directly underfoot. In terms of these precepts, though, what a different feeling it is to encounter someone who used to really push your buttons and catch yourself before you retort with something unkind. Or even nominally unkind. It’s the need to defend oneself in the face of oftentimes imagined opposition that has gotten me in trouble. If Zen can teach us to open up and let it go, and that opening this way is morality itself, then in those situations where we walk away feeling like jerks, we can still find the courage to hold ourselves accountable.

But all of the above went unsaid in the dialogue with this fellow. To my question if he’d ever said something he regretted, he replied, “No. I am very careful about what I say, and I never hurt anyone’s feelings.”

Really? Perhaps this person actually is perfect and has never said anything out of place! But for the purpose of this article, let’s assume for a moment that this person is simply unaware of himself. We often are not aware of the impact we have on people, especially when it means we would have to admit to ourselves that we did something wrong. Or maybe the pain of realizing that we screw up is too great, and we get trapped in believing that, most of the time, we don’t screw up. I believe this was the attitude behind my initial understanding of these precepts. Simply because I believed that the precepts described the right way to live somehow made me feel like I was living the right way. What a conclusion! And a convenient way of avoiding pain.

The precepts are obvious, self-explanatory, and clear. Yet it seems there are two ways to see them as obvious, self-explanatory, and clear: with self or without self. One way is the way of my questioner (and a way I am familiar with): “Of course I don’t kill, steal, abuse, lie, act stingy, angry, ignorant, greedy, or mean! I am an upstanding person who does his best to be nice, generous, gentle, open, nurturing, sympathetic, understanding, compassionate, and clean!” Speaking from experience, in this position there is a lot of effort to retrace the lines around “who I am.” The other way (echoing the precept itself) is to approach the precepts with the willingness to overcome our shortcomings. It’s a willingness to let the ego take a blow, and not ignore the truth of the situation at hand, no matter how humbling or painful it may be. This alternate way places the evolving truth of the moment above our self-interest. Even if we’ve come to a place of admitting to ourselves that we have work to do, it’s only half the battle. The need to be brutally honest with ourselves about our unskillful actions and speech will never go away.

And in the end, since these precepts do not come to us from “on high,” but are really descriptions of how a skillful person lives, what do we do when faced with the brand of denial we may be encountering in my questioner? If my questioner can’t be brutally honest with himself about his past transgressions, it likely doesn’t fall to me to tell him. If I said something in response, would it really help? Perhaps it would be better to spend time looking at all the occasions in which I was so unskillful – the times I walked away feeling like a jerk.

Precept #5

On Intoxicants
by Seanna Tully

When Sensei first asked me to do the meal chants, I couldn’t help but chuckle to myself, “How does he know? I’m chanting to myself, I’m the hungry ghost.”

You see, when the precepts ask us to abstain from intoxicants, my primary choice of intoxicant is food. It can be overeating a meal and under-eating the next few, consuming lots of sugary food, partaking in restrictive diets, obsessing about the next meal or a particular food, and any other way the compulsive mind twists itself around into that dance between prohibitions and loss of inhibitions.

The fact is my choice of intoxicant is far from extraordinary. It’s a truly an American way of life. Our food is overloaded with highly refined carbohydrates like high fructose corn syrup, and additives like caffeine that cause the blood sugar levels to first rise unnaturally high and drop terribly low, leading to more carbohydrate cravings. So on and on the cycle goes. And that’s just the biochemical part.

Coming out of the holiday season, it seems that as an American citizen, I was born to consume. Commercials on television endlessly grab the mind’s attention to “Eat this,” or “Buy the next greatest and latest gadget.” By the end of this holiday week, the garbage is piled high on the curbside with emptied boxes, torn gift-wrap, and other skeletons from our holiday feast of consumption.

This “hungry ghost” cycle lives on in me as arms grab and eyes want without my conscious intervention in a given moment. It lives in 1,000 unconscious moments eating in front of the Internet or the television set. (Have you ever noticed how easy it is to consume entire bags of stuff while just sitting there, or how commercials lead to cravings for something else?) It lives on at parties when I’m eating because I’m uncomfortable, or in any particular moment when an emotion seems too difficult to bear. It lives on in that particular anxious moment and a need for escape until life, itself, takes on the tenor of this behavior of escape.

Escape from what, exactly? And who runs? There is an opportunity in that unbearable moment to see that we are much more than our old habits. Sometimes, I don’t feel so motivated to take those opportunities. But, ultimately, in order to change compulsive behavior, I’ve found it useful to become a student of my addictive process. Motivation comes from understanding, historically, the damage caused by continuing on the path I’ve been on, taking responsibility for what I’ve done, facing those that I’ve hurt, and resolving not to make the same mistakes. By numbing myself with food, I have failed to appreciate the gift of this precious life/moment and missed seeing when I’ve hurt the dear hearts of those around me.

Hence, Kapleau viewed the fifth precept on intoxicants as a gateway to breaking the others. The precept (1) and Buddhist literature, however, speak more directly against the use of alcohol and drugs. Ordinary observation of an intoxicated person clearly demonstrates that the loosening of inhibitions due to alcohol, marijuana or other inebriant can and often does result in poor judgment, promiscuous and rude behavior (2). It’s less obvious with compulsive behaviors like those related to food, or even trashy novels, romantic infatuations/encounters, the video games, and endless other compulsive distractions (3). Yet, the long-term effects of not learning to bear difficulties without a crutch or distraction are ultimately the same. The act of continually justifying and perpetuating one’s addictive behavior can cripple one’s ability to gain emotional maturity and wisdom from the bumps and bruises that come with life. It’s the “Big Baby” syndrome as coined by the folks at AA. Those innately human and childlike voices in us that say: “That’s not fair!” “Life should be going according to my plan” and “Why me?” Emotional maturity arises when we learn to take ourselves by the hand as gently and firmly as we need and let go in the midst of all life’s turmoil. Once attention is given, the voices usually quiet down and what actually remains and what needs to be attended to is a bit clearer.

Sometimes I’ve found that willing myself out of a compulsive behavior is a bit like trying to pull out a root from the ground that just won’t come. And, setting myself up with “emotional maturity” as bait (or any other bait) is utterly inadequate. Gaining, losing, forward, backward: is one better than the other? Changing for the sake of gaining an abstract notion of emotional maturity is ultimately about getting caught up in conditions. Craving… just craving…no craving…just no craving. But, while change is natural, we do have the will to steer ourselves in a direction that is healthier for us, and perhaps, for the world. That is, if we are not too preoccupied or intoxicated to notice.

On the practical end, what does this act of “steering” look like for me? One handy tool I learned from Sevan Sensei is to insert time between a desire and the gratification of a desire. With food, I generally need to have a plan which makes it easier to be more intentional and attentive about what, when and how I am eating and when I am not eating. So that I’ll take something I’m craving and put it into a future meal or snack I’ve planned. That way, I am less likely to be mindlessly shoving something into my mouth and then later regretting it. This waiting period also is effective in taking the pressure out of going “cold turkey” on other compulsive behaviors (4). For example, I’ve found it useful to have dates with myself to watch a movie or a TV show, rather than indulging an undercurrent of escapism by flipping on the TV, pouting, and tuning out.

Second, there are no foods or compulsive behaviors that are inherently evil (heinous acts of violence too complex to discuss here). Fundamentally, there is no “disease,” no “self” and no “God” to save this ‘self’ from a ‘diseased’ compulsive behavior. However, through experience and biochemical realities, there are certain foods that are more likely to illicit a compulsive response than others for me. I found that talking to a nutritionist helped to flesh out the details of how to better work with the biochemistry of craving in my body. Meditative practice, of course, is invaluable for working with addiction. While meditating for the sole reason of ending one’s addiction is a ultimately a dead end (5), practice does help to provide deeper insight into life’s problems and cultivates innumerable practical skills for dealing with the addictive process, from equanimity and letting go to angry determination and fiery will.

In practice, I can’t expect myself to maintain perfect adherence to my own guidelines, and ultimately the Buddhist precepts too, or I become terribly guilty and defeated. During a Teisho, Sevan Sensei once said of the precepts: “First, we have to forgive others for breaking them, and also to forgive ourselves for breaking them.” To borrow again from AA, “progress, not perfection” is a laudable goal here, one I usually try to keep in mind.

And now, as the offering plate passes my way, I tear off a piece of this writing as offering, circle it three times around…. “May it fill the ten directions and satisfy hunger in realms of darkness…”
“Oh hungry ghost, oh tortured spirit, abandon greed and rouse the desire for enlightenment!” [clappers]

1. CZC’s version reads: “I resolve not to cause others to take substances that impair the mind, nor to do so myself, but to keep the mind clear.”
2. Kapleau flushes out the complexities of alcohol and enlightenment in Five Pillars, see footnote 16, pg. 344.
3. As discussed in the Fall 2007 CZC discussion group on intoxicants: Recreational drugs, addictive prescription meds, stimulants, cigarettes, alcohol; Gambling; Romance and/or Sex, Pornography; TV, Internet, video games; Reading (esp Romance novels, Thrillers); Food, Fasting/Restricting, Speeding, Shopping and Runner’s high.
4. I’m not speaking on drug/alcohol addiction in this instance that may, most likely, require professional help.
5. A book I’ve found to be helpful on this topic is: Trungpa, Chogyam. Cutting through Spiritual Materialism. 2002. Shambhala.