Lately, I have been wanting to learn more about the deeper theories and psychological aspects of Buddhism, and it has made me more determined to read as much as I can in the little free time I have. But there are moments such as today where all the theories seem like tiny sticks floating in a jetsam on the ocean. There are so many theories of mind out there in the Buddhist tradition, and it is often hard to piece together a common narrative. I begin to feel that learning such theories requires a kind of mental pliability: an ability not to confuse the maps with the territory, and even to let go of the maps when required.
Certainly, one of the wholesome states of mind that Venerable Chang Hwa described in her talk to Toronto last weekend was the notion of "upeksha", which is sometimes translated as renunciation. In other cases, I believe it is translated as "pliancy", or the ability to adapt oneself to the circumstances and let go of rigid views of the world or one's place in it. Geshe Kelsang Gyatso, a Tibetan Buddhist teacher, remarks:
Whether we are listening to Dharma teachings, reading Dharma books, reciting prayers, contemplating, or meditating, we should do so with a light and happy mind, like a child at play....We may think that renunciation, for example,.is a joyless state of mind because it is so keenly aware of the suffering nature of samsara, but in fact renunciation is a light and peaceful mind that is bound for freedom (p.162)
I often struggle with pliancy, because the concept represents a subtle middle path which is not so easy to grasp. I am someone who, I believe, loves to create systematic or overarching 'models' of things. If there are situations where things seem fragmented or there is simply not enough time for me to see the big picture unfold, I often feel frustration arising. Geshe Kelsang Gyatso offers a different view, and that is to see the process of learning itself as somewhat spontaneous, joyful and unsystematic. Even though the teachings of Buddhism are quite systematic at a certain level, people who practice or learn those teachings don't need to be attached to systems themselves. They can take in as much as they like, and try to find spaces in what they hear to create meaningful action or change. However, one needn't do so out of a need to 'perfect' one's knowledge or be able to know 'everything'. In this sense, the motivation is not to 'complete' education but to play within the experience itself.
Caroline Brazier offers the analogy of musical players, to describe what learning might look like, in her book, Buddhist Psychology:
To play music requires training and personal discipline. Although the music is full of passion and spontaneity, it comes to life only if the musicians have trained. They must also be able to play together. Producing good music in a group requires good co-operation. The players must be willing to blend with one another, letting go of individualistic styles and preferences in favour of the collective sound. They must be willing to place the shared performance higher in their priorities than their personal agendas, and to focus energy towards this. (1993, p.19)
Brazier compares this analogy to that of learning Buddhist teachings, where "it is not...a matter of willpower. It is rather a matter of being willing to flow." (ibid, italics mine). Like Geshe Kelsang Gyatso, Brazier offers an analogy which points to the joy of spontaneously flowing with one's experiences, rather than always trying to create a complete explanation for what or why something is happening. I get a feeling that for both teachers, the love or 'joy' of learning in itself is much more important than getting it all together or having a complete system realized in front of us. And, given the nature of dependent origination, it may not even be possible to realize a systematic world in one's present moment. There may always be a kind of messiness to life, where there are continued interruptions that disrupt one's sense of what 'wholeness' is supposed to look like from one moment to the next. Perhaps the ultimate view might be to see that wholeness is always what is happening, not what I imagine would complete what is happening.
Relating back to my previous post on social justice and Buddhism: I have to wonder if perhaps the biggest contribution that Buddhism could (potentially) make to areas of social justice would be to shift the paradigms away from "model" society-building, and toward an unfolding, collaborative, non-dualistic agenda that continually shifts with the contribution of different, multilayered voices. Being with the ensuing confusion: what would that look like in terms of bringing about needed changes to the way people socialize and harmonize? Would it be too scary? Would it seem too passive, too resigned, too 'amorphous', like walking in molasses? Would it entail every sentient being learning to relinquish control while experiencing the joy of that relinquishment?
In another sense, I think the idea of 'pliancy' as applied to learning would be to trust one's own improvisations, and not worry too much if they have fully integrated what they were meant to absorb in a particular teaching, world-view, system or philosophy. If the teaching or idea has created a lasting influence on one's thinking, then it will surely show up there at some point. If not, that is okay as well, since there is often no real way of determining which seeds planted in mind will reach fruition, or when, or in what form. I guess that's the adventure of learning.
Brazier, Caroline, (2003), Buddhist Psychology: Liberate Your Mind, Embrace Life. London: Robinson
Gyatso, Geshe Kelsang, (1993), Understanding the Mind. London: Tharpa Publications
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