126: Stress and Choice

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Stress versus Choice
We are stressing out
When we are on the commute.
What is up with that?

Continuing with our exploration of how to actualize a thoroughgoing Zen practice in the midst of life in the 21stCentury, we will take a closer look at one of the situations in which many of us find ourselves: the daily commute. Which would have been the furthest thing from the mind of Shakyamuni Buddha, or his descendants in India, China, and Japan — though the denizens of those areas of the globe are now fully immersed in the consequences of overpopulation and modern transportation, just as we are in America.

This segment of UnMind was originally part of an early effort to launch a podcast called Drive-Time Zen, designed for drive-time on the expressway during the daily commute, or while traveling on highways and byways. Commuting to and from work too often results in stressful times spent in gridlock, especially in major metro areas such as Atlanta. Even driving to your favorite vacation spot can become an arduous chore. This phenomenon is a uniquely modern-day manifestation of suffering, not shared by the Founder and Ancestors of Zen. But it also presents a learning moment, an opportunity to remember and embrace the compassionate teachings of Buddhism.

Zen’s unique style of meditation, zazen, is central to success in this effort. Of course, driving in today’s high-speed conditions should not be considered an opportunity for meditation for obvious reasons, as intense meditation can alter perception. Altering perception at 60 or 80 miles per hour is not necessarily a good idea. But the cardinal aspects of Zen’s meditation — upright posture; deep, abdominal breathing; and above all, exercising your full, undivided attention — can be helpful while in the driver’s seat.

The conflation of stress, choice, and Zen outlines the three dimensions of the situation: the emotions that we feel; the source, and potential relief, of the stress; and the attitudes from Zen we bring to bear on the particular case of the commute. I ask you to consider a major contributor to the frustration and stress level we frequently feel while on the commute: we feel we have no choice in the matter.

From what we might call the liberated viewpoint of Zen — liberated from convention — the reality is that, ultimately, we indeed have no determinative choice in certain matters, such as aging, sickness, and dying. But that we have no choice concerning more trivial daily affairs — such as submitting to the commute — is largely a delusion. In all such instances, the truth is that we do have other choices. The real reason we do not entertain the possibility of doing something different, is our fear of the consequences, known or unintended, that may follow from our actions.

This goes to the concept of karma, from a root Sanskrit word kr, meaning “to do or make”; in other words, to take action. If we take action, any kind of action, karmic consequences are sure to follow. The theory is a bit like the more familiar formulation, “for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction” from Newton’s Laws of Motion. However, there is not necessarily anything equal, nor exactly opposite, about the consequences that follow from actions we take in daily life. This is what makes the theory of karma so slippery. It is not a simplistic concept of linear cause and effect.

Other consequences in life — such as having a good marriage, a good job, an easy commute to work, and so on — are certainly better than the alternative, and may be conducive to spiritual awakening, as well. But they are not central to our basic happiness. We consider such attributes of life as peripheral, if not mere circumstance, though the daily grind can come to dominate our lives. But for those who follow the Zen way, the issue of awakening to our innate buddha-nature is paramount, a central concern, even in the midst of busy modern life. And the fact that most of us do not experience this kind of spiritual insight is regarded as the true source of our suffering and misery. Traffic congestion only exacerbates it.

Thus, the complex of circumstances that finds you driving in traffic while listening to my podcast on your daily commute, is just that: circumstantial. It can not be central to your happiness, though you may blame your frustration and distress on the circumstances.

Naturally, when we are unhappy, or angry, we look to hold something, or someone — other than ourselves — accountable. We can imagine that if only we did not have to drive to work every day, we would be happy. We complain that the powers-that-be should do something to fix this bumper-to-bumper mess. Or if only our company — the management, our boss — would simply allow us to use flex-time, or work from home to avoid the commute, then we would be happy.

But when we take an unvarnished look in the rearview mirror, on the many experiences of our lifetime, we will likely see that, indeed, the circumstances of our life have constantly changed, and frequently. Such stabilizing aspects of life as our career; place of employment; and friends and family connections; have often changed quite radically. And yet, we may not have been any happier for it, once we had settled into our new set of circumstances. Once the change becomes our “new normal,” we have the time to find other reasons to be dissatisfied, within the circumstances of our new situation.

If we are honest with ourselves, over time we come to see this disparity clearly, and its insidious effects. Things that we feel are “wrong” with daily life are easy to point out. But when those things change, we are all too ready, even eager, to put something else in their place. Or the fact that something changed that we did not want to change, becomes the updated version of what is wrong with the world. If not with the world, then what is wrong in my little world, that keeps me from being happy. And thus prevents my enjoying a completely wholesome lifestyle, and finding a fulfilling existence.

As a generic placeholder, we tend to relate all of these issues to income; or primarily, our relative lack of income. If only we won the lottery. If only we had inherited wealth. If only we somehow got lucky and struck it rich. Then, we could be happy. Because then, we wouldn’t have to commute to work. We wouldn’t have to do anything that we didn’t really want to do.

While there is some truth to this, and it is understandable that everyone is looking to get their “go-to-hell-money,” as it is called in business circles, retiring to a lifetime of ease, luxury, travel, godawful golfing; the ideal circumstances of the “lifestyles of the rich and famous” that many admire and aspire to. We would have achieved what is generally consider “doing well,” or “success.” As a relevant aside, Taoism asks, with its usual, incisive subtlety: “Which is more destructive: success or failure?”

When we look at the actual lifestyles of the rich and famous, we begin to see a few cracks in the façade. This is not simply schadenfreude, or class envy. But from a Zen perspective, once we have all the money we need, other aggravations will dependably insert themselves into the niche formerly occupied by our pressing need to pay the bills.

All the circumstances of life, including driving in traffic congestion on the expressway — when subsumed into the larger context of fundamental causes and conditions of existence — can be seen as rather trivial, not so bad after all. If we find ourselves stuck in a traffic jam, whether commuting to and from work or not, this is, for the present moment, our koan. A koan is an illogical riddle — a conundrum — one that we are facing in the present moment, and attempting to penetrate the deeper meaning of it.

In fact, no one actually needs to commute to work, in any absolute sense. No one needs to be driving in the ever-increasing traffic nightmare on our expressways. But not many people are willing to face the consequences of refusing to do so. Without going into all of the other obvious options that you may have in your life (you know them better than anyone else), just consider the consequences. What would be the worst-case scenario, if you decided, tomorrow, that you were not going to do this anymore? Or what if you decided — right now — to quit? Pull off at the next exit, and go back home, text the boss or “call in well”? Tell your boss that you will not be coming in today, because you no longer need to. You are okay now. You have awakened from the nightmare.

And then, consider the range of consequences to follow. It would not be the end of the world. It might be the end of your world, as you know it now. But it would not be the end of the world.

The main point here is that when you tell yourself that you have no choice, you are lying to yourself. Zen recognizes that we always have a choice. We have the choice to do the right thing in the circumstance; we have the choice to do the wrong thing in the circumstance; and we have the choice to do what may turn out to be neither right nor wrong, but simply a necessary change. Which of necessity entails taking a risk.

It should offer some comfort, or relief, to realize, and accept, that you are caught in this present, unpleasant circumstance of the traffic jam because of choices you have made, and choices that you continue to make. What you may not realize is that you are absolutely free to do something completely different. That is, as long as you are willing to watch all those dominoes fall. If you are able to let go of all of the attachments that you have to the things that would change, in ways intended and unintended, owing to your change of choice, then you can do whatever you damn well please, as my dad often said of my mother. Recalling Johnny Paycheck’s hit, “Take this job and shove it!”

For the moment, however, you can postpone this fundamental decision, the liberating but terrifying recognition of the reality of choice, in the face of stress. There is no hurry. This decision will still be waiting there for you, when you return to it. As my grandma would say, “Don’t worry about finishing that work; it will still be there when you come back to it.” You can rest comfortably in your car for now.

So please breathe deeply, sit up straight, and pay full attention. Some of the benefits of meditative practice can hitchhike along with you, driving to and from work or whatever other destinations to which the road takes you.

Hopefully, this discussion will have given you a broader context in which you can clearly see that this consequence — this koan in which you are sitting behind the wheel — is really of your own making, part and parcel of your life. It is a temporary consequence of a cascade of decisions you and others have made. It is not an accident.

When you have an opportunity, download the next UnMind, tune in next time. It is a choice you are making. Meanwhile, gassho, name of the Buddhist bow in Japanese. I am bowing to you, wishing you the best. May you be well, on or off the road.