Sand Castles

October 12, 2020

For the last couple of days I’ve been irritated with my next door neighbor and landlord Mike because he put some ugly junk in my backyard. Not only was I annoyed by the introduction of these eyesores into the redwoods and ivy, but I also resented the intrusion of his stuff into my space. Yes, he owns the property, but I pay rent to enjoy my apartment and the area behind it. Feeling very territorial, I decided this morning to confront him about the situation.

But first, I did my daily meditation and chanting, and those practices calmed me. I realized that I was more likely to gain Mike’s cooperation by having a pleasant chat on another topic first rather than abruptly complaining about the invasion of his foreign objects. A few minutes later I saw him outside and approached him in the way I just described. To my relief he agreed that the old stove, boxes, and beat-up table are not a pretty sight, and he assured me that he had only placed them there temporarily while he decides what to do with them. He promised to move them soon. (And later, just as I was completing this essay, he did so).

While pleased with the denouement of this tempest in a teapot, I know that such mini conflicts in my life are more common than I might like to think. I’m aware that I’m opinionated, but what’s worse is how attached I am to my opinions as well as how attached I am to my perceived need to defend my beliefs.

In a recent phone conversation with my dear friend Kay we were discussing how population growth affects one’s quality of life. She said that since population growth is inevitable, we should increase housing density in suburbs for environmental and ethnic diversity reasons. Horrified, I said that population growth is inevitable only if we do nothing about it. I started to get really angry, then caught myself. In that moment I understood that even if I’m right about overpopulation, why was I starting to get so riled up about it? And is my opinion more important than my relationship with one of my best friends? I quickly backed off my argument before it turned into a rant, and to her credit Kay let me off the hook.

Still, I had to wonder: are my ego and its beliefs that fragile? Why is it so important for me to promote or protect my opinions? Then I recalled something that another close friend, Phil, once said: “Whenever there’s an argument about politics, it’s not really about politics. It’s about feeling powerless.” And what part of us feels powerless? The ego. Our essence or soul or higher self knows that our bodies, possessions, and circumstances are impermanent, so it’s best to let go of our attachment to “me and mine” and instead embrace the wisdom that everything is “us and ours.”

Yeah, I know – I’m not that generous or kind yet, and maybe you aren’t either. But at least we can start by asking ourselves: Who am I? Who, or what, is my Self? Am I my opinions, or is there more to me than meets the I?

Earlier this week I came across a Buddhist parable that speaks to the questions of identity, attachments, and transience. It’s called Sand Castles:

Some children were playing beside a river. They made castles of sand, and each child defended his castle and said, “This one is mine.” They kept their castles separate and would not allow any mistakes about which was whose.

When the castles were all finished, one child kicked over someone else’s castle and completely destroyed it. The owner of the castle flew into a rage, pulled the other child’s hair, struck him with his fist and bawled out, “He has spoiled my castle! Come along all of you and help me to punish him as he deserves.” The others all came to his help. They beat the child with a stick and then stamped on him as he lay on the ground.

Then they went on playing in their sand castles, each saying, “This is mine; no one else may have it. Keep away! Don’t touch my castle!” But evening came; it was getting dark and they all thought they ought to be going home. No one now cared what became of his castle. One child stamped on his, another pushed his over with both hands. Then they turned away and went back, each to his home. (Translated by Arthur Waley)

Kinda makes you think that in the grand scheme of things, our attachment to objects and beliefs is rather petty.

But I must confess that after I read the parable a third or fourth time, it occurred to me that the brat that kicked over someone else’s castle and got his ass kicked got what he deserved. Served the little bastard right.

So as you can see, I’m not as evolved as the Buddha. It’s still my backyard and my sand castle, god dammit. But at least I’m starting to ask the right questions.