I did that today: I replaced two toilet paper holders. Holy shit, you say, how fucking lame is that? Are you kidding me? Who says that kind of crap?
I do. I was squeezed into a tiny little space long ago, and crushed. For many years I have spent hours each day on the internet, and next to no time cleaning or organizing. I have a good art collection on my walls, but beyond that, I have barely done anything.
The internet, I see, is one way I avoid life. Drinking is another. Intellectualizing is another. For many people this role is played by watching TV or playing video games.
Nobody really wants to be alone with themselves when they have a lot to deal with. But before TV, you had a lot less distractions. It was far less easy to escape, which meant that most people on some level had to come to grips with life and living. Now, it can be postponed indefinitely. If you get an Information Age job, you never, anywhere, have to encounter messy emotions. You can push them out there, and act childishly your whole life. The only reckoning is death itself.
And what I am realizing is that life can be really good when you touch it, shake its hand, make friends with it. There are so many fun things you can do. Every day can be FILLED with accomplishments, each of which you can take pleasure in. You cooked a meal: pride. You organized everything: pride. You worked out: pride.
And all of these things put together do in fact equal considerable actual, real accomplishment over time. They are how you get “switched on”.
I think that was John Wooden’s great secret: he derived pleasure from every exertion of every day. Every movement he made in the direction of perfection filled him with joy, and even at times elation. He was happy in every practice, and every game, and in PREPARING for the practice and the game, all by himself, often.
My current Kum Nye level has me looking for joy. They say it is sometimes hidden at the bottom corner of your experience, or partially hidden behind a veil. It is a blinking light you only slowly become aware of. It is a faint melody or scent, almost too ephemeral and ethereal to catch, but which leaves a stronger impression for it. It was there, dammit, I know it was there.
I have reached a point where I look at people differently, or at least I have. I was driving down my main drag two or three days ago–a pleasant series of shops and trendy bars–and realizing that before I saw how everyone was suffering. Now, I see that I actually may be in a position soon to help them do something about it. It is not an innate human condition: it is a potentially temporary condition, brought on by ignorance. There are tools and methods and ideas which can alter states at a fundamental, deep level, and do so permanently.
This, I think, is the essence of the Buddha’s insight. He saw pain, but he also saw a way out.