Archive for April, 2008

Interconnectedness

Friday, April 4th, 2008

I came across an article on pratityasamutpada  (dependent arising) and consciousness today. The whole article is an exploration of the idea –

There is a growing consensus in Western thought and science that we may understand ourselves and our world more deeply if we think in terms of patterns of relationships rather than of reified essences or independent entities—if we think, that is, in the traditional Buddhist terms of dependent arising.*

He concludes

Our shared world, then, dependent upon our shared species-specific cognitive structures, is ultimately inseparable from our shared cognitive awareness, dependent upon our shared linguistic, symbolic structures. As Deacon declares: a person’s symbolic experience of consciousness…is not within the head…This [symbolic] self is indeed not bounded within a mind or body…[it] is intersubjective in the most thoroughgoing sense of the term. [Deacon, T.W. 1997. The Symbolic Species: The Co-evolution of Language and the Brain, New York: W.W. Norton & Co.]

I have a feeling that this sharing includes far more than symbolic experience and that it is more than just consciousness, though that is complex enough. We are neither reified essences, nor independent entities. Use of the word ‘soul’ to signify the essential person does not help here – though it has a long tradition. We are like those plants, nettles are a good example, which above ground appear as individual but below spring from the same complex root system. At the conscious level we speak and interact as individuals, free to engage or to disengage with each other, free to help or to hurt, to love or to hate, unaware that at deeper levels we are all members one of another. We do not realize that in hurting, hating, or damaging others we are also damaging ourselves. And conversely, the good we do to others benefits us too. 

However, the plant analogy only goes so far. The dimensions of human interconnectivity and intersubjectivity are many and various – some conscious, many unconscious; some material and physical, many relational and psychological. There is also a transcendent dimension. This is not part of our experience (at least at a conscious level), just as much of our interconnectivity is not experienced at a conscious level. As someone once said, ‘The Unconscious is not unconscious, only the Conscious is unconscious of what the Unconscious is conscious of.’

 We are somehow aware that there is vastly more to being human than we can ever explain or articulate. And this more is the fact that our being is confined neither to the mind, nor to the body. It emerges from and extends into the being of others, as does theirs into ours. It is rooted deep in the elements of nature, the soil and the landscape, the sun and the stars. Deepest of all, deep, deep within, is the Spirit. 

* The dependent arising of a cognitive unconscious in Buddhism and science, W. S. Waldron Dept of Religion, Middlebury College, Middlebury, VT 05753, USA. 

Tonglen

Thursday, April 3rd, 2008

I came across the Tibetan Buddhist practice of tonglen (Tonglen – Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia the other day and have been profoundly struck by it. I must have encountered it before but I cannot remember. Obviously it did not particularly strike me then. Things have changed. For a start I am much more aware of what is going on in the world, especially the suffering of others in places like Palestine and Iraq, and of the callous injustice and ruthless exploitation by rich and powerful countries and corporations. Paradoxically, the more one withdraws into solitude and prayer the more one feels oneself to be at the heart of things. It always struck me as odd that in the Eucharist all the emphasis is placed on communion with Christ and none, or almost none, on our (by virtue of our joint participation) union with each other. As far as I am aware theistic mystical experience is bipolar, operating in a vertical dimension only. It does not include the experience of communion with others in Christ. Why? And yet, what is the experience of the impulse to practice tonglen if not a sense of union with others?

Transcendence

Wednesday, April 2nd, 2008

There was an email from — this morning. He wonders what it is that I am writing about, whether it is human experience. All my thoughts centre on the fact that there is a transcendental dimension to human experience. Many, maybe the majority, I don’t know, live their lives without any apparent awareness of this dimension. As a consequence death, for all practical purposes, really is the end of life. Therefore their happiness is invested in their relationships and in material things. Which is fine for many. They live happy and fulfilled lives. They have constructed a human world where science and technology have improved the quality of life beyond the wildest imaginings of previous generations. At a price. We have also, to use a phrase of Lionel Tiger’s ‘manufactured evil’,* produced a society which is toxic for millions of its members. It is damaging and destructive to the people who constitute it.  Firstly, money has become one of the most important criteria, often the deciding criterion, in decision making.  This, as Marx pointed out, means that all other criteria and values become secondary, including human ones.  This is dehumanising both for those who take advantage of the system and for those who are hurt by it. People are simply resources or commodities, expenses on the balance sheet, to be used or disposed of; their use governed by the need to make profits.  Human values, human aspirations, feelings, truth, beauty, honour, justice all these are of secondary importance if they cannot be quantified in monetary terms. 

Secondly, possessive individualism, the right of the individual, or the individual company, to do what she, he, or it likes within legal limits regardless of the social and personal consequences to others or the environment.  

Thirdly, the culture of hedonism.  This is partly the consequence of one and two.  What is money for if not to be spent for pleasure?  What is the point of individualism if you cannot do your own thing?  This cult of pleasure is given an added boost by the insecurity and fragmentation of modern society.  There is no longer such a thing as a safe job.  Redundancy can strike anyone from a vice-chairman to a machine operative and does so, frequently.  The fact that most people are heavily in debt to banks and building societies means that once these debts can no longer be serviced the individual can go from affluence to poverty overnight.  Those who have jobs find themselves under greater and greater tension as more and more is demanded of them for less and less.  Hence much frenetic pleasure seeking while it is possible. 

Fourth, unemployment and displacement.  One of the consequences of regarding people as resources and commodities to be used, bought, or dispensed with, is that the basic right to work is denied.  Both the Christian and Marxist perspectives agree that the right to work is fundamental to what it means to be human.  It is through work that we make ourselves what we are.  It is through work that we relate to the society of which we are part.  It is through work that we can transform our environment to make it a better place to live.  The type of work we do can diminish us or enhance us.  Though even when work is dehumanising and brutalising the worker is still part of the system, needed and necessary. To have no work, however, to be an asylum seeker, or a refugee, or to be so poor that each day is a precarious hand to mouth existence, is to be an outsider, to be marginalised.  It is to become, almost, a non-person.  It is to have nothing that others are willing to pay for.  It is to be nothing that others want. It is to be an encumbrance, an unwanted expense, a taker and user of resources who can give nothing in return. 

There is something very wrong, therefore, with our human world when it marginalises, dehumanises and subordinates to material factors so many of its inhabitants. And what is wrong is the fact that decision makers lack an awareness of the transcendental dimension which puts human life into a far wider context than that of the pragmatic materialist. They lack a vision of what it really means to be a human person. Lionel Tiger puts his finger on the problem – 

Why are people who are supposed to specialise in right and wrong essentially forbidden to devote their lives to gaining power in the real world?… On the other hand where ethical decisions must be taken non-stop ethically trained people are virtually non-existent. 

Like Tiger, many hold that ethics and religion are not necessarily connected and that it is possible to be a moral person without necessarily having a religious commitment. This is often true, nevertheless while Tiger, for various reasons, dispenses with this connection, religion is not so easily dismissed. Ultimately, all religions assert that there is a transcendental dimension to our human existence and that an awareness, and an understanding (in so far as this is possible) is essential if we are to define who and what we are. 

What is this transcendental dimension? Here we are faced with a paradox. On the one hand whatever transcends our experience cannot be known. It cannot be communicated to us through our senses. The transcendent cannot be seen, heard, touched or smelt.  On the other hand human history tells us that, as far back as we can go, people have been religious,** that is, in some way they have been aware of this dimension, attributing to it supreme importance. Secondly, how can this awareness of what is beyond our awareness be a (determining?) factor in what it means to be a person? There are no definitive answers to either of these questions, nor can there be, however, one can begin by exploring what is involved in them. 

For some time now I have been studying religious experience. The emphasis, unsurprisingly, has been on experience and experiences – what constitutes a religious experience? What is a mystical experience? Do mystical experiences and religious experiences differ; is one a sub-category of the other, or are they really distinct? Is there a fundamental mystical experience which is interpreted differently in various cultures and traditions? What constitutes a ‘genuine’ mystical experience? Is it distinguishable from a self, or dru
g induced experience? I could go on and on. There are a thousand questions and as many answers, some from those who have never had a mystical experience and some from genuine mystics, but there is no objective and independent criterion by which they can be judged. There can’t be. All experience is subjective but my experience of a banana, for example, is of an object which is available to the experience of others. Whereas a mystical experience  is totally subjective. It has no material or objective referent, nothing that can be shown to another, or demonstrated. Usually it cannot even be described accurately. Ineffability, as William James pointed out, is one of the characteristics of a mystical experience. 

I am coming more and more to the opinion that this focus on experiences is a blind alley. It provides rich pickings for academia, for sociologists and psychologists and there is nothing to stop a would-be guru, or teacher, or ‘master’ from setting up his own school and cultivating disciples. You only have to step into Watkins bookshop in London to see that the publishing industry is doing very well out of it all. But, for a person to make the drive for the definitive ‘experience’, for ecstasy, for union, for nirvana or whatever, is to go down the wrong road. It is to decide that you know who you are before you really know who you are, and where you are going before you know where the journey ends. It is to draw your own map and set out on a journey when there are no maps because the journey is within. The inner landscape is trackless and featureless. It is the landscape of the cloud of unknowing, of sunyata. 

[* Lionel Tiger, The Manufacture of Evil: Ethics, Evolution and the Industrial System, Marion Boyers, London 1991

** There is archaeological evidence for religious behaviour dating as far back as the Neanderthal period of human evolution. It has been conjectured that the recognition of mortality and the need to transcend it are a primary impulse toward mythology. Campbell, Joseph, Myths to Live By: how we re-create ancient legends in our daily lives to release human potential, Penguin/Arkana 1993]

Solitude

Tuesday, April 1st, 2008

I came across this which struck a chord – 

« Parfois, d’une façon soudaine, une Présence surgit à l’improviste. Les yeux extérieurs ne distinguent aucune forme. Le regard intérieur ne découvre pas de trace ».*

And also this (Merton on interior solitude) – 

And he takes upon himself the lonely, barely comprehensible, incommunicable task of working his way through the darkness of his own mystery until he discovers that his mystery and the mystery of God merge into one reality. That God lives in him and he in God – not precisely in the way that the words seem to suggest (for words have no power to comprehend the reality) but in a way that makes words, and even attempts to communicate, seem utterly illusory.

Every man is a solitary, held firmly by the inexorable limitations of his own aloneness. Death makes this very clear… Each one will have to die, and die alone. And, at the same time (but this is what they do not want to see) each one must also live alone… the wrestling with one’s solitude is also a life-work – a ‘life-agony’. When a man is called to be a solitary – (even if only interiorly) – he does not need to be anything else, nor can anything else be demanded of him except that he remain physically or spiritually alone fighting his battle which few can understand. His function in the Church – a social function and a spiritual one – is to remain in the ‘cell’ of his aloneness, whether it be a real cell in the desert, or simply the spiritual cell of his own incomprehensible emptiness; and, as the desert fathers used to say, his ‘cell will teach him all things’.**

That really struck home. The extraordinary thing, and Merton mentions this too, the more solitary you are the more you are aware of others, especially those who are suffering in places like Palestine, Iraq and Africa, the more you feel the bonds which link us all, the more prayer seems to matter.

[* http://jm.saliege.com/confdavy1.htm Marie Madeleine Davy (1903-1998) Le Desert Interieur

** Thomas Merton, Disputed Questions, Hollis and Carter, London 1961, p. 180/1]