Phronema

The more I think about it the more I come to realise the importance of LeDoux’s theory of the emotions being hardwired into the amygdala.* We are led by our feelings. Normally we respond to the tasks that have to be done – job, looking after children etc. In my case, with the whole day in front of me, I have to set myself tasks. I write in the morning and, in theory, walk, or garden and do reading and research in the afternoon and evenings. Whether I do any or all of these depends on my mood. And so I often arrive, as this morning, with a feeling of having wasted the last few days and accomplished nothing. This tends to lead to a feeling of depression – that my life is non-eventful and nothing is being achieved, that my life now has no meaning, that I am wasting my time etc., etc.; a general feeling of uselessness and purposelessness.

All this went through my mind this morning during meditation. I had just been reading Kadowaki on karma and sunyata (emptiness). One reads ideas but one is very slow to see how these ideas might exist in the reality of one’s own life. I think I am still too much of an idealist, in the Platonic, or Hegelian sense – that power does reside in the conscious mind, if only one can learn how to access it. I now realise that a) the conscious mind has no control over the emotions and b) that emotions and feelings shape the what, the how and the meaning we attach to living. All the conscious mind can do is to choose to ignore or to go along with the push and pull of the emotions. I see I am being very Platonic here in assuming a tripartite structure in the mind. I am not sure how independent the will is of he emotions.

Previously I had gone along with Freud and Jung and accepted that the unconscious is the repository of unwanted, or too-uncomfortable-to-bear emotions and memories. I thought that all one had to do was allow these to be aired, look at them objectively in the light of day, and their power to hurt, or to control would be dissipated. I think this may be true for memories. I know that in meditation allowing forgotten memories to come to the surface and dissipate robs them of their power to hurt. I had thought that this then gave control over that particular feeling, be it anger, or hate, or lust, or whatever. I now see that is not the case. Memories can be healed but the feelings are still there, autonomous and powerful. Given the appropriate stimulus they will be triggered with all their power. If one doesn’t want the feelings then one has to avoid the stimuli – what in traditional spirituality used to be called the occasions of sin. This has all sorts of drawbacks. I remember an old monk telling me that whenever he went out he had either to wear his habit or a dog-collar. He didn’t trust himself not to do something sinful otherwise. So avoiding the occasions of sin may help avoid sin but it does not help one to grow, to become integrated and whole.

I am beginning to understand what Zen calls the Great Death. In meditation one is face to face with naked feelings. Because there is no escape into day-dreaming, or ratiocination, the impact of feelings can be very powerful and often make the continuing of meditation impossible, or seem to be impossible. Not to go along with their impulse, simply to sit, focused on awareness of the body and all that it is feeling, is like dying. One is detached from the body in the sense that one is not responding to instinctive impulses, and yet totally attached in the sense that the body is the focus of awareness. Then, in this attached detachment, aware of bodily and mental limits as limits, the possibility of a beyond all limits arises.

*http://www.cns.nyu.edu/ledoux/

Reading Kadowaki: Zen and the Bible* on the similarity between Zen and Christianity. He compares the Buddhist ‘elusive passion’ (klesa) with the effects of original sin. As an aside he says that original sin cannot be known from experience. It is a datum of revelation. He goes on to say that man went against what he was originally meant to be. All this I find surprising and hard to accept now, though once I took it all uncritically. Many questions come to mind. How can one know what was ‘originally meant to be’? Even if one accepts the original paradisical situation of man as a revelation of what God intended can one go on to say that its passive, non-self-conscious existence was God’s final intention for man? Surely the state of ‘original sin’ is no more than the alienation which must inevitably result from individual self-consciousness. Again we come back to the question of what it means to be a human person.

*Kadowaki, J. K., Zen and the Bible: A Priest’s Experience, Routledge, London 1980

Reading William Johnston on the Dark Nights* – it is interesting how much John of the Cross has to say about sexuality. I would like to read more on the psychology and the philosophy of sex, not Freudian stuff, but something more balanced. There is no doubt that it is something that goes right to the very depths of the psyche. It is more, far more, than a mere biological function. It has to do with identity but it also has to do with how we relate. Identity, in that we are all sexual persons and our sexuality determines the mode in which we relate to others and to life itself. Pornography and rape are symptoms of a sense of isolation such that only through fantasy or violence can the person concerned try to achieve a feeling of union or completeness but, because of the nature of violence and fantasy, this is forever frustrated. Philanderers, I suppose, are people who find mere sexuality unsatisfactory and are either trying to make up for lack of content through sheer volume, or are seeking the ultimate union.

Whatever, our sexuality both opens up our yawning incompleteness and points a way towards fulfilment. We are, however, such complex beings that achieving the balance of body, mind and spirit is very difficult. Any overemphasis in a single dimension can lead to disastrous consequences. It is interesting that William Johnston, following John of the Cross holds that sexuality has a spiritual dimension and in mystical experience this is transformed. This is quite counter to the traditional Western and Eastern Orthodox traditions which rigorously exclude any form of sexual expression, going so far on Mt. Athos, for example, as to forbid even female animals. Is it the case that so powerful are sexual feelings that it is felt the only way they can be controlled is to exclude them totally? Not healthy. In the East there has always been a tradition which focused on the spiritual dimension in sexuality – Kundalini in Hinduism and Tantric Yoga in Buddhism. I think the West has always looked slightly askance at these as though people were trying to have their cake and eat it too. On the other hand celibacy and contemplation do go together remarkably well and in all traditions a celibate religious life has an honoured place. Perhaps the Indian tradition has the right balance with its four ages. In the first two sexuality finds its full physical and emotional expression in love, marriage and bringing up a family. In later life, when the children have become independent, the person turns towards contemplation, withdrawing more and more from involvement with others. In any case it is a topic that needs exploring and certainly forms a major part of what it means to be human.

*William Johnston, Mystical Theology: The Science of Love, Harper Collins, London 1995

Came across a definition of dharma which suddenly illuminated it. The trouble with dharma is that it is one these multi-faceted terms which one thinks one has grasped but, in truth, has not. Picked up The World of Buddhism in the library. Richard Gombrich in the Introduction defines it as at once the way things are and the way things have to be; ultimately these two have to coincide. It can also mean phenomenon, law, the Buddha’s teaching. These last I knew, but it was Gombrich’s explanation which clarified much that I had been mulling over in my mind. Why, for example, ethical behaviour is of absolute importance. Why there is the tension between what is and what would be. It is similar to the idea of Natural Law. Once again it points out the parallels between Buddhism and Christianity. The way things are is the world of samsara, of original sin. The way things have to be is what Bhuddhists would call Buddha nature and Paul would call ‘living according to the Spirit’.

To be a human person means that one has been formed and shaped by human relationships, that relationships are the most meaningful thing in a person’s life, that personal fulfilment is only achieved through coming to know one’s relationship with Ultimate Reality. Anything that deifies the individual, absolutises him, elevates him above other individuals is unethical. It is acting contrary to one’s true nature. A saint is no more than a person who is fully human, who lives his humanity to the full.

I am almost finished reading Evolving the Mind by A.G. Cairns-Smith. It is subtitled ‘on the nature of matter and the origin of consciousness’. It is probably the best book I have read yet on consciousness. Certainly he seems to have read all the relevant literature and thought deeply about it. A lot of the maths and the physics I do not understand and never will. It is quite clear that we are a long, long way from understanding what consciousness is. We know a great deal about the working of the brain and there is no doubt that quantum effects are involved but we have not the faintest idea how the electro-chemical stimulation of the visual cortex is translated into a beautiful sunset. I will carry on with the reading but I am becoming more certain that the intellectual approach is not going to deliver the goods.

The fact that the cosmos is more akin to an organism than a mechanism is mind-boggling; that there is some sort of (‘awareness’ is perhaps not quite the right word) instant communication pervading it; that every event is a cosmic event and not just a local happening; that mind and observation are essential elements in it – all this is not just of scientific interest but of profound religious significance too. In the human sphere we are becoming more aware that every human action has ramifications going far beyond the individuals concerned. It is becoming more and more clear that ‘No man is an Island, entire of it self.’ is true. Donne is quite right. The ironical thing about these insights is that they are being made at a time of unparalleled individualism, perhaps in reaction to a perceived threat to individualism. No, it must be more than that. In reaction, yes, but to a whole complexity of things – population pressure, competition for resources, death of community, materialism. Modern life has become incredibly complex and this complexity demands vast material and financial resources. It brings great benefits, enormous benefits. Here I am, listening to music on my stereo, writing on a powerful computer, able to be in touch with others all over the world almost instantaneously through the Internet, able to eat strawberries in winter and apples in summer should I wish, still alive because medical interventions twice prevented me from dying. I do not have to fear going hungry or being cold in the winter. Yet these are bought at a price. When I was young stress was a word applied to materials under tension, now it has become an almost universal human condition. Life with free and uncluttered time to perceive and enjoy the beauty of the world and people, this has now become a rarity and it does not seem to be compatible with modern living.