Involuntary Buddhist

I was, for a time, subject to the limitations of time and space.

For a time, I had little to do with financial incentives and tax burdens. I was subject to natural constraints. Resources like water and electricity needed to be hand-delivered. Waste (even human waste) needed to be removed in containers. I developed economy of resource use, economy of space, and even economy of motion. I found that my every act had consequences, and I therefore needed to make short and long-term plans regarding all my actions. I needed to be mindful. I discovered that I was becoming an involuntary Buddhist.

During the summer of 2024, I lived in a camper.

In a camper, the material rewards of capitalism have limited use. There is not enough space to hoard; what may be possessed is only what is needed. This was the first illumination of the summer: I learned what I really needed. It isn’t much.

The second illumination arrived after I came to terms with my involuntary anti-materialism. What does one think about, if it isn’t about stuff?

When one cooks in a camper, there is counter space for only one project at a time. There is a kind of dance to be performed, of removing, using, and storing items. This entails a certain a amount of planning and real-time performance concentration. What is happening now? What is going to happen in thirty seconds? What am I doing now to be ready for the future coming in thirty seconds? What is going to happen in two minutes? What about my thirty second plan is going to prepare me for the two-minute distant future? This was so demanding, I found that I could not think about unrelated woes. I was living in the moment, embedded in a 30 second moment, which was embedded in a two minute moment.

After two weeks of this, I noticed a shift. It took that much practice to reorganise my way of thinking, but that is when things started to get groovy. I found that I liked being in this dance of awareness; nothing was a chore. The fact that I could control the dance, and yet, was controlled by its exigencies, I found to be some paradox that no Buddhist would find paradoxical.

I started to experience set-backs differently. Instead of experiencing frustration or disappointment, I would assess whether I had the skills and tools needed to deal with a given problem, and if not, what steps needed to be taken to provide them. Once that was planned, I could go back to planning and executing my physical motions of each subplan. I could experience set-backs as opportunities to do my schtick.

I found myself experiencing life unlike I had before. I was grooving. With time, my general mood rose. I started to look for new opportunities.

Running errands became such an opportunity. When driving a car, I commented to myself on everything that I saw. “That is a cute red cottage with white trim.” “That is a grove of trees that could not be more than 200 meters deep, based on my memory of viewing a map.” “By taking a left here, I’ll reach my destination a minute later, but I shall have stopped at three fewer intersections, which shall be more fuel-efficient.” When driving, I thought only about driving.

When talking to people, I found my awareness expanded, not in time, but in terms of meaning. Why is this person telling me this? What does he hope to achieve? Should I respond with my true opinion, or should I say something to improve our relationship? Why am I in this relationship? What do I hope to achieve? I realised that I normally do and say many things out of habit or custom, without having any real intention.

Instead of experiencing these interactions in the first person, I had the odd sense of observing, and from time to time, of issuing corrections to the thoughts that were forming.

When I found myself brooding about some vague or lingering problem, I would think about it only until I had made a decision, after which I would stop thinking about it. When I cleared all current problems for the day, I would treat myself by thinking about something pleasurable. That would make me feel happy. When I noticed that I’d made myself feel happy, that was itself a source of pleasure. Then I would think about my ability to do exactly that. This led to a virtuous circle that would progress to bliss, and in come instances, euphoria. This became into something of a hobby. The prerequisite, of course, was to have cleared my queue of enough pressing tasks to not have intrusive thoughts about them.

Some readers might say that I had manged to achieve a high level of self-delusion, and this is, in fact, no high achievement. However, some people engage in thinking that leads to depression and chronic anxiety. These are not dismissed as self-delusional. These are considered mental illnesses for which insurance programs pay dearly. These are achievements that civilisation recognises as real. Darker does not mean more real. Illness is not more real than ability.

The problem, if there is one, is that virtuous cycles of thought provide no benefit to capitalist civilisation. I think, for this reason, they are not much discussed and not much pursued. They are viewed with suspicion.

I noticed (not for the first time) that capitalism cultivates the very opposite of virtuous cycles of thought. I hinted at the outset that material wealth was antithetical to mental wealth. There are worse examples. The most glaring is violent film. These drag one’s awareness in the opposite direction. In the state of mind I had that summer, I would have been traumatised by any number of Hollywood blockbusters.

Once I found myself staring at the wall in front of my bed for what must have been a long time; I had lost any sense of time. I was in a state of bliss, but one that required much management. It was no run-away process, but it was happening. It occurred to me, in a moment of non-presence, that I have in the past watched videos specifically because I had not the ability to do what I was presently practicing. I have even paid money to avoid it. I considered it boring. Inexplicable!

Now I am back in my big house where I am rarely limited by space or resources. I find that I am falling back on old habits. I find myself wondering whether I imagined the mental wealth of material poverty.