For most of our relationship, my wife and I were identified as travelers. We backpacked through Southeast Asia, surfed in Portugal, camped in Maine, rode motorcycles along the California coast, and honeymooned in New Zealand. Those trips were fun. They were thrilling, adventurous, novel and fun.
Then we had a child.
Due to the pandemic, we canceled our daughter's 1st birthday party. Little did we know, we were practically stranded. We had another child. My travels became almost a distant memory, and I would occasionally flip through old diaries to reminisce about the vivid characters and unexpected moments I met along the way. Then we hear a scream, one of us has to change a diaper, and our reverie is interrupted by one of the lively characters we've created.
Last fall, on a trip to visit friends in Austin, Texas, we decided it was time to instill the joy of travel in our under-5 children. We got through the complications of flying with kids and found ourselves having fun again. Except that the sunny skies we thought we'd be escaping from frigid Boston turned out to be drizzle and moderate temperatures. And thanks to the tyranny of napping, most of our excursions were shortened and within stroller range.Moreover, her daughter worked hard on the second night. exorcist A reenactment in our kind host's house, with projectiles, vomit, and screaming, waking everyone up in the process. As I was mindlessly cleaning everything with a spray bottle and paper towels, I couldn't help but think: fun? ”
In many ways, I was reminded of the many times I attended Zen retreats. During that time, I would do chores, hold uncomfortable poses, and at some point my back would hurt, and when my fatigue was at its peak, I would often wonder, “Is this this?” fun? ”And yet, somehow, I have sat in over 30 of her retreats over the past 20 years and keep coming back. When I was asked about my post-retreat experience, I once came up with an abbreviation: “It was tough, but it was good.” This simple phrase seems to sum up the rigor and contentment, without having to explain that it's not necessarily relaxing.
In Austin, the concept of “fun,” or lack thereof, was a frequent topic of conversation with friends who also have two children under the age of five. I explained my recent fascination with the concept of “fun.”Type 2 funIt's a concept often used in the masochistic outdoor adventure community: running five miles on a muddy trail in the freezing rain isn't very fun in the moment, but in hindsight you'll be glad you did it. In other words, it depends on the amount of pain. It is directly proportional to the level of satisfaction after the experience. Perhaps some of us are just big eaters. “fun. ” Should parenting be fun? Is parenting a practice of mindfulness?
Having endured (i.e. enjoyed) thousands of hours in both of these endeavors, I've realized that they can be useful analogs for each other. After all, even in the Buddhist canon, What to expect when you're expecting, fun is guaranteed. But whether you're a new meditator or a new parent, it's important to know that bliss is bordering on boring, that reality doesn't match expectations, and that your body and mind can easily slip into very random patterns of behavior. When you discover this, you may be a little disappointed. Whether it manifests as a projectile vomit onto the wall of a friend's house or a distracting spirit projection onto the walls of a convent, it doesn't always match the setting.
Bliss is next to boredom
Part of the problem may be that Fun has a great PR department. Everywhere you look, people seem to be having fun with it, and their social media abuse reveals all the ways you're not. But if you look closely, cracks begin to appear in this idea of ​​projected fun. Looking back at my previous trips, I see that it was a time in my life when the highs were high and the lows were low. Sure, I enjoyed going for extremes, but I was also looking for a way to escape a general sense of ennui and fill a perceived sense of lack. The fun bells and whistles are thrilling, but they also keep us chasing the next height, raising the threshold for enjoyment in what can become an increasingly frustrating cycle (samsara, samsara).
I contacted Buddhist scholar Andrew Olentski, and he said, Lesley University Mindfulness Research Program, when asked about the relationship between fun and Buddhism, explained that in the practice, “the point is to fully experience every emotional tone with equanimity.” It is not about leaning toward fun, joy, and pleasure, or away from boredom, sadness, and pain. “We can experience joy one moment and displeasure the next, but we probably don't prioritize one over the other,” Orenzki says.
In fact, by seeing this cacophony brought on by expectations of fun, we can begin to let go of our preconceptions and create space for a subtle range of emotional tones. Part of the power of meditation practice is understanding how we set ourselves up to suffer precisely because of distorted expectations. Expecting bliss, we are met with sore knees and annoying construction noise across the street. But the richness of the knee pain and the screeching also means that we are willing to notice them with equanimity, without trying to avoid what is characterized as mundane in order to get to what is “important.” If so, it can be an engrossing element of our experience. ”
In parenting and practice, we can exchange “fun” for something deeper, more challenging, and more lasting. We can step away from the claustrophobic environment of our own realms and desires and see anew. We are able to see beyond our own self-image, loosen the shackles of the ego, and engage with the wider web of existence with care and compassion. During the retreat, I experienced some memorable ups and downs, but one of the most salient lessons may be that you don't have to identify with any of them. In Austin, the day after the exorcism, while her daughter slept and recovered from her illness, I meditated on a cushion next to her daughter, grateful for her rest. Fun can be fleeting, but there may be nothing more lasting than sitting next to a recovering child until they get some much-needed rest. All in all, the journey was hard but good.
