This is important

Okay, I need you to stay with me the whole time on this one...

I mentioned in an ealier post that I had an encounter with a woman and her daughter and that, in that encounter, my gut reaction was to treat them with dignity and respect. I've been thinking a lot about that enounter and I honestly believe that the reason I did that was because I have been bowing and chanting and not thinking.
And this is why I need you to stick with me on this one. For me, it doesn't make sense that the least personable/ least feeling/ most mindless aspects of this practice are what actually lead me to have the most feeling: to treat an absolute stranger with dignity and respect.

It started with bowing, during sesshin. I bow a lot at the zen center. I do the whole full-prostration-bow thing during ceremonies, but most of my bowing at the zen center...is social. Bowing is how you acknowledge each other: it's kind of like a hello, kind of like a hug, not really a handshake. And, I have to admit, that I bow differently to different people at the zen center. I do the we're-passing-in-the-hallway simple dip of the body bow, the yay-my-friend deep bow, and the oooh-it's-the-abbot hope I get it right bow.
But during sesshin, I did none of this. During sesshin, I did a completely different kind of bowing. 
See, during sesshin the rule is that you're not allowed to make eye contact. This always made sense to me. People are dealing with all kinds of stuff, and not having to make eye contact keeps you from feeling like you have to put on a happy face or worry about your interaction with someone. But it also keeps you from knowing who you're bowing to.
During sesshin, I bowed to whoever passed me in the hallway. I bowed to whoever sat next to me at lunch. I bowed to whoever sat next to me in the zendo. I bowed to whoever sat next to me at tea. I bowed, to any...body and I bowed the same to everybody because I had no idea who I was bowing to. I didn't bow more to the person who brought me kleenex when I cried, I didn't bow more to the practice leaders, I didn't bow more or less to anyone. I bowed to everyone....the same.
And to me, this seems really cold- this practice of bowing to everyone the same- it feels like you have no feeling, like you don't care about anyone, like you won't acknowledge the individuality of all these people around you- you're just bowing because you bow.

And then I thought back to that encounter I had with the woman and her daughter. I thought about what made me stop and give her the space and respect that she deserved. What stopped  me, was my body. It was a habitual response, a habit I had developed after spending a week of stopping and bowing to any body that I encountered during sesshin. My mind definintely noticed that I was rushing past her. My mind noticed that I wouldn't have passed her if she were someone else. But it wasn't my mind that made me stop. I didn't think and stop, I stopped without thinking.

And then it hit me: This, is compassion.

Compassion isn't feeling for your friends and family. Compassion isn't feeling for a victim. Compassion isn't feeling for the perpetrator. Compassion isn't even feeling for that person whom no can seem to feel for.
True compassion is feeling indiscrimately. It's not feeling more for one person or less for someone else. It's not feeling so that something will change about them. It's not judging their actions or valuing their worth. It's feeling for someone because you feel for someone. It's feeling without thought, without judgment, without value.

And that's what I did with this woman. I just stopped because she was another human being. On the surface, this feels really cold, like I'm only stopping for her because she-is-just-another-human-being. But in practice, this is what I want to do. I want to treat everyone with dignity and respect, I want to give everyone the space that they deserve, I want to have compassion for you, regardless of who you are and what you are doing.

And then I thought about the practices at the zen center that have been difficult for me, the ones that felt really mindless: follow the schedule, don't try so hard to figure this out, just show up. I thought about chanting and how mindless it feels, how insincere it seems, and how much I feel like I'm giving up my own voice, just becoming a part of this monotone drone of sounds.

Then I thought about Buddhism and how many of its practices have made me feel like I had to give up my feelings: don't get caught up in emotions (don't relish the good times or try to end the bad), don't value one thing over another (don't see "good" as any better than "bad"), and give up youself: your thoughts, your perceptions, your ideas about who is who and what is what.

And I thought, "Oh, all of this is practice in bowing-because-you-bow. All of this removal of judgment- the whole 'is hot really hot? is cold really cold?- that keeps you from thinking that you know that person, that you know what's going on with them and that you know how you should respond to them. You don't. You don't know anything about them and even if you did it wouldn't matter. All they need is your respect and your compassion.
And the valuing thing? The not liking happy over sad, pleasure over pain, pleasant over difficult... We are bombarded with messages about good and evil, clean and dirty, safe and dangerous all day long. And these messages get transferred to people and scenarios and neighborhoods and they keep us from seeing each other as who we are: human beings. Removing this valuing system, that's what allows us to connect, to reach out, to treat each other as equal human beings.
And thoughts- my arch enemy and best friend. I have been studying issues of race, prejudice, privilege, etc. for ten years now. And this studying has definitely allowed me to see my habits, my values, my actions, and the systems in our society that have created and continue to support these actions that often benefit me at the detriment of others. But for all that thinking I never really stopped and saw everyone as equal to me, until I stopped thinking and just felt for the people around me.

I think that this is the only way that the Dalai Lama can do what he does. If he thought about the things that people have done, if he considered their actions within some sort of value system, there is no way that he could meet people with the compassion that he does. When he meets people, I don't think he thinks about them, I don't think he values them one way or another, I think he just meets everyone, equally. (but I have no idea, I've never met him and I certainly don't want to speak for what he does...)

And so I guess that's what this practice is about: giving up those thoughts that separate us, giving up those values that justify our treatment of each other as more or less than, giving up the self that makes the decision to love one person more than another.

Okay, I'm done, you made it, you stayed with me the whole time. Thanks.