So Kellie and I went to that Buddhist meditation class, and Mark decided to join us. He's been reading this book, which is all about staying in the present and learning to acknowledge your thoughts and emotions without letting them rule you, so he was interested in putting these ideas into guided practice. The class began with a 10-minute meditation, then there was a 30-minute lecture, and then it ended with another 10-minute meditation.
The topic of the lecture was, eerily, moral responsibility. The lecturer talked about how most of us define moral responsibility as ignoring our urges or giving up what we think is fun in order to be "good," a state of being that in theory seems boring and devoid of much tangible reward. However, the true definition of moral responsibility, she explained, is actually choosing to ignore urges to do what we think is fun not to be "good" but because what might seem exciting and fun in the moment could actually deeply hurt us and other people in the long run (karma). She likened it to a child wanting to touch a flame because it looks so pretty. You might tell him not to do it, and he might answer, "But I want to! I want to touch it!" Until he touches the flame, he thinks his mother is trying to keep him from having fun rather than keeping him from getting burned. This is why we accept moral irresponsibility in children--they're still learning that there are consequences to their actions, and why we refuse to accept it in adults--they should know better after years of trial and error.
The lecturer also cautioned that sometimes we don't see the immediate consequences of our actions. Sometimes the flame burns us days, months or years after we've touched it. Sometimes it only burns us after touching it over and over again, and it becomes a habit or an addiction.
I really liked Buddhism's common-sense approach to morality: Don't refrain from doing something because it will piss off God, refrain from doing it for your own happiness. I grew up Catholic and was used to hearing that I shouldn't do certain things because if I did, I would burn in Hell. The idea of Hell was so abstract and seemingly so far off that it was difficult for me to accept it as a real punishment. But I've always been pretty analytical, so even as a little kid, it was easy for me to identify the real-life reasons for why I should or shouldn't do something the Bible said. Maybe I developed these tools of analysis because my parents always explained the reasons behind their rules. Anway, it wasn't too hard for me to see that commiting sins could actually make for a Hell on earth. For example, if you commit adultery, you might eventually face eternal damnation. But in the here and now you might also face a broken family, STDs and losing your job, among several other consequences.
On the flip side, addicts seem unable to map out consequences or identify the practical reasons behind rules. I've known many addicts in my lifetime, and I've always been incredulous that, in their quest to assert their independence and rebel from authority--touching the flame because mommy says not to, they don't stop to contemplate how they might wind up hurting themselves. Maybe it's because they've been doing it over and over and the pain still hasn't come. The lecture made me contemplate how "hitting bottom" might be that moment of karma when the blister turns into a third-degree burn.
The topic of the lecture was, eerily, moral responsibility. The lecturer talked about how most of us define moral responsibility as ignoring our urges or giving up what we think is fun in order to be "good," a state of being that in theory seems boring and devoid of much tangible reward. However, the true definition of moral responsibility, she explained, is actually choosing to ignore urges to do what we think is fun not to be "good" but because what might seem exciting and fun in the moment could actually deeply hurt us and other people in the long run (karma). She likened it to a child wanting to touch a flame because it looks so pretty. You might tell him not to do it, and he might answer, "But I want to! I want to touch it!" Until he touches the flame, he thinks his mother is trying to keep him from having fun rather than keeping him from getting burned. This is why we accept moral irresponsibility in children--they're still learning that there are consequences to their actions, and why we refuse to accept it in adults--they should know better after years of trial and error.
The lecturer also cautioned that sometimes we don't see the immediate consequences of our actions. Sometimes the flame burns us days, months or years after we've touched it. Sometimes it only burns us after touching it over and over again, and it becomes a habit or an addiction.
I really liked Buddhism's common-sense approach to morality: Don't refrain from doing something because it will piss off God, refrain from doing it for your own happiness. I grew up Catholic and was used to hearing that I shouldn't do certain things because if I did, I would burn in Hell. The idea of Hell was so abstract and seemingly so far off that it was difficult for me to accept it as a real punishment. But I've always been pretty analytical, so even as a little kid, it was easy for me to identify the real-life reasons for why I should or shouldn't do something the Bible said. Maybe I developed these tools of analysis because my parents always explained the reasons behind their rules. Anway, it wasn't too hard for me to see that commiting sins could actually make for a Hell on earth. For example, if you commit adultery, you might eventually face eternal damnation. But in the here and now you might also face a broken family, STDs and losing your job, among several other consequences.
On the flip side, addicts seem unable to map out consequences or identify the practical reasons behind rules. I've known many addicts in my lifetime, and I've always been incredulous that, in their quest to assert their independence and rebel from authority--touching the flame because mommy says not to, they don't stop to contemplate how they might wind up hurting themselves. Maybe it's because they've been doing it over and over and the pain still hasn't come. The lecture made me contemplate how "hitting bottom" might be that moment of karma when the blister turns into a third-degree burn.
2 comments:
As both a multiple addict in recovery from my own and other's addictions and a buddhist, I found your idea that hitting bottom might be a kind of karmic 3rd degree burn fascinating. And it may well be so.
At the same time, hitting bottom has an element of good fortune to it - in Narcotics Anonymous they talk about the gift of desperation. Many of us don't hit bottom through the "worst" thing happening... sometimes it's something relatively trivial to an outsider. So perhaps there's an element of having simply worn out whatever karma was preventing us from seeing the truth of what we were doing?
I've heard it taught that karma is the most complex subject in buddhism - and that it takes a buddha to fully understand its workings. But it's an undeniable fact that any addict in active addiction simply doesn't recognise the suffering caused by their own actions... and learning to do so is an essential part of recovery.
Great post... thanks!
Thanks for stopping by, Dakinijones. And thank you also for your thoughts on karma. You're obviously much more versed in Buddhism than I am, and I enjoyed hearing how maybe it's not karma finally catching up but instead wearing out.
I really loved the meditation class I mentioned in this post--the duality of simplicity and complexity in Buddhism really appealed to me. I'll definitely stop by your blog to check out how Buddhism is helping you heal.
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