Facing Time Well, Coming Full Circle

 I sometimes want to return to things that seemed difficult in the past, to see if we can face it better now. This is a kind of trick that the mind plays, and it's often based on an idea that I am making progress in some way, and want to prove to ourselves that we have. But what is progress after all? We may have changed our circumstances over the years but we may not understand how we arrived in the places that we have.

   One of the difficulties that comes with going back to my old school (York) was/is in realizing that the function of the university is to create and foster original thinking. But the difficulty and struggle with that is knowing that originality is extremely hard to come by, and takes a lot of inspiration. I do remember "plugging away" at the essays, yet somehow everything just seemed like an assignment of sorts; I don't recall being able to gauge whether I truly had progressed in my knowledge or understanding of things. There is always a question there, like: did I create what I was "meant to" create? Or is there something missing that I need to go back and finish? And the more I reflect on that, the more the mind goes around in circles. Had I majored in Computer Science, for instance, perhaps this would not have even occurred to me, but I happened to major in an area that is so vast in scope and range that I can no longer even place or define myself within it.

   I think it's important to think of the experience as one of tension. I want to enjoy, but I am needing to create; I want to learn but I need to extend my learning, not just passively reproduce what has been learned already. I should respect the rules of my discipline, but later be open to creating new rules. And finally, all this book learning does need to go out somewhere into a community. But I think that this struggle plays out in everyday life as well, and as long as we are becoming comfortable with that tension and see myself as "someone who (actively) thinks", then I will not worry about being pacified by the professors or books around me. And I will always remember that knowledge is not something that is pre-given but has to be fought over and wrested with.

York Days

  Going back to York University to attend a conference, I felt a sense of nostalgia, but also the sense that no matter what kind of a student I was, I was always curious. I had a love and delight in all kinds of books (literature and philosophy especially) and I still remember the times when I mounted the escalator, excitedly going forth to explore the plethora of books that were waiting for me. 

    The arts--what can I make of it? Going to York was about exploring the arts. Literature, linguistics humanities, philosophy, history, even psychotherapy--there were so many things that I enjoyed about my life at York, but most of all was the love of exploring new theories and worlds, trying to get a handle on what life "means" but realizing that there are so many refracted mirrors and lenses that tell completely different stories about the whole experience.

   I don't know if I am a "scholar" per se, and I am not sure if I was able to fully actualize my ambitions. But the important thing is that I was enjoying myself in a more basic way than what I could have put into words: the experience itself of being on campus and wrestling with different ideas, actually was underpinned by a sense of stillness, which I can only describe as a contemplative enjoyment. However, in my effort to try to grasp things at the time or become something amidst all these ideas, I had lost sight of the joy I experienced in those years. This reminds me of Adyashanti's teaching that we must try to find the stillness that is already inherent to every moment: the stillness that is even embedded in struggle, anxiety and conflict. It seems that I had to learn these things long after I graduated from York University, only to revisit it with fresh eyes that was able to contemplate me as truly belonging in that campus, even when I wasn't necessarily being recognized academically or in a scholarly way.

Self grasping

"Absolutist notions cannot stand up to scrutiny by reasoning because they are antithetical to the fact that everything exists by depending on other factors" (p.229, Dalai Lama & Chodron, Searching for the Self)

    Inherent existence and its notion can be quite tricky, and it sometimes seems difficult to quite get the idea. While trying to deny the essentialist notion of an absolute soul or spirit, I wonder how it's possible to avoid the other extreme of nihilism. I would like to venture a few points here.

   Self-grasping can be subtle, and can take the form of believing in one's own narrative. Even the simple idea of a feeling state (sadness, for example) can be quickly transformed into the idea of an "I" as a sad person, which in turn projects this idea into the future and even into space itself. Sadness is seen as something graspable, when in fact it was only really starting a sensation, only to later be endowed with perceptions, interpretations and language. By the time anything even gets to the level of language, there is already a sense of it being a kind of thing, rather than simply a process or a set of conditions that come together in a certain way.

   I wonder if there is any way that we can live without these reified ideas, but it would be absurd to try not to use conceptualizations. I think the important point is not to confuse the "map" with the "territory". It can be a real source of suffering to try to get rid of language and narrative, and sometimes these things can be fun to work with and great ways to communicate with people. As Adyashant notes in his book Falling into Grace, language becomes more like a playful interaction than anything else, especially when we realize that language doesn't point to concrete experiences at all: language is always signifying things that have already passed and are being summarized by the brain through the filter of concepts.

   In fact, there is no need to get rid of delusions if we know that they are delusions, and in fact this reduces the power to be attracted to them. On the other hand, trying to rid the mind of delusions is like trying to empty the contents of a dream: it reinstates delusion as having some substantial nature which it actually lacks, just as a phantom limb or a nerve pain sends signals to the brain without referring to an actual object of pain.

Finding Light in the Mundane

 Sometimes when we are not looking too closely at the details, we can see the intention. I recognized recently how even when I am lost, there is some part of me that is somehow reaching for the light, just the same way that a plant gropes past the rocks into the sunlight. It reminds me of an idea from St Augustine--namely, that there is no such thing as "evil", only a kind of misplaced good or ideal that might just happened to be channeled into something worldly but is always somewhere in the spirit realm.

   One can interpret all activity in a worldly or a spiritual sense. If I am interpreting my behaviors only as impure or "of the world", I miss out on the underlying spiritual aspirations. Something as simple as gardening, for example, may be seen dismissively (perhaps) as "digging in the dirt" or only in terms of planting vegetables and flowers, but on another level, it could represent and embody many spiritual aspirations. We see this symbolically in the form of "planting karmic seeds" in Buddhism, but also in the way that cultivation embodies the principles of cause/condition, impermanence, dependent origination and so on. Gardening is one concrete way of realizing such kinds of principles. What I am trying to argue here is that even the most mundane experiences could, when looked at deeply, be interpreted in a spiritual sense as long as one is willing to use their imagination to seek something below the surfaces.

  This makes me wonder whether everything could potentially be a spiritual practice. I believe so, if pursed with the correct and proper attitude. But perhaps the biggest habit I should engage in is to see how deep down, sentient beings want to find the light.

Kindness or Knowledge?

  One thing I have observed in myself recently is that I judge myself for not having a lot to say on topics that interest my friends. I will often accuse myself of being vacuous or simply not having the same concern for things that others do. But I have begun to wonder, what is more important: being knowledgeable or being kind? Can one be kind without being knowledgeable about topics that concern others? 

   We even have a term called knowledge economy, which suggests that knowledge is what drives us, but we have hardly heard of the term "heart economy" or "kindness economy". Is this perhaps because we don't think that kindness contributes to our world as much as knowledge does? I think, to the contrary, that kindness can allow us to be more present toward the other and find a common ground even when another person does not share the same interests as we do. After all, the term "kind" seems to derive from "kindred" which suggests a kind of innate link that we have with others. 

  Sometimes, I have to have faith that simply being present is enough to help another heal in deep ways, which transcends the idea that interactions are only about knowledge exchanges.

Showing Up for the Unexpected

    I sometimes marvel at the ways in which the mind creates its own shackles or "hells". Old unpleasant memories are experienced "anew", under the often mistaken assumption that they will generally recur again and again. Yes, it recurs, as long as we remember it, but is it necessary for it to happen in this same way? We can never tell, and each experience is subject to causes and conditions that are unique to itself, and which simply cannot be recreated.

   When the mind is open and truly authentic, not giving into the false desires to please others and be recognized, then there is this still and quiet peace that is beyond striving itself. It can be found everywhere, even in the deepest state of boredom, depression or anxiety, if only we can inhabit those feelings rather than push them away. Yet--and here is the paradox again--that stillness does not actually reside in any form, or in any emotion. The stillness comes from the simple act of allowing whatever arises to stay in mind, knowing that the mind is not subject to the fluctuations of desire and phenomena. This is where we can be nonjudgmental, because we are no longer subject to fluctuating emotions based on the external conditions.

  An important aspect of being present for the unexpected is that we learn not to "expect" secretly: that is, the unexpected is not something surprising or magical. It's just the reality of emptiness--the fact that we are not in control of what will happen and cannot predict what will happen in the future. In this way, we can truly be available for whatever happens without an attitude of trying to fix on what will happen using our previous memories to guide us. We are simply allowing things to be exactly as they are, to unfold exactly as we expect them to unfold.

Face Saving

 It's evident that face is an important aspect of one's self-esteem. But as I mentioned in the meditation group tonight, I wonder if all the face saving we do is just a farce to show the fact that we believe in a permanent self. But if I am able to recognize that my mistakes are temporary, and develop the proper contrition about them, then there is no need to dwell on face at all. The feeling of dwelling on self is replaced with a strong desire to change and fix one's behaviors so that they can avoid making the same mistakes again.

   Face is tricky because it is always based on something we already did in the past. Past is past, though, and whatever conditions lead up to the current, these two will pass again. So when we base our current image of ourselves on something past, we are missing the chance to take action in the present and maximize our being in the world. It's much better to review what one has done and ask the question, "What can I do better next time? How might my past failures be an impetus for me to do so much better in the future, to become a better me?"