I really admire generosity and compassion in others. And I see it quite a bit in others. The other day as I was driving my passenger asked me to stop to give a bag of food to a roadside beggar. I've driven past hundreds of needy people, but have never stopped. And I've walked by hundreds of panhandlers and almost never have given anything. Where some give 5% of their earnings to charity, I've never given that much, and as I get older and richer I give less and less. And, no, I'm not generous in other venues, not with my time or energy. I rarely remember my relatives birthdays or aniversaries. I can give other examples.
I wanted to be quite clear about this because otherwise I might give you the wrong impression. I want to be sure the reader understands that although I have a bit of credibility having done a heroic act, I am certainly not a hero. And not actually a very generous or compassionate person. I want to establish my credibility on doing a heroic act without claiming to be a hero, or even a particularly nice person.
Here in the US there are many people who's kidneys do not function. To live, they undergo dialysis several times a week and have many difficulties. The difficulties are such that some prefer to die. It's very hard on people. Many of these people can be cured of their kidney failure by receiving a transplant. Mostly, kidneys are harvested from a deceased donors. Some receive transplants from relative. As it turns out, if you (and yes, I do mean you) are otherwise healthy, you can donate one of your kidneys to a friend or relative with little risk to your health. But that still leaves many people living for years on dialysis, and dying from renal failure when they could have been saved. Donating a kidney actually saves a life.
My local kidney transplant service has done hundreds of kidney transplants. Family members helping a relative who has renal failure, friends helping friends. The interesting thing is, and it is not well advertised, is that you don't have to know someone in need to donate a kidney. This type of donation is called non-directed donation, or anonymous donation. It is not very common. I was the eleventh person to do this at my local transplant service.
I bring all this up for two reasons. First, to tell you to consider doing the same thing. The second is to say that someone referred to those of us who have donated a kidney anonymously as a "hero". That really floored me. Sure, it is a heroic gesture - to perhaps put yourself at some risk for someone else. But few things will get me more angry than someone trying to call me a "hero".
"Heros" only exist in them minds of boys who read comic books. And I say this having met a man who was medic and who's mind has been shattered by his experiences in Vietnam. I work daily with veterans and my respect for them has no bounds. And yet there is not a hero among them.
There are simply only two kinds of people, those who step up and do the right thing in whatever the present moment is sending to them, and those who shy away from doing the right thing. Mostly, thank god, the present moment has never been too challenging for me. Really, I've only done a few very heroic things. The first time was when I went skydiving, and sitting on the edge of an open door high above ground I jumped out. It was the right thing to do, and distinctly difficult. The next was about an hour before the kidney donation. The nursing staff had me undress completely, put on a hospital gown and then lie down in a heated bed. They explained that removing a kidney from a body that was nice and warm goes better than if the donor is cold. On the one hand it was nice, as I get anxious I also get cold, so it was nice to be in warm bed. But it was then that I was struck with the frailty of my puny, quite tentative existence. I was really afraid. But I did it. Donating my left kidney was the best thing I've ever done.
It was a heroic act, but I am not a hero. What we are doing right now - in the present moment - defines us as either a hero or simply your average Joe.
Yesterday I also did something a bit heroic. I jumped off a 25 foot cliff into the White Salmon River in Washington state. I was on a white water rafting trip, and half way we had to portage our boat around an impassable waterfall. As the trail got close to the base of the fall, we were given an option. We could either leap 25 feet off a cliff into the pool were the rafts were waiting for us, or we could continue to hike down the trail to the rafts. The right thing for me to do was jump.
Are you wondering how this is even remotely heroic? You have to understand that I am a middle age, white federal employee who has a very predictable and very low stress life. I'm a Zen student who is quite content spending long hours facing a wall and breathing. For excitement I might try curry fries instead of the usual straight ones. I wear white tall cotton socks with my sandals if the weather is nice. There is nothing at all appealing about falling 25 feet. I hate the anxiety, I loath fear, I don't like being in cold water, I have acrophobia. I do not need the excitement. It was unfortunate, really quite unfortunate, that the choice to jump off the cliff was the right choice. There was never any doubt. I don't know why.
There were about 15 people ahead of me. As I made my way very slowly I felt waves of fear. I've had many emotions in my life, and I suppose some emotions are complex, and if explored more genuine emotions might underlie them, or coexist with them. But if I were to spend the rest of my life on a couch exploring this feeling of fear I doubt I would find much else. The fear was pure, distressingly distinct.
But I am a student of the Alexander Technique. As a trainee to become a teacher I am really committed to practicing the technique as much as possible. So in the midst of the fear I stopped. Stopped with all the concerns about the future, stopped with the end-gaining. Then I directed, rather course and firm directions: "Let my neck be free to let my head for forward and away, let my torso lengthen and widen..." By the time I got to that point all the fear was gone. Completely gone and all I felt was an intention and a sensation of uprightness, and calm. Not an altered state, but exactly how I feel while standing on line to get on the bus to go to work in the morning. Just calm, nothing special.
I wish it was that easy. In the next moment the guide starts talking again, commenting that the person who just jumped did not tuck her arms when she hit the water. He then told us that someone earlier in the day had dislocated her shoulder because she failed to follow these instructions. The next thing I knew the fear was back, a really horrible sensation. I would shuffle a few steps closer to the edge - engulfed in fear, before, again, remembering to inhibit and direct. And again, the fear promptly left me in peace. And again, the instructor, reminding us to really jump because if we just stepped off the cliff we would hit a shelf just under the water. Again fear, and again, the AT inhibition and direction, again peace. But once again the instructor. It turns out there is a shelf on the far side also, which, if one over-jumps, one will surely meet. He instructed the remaining few that when we got to the cliffs edge we should first look down, look to the center of the river, and jump to that point. He said the area of fixation is the area of your impact. The fear was back in force. I told myself when I get to the jump off point, I would stop, inhibit and direct, tuck my arms in, fix my gaze in the center of the river and carefully jump.
When it was my turn, I got to the edge and just fucking jumped. No looking, no tucking, no nothing, just get this fucking thing over with!
So these are my credentials - feel free to judge my street cred. But based on this, I offer my readers advice of how to be heroic in whatever life, whatever the present moment, offers to you.
And why should the Zen student care? Because Zen is largely about being in the world and healing it's ills. It is about bringing compassion and enlightenment to everyone everywhere. It is not about being selfish - not about being your average Joe. It is about being heroic. A socially engaged Buddhist is heroic. It may mean guiding civilians across a battlefield to safety, it might mean licking stamps on a letter, it might mean smiling to a stranger. I don't think anyone can say what is right for you.
Hopefully, nothing ever difficult will ever face any of you. Hopefully you will always be able to do the right thing without any discomfort, any pain, any fear. But perhaps there might be selfish concerns that present challenges.
I believe that I would be quite foolish to think that there is Joe here, and that this Joe has a body and an emotion that I label fear. Joe, fear and tight contracted body are one thing. There is no difference. The tight contracted body starts with the primary control. Inhibiting and directing of the primary control brings conscious control to any situation and helps us act based on our fundamental intention as opposed to self concerns.
Buddhist saints might only need their meditation experience to insure they are heroic in all social engagement But for the rest of us we should consider classes in the Alexander technique.
Practicing the Alexander Technique will make you heroic. Good for you!
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