Present-ly
The front cover of the September 6th issue of The New Yorker is a cartoon by Tom Gauld entitled Food for Thought: a scene of a park with people, dogs and children doing what folks do in a park, complete with ice cream and hot dog vendors and even a glimpse through open windows into an apartment where a woman works in front of a computer while her cat stares wistfully out. Each person is doing something: walking a dog, playing with a child, picnicking, or walking to a destination. These people, along with birds, dogs, and ants are all visualizing food that they do not have: the hot dog vendor is thinking about vegetables, the ice cream vendor about a frosty mug of beer, the mother with her child is thinking about a glass of wine while she eats an apple and her baby thinks of her breast; the cat in the apartment desires the bird on the lawn; the ants march toward a fallen scoop of ice cream. In other words, everyone is desiring something they do not have at that time.
I’ve spent quite a few minutes staring at this scene and appreciating the wit that the New Yorker does so well. The issue has a libation theme, so the cover makes perfect sense. But being an aspiring Buddhist practioner, what strikes me the most was that not one sentient being is absorbed in their current activity to the fullest as they think about something else. The hot dog vendor is bugling his wares while thinking about vegetables, a direct inner conflict. Is he a vegetarian forced to sell hotdogs for a living or has his status as a hot dog vendor turned him toward vegetarianism? Are we consistently thinking about what we don’t have and are these desires valid or are we always wishing for something other? What would we see if the depictions dealt with other aspects of lives, other than food? Say sex, or careers, or travel; perhaps another city to live in besides New York?
In the ten years I’ve been studying Buddhist philosophy, the one true thing that I have gleaned is awareness. I can’t say I’m more peaceful, or kinder, or wiser. But I do know that I can learn to be fully aware of the results that my actions create, which may eventually serve to make me kinder or wiser and let me live peacefully. This will require living fully in the present while being aware of what my actions create, so that the awareness is before the action instead of after. But are we able to? Or is human kind destined to always be propelled forward, our minds grasping for desires that are out of our reach at any particular moment? Or reaching back, into our past? (I’ve already mused about the regrets of the past in my last blog.)
Mankind has evolved at a furious pace and I don’t sense a slow-down any time soon. Evolution seems to have its own agenda and we are at its mercy. Our brains are amazing in their capability: if we can imagine something we can probably figure out how to accomplish or create it. Even our physical limitations can be bypassed with virtual reality. And if we live in the right economic circumstances, we can do most anything, even travel into outer space. Possibilities are endless.
But our greatest strength may also be contrary to true inner happiness. We’ve all heard the sayings: accept yourself, accept others; don’t compare, be happy with what you have. I say, if we cannot change our desires, perhaps we can learn to recognize them for what they are: just that—a desire which may or may not be fulfilled. My recommendation is something we can all try: when your current situation creates wishful thinking, stop in awareness and question the reason. Are we truly less fulfilled with our current situation—is it detrimental in some way that makes our wishful desire valid—or is it simply different?
At this point you may be wondering why a writing blog is going all philosophical. As with everything that grabs our attention, this simple cover on a New Yorker magazine took me off on tangents related to my overwhelming desire to get my book published traditionally. Hours upon hours of research and querying have been fueled by what I don’t have and want. And when I’m not on the computer, I’m thinking about what I should be doing to accomplish what I want so much. I have been absent from the present, which includes family, friends, and other fulfilling projects; I go through the motions. Change out the food images with life and career images, and the impact is overwhelming. Perhaps I am thinking too much; I should grab a drink, sit out by the fire pit with my husband and see what the evening brings.
