What a time to be alive in, huh? There are some serious challenges, some amazing blessings, and some we might not be quite sure about… I would like to address one of those in this post.
One of the outstanding lessons this period has provided in one fell swoop has to do with the concept of plans and planning.
What are plans?
The dictionary definition says: 1. a detailed proposal for doing or achieving something; 2. an intention or decision about what one is going to do.
These are well connected of course. I want to address the latter: our intentions or decisions about what we are going to do. Going to do = in the future. The tense we are looking at is key.
You may have heard from different spiritual teachers that the only thing that is real is that which exists in the current, fleeting, infinite present moment. The past exists in our mind through memories, which are our subjective recollections of what has already passed and are effectively gone, even if we cling to them extremely tightly in the present moment. No moment will ever return, and no moment is ever remembered in the same exact way by any two or more people. Similarly, the future is made of possibilities, projections that we place on it using our individual and cultural core beliefs about life, what’s right and what’s wrong, even if we cling to those by firmly believing certain future outcomes in the current moment. It’s not the outcome that is real, rather it’s the thought, story, or belief about it that is burdening us in the present moment. The only thing that is “really” real is this current moment, as brief and uninteresting as it may be compared with the vastness and depth of the past and the ever-beguiling promise of the future.
So to what category do plans belong? Plans are a bit deceptive. I mean, who wouldn’t want to have some plans, right? And therein lies the rub. It’s not about having or not having plans. Having plans is perfectly fine. It’s the level of our attachment to them that matters, or how invested we are in their execution and outcome.
Take the COVID-19. How many plans got partially or entirely blown away due to a virus particle smaller than 125 nanometer? Zillions. If you think about it for a moment, I am sure you can name such decimated plans on the individual, familial, friends, city, county, state, country, and global levels. So, when these plans got scrapped, what determined your response? What made the difference between a short shoulder shrug with a “$#!+ happens” attitude toward some plans evaporating, and a blown-gasket attitude toward other plans being scrapped? The difference is in how attached we were to begin with to these plans and their outcome. What is attachment? Attachment has to do with desire, with wanting. And attachment results in suffering. As stated in the Buddha’s four noble truths: Truth No. 1 is that there is suffering. You were born? Welcome to suffering. That’s pretty much it. Why? Truth No.2: it is because of attachment. If you want to read more about how this works, I recommend this short summary here.
One factor often associated with attachment to plans is their cost. If you just finished pouring $50,000 into your bathroom renovation project with intent to sell your house when complete, well, you’re now $50,000 short. But what’s more important is that the plans you had to sell the house and have this money (and more!) back in your bank account have both gone out the window.
Another factor is the perceived “wrongness” of what happened to those plans. How “unfair” it was for this to happen. It “really shouldn’t” have happened. This has to do with an attitude of arguing with reality. The greater our attachment to the plan, the more unfair this virus seems to be and the greater the feeling of “this shouldn’t have happened.” As Byron Katie likes to say, “When I argue with reality I lose, but only 100% of the time.” And sure enough, we lose twice. Once, because our plan was flushed down the toilet. And twice, because we are now busy clenching our mental fist and waving it at the universe: “How could you do this to me? It’s not fair!” (in the matter of self blame, Tara Brach calls this second piece the second arrow. The dynamic is the same, first there’s the actual issue we are struggling with, and next comes the compounding cherry on top in the form of blame).
Let me ask you something. When was the last time you heard the phrase “it’s not fair” spoken in an argument and who was it that said this sentence? I am willing to bet that it was either a very long time ago when you were a child, or, that if it was more recent, it was spoken by a child. You may even remember an adult, non-compassionate response such as “Who said life was fair?”; maybe it was even you who responded that way. But when it comes to our plans — plans into which we have invested a whole lot of future portfolio— we really don’t appreciate it, and we revert to that child-like mode. In the example above, where you’d intended to sell the house, let’s say you already had plans for the money in order to travel this summer. You took time to plan the trip, book hotels, etc., so you now have secondary and tertiary damage from the dissolution of those funds: plans on top of plans on top of plans. Who is the adult you are complaining to? Well, there are several options here too. You may be complaining about the Universe, or God. What twisted universe would do something like this? Perhaps you are complaining about another human being, say your partner or spouse, trying to blame them for the scenario you yourself carefully planned: “Why did you convince me to go ahead with this renovation?” or “Why didn’t you stop me?”. Regardless, reality isn’t sitting well with you and finding someone responsible would seemingly help restore some order. At least I am not responsible, heaven forbid… right? (Again, not that self-blame is any better. What would happen if responsibility could come with no blame tag attached?)
Well, contrary to what you might think, I am not opposed to making plans. In fact, I am pretty good at that and think plans are just fine. What I suggest is taking these plans with a grain of salt whenever possible — making the plans but not getting too attached to them. On a seemingly entirely different subject, that of compassion, the Dalai Lama points out that we can have compassion without attachment: “Genuine compassion is based not on our own projections and expectations.” In other words, it is possible to have compassion without attachment as long as we don’t project or expect the other to behave and do what we expect or want them to do. It’s a general sense of compassion, not dependent on behavior, preference, or outcome. It’s exactly the same with plans for the future. Have them by all means, but refrain from building concrete projections and expectations on top of your plans so as to leave them in a more airy and transient state. More frequently than not, this allows us to avoid getting attached to them. The visual I get when I think of my plans is that of the dandelion. Have a look at a beautiful photo of one. Such a beautiful structure, such perfect magnificence. And? With a single, gentle blow of the wind, it’s all gone. Not here, as if it never was. But maybe, just like with the seeds of the dandelion, are your plans really gone, or will their brief moment of existence potentially serve as the seed to whatever needs to happen or arise next? Such are our plans. We can make them, and let’s not get married to them. Try as best as we can to remind ourselves that plans are a part of the future, and the future? Well, the future is nothing more than an entirely fictitious set of possibilities, most of which we can’t necessarily imagine until they are already in the present. If we don’t appreciate surprises or like to stay in control, the universe will provide us with countless opportunities to learn the lesson of non-attachment. And that is guaranteed.
I hope this helps, love,
Noam
Feel free to leave comments and thoughts below.