The story of Medusa continues to inspire me, ever since I first became acquainted with it through the popular 1981 movie Clash of the Titans. I was quite enthralled as a child to see the then "state of the art" technology through which Medusa is portrayed. Looking back on it now, as a teacher who is about to prepare a class on "Heroes" to young students, I am not so sure whose side I am on anymore, and sometimes I am more inclined to sympathize with Medusa than with Perseus. After all, as the story explains, Perseus sets out to slay Medusa on a dare from a rather foolish king named Polydectes. In this fashion, Medusa is slain without much more motive than, say, showing off (literally) one's exploits and proving the protagonist's mettle as a heroic figure in Greek mythology. If there were any figure to be pitied, perhaps it would indeed be Medusa, who is punished with very "hideous" looks (again, subjective) by a goddess who despises her bragging. Needless to say, many of the stories of the gods and goddesses relate fascinating tussles that are inspired mostly by jealousy.
But to compare this myth in the light of Chan, I sometimes ask myself, what does the story of Medusa tell us about the mind? The key to the story is the theme of "reflection" or seeing one's image in the mirror. Medusa's downfall is that her nemesis has a shield which prevents him from seeing directly into Medusa's face; the shield also contains a mirror which allows Perseus to see Medusa's image without seeing her face "directly". Does any of this remind the Chan practitioner of any analogies in Surangama Sutra, such as the finger that points to the moon, or the moon's reflection itself? For Perseus, seeing the image as an image dis-empowers the gaze of Medusa. Because the mirror is only a construction or an appearance, Perseus doesn't actually succumb to the effect of Medusa's powers.
I believe that this story speaks to two particular aspects of Chan practice. One is about seeing the nature of the mind, particularly the tendency to take things around us to be "real" meaning static, permanent and independent entities. This permanence grants power to what is otherwise only an appearance that is fleeting and has no permanence. I am sure that people have had the experience at some point of being in a dream where they feel that they are falling or tripping over something, after which they have a knee jerk reaction that makes their body try to "balance" itself. Once the person recognizes the dream for what it is, the sense of falling is also seen as a reaction to an appearance in a dream. Unless the person falls back into the power of the dream itself, they will not succumb to the belief that what they "tripped on" was a real thing that exists outside the mind.
The second aspect speaks to the tendency for humans to believe that they are engaging independent beings, instead of thoughts. This often happens in cases where a person is angry from a fight or conversely feeling "good" about someone else. Even when the person is no longer present, the person will often bring up thoughts about them and take these thoughts as the actual existence of the person in front of them. To know that these thoughts aren't actual people is like having a shield that shows the reflections of things as only reflections, not "actual" beings. It is sometimes scary to realize that most of our days are spent interacting with thoughts instead of with "real" persons but it can be liberating in the sense that one is no longer enmeshed in a never ending conversation with their thoughts.
Friday, November 30, 2018
Thursday, November 29, 2018
Walking Out Loud
Subway reading is one of the most interesting ways to pass the time. But what is it about a moving train that ignites one's relationship with reading? I can only speak for myself, since not everyone totes their book on the subway, but I do think it has a lot to do with the way my thinking depends on a sense of motion. In fact, even as early as age 5 or 6, moving around and walking from place to place was the way for me to go into deeper reflections.
This doesn't mean that walking is the only way to stimulate thinking. In fact, I do believe that part of the magic of walking is also in its contrast with sitting. "Sitting" and "walking" are contrastive metaphors for the process of thinking. While one is about focus, the other is more about range. If I am only "sitting on" one topic, I often find myself stuck on a problem that a movement will allow me to emerge from. "Walking" offers a metaphor through which a shift can be made from one topic to another.
When we do the sitting and walking meditation, we are essentially engaging in a contrastive approach as well; sitting, is our mind really still? Walking, is the mind really moving? When one examines the mind in both stillness and motion, they might begin to see that it is neither this nor that.
This doesn't mean that walking is the only way to stimulate thinking. In fact, I do believe that part of the magic of walking is also in its contrast with sitting. "Sitting" and "walking" are contrastive metaphors for the process of thinking. While one is about focus, the other is more about range. If I am only "sitting on" one topic, I often find myself stuck on a problem that a movement will allow me to emerge from. "Walking" offers a metaphor through which a shift can be made from one topic to another.
When we do the sitting and walking meditation, we are essentially engaging in a contrastive approach as well; sitting, is our mind really still? Walking, is the mind really moving? When one examines the mind in both stillness and motion, they might begin to see that it is neither this nor that.
Tuesday, November 27, 2018
Work Life Balance
I am not at all an expert on this topic, but I wanted to share a few thoughts I have about it. Many people believe that they have no choice but to put work before their own existence simply because they reason, "If not me, who else will do this job?" I find that this latter question is a noble one, in the sense that it doesn't shift blame or responsibility to others when it comes to doing work that needs to be done. However, I have recently observed in myself this fine line between seeing something as needing to be done and seeing that actually I am creating some of this urgency in myself. Even when a company is strapped for time and resources, there is in fact never a time when a person direly needs to do anything to survive. Want to? Yes. Is this additional work I might be taking on an asset to keeping this job? Of course. But one is never ever forced to go beyond what they are reasonably capable of doing to make those ends meet. It's only when a person starts to imagine that they absolutely must exceed all their targets that this "nice" and "want to" becomes a dire need to one's mind. So, one must always ask the question, is it really that I need to do all of this, or is this should only representing an ideal that is shared (albeit temporarily and tentatively) between manager and employees?
I think it's important to reflect that every goal that takes place in the workplace is really designed to maximize human potential in the face of a collective vision or goal. It is not about stretching oneself, but rather there is an ideal there which represents how the organization might benefit from someone's dedicated work. But when taken to extremes, ideals can sometimes lead to human exhaustion or even a creative exhaustion, realizing that too much of anything can become a kind of deadening routine over time. That's why it's important that people ask themselves whether working hard and fast is always conducive to a healthy mind and body.
I think it's important to reflect that every goal that takes place in the workplace is really designed to maximize human potential in the face of a collective vision or goal. It is not about stretching oneself, but rather there is an ideal there which represents how the organization might benefit from someone's dedicated work. But when taken to extremes, ideals can sometimes lead to human exhaustion or even a creative exhaustion, realizing that too much of anything can become a kind of deadening routine over time. That's why it's important that people ask themselves whether working hard and fast is always conducive to a healthy mind and body.
Monday, November 26, 2018
In the Spirit of Evaluation
Marking student assignments can be quite an ordeal until one realizes that they are students: that is, there are actual people who need feedback and even a bit of recognition for each assignment they submit. Many teachers might operate from the assumption that students are only submitting assignments for that dry number called a grade. Since I am not at all grading my own students for the Saturday classes, I cannot fall back on this answer, so my feedback has to take the form of thoughtful comments that reflect what the students actually wrote. And, as time consuming as this has proven to be even for such a small group of students, I have found some gratification in being able to look more closely at how the student's writing reflects themselves and their true interests and inclinations.
Feedback often feels "secondary", because the teacher essentially comments on a student's writing, in much the same way that a movie reviewer might comment on someone else's movie. There are times when, even as someone who has been asked to write reference letters for friends and colleagues, I wonder whether all of my comments mean anything considering that the creators will create whatever they wish regardless of my comments. But the point is that when I am actively commenting on a part of a student's writing that seems interesting or noteworthy, I am also thinking about my genuine connection with the student, and this actually contributes to the classroom dynamic. For one, I am showing a certain level of care and commitment when I take the time to actively comment on a students' writing. For another, the process of doing so really forces me to consider how I authentically connect with the students' writing, from the tiniest punctuation detail to the deftest stylistic move.
Feedback often feels "secondary", because the teacher essentially comments on a student's writing, in much the same way that a movie reviewer might comment on someone else's movie. There are times when, even as someone who has been asked to write reference letters for friends and colleagues, I wonder whether all of my comments mean anything considering that the creators will create whatever they wish regardless of my comments. But the point is that when I am actively commenting on a part of a student's writing that seems interesting or noteworthy, I am also thinking about my genuine connection with the student, and this actually contributes to the classroom dynamic. For one, I am showing a certain level of care and commitment when I take the time to actively comment on a students' writing. For another, the process of doing so really forces me to consider how I authentically connect with the students' writing, from the tiniest punctuation detail to the deftest stylistic move.
Sunday, November 25, 2018
More on Demonic States
While reading Surangama Sutra's chapter on demonic states of mind arising from sense perception, a lot of things come to mind. I sometimes wonder what is the correct "balance" between trying to overcome the temptations of the senses and not attaching to the overcoming itself. In one's day to day life, one must continually interact with phenomena as phenomena. For instance, if I am seeing the sign for the black Friday sale, I am truly going to see it in all its enticements. To "turn away" from the sign thinking that this will help me overcome my temptation to shop..is this truly spiritual practice? Or is it perhaps more "spiritual" for me to not turn away from phenomena, even if it's tempting to become attached to it? I believe that there is a middle path between these two extremes of wanting to indulge the senses and trying to dull the mind from senses altogether.
For myself, I have found that the strong sense of "I" is the real heart of temptation, not the phenomena itself. When I am attached to the sense of a self that wants to satisfy itself, all the phenomena become a source of vexation, because the self attaches some meaning to the phenomena. On a subconscious level, the phenomena are not just seen "as they are" but become either additions or subtractions to this sense of self. If I am looking at the irritation as coming from the self, I am not seeing the phenomena for what it is, but I am attaching instead to the associations I create with respect to it. To see something for what it is...what does this mean other than to see it as not fettered with one's personal meanings around it?
For myself, I have found that the strong sense of "I" is the real heart of temptation, not the phenomena itself. When I am attached to the sense of a self that wants to satisfy itself, all the phenomena become a source of vexation, because the self attaches some meaning to the phenomena. On a subconscious level, the phenomena are not just seen "as they are" but become either additions or subtractions to this sense of self. If I am looking at the irritation as coming from the self, I am not seeing the phenomena for what it is, but I am attaching instead to the associations I create with respect to it. To see something for what it is...what does this mean other than to see it as not fettered with one's personal meanings around it?
Saturday, November 24, 2018
From Darkness to Wholeness
Many heroic journeys seem to follow a typical pattern of defeating monsters and moving toward a kind of projected prize. It is as though somehow the "gain" were separate from the actual process of moving through one's difficulties. I beg to differ and suggest that what we call "monsters" are actually projections of things that we don't necessarily savor about ourselves that we haven't properly integrated into our personalities. Our lives are repeated efforts to reintegrate lost or dislodged inner material--and when I mean "dislodged", I am literally describing the book that gets lodged between the bookshelf and the wall by mistake! Sometimes things that were meant to lead to a fully adjusting person just get stuck between those cracks, and never truly function quite as desired. However, perhaps from a developmental perspective, there are always these chances in life that they lead to new growth possibilities later down the road.
To use the analogy of, say, a seed that accidentally gets lodged into a crack between one thing and another: trees will grow no matter whether their seeds are planted in convenient or inconvenient spaces. Whether or not they integrate well in the rest of the environment...well, that's a slightly different story. But the point is that growth is there, and it intermingles with the environment in ways that create creative collaborations and symbiosis, to the point where one can no longer define with any certainty how a tree is ideally meant to grow. But when the right moments come together, there are new insights that allow a person to transform their potentials in new ways. I believe that a combination of inner effort and outer serendipity is needed for these things to come together.
To use the analogy of, say, a seed that accidentally gets lodged into a crack between one thing and another: trees will grow no matter whether their seeds are planted in convenient or inconvenient spaces. Whether or not they integrate well in the rest of the environment...well, that's a slightly different story. But the point is that growth is there, and it intermingles with the environment in ways that create creative collaborations and symbiosis, to the point where one can no longer define with any certainty how a tree is ideally meant to grow. But when the right moments come together, there are new insights that allow a person to transform their potentials in new ways. I believe that a combination of inner effort and outer serendipity is needed for these things to come together.
Friday, November 23, 2018
Immanence and Its Risks
In the last several years, I consider myself to be exploring an "imminent" spiritual life. When I refer to "immanent", I am actually talking about seeing the world and all its activities as inseparable from the mind itself. It's not that I take the spirit on the one hand and separate it from daily life; on the contrary, daily life is identical to the spiritual principle itself, to the point where I can never take myself out of a life of mind or spirit. The danger or risk of this approach is that it can lead to a sense of permissiveness, or "letting things happen" without an accompanying awareness of what is happening and why. For this reason, certain principles still need to be observed in mindfulness.
For example,it's not just what am seeing that's important in mindfulness practice, but being aware of how I am approaching what I see. Do I take things to be so real that I start to interact with them, or do I see these phenomena as arising because of the way the mind is functioning? If I am truly mindful, it's not just the objects I am aware of but also the relationships I am forming and how these relationships can be a form of suffering if they mistaken things as tangible and permanent.
A very good example we can take from Surangama Sutra is the tendency to attribute discrete powers to certain things. A "lamp" is said to be a "source of light", and one tends to point to a lamp as an example of something that originates light. However,in reality, a whole lot of conditions are needed to make the light perform this function: one needs space to transmit the light, a mind that sees the light, eyes, and even an unobstructed area. Without all these conditions, could light exist? In the same way, I might attribute frustration to a specific stimulus, yet not realize that part of my aversion to it is mental associations I have accumulated over the years which have been triggered by seeing that stimulus. These associations are not automatically contained in the object, but they are imposed on it by a process of mental bestowal.
Some people might see mindfulness as simply a kind of "seeing things as they are", but it's more complicated than this. Mindfulness itself comes from specific spiritual traditions which do have aims to liberate people from a state of suffering in the world. This doesn't come from simply accepting everything passively, but requires an ability to unearth the mental dynamics that contribute to suffering in the first place, including the tendency to cling to one's experiences. If I mistakenly believe that mindfulness is only a state of acquiescing to experience, I fail to realize how I am actively constructing experiences themselves and even setting mental traps for myself, resulting in more suffering.
For example,it's not just what am seeing that's important in mindfulness practice, but being aware of how I am approaching what I see. Do I take things to be so real that I start to interact with them, or do I see these phenomena as arising because of the way the mind is functioning? If I am truly mindful, it's not just the objects I am aware of but also the relationships I am forming and how these relationships can be a form of suffering if they mistaken things as tangible and permanent.
A very good example we can take from Surangama Sutra is the tendency to attribute discrete powers to certain things. A "lamp" is said to be a "source of light", and one tends to point to a lamp as an example of something that originates light. However,in reality, a whole lot of conditions are needed to make the light perform this function: one needs space to transmit the light, a mind that sees the light, eyes, and even an unobstructed area. Without all these conditions, could light exist? In the same way, I might attribute frustration to a specific stimulus, yet not realize that part of my aversion to it is mental associations I have accumulated over the years which have been triggered by seeing that stimulus. These associations are not automatically contained in the object, but they are imposed on it by a process of mental bestowal.
Some people might see mindfulness as simply a kind of "seeing things as they are", but it's more complicated than this. Mindfulness itself comes from specific spiritual traditions which do have aims to liberate people from a state of suffering in the world. This doesn't come from simply accepting everything passively, but requires an ability to unearth the mental dynamics that contribute to suffering in the first place, including the tendency to cling to one's experiences. If I mistakenly believe that mindfulness is only a state of acquiescing to experience, I fail to realize how I am actively constructing experiences themselves and even setting mental traps for myself, resulting in more suffering.
Thursday, November 22, 2018
Gratitude and "going forward"
Looking at things from a spiritual lens can be a source of gratitude. When I am talking about gratitude here, I am not referring to a sentiment per se, but more like a state of appreciation where a person reflects that things are happening precisely because they need to unfold in the way they are: complex conditions are shaping the event, from the social structure to the language and other influences. But also, I believe that one can look at things from the point of view of general semantics. When I am understanding that the things I refer to are "not the territory" but are merely reference points, then I am no longer relying on my maps. I am suddenly awakened to the fact that there are no precise maps, and one must fundamentally rely on nothing but one's own being to navigate the difficulties that life throws in our way.
Sometimes life is going forward into the unknown. How can a person really deal with that? They can start by realizing that every source of humiliation that the world throws at them is really the opportunity to see that there is not even a "self" to put down. After all, if I am still living even after humiliation, where did this "self" go? Who is the "self", after all, who is being humiliated? It's worthwhile to stop here and reflect on that, since people often define themselves in terms of their presumed achievements and accomplishments. One never realizes that even these achievements are relative: to someone who is a stranger from another country, your accomplishments are of not that much importance to them. So why cling to such accomplishments? Are they not only expedient means through which we stay connected in the world and contribute a small part in such a short time?
Humiliation is also an opportunity to practice going on without relying on the approval of others. How I think others see me probably has nothing whatsoever to do with how they do see me. And even when they do see me in an unfavorable light, I am still here, fundamentally, and there is strength to be found in that realization if one has the ability to turn inwards and reflect deeply on it.
Sometimes life is going forward into the unknown. How can a person really deal with that? They can start by realizing that every source of humiliation that the world throws at them is really the opportunity to see that there is not even a "self" to put down. After all, if I am still living even after humiliation, where did this "self" go? Who is the "self", after all, who is being humiliated? It's worthwhile to stop here and reflect on that, since people often define themselves in terms of their presumed achievements and accomplishments. One never realizes that even these achievements are relative: to someone who is a stranger from another country, your accomplishments are of not that much importance to them. So why cling to such accomplishments? Are they not only expedient means through which we stay connected in the world and contribute a small part in such a short time?
Humiliation is also an opportunity to practice going on without relying on the approval of others. How I think others see me probably has nothing whatsoever to do with how they do see me. And even when they do see me in an unfavorable light, I am still here, fundamentally, and there is strength to be found in that realization if one has the ability to turn inwards and reflect deeply on it.
Wednesday, November 21, 2018
Sense of Wonder
When I am doing group meditation sitting these days, I am often faced with tiredness from the overtime hours I am doing at work. For the first half of the sitting today, I was not doing well to stay awake. It was only later in the second sitting that I was able to do some adjustments to my posture and sitting which would allow me to be more aware of my method. It's often the case that I am in a situation of simply struggling to hang onto my method.
I have found that one way to engage myself in these situations is simply to be curious about drowsiness and sleepiness. I am not talking about "curious" as in wanting to know why something is happening (which can lead to a great many explanations, some useful and some not). Rather, I am talking more about looking into the experience itself as providing insight into the mind's infinite nature. As soon as I say that I am "sleepy", and label the experience, I end up not allowing myself to be curious in this way about my experiences. This might be more akin to a sense of wonder, much like the wonder that a child has when they are playing some simple game.
I notice that when I have already assumed that something has a meaning, I am committing to responding to it in a certain way. If as a teacher I am referring to my students as "troubled", I am giving that experience a name that pre-defines how it will be. The same goes for any kind of experience: it's as though the label were a jar that we are using to contain the experience as well as trap ourselves into being with the experience in a pre-packaged way. But what if that "sleepiness" is not sleepiness at all but only one form of awareness among many? Would I see it as a problem or frame it as a challenge to be overcome?
As soon as anything has become an object in mind, there is an already existing story that frames the object to be a certain way. Could this potentially be seen differently? I challenge myself to view my tired moments with an attitude of openness to know just what exactly it is, and who is experiencing it.
I have found that one way to engage myself in these situations is simply to be curious about drowsiness and sleepiness. I am not talking about "curious" as in wanting to know why something is happening (which can lead to a great many explanations, some useful and some not). Rather, I am talking more about looking into the experience itself as providing insight into the mind's infinite nature. As soon as I say that I am "sleepy", and label the experience, I end up not allowing myself to be curious in this way about my experiences. This might be more akin to a sense of wonder, much like the wonder that a child has when they are playing some simple game.
I notice that when I have already assumed that something has a meaning, I am committing to responding to it in a certain way. If as a teacher I am referring to my students as "troubled", I am giving that experience a name that pre-defines how it will be. The same goes for any kind of experience: it's as though the label were a jar that we are using to contain the experience as well as trap ourselves into being with the experience in a pre-packaged way. But what if that "sleepiness" is not sleepiness at all but only one form of awareness among many? Would I see it as a problem or frame it as a challenge to be overcome?
As soon as anything has become an object in mind, there is an already existing story that frames the object to be a certain way. Could this potentially be seen differently? I challenge myself to view my tired moments with an attitude of openness to know just what exactly it is, and who is experiencing it.
Tuesday, November 20, 2018
Directly Going Forward
Master Boshan's "Exhortations on Investigating Chan" (collected in Master Sheng Yen's Attaining the Way) offers quite a bit of sage advice, not only about Chan practice but about life in general. I started re-reading this book today, and I would like to share a few ideas.
Going into a method like huatou requires a certain kind of directness in confronting life's struggle and existential dilemma. Part of what holds people back, according to Master Boshan, is the sense of looking to others for confirmation or approval. Master Boshan remarks:
Do not step haphazardly; do not stand still. Give rise to no other thoughts, and don't count on the help of others..with no other thoughts and refusing to halt, just directly dash forward (p.7)
As I was reading this short passage, I thought: even for non-practitioners who are unfamiliar with Chan, this kind of suggestion is quite useful and helpful. For one, it points to the tendency that people might have of holding back their deepest energies, in expectation of someone to help. What often happens in cases like these is that a person loses their determination to "dash forward" and to overcome their existential anguish, because they are still assuming that "someone else" knows what they're doing. It is as though one forever ignored the voice within them in favor of a fictional expectation that someone else has the answers to one's deepest questions. In fact, I believe that this expectation is both a desire and a fear: a desire to be relieved of the stress of life through the stroking of others, coupled with the fear of rejection or, worse still, being deemed somehow "irrelevant" by others. How did the views of others take such a powerful hold on us in the first place? Again, fear and desire seem to play a key role in these situations.
The second part of Boshan's exhortation has to do with dropping thoughts to arouse a genuine doubt sensation.Sometimes this might seem esoteric, but I see it more as coming to realize one's nose. A nose is not a spectacular thing, and it often gets overlooked among life's details, but if one truly discovers that "this is my nose", everything will cease to be taken for granted, because everything is in the unfolding moment. If I am swept away in identifying with my thoughts, I am not in charge of my life, but if I know that this mind is in this moment, then I do not get caught up in abstractions.
Sheng Yen (2006). Attaining the Way. Boston:: Shambhala
Going into a method like huatou requires a certain kind of directness in confronting life's struggle and existential dilemma. Part of what holds people back, according to Master Boshan, is the sense of looking to others for confirmation or approval. Master Boshan remarks:
Do not step haphazardly; do not stand still. Give rise to no other thoughts, and don't count on the help of others..with no other thoughts and refusing to halt, just directly dash forward (p.7)
As I was reading this short passage, I thought: even for non-practitioners who are unfamiliar with Chan, this kind of suggestion is quite useful and helpful. For one, it points to the tendency that people might have of holding back their deepest energies, in expectation of someone to help. What often happens in cases like these is that a person loses their determination to "dash forward" and to overcome their existential anguish, because they are still assuming that "someone else" knows what they're doing. It is as though one forever ignored the voice within them in favor of a fictional expectation that someone else has the answers to one's deepest questions. In fact, I believe that this expectation is both a desire and a fear: a desire to be relieved of the stress of life through the stroking of others, coupled with the fear of rejection or, worse still, being deemed somehow "irrelevant" by others. How did the views of others take such a powerful hold on us in the first place? Again, fear and desire seem to play a key role in these situations.
The second part of Boshan's exhortation has to do with dropping thoughts to arouse a genuine doubt sensation.Sometimes this might seem esoteric, but I see it more as coming to realize one's nose. A nose is not a spectacular thing, and it often gets overlooked among life's details, but if one truly discovers that "this is my nose", everything will cease to be taken for granted, because everything is in the unfolding moment. If I am swept away in identifying with my thoughts, I am not in charge of my life, but if I know that this mind is in this moment, then I do not get caught up in abstractions.
Sheng Yen (2006). Attaining the Way. Boston:: Shambhala
Monday, November 19, 2018
Apollo and Dionysus
Nietszche has already talked a lot about Apollo and Dionysus as representing two distinct poles of human nature. Whereas Apollo represents structure, art and order, Dionysus has often been associated with a kind of wild fertility. I have recently begun to wonder, however-particularly in light of my recent unit in Greek mythology--which of these two polarities should be stressed more?
From a Buddhist perspective, perhaps another way of looking at this is the middle way. When the strings of a lyre are too tight, a rigid discipline sets in. It's as though a person were entirely governed by serious endeavors and, in the process, left behind the sense of play. On the other hand, too much relaxation can lead to a complete lack of principle or blindness. Both tendencies represent extremes, and yet they also somehow embody a utopian ideal. Although one might idealize "total" order or "total" chaos as the ultimate solution to humanity's problems, in fact, no part of ourselves ought to be left behind or repressed. It needs to be transformed to suit the greater aims of society without repressing these aims.
In meditative practice, there is a definite tendency to want to achieve lofty goals in practice, and yet the body pulls one into pain and pleasure, vexations and obstacles. These obstacles aren't really "obstacles" at all but they are opportunities to stop identifying oneself with only one character trait. In fact, a truly integrated personality encompasses many character traits. But if I am committed to being only one kind of person and miss out on other aspects of myself, I end up revisiting these disowned parts of myself in others. Why the universe works this way, I have no idea, but it's something like: the person who bothers or annoys me is really inviting me to consider parts of myself that I don't really admire. If I can accept those aspects existing deep within myself that I dislike, then I can accept such qualities in others as well.
From a Buddhist perspective, perhaps another way of looking at this is the middle way. When the strings of a lyre are too tight, a rigid discipline sets in. It's as though a person were entirely governed by serious endeavors and, in the process, left behind the sense of play. On the other hand, too much relaxation can lead to a complete lack of principle or blindness. Both tendencies represent extremes, and yet they also somehow embody a utopian ideal. Although one might idealize "total" order or "total" chaos as the ultimate solution to humanity's problems, in fact, no part of ourselves ought to be left behind or repressed. It needs to be transformed to suit the greater aims of society without repressing these aims.
In meditative practice, there is a definite tendency to want to achieve lofty goals in practice, and yet the body pulls one into pain and pleasure, vexations and obstacles. These obstacles aren't really "obstacles" at all but they are opportunities to stop identifying oneself with only one character trait. In fact, a truly integrated personality encompasses many character traits. But if I am committed to being only one kind of person and miss out on other aspects of myself, I end up revisiting these disowned parts of myself in others. Why the universe works this way, I have no idea, but it's something like: the person who bothers or annoys me is really inviting me to consider parts of myself that I don't really admire. If I can accept those aspects existing deep within myself that I dislike, then I can accept such qualities in others as well.
Sunday, November 18, 2018
The Shock of Vulnerability
When people are suddenly removed from the comfort zone of familiarity, they may be shocked to realize that all people are much more than their roles combined. A good example has occurred to me recently, when I have asked a server at a restaurant or in a retail store if they had something in stock, only to be met with bewilderment verging on laughter. I had to stop myself to ask, am I saying it the wrong way? Going to a Circuit City and asking for a power cord for a laptop suddenly becomes a cause for bewilderment. Power cord? the server asks me, Well, we have a charger. Is that what you mean? A second chance to clarify my question leads to a gentle smile and shaking of the head. I feel alienated by these encounters.
When a question that seems initially reasonable to ask is met with bewilderment, there is a thwarting of an expectation. I expect the server to be knowledgeable, but I also expect them to be somehow wanting to understand the customer. But in fact, these expectations are based on little more than past experience combined with a stereotypical idea of what it means for customer service to "serve". Whether this is changing or not in today's world is open to question, but I am beginning to realize nonetheless that people are more than the sum of their roles: people have distinct personalities, and no role can stifle those personalities. To expect that anyone in any capacity "should" behave as per a standard is asking for too much at times, and it is a pause for me to wonder: when I am interacting with people, do I expect too much from them? Somehow in an interesting way what I expect and desire is acceptance and love, even from the stranger!
The shock of vulnerability? Well, I think it's the shock of realizing that who I thought I understood by virtue of the role they are playing in the social world isn't at all what I expected, and I am left with the sense of having embarrassed myself in front of someone I would not have normally been so "courageous" to approach in the first place. And it's the sting of realizing that in daily life, one simply cannot with any accuracy predict how one will be accepted by others, or whether they will be accepted at all. But this vulnerability is also very precious, if one opens up to the vulnerability as a thing in itself rather than trying to "solve" it. To be vulnerable is to be open to the infinity of myself and others, which cannot be reduced to a role, an expectation or a desire. If one is just open to being vulnerable without interpreting that vulnerability in a negative way (eg. as embarrassment for not "doing the right thing" or "asking the right question", "approaching the right person" etc), then the vulnerability becomes a flash of insight or even awakening. But let's face it: it feels more like a burst of cold shower water on a winter's morning.
When a question that seems initially reasonable to ask is met with bewilderment, there is a thwarting of an expectation. I expect the server to be knowledgeable, but I also expect them to be somehow wanting to understand the customer. But in fact, these expectations are based on little more than past experience combined with a stereotypical idea of what it means for customer service to "serve". Whether this is changing or not in today's world is open to question, but I am beginning to realize nonetheless that people are more than the sum of their roles: people have distinct personalities, and no role can stifle those personalities. To expect that anyone in any capacity "should" behave as per a standard is asking for too much at times, and it is a pause for me to wonder: when I am interacting with people, do I expect too much from them? Somehow in an interesting way what I expect and desire is acceptance and love, even from the stranger!
The shock of vulnerability? Well, I think it's the shock of realizing that who I thought I understood by virtue of the role they are playing in the social world isn't at all what I expected, and I am left with the sense of having embarrassed myself in front of someone I would not have normally been so "courageous" to approach in the first place. And it's the sting of realizing that in daily life, one simply cannot with any accuracy predict how one will be accepted by others, or whether they will be accepted at all. But this vulnerability is also very precious, if one opens up to the vulnerability as a thing in itself rather than trying to "solve" it. To be vulnerable is to be open to the infinity of myself and others, which cannot be reduced to a role, an expectation or a desire. If one is just open to being vulnerable without interpreting that vulnerability in a negative way (eg. as embarrassment for not "doing the right thing" or "asking the right question", "approaching the right person" etc), then the vulnerability becomes a flash of insight or even awakening. But let's face it: it feels more like a burst of cold shower water on a winter's morning.
Saturday, November 17, 2018
Book Attachments
Attachment is such a pervasive thing, and it's important to be honest in one's attachments. I have discovered, for example, that whenever I am in a library, I experience the kind of anxiety that besets many a book lover, namely the fear of not being able to finish all the books in the library! It's interesting to reflect on why this fear even comes up in a person's life, but I suspect that for me, it has to do with the complicated relationship I have developed over the years to book and reading.
Books for me, as far as I can remember, have represented the window into other people and other beings' lives. I believe that reading is one of the most crucial forms of socialization because they can induct a person into the level of critical reflection required to "read" the world and to question it at its foundations. There is a double edged sword here, of course, and that is that too much reading can sometimes lead a person to stop trusting their own thoughts, ideas, or even their own awareness. The words of someone else can quite easily substitute for a more direct personal insight into the ways of things. Sometimes a very neat and compelling theory found in a book can obscure the process of seeing by preventing a person from being able to frame their experiences in multiple ways. Rather than being an exhortation to reject books per see, perhaps this is more of an invitation to move into spaces that are not bounded by words.
A classic example might be the case of everyday paradox. I often come across situations where I am trying to make decisions about what to do or how to resolve an issue, only to find myself split "right in the middle" and not really able to move forward at all. Searching through books, one might find a model that most comfortably moves a person in the direction of one way or the other. More often, however, these frameworks only serve to repress certain sides of a story in order to advance another side. What would it be like to simply stand in the middle and to fully engage the tension? Here, I am reflecting that the greatest anxiety for people in this middle is twofold. First, such a paradoxical ambivalence is rarely spoken in clear words. Second, ambivalence threatens the self with a sense of uncertainty that can seem painfully annihilating. But again, such times of uncertainty are actually veiled invitations to go deeper and further into a non-self state, where there are no clear boundaries between one person and another, and yet the other cannot be "absorbed" into the self or its knowledge.
Books for me, as far as I can remember, have represented the window into other people and other beings' lives. I believe that reading is one of the most crucial forms of socialization because they can induct a person into the level of critical reflection required to "read" the world and to question it at its foundations. There is a double edged sword here, of course, and that is that too much reading can sometimes lead a person to stop trusting their own thoughts, ideas, or even their own awareness. The words of someone else can quite easily substitute for a more direct personal insight into the ways of things. Sometimes a very neat and compelling theory found in a book can obscure the process of seeing by preventing a person from being able to frame their experiences in multiple ways. Rather than being an exhortation to reject books per see, perhaps this is more of an invitation to move into spaces that are not bounded by words.
A classic example might be the case of everyday paradox. I often come across situations where I am trying to make decisions about what to do or how to resolve an issue, only to find myself split "right in the middle" and not really able to move forward at all. Searching through books, one might find a model that most comfortably moves a person in the direction of one way or the other. More often, however, these frameworks only serve to repress certain sides of a story in order to advance another side. What would it be like to simply stand in the middle and to fully engage the tension? Here, I am reflecting that the greatest anxiety for people in this middle is twofold. First, such a paradoxical ambivalence is rarely spoken in clear words. Second, ambivalence threatens the self with a sense of uncertainty that can seem painfully annihilating. But again, such times of uncertainty are actually veiled invitations to go deeper and further into a non-self state, where there are no clear boundaries between one person and another, and yet the other cannot be "absorbed" into the self or its knowledge.
Friday, November 16, 2018
Religion : Conversion or Transformation?
The movie Boy Erased is a very compelling commentary on how spiritual movements can serve as "conversion therapy", in this case for LGBQT youths who are often coming from Christian denominational backgrounds. I am reflecting on, what is the difference between religion as a form of inner transformation and one that merely converts a person into an ideal social category?
This question, I must admit, is a bit loaded. I am sure that in most cases, being part of a spiritual organization is not simply a matter of adopting the same perspectives on life and the purpose of human beings. There is always an element of belonging, and part of what makes religion a compelling form of community is that it is more regulated than other communities. People are not just "doing their own thing" but they are compelled to behave in more or less similar ways, such as learning to love one another, practice tolerance, and follow principles set out in spiritual texts. Religious organizations are especially appealing to young people who are at a stage where they are just establishing partners and relationships with others, at which time the road tends to be a bit rocky and unpredictable. Spiritual groups at least provide a sense of an extended family who can be trusted to behave in ways that are open and respectful, even when people don't necessarily "feel like" being open on a given day at a congregation. In fact, one of the most compelling aspects of any religious practice is its transpersonal elements: the ability to lift a person out of themselves and to something greater than the self.
That having been said, is there a way to distinguish between religion as a genuine transpersonal experience and one of merely "social control" and conformity? I think the answer to this question can only really come from the individual and their motivation to practice or attend a religious community. If a person is becoming religious as a way of restoring some sense of order and protecting oneself against difference and otherness, then it often becomes an exercise in controlling the self and others to behave in the same ways. On the other hand, if befriending the stranger and the other is a crucial aspect of one's spirit life (which I feel it is), then the orientation shifts toward befriending elements of ourselves that might not be accepted or even fully understood by the communities we are a part of.
Perhaps the questions one needs to continually engage throughout their spiritual life is, am I doing this only to "look" "normal" to others, or am I in this community because I am genuinely learning and benefiting from the specific practices it espouses? Many people who are socialized in religious communities from an early age may never get the chance to discover what parts of their spirituality actually helps in their encounters with others, since there is not much to compare if one has always been in one community. However, it's important even for those individuals to find some clarity in why they are practicing and whether those practices work to enhance their lives and relationships.
This question, I must admit, is a bit loaded. I am sure that in most cases, being part of a spiritual organization is not simply a matter of adopting the same perspectives on life and the purpose of human beings. There is always an element of belonging, and part of what makes religion a compelling form of community is that it is more regulated than other communities. People are not just "doing their own thing" but they are compelled to behave in more or less similar ways, such as learning to love one another, practice tolerance, and follow principles set out in spiritual texts. Religious organizations are especially appealing to young people who are at a stage where they are just establishing partners and relationships with others, at which time the road tends to be a bit rocky and unpredictable. Spiritual groups at least provide a sense of an extended family who can be trusted to behave in ways that are open and respectful, even when people don't necessarily "feel like" being open on a given day at a congregation. In fact, one of the most compelling aspects of any religious practice is its transpersonal elements: the ability to lift a person out of themselves and to something greater than the self.
That having been said, is there a way to distinguish between religion as a genuine transpersonal experience and one of merely "social control" and conformity? I think the answer to this question can only really come from the individual and their motivation to practice or attend a religious community. If a person is becoming religious as a way of restoring some sense of order and protecting oneself against difference and otherness, then it often becomes an exercise in controlling the self and others to behave in the same ways. On the other hand, if befriending the stranger and the other is a crucial aspect of one's spirit life (which I feel it is), then the orientation shifts toward befriending elements of ourselves that might not be accepted or even fully understood by the communities we are a part of.
Perhaps the questions one needs to continually engage throughout their spiritual life is, am I doing this only to "look" "normal" to others, or am I in this community because I am genuinely learning and benefiting from the specific practices it espouses? Many people who are socialized in religious communities from an early age may never get the chance to discover what parts of their spirituality actually helps in their encounters with others, since there is not much to compare if one has always been in one community. However, it's important even for those individuals to find some clarity in why they are practicing and whether those practices work to enhance their lives and relationships.
Wednesday, November 14, 2018
Navigating Impossibility
There are often situations in life in which something seems utterly untenable and impossible. I have found that in situations like this, when I have truly done everything I could to facilitate the situation, the only thing I could really do is to wait and observe the conditions unfolding. In my workplace today, for example, I was tasked with assignments that seemed utterly beyond my ability or comprehension, simply because I lack the context to know the particular department that the business testing was related to. Throughout my daily walk lunch period, I felt a sense of frustration, not knowing how to resolve my lack of knowledge, aside from asking a lot of questions that could end up bothering my co-workers. When I came back from work, I received an email from a supervisor which laid out a more structured set of questions and test scenarios that I could follow. In this way, something that started out as "impossible" eventually shaped into something that is more doable and tenable.
This perhaps goes to show me many things. The first is that, in the spirit of Chan, we can say that many of our problems are purely created. They are not real problems, as long as I don't hold myself to the idea that something has to be "resolved" in order for things to go smoothly. Sometimes simply sitting with the situation for a while will furnish new possibilities, such as an unexpected form of structured help that might come from a person having more experience. It might also take the form of realizing that this task wasn't entirely "mine" to begin with but was rather the task of many people with different skill levels and sets. Finally, the idea comes to mind that sitting with the unknown and with some degree of ambivalence and anxiety can allow for an eventual embrace of paradox, which takes the form of the meeting of opposites and conflicts, often taking place through a slow process of accommodation.
This perhaps goes to show me many things. The first is that, in the spirit of Chan, we can say that many of our problems are purely created. They are not real problems, as long as I don't hold myself to the idea that something has to be "resolved" in order for things to go smoothly. Sometimes simply sitting with the situation for a while will furnish new possibilities, such as an unexpected form of structured help that might come from a person having more experience. It might also take the form of realizing that this task wasn't entirely "mine" to begin with but was rather the task of many people with different skill levels and sets. Finally, the idea comes to mind that sitting with the unknown and with some degree of ambivalence and anxiety can allow for an eventual embrace of paradox, which takes the form of the meeting of opposites and conflicts, often taking place through a slow process of accommodation.
Tuesday, November 13, 2018
Ending Greed Within
In Tea Words Volume II, Master Sheng Yen explores the ways in which what appear to be "external" problems that are "out there" are actually manifestations of internal states of being. Whenever people fight to save the planet, for example, they must ask the question, do the problems in life come from "outside", in some external condition, or do they really come from deep within? I have found in my own life, it's greed for some kind of mental or physical comfort that often causes a lot of mental problems and hardships.
Master Sheng Yen remarks:
...we must each try to have less greed, hatred, ignorance, arrogance, and doubt in our minds. This will naturally lead the world in a better direction. It will become a purer, healthier, and safer place in which to live. How do we achieve this goal? We must depend on the teachings, concepts, and methods of practice of Buddhadharma. Only with these can we reach the goal of purity of mind. Only when the mind is pure can the external environment become pure. Only when you attain purity of mind can you see the purity of the external world. Without this inner peace and purity, the world will always be troubled by problems (p.24)
When we look at this paragraph, we might reflect, how do internal states of being relate to the state of the world? One obvious way is that through wanting many things, people contribute to overproduction and consumption. It's only when I am consuming "just enough" and have the attitude that "enough is enough" that I allow life to naturally take its course without trying to accumulate too much.
Another point is that when a person is less greedy for things, they are more available for others, which can lessen loneliness in the world. A person with two empty hands has much more to give than one with two full, clenched fists. When I am too absorbed in holding onto something, even an ideal or a dream, I end up losing the gift of the present moment. I am also unable to provide the greatest gift that I can offer anyone, namely, my undivided attention and presence.
Sheng Yen (2013) Tea Words Volume II. Elmhurst NY: Dharma Drum Publications
Master Sheng Yen remarks:
...we must each try to have less greed, hatred, ignorance, arrogance, and doubt in our minds. This will naturally lead the world in a better direction. It will become a purer, healthier, and safer place in which to live. How do we achieve this goal? We must depend on the teachings, concepts, and methods of practice of Buddhadharma. Only with these can we reach the goal of purity of mind. Only when the mind is pure can the external environment become pure. Only when you attain purity of mind can you see the purity of the external world. Without this inner peace and purity, the world will always be troubled by problems (p.24)
When we look at this paragraph, we might reflect, how do internal states of being relate to the state of the world? One obvious way is that through wanting many things, people contribute to overproduction and consumption. It's only when I am consuming "just enough" and have the attitude that "enough is enough" that I allow life to naturally take its course without trying to accumulate too much.
Another point is that when a person is less greedy for things, they are more available for others, which can lessen loneliness in the world. A person with two empty hands has much more to give than one with two full, clenched fists. When I am too absorbed in holding onto something, even an ideal or a dream, I end up losing the gift of the present moment. I am also unable to provide the greatest gift that I can offer anyone, namely, my undivided attention and presence.
Sheng Yen (2013) Tea Words Volume II. Elmhurst NY: Dharma Drum Publications
Monday, November 12, 2018
Eyes that See
I am reflecting on how eyes are often neglected parts of the body. There is an expression which reads, "The eyes are windows into a person's soul", and yet, many spiritual traditions see the eyes as something a little bit uncontrollable. In Surangama Sutra, there is even mention of an eye faculty and consciousness which can delude the mind, even controlling a person's behavior by focusing only on what is desirable. We sometimes hear the expression in English, "She or he only sees what they want to see",and this is indicative of a person whose eyes have got the better of their own judgement and discernment. Seeing all the possible "defective" things that can happen when a person focuses on seeing, is there any validity to the idea that eyes can reflect deeper parts of each others' psyche? Can our physical eyes tell us something about our mental being?
I don't have an answer to this question, but I do suspect that eyes can play a big part in how a person relates to others. When someone around me fails to "look me in the eye", I will tend to think that either the connection with that person is not strong enough, or they are hiding something from me on purpose, or perhaps a bit of both. The point is, eyes are ways to establish authenticity in connection. Even if I don't fully trust my senses anymore and have become cynical to the possibility of establishing validity through sense data alone, eyes can communicate a depth of understanding that two people might share. Of course, one can never really tell if someone else has fully understood us, but perhaps the point is more about the intention that eye contact communicates, and how true eye contact establishes a respect between people that is "I Thou" rather than "I It", to paraphrase Martin Buber.
I don't have an answer to this question, but I do suspect that eyes can play a big part in how a person relates to others. When someone around me fails to "look me in the eye", I will tend to think that either the connection with that person is not strong enough, or they are hiding something from me on purpose, or perhaps a bit of both. The point is, eyes are ways to establish authenticity in connection. Even if I don't fully trust my senses anymore and have become cynical to the possibility of establishing validity through sense data alone, eyes can communicate a depth of understanding that two people might share. Of course, one can never really tell if someone else has fully understood us, but perhaps the point is more about the intention that eye contact communicates, and how true eye contact establishes a respect between people that is "I Thou" rather than "I It", to paraphrase Martin Buber.
Sunday, November 11, 2018
Navigating Polarities
Whenever there is a strong attachment or desire, there tends to be a polarity. I am convinced that language creates desire through strong polarities. During our Buddhist discussion group on Friday, we talked about the idea of how rhetoric tends to divide people into neat categories: either you are "with me" or "against me"; fight for "the people" as opposed to "those in power", and so on. These kinds of rhetoric reflect an us vs. them mentality, which can reinforce desires and suffering. Part of the process of looking into one's thoughts might consist of asking the question, "as opposed to what?" Are the stories we tell about what happens in life reinforcing absolutes? Or are these stories more about building bridges and befriending opposition?
Polarity tends to create suffering on the inside. Although I believe that the opposition is in someone else, more often than not the opposition exists within me. If I am bothered by someone else's behavior and impute all kinds of reasons for their doing things, chances are that at one time or another I behaved in the same way. I am just having my chance to see my own behavior reflected in someone else. This is a bit of a hard teaching, but if I can relate to what I dislike in someone else to my own behavior, are there better reasons for looking at it? To give an example: someone jumps in front of me to catch the bus. I might feel irritated, thinking that the person is doing it on purpose to annoy me, but let's say that person were me. Are there other reasons for why they are behaving that way? Maybe that person is in a rush, or is just not being aware of the people around them because they are preoccupied, or are simply not in the mood to stand on the bus. If I think in this way, are these people any different from me? Deep down inside, they, like myself are striving to avoid suffering and be happy. Even when they may be behaving in a way that compromise the well being of others, maybe there are reasons for that as well. For example, they may have been let down by others in the past, so their mentality becomes about taking care of their own needs and not taking care of others'. But even then, this way of referring to the situation tends to polarize people. How do I know that they don't have loved ones that they cherish at home, school and work? So again, it's important to take a close look at the stories I construct around peoples' behavior.
It's also important--or so I have found anyway--never to fall for the illusion that people do things "on purpose". There is no such thing as "on purpose". For example, a person might seem to have perfectly well formed, deliberated reasons for doing something, but these reasons are also based on conditions. People don't entirely act from reason alone: there are preconditioned desires operating there. A good example is seeing something fancy that I want to buy. I might rationalize that because this thing is on sale for "half price", I am getting a good deal and "saving money" by buying it. However, I am not realizing in that moment that I am still spending money by buying the thing. The fact that it is half price gives me the illusion that I am "saving money" by buying it. Here is an example of where one's reasons are really based on feelings. I feel as if something is benefiting me, but in fact it is only satisfying a feeling I have. But what controls that sense? Previous conditions have already been created which make the decision seem sensible to me.
When we desire something, quite often we are under the illusion that there is something wonderful "over there" that we don't own in ourselves. We don't recognize that desires are in fact fleeting, and often lead to dissatisfaction even when we try to acquire them. Sometimes if a person is really aware of it, they will feel the pain of not having something that they want, and this can turn them away from that desire altogether. They will find that in fact the desire is so painful that its future satisfaction does not compensate for the pain of the present.
Polarity tends to create suffering on the inside. Although I believe that the opposition is in someone else, more often than not the opposition exists within me. If I am bothered by someone else's behavior and impute all kinds of reasons for their doing things, chances are that at one time or another I behaved in the same way. I am just having my chance to see my own behavior reflected in someone else. This is a bit of a hard teaching, but if I can relate to what I dislike in someone else to my own behavior, are there better reasons for looking at it? To give an example: someone jumps in front of me to catch the bus. I might feel irritated, thinking that the person is doing it on purpose to annoy me, but let's say that person were me. Are there other reasons for why they are behaving that way? Maybe that person is in a rush, or is just not being aware of the people around them because they are preoccupied, or are simply not in the mood to stand on the bus. If I think in this way, are these people any different from me? Deep down inside, they, like myself are striving to avoid suffering and be happy. Even when they may be behaving in a way that compromise the well being of others, maybe there are reasons for that as well. For example, they may have been let down by others in the past, so their mentality becomes about taking care of their own needs and not taking care of others'. But even then, this way of referring to the situation tends to polarize people. How do I know that they don't have loved ones that they cherish at home, school and work? So again, it's important to take a close look at the stories I construct around peoples' behavior.
It's also important--or so I have found anyway--never to fall for the illusion that people do things "on purpose". There is no such thing as "on purpose". For example, a person might seem to have perfectly well formed, deliberated reasons for doing something, but these reasons are also based on conditions. People don't entirely act from reason alone: there are preconditioned desires operating there. A good example is seeing something fancy that I want to buy. I might rationalize that because this thing is on sale for "half price", I am getting a good deal and "saving money" by buying it. However, I am not realizing in that moment that I am still spending money by buying the thing. The fact that it is half price gives me the illusion that I am "saving money" by buying it. Here is an example of where one's reasons are really based on feelings. I feel as if something is benefiting me, but in fact it is only satisfying a feeling I have. But what controls that sense? Previous conditions have already been created which make the decision seem sensible to me.
When we desire something, quite often we are under the illusion that there is something wonderful "over there" that we don't own in ourselves. We don't recognize that desires are in fact fleeting, and often lead to dissatisfaction even when we try to acquire them. Sometimes if a person is really aware of it, they will feel the pain of not having something that they want, and this can turn them away from that desire altogether. They will find that in fact the desire is so painful that its future satisfaction does not compensate for the pain of the present.
Saturday, November 10, 2018
Curiosity
One of the hallmarks of a good movie (or book, or anything, for that matter) is that it stimulates an interest to learn more about the subject matter. Watching the movie Bohemian Rhapsody, I am compelled to learn more about Freddy Mercury, particularly as the movie portrays a very compelling story about a man who faced a lot of discrimination in his rise to fame. Sometimes curiosity (as in this case) is a very natural occurrence: it is part of the art form itself that makes a person want to learn more about how the person lived, what they thought and what made their life meaningful in spite of the sufferings they underwent.
Curiosity is also something that is cultivated in meditation practice, albeit in a different form. While I was participating in the one day meditation retreat today, I practiced intentional curiosity for the huatou method: that is, I generated a kind of curiosity for the method, even during times when I was not feeling so interested in answering the question (or was even confused about it). Intentional curiosity differs from the kind of curiosity that is a kind of response to an art form or an entertainment. Whereas the latter case is a kind of visceral response to a planned event created by a writer or an artist who is setting out to engage the audience, the former case does not involve any set up. It comes from a kind of choice: I am going to be present with this question, regardless of how I feel or react, and it's the presence itself that gives rise to an "answer". This choice involves great faith, but it's not about having faith in an external being. More so, it can be likened to a kind of deliberate attentiveness that knows there is an answer, but just doesn't quite know what or where it will be. Such a frame of mind is sharp and very clear, as well as engaged in the present, because it is not operating from a pre-made assumption about what things are supposed to be.
This kind of curiosity can be extended to a great many things, including daily life. And it's a reminder that it's not a "thing" that is curious but a state of mind.
Curiosity is also something that is cultivated in meditation practice, albeit in a different form. While I was participating in the one day meditation retreat today, I practiced intentional curiosity for the huatou method: that is, I generated a kind of curiosity for the method, even during times when I was not feeling so interested in answering the question (or was even confused about it). Intentional curiosity differs from the kind of curiosity that is a kind of response to an art form or an entertainment. Whereas the latter case is a kind of visceral response to a planned event created by a writer or an artist who is setting out to engage the audience, the former case does not involve any set up. It comes from a kind of choice: I am going to be present with this question, regardless of how I feel or react, and it's the presence itself that gives rise to an "answer". This choice involves great faith, but it's not about having faith in an external being. More so, it can be likened to a kind of deliberate attentiveness that knows there is an answer, but just doesn't quite know what or where it will be. Such a frame of mind is sharp and very clear, as well as engaged in the present, because it is not operating from a pre-made assumption about what things are supposed to be.
This kind of curiosity can be extended to a great many things, including daily life. And it's a reminder that it's not a "thing" that is curious but a state of mind.
Friday, November 9, 2018
Facing the Shadows
During the book discussion group today, a comment emerged about how certain politicians in our time could benefit from Buddhist practices, particularly around Silent Illumination (which I will abbreviate as SI). I have written about this practice before (based on the little that I truly know and experience), but the essence of SI Chan is that one is both silent in mind (calm) and illuminating the world around us (illuminating) to the point where one experiences immersion in phenomena with a clarity of awareness---almost like a camera taking a photograph. This is a little bit oversimplified to say the least, but a person in power would likely be doing a service to other beings if she or he practiced clarity of awareness that is not focused on the self or reputation. This does not necessarily mean that a person have no feelings or be completely numb to their personal needs or reactions to things. Rather, the attitude becomes to see those things with a clarity that does not get attached to reactions or want to do something about them. It is also not operating from self reference, but considers the gain of the whole, not a single person or a party.
I do think that it's important to, however, to get an insight into why people don't practice such illumination. Why? It's because knowing how the shadow works helps us to be more reconciled to others when they don't practice clarity of mind. If I never experience moments of sorrow, pain, frustration, set-backs, or even times when selfish inclinations might arise in me, will I be able to understand the other person who does have these inclinations? Possibly yes, but likely not at all, because I lack the context to realize those inclinations in myself. The fact is that sometimes what I think is "someone else's problem" is really my own inner projection. What I am seeing is not another person's problem at all but rather my inability to reconcile with aspects of myself that I find difficult or simply don't like at all. Knowing how I can give into the same things that others give into can allow me to feel more compassion for people, particularly knowing that people aren't choosing these states of being at all. Rather, they simply haven't found a teacher who speaks to them and can relieve them of the stresses that overwhelm them.
To truly illuminate is not to say, "that belongs to them; this belongs to me". It is rather to be fully reconciled in mind and heart to the way people are, and not to feel that anything that is happening to people is caused deliberately by themselves. It is also to embrace moments when people have not quite found the way out of their suffering--to see that this very suffering mind is not flawed but is truly a profound mind that hasn't quite realized its greatness yet.
I do think that it's important to, however, to get an insight into why people don't practice such illumination. Why? It's because knowing how the shadow works helps us to be more reconciled to others when they don't practice clarity of mind. If I never experience moments of sorrow, pain, frustration, set-backs, or even times when selfish inclinations might arise in me, will I be able to understand the other person who does have these inclinations? Possibly yes, but likely not at all, because I lack the context to realize those inclinations in myself. The fact is that sometimes what I think is "someone else's problem" is really my own inner projection. What I am seeing is not another person's problem at all but rather my inability to reconcile with aspects of myself that I find difficult or simply don't like at all. Knowing how I can give into the same things that others give into can allow me to feel more compassion for people, particularly knowing that people aren't choosing these states of being at all. Rather, they simply haven't found a teacher who speaks to them and can relieve them of the stresses that overwhelm them.
To truly illuminate is not to say, "that belongs to them; this belongs to me". It is rather to be fully reconciled in mind and heart to the way people are, and not to feel that anything that is happening to people is caused deliberately by themselves. It is also to embrace moments when people have not quite found the way out of their suffering--to see that this very suffering mind is not flawed but is truly a profound mind that hasn't quite realized its greatness yet.
Thursday, November 8, 2018
Course Trajectories
As I am nearing the end of another education course, I am revisiting the notion of "the spirituality of taking courses". After all, what is a "course", if not a journey of sorts? Originally, the term referred to a path, as when we refer to a race as having a particular course, or a river having a course. Nearing the end of a "course" is a relief (of course, pardon the pun), but it also makes me wonder: are there ways of looking at these "course" thingies that is not necessarily related to completing a credit?
The two things that come to my mind when it comes to completing educational credits is that the process has a lot to say about community building on the one hand, and perseverance on the other. Even in an online course, a sense of community is being constructed, particularly through fostering an atmosphere of mutual respect and actively participating in replying to other people's threads. A sense of shared meaning arises from this practice, and I have to say that one satisfying aspect of these courses is the way all voices are given equal validity and hearing. This sadly does not have a similar dynamic in the world of Facebook and chat rooms. In fact, all too often, I have witnessed the breakdown of civility and deep listening in many online forum situations, to the point where I wonder if people do need to take more structured courses online to restore their sense of civility!
The second aspect that is interesting about taking courses is that they do involve maintaining consistency and perseverance. I have to admit that this week, I simply felt exhausted when responding to the week's postings. Over time, the body and mind simply cannot sustain endless deadlines to submit postings, and eventually people revolt, whether it's through physical illness (many in the course having colds at the moment) or mental resistance (procrastination and so on). But persevering in such situations requires a dedication to the idea of what the course means spiritually.
I think that taking a course such as this has reinforced for me the value of a liberal education in terms of building trusting communities of mutual care, practice and insights. This doesn't mean that I or anyone else has to agree with everything that is shared online. Rather, it's the process that counts far more than the answers or insights that happen to be generated in these situations. The process of crafting an idea, presenting it to a group of strangers, being open to feedback and comments, and opening oneself to constructive feedback of others' postings, is such a grounded example of what a democratic process might look like, among people who genuinely respect one another and want to mutually create a good learning environment for everyone. For me, this is the true holistic, spiritual "guts" of taking courses. I believe that the ability to have a voice, to be counted for what I express, and to articulate what I learn from readings, is such a blessing. It's a model upon which I can base all of my relations with others.
The two things that come to my mind when it comes to completing educational credits is that the process has a lot to say about community building on the one hand, and perseverance on the other. Even in an online course, a sense of community is being constructed, particularly through fostering an atmosphere of mutual respect and actively participating in replying to other people's threads. A sense of shared meaning arises from this practice, and I have to say that one satisfying aspect of these courses is the way all voices are given equal validity and hearing. This sadly does not have a similar dynamic in the world of Facebook and chat rooms. In fact, all too often, I have witnessed the breakdown of civility and deep listening in many online forum situations, to the point where I wonder if people do need to take more structured courses online to restore their sense of civility!
The second aspect that is interesting about taking courses is that they do involve maintaining consistency and perseverance. I have to admit that this week, I simply felt exhausted when responding to the week's postings. Over time, the body and mind simply cannot sustain endless deadlines to submit postings, and eventually people revolt, whether it's through physical illness (many in the course having colds at the moment) or mental resistance (procrastination and so on). But persevering in such situations requires a dedication to the idea of what the course means spiritually.
I think that taking a course such as this has reinforced for me the value of a liberal education in terms of building trusting communities of mutual care, practice and insights. This doesn't mean that I or anyone else has to agree with everything that is shared online. Rather, it's the process that counts far more than the answers or insights that happen to be generated in these situations. The process of crafting an idea, presenting it to a group of strangers, being open to feedback and comments, and opening oneself to constructive feedback of others' postings, is such a grounded example of what a democratic process might look like, among people who genuinely respect one another and want to mutually create a good learning environment for everyone. For me, this is the true holistic, spiritual "guts" of taking courses. I believe that the ability to have a voice, to be counted for what I express, and to articulate what I learn from readings, is such a blessing. It's a model upon which I can base all of my relations with others.
Monday, November 5, 2018
The Search for Reasons
Can a person ever really find an answer to "why" things happen as they do? I thought about this over the lunch hour today, and my conclusion is a resounding no. Even if someone with magical powers gave me some explanation as to why things turned out the way they did (perhaps due to a previous life), I would still need to trust that person on faith unless I had some direct access to the information this person was providing. But even in the event that what this person was saying were true, what value does knowing the why have, unless it has some impact on how I behave or what future decision I make? I begin to realize that there are limitations to the explanation of "why" which have to be borne in mind.
Of course, sometimes it is necessary to seek closure on certain things, and people certainly have a reason to look for explanations as to why they lost something, why an accident happened and who or what is responsible, etc. But the point is that none of these questions ever really quite answers the question of "why did this happen to me?" There may not be any ultimate answer to this question other than to know that it did and that there are always ways of looking at it in retrospect, similar to how a flower blooms. We never know what it is really going to look like until, when it is finally flowered, we can see in retrospect how its seeds contained the potentials for its current state. Rather than looking for answers to explain the future, I personally prefer to use the future to make sense of the past.
Of course, sometimes it is necessary to seek closure on certain things, and people certainly have a reason to look for explanations as to why they lost something, why an accident happened and who or what is responsible, etc. But the point is that none of these questions ever really quite answers the question of "why did this happen to me?" There may not be any ultimate answer to this question other than to know that it did and that there are always ways of looking at it in retrospect, similar to how a flower blooms. We never know what it is really going to look like until, when it is finally flowered, we can see in retrospect how its seeds contained the potentials for its current state. Rather than looking for answers to explain the future, I personally prefer to use the future to make sense of the past.
Sunday, November 4, 2018
Seeing Forests
I have been reflecting on the meaning
and value of work from a Chan perspective, particularly looking at the way work
sometimes puts a person in a position of seeing the “trees” instead of the “forest”.
If a person is burying themselves in one single thing, do they not sometimes
lose sight of the whole purpose of what they are doing? This sometimes does happen
when a person is doing repetitive work or is engaged in assembling one
particular part over a long stretch of time. In these cases, it can at times be
hard to know when one is too involved in particularities and might be losing
sight of the totality.
Master Sheng Yen uses one example,
which is the rallying of people together on Earth day. He remarks
I gave a talk in Boston three years ago which happened to coincide with
Earth Day. The Earth Day organizers and participants passed out a great number
of posters and fliers filled with advice on how to save the environment. All
that paper wound up creating a huge mound of garbage. Were these people part of
the solution or were they part of the problem? Again, a couple of years ago,
there were two opposing demonstrations in Central Park. One group was pro
nuclear power the other anti. Which group was right? Whatever the answer, at
least in that situation, it seemed both groups contributed more to the
disharmony of the environment than to any real solution (p.23)
Now what happened in this example? Two things seemed to
happen. Firstly, the way in which the Earth Day organizers and participants
disseminated their purpose lost sight of the bigger purpose which has nothing
to do with the local communications. In fact, in the process of communicating
and sending their message out, the organizers ended up undermining their own
cause through the medium of posters and fliers, which was creating waste (not to
mention wasting trees!). The second problem is that, in the case of the anti-nuclear
protesters, the actual message of peace is lost in the ways they engaged in
conflict. Rather than seeking to harmonize with the other protesters, they simply
created more disharmony, thus contributing to the message that conflict is the
only way to resolve difficulties.
This again is like seeing the trees (working
hard on communicating a heartfelt cause) without seeing the forest (the total
picture of what they are doing and why).
Master Sheng Yen suggests that in order to operate from a
totality rather than looking only at part of a problem, it’s necessary to
cultivate an inner space where one is clear about their intentions, rather than
contributing more to a given problem. He writes, “Buddhadharma counsels each of
us to maintain purity of mind and heart. In other words, we must each try to
have less greed, hatred, ignorance, arrogance, and doubt in our minds. This
will naturally lead the world in a better direction. It will become a purer,
healthier, and safer place in which to live.” (p.24). In this way, the inner
cultivation is necessary to seeing totality, as well as avoiding the mistake of
getting attached to one particular way of solving a problem and not seeing its
consequences.
SeSheng Yen (2013). Tea
Words Volume II. Elmhurst NY: Dharma Drum Publications
Saturday, November 3, 2018
Work and Vexation Continued
Master Sheng Yen continues to clarify the idea of working diligently without vexations in Tea Words Volume II, when he reflects the following vignette:
Two people I know who occupy very high cabinet posts in the government in Taiwan have two very different attitudes towards their positions. One is quite concerned about his career, in constant fear that he will lose his post. He also worries that even if he keeps his position, there will be nowhere for him to advance. This attitude causes him to be tense and nervous and consequently, apt to falter. As a result, he is often criticized and attacked. The other person, whose position is equally high, has a completely different view. He says, “I only try to do my best. If the government thinks that I am doing well in this position, then I’ll continue to work here. If the government wishes me to step down, then I’ll gladly do it. I am concerned with what I do, not my position.” He happens to be a Buddhist practitioner and a student of mine. Here then are two people who share positions at the same high level, but whose perceptions of those positions are completely different (p.22)
I think the key difference here is that of the orientation toward work. If someone is simply too caught up in the winning or losing of status or position at work, then their attitude will be something like not being able to focus on work due to a tense or nervous attitude about losing one's position (for whatever reason). On the other hand, simply living unafraid of one's position, one will tend to perform the job more effectively, since their main priority is on performing the job well. I think this example shows very well the difference between being occupied with work for profit's sake and being absorbed in work for its own intrinsic value.
Sheng Yen (2013) Tea Words Volume II. Emlhurst, NY: Dharma Drum Publications
Two people I know who occupy very high cabinet posts in the government in Taiwan have two very different attitudes towards their positions. One is quite concerned about his career, in constant fear that he will lose his post. He also worries that even if he keeps his position, there will be nowhere for him to advance. This attitude causes him to be tense and nervous and consequently, apt to falter. As a result, he is often criticized and attacked. The other person, whose position is equally high, has a completely different view. He says, “I only try to do my best. If the government thinks that I am doing well in this position, then I’ll continue to work here. If the government wishes me to step down, then I’ll gladly do it. I am concerned with what I do, not my position.” He happens to be a Buddhist practitioner and a student of mine. Here then are two people who share positions at the same high level, but whose perceptions of those positions are completely different (p.22)
I think the key difference here is that of the orientation toward work. If someone is simply too caught up in the winning or losing of status or position at work, then their attitude will be something like not being able to focus on work due to a tense or nervous attitude about losing one's position (for whatever reason). On the other hand, simply living unafraid of one's position, one will tend to perform the job more effectively, since their main priority is on performing the job well. I think this example shows very well the difference between being occupied with work for profit's sake and being absorbed in work for its own intrinsic value.
Sheng Yen (2013) Tea Words Volume II. Emlhurst, NY: Dharma Drum Publications
Friday, November 2, 2018
Avoiding All or Nothing Thoughts
I have been reflecting today, after editing my final paper and finding a lot of flaws in the arguments, that sometimes I have a tendency to go into an all or nothing mode of thinking. Either things are "very hard" or "very easy", and there isn't any leeway in between. But actually, there is nearly always a middle ground. I am quite fond of an analogy that David Burns, the psychologist who wrote Feeling Good, wrote years ago, about the floor never being either totally dirty or totally clean. If it were totally dirty, would the floor not then be "totally" clean? Put it this way: would a floor covered in dirt from top to bottom not just be a ground of dirt? Isn't purity and impurity relative ? I believe so, but it requires a sense of detachment from the terms "pure", "impure", "good" and "bad".
Sometimes, I have noticed that when I am believing that I cannot perform something competently or correctly, that belief in itself will affect my performance tremendously. Why is that so? I think it has everything to do with the observer effect, or the way in which trying to "see" ourselves and evaluate how we are doing while or before we do it, sets up an artificial looker who fails to really involve itself in the process of doing.It is as though the witness were trying to step outside of the world of action and mediate, only to find that one's performance becomes gravely affected by that mediation. Having a softer view helps to mitigate all or nothing thinking, and allows people to see that the term "difficult" is just a concept. There is no such thing as an absolutely "hard"or "easy" task, and one can simply do it to the best of one's ability and see what the result will be.
Working life can also seem impossible or difficult when it is approached with attachment. Master Sheng Yen comments on a tendency to see work as "difficult" or "overwhelming" which contributes to one's capacity to engage that work wholeheartedly. Does the pace of life affect one's being? Master Sheng Yen remarks:
There is nothing wrong with being busy but if it makes you restless or unstable, you will be filled with vexations. Being busy simply means that you have many things to deal with, one after the other. If your mind is not concerned with getting or losing then there will be no vexation. When dealing with many things leads to restlessness, instability, and tension, then that is vexation (p.22)
The important aspect here, for me, is about the attitude of getting or losing. So far as a person's mind is set on the goal of the task and how it benefits others, one starts to let go of the fear of losing one's reputation if the task is not performed correctly. This changes the attitude away from self-consciousness and toward a more holistic way of doing that focuses on the benefits of the whole not just one person. Such a way of being might mitigate the idea that what I do constitutes a "gain" or a "loss" that is absolute and binding to who I am.
Sheng Yen (2013). Tea Words Volume II Elmhurst: Dharma Drum Publications
Sometimes, I have noticed that when I am believing that I cannot perform something competently or correctly, that belief in itself will affect my performance tremendously. Why is that so? I think it has everything to do with the observer effect, or the way in which trying to "see" ourselves and evaluate how we are doing while or before we do it, sets up an artificial looker who fails to really involve itself in the process of doing.It is as though the witness were trying to step outside of the world of action and mediate, only to find that one's performance becomes gravely affected by that mediation. Having a softer view helps to mitigate all or nothing thinking, and allows people to see that the term "difficult" is just a concept. There is no such thing as an absolutely "hard"or "easy" task, and one can simply do it to the best of one's ability and see what the result will be.
Working life can also seem impossible or difficult when it is approached with attachment. Master Sheng Yen comments on a tendency to see work as "difficult" or "overwhelming" which contributes to one's capacity to engage that work wholeheartedly. Does the pace of life affect one's being? Master Sheng Yen remarks:
There is nothing wrong with being busy but if it makes you restless or unstable, you will be filled with vexations. Being busy simply means that you have many things to deal with, one after the other. If your mind is not concerned with getting or losing then there will be no vexation. When dealing with many things leads to restlessness, instability, and tension, then that is vexation (p.22)
The important aspect here, for me, is about the attitude of getting or losing. So far as a person's mind is set on the goal of the task and how it benefits others, one starts to let go of the fear of losing one's reputation if the task is not performed correctly. This changes the attitude away from self-consciousness and toward a more holistic way of doing that focuses on the benefits of the whole not just one person. Such a way of being might mitigate the idea that what I do constitutes a "gain" or a "loss" that is absolute and binding to who I am.
Sheng Yen (2013). Tea Words Volume II Elmhurst: Dharma Drum Publications
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