Renunciation is not getting rid of the things of this world, but accepting that they pass away - Aitken Roshi
An insightful and penetrating analogy occurred to me this morning as I sat down on the toilet. Most toilet seats are made of either of a hard plastic or a plastic/wood mix and these materials can get quite cold - especially in the winter months or if the AC is on full blast, right? Imagine you wake up one morning, clothed in comfortable cotton or flannel pajamas, and head over to the bathroom to sit on the toilet as you normally might. Keeping in mind that having just exited from the toasty confine created by your bedsheets and comforter, your body still retains a relatively warm internal temperature (aka homeostatic regulation). You pull your pants down in preparation for landing and then something astounding happens. Brace yourself.
In that very instance -- in those infinitesimal fractions of a second in which your butt (which was previously tucked away safely and thoughtlessly behind 1 or 2 layers of clothing) makes initial contact with the cold, hard, plastic material that comprises your toilet seat -- in this very moment, a moment seemingly frozen in vast stretches of space and time, the soft, warm, vulnerable flesh of your rear end is pierced by a hostile, sinister, and merciless icy surface -- in this very moment, a raw, primitive, and overwhelming feeling envelopes your soul and entire being: crawling up from the depths of oblivion on 9 hairy, black, and gnarly legs, the feeling reveals itself to you... fear - fear that death has finally come.
Millimeter by millimeter, the final stretches of your rump's skin mesh with the arctic torture chamber below and your entire biological system is flooded with a silent panic. With little awareness of what's transpiring, you make a desperate gasp for a single angst-stricken breath of air, holding it in for as long as humanly possible, as if it were the last you will ever take on this earth. In an instant, your shoulders and upper back muscles jerk upward violently and involuntarily; your neck muscles compress and lock in position; your chest tightens; the corners of your eyes cringe and crinkle; your cheeks recede into your face; the little hairs on your limbs stand erect; and, in one swift defensive maneuver, your entire body is on red alert in anticipation of its imminent destruction. In your mind, the only perception is pain. In your heart, the only feeling is fear. The only reality is stress and anxiety. But in many cases and on many mornings, it just simply, flat-out, feels like death.
But then, in what seems as the most unlikeliest of possible outcomes, Death does not find you. The pain and stress recede. The vision of doom loosens its grip and disintegrates. The little hairs on your arms and legs descend into their usual haphazardly curly or straight positions. Your cheeks, eyes, chest, neck, back, and shoulders all submerge into the ocean of neutrality once more. And then... you finally take a breath. Breathe.
Now, peaceful enlightenment. Your butt has adapted to the cold seat. Wow. What a rush.
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As fanciful and insignificant as this detailed account of sitting on a cold toilet seat may sound, I think there is something worth pondering here. Our feelings and thoughts often mislead us. They are not accurate representations of what's truly happening in the world. Just like
we're horrible predictors of our future emotional states, current emotional states are horrible predictors of our future well-being. The main problem is that we take these insignificant emotional fluctuations too seriously.
Certain - but not all - values advocated by society make matters worse. Instead of supporting us in a psychological journey to understand, to accept, and to appreciate that our butt can adapt to the toilet seat, marketers and advertisers tempt us into purchasing
one of these. This eliminates a chance of cultivating far-reaching, healthy, and highly protective mental defense mechanisms (such as the virtue of
acceptance in this case) and opt for immediate avoidance of insignificant emotional signals instead. This is the source of most of our problems... personal, interpersonal, and otherwise. It's not your fault. It's not my fault. It's not their fault. It's no one's fault. Really. We're simply human. Big whoop.
It's often necessary to
take a calm and philosophical step back from the madness. Take a look at what's really going on. What is real? Ask yourself why you are stressed over this or why are you worrying over that. Dig in a little, but do it calmly. It's a tough process.
Most great thinkers converge on the same finding: there is very little, if anything, to fear in this life. Realizing this is the hard part. But it's the most valuable part. It requires practice. And this practice revolves around a single exercise: Make a conscious effort to observe our fears and insecurities with compassion instead of hiding from them or sweeping them under a rug (or purchasing a heated toilet seat). Every instance in which we feel discomfort (or fear, or any other negative emotion) is a wonderful opportunity to practice. The Buddha encouraged others to practice this exercise - and he called this exercise
meditation.
So in conclusion, the next time you're about to sit on a cold toilet seat,
smile, will you? :)
