Life's Disappointments

   Reading Martha Nussbaum's text Upheavals of Thought, I've been struck by the distinction between what she refers to as different "ladders of love". Nussbaum analyses different kinds of eschatology, ranging from Platonic to Augustinian, even proceeding forth to Dante and, eventually, James Joyce. I haven't completed this significant text, but one thing that strikes me is the balance between cherishing the Platonic ideal (all that is beautiful in one's life or which one cherishes as "the good") and respecting that one is not always in control of achieving such an ideal. According to Augustine, humans are mired in original sin, and simply have no way to achieve any ideal state of mind except through the grace of God.

    I think that, for me, these experiences represent different forms of introspection. Ideals are always going to exist: I have some template about how my life should proceed, and that stays with me no matter how old I become. However, as I get older, I don't feel that much regret that the ideal is not "realized" in a single human life. This is because I recognize the ideal to be just that ---an ideal--and I don't try to judge my worth by whether or not I have reached such ideals. Whatever standards of achievement, beauty, excellence, success and identity I have cherished at different periods in life (particularly adolescence), I can no longer say that I am guaranteed to achieve, even through hard work or diligent efforts. Does this mean that I don't try to achieve anything at all? That's hardly the case. Achievement and efforts are still worth striving for in themselves, but there is less pressure for me to fulfill them in the specific ways that I had imagined as a younger person. I can't say why this is the case, but I would venture to guess that it's because my soul gets somehow mirrored in whatever I do, regardless of the circumstances. In that respect, even if the mirror is muddy or tarnished--inferior in some way--I start to have faith that I won't lose the soul's beauty and purpose, even if I were to have difficulties in expressing it and manifesting it.

   I will give a specific example. For a long time, I wanted to be a published writer. However, one of the sad ironies is that, no matter how much I write and how many poetry documents I print, I have hardly ever sent any of this work for publication. I think part of the reason for this is a kind of fear of rejection, and another reason is a loss of nerve. I somehow recognize that there are all kinds of mental barriers to action, including the lack of time. But at the same time, I don't worry about it. For example, the fact that I am writing this blog, or anything, for that matter, is proof, to me, of the writer's soul that still lies within me and speaks to me. It is still evidence of a seeking heart, and through even a simple construction of a written piece, I see the beauty of the seeking heart. This, for me, is enough to know that my life is meaningful, and it has some kind of small spark of vitality, regardless of the darkness that might surround me at times. 

   Of course, there are other ways in which I have had the fortune to express my purpose in the world: teaching young students classics, for example, and doing my doctoral thesis. These things will hardly make me famous or world renowned, but when I look deeply into them, I see the soul that set out to be in this world and shed some small beauty into it. And that, for me, is infinitely of more value than all the accolades or stamp of achievement that might come my way, whether by design or accident.

Anchoring

   When you find a teacher who inspires you a lot, it's best to go to that teacher periodically to renew your faith. Sometimes, the teacher's presence is more inspiring than what you are able to do yourself, so going back to that teacher to replenish your faith is important and vital. 

    The reason I write this remark is that I am harkening back to my previous entry about spiritual anchoring. The anchor has always been a symbolically rich metaphor for how I took spiritual practice, especially in the beginning, when I first started to learn and facilitate meditation practices. I would even use this term when I was a timekeeper as well. It always brought me back to something I know the most, which is my present lived experience--and which, I might add, could not be taken away from me. Any time a person feels insecure or jealous about anything--afraid of losing their reputation or status--chances are that they are confusing something out there for their true identity, or true mind. If one has truly found their truest mind, they will find that this true mind is what can never be taken away, since it has no object to begin with! And so, in order to find what is true, one must always go back to what is most fundamental, most simple and most immediate to their lived in-the-moment experience.

    So, the teacher that inspires one the most, is the teacher that brings a person back to their most peaceful self. And that is the teacher that one wants to take refuge in, rather than taking refuge in a teacher who is taking you all over the place and confusing you! After all, that wouldn't necessarily be a teacher who would lead you to find your best qualities.

    

A Spiritual Anchor

   If I were to sum up what I understand from Master Sheng Yen's teachings, it is that he has given me a spiritual anchor. His teachings have allowed me to remember to stay centered in awareness, when things are difficult and I am facing the demons of my afflictions and vexations. I believe that the real gift that Venerable Sheng Yen has given to the world was his ability to make Dharma teachings accessible and easy to understand for people from all walks of life. This is what leads me to respect Master Sheng Yen and see him as my Dharma teacher.

  Dharma is simple and profound: it is going back to this mind, this present, this body, this time, this awareness. Doing this moment to moment, one is grounded in what's really happening, not wandering thoughts of what could be but hasn't happened, or what has past and is already gone. This simplicity of Chan allows me to recognize that most of my thoughts aren't really worth the anxiety I put into them. What can't be finished today will wait until tomorrow, and what can be done today can be done with steadfast resolve. 

   Which brings me to my doctoral thesis: Will it ever be done? Well, if I think this way, there is no enjoyment, and hardly any learning. Enjoying the process of being just in this moment is very important. And I hope to explore similar topics in the future.

Soft Energy

 Sometimes, I feel that the gift of "just being" in the present--with whatever happens to be there-is enough. When I say "enough", I don't mean that there is nothing to do. To the contrary, that soft presence comes from recognizing that there is infinite to do, and never enough time to do it all. There are certainly endless books to be read in my personal library, endless chores to be done, endless work at work, etc. There is never any end to the work that needs to be done. And yet, one can be softly present to it, not urgently trying to finish everything all at once.

   Sometimes, I do feel the soft presence of others; it is a living and natural energy, and one can sometimes feel it more in some than in others. It can be cultivated, I believe, simply through the recognition that there is nothing that urgent or pressing: things will be done in their own time. But also, this energy needs to be fearless. It is not ashamed of itself, and it doesn't feel it needs to be anything more or less than what it is in the moment, so it does not try to shift shape with every passing circumstance.

   Soft presence is an energy that itself is a gift to others. This is challenging to understand, but I believe that the power to put others at ease by having a do-nothing attitude is one of the most glorious gifts that one can truly give to others. It is a monumental contribution in a world where people are constantly running around trying to add things to their resume. Such kind of a gentle and soft nothingness is what's needed to counteract pride; rage and anger in not having status; jealousy of others; inferiority complexes; chronic insecurity or feeling one has not "done enough", etc.

Moral Alienation

  In this entry, I want to coin a term 'moral alienation' to describe a belief that a person cannot possibly please an authority figure (either inward or outward), due to a sense of pervasive shame or failure to live up to normative standards or expectations. This phenomena, I believe, not only applies to external authorities but might also describe an experience of failing to live up to one's own ethical standards, which might sometimes feel too high or unattainable at certain points in a person's life.

   "Losing face" is one example of moral alienation. A person might lose their reputation in front of one's peers and suffer from public humiliation as a result. This can create a sense of low self-esteem, or a sense that one is not as competent as one's peers in fulfilling moral requirements such as being generous, hard-working, and so on. Sometimes, this also happens when a person perceives others as being superior in their capacity to fulfill moral requirements or be good people. A lot of this talk about who is good and who is bad, of course, is based on subjective perceptions or consensus, but it's also reinforced by a tendency to think in terms of binaries: either a person is absolutely "good" or absolutely "bad", with no in between or spaces for acknowledgement of both qualities within the same person.

   One of the causes, to my thinking, of moral alienation, is a tendency to reduce complex matters to slogans that are designed to "wake people up". This happens a lot on social media, where a person will write a message or post a graphic that seems to sum up all the things that are bad about the world, and blame certain people for that badness. People are targeted or scapegoated, in other words. Slogans are justified as being rightful expressions of moral condemnation for things that are deemed indisputably wrong. But one of the problems with slogans is that, quite simply... they are too short! Short and trite statements don't really expose the complex or nuanced nature of problems, and often leave readers feeling that there is one simplified way of looking at the issue. I don't think this approach is particularly helpful, and it often leaves people defensive or lost, rather than truly "woke". Such kinds of statements don't necessarily foster dialogue, collaboration or even the work necessary to resolve problems. It's very easy to click that "send" button and try to state a strong case for something, but again, most of the situations that people face require efforts and long-term, everyday working on problems. They can't be resolved simply by shocking people or trying to assign blame.

  Moral alienation seems to be best addressed by acknowledging complexity and cultivating a space of compassion for complexity. If my objects of compassion are only certain kinds of things and not other things, I become selective in my compassion, and this selectiveness leaves some without a voice. It's important also that people can make a choice not to fall for shock appeals or statements that are designed to arouse anger or defensiveness. Instead, a respect for nuance and complexity is an antidote to moral alienation, and can allow people to continue the path based on their own conditions rather than trying to reduce everything to absolutes or binaries.  

   

Nature Views

   I am much more interested these days in the spaces between things: I will take photos out of focus or sometimes very quickly, without really looking to see what I am taking! Is there a logic to this? Well, it has to do with trusting in a judgment that doesn't arise from words alone. It's perhaps a subtle discernment-I know what I like, but I have yet to find the words to put it together.

  Nature photos are a good example. We often joke about how apps like Tik Tok or even Instagram have ways of enhancing one's appearance, but nature does not require this. Going outside, everything in nature seems to have its place, and it would be a bit absurd to try to "brush up" a nature photo so that something looks "younger" or "more symmetrical". And yet, this is the kind of thing that people will consider when taking photos of themselves or other people. With nature, there is a kind of accommodation that sets in: a notion that this scene that I am seeing is much too complex to be curated by a human, let alone decorated to look more "human" or more artificial.

 This reminds me of two dominant paradigms that I have read about in education. While one paradigm suggests that the student is a blank slate to be filled with the customs or rituals that are most conducive to building a cultured or educated mind, the other suggests that a student is already gifted and waiting to be discovered as a gift by teachers. Montessori and Steiner seem to belong to the latter category, while the former seems to accord more to a traditional view of education. With the first paradigm, there is a template to which humans are meant to conform. With the second paradigm, there is something that needs to be discovered and even honored in the other.

  Talk about nature is of course somewhat misleading, because there are different cultural views of nature. But overall, the idea of nature seems to accord with an orientation of surrender; trusting that what is in front of us is more complete than any designed or created thing, and even having faith that whatever is happening is part of an unfolding, interdependent process that does yield significance and meaning, without our actively needing to frame it as such. Very few people have analyzed what this "nature" is---and I am sure it's a cultural meaning--but I do try to get the underlying view of it.

New Starts and Gratitude

   This Christmas Eve is the first time I have spent away from family. I would like to reflect on gratitude and how the new year might be one of being grateful.

     Gratitude, at least to my understanding, is not about being positive or joyful about everything that one has. In fact, I think it starts more modestly with taking stock of what a person has. Small things do count, and in fact, turn out to be very big things. Recently, I felt grateful for the fact that I am still working, and can make some kind of income to be able to make choices about my life and how I go about doing it. These kinds of things are gifts, because we never really can create the conditions for them entirely ourselves. At the same time, cherishing those things allows me to feel less attached to setbacks or things that appear to be imperfect to me. I think these kinds of considerations help me to frame gratitude as a way of honoring and respecting what's truly given in life rather than striving for an absolute kind of perfection.

   One other aspect that I am reflecting on recently, is that there is no such thing as an "absolutely" good or "absolutely" terrible situation. There is a symbol in Taoism which reflects a very similar idea, namely that white contains black, and black, conversely, contains white. This visual image, I believe, is supposed to reflect the principles of Yin and Yang, but more so the idea that everything contains its opposite. Extreme pleasure or bliss contains a painful moment; extreme triumph carries the seeds of pride and, hence, failure. Conversely, illness can lead to a discovery of life's preciousness and values; or, a difficulty can make a person more mature and eliminate unnecessary worries or preoccupations. I could go on with these examples, but the point is that there is never a point where a person throws up their hands and says that there is nothing good at all in their life, since everything is nuanced and textured. Hopelessness contains hope, as does its opposite. So when I start to think in this way, my mind softens and I start to actively look for the kinds of things that could be well in my life.

   A lot of what I am thinking on this subject is in alignment with what I have learned from Buddhism, Stoicism and a lot of cognitive psychology--and yes, a bit of Taoism--, but I think it's important to remind myself that these teachings do exist, and can operate on microlevels to curb depressive thoughts or change the direction of one's thinking altogether. I certainly hope that this piece offers some inspiration to learn more about these philosophies.