Last June, I stood with a group of interfaith clergy and laity in front of the Metropolitan Detention Center in Los Angeles. ICE had ramped up its activities, the National Guard had just arrived in the city, and tensions were running high with a curfew in place. We were there to offer a message of peace and a call for justice. There were songs and prayers, and many of us spoke directly to the line of Los Angeles Police Department (LAPD) officers who had the street closed off. They were in riot gear, standing at attention.
I felt the call to speak, and as I stepped forward, I noticed the National Guard had begun to assemble down the street. Viscerally, what I felt in that moment was fear. It wasn’t my own fear — I had been aware of my anxiousness for a while — but waves of fear coming from the LAPD and the National Guard.
“There is a lot of work to be done right now, and I’m grateful for the teachings that provide a path.”
I had no speech prepared, but I spoke about the fear that was palpable. I invited them to recognize what they were feeling, find where their feet were, tend to their emotions and take a step back from reactivity. I offered some of the Buddha’s words from the Karananiya Metta Sutta – the antidote to fear. I doubt if many of my words landed, but I was keenly aware of our shared humanity. My heart was touched.
That day, and several since then, have been a culmination of many years of work with an interfaith nonprofit which has had me digging deep into Buddhist teachings to show up in ways that previously would have had me heading for the hills. My own familial conditioning taught me that it was better to keep my mouth shut than to say something that might not be liked or welcomed. I learned to smile politely, oftentimes to my own detriment. The craving for approval and belonging took precedence over greeting reality squarely. The idea of hiding in a closet or taking a 3,000-mile trip seemed preferable to facing difficult circumstances or coming into conflict with others, even conflict of the most mundane variety.
My serious practice and study of Buddhism began a little over two decades ago. Almost immediately, I was greeted with all those feelings and habits of mind I had worked so hard to keep at bay. Dukkha is often described as the inability to be with what is. That resonated with me. By recognizing my old patterns and conditioning, the path ahead became clear.
For me, refuge in the dharma meant refuge in the Eightfold Path and other core teachings. They weren’t just lists of things to be memorized, but a way of life. Sila, or living ethically, stood out front and center. Inside of sila was the concept of Wise Speech, from which I understood that we must say what needs to be said. This had a direct impact on my tendency to hide from the discomfort of speaking up. I had committed to this path and despite the terror that permeated my body when I had to say anything, I knew it was the path to liberation.
Speaking out to those I was afraid of offending, whether co-workers, loved ones, or even strangers who held some perceived sway over me was viscerally painful and terrifying. Thinking about what I would say and then being willing to sit with the somatic response was quite a shift. Ultimately, it was the ability to bring compassion to those responses and acknowledge their validity, while still saying what needed to be said, where I found freedom.
As I was able to show up around Wise Speech, the other factors of the Eightfold Path felt more and more like a foundation. I think of it as a net for a trapeze artist; as my old conditioning and views began to fall away, I would land on the path that offered guidance on which direction to move. I thought of the words of the wise teacher, Ruth King: “My intention is to live in a way that allows other people to feel safe around me.” If all we have are our actions, they should be grounded in wisdom and compassion at all times.
The Eightfold Path invites us to not just avoid causing harm or intentionally taking a life, but to actively cultivate good will and compassion. It invites us to not only refrain from taking what is not freely offered, but to cultivate generosity in all its forms. We are invited to not just tell the truth, but to speak up when called for.
This foundation got a lot of practice when I joined the board of that interfaith organization, which brings together clergy and lay leaders of all faiths to walk with the marginalized, the unheard, and the least protected, often low-wage workers and immigrants. We walk with them in their struggle for economic and social justice. Over the last several years, I have been asked to show up in ways that were foreign to me. In each case, I have fallen back on the Eightfold Path and asked what the wise and compassionate response would be.
By doing so, my foundation has become more solid. My connection with others has become deeper, and there is a willingness to show up despite fear. I find my sense of self dissolving a little, replaced by the recognition of our shared humanity and the intention is to work towards the liberation of all. There is a lot of work to be done right now, and I’m grateful for the teachings that provide a path. It’s a long journey and, as I like to say, “I’m not dead, so I’m not done.”
These days, many of us are asking how we can help or get involved to address the injustices we see in the world. It’s important to remember that none of us has to do anything alone, or anything grandiose. Getting involved can be as simple as looking around your neighborhood, helping at a food bank, or working in a community garden. Maybe it’s getting involved in politics, or climate action, or child care. I encourage you to find what you’re interested in and walk in that direction, allowing yourself to be guided by wisdom and compassion.
This article was created in collaboration with Buddhist Justice Reporter, founded by Buddhist POC in response to the police torture and killing of George Floyd, inspired by the anti-lynching journalistic work of Ida B. Wells-Barnett.