Fun

I don't know of anybody who has more fun than me.

It may not look that way from the outside.  Most days, I get to go to work at a job among people with whom I have nothing in common other than our mutual place of employment, and with whom I would not associate under any other circumstance (although, to be fair, they would say the same of me).  After work on most days, I get to go home to an empty house - other than a couple of cats - and read a little, post to my blog, and maybe download a little music.  Then it's off to bed to do the same thing over again the next day.

But here's the thing - to me, that's fun.  Or at least, I've learned to find the fun in it.  Remember how much fun it was the first time you got to drive a car?  When did it stop becoming fun?  And why?  I get to drive a car at least twice every day, and it's not that hard a trick to rediscover the fun in driving to and from work.  If the traffic's backed up and you're stuck somewhere not moving, it can still be fun.  Watch the reactions and antics of others.  Watch the reactions and antics of yourself.  Even being stuck in traffic can be fun if you choose to look at it that way - plus you're a whole lot less likely to get in an accident, so it's certainly safer.

Our minds decide what is fun and what isn't.  Usually, what we decide is fun involves us getting what we want, gratifying our desires for amusement or novelty or excitement.  When we're not getting those things we want, we decide that it isn't fun any more.  

But what if, as the Buddha advised, we give up our wanting?  While you might think at first that it would mean that nothing would be fun, I'm telling you from my own experience that a surprising thing can happen - that "no fun" sensation of not getting what you want also disappears, and with a little bit of practice, a sensation of contentment, satisfaction, even joy - in short, fun - can take its place.  

Now, this is usually the point where someone says, "Yeah, that's all fine and good, but what if you're getting stabbed by someone?  Or raped?  Still having fun there, Buddha-boy?"

Well, that's where practice helps as well.  As we learn to allow our minds to settle and find that still, quiet space, we observe that the universe rushing around us is moving awfully fast and that nothing lasts forever.  In short, everything is impermanent.  That pain in your legs while practicing zazen disappears as soon as the bell rings and you get up again.  That frustration and anger we feel in traffic is gone as soon as the cars start moving again.  No experience, no matter how horrific, lasts forever (although sometimes, for some reason, we try to make it that way by holding it in our mind far after the experience has ended).  Fun hasn't disappeared during these unpleasant interludes - it's just a little harder to find, like the moon might be when behind clouds.

So, there's that.  More and more, I find that I can look at my experience and realize that regardless of whether I choose to accept and enjoy it or reject and suffer it, the experience still occurs, so why not select the former?  And in so doing, I experience what can only be fairly described as "fun."

As we go through life, we're going to have every experience imaginable, both good and bad, happy and sad,  boring and fun.  The problem is that we always want to pick and choose which experiences we're going to have and when, and we almost always choose from Column A and never from Column B.  If we let go of our picking and choosing, we're free to experience whatever happens as and when it happens, and to go through this wild, exhilarating, fascinating, and occasionally addictive but never, ever boring thing called "life," and fully realize, fully savor, fully enjoy, every last drop of it.

And that's fun.