Quest Narrative in Razor's Edge

 Larry Darrell in Maugham's Razor's Edge is an enigmatic figure. Perhaps it is best described as a seeker who has a journey that cannot be foretold. Instead of settling down to a respectable job and marriage, he chooses instead to "loaf" in Paris. And it is here that we have a quest narrative quite different from one in which Fate (or destiny) is clearly set out (as in the two paths, virtue and pleasure, that Heracles needs to choose from). It is none other than the quest for a path itself, which makes this quest somewhat of a meta-narrative on the nature of quests themselves.

   I truly believe that this novel is a post-structural one, whose protagonist is similar to Walker Percy's protagonists-- many of whom are "loafers" in their own right. These stories contain a void or a blank space in their center, and it's for the readers to puzzle on where that blank space points to. I wouldn't exactly say that these characters are "anti-heroes" since calling them as such creates only an antithesis to a worn formula: instead, I would think of them as characters looking for the path to story, yet questioning the very foundation of the path itself. Larry is offset by the sight of dead bodies in the war he survived, but this sight could be something else--the sight of someone succumbing to an illness, for example. The point is that the death he witnesses during the war points to a void that can't be storied. It takes him beyond the point of story--since stories themselves somehow require the consolation (and security) of a path well-trodden and guaranteed to take us somewhere, to not be too abrupt as to end too soon, and to "teach us all a lesson", as it were.

    At that point, it doesn't matter whether Larry finds the path, as his realization truly is that there is no path. But this is not the end of this novel, only its starting point, as characters come to terms with his realization in different ways. And it is certainly a reminder that one person's stark realization impacts the social mannerisms of a well-trodden world.

A View of Medicine and Life

 If I were to organize my book collection and try to read them all in sequence, what sequence would it be? Would it be from easiest to hardest? Fiction first, then non-fiction? The way I think about reading these days is thematically. I often use fiction to find themes that are worthy of exploration or might be of value. One way of doing this is to cross-reference different books with similar themes, similar to a kind of research project?

    I have three books on my shelf that could qualify under a single "theme", namely health and illness. Two are fiction, two non-fiction. The two non-fiction are Michel Foucault's The Birth of the Clinic, and Aledander & Selesnick's The History of Psychiatry. The two fiction books are Thomas Mann's Magic Mountain, and Albert Camus' The Plague. I can think of a lot of themes that can arise from reading these books together. But themes always arise from questions. For instance, what is the relationship between "physical" and "mental" disease? How did the idea of the body as "ill" emerge and evolve into the idea of mind as "ill"? What does the metaphor of illness entail? Can the mind's (and spirit's) illness be reduced to a spatial body, or does it have its own special categories? How can we observe mental illness, and when did it ever become something to be observed? These books also make me think about the birth of the idea of health. They also make me wonder, at what point did the concept of wellness shift from something that is spiritual to something that can be cured using drugs and other chemicals? Perhaps there is no straightforward answers to these questions and they may reflect trends in the way that histories might experience health.

   Thematically arranging books can help ensure focus as well as a more connected reading experience. It avoids the pitfalls of too much idiosyncrasy in reading. I believe that it's a good approach to start the reading adventure.

Life as Cinema

 The players in this cinema do look more real than this bundle of impressions within. They speak, but they speak from a unified place. I can identify their bodies as distinctly real. And when I look in the mirror, I can see that there is this body that can be said to put together all the various impressions. Without that sense of the body, one might not feel so real.

   But when I start to recognize that I am not a single body experience--I am the sum of all these impressions, not just the body--then I stop trying so hard to control what happens to the body, knowing that I am not the body. This is something of a relief! Spending all my time taking care of a body that is bound to suffer the bouts of decay, illness, tiredness, etc. can be a draining experience, and can at times lead to a sense of defeat. So the idea that I am not my body is quite liberating in itself.

    But this would not mean that I neglect the body. Instead, it becomes a tool. I use that tool to be able to get things done and to work, but it's not something I need assign success/failure to. In this sense, I can let go of the egoic attachment to the body.

Breathing Space

 I decided to finish two out of my three lesson plans tonight, before the weekend started. This planning certainly helped me to feel less overwhelmed and more of a sense of release--the sense that I can indeed take a break over the weekend, aside from my regular teaching. I start to reflect: it's only when a person is occupied that they truly appreciate times when they are not occupied. Maintaining that balance between "occupied" and "free" is like the two parts of breath: inhaling and exhaling. These rhythms are homeostatic, and they are somehow mutually indispensable.

    I feel gratitude when I am tired in this way--it's not a tiredness that comes from weariness, but one that comes from being rightly occupied, or occupied in the (hopefully productive) service of others. And although I struggle with always having energy to do so, I remind myself of times when I wasn't so engaged, and it seems that I do prefer this life. Belonging is a human need, and I can only hope that those who suffer loss of employment during the pandemic can feel belonging of some kind, as well as engagement. I do feel that it is a necessity. But, I also remind myself that there is room for much needed rest.

Accessibility To Meditate

 More than anything, what I have been trying to do with my research is to make meditation accessible to teachers, regardless of their situation or what kinds of pressures they go through. I sometimes feel disappointed that I may not make the desired impact in my study--since I don't think I have the power to make teachers love meditation or do it frequently. But, what I want to do is to inspire curiosity and to help teachers become better equipped to use meditation to calm their minds before assessing student writing. This "making accessible" requires making meditation feel enjoyable.

   I personally find myself rushed to take on many things. But it is precisely for this reason that I am able to empathize with those who are squeezed for time. Even tonight, I felt the pressure to try to complete many evaluations and assessments. But I also feel that there needs to be time out-- a space for inner reflection, at the very least--which people tend to take for granted. Centering not only releases stress but it also allows for meaning construction: a chance, that is, to regroup and see what is most significant or meaningful. If one is always in a rush, there is simply no time to feel--not only to feel one's own body but also to feel what is meaningful to that person. What resonates with me? Where do I locate myself in all these changing scenes and events? I believe that it is only in the process of centering that such kind of meaning can surface at all.

Life's Accounts

  Karma has sometimes been compared to the notion of keeping score of one's pluses and minuses. I recall reading that in Muslim culture, there is a similar notion of Allah weighing the positives as opposed to the negatives of one's behavior. I believe that even the ancient Greek concept of the afterlife has harbored a similar idea. It makes sense to say that one's good deeds should outweigh their bad deeds, but I wonder if there could be an algorithm as comprehensive enough to sum up all of a person's deeds, inactions and "misdeeds". What would such a computer look like? Of course, the idea itself is a thought: it comes and goes, depending on how dedicated we try to be toward it.

   Working on my thesis feels to me this way. I look at the thing one day and it looks okay, but then reading another article makes me want to tweak it to make it better. I shape and tweak it until I feel that I have satisfied someone's requirements--ideally, the person in my head who I feel is qualified to speak about it and assess its total quality. But in the end, it doesn't feel that this thesis, or any writing for that matter, ever really finishes. It's meant to be a little bit asymmetrical in relation to its original intent and goal: a surprise, even to its creator. But without surprises, the creation is a little bit pointless. I create in order to fundamentally surprise myself through the learning. If I had the thesis all in my head before writing it down, how surprising would that be to me, and how would it constitute the adventure that comes from inquiry and creation? In situations like these, I can't really resort to an accounting metaphor, because what I put into it should (hopefully) not equal what comes out.

  If all one had to do was to contribute "good balances" into the account of life, there would not only be little purpose, but also little room for expansion and surprise. I often do things not because I have determined them to be good --at least not yet, anyway--but because they give me room to breathe and advance a little so that I can see and discover new things in myself. So I didn't embark on this project simply to gain merit, or bring it to others, but to see what's possible by extending myself a bit. Some of what's possible might be downright useless or bad, but there is a risk of that which comes from acting and being both a creator and someone being created by things outside me. But I consider this to be the miraculous thing about learning; it's value is never fully disclosed but always being revealed in the moment.

Issues and Stuff

 I have recently begun to take on a project management role for a journal devoted to Surangama Sutra.  My volunteer role in this capacity is to make sure that the other volunteers are submitting their translations or edits in a timely manner and are not falling behind. As I was organizing a spreadsheet devoted to keeping track of the volunteers and what they are doing, I noticed that the word "Issue" refers to both a periodical number (an index, as it were) and could also refer to a problem. How are these two terms connected? Recently, the term "has issues" is taken to mean a person who has a lot of neuroses or inner conflicts. But issue could also, quite simply, refer to a matter for study or deliberation. Thus, an issue usually refers to a volume of work that deals thematically with a certain topic, approaching it from a variety of angles and slants.

  I tend to prefer to think of issues as things deserving of attention, rather than things desperately in need of "fixing". While the latter might be true of many things (including climate issues that we currently face), I think that it's preferable to see human issues as things in need of multiple conversations and viewpoints. To see someone as having "issues" is sometimes a kind of disparagement of the person which hardly does justice to the opportunities that the person does have. But because having issues sounds too much like having problems or difficulties (which we are somehow not supposed to have), there is more of a tendency to feel shame around this and to present a veneer of not having any challenges to face. But issues instead could be exactly like magazine "special" issues: a topic that can be explored using an inquiring mind. I tend to prefer this latter approach, but I am finding that the word itself is veering more toward something to react to or to fix.