Discomfort is an opportunity more than it is an obstacle. During the sharing after the meditation practice tonight, one of the participants talked about a metaphor that is often used in Thich Nhat Han's circles, namely that of clouds in the sky. While some people might see the sky as eternally "present" and only in need of "clearing away" the clouds to fully be visible, others maintain that the clouds themselves are not obstacles. This is a hard practice to grasp, since a lot of times, people have a tendency to try to get rid of discomforts in order to achieve a kind of piece of mind. However, this is not necessary; one need only to realize that their thoughts and impressions are only forms of the same mind, in much the same way that clouds are phenomena.
I think the best way of looking at this might be to recognize that even the worst kind of thoughts one could possibly have are empty and conditioned in nature. Just as they arise in one instant due to conditions preceding it, so it will also pass away in favor of other thoughts and conditions. There is no sense "building a fence" around a cloud to protect oneself from it. Not only will the cloud go away on its own but it cannot be contained by any boundary anyway, so it's a bit futile to try to suppress thoughts altogether.
Why do we get "snagged" or attached to thoughts? This is more difficult to really understand, but it has to do with creating a subject and an object. As soon as I think there is something to be grasped that is permanent, a "grasper" evolves from it. Often this will happen so imperceptibly that one will hardly even notice when it's happened. But the good thing is that I can go back to this very same phenomena at a later time and be able to see it differently, with new eyes, because there is no self that is grasping and no object to be grasped. In this way, the discomfort itself is illusory, because it is taking the clouds to be permanent when in fact it is not to be grasped.
Thursday, May 31, 2018
Wednesday, May 30, 2018
Turning Movement into Stillness
When I am hearing the story of my colleague's retreat, I am sometimes lead to wonder: does anything ever really happen on retreat? Or is it really simply turning movement into stillness? I thought about how common it is for practitioners to report on how even the sense of time is lost during the longer retreats. But sometimes there is a teachable moment there, in the sense that one is realizing that there is already an inherent stillness in everything.
When we converse with people or even read the news, do we look at the underlying stillness, or do we look at the movement? To answer that question, I need only reflect on the word "news". "News" entails something that is emerging, that is completely novel, and is also completely original. An air of anticipation happens when we hear the words "breaking news", because the term entails a kind of rupturing of a predictable routine: "We interrupt our regular programming to deliver this breaking..".. and of course, "novels" and "news" are probably the two most popular genres of reading on longer commutes, where they both entail original, up and coming information. The point I am making is, one would hardly pay so much attention to breaking news if it were known or understood ahead of time that the news contains similar patterns of human interaction that cycle. Today's "gossip" may seem completely new, but somehow our familiarity with it tells us that it speaks of something universal and deep within the human psyche, such as a struggle to be known or recognized. However nobody wants to admit that our "news" stories are really old ones, because doing so takes the fun out of reading the news or watching it on one's preferred feed. This tells me that people often prefer seeing movement rather than looking for the stillness in things.
The practice of turning movement into stillness in terms of reading news might be....to look for the silent universals in the news. Most stories revolve around similar issues: fear, trust/mistrust, camaraderie, betrayal, loss, success and separation. And they are simply rehashed in ways that make it appear as though they are being discovered for the first time, or as though the person affected by them was somehow not supposed to be affected. The "sullying" of a pure person is one such example of a trope one often finds in news, where scandals hit people who were otherwise considered "pure" as snow or good all around. But perhaps the sullying aspect is the switch from a universal given to an unexpected twist: I recognize that the eternal I once assumed in someone is really constant change, and the change I assumed excited me about someone is only a changing constant.
When we converse with people or even read the news, do we look at the underlying stillness, or do we look at the movement? To answer that question, I need only reflect on the word "news". "News" entails something that is emerging, that is completely novel, and is also completely original. An air of anticipation happens when we hear the words "breaking news", because the term entails a kind of rupturing of a predictable routine: "We interrupt our regular programming to deliver this breaking..".. and of course, "novels" and "news" are probably the two most popular genres of reading on longer commutes, where they both entail original, up and coming information. The point I am making is, one would hardly pay so much attention to breaking news if it were known or understood ahead of time that the news contains similar patterns of human interaction that cycle. Today's "gossip" may seem completely new, but somehow our familiarity with it tells us that it speaks of something universal and deep within the human psyche, such as a struggle to be known or recognized. However nobody wants to admit that our "news" stories are really old ones, because doing so takes the fun out of reading the news or watching it on one's preferred feed. This tells me that people often prefer seeing movement rather than looking for the stillness in things.
The practice of turning movement into stillness in terms of reading news might be....to look for the silent universals in the news. Most stories revolve around similar issues: fear, trust/mistrust, camaraderie, betrayal, loss, success and separation. And they are simply rehashed in ways that make it appear as though they are being discovered for the first time, or as though the person affected by them was somehow not supposed to be affected. The "sullying" of a pure person is one such example of a trope one often finds in news, where scandals hit people who were otherwise considered "pure" as snow or good all around. But perhaps the sullying aspect is the switch from a universal given to an unexpected twist: I recognize that the eternal I once assumed in someone is really constant change, and the change I assumed excited me about someone is only a changing constant.
Tuesday, May 29, 2018
No Race!
In the evenings after work, I often do see people racing to the subway train. It's compelling to participate in the amazing race, not only because it's good for one's health, but also because it allays the fears of "falling behind" that often assail people in the big cities. I have to say that recently, I have taken to walking more quickly in public spaces, simply because it gives me a more vigorous approach to the rush hour. I am much less tired when I use the time between places to do a bit of exercise.
I think the trick to walking fast is not to do so with any destination in mind. I manage this by getting up early to go to work, so that I am not impelled to rush when I get to the office. When I am leaving work to go to an event with volunteering or school, it's not so easy to tell if I will reach my destination on time. But at least I can tell myself that some of that "getting there" is beyond my control anyway, so it's best not to have that goal in mind so much.
Does running fast mean that it has to be a "race" to get from A to Z? This is interesting, because for me it becomes a symbol of what urban life often seems like. I have heard the expression "rat race" many times, and this evokes for me images of animals chasing each others' tales to get to the finish line or to the top of an echelon. But sooner or later, one feels the frustration of knowing that such a race has no end. I might be ahead one day (so to speak) only to find myself supplanted the next day. Perhaps the only person one can really "outdo" is oneself, and even here, one must be careful not to burn themselves out with unrealistic expectations.
I think the trick to walking fast is not to do so with any destination in mind. I manage this by getting up early to go to work, so that I am not impelled to rush when I get to the office. When I am leaving work to go to an event with volunteering or school, it's not so easy to tell if I will reach my destination on time. But at least I can tell myself that some of that "getting there" is beyond my control anyway, so it's best not to have that goal in mind so much.
Does running fast mean that it has to be a "race" to get from A to Z? This is interesting, because for me it becomes a symbol of what urban life often seems like. I have heard the expression "rat race" many times, and this evokes for me images of animals chasing each others' tales to get to the finish line or to the top of an echelon. But sooner or later, one feels the frustration of knowing that such a race has no end. I might be ahead one day (so to speak) only to find myself supplanted the next day. Perhaps the only person one can really "outdo" is oneself, and even here, one must be careful not to burn themselves out with unrealistic expectations.
Monday, May 28, 2018
Appreciating the Spaces of Work
This evening, I did have a thought about appreciating the workplace, which stemmed from a very interesting conversation about what happens when people become aware of their death. Many people, when faced with the situation of their life ending, will stop thinking about their work. After all: one's profession is not an indispensable part of one's identity, and at the end of the day, what counts is thew way one treats people. However, I tend to feel that the workplace is a good space where a person practices how they connect with the world. When contextualized as a life activity, one's work does teach important lessons about life.
To take a simple example: doing one's task to the best of one's ability often conflicts with the injunction to be "efficient" and speedy at work. I have often experienced within myself an conflict between wanting to do a job thoroughly and being constrained by time requirements or circumstances to limit one's time spent doing the job. We have a nickname for the kind of work that is expedient yet not attentive to completeness or quality, and that is "quick and dirty". Sometimes both approaches (slow and methodical/quick and dirty) are needed depending on the situation that arises, but what happens when a person cannot decide which approach is better? It ultimately depends on the situation at hand, but what it teaches me at work is how to hold conflicting commitments about different approaches to work. There isn't a single "right answer" to how to go about doing a job, but this conflict actually matures one's thinking by showing multiple options that are available to engage a task.
Work, for me, is also a place of mental stability and anchoring. Knowing that I am needed tomorrow at my workplace gives me the opportunity to practice using mind to accomplish my tasks, and it also refines my being in the world. Had I never held a steady place of work since graduating, I may never have experienced the feelings that come with mastering certain processes or tasks. Having this anchor, like meditation, can become a very joyful experience if one is able to stop and appreciate the stability that work life affords.
Work should never only be seen "literally" as a place where, say, certain goods and services are bought and sold. This is certainly the surface meaning of work, but unless one is unequivocally passionate about a certain product, they are not going to find this product to be the final meaning of work. The meaning of work, on the contrary, is often in the relationship I have toward myself, and how I cultivate that relationship to harmonize with others.
To take a simple example: doing one's task to the best of one's ability often conflicts with the injunction to be "efficient" and speedy at work. I have often experienced within myself an conflict between wanting to do a job thoroughly and being constrained by time requirements or circumstances to limit one's time spent doing the job. We have a nickname for the kind of work that is expedient yet not attentive to completeness or quality, and that is "quick and dirty". Sometimes both approaches (slow and methodical/quick and dirty) are needed depending on the situation that arises, but what happens when a person cannot decide which approach is better? It ultimately depends on the situation at hand, but what it teaches me at work is how to hold conflicting commitments about different approaches to work. There isn't a single "right answer" to how to go about doing a job, but this conflict actually matures one's thinking by showing multiple options that are available to engage a task.
Work, for me, is also a place of mental stability and anchoring. Knowing that I am needed tomorrow at my workplace gives me the opportunity to practice using mind to accomplish my tasks, and it also refines my being in the world. Had I never held a steady place of work since graduating, I may never have experienced the feelings that come with mastering certain processes or tasks. Having this anchor, like meditation, can become a very joyful experience if one is able to stop and appreciate the stability that work life affords.
Work should never only be seen "literally" as a place where, say, certain goods and services are bought and sold. This is certainly the surface meaning of work, but unless one is unequivocally passionate about a certain product, they are not going to find this product to be the final meaning of work. The meaning of work, on the contrary, is often in the relationship I have toward myself, and how I cultivate that relationship to harmonize with others.
Sunday, May 27, 2018
Heavenly Realms Revisited
Reading the Surangama Sutra chapter on Heavens, I am sometimes hard pressed to figure out how this chapter can truly be understood. For example, I am reading the line in the chapter called The Destiny Gods where it states, "Next are gods who emit light and who--as they shine upon one another with an inexhaustible brilliance-illumine their realm throughout the ten directions, turning it all to crystal." (p.379). In reading this passage, I am lead to wonder, what might these special realms look like, and what exactly is the experience to be conveyed in the sutra? It is certainly a pleasant place, but would people want to bathe in the "inexhaustible brilliance" forever?
During the discussion group, a member made the interesting observation that people in Taiwan that she knows often see Canada as a kind of paradise from a distance. The perception of Canada is that it is very affluent and affords a lot of different kinds of freedoms for people. However, what isn't mentioned in the travel brochures is that even Canadians have arguments and have their share of unhappiness. This is to say that, when taken from a distance (and compared to one's own place or origin), Canada has many opportunities, yet its people do not always enjoy a carefree lifestyle. In a sense, what one person sees as heaven is often from a distance, and it doesn't necessarily appear the same way to someone who is immersed in it. But this also has to do with how people's perspectives change when they are shifting from one environment to the other. What once seems heavenly is really only the imagined relief of one's own special kind of suffering in this moment.
During the discussion group, a member made the interesting observation that people in Taiwan that she knows often see Canada as a kind of paradise from a distance. The perception of Canada is that it is very affluent and affords a lot of different kinds of freedoms for people. However, what isn't mentioned in the travel brochures is that even Canadians have arguments and have their share of unhappiness. This is to say that, when taken from a distance (and compared to one's own place or origin), Canada has many opportunities, yet its people do not always enjoy a carefree lifestyle. In a sense, what one person sees as heaven is often from a distance, and it doesn't necessarily appear the same way to someone who is immersed in it. But this also has to do with how people's perspectives change when they are shifting from one environment to the other. What once seems heavenly is really only the imagined relief of one's own special kind of suffering in this moment.
Saturday, May 26, 2018
Open Hearted Learning
Today, during the one day meditation retreat, the theme that the facilitator was describing was about open-ness. This word translates to "open heart" or "Kai-Shi". I found that the term open heart is very interesting and appropriate especially when learning new things. Lately, I have been feeling stuck in my class, because there are times when my heart is very much open to learning, while other times, my heart shuts down a bit. Either I feel overwhelmed by the information or unable to Can one apply the principle of the open heart outside of the meditation space and into daily interactions?
I think the most important aspect in all of this is being open to pain and frustration. In learning a new concept, for example, one's previous experiences and patterns of behavior are often uprooted, and discomfort naturally arises. For me, this often takes the form of feeling that the ends are "loose" in my mind, and longing for times when my narratives are smoother and less riddled with obstacles. But what if all these obstacles precisely the means through which I learn through the frustration itself? Perhaps pain would then not be seen as detrimental to learning but might actually b a sign of learning.
We tend to associate learning with a smooth path, through metaphors such as "learning curve". I love the thrill of feeling that I have "progressed" in my learning, but I wonder if this metaphor might be challenged. Perhaps learning is not always about progress at all but rather about starts and stops, as well as unearthing painful uncertainties. Could one reframe these stuck moments as forms of learning? I think that learning needs to include stuck moments as well as epiphanies.
I think the most important aspect in all of this is being open to pain and frustration. In learning a new concept, for example, one's previous experiences and patterns of behavior are often uprooted, and discomfort naturally arises. For me, this often takes the form of feeling that the ends are "loose" in my mind, and longing for times when my narratives are smoother and less riddled with obstacles. But what if all these obstacles precisely the means through which I learn through the frustration itself? Perhaps pain would then not be seen as detrimental to learning but might actually b a sign of learning.
We tend to associate learning with a smooth path, through metaphors such as "learning curve". I love the thrill of feeling that I have "progressed" in my learning, but I wonder if this metaphor might be challenged. Perhaps learning is not always about progress at all but rather about starts and stops, as well as unearthing painful uncertainties. Could one reframe these stuck moments as forms of learning? I think that learning needs to include stuck moments as well as epiphanies.
Friday, May 25, 2018
Spirituality of J.S. Mill
I remember years ago in undergraduate philosophy, reading a small book called On Liberty by John Stewart Mill. I remarked to one of my friends how inspiring this book was to me, at which point my friend asked me what on earth I was thinking. Isn't Mill rather "utilitarian"? Why would Mill of all people be so inspiring?
Looking back on it, I don't think it was Mill's political philosophy that inspired me so much as his implicit spiritual approach to life. Mill was writing at a time when a lot of theories of morality were deontological, or essentially "duty" based. Mill heralded a liberal approach to morality by suggesting that it's not duty that united human beings together in the same cause, but rather the wish to preserve and maximize the most pleasure for the most people. I realize that this is a crude rendering of a complex philosophy, and Mill offered a more nuanced rendition of what utilitarianism means, suggesting that there are even "scales" of moral goods that are based on the relative benefits of certain kinds of activities and pursuits. Nobody could ever accuse Mill of being a hedonist, since he did support the idea of delaying gratification in the pursuit of the highest goods in life. However, the radical departure of Mill from his philosophical contemporaries may very well have been his assertion that morals are not duties imposed on people from some heaven above, but are reflections of the deepest aspirations, hopes and wishes of people. Justice is a seeking of maximizing the collective gain of a diverse group of people.
Mill respected diversity of opinion, in part because he was aware that having more inputs can actually strengthen and broaden a person's initial argument. I suspect that what Mill was defending was a more inquiry based way to craft arguments: looking at the other side is a way of deepening one's own argument. But what I respect here is the spiritual approach of allowing others to have their own sense of meaning. Sometimes, if we are very determined to understand something, we are actually trying to assimilate the other's perspective into our own. What if those perspectives are not commensurate at all? If I look at it from a utilitarian perspective, the only way to balance these very divergent possibilities is through allowing everyone to pursue their own special good in life. I may not agree with the goods that you are pursuing (because they are not commensurate with mine), but what I can agree with is that your good doesn't have to be mine, and vice versa. This is a refreshing space which in fact allows people to simply pursue their projects mutually, without a pressure to completely "agree" on everything. There is a space where people honor each other including their disagreements.
Today, I heard an interesting and funny story about a musical group, Beautiful South, who announced that they were breaking up due to "musical similarities". I laughed when I read this. It's ironic, but is it not what often happens? It's not that people in a group disband because they are too "similar" but rather because they assume that they are supposed to be similar (by default or by association), so there is a tendency to become frustrated when the other person doesn't match one's expectations (or projections). In those moments, it's possible to adopt a Mill perspective, which is to remember that people, no matter how similar, are often complexly different, and complicatedly so. In this way, one can also remember that this difference is what fills people with a sense of mystery, and that mystery is truly precious, not to be taken for granted. Mill's utilitarianism seems "utilitarian", but to what extent is his vision of incommensurate "pleasures" a veiled spiritual vision of alterity and seeing the other as not an appendage of the "self"?
Looking back on it, I don't think it was Mill's political philosophy that inspired me so much as his implicit spiritual approach to life. Mill was writing at a time when a lot of theories of morality were deontological, or essentially "duty" based. Mill heralded a liberal approach to morality by suggesting that it's not duty that united human beings together in the same cause, but rather the wish to preserve and maximize the most pleasure for the most people. I realize that this is a crude rendering of a complex philosophy, and Mill offered a more nuanced rendition of what utilitarianism means, suggesting that there are even "scales" of moral goods that are based on the relative benefits of certain kinds of activities and pursuits. Nobody could ever accuse Mill of being a hedonist, since he did support the idea of delaying gratification in the pursuit of the highest goods in life. However, the radical departure of Mill from his philosophical contemporaries may very well have been his assertion that morals are not duties imposed on people from some heaven above, but are reflections of the deepest aspirations, hopes and wishes of people. Justice is a seeking of maximizing the collective gain of a diverse group of people.
Mill respected diversity of opinion, in part because he was aware that having more inputs can actually strengthen and broaden a person's initial argument. I suspect that what Mill was defending was a more inquiry based way to craft arguments: looking at the other side is a way of deepening one's own argument. But what I respect here is the spiritual approach of allowing others to have their own sense of meaning. Sometimes, if we are very determined to understand something, we are actually trying to assimilate the other's perspective into our own. What if those perspectives are not commensurate at all? If I look at it from a utilitarian perspective, the only way to balance these very divergent possibilities is through allowing everyone to pursue their own special good in life. I may not agree with the goods that you are pursuing (because they are not commensurate with mine), but what I can agree with is that your good doesn't have to be mine, and vice versa. This is a refreshing space which in fact allows people to simply pursue their projects mutually, without a pressure to completely "agree" on everything. There is a space where people honor each other including their disagreements.
Today, I heard an interesting and funny story about a musical group, Beautiful South, who announced that they were breaking up due to "musical similarities". I laughed when I read this. It's ironic, but is it not what often happens? It's not that people in a group disband because they are too "similar" but rather because they assume that they are supposed to be similar (by default or by association), so there is a tendency to become frustrated when the other person doesn't match one's expectations (or projections). In those moments, it's possible to adopt a Mill perspective, which is to remember that people, no matter how similar, are often complexly different, and complicatedly so. In this way, one can also remember that this difference is what fills people with a sense of mystery, and that mystery is truly precious, not to be taken for granted. Mill's utilitarianism seems "utilitarian", but to what extent is his vision of incommensurate "pleasures" a veiled spiritual vision of alterity and seeing the other as not an appendage of the "self"?
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