Suffering and Death

I’ve been thinking lately about some of the great thinkers of the not too distant past and how they seem nearly obsessed with ideas of suffering and death.

First, take Arthur Schopenhauer. He was pretty sure we are all slaves to our desires and that satisfying our desires was a pretty short-lived proposition; new desires quickly appear leading to a fairly constant state of dis-satisfaction. Then there was Soren Kierkegaard who maintained despair is the rule for all men, eating away at one’s spirit causing the sickness unto death. He thought the solution was to embrace the absurd and take the leap into faith which, I must admit, makes me wonder a bit.

Friedrich Nietzsche’s writings are peppered with ideas on the topic, in part, I suspect, due to his own fairly constant physical infirmities. Rainer Maria Rilke entertained the notion that everyone carries their own Death around with them. He said that when Death’s time comes it gets to express itself in it’s own unique way. I guess no two Deaths are the same just as all people are different. Having Death as a constant companion would probably get a nod of approval from the ancient Stoics.

The Norwegians Knut Hamsun and the painter Edvard Munch, similarly, offer dark visions of man’s predicament.  Hamsun’s writings are filled with existential angst while Munch’s paintings may serve to illustrate the common neuroses of primal fears we all seem to share.

Well, I guess there is the inevitability that eventually suffering and death will occupy each and every one of us but there is the implication among some of these men that perhaps facing up to life’s travails isn’t such a bad thing. Friedrich N. famously declared: ‘That which does not kill us makes us stronger.’ I guess bearing suffering well does demand courage; you know, requires one to step up, see what one is made of and all that.  It seems like most of the suffering I bear these days has to do with minor physical infirmities and fighting myself to avoid judging some of those in the political arena.  The second of these is pretty painful.

All in all I really don’t think I need to suffer more.  I’m really quite satisfied in my contemplation s within the warmth and security of my cozy room. And I feel pretty good about myself, exercising, as best I can, compassion for those around me. As far as getting friendly with my own death goes, I think I have enough social interaction right now without her.  But, I suppose when the inevitable occurs I’ll try to face it with strength and decorum.

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Mandala Haiku

I was reading recently that the psychologist Karl Jung had his patients paint mandalas as a means of treating their various mental difficulties.
He arrived at this notion, I guess, through his identification of what he called the ‘collective unconscious’, which he thought everyone shared. The idea is that, through our evolutionary development, certain symbolic associations occur which are common to all humankind. And one of these symbols is the circle.

According to Dr. Jung, the circle or mandala form conveys a sense of wholeness or self that most everyone can relate to. By immersing themselves in constructing circular paintings, his patients’ psychic problems tended to be relieved. The formations they developed in their paintings created a sort of structure that translated into a greater personal mental stability.

I’m not sure one has to necessarily paint mandalas to benefit; eastern religions have been using circular structures as foci for meditative practices for a long time. And, I’m convinced meditation is a very beneficial endeavor. I am so sure of this I’m inspired to offer a haiku:
Attentive focus
Within the circle of self,
Clear mind, present mind.

Well, it works for me and it certainly can’t be a bad way to spend some time.

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Me, Myself and I

I’ve been thinking about my Self lately; mostly about how to reconcile the beauty and freedom of selflessness with the necessity of maintaining a healthy self-image to deal with the pressures of everyday reality. Looking to both positions seems kind of contradictory.  On the one hand, releasing attachment to the self opens awareness to full realization of the here and know in all its complexity. And, although not all one experiences is of a positive nature, un-attachment makes it possible to maintain perspective, to reach a reasonable understanding, without creating a “story line” in which “I” am the protagonist.

On the other hand, I am led to believe that without a healthy, confident self I probably won’t fare too well out in the world, socially speaking. The meek may inherit the earth, so it’s said, but in the meantime one should expect some serious bullying.  I suppose, maybe, like much else, the problem may just be a matter of degree. Perhaps the self is nothing more than the subject of the perceptions, emotions and thoughts we experience rather than the independently existent entity that leads to narcissism and tunnel vision.

As nice as it would be, intellectually (and emotionally, too), to be absolutely sure one direction is better than the other, I guess I must be content with attempting to balance the ideas. It just goes to show, I suppose, living an examined life takes some work.

me, myself and I

 

 

 

 

 

 

Compassion

I’ve been working on my compassion lately. That is, on increasing my ability to care about others. Which, for me, is no easy task; I seem naturally inclined to take offense, find fault, nitpick, make quick judgments based on appearance, you name it and I’m inclined to fit the bias.

I’m much more comfortable being alone with my thoughts and activities than I am around others, particularly when there are large numbers of others. Even around my friends there’s a limit to how long I find companionship a good thing.

Of course, I do understand, from a purely pragmatic standpoint, the need at times to stand in the presence of another sentient being or two………

But, right now my concern is compassion; I know it must be true that there is common bond among us all; we all desire happiness, to be accepted by others, even liked. And the fact that we go about achieving these ends in a lot of different ways doesn’t change the essential fact of the matter.

So, I will meditate on compassion, work to understand those I’m inclined to abhor, those who exploit others for their own selfish gain, and those who consume excessively to the detriment of the world we’re all dependent on. I’ll start by focusing on the beauty of nature, the source of our common existence. I’ll meditate on those past civilizations that have striven to raise all citizens above mean existence, fought injustice, and respected all. And, if I backslide, if my thoughts return to the anti-social, greedy and subversive I will try and remember that everyone, whether they presently realize it or not really just want the same thing I do: serene existence.

meditation mandala

Platonic Love

I’ve been thinking about Plato’s Symposium lately. The short book details a social get-together of a group of Greek intellectuals each speaking about the nature of love. Apparently these old guys felt the need to discuss philosophy while consuming large amounts of wine. Anyway, the speech I like best is Aristophanes’ explanation of the origins of love.

He offers that humankind began as spherical beings with four arms, four legs, two faces and opposing genitalia. There were men and women but mostly hermaphrodites. These beings were so complete in themselves, so capable and without need they pretty much ignored the gods, which was a mistake because Zeus took particular umbrage at their arrogant self-satisfaction and split them all in half. Each man became two men, each woman two women and each androgynous one became one man and one woman.

These new beings found themselves lost without their companion half, found themselves subject to all sorts of human foibles, insecurities and fears, which, I suppose, made them more attentive to the gods, at least for a time. The upshot of this bizarre episode was an innate yearning on the part of each new individual to reunite with his or her missing half, which, according to Aristophanes, marked the beginnings of romantic love.

When I think about it, as wonderfully imaginative as his story is, it kind of makes sense that some men and some women would seek soulmates of common gender even though the majority, having been androgynous to begin with seeks union with the opposite sex.

Anyway, as you might expect, Socrates gets the last word and explains in his speech that love of Man, true love, is much deeper than the physical attractions of youth, that, through love, man has access to Absolute Beauty and Goodness which lead him to ultimate truth and bring him as near immortality as Man may ever come.

I bet Socrates and the Buddha would have gotten along well had they known each other.

With Greek Philosophers

With Greek Philosophers

Why Question?

In my ongoing interest in understanding more fully what is, I’ve been thinking about Socrates’ admonition: ‘An unexamined life is not worth living.’ What I think he must mean is one should continue to question. Not in the sense of total skepticism but with the understanding things change: situations, contexts, nuances offer new perspectives on commonly and generally held beliefs. And, new perspectives can lead to renewed energy and enthusiasm, adding dimensions to what I may have previously seen as pretty one-dimensional.

But, I suppose, at the same time questioning too vigorously may very well lead to profound uncertainties which will lead some who would prefer to just latch onto the Truth and leave it at that to lock up the box within which their knowledge is kept.

I guess those with such a mindset may be driven by an innate fear of the unknown, those for whom the terror of living is so overwhelming that they seek certainty at all costs, grasping with white-knuckled ferocity at dogmatic beliefs and limiting their community to others of similar ilk while denouncing those who don’t share their view, becoming pseudo-tribal as it were. And, by assuming such a stance, securely locking up the box of their understanding, distorted as it must be, resigning their conception of existence to remain in stasis until the farm is purchased.

Maybe it all comes down to intellectual capacity, and, as arrogant as that may sound, those of expansive vision, while less sure of ultimate outcomes, must surely lead a fuller, deeper consciousness, energized by the plethora of possibilities such an openness offers.

So, I guess I have to decide whether to live contentedly and securely if a bit unimaginatively inside the box or to break down the walls and revel in the uncertainty of infinite possibility. Such a decision, for me, is pretty easy to make.

Either/Or

Either/Or

The Magic of Belief

In my ongoing interest in getting a handle on religious faith and practices I’ve been researching the concept of transubstantiation. It appears church fathers have debated the idea of the magical change from wine and bread to blood and flesh for centuries in an attempt to convey legitimacy to the literal acceptance of Biblical metonymy. There have been council’s discussions and disagreements as to what Jesus actually meant when he told the disciples, “this is my blood”, etc. Since he was standing there holding a glass of wine and wasn’t apparently bleeding makes me wonder what all the uproar has been about after all this time.

I guess the acceptance of magic is key in such a debate. You know, all things are possible with God. The issue as well as many other doctrinal beliefs appears to depend on just such a faithful acceptance, which pretty much leaves logical understanding out in the cold.

Not that all that is, or could be, should necessarily fall within the bounds of my understanding. I do appreciate a regular dose of curiosity and wonder at the workings of the natural world and the people in it. There will, I’m sure, always be experiences beyond my conceptual abilities. But I do have to wonder if too much belief in magic might not be a bad thing for humankind after all. You know, if it relieves people from the responsibility of trying to understand and do something about the multitude of problems in the world, which, I fear, will be the case for those magical thinkers looking forward to a next life.

But, I suppose most people temper their acceptance of magical occurrences beyond the fantasies they tell themselves, the soundness of lottery participation, that the stranger on the phone isn’t going to ask for money. Nevertheless, it does appear self-deception may be the one commonality we all share.

administering the eucharist

 

Lost in the Wilderness (The Urban Jungle)

Having only recently returned from the natural wilderness of pristine lakes and virgin forest, I now find myself in a wilderness of an entirely different sort. I’m surrounded by vast, cold and impersonal canyon walls set upon acres of asphalt and concrete pavement and I find myself moving through throngs of humanity for whom I appear to be a non-entity, unacknowledged and ignored.

And, I’m again lost. Once again the map I’m looking at doesn’t seem to correspond to my location. The roads twist and turn, pass over and under, direction is lost and I think I may be caught in a never ending Mobius strip, or possibly a space/time warp of some sort.

There are similarities between the two wildernesses: both require survival skills, courage, strength of character and know-how (map reading abilities would be helpful as well). The differences, though, are stark. While here, in the urban jungle a cup of coffee is always readily available, the frenzied, sometimes hostile environment is fairly visually and aurally abrasive, not to mention the olfactory assaults one often encounters. Aesthetically this environment leaves me clearly wanting.

Given the choice I’ll take being lost in the natural wilderness anytime.

Fear of the Other

Fear of the Other

Lost in the Wilderness (Traveling Day)

It’s been raining for three hours and I’m lost again; or should I say still lost. Every once in a while I get this idea that I may know where I am in relation to my map.  And, of course, if where I am in reality is this corresponding spot on the map then maybe I’m not lost. It’s just that I’m not sure and there’s no one around to ask for directions, which, of course, stands to reason.

I haven’t seen anyone for quite some time, which does have its definite upside. There are no distractions to the purity of my being-here; no psychic interference or need to perform. Not that there’s anything wrong with friendly exchanges with total strangers but even those are intrusions of a sort.

I think being lost in the wilderness, as long as fear isn’t too much of a factor provides the means to eliminate identity, ego, that pesky Self that tends to get in the way of attaining a deeper consciousness and developing a profound peace within.

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Lost in the Wilderness

I was reading about Jacques Lacan the other day. He was a Freudian psychoanalyst that structured the human psyche into three registers: the Imaginary, which has to do with our image of ourselves, ego development, I guess; the Symbolic which has to do with our existence as related to social structures, laws, institutions, mores, rituals and such; and the Real which, he says, is realized in infancy but lost with the development of language and almost impossible to realize thereafter. What I think he means is that the limitations of language to fully grasp the complexities of our experiences interferes with any possibility of deeper understanding. A deeper Reality, Kant’s thing-in-itself, I guess, is lost.

And speaking of lost, I am; in the wilderness again. I find myself somewhere out here in a place that doesn’t seem to correspond to my map, which, I suppose, places me in a situation without a referent; sort of like being without language.

I suppose I should be afraid, being as I am truly lost, but there’s something magical about looking about and not knowing what’s beyond the next island. Everything, rock, water, forest have come into acute focus. Sight, sound, odors are enhanced. And I think I can probably retrace my steps (or paddle strokes as it were) to find my way back. But if I do I expect I may lose this wonderful enhanced awareness I now have.

So, I’m staying put for the time being; I’m in a better place. At least as long as the weather holds.

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