This humorous, well-written post takes a number of twists and turns on the subject of attachment. I hope you enjoy it – we did. – Doen
A Spring Walk, Attached
Daniel spoke recently about attachment. He said that when many people begin studying Zen, they misunderstand attachment and think it means we’re not supposed to care about things. Especially “things” like Jaguars, or huge diamond rings, or yachts. He explained attachment this way: it’s fine if you own a Jaguar that you enjoy, that you can afford, and that doesn’t cause you problems in other aspects of your life. If, however, a rock chip on the windshield of your Jaguar prevents you from being in the present, that’s attachment.
So does this mean that when I stroll down my lane with a glass of lemonade on a lovely spring evening to pick up my mail — and immediately become irritated that the local gym has sent another advertisement showing a woman gleefully contracting her shiny flat abs, and I start to ruminate about what a waste of paper this is and why do we always have to think about our abs — is this attachment? And if so, is it attachment to the trees wasted in the ad, or to the glistening abs? Or am I attached to my disdain?
Being on the topic of wasted trees made me dart a glance at the Zelkova tree that I so adored when I planted it three years ago. It certainly has grown rather spindly and disappointing in its habit. I wade through the brush sloshing my lemonade about and drop the mail on the ground in order to test some of the twigs to see if they’re dead or alive. Mostly alive, but not very vigorous. Then with a scowl: “Were those caterpillars that were eating the leaves last spring? I may have to consider spraying it this year though it goes against my principals. I’m clearly attached to organic gardening principals but that’s good, right? Why I planted this Zelkova here amongst the oregon grapeholly bushes is a mystery to me.” (I yank at a few of them.) “You can’t even see it from the lane anymore for all the bracken that has grown up around it. Why don’t the caterpillars eat the bracken? These woods are going to want a major trimming this year, but not until after the wood hyacinth are finished blooming because we’ll just crush all of them if we start dragging limbs around.” This makes me remember the tree butchers we hired one year who mistook my fernleaf beech for a bloodtwig dogwood and hacked several feet off the top. I can only just now look at that beech without getting pissed.
I suppose one could make a case that I’m attached to the trees I’ve planted, but don’t they give me so much pleasure?
I begin gathering up the mail with the abs model and, in a bit of disgust for my poor placement of the Zelkova and for garden help in general, I shiver and notice that although it is a fine spring evening, it’s still a bit chilly and not at all suitable for sitting outside this weekend when our friends come to dinner. I had really looked forward to sitting outside; it won’t be nearly as festive inside, and I suppose this is what Daniel calls attachment.
When I finally got back to the house to read the mail after pausing to inspect the bird feeders — why are they so messy? — I see that my lemonade, which was just perfect at the start of the lovely spring evening, has now become watery and flavorless. A little vodka and mint is what it needs, but the mint isn’t up yet.
Surely I’m not attached to mint.
Oh! I have the exact same backyard in Toronto!
Thanks for your honest illumination of the machinations of the mind, Kim. It’s a beautiful description of how we suffer internally with the very best of intentions. How strong our mind is! thank you for sharing this; my experience is often that going out of my own space increases my appreciation for everyone around me without the obligatory nature of doing or fixing something that i see. thank you, thank you!
This is really great Kim. Thank you for blogging. It’s absolutely amusing and perplexing how, on one hand, we can love our lives and things in them, and on the other hand, always be wishing things were different (BETTER). You’ve captured it perfectly.
Hi Kim (and everyone):
I stumbled upon this blog late, and out of sequence, but isn’t it funny how things suddenly jump out at you, and speak the truth, as if in a new way?
On a recent video clip, I caught Doen describing “attachment” as, more or less, our about what pleasures is. And he goes on to describe “pleasure” as what happens whenever we are really present, in other words, when we are without ideas about our experience.
And so right now, I am looking at your lovely photo of “entanglement”, and I also have in mind Tawni’s “wooden river” (which was posted along with a later blog entry) and I am given a really tangible metaphor of my practice this point. It is of “stepping out on a limb”, so to speak, and testing these ideas I have about things, in order to know which ones are, in fact, too brittle to take my weight.
What then? That’s a big one for me, because for some time now, I’ve been given to wonder whether I may have personally abandoned certain ideas and attachments to things too easily, or at least incompletely. In other words, by relying on how my mind explains or predicts what will happen I limit my confidence to really step out and test my conclusions FOR REAL (?)
I’m not sure if there are others feeling this junction as I do. And I’ve obviously riffed a bit off topic, but it’s as if I feel it’s time to step out, and venture FURTHER.
Fall or fly, it’s time to let what’s brittle break.
To me, this is what it means to face doubt. It’s about doing it now, delaying no further. And facing whatever it is in my heart and gut that would keep me from doing just THIS.
Typing and smiling.