It feels a little dramatic to say that this class has been life-changing, but in ways it has been. Although, at this very moment, my life may not look too different from how it did thirteen weeks ago (other than, of course, life as we knew it coming to a dramatic halt), this course has guided me in taking some steps toward living a life more grounded in joy, gratitude, and compassion.
Upon reflecting on this semester, a number of moments come to mind where the lessons and discussions from class illuminated my thoughts, like the sun peeking through the clouds.
I have always been petrified at the idea of death. I have never experienced the death of a loved one and fear what might happen when death does come. Christianity provides a simple solution to this dilemma: heaven. My mother is Christian and, having endured many hardships in her life, cites God as “taking care of it.” I guess I believe in God, though I don’t feel particularly committed to the idea. If anything, it just feels too presumptuous to deny a higher power outright. So, though I wouldn’t necessarily consider myself religious, I came into this class amenable to the ideas that religion had to offer that address death, illness, and suffering that is out of our control.
Now, I realize that a good life is not one where we are able to control one-hundred percent of things that happen because this is an impossible goal. Shit will happen: weight-gain, lost friendships, sickness, and death. What we can learn to control, however, is how we react to life’s inevitable traumas. I am grateful to have learned many Buddhist ideas and practices that can help us do this, ideas and practices that don’t require believing in anything other than our own free will.
Anyone who knows me knows that I am obsessed with taking personality tests. I love to psychoanalyze myself and assign labels to how I act or think. If I’m being indecisive, well, that’s just a weakness of my ENFJ personality! People never change, I thought. This idea was first challenged by a podcast I listened to that highlighted rehabilitative work done in a prison with people who had been convicted of violent crimes. Many of these people changed in remarkable ways, saying that they hardly recognized who they were when the committed the crime. I was amazed, but still skeptical.
This course, from the very first day, set upon shattering the idea of a permanent self into a million pieces. The idea of not-self and impermanence has really sunken in throughout the semester. It makes sense why I was initially opposed to these ideas—for the most part, I am happy with who I am a person and how my life has been as of yet. Why would I want to give in to the depressing idea that all of this could change? Perhaps this is a facet of being young and never having experienced any real trauma. Framing “suffering” as “unsatisfactoriness” helped me understand that I often do yearn for different circumstances. The idea of impermanence of situation helped me recognize that difficult times are transient but that good times are too, so they ought to be enjoyed even more fully (enter COVID-19). Impermanence also comes into play in the realm of emotions. I learned that this is a fundamental idea because the way we experience life is governed by our feelings. Life can be a whole lot more enjoyable if we detach ourselves to negative feelings and cease to identify with them.
Meditation is a means to understanding not-self and impermanence. Before this class, I was interested in the idea of meditation but too intimidated to try it. I felt that I didn’t know what to do, didn’t have the proper motivation, and, most of all, I felt that I would be cherry-picking a practice out of a culture that I didn’t understand.
After this class, I feel that I have a much better idea of the purpose of meditation and why it is such an important practice in Buddhism. After our first guided meditation in class, I felt the ideas that we had merely discussed actually begin to take form. For me in my very limited experience, mediation provides space—space from noisy thoughts, potent feelings, and from the conventional world. It’s a ritual that gives form to the cliché of “living in the present moment,” where you actually permit yourself to take the time and experience the present.
In times of hardship, it’s natural to reminisce about simpler times or pine for a better future. This is how I felt a couple weeks ago; I was wishing away my days of being quarantined so that things could return to normal. Then I realized that these wishes were irreconcilable with the mindset that I had been trying to cultivate this entire semester. I took a couple moments to sit in my chair and meditate. I resolved to view the current situation with appreciation for the extra time with my family and cultivate new habits rather than with disdain.
There was another night during quarantine when I was struck by an overwhelming feeling of sadness. Waves of gloom kept crashing over me, to the point where I felt like I’d never be able to surface. I knew that wasn’t true, but I couldn’t bring my rational self to win—I was feeding the wolf of sorrow. After crying for a long, long time, I tried meditating. I tried to concentrate on my breathing, but choked up every couple of breaths. Then, at one point, I shifted my focus to the sensation of crying when instructed to focus on how the breath feels in the face. I observed the congestion in my nose and the tears streaming down my face. The sadness morphed into something beautiful and cathartic. Slowly, my tears dried up. I felt like I had truly recognized a feeling for the first time. And I realized that no one could make my sadness go away but myself.
Finally, I learned about the role of compassion in living a meaningful life and how to cultivate it. Compassion must start with the self, and I am often very self-critical. Recognizing that self-criticism stems from a self-centered worldview was central and recognizing that I shouldn’t attach myself to my shortcomings helped me take a step toward building up my confidence. And again, no one could make me feel confident but myself.
Only once we are able to stop being so tied up in our own experiences can we be more compassionate toward others. Non-attachment to our own experiences can help us more easily find empathy for the experiences of others. I’ve always felt that I could be a better friend. Sometimes when I am with my friends I find myself wondering if I’m giving the right advice or if I’m saying the right things. But I’ve realized that giving advice is, in some ways, a self-centered act, and more often than not our friends may benefit more by just having someone listen to them and be present with them. Compassion for others is cultivated when we extricate ourselves from our conventional self. Only then can we really imagine and empathize with the feelings of others in the world.
I definitely wouldn’t say that I am a Buddhist, but I do believe in the ideas of Buddhism. The lessons from Buddhism that we have learned this semester have altered my mindset in ways that have already helped me attain greater joy for my life, and I know that they will continue to do so. I will never forget this semester and I feel so lucky to have been able to take this course during my last semester at Yale.