Certainly it is through our actions that we are known. But do we act the way we are or the way someone expects us to act?
Act like a woman. Act like a man. Act like an adult. Act like a professional. Pretend to be something others expect you to be, even if you’re not.
Usually these are the rules of society. Sometimes they are someone else’s idiosyncratic expectations.
As living beings, we have been given so many miracles, yet we seem to continue to expect more and more of ourselves, of everyone else, and of the planet.
Writing this manuscript is one way for me to come to terms with the knowledge and principles of the Buddhist discipline. This is a philosophy that brings me peace and joy, and I hope to share it with others. I believe that we can live better if we expect less in every aspect of our lives.
It doesn’t matter what you’ve been given, whether it’s physical deformity or enormous wealth or poverty, beauty or ugliness, mental stability or mental instability, life in the middle of a madhouse or life in the middle of a peaceful silent desert. Whatever you’re given can wake you up or put you to sleep. That’s the challenge of now: what are you going to do with what you have already—your body, your speech, your mind?
Pema Chodron
Footnote
* For information regarding the source of all quotations in Expect Nothing, please see “References,” page 117.
PART I
TEACHERS
Each of us encounters many teachers in our lifetime. We don’t always know that they are our teachers at the time, this awareness only coming later. Even a rock can be a teacher, after all. As I move more deeply into Buddhism, I see that I have been blessed with good teachers all around me, though it has often taken me too long to glean their lessons. We are surrounded by teachers, if only we know enough to see them. One way to acknowledge and truly own the lessons life has for us is to identify and acknowledge the teachers of those lessons. Here are some of mine.
ONE
JUST LIVING
Our lives are lived in intense and anxious struggle, in a swirl of speed and aggression, in competing, grasping, possessing, and achieving, forever burdening ourselves with extraneous activities and preoccupations.
Sogyal Rinpoche
During my past life, one of expecting everything, I made some adjustments in the way I lived. Many things were reduced to the level of automatic responses.
I expected the alarm clock to go off when I set it, and as a result of storms and electrical outages, I purchased a windup alarm clock.
I expected there to be coffee and toast available for breakfast. That’s why I made a grocery list and bought stuff before it ran out.
I expected to have cleaned, ironed clothes ready to put on before I left the house. That’s why I washed and ironed them ahead of time.
I expected the car to start and have gas in it. So I filled it ahead of time and took it to the mechanic before it fell apart.
I had all these expectations. They weren’t met, for a variety of reasons—from relying on electric alarm clocks to being too tired to shop or being just plain forgetful.
But now, I really don’t expect any of these things. And I get an interesting surprise when other things happen—though I still have a windup clock.
Most of us have been through all these failures of expectations and these changes, and now, usually, most things go according to our expectations, at least those things that are within our own control and grasp. Control and grasp are so full of expectation, commitment, and energy, they seem as if they belong to the very core of life.
When other people get involved, like spouses, children, parents, friends, and strangers, even more disastrous events can take place.
The morning paper didn’t get delivered on time. Somebody drank all the milk. Somebody else didn’t get up in time to get to school without a ride.
The slow driver in the fast lane. So many cars on the road at this hour. The secretary is late again, and my tests aren’t ready. The lecturer assigned for today’s session thought it was scheduled for tomorrow. Two of the three committee members didn’t do their homework, so we had to postpone the meeting.
Other people just don’t seem to understand how hard I work, and that is why they fail to do what I need at the right time. Other people just don’t understand my simple concepts. Other people are involved in too many other things, instead of my things.
Or worse—other people are mean and vindictive. They don’t respect me. They come from a different planet. It’s all their fault I don’t get my work done and don’t get promoted.
There are only two alternatives here that I see:
1. If I want it all done right, I must do it all myself, which creates too much work and too many expectations in my already burdened life.
2. Expect nothing, which also happens to free and liberate me and bring me peace and joy. Of course, expect nothing takes much less energy. And it also frees other people and me from myself.
To release means to release mind from its prison of grasping, since you recognize that all pain and fear and distress arise from the craving of the grasping mind.
Sogyal Rinpoche
TWO
ONE OF MY GREATEST TEACHERS
Let none find fault in others. Let none see omissions and commissions in others. But let one see one’s own acts, done and undone.
Dhammapada, verse 50
John came to live with me after his father, my brother, died. John didn’t get along well with anyone but his father. John had been diagnosed as schizophrenic, though not violent nor terribly disabled, just socially different. He had finished high school, and he’d lived at home all his life. He was now in his forties. I have a little studio house on my property, so it seemed logical that he should move in with me. And that’s where he lives.
John has a fantastic memory, especially for numbers and dates. He’s a Star Trek fanatic and forever tries to tell anyone who will listen about some of his favorite stories—from years back or last night’s show. And he can recall these stories in great detail, which I assume is accurate. He has Star Trek cards, buttons, books, and he even goes to Star Trek conventions. Fortunately, I like Star Trek, but not all the time.
He also has some fundamental knowledge of cars, house repair, and carpentry, although it’s often not appropriate to the situation at hand. After several minor disasters, involving broken hoses in the engine of my car, fingers nearly cut off, goats eating the flowering plants instead of their own, tools and equipment left out to rust, and stuffing up the attic air vents in the belief that he could make the house warmer, we now talk about each project beforehand. We see what will work and what won’t. Even so, I often need to supervise closely. John would never make a good cat burglar because he never puts things back where he finds them. I can trace his every move.
John is generous and polite. He bathes and takes care of his clothes. And he means well, which is probably why we get along. Sometimes he gets a fixed idea of what should be done, and no matter how I try to convince him of the