Unfortunate

Generalities.

Generally, I don't end a relationship, the other person does.
Generally, I'm disappointed that the relationship ends, even in the exceptions that I ended the relationship.
Generally, I make friends with the women I've dated.
Generally, there's an awkward phase in the friendship, where I'm overly flirtatious and familiar.
Generally, the other person will meet someone new before I do.
Generally, we drift apart, but stay in sporadic touch.

I'm on the fourth generality right now with a friend of mine. This year, I started to make an effort to ask my friends to do things with me, instead of doing them on my own or not doing them at all, as a result we started hanging out a bit more often than we had been before, more often even then when we dated.

Often enough that my mind would wander and wonder what it would be like if we were together.

I never really dropped my flirtatiousness when we became friends. But the inside jokes and innuendoes started to flow more freely from my lips of late. Enough so that I apologized for it. I explained she was in the unfortunate position of being the last girl I was in a relationship with. I joked that I needed to start dating someone new soon before I cross a line and ruin our friendship.

Part of me wonders if I'm closer to that line than I think sometimes.

I realized later, that my solution to being inappropriately horny towards one friend, shouldn't be to make a new friend, it should be to control the attachment that's leading me to make an ass of myself.

I'm sure it's no coincidence that these lapses in willpower synchronize with my lack of a structured meditation practice.

It's refuge practice, am I seeking refuge in other people? or refuge in my meditation practice? Right now it's obvious, I'm seeking refuge in people.

When my meditation practice was strong, I didn't find myself daydreaming of rekindling a failed relationship, I wasn't searching for a new person to fill a void, sex was not my go to topic in any given conversation. Well, those parts of me weren't entirely gone necessarily, but they were under control at least.

So far I haven't ruined the friendship by being a doofus, but I'm pretty sure I was a better friend when I had more control over my mind. I need to gain control over my mind. I don't want the last generality to come to pass yet.

Slow Down

Tonight I went to see Medicine for Melancholy by myself, kind of fitting.

As I got out of my car I noticed a girl in a beige station wagon pull into the spot across from mine, she was holding her parking garage ticket in her mouth.

I pushed the button for the elevator, she was a few steps behind me, but the elevator closer to her *ding*ed first, so I was a few steps behind her into the lift.

She was cute, she had a medium long light brown coat on over a blue skirt, and patterned Keds. For some reason her calves and ankles grabbed my attention. She was tiny, but her legs were soft, curvy.

I awkwardly pulled my hand from my jacket pocket and put it in my pants pocket, but I'd forgotten I was wearing pants with shallow pockets, so it just felt weird. I was too self conscious of my fidgeting next to her in an elevator to move again.

Out of the elevator she stopped at the ATM, so I walked passed and up the steps to the theater.

As I bought my ticket she stepped up behind me, I heard her say "one for Medicine for Melancholy," I thought about the two of us going to see the movie alone, about how cute it would be to meet a girl at a movie about two strangers meeting.

Inside the theater I stopped for a sip a the water fountain, she stopped at the concession stand. The ticket taker said the filmmaker and actors would be in the theater for a Q&A after the show, a lucky night to see the flick I thought.

My chair was squeaky, I took off my coat when the cute girl from the parking lot sat across the isle from me, I was suddenly very self conscious in how I was tangling my arms in my coat.

I tried to casually glance, fleeting eye contact, she had a bright green vest on, her head was leaning on her hand, effectively putting a wall between us, so I stared intently at my yellow scarf. I thought about saying hi across the isle. Then I thought it would be better to talk after the film, maybe on the elevator down, ask what she thought. If I got down to my car before her, I wondered if I could leave her a note under her windshield wiper, signed "the boy across the isle."

She could be the first girl outside the internet I ask out on a date.

The movie was charming, it was refreshing to see a lot of themes and characters I'd never seen on screen before. I found myself wanting more dialogue cause the chemistry between the two leads was so strong, I felt like they leaned on "music montage" as a device too often, but at the same time, the soundtrack was great and the montages were exquisitely shot and edited.

Wyatt Cenac joined the growing group of actors I adore because I think they look like Buster Keaton.

Afterwards the filmmaker and cast had a nice Q&A after, there was only one "what camera did you use" question, the rest actually brought some insight into the writing, the politics, the acting. I spent most of the Q&A building up the courage to ask something, at one point I notice my heartbeat had gotten very loud just at the thought of speaking. I did raise my hand in the end, and asked about the sporadic dialogue and use of nonverbal interaction.

The filmmaker Barry Jenkins said since he was trying to show the life of a relationship compressed into twenty-four hours and how he wanted to reflect how we don't spend our whole life talking. The answer made me feel a little better about wanting more dialogue.

And then we left. I got up first, from the corner of my eye I saw the girl across the isle gather her coat.

Up the isle, into the foyer, the exit doors were locked, so I went to leave through the entrance. At the stairs I thought "you're walking too fast, slow down, you'll be driving off before she's even got her coat on."

I didn't slow down.

"What's your hurry? It's not like you can wait for her, you have to cross paths naturally."

Maybe if I stopped to pay my parking ticket at the machine she would appear behind me.

I shared an elevator with a janitor and well dressed man.

"Maybe you can leave a cute note."

"Why did you walk so fast?"

As I walked to my car I looked to where her car was parked, but I didn't see it. She hadn't beaten me down, but I could have sworn she'd driven an old beige station wagon, there was no such car. Which car was hers? Not the Mini, the Jetta?

I started to wonder about perception and memory and how things aren't always what they seem. Why did I remember an old beige station wagon? As I pulled out of my parking spot I saw her step out of the elevator, I felt my foot tap the breaks.

I circled around to the exit and saw her get in the white Jetta. I felt my foot on the breaks again, like I would stop my car and knock on her window, like that wouldn't be the most terrifying thing a person could do.

Maybe she would be behind me driving up to the gate, maybe I could talk to her from car window to car window.

She wasn't behind me at the gate, she wasn't behind me at the exit ramp, she wasn't behind me when I finally turned back onto Sunset Blvd. That didn't stop my eyes from noticing every white car in my rear view mirror all the way home.

The scene played in my head, "what did you think of the movie?"

"I was going to go to Mashti Malone's for ice cream, care to join me?"

Earlier today, my teacher said it was interesting that I was experiencing attachment while teaching on attachment to my students, like it was obviously a lesson I needed to hear myself. Funny that she reminded me of that today, before I found myself following another float down the parade route.

As I drove home I remembered something I wanted to say to my students on Tuesday, that we get attached to people because we focus on their good qualities until we exaggerate them and create a person who doesn't exist, then we forget that they're a person, a person trying to find their own happiness, a person trying to get through their own life and their own problems.

So I said that to myself. At the same time I imagined writing a medicinal melancholic missed connection on craigslist. Then I remembered how I misremembered her car, and started to wonder if I could even describe the girl, was it a blue skirt or a blue dress? A green vest or a green scarf? Her coat was yellow, no brown. Was she brunette or ginger? She was wearing a knit cap wasn't she? I thought she was.

As I tried to create an image in my head she began to disappear. A teaching on emptiness, the woman I saw didn't exist to begin with because I was grasping at my perception of her, and my perception was mistaken. A few brief glances and I'd already created an imaginary person, had an imaginary conversation and gone out for imaginary ice cream.

Empty.

Teachers

One of these stories has been on my mind lately, the other I just found randomly while searching for something entirely unrelated.

Pilot Chesley "Sully" Sullenberger who landed the plane in the Hudson was thoughtful enough to contact his local library to explain the book he'd borrowed was in the hull of the sunken plane.

Such a simple thing, but it showed such an awareness. Also: ironic book topics, how I adore you. [thanks to Kate for finding this]

Julio Diaz, when a mugger pulled a knife on him on the subway platform, gladly gave his wallet, offered the kid his coat and treated him to a meal.

When the bill arrived, Diaz told the teen, "Look, I guess you're going to have to pay for this bill 'cause you have my money and I can't pay for this. So if you give me my wallet back, I'll gladly treat you."

The teen "didn't even think about it" and returned the wallet, Diaz says. "I gave him $20 ... I figure maybe it'll help him. I don't know."

Diaz says he asked for something in return — the teen's knife — "and he gave it to me."

Afterward, when Diaz told his mother what happened, she said, "You're the type of kid that if someone asked you for the time, you gave them your watch."

"I figure, you know, if you treat people right, you can only hope that they treat you right. It's as simple as it gets in this complicated world."

Once in class we were told about a monk in England, who was held at knife point at a train stop after a soccer game, the attacker said "give me a reason not to kill you," and the monk replied "because you have a kind heart." The guy let him go.

Ever since I heard that story I always wondered what I would do when faced with that kind of situation. I imagine I'd be able to hand over my wallet and keys, but perhaps not as calmly as in my fantasies. To take it a step further like Julio, to not just give freely, but offer more, offer real help, that's a Bodhisattva action.

Thai Try

One afternoon last fall I was at my favorite Saturday night comfort food place, waiting for my carry out.

There were two other people at two other tables, a boy with a book and a girl with a dog. Both were my age, both were cute, him in a flannel and a bit'o'fluff'scruff do and her in casual t'n'jeans and long dark curls. I was getting my weekly fix of the Onion in print. Between the three of us we encapsulated most twenties-ish dorks. I can't remember if I rode my Vespa that day.

The waitress brought long dark curls her meal, the girl hesitated with her fork, "you wanna try it?" she asked fluff'n'scruff.

The boy only took his eyes off the book for a moment, "no thanks you go on."

Her shoulders dropped slightly, and she pushed her food around once before eating.

I imagined awkward small talk between them before I arrived, something about his book, something about her dog. When the waitress took their orders I gather he must have said something, "I always wanted to try that," something that would have gave her the courage to try and start a new conversation by offering him a bite.

Courageous was the first thing that came to my mind. The bravery she demonstrated to try to break the deafening silence and connect to a person beside her, whether flirting or friendly.

Heartbroken was the second thing that came to mind. I could count the number of times I've initiated talking to strangers in my life without taking off my shoes. They all ended in a similar limp rejection. It takes all my energy and courage to start one conversation, if that doesn't take then I'm done for.

I don't know if she was actually disappointed or depressed by the abbreviation of their meet cute. I'm nothing if not a projector of the world around me. I know if it were me, the scene would have played in a loop in my mind, not always to kick myself, sometimes to fantasize an alternate ending.

Part of me wanted to give her a hug, but that's coddling. What I really wanted to do is shake her hand and say how impressed and inspired I was by her effort.

She tried.

Which is more than I do most days. These days I avoid any situation where I might even come into contact with strangers. Last night was the first time I'd been in my favorite comic book shop in months. Even in the safety of the meditation center, I only talk to the people I know comfortably.

But months later I still remember this girl's small effort, and I want to be like that. Ultimately, I want to be like my dad, who can talk to anyone, about anything, in any situation, but lets not get ahead of ourselves.

Date

Of course, coming back from a wedding, depressed and lonely, I find myself on a dating website again.

I still haven't reconciled Buddhism and dating. The ability to create happiness from within, versus the deluded desires to find happiness and wholeness in another person. If I accept that there is no external happiness, why am I dating? But Buddhism doesn't mean you live alone the rest of your life. Even Buddha had a wife and child. And I know Buddhism is an internal path, which means the external path doesn't matter, whether I'm single or with someone, it's my mind that matters. There's nothing inherent about being single or in a relationship, nothing inherently good or bad about either.

When I brought his question up during a Valentine's day class, the teacher said that even though we need to train on fighting our attachments and equalizing our love for others, that the act of dating doesn't have to mean judgment and rejection if we're training our mind in love and compassion. Equalizing our love for others doesn't mean that our choice of partner is meaningless either. Our Karmic connections to people can create all kinds of opportunities for our practice.

I sent two messages to two women. one responded, so I sent a second message, no response to that yet. My mind is quick to write it off as another silent rejection, I can hear my delusions pounding at the gate. I don't' know what I'm doing. I don't know what I expect from all this. I don't know what the point is.

Cycle

I rode my bike to work today, as I do most Fridays now.

I had overtime. Leaving work after dark I decided, instead of riding through the neighborhood side streets, I would just take the straight shot home down Santa Monica. It's better lit and at 8:30pm, not so heavily trafficked as during rush hour.

Turning the corner from my work, the light was red. I pulled up to the light in the middle of the right lane. I don't know why I took the middle of the lane. Maybe I was emboldened by my Vespa driving, maybe it's because the right lane side of Santa Monica is a mess, maybe it's because there were cars parked on the street ahead and I wanted to make sure I wasn't going to get pushed into them while riding along side a car.

An SUV pulled up in the lane beside me and a woman in the passenger seat rolled down her window and proceeded to scold me for sitting in the middle of the lane.

I was caught completely off guard by such animosity from a stranger.

I fumbled in response, apologizing and saying the my lane ended up ahead. What I meant was that there were parked cars on the right up ahead and I was going to have to own the lane for a bit until I passed them. She made sure to point out that there is no bicycle lane, I confirmed as much and then the light turned green and they were gone.

Physically gone at least. Because I couldn't shake her from my mind the rest of the ride home. Why was she so angry with me? What happened to her that she sees a cyclist trying to ride safely at night, and just fills with rage?

During the half hour ride, I went from shock, to upset, to depressed, to wanting to cry, to needing to pee, to feeling sorry for her and her anger, to saying mantras to try to calm my mind. I tried to feel love and compassion, but fear, embarrassment and anger were stronger.

I must have cycled through a hundred witty retorts, articulate responses, and angry retaliations. Playing the scenario back over and over, like a crazy person.

I tried to remember that we have no way of knowing if a person we meet is actually a person, or an emanation of a Buddha. I tried to figure out what a Buddha would be teaching me through this angry woman. The faults of anger? My own awareness as a selfish bike rider taking a whole lane? Testing to see if I could hold love for someone being mean to me? A lesson in privilege, showing me what it's like for less fortunate people, who are faced with random irrational anger every day?

I wondered what causes I'd created in the past. I wondered about my depression ripening negative seeds. I thought about how chilling her expression was, how our delusions manipulate us until we don't see the living being in front of us as anything relatable. I found myself wanting to sit down with her and tell her about my day, just so she would see me as human.

She didn't see me as human, she saw me as a mara, a demon blocking a lane with its bicycle.

If I had more wisdom, I would have known what to say, if I had more patient acceptance, I wouldn't have been shocked or upset, if I had more love and compassion I wouldn't have gotten angry.

Depression Kills

As someone who's been depressed for the majority of his adult life, I know the warning signs.

In college it was facial hair, the random desire to grow my beard even though my facial hair is ridiculous. I stopped that symptom after I left school. Now a days it's mostly the cleanliness of my apartment.

The amount of grime in my bathtub, the pile of papers on my desk, the number of dishes in my sink.

In two weeks I let the dishes get out of hand. A few days ago I realized things went too far when I found fruit flies.

I immediately pulled the dishes out of the sink and washed them one by one, trying to keep water from splashing on the circling flies. Some washed down the drain. I said mantras.

I had the thought, "this is how my depression effects others." Sometimes my delusions convince me that it's ok, cause the only one I'm hurting is me, but that's not true.

I'm passive aggressive to my friends. I snap at my workmates. I allow the causes and conditions of my sink to breed fruit flies that I then kill. The state of my mind effects the world around me in very direct, tangible ways. I need to remember that.