The Terms of Investigation

 The more that I spend time thinking about it, the more I recognize that a lot of questions a person frames are presuming certain structures of thinking. Even when a question seems to be genuine and real, it's already based on constructed assumptions regarding what should or shouldn't be questioned at all. It's almost as if questions are only ways of filling the spaces where one has structured a pre-existing view of reality.
   When I ask a question, maybe one of the things I need to ask myself is: what does the question say about who I am and what I am most passionate about? I may have this question, but am I even so confident that others around me would even frame such a question, given that they also have their own conditioned way of framing their lives and experiences? I am trying to theorize about the act of questioning in a way that goes beyond conventionally seeing questions as 'revealing' an underlying reality. Instead, questions are ways of exposing what we already believe we know and what we believe needs to be filled in.
  Is there such a thing as a 'bad' question? Well, based on what I just mentioned, perhaps questions are neither good nor bad. They are always based on a situation where certain factors in a person's awareness or thinking come to the foreground which require elaboration or verification. But since our questions are determined by our ways of cutting up the world, questions are also 'constructions'. In other words, a question doesn't just happen because I have certain amounts of information and require a missing piece. Rather, they seem to arise from a creative act of wanting to extend my chosen vision of the world to something potentially unexplored.
  This might entail that the amount of questioning a person is capable of may be determined by how much they've been socialized to investigate the world in certain terms. If I haven't gotten used to the idea of thinking that there are 'insides' to something, for example, I may never get to question what something is made out of, much less have the curiosity to want to know. I am sure that deeper spiritual questions might also arise from the same shared meanings across different communities. For example, I never really thought of the question "is there life after death?" until I encountered people whose religion was pointing to this question in the form of stories or parables. Had I not run into them, I would perhaps have never framed this question, because it would never have occurred to me to think in this way.

Waiting Game

  Doing school work can sometimes seem like a waiting game-- only the waiting is about 'inspiration', and being able to put things together to form a unity and direction. It's safe to say that this waiting game does not only happen in educational settings, although education itself suggests a trajectory where there is some growth or maturation. The ups and downs of going to school might be compared with a kind of spiritual education in understanding the workings of causes and conditions. It's only when I go through the whole process that I can know that there are times to go forward and times to hold back. Unfortunately, it's often the case that in times of uncertainty, people are better at going forward, even when they could just as well hold back for a while.
   This process is naturally going to be depressing at times, but I think the key point is to endure some of the painful moments with equanimity. In order to do so, I have told myself recently two things: the first is, there is really nothing to lose in trying. When I sincerely know that I did my best to achieve a goal within the constraints that I have been given, there is no need or room for regret. It's only if I didn't make any effort at all that I would be left with the nagging regrets of 'could I have'/'should I have', and so on. The second principle I observe is to see the pain to the very end. If I am lifting the ball of iron and drop it mid-way in despair, then I can't really get to the realization that the pain is not going to harm me. So there are moments when, quite simply, I have to stop following my self-doubts and stay with the emotional pain that is in that moment.
    I would imagine that in most cases, what causes people to lose their balance is not a negative event, but rather an ambivalent one. It's when I am not sure that I am left in a state of painful choice: to go or to hold back, to continue or to stop, etc. And that anguish of simply not knowing precisely how to choose is such a tremendous source of pain. It's like not really knowing what's awaiting you at the end of the corridor, and having this wide range of actions before I get to the end. In those times, we can only wait a while for new information to guide us, rather than trying to invent information that simply doesn't exist. And at times, I do need to train myself to wait a little longer for clarity.

Being Fooled

 I have been reflecting recently on how 'non-attachment' to thinking in Buddhism might be mistakenly read as something like "don't trust anything you think, since it's probably wrong anyway." The extreme of this view might be something like what Descartes experienced before he formulated his philosophy of first principles. Descartes imagined a scary scenario in which there was an evil demon who kept fooling the mind into thinking that what it sees is real--only to present the mind with yet another delusion. I myself have recently been inclined to criticize myself when I thought something could be real, but was 'fooled later'. This happens when we commit to a certain plan of action such a school, only to realize later that it's much more complicated than we thought. And my mind then often goes back to the old childhood taunt of the trickster who reveals they had been fooling you all along! Notice how this deliberate trickster plays a prominent role in the inner mythology of emotions.
   Tricksters often play an equally important role in spiritual traditions, of which Buddhism is only one. People are often 'tricked' in Buddhist stories into doing or believing something as a skillful means. For example, in Lotus Sutra, it's thought that the Buddha tricks the early monastic orders into thinking that the arhat path is the 'final' goal, as a skillful means of bringing them to a more open space and mind to understand the 'ultimate truth'. In that sense, the Buddha is regarded not as an evil trickster, but as a benevolent being who works according to a being's capabilities. But in spite of that benevolence, there seems no doubt judging from the Lotus Sutra itself that the arhats would have been quite shaken up by this skilful means. Many in fact left the assembly where Buddha was teaching apparently because they could not handle what he was telling them. Again, there is an instinctive urge to resent being fooled, because 'being fooled' often represents the subversion of one's whole sense of reality and identity.
    Perhaps it's significant to work with the idea that, because nothing is truly foundational, there really isn't anything that is being taken away when we are 'fooled'. The moment when we feel that sting of 'loss' that accompanies knowing we've been fooled, we have this golden opportunity to let go of what we thought was fundamental to ourselves. However, in order to do this, one must also befriend the trickster and not impute any ill-will to them, since that trickster allowed us to wake up a little bit more. Being 'fooled' is painful because we are face to face with our ego which always wants to be in control of reality, and resents the fact that even the most precious things it cherishes will also be taken away sooner or later. But if we don't see it in this way, we will continue to mistrust people and think they are doing something on purpose to harm us, which is an unfortunate way of getting stuck in life.

Pitfalls of "Only Mindfulness"

 I glanced over the library books in the Buddhist section, after doing my tutoring session this afternoon. One of the books that stood out for me is a book by Analayo called Mindfully Facing Disease and Death. I look at it and want to take a look at it, wondering what it could be about, and indeed it looks quite fascinating. But when I glance at other books, I feel a sense of troubling discomfort. Most of the books that use "mindfulness" in the title seem pretty thin in premise and in quantity of pages. I think that trying to condense the concept of mindfulness into one hundred pages might not capture what it really is about. And a sense of pain sets into me, a kind of dread. It is as though the books are so light yet are so heavy at the same time. The words in these books weighs a thousand tons each. And why?
   I think that I have become disillusioned with 'only mindfulness', because there are times when mindfulness stripped of the other aspects of Buddhadharma seems too thin to be sustainable. This is because mindfulness in these texts often connects to the notion of 'bare awareness', without the accompanying principles that underpin that awareness. There is also contained in it a view that somehow being mindful will cure all of life's ailments and sufferings, when actually, it's really a kind of beginning or a journey. So when I see these books, I tend to feel that they are not cure-alls, and somehow more is needed to fully map a Buddhist philosophy and how it can benefit others.
   Without a sense of the inner psychodynamics that can beset a person, mindfulness practices could potentially open the doors to revisiting troubling situations. This is why I think it's important to round out one's education, be it through readings in psychology, or sociology, or Buddhism in general. Without a grounded context for one's practice, one can sometimes confuse certain experiences for what they are not, or inadvertently suppress certain forms of suffering or pain. This is because the texts on mindfulness emphasize being present, but there is no context of understanding that we can also be present with our past memories, as they come to surface, and being clear about how they influence our perceptions. In other words, 'present' is not so much a moment in time as it is an attitude of seeing things as they are unfolding with a clear and aware mind, whether it's the things around us or the memories and expectations we harbor.

Online Learning and Showcasing Work

  I have been thinking for a while about the prospect of studying how students can showcase their work online, and its effect on creating a culture of creativity, dialogue and learning. In particular, it would certainly be an interesting process to study how children's learning and empathy are facilitated when they write book reviews and translate these reviews into a different language for others (such as their parents) to read. I believe that this kind of study would touch upon the themes of writing and translating for multicultural audiences, and how doing so can help children foster empathy toward people of different cultures and generations, especially those in their own family. Related to this would be the kinds of decisions that young learners make when deciding how to translate their writing, for whom they are writing, and so on.
   I am not so sure about methodology, but this study seems interesting in a way. What interests me is the idea of taking books and using the stories one has read to interpret its key meanings for others. When we tell and retell stories, the nature of that story will change quite often, depending on the person with whom one is sharing the key story. This of course points to the impermanent nature of stories, but also points to the ability for stories to transform and change depending on the audience and the intention of the reviewer. It even makes me wonder whether the book review itself is a vehicle for empathy and voice. Even if I never read the book you are reviewing, the review itself gives me some insight into your thinking as a person, as well as the unique response between yourself and the book. Are there things conveyed in reviews which we don't read in the actual book itself? Of course there are, and that is the interesting aspect of reviews, in the sense that the communicate a book's meaning from one person to a specific audience.

Attitude of Non-Opposing

   Most action stories envision conflict as a contest between two or more people, usually branded as 'good' or 'bad' in some way. I have often felt the pull of feeling that my opinion may be more correct than someone else's, only to realize that the struggle to be 'right' is almost always a source of suffering in itself. Have you ever experienced moments when you felt that your point of view was so right that you were determined to make sure the other person knew it? There is a kind of desire there, which culminates in the satisfaction of feeling that the other was proven to be wrong. But all of this is often just a mask for one's own insecurities and need for control and power. For example, what would happen if instead of trying to correct the person whom I feel is wrong, I let that person do what they need to do, and gently tell them my own perspective or suggestions? Here, the orientation is not about being wrong or right, but about working with the conditions presented to oneself, and trying to empathize with multiple viewpoints.
    It seems helpful, for me anyway, to understand that what I think is 'right' is the result of my own conditions. If I am in a society that tends to support my way of thinking or framework, I am likely to never question myself or my own premises. I might even tend to unconsciously believe that anyone who strays from the pattern of right is a deviant and is therefore a threat to my sense of order, which I inherit from the society itself. There are times in everyone's life, however, when their sense of inviolable right is challenged, whether through being ostracized from a mainstream opinion or group, or coming to lose a precious role in the social order. Outsiders in society often represent this alternative, because they have had the fortune never to fall for the belief that there is a static role to fulfill in the world---one which represents a 'natural' or 'stable' state of things.
   I think that there are several things which need to arise to cultivate this attitude wholeheartedly. The first is to awaken to the fact that my 'right' is just a conditioned dream that is likely to change through opening up to new experiences and perspectives. Therefore, there isn't a need to cling to that view with a sense of 'this is who I am' or 'nobody can change me'. The second attitude is a trust in the way things work out. Sometimes the people who frighten us with their views (right or wrong) are the ones who most stand to teach us the things we may need to know. In particular, people whose views are different from ours can teach us the value of letting go of tenacious clinging to views, as well as the precious value of 'non-views' or not seeing things with a favored point of view. Finally, this kind of attitude requires an insight into the impermanent state of things in general. When I commit to this insight, I am no longer wedded to any view, and I can work with anyone.

Psychic Spaces and Voice

When I am facilitating group meditation, there are times when I really find my own voice, and those are moments when I am holding the doctrine of Buddhism very lightly, rather than trying to clutch it for meaning. I don't know how to describe this, but it's probably something that people experience all the time in one form or another. In the beginning of a learning process, there is a typical amount of tension, as learners master the alphabet or the language of a particular skill or trade. It's only at a later point that one can start to add a particular voice or style that is uniquely their own to it. But if a person is only thinking of learning as an accumulation of knowledge, they will tend to become more tense. It's as though one has forgotten what they have already internalized.
   When I first got my job in the current place where I work, I remember feeling overwhelmed by what I had to learn. The young girl who was training me at that time asked me one simple question,a and that is: "What is it that you know right now?" This simple question allowed me to reflect on what I already was understanding about the process, which in turn clarified the things that I was missing in terms of experience or information. As soon as I had the felt sense of 'knowing something', I quickly began to calm down, and I was more comfortable with uncertainty. I believe that this 'turning back to what I have learned' and reiterating it in an expressive form was what helped me stay with what I didn't know, and build upon what I knew.
   Online learning environments might be a great place where children can express what they have learned and read, as well as translate and teach others what they have learned. It would be interesting to study how people find their voices in learning, and when learning becomes a significant place of self-discovery. Do children start to enjoy learning more when they can present it to others? Are there downsides to an overemphasis on presenting one's work, and might it lead to a competitive dynamic? What do the learners feel when they have the opportunity to share and celebrate what they have learned? And does that learning open more space to accept uncertainty with new learning? These are also interesting things to learn when connected with the anxieties of learning a new language.