Reflecting on tonight's Buddhist study class, I realize how much one of the practitioner's comments had really struck a deep chord with me. She described how many of the chapter we had been reading in Chan and Enlightenment circle around the notion that everything 'comes back to you', meaning that it always comes back to this question of the ultimate source of one's experiences. Indeed, to try to answer such a question using the phenomena as a final appeal would be completely defeating, and yet it is this kind of defeating behavior, I suppose, that keeps us getting caught in the vexations of craving and everyday suffering. This practitioner reminded me of how everything that happens to me is my responsibility. This means that only I can take care of the experience I am having, and there is no way to appeal to anyone else to own my own experiences. While this seems so fundamental to most existential philosophy in particular, it is a hard teaching to live, because I am always appealing to others,including authorities, to help me along the ways of life.I believe that one still needs teachers,but the difference is that at the end of the day,only I can take care of my own experience.
I often find it hard to wrap my head around this fundamental alone-ness. The one thinker who comes to mind as reminding me of this principle is Arthur Schopenhauer, a nineteenth century German philosopher. Schopenhauer had written a work called "The Wisdom of Life". I read this book in my third or fourth year as an undergraduate. Mind you, it wasn't an assigned reading or anything, since Schopenhauer isn't that widely taught in schools these days.But in chapter 1 of this book, Schopenhauer essentially describes how happiness is really a result of one's outlook on life, which Schopenhauer attributes to 'temperament'. Listen to the contrasts that Schopenhauer makes,when he makes the following remarks:
What a man [sic] is in himself [sic], what accompanies him when he is alone, what no one can give or take away, is obviously more essential to him than everything he has in the way of possessions, or even what he may be in the eyes of the world. An intellectual man in complete solitude has excellent entertainment in his own thoughts and fancies, whilst no amount or diversity of social pleasure, theatres, excursions, and amusements, can ward off boredom from a dullard. A good, temperate, gentle character can be happy in needy circumstances, whist a covetous, envious and malicious man, even if he is the richest in the world, goes miserable. (p.15)
What kinds of contrasts does Schopenhauer describe in this passage? Some are quite agreeable to our times, while some seem a bit disagreeable, if not archaic in tone. Schopenhauer contrasted someone of high intellect to the amusements of a 'dullard', which suggests a clear polarity between intellectual and non-intellectual that runs throughout Schopenhauer's writing. I disagree with this distinction. I think that all human beings have some intellectual gift or talent, and the only differences I can observe are in whether these talents are fostered and cultivated. I also acknowledge that each person comes into the world with different conditions acting upon her or him, and therefore different talents as well.
What still resonates in Schopenhauer's writing, to me, is the metaphor of turning 'inward' to find the true and unending source of happiness--a theme that also resonates in a lot of spiritual narratives I have read. As I am reading this passage from Schopenhauer, I wonder: how much am I living according to his ideal concept of a person who finds happiness in herself, rather than dissipating her energies in so many activities or diversions? How much do I really practice the ability to be content with my own being, to not seek out diversions when I lack stimulation? Sadly, I reflect on how easy it is to dissipate my energy when I am spreading myself thin or wanting to complete so many tasks. On the other hand, Schopenhauer intimates how possible it is to find contentment in one's own still mind, rather than looking outward to find amusement or 'salvation in the outside world'.
If I were to go back to this theme of taking ownership and responsibility for one's own experience, I must ask the question, how does one go about this task of taking responsibility for experience? I think that the turn toward a greater enjoyment of solitude is one possible, albeit tentative answer. Through a cultivation of the joys of solitude and alone-ness, one can lessen her attachment to others and preserve energy that might otherwise be dissipated through endless pursuits. Finally, becoming more comfortable in one's solitude is also one good way not to burden others, who also have their own business to deal with.
There may be some out there (often myself included) who might be saying, "what about those who don't enjoy being alone?" I think that many people who are afraid to be alone may not have cultivated a strong faith in their ability to be by themselves, as well as to take a contemplative approach of wholeness. I suggest that people simply make more space and time to be by themselves and meditate,just to get a sense of what happens when we are not so driven by racing thoughts and the pace of daily life. This gradual immersion in meditative solitude might be one ideal way to become more grounded in a happiness that does not come from external elements. Over time, a person might begin to realize that the daily temptations of the phenomenal world are only temporary,and are no substitute for the joy of an uninterrupted sense of being in the universe. Although this sense of being is not an ultimate inquiry into existence, it helps in unifying the body and mind, as well as for bolstering a faith in mind.
Schopenhauer, Arthur (1995), The Wisdom of Life and Counsels and Maxims (tr. T.Bailey Saunders) Prometheus Books
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