I stood on the banks of the swollen Assiniboine River recently, watching chunks of ice rush by in the swift current and thinking about launching my kayak. When the river is at normal levels, paddling upstream is fairly easy. But when the river is in flood, it would be hard to do that without being swept away. (In fact, a few paddlers often need rescuing at this time of year.)
It’s similarly difficult for a person to go about their normal activities when the world is overwhelmed by a big event like the coronavirus pandemic. Swept along in the current are job losses, school shutdowns, self-isolation, social restrictions, as well as the illness itself. Just like a flood, these big events are beyond our personal control.
We can no more control current events than we can change the direction of the river. Yet our lack of control does not mean we are helpless. When a flood threatens our property, we install sump pumps and build sandbag dikes. We shore things up.
When an overwhelming global event threatens our emotional well-being, we can shore things up by cultivating a backbone of resilience. This backbone is strengthened through exercising ethical conduct, compassionate awareness, and character traits such as equanimity.
There is a teaching that compares equanimity to a sturdy upright post firmly grounded in the bed of a flowing river. The water meets the post and moves around it without knocking it over.
Similarly, we can envision ourselves as upright, aware, firmly grounded in the present, and receptive to whatever comes our way. Internal and external experiences can be met with open receptivity and allowed to pass by. In this way we shore ourselves up against the floods.
Much of the Buddha’s life was lived on a flood plain in northern India. He and his disciples often had to cross dangerously high rivers, so floodwater is an image that shows up often in his teachings.
One of those teachings is called the Four Floods of sensuality, becoming, views, and ignorance. We experience them as states of mind which carry us away, as if we are unconscious or under a spell. The impact of the floods can be mitigated by following the eightfold path and developing the paramitas — qualities of mind and heart that build resilience.
The Flood of Sensuality
The sensuality flood is when we seek out and cling to pleasant sights, sounds, tastes, fragrances, touches, and thoughts. Perhaps right now, we feel the loss of the physical closeness, of being unable to hold close children, elders, or friends.
We can see how insisting on physical closeness would be harmful right now. We can also see how it helps to shore ourselves up with paramitas such as patience, determination, renunciation (living simply).
Perhaps social isolation is making us feel sadness, grief, fear, or loneliness. It can be tempting to binge on Netflix (or a similar escape) as a way to ignore or deny our darker emotions. But if we habitually avoid experiencing the full spectrum of life, with its “ten thousand joys and ten thousand sorrows,” we actually end up feeling worse. Rather than being carried off by the current of pleasant feeling, can we stay present with what’s actually here?
Don't surrender your loneliness
So quickly
Let it cut more deep. Let it ferment and season you
As few human
Or even divine ingredients can
Something missing in my heart tonight
Has made my eyes so soft,
My voice
So tender,
My need of God
Absolutely
Clear.
—Hafiz, 14th century Sufi poet
The Flood of Becoming
The flood of becoming is about how we attach and identify with our experience. So, when loneliness or some other emotion arises, we “become” lonely. Or “I am lonely.” The “I am” can feel so solid, so permanent, so real.
Really, there is no “I am.” There are only visiting mental states that eventually leave. But they are not the essence of who we are.
Becoming also relates to how we identify with our past or future selves. The past can feel sticky with nostalgia or regret: “I wish I’d made different choices. I’m stuck now.”
Thoughts about ourselves in the future can put us in a trance of worry or hopeful expectation. Right now the future feels more uncertain than usual, so we become worried, fearful.
We can release our attachment, our “becoming” our regrets and our worries, by giving our full and compassionate attention to the present, to the here and the now. We still plan, we still remember, but we do so grounded in compassionate presence. There is nothing to attach to when we stay in presence. The weight of our anxiety, our regret, and our need falls away. The spell of the flood of becoming is broken in presence.
The Flood of Views
The flood of views sums people into groups, creating divisions between self and others. We see that on social media all the time.
It can be illuminating to explore our own views and how they work to support our ego, our identity. Can you sense any self-righteousness?
I can feel how my attachment to views and opinions is connected to my desire to be right. Even if it’s just about small things, like whether or not I need to wear a face mask at the grocery store.
Of course, we need views. We’re not trying to get rid of them, necessarily. It’s the adherence to any view, not the view itself, that is the problem.
We can hold our views without attachment. We can hold views with the understanding that nothing is really certain. We can hold views with “don’t know mind.”
The Flood of Ignorance
Ignorance is when we notice we have problems but we come to the wrong conclusions about their causes. It’s often about blame and denial.
The rood word of ignorance is ignore. We can explore our ignorance by checking in with ourselves and asking: Am I jumping to conclusions? Is there something here that I’m refusing to acknowledge? Is there something here that I simply can’t know or see right now?
There’s a great Taoist story about a man rowing a boat on a fog-shrouded lake. Suddenly another boat comes along and rams into his vessel. He gets angry and starts yelling and cursing at the person in the other boat. But there is no response. The man looks more closely and sees that the other boat is empty. There is no one to blame.
If you can empty your own boat
Crossing the river of the world
No one will oppose you,
No one will seek to harm you
There is no one to blame.
—Chuang Tzu, ancient Chinese philospher
—Nelle Oosterom