Intentional Curiosity Again

During the sharing after the group meditation practice today, what came to my mind was the question a student had raised to Bodhidharma, and that is, "how can I settle my mind?"... at which point Bodhidharma had said (with a very fierce expression), "show me your mind, and I will pacify it." Not knowing exactly where this mind is, the student has an insight that there is no mind to pacify. I am not sure why this point was raised but it seemed right at the time when I came out of the meditation sitting.
   I have thought about this expression "intentional curiosity", and I don't think it's a very apt expression. Yes, it's important to develop an intention to want to know where the mind it, what it is, at every given point in time. But at the same time, there is something gentle about curiosity: I really don't need to know at all, and I don't have to harp on the fact that I don't know. Instead, my mind is very gently open and pointing in that direction of wonder. This is really the key point for me, and that is not to try too hard to be curious. After all, anything that we are going to deliberately be "curious" about is only going to be an illusory object. It isn't really what one is aiming for.
   I have sometimes found that certain kinds of music helps to evoke a sense of mystery, or the edges of reality starting to curl and reveal something else. But be careful not to make this into another dogma. It's not about trying to solidify or catch anything: rather, it's always retaining that light sense of wonder that never quite touches or grounds itself in any particular thing. This is the nature of mind: it's always luminous, like a crystal, and beautiful, but one is so shrouded in habitual ways of solidifying their bodies and identities that they cannot see this wonder.

Writing and Learning

  Part of what I have come to learn in the year of studies is that writing is a very methodical process, much like the way one does research. Prior to taking the proseminar course, I have harbored this naive attitude that writing is somehow a spontaneous process which happens straight from a person's heart. In fact, a lot of it is very step by step. What helps is for me to understand that the writing itself is not the final goal; learning is the final goal. In other words, truly writing one's life is a process of simultaneous self-discovery, where the process of formulating words on the page in and of itself becomes a form of continual renewed discovery. The act of writing is inseparable from the process of discovery and thinking.
   I find that this way of looking at writing is a refreshing step away from my previous ideas, which often positioned writing as a way of polishing already existing thoughts, rather than as a thought formation in itself. If taken seriously, the actual act of writing becomes an on-the-spot creative process of discovery, as opposed to simply a chronicle of one's past thoughts. It's quite refreshing in the sense that writing in this vein can lift away the burdens of having to present a perfected version of one's thinking in written form.
  At the same time, I am no longer that attached to the idea that writing doesn't involve planning and stages. In fact, it really does involve a lot of planning and methodical plotting of themes and ideas. To write is a bit like a marathon: one needs to chart the course and strategize over what stops they need to make in order to reach the finish post in a given time. Learning is thus not entirely spontaneous, any more than research is. There needs to be a stated question that one really wants to explore, followed by methods which logically complement the question itself and allow for meaningful answers. Once a structure is in place, there is then room for the researcher/writer to explore the inroads in the writing itself as well as the question one is attempting to explore or answer.
   Even if I never publish a full scale book in my lifetime, I would truly benefit to know what are the steps involved in doing so. Research complements the process of writing because it shows how to develop a plan for a longer work that can be accessed by others.

Impermanence as a Social Tool

  I am reflecting on how Buddhist philosophy can be a very good tool for social life. When I reflect on impermanence and contemplate it, having to socialize with people doesn't seem "a big deal" as it was before. It's only when I believe that people are permanent that I develop grasping or rejecting attitudes toward them. I don't recognize that what I am really perceiving is the mind's tendencies, not  a solid permanent thing that always exists all the time.
   It would be interesting to do a self-study on the kinds of beliefs that underlie social anxiety. I certainly think that one of those beliefs has to do with taking responses to human beings as being a permanent attribute of "myself" or others. For instance, according Alfred Korzybski's theory of General Semantics, humans have a tendency to use language to reify particular reactions to things. I observe a reaction or response I have to a situation and then draw the conclusion that I am always, irrevocably one way, and cannot be any other way. What I don't recognize is that the response is a habit: I see a phenomena and then react to it according to something associated with it that I experienced before. There are certainly multiple ways to respond to the situation, but I choose the way that I most identify with "me" not realizing that this is not me at all. It's only one way in which the mind has responded to similar situations in the past.
   Before a person experiences social anxiety or even disconnection, a thought usually emerges, usually some thought about the self. Before I can allow the experience to unfold naturally, I interject the sense of self: "Am I doing okay?" "Does this person like me?" "What do I stand to gain from talking to this person?" This self-reference continually emerges and puts pressure on the situation. Meanwhile, as I am reflecting on this presumably real, permanent sense of self, a sense of a concrete, permanent "other" emerges, which is labelled as a whole slew of imagined characteristics. Most of these characteristics are projections of my own evaluating self, who is always looking to see where it fits into the situation and is comparing itself, evaluating and judging. Of course, in the process of solidifying the self and the other, the entire situation becomes fraught with anxiety: am I good enough for this person? Is this person suitable for me? Do we get along together? etc. etc. All this inner discourse only reinforces my belief that there are these separate beings who are outside of the permanent "self". It's no wonder that such a situation gives rise to a feeling of alienation or struggle. I struggle to "get along" and "fit in" with you, not realizing that both "I" and "you" are temporary constructs that emerge in that moment in time, as a structuring tool or convention.  I don't recognize that these concepts are essentially illusory.
    What does all this mean for social life? I do believe it's important to approach social life in the same way that we approach meditative practice. We understand and recognize that what we think to be solid and "real" about ourselves and others is actually just a series of mental evaluations and constructs. It's as though the mind were a transparent calculator which continually throws figures up on the window of the world. I see the numbers on the screen and use such numbers to "frame" and quantify my experience in a certain way, such as through the lenses of success, personal gain, attraction, "spiritual growth", inner worth, and so on. Yet, what I fail to recognize is that the situation itself lacks permanence: there is nothing to secure in that moment. All I can do in that moment is treat the situation as a vow, such as the vow to treat the phenomena as one's mind and not separate from mind. In this way, my understanding of the world and its situations starts to soften, and I am no longer up against hard boundaries such as self/other, gain/loss, past/future, etc. etc. This subtle softening of boundaries can allow a person to face their emotional states with more courage and less fear.
 

Alternate Stories

 I am planning a lesson for my Grade 4 students based on Gulliver's Travels, where it talks about Gulliver's encounter with the magic conjurers of "Glubbdubdrib". In this chapter, Gulliver meets the spirits of historical figures, many of whom don't prove to be the way historians quite pictured them to be. I believe this chapter satirizes the way history is written in such a way that it valorizes some who did not "deserve" credit while belittling or ignoring those who might have received more credit than they did. History, for Jonathan Swift, is not so straightforward, and it almost seemed that Swift admired the antihero who did accomplish a great deal yet was not honored for her or his achievements. Cato, Socrates and Brutus were examples of historical figures whom Swift felt did not sufficiently receive credit where it was due.
   I begin to wonder what would be the take home lesson for Grade 4 students? Is it to say that our reputations are often built upon distorted stories or narratives? I find this conclusion to be a bit pessimistic, and it might lead one not to trust any historical narratives at all. A different way of teaching this lesson might be to consider, what are alternate ways of looking at people's lives? How might the life of a disgraced or "obscure" person, for instance, be seen in a way that truly recognizes the person's struggles and achievements, rather than consigning them to a category such as "failure"? What this lesson might also introduce is the theme that a lot of our narratives are based on perspectives and biases. It's hard to shake off a person's reputation, and it takes courage to be able to shed new light on a person that sufficiently explores their achievements in spite of negative aspects that might have been emphasized.
   The way I might design such a lesson for the students might be to explore someone they know or have read about, and try to explore unexpected or surprising facts about that person which have not been heretofore explored. Another way would be to have the students guess which obscure historical facts about a person belong to that historical figure, thus getting the students to think about alternate ways of seeing a person or even to feel "surprise" at history rather than framing people according to preconceived ideas.
   

White Rhinos

  On my Facebook feed today, I saw the very sad news that there is only one known example of a northern male white rhino in existence. His name is "Sudan", and according to the article, he is apparently very ill. The unfortunate part of this news is that there are only two other females that this male rhinoceros can mate with, and all three are in the process of ageing. This rhino is heavily protected, yet its the internal state of its being that stands to truly threaten it with extinction.
   Rhinos have always symbolized for me the most threatened animals, even when I was very young. Part of the problem is that they are such beautiful and prized creatures, whose horns are valued for their apparent medicinal properties. Whether such medicinal virtues are real or not, it remains questionable to me whether it is truly worth it for the species to be killed only for the sake of its horn. The paradox is that, however strong or sturdy the rhinoceros's body is, it is truly one of the most vulnerable creatures. I have always marveled at this paradox, and feel sad that humans are losing this species through the combination  greed, exploitation and unlimited "growth" or expansion of human societies.
   Eugene Ionesco wrote a play called Rhinoceros, which I read many years ago. This play did a quite opposite thing in suggesting the rhino to symbolize conformity and (perhaps) a kind of herd mentality. Interestingly, in my mind, the whole play represents not being part of any crowd, and not having the sufficient support and resources to find sustenance through a group of people.
     Compassion itself, as I mentioned in my earlier blog, is not so easy to negotiate in crowds. I am far too used to people passing off words like "unity" and "doing things together as a group" to realize that this kind of solidarity conceals more than it truly unifies or harmonizes. Even when people profess to share the same beliefs and principles, it's rare to find that people's experiences of these principles and beliefs is going to be exactly identical, let alone the way they express their shared commitments to a group. What always invariably happens is that the power of the group trumps the ability for individuals to find support and care. This is similar to what happens when species diversity is neglected in favor of the "grander" goals to profit and unlimited human expansion, which ends up becoming exploitative in some way.
   Being able to look at things from a variety of perspectives can often help to mitigate the tendency to marginalize sentient beings or leave people disenfranchised. This takes a lot of hard thinking and trying out different things with some persistence and sensitivity. But most importantly, it requires an attitude of never giving up trying to fight for the protection of sentient beings. Guarding the white rhino symbolizes an almost futile quest, but it is something that is done in the spirit of love and faith that the love means something, and it has longer consequences that cannot necessarily be seen in the moment.
   

Allowing Depressed States

 In Cutting Through Spiritual Materialism, Chogyam Trungpa notes, "Whenever the possibility of depression arises and the feeling of loss is about to occur, the defensive nature of ego immediately brings to mind memories and words we have heard in the past in order to comfort us. Thus ego is continually looking for inspiration which has no root in the present; it is a continual running back. This is the more complicated action of self-deception: one does not allow depression to come into being at all" (p.68). What this chapter alludes to is how depressive states of being tend to be suppressed in favour of soothing words. Instead of facing the depressed state and realizing that it is inherently "okay" for these states to emerge in mind, one tends to try to use positive messages and images to cover over that depressed state. But perhaps it can be meaningful not to run away at all, let alone to even create meaning around the depressed state.
    Many depressed states do indeed relate to "the feeling of loss", but who wants to feel loss? Perhaps the journey of meditation itself is learning to accept losses in small increments. In having the space not to surround our bodies with comfortable sensations, let alone control what comes in or leaves mind, there is this tiny space where nothing happens: there are no plot lines, no "punch lines" and no stories to follow in that brief, quiet space where one is just letting the emotions emerge in themselves. But this sense of loss can then extend toward being able to be in uncomfortable situations without necessary spinning into disconnected states. I still need to work with the things in this world and function as a person in relation to others, so it's necessary that I remain engaged even if I do have uncomfortable feelings. But being with those feelings simultaneously with engaging in the world can be a very good skill to know and understand. I think this kind of skill could also be nurtured by not preventing learners from reading about the sadder states of mind that have come over many people in different walks of life, be they scholars or political figures, etc. But what I think most impresses me about Rinpoche's approach is the promise that darkness contains a lot of richness, and one can stay in that place for a while to become acquainted with it without necessarily losing one's sense of responsibilities to life and to others.

Trungpa, Chongyam (1973), Cutting Through Spiritual Materialism. Boulder: Shambhala

Guilt as a Barrier

I have been thinking recently about guilt and its pluses and minuses. Having a healthy sense of guilt, like shame, can be a very good thing, because it helps us to steer clear of behavior that is not helpful or compassionate. On the other hand, too much guilt can be toxic. It can lead to the mistaken view that in order to truly be responsible, one must always take into consideration everything a person wishes for, and never say no to them. Such an attitude can lead to a blurring of boundaries, where the sense of what could benefit everyone starts to blur, and one begins to wonder to whom one is serving by always saying yes.
  I am reminded of a story in which a family or group of people ended up going on some ordeal of a trip, thinking that the other party was interested in going on this long trek. Later, they realize that the other persons were not at all interested in going to this particular place. In fact, they were motivated to go because they were under the impression that the former had wanted to go to this intrepid place! What can one learn from this? It's that what I think is the case (or assume to be so) is really only my own experience, often projected onto others. Sometimes when I say, "I feel bad if I don't do this", what I really mean is that if I don't receive the thing I am expecting myself to do to someone else, I would feel bad for not receiving it (assuming I were that other person). But this doesn't mean that it's even desirable to have done this even for myself, and nor does it mean that I have the other person's interests in mind. In fact, I may never have even asked the other person what they really want, instead only assuming based on what I like.  Compassion is complex and tricky in this way, because it's not just about what I would like. It has to be about listening to the other to know what they like as well.
   Sometimes, saying no to one thing might mean being able to say yes to things that matter, not just to me but to others as well. For instance, I have always had difficulty saying no to things when the rationalization is that I should be a good team player. But simply putting people together as part of a big whole doesn't necessarily guarantee that this group will somehow congeal together or communicate with each other. It's a bit like family photos: the group is all in one place and smiling, but we don't really know what each person is thinking and feeling. This is why the idea of simply bringing people together is not sufficient for unity. There often needs to be something that people mutually care about that they are actively involved in or can play a part in. People want to feel basically needed, so putting people in one place is not in itself sufficient for a "team" to be a "team." There needs to be more mutuality and a sense of people really appreciating each other.
  Feeling "guilty" might just be a conflict between wanting to help and realizing that one doesn't have the means to help in an impacting way, given the current situation and causes. In this case, it might be better to sit with the guilt for a while until better circumstances arise for real help or growth to happen.