Every time I reflect on Buddhist teachings, it's as though everything is so reflective of one's state of mind that there are really no problems that need resolving. I am not saying that there are no "problems" (or challenges) but more that one does not necessarily need to rush to stamp out a problem if it's really coming from the state of one's mind. This is because the actual problem itself stems from my thinking about things, not from actual things in themselves.
This sounds a bit Kantian (and abstract), but I remember hearing a story about a monk who was being interrogated by prison guards, and whose only fear is that he would under the direst torture give in to anger. Whose anger? His own, in a sense. A prison guard's emotions are their own emotions, and thus they have little to do with me. However, this does not mean that I take a contemptuous or dismissive approach to the guards, since they too are also on my mind. So I do need to take care of those guards. However, the point is that I don't treat the guards as separate from me.
Sometimes, a body metaphor might help. I have yet to feel that my left hand is having a fight with my right. I have never felt that way, although some neurologists have reported conditions in which people don't experience one of their limbs as a part of their bodies at all. In these rare cases, one sees the body as something outside of oneself or one's mind. But for the most part, the body is seen as something that is part of awareness and is not of any surprise to me. Well, the challenge is, can one extend this idea to face any situation? Can one see that even if their body is feeling pain, that this pain is not some kind of "invader", and that it actually does exist as part of one's awareness? This is hard to practice, but I feel challenged to try.
Monday, July 9, 2018
Sunday, July 8, 2018
Self Reflection and Culture
Recently, I had the opportunity to create a self reflection about my identity using a video assignment. I have to admit that I started out quite optimistic, only to find myself later thinking that perhaps my self-reflection is quite boring or not that inspiring to other people. It's funny how my perspective changes when I try to see myself "from the outside", and perhaps the whole point of the exercise is to precisely see oneself "as though" one were meeting themselves for the first time. The idea is that in actively reflecting on your own identity, you start to create a cultural "artifact" and even participate in the process of making culture into an object that can be studied or approached as "study".
The paradox about culture, it seems: when you are immersed in a culture, you are not able to see it as "culture" per se, because there is nothing to compare it to. On the other hand, as soon as culture becomes an object of research or study, it somehow ceases to be lived experience. In addition, there is something somewhat forced or even selective about the process of deciding what makes it in an identity and what is in fact left out. The tricky thing also about culture is that as soon as I make an observation about it, I am already changing its way of being.
Knowing that culture is not a static object, there is no need to make a fetish out of it: it's not frozen in time, and I can't see myself in it. So why does one bother to study culture? Quite simply, it's because studying culture takes a person out of the delusion that they are operating exclusively from a psychology divorced from others or the environment. It helps one to realize that everything is interconnected with something else in some way, and how people live do have patterns. Finally, cultural studies might help to remind a person of the things that they value and what parts of themselves are operating from those values. In this way, becoming acquainted with one's culture can do a lot in shaping oneself.
The paradox about culture, it seems: when you are immersed in a culture, you are not able to see it as "culture" per se, because there is nothing to compare it to. On the other hand, as soon as culture becomes an object of research or study, it somehow ceases to be lived experience. In addition, there is something somewhat forced or even selective about the process of deciding what makes it in an identity and what is in fact left out. The tricky thing also about culture is that as soon as I make an observation about it, I am already changing its way of being.
Knowing that culture is not a static object, there is no need to make a fetish out of it: it's not frozen in time, and I can't see myself in it. So why does one bother to study culture? Quite simply, it's because studying culture takes a person out of the delusion that they are operating exclusively from a psychology divorced from others or the environment. It helps one to realize that everything is interconnected with something else in some way, and how people live do have patterns. Finally, cultural studies might help to remind a person of the things that they value and what parts of themselves are operating from those values. In this way, becoming acquainted with one's culture can do a lot in shaping oneself.
Friday, July 6, 2018
Gratitude and Intimacy
Does intimacy survive impermanence? I think that more than anything, intimacy is increased when one realizes impermanence. The two go hand in hand. However, the qualifier to this statement is that a different kind of intimacy emerges, which is based on a sense of gratitude. It's not about desiring, since desiring is grasping that which cannot ever really be grasped. Even one's emotions, however strong they may happen to be, are continually shifting and changing all the time. But with a sense of gratitude, one can contain all these changes and be able to see that everything is good and has its place in the entire pattern of things. Perhaps this is real gratitude: to be able to see individual things in the context of wholes, rather than taking the one part as the whole itself.
Thursday, July 5, 2018
Considering Judgment
When people meditate for a long time, do they start to relate to judgments differently, whether it's their own or someone else's? The reason I ask this question is that I wonder if judgments start to lose their sense of pervasiveness when a person learns to just sit in the present moment, and whether they can even turn more toward these judgments as hints and suggestions rather than as judgments. What would be the main differences between these things?
I think that for me, judgments hinge around a narrow sense of the self as always needing to be in charge of a situation. If my feeling of wishing for control is too tight, then everything around me will be experienced as a slight or a challenge to that sense of control. You can even try this: imagine something you really want to have or enjoy doing the most, and then try to interact with people around you while simultaneously harboring that thought. Often you will likely feel irritated and annoyed because you cannot fix on that one thought which you most like or appreciate. On the other hand, if you are having a conversation with someone to avoid some task or chore you don't like, that conversation will seem so heavenly! Perhaps this is because we are using self-reference to view the situation. But if we were to "turn down the volume" of that thought and want it a bit less, then the moment becomes full of more possibilities, because it is no longer an obstacle to where one wishes to be. In this way, how one assesses the situation plays a big part in whether or not one is able to fully commit to being present to the situation itself.
I think that for me, judgments hinge around a narrow sense of the self as always needing to be in charge of a situation. If my feeling of wishing for control is too tight, then everything around me will be experienced as a slight or a challenge to that sense of control. You can even try this: imagine something you really want to have or enjoy doing the most, and then try to interact with people around you while simultaneously harboring that thought. Often you will likely feel irritated and annoyed because you cannot fix on that one thought which you most like or appreciate. On the other hand, if you are having a conversation with someone to avoid some task or chore you don't like, that conversation will seem so heavenly! Perhaps this is because we are using self-reference to view the situation. But if we were to "turn down the volume" of that thought and want it a bit less, then the moment becomes full of more possibilities, because it is no longer an obstacle to where one wishes to be. In this way, how one assesses the situation plays a big part in whether or not one is able to fully commit to being present to the situation itself.
Tuesday, July 3, 2018
"Under" Weather
This weekend's hot weather has gradually dissipated into something more manageable. I find myself more resolved to continue my course work and resume the six weeks' worth of tasks. I shift away from irresolution to the final "let's get things going". No matter what, the first steps lead me to the next, until there comes a point where I don't even consider turning back.
Two themes have emerged from this recognition: the first is that I am not isolated from my physical world by any means. I am creaturely: subject to every creature's share of heat, cold, lethargy, boredom, despair, hunger, thirst and fatigue. There are so many factors, in fact, that contribute to one's moods that one can no longer ask the question, "what's wrong with me?" Instead, it shifts to, "what exactly makes this situation challenging for me?" Is it possible to list all the factors that make this particularly challenging? This requires a certain modicum of honesty: not trying to pretend that I am "above" creaturely needs like drink, rest, cold air and a place for private reflection, but factoring these into my current state of mind. Instead of idealizing myself to be somehow independent of these factors, what would it be like to include even the most mundane conditions in an assessment of how I am doing?
The second theme is, as I wrote about in my previous entry, the need to see motivation as part and concurrent with the journey itself. Staying in the place of "why" can sometimes be constructive to clarify certain things, but if it gets so broad as to ask "why am I even in this place, doing this thing, existing, etc" then chances are that the question will never be resolved. I may even need to step back and consider that some of these things are undeniably existential; they are part and parcel with the journey of uncertainty.
Two themes have emerged from this recognition: the first is that I am not isolated from my physical world by any means. I am creaturely: subject to every creature's share of heat, cold, lethargy, boredom, despair, hunger, thirst and fatigue. There are so many factors, in fact, that contribute to one's moods that one can no longer ask the question, "what's wrong with me?" Instead, it shifts to, "what exactly makes this situation challenging for me?" Is it possible to list all the factors that make this particularly challenging? This requires a certain modicum of honesty: not trying to pretend that I am "above" creaturely needs like drink, rest, cold air and a place for private reflection, but factoring these into my current state of mind. Instead of idealizing myself to be somehow independent of these factors, what would it be like to include even the most mundane conditions in an assessment of how I am doing?
The second theme is, as I wrote about in my previous entry, the need to see motivation as part and concurrent with the journey itself. Staying in the place of "why" can sometimes be constructive to clarify certain things, but if it gets so broad as to ask "why am I even in this place, doing this thing, existing, etc" then chances are that the question will never be resolved. I may even need to step back and consider that some of these things are undeniably existential; they are part and parcel with the journey of uncertainty.
Monday, July 2, 2018
Confidence Comes From "Doing"
I have written before about the idea that there are times when a person "overdoes", meaning that they try to use action to fill up their time and manage anxiety, rather than actively inquire into why they are doing something. However, I have just noticed the opposite tendency, and that is to ask too many "whys" before plunging into a project or a task. This begs the question, what is the difference between asking as a form of productive thinking and asking as a procrastination or avoidance strategy?
I again recall the recent retreat, where Guo Yuan Fashi referred to the importance of being fully present in one's planning. Once the plan has been set, it can certainly be revised, but the commitment also entails wholehearted action. I am also thinking that sometimes the way to step forward is simply "step forward", even if the first step is going to be uncertain, shaky, or even out of step entirely. Sometimes in doing something, one is able to find unexpected clues and answers to the original question, "why bother to do this?"
This actually turns out to be very interesting, because normally Western psychology has adopted a model of putting motivation before behavior rather than seeing them concurrently. It seems a common sense idea that in order to do something wholeheartedly and with success, one needs to first of all establish why they are doing it. But interestingly, I cannot think of too many examples in my life where my decision to do something lead to predicted results. This is because quite often the biggest decisions aren't really known until one goes ahead with them. In this way, all I can do is continue to refine my understanding of the situation to keep seeing whether it matches with my original motivations, or if my motivations have changed at all. For this reason, sometimes motivation might even come after doing.
I again recall the recent retreat, where Guo Yuan Fashi referred to the importance of being fully present in one's planning. Once the plan has been set, it can certainly be revised, but the commitment also entails wholehearted action. I am also thinking that sometimes the way to step forward is simply "step forward", even if the first step is going to be uncertain, shaky, or even out of step entirely. Sometimes in doing something, one is able to find unexpected clues and answers to the original question, "why bother to do this?"
This actually turns out to be very interesting, because normally Western psychology has adopted a model of putting motivation before behavior rather than seeing them concurrently. It seems a common sense idea that in order to do something wholeheartedly and with success, one needs to first of all establish why they are doing it. But interestingly, I cannot think of too many examples in my life where my decision to do something lead to predicted results. This is because quite often the biggest decisions aren't really known until one goes ahead with them. In this way, all I can do is continue to refine my understanding of the situation to keep seeing whether it matches with my original motivations, or if my motivations have changed at all. For this reason, sometimes motivation might even come after doing.
Sunday, July 1, 2018
Cheerful in All Situations
This title is actually a bit of a misnomer, because I have not found it possible to be "cheerful" all the time. I remember reading some article years ago, perhaps in William James's writings, where he talks about the idea that one smiles first before one is happy, as a way of prompting feelings of happiness. But when I talk about "cheerful", I am referring more to an attitude than to an emotion, and therefore not dependent on emotions at all.
Cheerfulness, to me, is a kind of decision not to allow the troubles of life to affect one's sovereignty over their emotional life. It often means being selective and discerning about where one would like to devote one's overall energies in a given situation.This is a delicate balance for me. At work, for example, I will be anxious if I am overwhelmed by many tasks, and in that sense, the tasks do influence my emotional life. But if I choose to take the tasks in a cheerful way, I am no longer bound by certain ideas or thoughts that make me a kind of prisoner to those tasks. To give another example I heard of that I am quite fond of quoting: Alan Watts gave the example in a cassette tape I had listened to many years ago, about how, even in the midst of a pile of dishes, one is really only responsible for one dish at a time. A cheerless person will look at the whole pile of dishes in front of her or him and lose their entire "appetite" to wash dishes. They thus become governed by the appearance of "so many dishes to clean". On the other hand, a cheerful person has this ability to curtail the obvious, and even to train their mind so that they are not jumping to the overwhelming conclusion or thought that all these "things" need to be handled all at once. Ironically, then, being cheerful involves a certain selective ability to see, rather than taking in the entire picture. It requires a kind of active approach to curtailing the way one sees things so that they are not starkly overwhelming or daunting.
I apply this principle now to a course syllabus I am reviewing about "Identity and the Literary Text". Here, I start to get bogged down by the assignment requirement which asks me to write down five key areas of my identity. "Wow, identity: that is such a huge topic", I realistically assess. However, I then unrealistically conclude that because the syllabus assignment requires me to discuss this topic, I am somehow required to write everything about it. Rather than seeing the assignment as a potentially exploratory or evocative one where I have artistic license to select the areas I want to discuss and reflect on, I think this assignment asks me to define who I am...which is subject to continuous change in most cases! Now isn't that something? In fact, the task of defining one's true self is not something that most people can reasonably do in six weeks, which thus leads me to wonder if perhaps I have missed the point of the assignment or might need to adjust my expectations about how I will approach the requirements of the assignment.
Cheerfulness, to me, is a kind of decision not to allow the troubles of life to affect one's sovereignty over their emotional life. It often means being selective and discerning about where one would like to devote one's overall energies in a given situation.This is a delicate balance for me. At work, for example, I will be anxious if I am overwhelmed by many tasks, and in that sense, the tasks do influence my emotional life. But if I choose to take the tasks in a cheerful way, I am no longer bound by certain ideas or thoughts that make me a kind of prisoner to those tasks. To give another example I heard of that I am quite fond of quoting: Alan Watts gave the example in a cassette tape I had listened to many years ago, about how, even in the midst of a pile of dishes, one is really only responsible for one dish at a time. A cheerless person will look at the whole pile of dishes in front of her or him and lose their entire "appetite" to wash dishes. They thus become governed by the appearance of "so many dishes to clean". On the other hand, a cheerful person has this ability to curtail the obvious, and even to train their mind so that they are not jumping to the overwhelming conclusion or thought that all these "things" need to be handled all at once. Ironically, then, being cheerful involves a certain selective ability to see, rather than taking in the entire picture. It requires a kind of active approach to curtailing the way one sees things so that they are not starkly overwhelming or daunting.
I apply this principle now to a course syllabus I am reviewing about "Identity and the Literary Text". Here, I start to get bogged down by the assignment requirement which asks me to write down five key areas of my identity. "Wow, identity: that is such a huge topic", I realistically assess. However, I then unrealistically conclude that because the syllabus assignment requires me to discuss this topic, I am somehow required to write everything about it. Rather than seeing the assignment as a potentially exploratory or evocative one where I have artistic license to select the areas I want to discuss and reflect on, I think this assignment asks me to define who I am...which is subject to continuous change in most cases! Now isn't that something? In fact, the task of defining one's true self is not something that most people can reasonably do in six weeks, which thus leads me to wonder if perhaps I have missed the point of the assignment or might need to adjust my expectations about how I will approach the requirements of the assignment.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)