On A Philosophical Note

One thing I used to do, for several years, was read part of one of a set of philosophical books at bedtime, the way some people read from their religious books, just a little bit of reminding me how to live well before I went to sleep. The three books are It's Easier Than You Think: The Buddhist Way to Happiness by Sylvia Boorstein, The Miracle of Mindfulness by Thich Nhat Hanh, and Meditations by Marcus Aurelius. Zen Buddhism and Stoic Philosophy readings on a regular basis somehow helped me feel calmer and more centered. 

Then, for some unknown reason, I stopped reading them. Either I let the books be packed and so didn't have them at hand after I moved to Oregon, or I just got out of the habit, but somehow I stopped. And I think that stopping that bedtime habit left a little hole in my calmness and my center.

When I remember to think about being mindful, or when I remember something I read and try to apply it to whatever I'm going through, I feel a little better. But because I don't read these books regularly anymore, I don't remember to apply them to my life very often.

For example, the Buddha taught that struggling causes suffering. If you struggle against something that you cannot change, you will feel added pain — the pain of suffering. If you struggle against something you can change but you don't try to change it or accept it, you will suffer. I spent the better part of two years struggling against the fact that my mother died and that she died at a time when she was finally free to do things that she wanted to do. Telling myself it wasn't fair is struggling. Not accepting the fact that she was dead is struggling. It is partly grief, too, but I think I made it worse by clinging to these struggles and clinging to my grief. When I began to read the Boorstein book again this summer, I was reminded not to cling. I was reminded not to struggle against what I cannot change. Those struggles have nearly disappeared now, partly from time and cognitive therapy and partly from reading one of my books and being reminded.

I had to buy two of the books again when I was on my wandering that landed me in Houston, and I bought the Hanh book again after I got here. For some reason, when I packed things for storage in Oregon, I forgot to leave those books out. But then, I figured I'd easily find another job and move my things from Oregon that spring. The spring of 2009. Not happening yet.  So glad I can keep finding them in print!

The book on mindfulness is a calming book to read and it makes me think. At one point in the book, the author tells a friend who wants to do the dishes that he can, but only if he does them "right". The right way to wash the dishes is to wash them just to wash them, not to wash them so you can then join your friends talking in the other room, or so you can go on to some other activity. The right way, the author told his friend, is to wash them mindfully, with all your attention on washing the dishes, not on what you are going to do next. 

I have washed dishes that way and it was a rather enjoyable thing; paying attention to what I was doing, I didn't chip any dishes or almost drop them. They got clean and I felt good after doing them, like I had truly accomplished something. And I had: I had remained mindful for the entire time I'd been washing the dishes. Plus, I had clean dishes!

The book by Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, is basically a compilation from the journals he wrote when he was an army commander and when he was the Roman Emperor. He was a Stoic philosopher as well, so his journals entries are him working through his philosophy and how to apply it to his life and how to live his life according to his philosophy. It's very much like the Zen Buddhist philosophy in many ways. He talks about centering yourself around your beliefs and not clinging to people or things because everything changes, people die or leave. But he doesn't say don't love, don't connect. Just don't place your being on the fate of another person or in their hands. Very much like the Buddhist admonition against clinging. He also acknowledged how difficult that could be, reminiscing how he would look at his sleeping son and have to remind himself that all things change and to not hold onto his son so tightly he wouldn't be able to live if anything happened to his son.

Both of these philosophies say basically what my therapist was articulating to me last week: to still have a relational life, embrace others but don't lean on them such that I will fall over if they are gone. She was reminding me that I don't have to pull away from those I love to keep from falling apart if they go away or change; I just have to keep my center within myself and stand on my own feet rather than depending on someone else to keep me upright.

So I've read through the Boorstein book again and it resides beside my bed. I have pulled out the other two books and placed them with that book. Normally before bed I play a few games of Sudoku on my mom's Nook. I think that I'm going to change that up and alternate Sudoku with reading passages from the three books as my bedtime routine. As I'm writing this, I find myself feeling a happy anticipation about bedtime tonight. Tonight I think I'll read from Aurelius. There are so many passages in the book that I haven't read them all yet. There is still so much to explore.

Do you read philosophy? Do you have a particular philosophy that you like? How do you guide yourself in living a good and happy life?