Respect

There are such deep-seated habit patterns that operate when we live in community. Here we are, bumping up against fellow-travellers we would never have chosen, had we any say in the matter. Forced into the pot together, our neuroses and delusions emerge reflexively, and contrary to our deepest hopes for our lives and the situation.

It seems to be my karma to fall into a sequence of events that culminates in separating myself from others, then complaining that I feel unincluded and disrespected! This begins as an attempt to avoid the inevitable frictions of family-dorm-lab-monastery life once the honeymoon phase of being a charming new person in a charming new environment wears off. Habitually, I pull inward and retract into myself. I become so sensitized to any negative interaction that I will both stew endlessly over a particular interpersonal relationship, and intentionally "check out" in group situations. I grumble to myself that I am not appreciated, as I do nothing to merit appreciation, as I cultivate a simmering poor attitude and low productivity.

In this latest round, as I find myself in the old familiar states of mind, I am realizing: somewhere along the line, I lost respect for myself because others were failing to reinforce my self-esteem. It's not their job to do so, and in this environment of intense inner work, the people around me cannot be expected to be kind. I must generate my own love, and my own respect, too. Lab was the same way: a brief period of being special, new, and exciting, followed by years of mild contempt. In reacting to others' judgements, or perceived judgements, I take upon myself a patina of inadequacy and contemptibility. From there, the judgements are confirmed and solidified. Regardless of what others thought of me, they now interact with a person who operates from a debased position. Somehow I end up collaborating in my own demise.

The irony of the situation is that there is plenty about me to respect, but it's not the things that I was taught to value. Nobody here cares (anymore) about my intellectual accomplishments, and in retrospect it seems that I was tolerated and coddled for a short time, as guests and short-term residents are, until became I normal and no-longer-adorable. (That transition is a natural one; the only unnatural thing is, perhaps, the excessive kindness that precedes normalcy.)

Not being able to hold vulnerability is really the key here. After a certain period of time, it's impossible to maintain the facade, and anger follows close on the heels of the vulnerability that is exposed as the hours of meditation-- and the general lack of being able to live life as you'd wish to--begin to take effect. It's easy to forget that just this fact-- that we live in a monastery and practice as unfailingly and wholeheartedly as we can-- is something of value, and worthy of respect.

The good news here is twofold. On one hand, I can't control what others think of me. Zen students have long been urged to put no stake in praise or blame by others. I am in charge of my own practice, and while I rely on others to reflect me to myself, I need to acknowledge that they are living their own lives and working through their own stuff, which will occasionally get vented on me. Trying to predict or prevent that pain only turns me into a scared little person. If I know myself and am grounded in who-I-am, then whatever projections I feel are harmless. I've felt (or thought I felt) the story that I'm an idiot, a bothersome loudmouth, a slut, an iron-willed bitch, and a variety of other positive and negative imaginings; the stories of others are as false as whatever story *I* might have about who I must be. If I have no particular agenda about who I must be, and no image to defend, then no projection makes contact. It's as if a punch is thrown into empty space.

On the other hand, it turns out that I *can* control what others think of me. In my demeanor and action, I can communicate respect for myself, accompanied by respect for others. If I lead with a spirit of self-effacement; if I make a request assuming it will be rejected; if I try to bluster through by way of compensation-- all these close off options and give the interaction a negative flavor before it's even begun.

Inspired by something Chozen said, I decided to act "as if." As if I have an affectionate relationship with a person. As if I merit consideration. As if I value the other person unreservedly. As if we are collaborators rather than antagonists. It sounds simple, but it's certainly not my habit to behave in such a way. And it works. You're thinking, "of course it works-- that ends the story on a feel-good note." But it really works; it works in ways words don't describe. The situation is changed by deciding to embody a certain energy. This is so simple, so natural and yet so very unnatural.