Take Back Your Apartment

The biggest party I ever threw was twenty years ago in Cairo. It wasn’t supposed to be big: I only invited about six people, some of whom asked if they could bring a friend. What I didn’t realize is that those people told people who told people who put the party up on one of those Internet sites recommending free nightlife events.

At about midnight, my landlady called. There are a hundred people in the lobby, she said. I hurried down and found, to my horror, that I couldn’t push my way through the crowd. At one point, a well-dressed Sudanese man asked me, Whose party is this? Mine, I said. Don’t be silly, he said. If it’s your party, why are you out here with us, waiting to get in?

So often, we feel we’re on the outside looking in. People leave, things don’t go our way, and it feels like life is just happening to us. And it’s true that the world isn’t fair in the sense of conforming to any reasonable standards of justice. But when we get lost in “fair” and “unfair”, we forget that we feel like outsiders mainly because our awareness is so often outside ourselves, focused on other people and situations. As the Buddha said, when you abandon your ancestral field — your body — you’ll never feel safe or at home, no matter where you go.

So you have to find a way to get back into your apartment. The Buddha recommends focusing on your breath. If you’re feeling defeated, how can you breathe in a way that gives rise to a sense of hope? If you’re feeling angry, how can you breathe in a way that allows the anger to move in positive directions? You may need to ask some guests to leave. You may struggle with that. But it’s your home, your body, your life.

In the West, we have a very passive idea of compassion. We want to keep living exactly the way we’re living, keep thinking exactly the way we’re thinking, and have people feel bad for us. But that’s pity, not compassion. Compassion is Jesus sweeping the moneylenders out of the temple. Compassion is sweeping your mind of the thoughts that cause you to suffer. I hate raising my voice, but I did. Khalas, I said. We all love a good party, but you can’t have it here.