Safety: In Black and White

The Five Remembrances

I am of the nature to age
Aging is inevitable
I am of the nature to experience illness
Illness is inevitable
I am of the nature to die
Death is inevitable
All that I hold onto, treasure, and love
I will be separated from
I am the owner of my actions
All that I do skillfully and unskillfully
I will be heir to


The above is my translation of the remembrances and I say them often.  They embody for me the reality of being a human being.  They also underscore impermanence.  Appreciate, enjoy, but do not attach.  It is all going away, both the good and the bad, however we define those things and experiences. The remembrances also speak to me as an African American that safety is delusional.  I have never been safe.

As I have chosen to move outside my community and engage with people of other races of different ecomomic status, in light of the dharma, I have been intrigued at how differently we see ourselves in the world.  One of those differences is the belief in safety.  As someone who believes the dharma calls on us to be more hardy, more able to see clearly the 10,000 joys and sorrows, I am intrigued by the call for safety.  The dharma has not made me safe.  It has turned my life upside down in wonderful and dangerous ways.  It has allowed me to be more present to my place in this society and the real physical, social, and economic peril that is part of my life.  It has also, in large part freed me from the terror that can come with being "woke."  It has not made me safe.

In fact, it supports the reality of my life and most people on the planet, that we are not safe.  To believe in safety is to be delusional.  Yet belief in safety is often a place of deep difference between me and white people I know.  That desire to be "safe" means we will never be able to connect deeply, because by nature of my skin and status I am unsafe.  I come with a history and a life that will open "safe" spaces to pain and knowledge of the clear injustice of this society.  We can only be together on cushions in beautiful and quiet and safe places.  Are you afraid to come where I live?  Do you think i live in "hell?"  The shock at video of black people being killed by the police is shocking to me.  Did you think slavery was an unpaid farm workers program?  Did you think the various skin tones of black people was not often the result of rape? Why were you surprised? Did you think all those instances you read about were due to bad choices?  I think the delusion of safety is a mask for the delusion of separation.

Safety also is explained as the result of making "good" decisions.  You live in the right neighborhood, went to college, got the good job, are a good person and stay away from bad/criminal people and places.  The "goodness" that proceeds from being safe also assumes that people struggling in some way brought that on themselves.  It is a kind of social Darwinism.  The belief in safety is a barrier between you and me.

Being Present: Numbness vs. Strength

My son has recently had a gun held to his head and robbed of a small amount of money this past Wednesday (August 17, 2016).  I was within a nano second of being another black mother torn asunder by the death of her black son.  This tragic figure that is so common in our media that it is viewed and barely remarked upon.  This is what happens to us, we black people.  We get killed in every day existence and some even see this as "our lives."  The violence erupting because of fatal flaws and decisions.

I have always understood that my child, my black son is at constant risk.  My stomach tightens every time he leaves me.  At nineteen, he doesn't even have the patina of childhood to protect him, although some studies show that black children are seen as adults as young as 10 years old.  This recent occurrence changes my black and white fear to Technicolor.  Not beaten and left concussed as he was a year and four months ago, but dead this time.  A violent anniversary.

I am numb.  I talked to police, I went to work, and I cancelled the phone and made arrangements through the insurance company to get him a new phone.  I am numb, not strong.  I cannot fully deal with the idea of burying another child.  The thought occurs that I have often mistaken numbness for strength.  The crash that awaited came as a surprise.  It devastated me in part because I was unaware of its roots.

I am numb, but because of the practice I am aware of it and not lost in the only positive fantasy this society allots to black women...we are sooooooooo strong in the face of real nightmares.  Many of us carry outrageous burdens of awareness every damn day.  Many of us are numb.

The gift of the practice is awareness.  I am numb, but aware of it.  I am numb, so I am walking and feeling my body as it moves and awaiting the inevitable crash that will come with curiosity and hope.  The crash will not surprise me and the hurricane of fear, despair, resentment, anger and tears will find me ready.

Namo Amida Butsu