Okay, I admit that most Buddhists worth their saffron robes would never start a sentence with, “The problem with Buddhism is…” but:

  1. I’m not a full-fledged, hairless, be-robed, monastery-lounge-lizardy, mediate-till-my-butt-is-numb Buddhist (you can probably tell that by the way I just described serious Buddhists)
  2. I’ve only been practicing Buddhism for about 20 years and this is a very complex system of principles and philosophies thousands of years old with strange Sanskrit words meant to befuddle even non-dizzy blondes
  3. What I do understand about Buddhism is wonderful and has changed my life mostly for the good except for this one thing. And it’s a big one.

Buddhists are really big on mindfulness. Not as in “mind the stop sign up ahead” so much (although that’s important, too), but as in pay excruciatingly close attention to every moment, thought, feeling, and behavior. Don’t judge any of it. Just notice all of it. Then let it pass. No time to dwell because there’s the next moment ready to be noticed before it slips away. Buddhists have to be on their toes whether sitting or not. So many moments, just enough time.

Do you see the problem with this? First, you’re supposed to put yourself under a microscope and then you’re not supposed to have any judgments about the crap-basket of crazy that you discover. And this is supposed to bring an end to suffering? Buddha, Old Buddy, did you think about what you said?  I mean it, Bubala! Focus-pocus and voila: no suffering?

You know I wouldn’t be writing this if I didn’t find something disturbing in my relentless self-observation. The fact that I’m disturbed means I’ve already failed at the non-judging part, but since I noticed this, I must be doing something Buddhist-ish. This is a very flexible and forgiving practice, as long as you pay attention to how you’re violating its principles.

I’m pretty sure there’s no such thing as a perfect Buddhist. Even the monks who isolate themselves in a mountain-top monastery after taking vows of silence, poverty, and veganism and only wearing itchy clothing are bound to flub it up. After sweeping endless stone steps with a broom made from pine branches or facing their 50th consecutive day of pinecone soup for lunch, they are bound to violate the important Buddhist principles of Right Thought. They aren’t superhumans, after all.

I’m merely human and live in the real world. Okay, I live in the world where I’m retired and get to do pretty much what I want, but it’s still no mountain top.

Here’s what I noticed about me: I am mentally ill. Perhaps that’s too harsh. I’m sick in the head.

I’m sure you think I’m just overreacting, being melodramatic, or looking for a laugh. All of those motives are part of my illness. I’ve been watching myself for a long time, so I’m pretty sure I’m a better judge of myself than you are (even though my Buddhist self shouldn’t be judging my regular self or you—that part always trips me up). That no-judging part is next to impossible. Especially when you look in the mirror (figurative and literal) and see what I get to see every day.

Do non-mentally ill people:

  • Obsess about their dog’s bowel movements? It would be worse if I didn’t have a dog, but I do, so don’t call the Psycho Squad yet. But whether Fozzie poops on his walk either makes or breaks my day. His, too.
  • Feel compelled to top off their Brita Water filter containers every time they use them? Mine has to be filled to the top. Always. If it isn’t full, it’s empty.
  • Only feel secure when their gas tank is over-filled with gas? When the gauge moves past the “full” mark, I have a compelling need to top it off, just like my water filter.
  • Make their bed the moment they get up and check to ensure the bed sheets and blankets are perfectly straight and symmetrical? What am I? A reincarnated chambermaid?
  • Have at least three back-ups of canned or dried goods in case of an emergency, like I get the urge to become domestic and actually use these items purchased in 1999 (in preparation for Y2K and the end of the world because computer programs only had two digits for the year–yeah, that had me worried.)

To my credit, I don’t compulsively wash my hands, check my door locks, or check repeatedly to see if I turned off my stove (in the rare event that I actually cooked something), but I know there’s lots of somethings wrong with me. Probably it’s that I don’t wash my hands enough, check to make sure my doors are locked and I am playing with fire when it comes to the burners on my stove.

But still …

My batteries are all charged up.

My gas tank is full.

The Britta water filter is full.

My bed is made and the sheets/covers/pillows are perfectly aligned.

No clutter is to be found in my house.

I’m a mess. Even after practicing Buddhism for nearly 20 years.