Did The Buddha Complain?
What I've learned about preferences, complaints, and the first Noble Truth.
I’ve been told I should complain more.
I tell people I’m mildly dyslexic.
Complaint. Compliant. Same thing.
It’s amazing what a reversal of vowels can do to your psyche.
After all, I grew up with the king of complaints.
Bothers. Brothers. Same thing.
As a child, I reacted to overly vocal expressions of dissatisfaction by being overly approving, forgiving, and well, compliant.
Now, I’m sorting through this mess.
Should I put “A” before “I”?
Should I express dissatisfaction?
Is complaining healthy or toxic?
To unravel this conundrum, I’m returning to the origin of complaining — preferences — to figure out where I went wrong.
What Is A Preference?
“Preference: a greater liking for one alternative over another.”
Milk or sugar. I prefer neither.
When there are at least two options, preferences are simple. Choose the one I like more.
But there are many times when I lack choice and still have a preference.
Sitting on the runway for hours waiting to take off, I’d prefer not. I’d rather be flying.
Watching the stock market disintegrate, I’d prefer not. I’d rather be making money.
Listening to the banging construction of the house next door, I’d prefer not. I’d rather have some peace and quiet.
There are many situations where I have no control, no options, and yet still hold onto a preference.
This may in fact be where humans diverge from other animals. The very thing that makes us intelligent, also can make us incredibly unhappy.
What is this thing?
Imagined Alternatives.
When reality doesn’t go according to plan, my mind imagines the counterfactual:
What is not happening that could happen?
What is not being done that could be done?
What am I not feeling that I could be feeling?
Are any or all of these more enjoyable?
These imagined alternatives take on a Charlie Brown blah, blah, blah, whine, moan, and groan story in my head.
The little voice says, “Hey, I prefer these others things to the reality I’m experiencing. Get me out!”
Enter dissatisfaction, frustration, and annoyance — the seeds of a complaint.
What The Buddha Knew About Complaining
I must say the Buddha was spot on with his assessment of this mental mess.
He proclaimed that our imagined alternatives aren’t necessarily the problem, but our attachment to them can be. A grasping mind is invariably bound up with dukkha (the unsatisfactoriness of life).
The whole phenomenon of preferring, with its cycle of wanting, expecting, and gratifying these preferences, hangs on our way of seeing the world and gums up the whole process of accepting reality as it is.
We remain in bondage to preferences because we see them as our means to happiness. Yet the moment we get the desired alternative, the happiness seems to evaporate.
Once a preference is satisfied. There is just more preference.
The cycle (unsatisfactorily) continues. Complaints ensue.
The seemingly obvious answer to this conundrum is to get rid of preferences — to live free from likes or dislikes, detached, and uncomplaining.
Well…that doesn’t exactly work.
My Mistaken Interpretation of the Buddha
To review, as a kid I had already moved away from the realm of complaining. I perceived it as a bad thing. It was better to deal with annoyance silently than voice my feelings about it.
This predisposition became turbocharged in my early 20s as I learned about Buddhism. If complaining was bad, preferences were worse.
I fell into the trap of thinking that a life without preferences was the escape hatch from a world of suffering.
I veered down the path of ascetic renunciation (or a least a mild, modern form) and told myself, “If I don’t prefer anything, then it doesn’t matter what happens. You can’t disrupt my peace of mind. Checkmate, suffering! I’m fortified against displeasure.”
I appreciate my naiveté.
Truth be told, unattachment can quickly lead to “spiritual bypassing,” a term to describe the use of spiritual teachings to avoid facing parts of your life where you’re being irresponsible, foolhardy, and well, overly complaint. (damn.)
My mindset of “being above preferences” and “against complaining” was reinforced by comments like, “Look at Jeff. He’s so Zen. He never gets bothered by anything.”
Bypassing preferences earned me praise.
If I didn’t express a preference, then you couldn’t fault me for anything. I (thought) I was invulnerable to critique because I opted out of the game of saying what I wanted.
Others could carry the burden of complaining.
If You Lost All Your Stuff, Would You Complain?
I lost most of my material possessions in a house fire when I was 21. The house I was living in my Senior Year of college burned to a crisp.
All that was recovered was a melted laptop and half a rollerblade that had become a twisted piece of modern art.
Did I complain?
Nope.
I think I just hung my head low and accepted what was.
This loss exacerbated my fledgling renunciate mindset which bypassed the emotional impact of the situation, “Oh well, I’m not upset. No need to bother. I didn’t need ‘things’ anyway. They’re not the path to happiness. I’m above all that.”
In an attempt to cope with that crisis, I engaged in an act of premature transcendence, pushing away all the hard stuff I didn’t want to feel.
I convinced myself I was some kind of preference-less buddha on the brink of enlightenment.
Deep inside there was a reality that even I was too scared to admit — I need things. I have preferences.
Sometimes life does suck and a part of me wants to bitch and wail.
I’m not a prefernces-less buddha. Desires, wants, and likes continue to rise up inside of me.
Will I stop pretending I’m unbothered?
I must because bothers build and build, and if unexpressed, they shoot out the cracks of my protective peacemaker personality like a jack-in-the-box — cue passive-aggressive Jeff muttering under his breath.
Was that a complaint I just heard?
What Have I Learned About Complaining?
Repressing complaints denies the very fact that life is hard, sometimes it hurts, and feeling dissatisfied isn’t just ok, it’s is a noble truth.
Trying not to complain was like making an agreement with myself to only feel certain emotions. Contentedness, relaxation, and connection seemed safe. Anger, upset, and bother were not.
However, selective emotional blocks are about as effective as a levy during hurricane Katrina (can I say that?)
Fortifying myself against emotions that could lead to complaining also meant stifling joy, zest, and other important feelings.
I wasn’t aware enough at the time to realize I was caught in a futile shell game of emotional manipulation.
So now I try not to suppress my feelings, but take my preferences lightly.
I believe what the Buddha was actually teaching was not to live a life without preferences (not possible), but to notice preferences arise, and not cling to them.
I prefer my coffee strong. When I get a weak, watery cup, I feel disappointed. I’m momentarily upset. I try to allow the bother to be there, to truly feel the emotion.
In that moment, do I say something?
Am I allowed to complain that this cup did not live up to my expectations?
Yes, as long as I can do so in a kind and compassionate way.
The Idea of “Compassionate Complaining”.
Compassionate complaints are statements of preferences and unmet expectations that do not deny the truth of suffering but also account for the emotional impact of voicing that complaint on the people nearby.
Compassionate complaints are ways of stating that one is suffering (even if it is of relatively trivial matters) without making others wrong or causing undue distress, blame, or shame.
To complain compassionately, one must abide by these eight conditions:
Gentle in tone and kind of heart.
Respectful of other perspectives.
Appreciate of whatever effort was made, even if it’s not up to expectations.
Acknowledges that people are not simply tools to satisfy my needs, nor are they mind readers (i.e. don’t punish people for things they never agreed to.)
Honest about my feelings, even the moaning, unhappy ones.
Stated directly rather than with passive-aggressive implicature
Offered with the intent to share my inner experience as a means of creating more connection or satisfaction for everyone.
Accepts my responsibility in changing the situation (if possible) rather than offering critique with no actionable remedy.
Yes, these are a lot of terms and conditions. There’s no way I’ll hit the mark all the time.
Heck, if I can check off a few of these boxes, I believe my communication would dramatically improve.
And if I had to boil it down, I’d say #1, 7, & 8 are the most essential.
They address how am I saying this? Why am I saying this? and what am I taking responsibility to do about it?
Seems like a reasonable place to start.
If you have complaints, please voice them below.
I’ll do my best to do the same.
~ Jeff