A good friend just sent me a short text (see below, I've chosen to include it here integrally for clearer reference) stating that the Prime Minister of Sri Lanka is concerned against the usage of Buddha statues in a chain of food and entertainment venues deemed Buddha Bar. His concern is that the Buddha statues are set in a context where alcohol is consumed and dancing takes place.
My objective throughout the body of this post is to explain, in my opinion, which are the positive and negative aspects of this question, while trying to perhaps give some more context to why this question was raised in the first place.
"Newspaper reports here say the prime minister is seeking details on the nature of the Buddha Bar chain, which is based in Paris and appears to have branches in other cities including Dubai, New York and Sharm el-Sheikh in Egypt. The trendy and expensive restaurants feature large statues of Lord Buddha. The prime minister's concern appears to be that alcohol is consumed or dancing takes place in front of the statues, both activities which many
Sri Lankans deem disrespectful in the religious context. If so, the prime minister wants to "take necessary action" against the bars but it's not clear what this would entail. The issue has already proved controversial in Indonesia, which has a Buddha Bar outlet in the capital. Members of the Buddhist minority and even a government minister have asked that it change
its name or close down, but neither has happened. The Sri Lankan government is sensitive about the majority faith here and recently the international rap singer, Akon, was forced to cancel a concert here because one of his videos shows a swimming pool party flanked by a Buddha statue. But a prominent Sri Lankan blogger has criticised the government attitude, calling the prime minister's comments an "empty threat" designed to bolster the
country's image as an island of Buddhism surrounded by Hinduism and Islam.// The blogger commented that many Westerners are interested in Buddhism because, in his words, "it's perceived as being above the petty squabbles and offences of other religions". The government may be gratified, however, to hear that the recession recently forced the London
branch of Buddha Bar to close down.
Prime Minister D. M. Jayaratne has sought information on a Restaurant\Bar chain located in several countries called the ‘Buddha Bar’ in a bid to see whether they were openly abusing Buddhism.
The Premier who is also the Buddhist and Religious Affairs Minister has instructed his Secretary to seek a report in this regard from Sri Lankan embassies.
The Prime Minister’s office reported that they had received information that these restaurants which serve liquor to customers in the presence of Buddha statues existed in the US, UK, France etc.
Details on their activities have been published on the Internet, they added.
Following the revelation, the Premier had instructed authorities to look into the matter and if found to be true, inform the Governments with the intervention of the External Affairs Ministry, to take steps to prevent such inappropriate use of Buddha statues.
The Prime Minister also expects to bring the issue to the attention of the World Buddhist Council."
I can see the validity of Sri-Lankan Prime Minister's argument, especially if he is someone that, as we Buddhists tend to say, has tasted the Dhamma.
When one has profound meditative experiences one's perception of world and self changes substantially. When this happens, as the direct result of applying the Buddha's teachings to one's life, one spontaneously begins to deeply treasure both the teachings, the Buddha and those that have sustained, expanded and nurtured these teachings safe for so many centuries. Sacredness is therefore temporal, contextual and, perhaps most importantly, directly experiential.
In this, I believe I comprehend how a fellow Buddhist might feel. For the Buddha was a man of incredible inner strength, something I feel only truly enlightened beings can truly understand (for they share it, at least to some extent). For the rest of us, the vision we have is much less clearer and therefore our perception of the Buddha tends to be based on hearsay, tradition, religion or indirect knowledge.
And, because of this, we miss the true sacredness, not only of the Buddha but also of all enlightened beings.
So, it is quite natural (especially for those of us not born in some sort of Buddhist tradition) for us to look upon a statue of the Buddha and see it perhaps more as a decorative element rather than a symbol of true sacredness.
Now I don't think that there's nothing necessarily wrong with this. It's a lack of cultural context, simply put.
However, I also feel that the core of the Buddhist teachings is the practice itself rather than any other external symbolism. I think the Buddha himself was very clear on this. His compassion was in his concern towards others. He knew that images are ultimately a distraction from the ultimate goal of meditation but that, in the earlier stages of the practice, they can be one of the supports towards the development of one's eightfold faculties.
My belief is that, if the Buddha were alive he would understand with an open heart someone's usage of his own image for commercial purposes. And he would continue to do his work of liberation for all beings.
I roughly agree with what the blogger that said that Buddhism is "perceived as being above the petty squabbles and offences of other religions".
Even though I don't agree so much with the wording he employed, I believe I've grasped the general intention for its using.
For me Buddhism's fundamental difference is that it focuses more in bringing to the world a method, a practice that allows each and everyone of us to come nearer to the non-dual experience that is at the heart of the human being. This is the thing perhaps most of us should be looking for. The thing most of us are in fact looking for - albeit in perhaps skewed ways.
Therefore each issue that confronts Buddhism should be seen from this light, from the light of compassion and non-duality.
I think it is important for us to differentiate between the teachings themselves and perhaps our attachment to them.
From another perspective I think we can confidently say that the image of the Buddha is one of the very few that the vast majority of human beings alive today can recognise and identify. It's not only obvious but inevitable that this image will be used for all manner of purposes. It is not owed by anyone. Even if some of us might cherished it incredibly, others definitely will not.
Some will perhaps even hate it. It doesn't matter. I think that there are bigger issues at hand.
Like how to remain compassionate in societies where humans are highly competitive and aggressive towards one another.
How to take care of the teachings and pass them on to future generations.
And, how can we ourselves become better human beings.
If these things are being observed then the the misuse of images isn't even a problem.
In fact we can even see this whole problem from a completely different perspective- We can see it as a celebration.
If for a long time now people have deified the image of the Buddha, well, I believe that I'm not too far of ins stating that, as culture changes, deification changes also.
To put it simply, that we are doing it again.
And that we are doing it through the eyes and tools of contemporary culture.
Thus, our deification comes through consumerism, perhaps the world's biggest religion these days.
In fact we might even say that this is a good sign. A sign that Buddhism is so present in current times, throughout the world, that somebody somewhere even thought that having a chain of restaurants/bars with the name Buddha would be good for business.
It means that Buddha and Buddhism are a recognised and recognisable part of our society. They are known.
And this is good. After all with obscurantism comes forgetfulness, comes a greater likelihood of the teachings being lost.
Of course with widespread knowledge comes everything else. Comes the preservation of values but also their distortion.
It's a natural consequence, nothing more.
Besides, we can always hope that, at least some of those that will enter the Buddha Bars for simple enjoyment, may perhaps leave a bit more curious about Buddha and Buddhism.
Perhaps even a few of those will read some Wikipedia entry about these things.
Perhaps a smaller fraction even will engage in the study and practice of the teachings and have their life transformed by them.
And who will be able to say that the Buddha Bar was a bad thing then?
On a more practical note we can also say that we will never be able to track down each improper usage of Buddhist imagery. I think it's somewhat pointless to even try and go out into the world and do that. I think we have more to lose by opposing one's freedom of using imagery that belongs to no one and all than we might possibly gain by doing so.
We must not forget that Buddhist imagery has been witness to many good and bad things throughout these 25 centuries. And it is likely that they will continue to do so.
If anything let's us take these things in the spirit of the Buddha. In the spirit of what he taught and struggled so hard to give to people, to help people achieve for their own benefit and that of all beings.
To take these matters with compassion and understanding, promoting a right, holystic, wholesome view.
Let us replace confrontation with compassion.
Let us be Buddhists.
Showing posts with label buddhism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label buddhism. Show all posts
Wednesday, 30 June 2010
Saturday, 19 June 2010
The Human Incompleteness Theorem
This is a theme that has been running in my mind for a while now and yesterday, while cycling home, this title surfaced and I more or less felt it was time to start writing about it. After all, if I don't do it, I'll probably end up forgetting it.
(for a while at least, these things do tend to come back again, reformulated, at a later stage, as if everything had its own cycle or appearance, disappearance, transformation and reappearance)
Kurt Gödel was the mathematician that proved MATHEMATICALLY that any single system we might come up with will never contain enough tools to be able to prove every possible affirmation about that system.
To put it more simply, if you want to know EVERYTHING about the box, you need to be OUT of it.
Bringing this theme closer to home, if we want to know everything about ourselves, or consciousness or whatever it is, we simply have to accept the fact that we can't, because, whatever the tools we employ, the very tools will end up limiting us.
We have a physical body, mind, consciousness, karma, spirituality. All these things (either we know exactly what they are or not it doesn't matter) will define how much we can know about ourselves.
It is our nature (well, for most of us it is it seems to me...) that, as soon as we realise something we jump on to the next.
And to the next.
And to the next.
It's a never-ending process of "searching for".
For better or for worse Kurt Gödel comes to clearly state that we will never reach everything.
If anything, it will be the reverse, the more we know, the more we will become keenly aware of the astounding array of possibilities. And if our perception of things changes then chances are we'll add even more to what we already had. Every new thing will expand our system, perhaps making us feel even more incomplete than before.
I was talking to a friend a few days ago about this. I told her that this isn't a pessimistic vision of things but merely a call to accept one of the most basic rules of the game. That, in fact, this theorem revolutionised mathematics, making it a much more fertile ground. It was a huge leap in terms of attitude and my personal stance is that it still hasn't even been fully integrated in the scientific community. It's too big and it goes against our natural desires. Therefore, it's acceptance is more on logical and scientific terms rather than heartfelt or experiential ones.
To me, as soon as I discovered Vipassana and had the chance of experience deeper stages of the practice, I made the connection between Buddha and Gödel immediately. It was an obvious one. Gödel had simply reached a mathematical framework for something essential to the Buddhist teachings. The experience of the incompleteness and limitation of self.
In a way we can think of the Incompleteness Theorem as a mathematical assertion on the nature of desire, on its omnipresence, on the acceptance that the drive for knowledge is something that binds us and that keeps pushing us forward but that, ultimately, we're fighting a losing battle. That even though it is important that we continue to expand our vistas, it is crucial to accept that we cannot reach the Absolute with our minds or any kind of construct. You see the Incompleteness Theorem reveals the fine boundaries that are in place at all levels of experience. And, subtly, just like the Buddha encouraged us to go and seek and see for ourselves, it teaches us that the best thing we can do is perceive that these are in place, accept them and let go. Thus allowing us to integrate them. Grow closer to them. And expand.
I think in a very subtle way Gödel is telling us there is more to life than mathematics and mind. The Buddha simply said, and you can see it for yourself. You can experience directly the breaking point of normal perception into something much vaster than no longer depends upon the mind's conceptualisation.
By experiencing the end of mind one gets as closely as possible from getting out of the box.
In fact, we reach the walls of our box. We become part of them.
Perhaps we cannot look on what's on the other side.
But we've reached all that we could, the maximum of our possibilities.
And I believe that when we return to the inside of the box (all of this may only take a moment to happen) we will find that it has considerably expanded.
And by travelling between these two very different experiences we will be able to wholly transform and expand the whole of our world view.
For the good of all beings.
Peace.
(for a while at least, these things do tend to come back again, reformulated, at a later stage, as if everything had its own cycle or appearance, disappearance, transformation and reappearance)
Kurt Gödel was the mathematician that proved MATHEMATICALLY that any single system we might come up with will never contain enough tools to be able to prove every possible affirmation about that system.
To put it more simply, if you want to know EVERYTHING about the box, you need to be OUT of it.
Bringing this theme closer to home, if we want to know everything about ourselves, or consciousness or whatever it is, we simply have to accept the fact that we can't, because, whatever the tools we employ, the very tools will end up limiting us.
We have a physical body, mind, consciousness, karma, spirituality. All these things (either we know exactly what they are or not it doesn't matter) will define how much we can know about ourselves.
It is our nature (well, for most of us it is it seems to me...) that, as soon as we realise something we jump on to the next.
And to the next.
And to the next.
It's a never-ending process of "searching for".
For better or for worse Kurt Gödel comes to clearly state that we will never reach everything.
If anything, it will be the reverse, the more we know, the more we will become keenly aware of the astounding array of possibilities. And if our perception of things changes then chances are we'll add even more to what we already had. Every new thing will expand our system, perhaps making us feel even more incomplete than before.
I was talking to a friend a few days ago about this. I told her that this isn't a pessimistic vision of things but merely a call to accept one of the most basic rules of the game. That, in fact, this theorem revolutionised mathematics, making it a much more fertile ground. It was a huge leap in terms of attitude and my personal stance is that it still hasn't even been fully integrated in the scientific community. It's too big and it goes against our natural desires. Therefore, it's acceptance is more on logical and scientific terms rather than heartfelt or experiential ones.
To me, as soon as I discovered Vipassana and had the chance of experience deeper stages of the practice, I made the connection between Buddha and Gödel immediately. It was an obvious one. Gödel had simply reached a mathematical framework for something essential to the Buddhist teachings. The experience of the incompleteness and limitation of self.
In a way we can think of the Incompleteness Theorem as a mathematical assertion on the nature of desire, on its omnipresence, on the acceptance that the drive for knowledge is something that binds us and that keeps pushing us forward but that, ultimately, we're fighting a losing battle. That even though it is important that we continue to expand our vistas, it is crucial to accept that we cannot reach the Absolute with our minds or any kind of construct. You see the Incompleteness Theorem reveals the fine boundaries that are in place at all levels of experience. And, subtly, just like the Buddha encouraged us to go and seek and see for ourselves, it teaches us that the best thing we can do is perceive that these are in place, accept them and let go. Thus allowing us to integrate them. Grow closer to them. And expand.
I think in a very subtle way Gödel is telling us there is more to life than mathematics and mind. The Buddha simply said, and you can see it for yourself. You can experience directly the breaking point of normal perception into something much vaster than no longer depends upon the mind's conceptualisation.
By experiencing the end of mind one gets as closely as possible from getting out of the box.
In fact, we reach the walls of our box. We become part of them.
Perhaps we cannot look on what's on the other side.
But we've reached all that we could, the maximum of our possibilities.
And I believe that when we return to the inside of the box (all of this may only take a moment to happen) we will find that it has considerably expanded.
And by travelling between these two very different experiences we will be able to wholly transform and expand the whole of our world view.
For the good of all beings.
Peace.
Thursday, 31 December 2009
The Origins Of Wonder
I was just cycling home a few minutes ago, my mind racing as I pedalled, not so much in tune with the motion but rather with the fact that I'll be leaving in a few days for my yearly retreat and, as always, there's a lot of stuff that I want to do before I go.
Actually, one of the big advantages of doing a yearly retreat is that, at least once a year, you have to get your life in order. From living space to head space.
And this, in conjunction with the film I saw last night, Elegy, the Manga I want to read for Mondays discussion and considerations about people I know, prompted this wonder musing in my mind.
And this is why we're here, right?
As I found myself thinking about all the different Manga series I was carrying I started wondering if I'd actually enjoy any of them (in the sense, would I like to read more of the series or not?), if I could actually relate to the stories and themes revolving around pre-teens, most likely set in contemporary Japan... it seemed a bit far fetched as I cycled but, I thought, even if I don't relate, it's definitely something I'm curious on doing, something I think I will benefit, be more in touch with the cultural here and now so to speak.
And, if I was lucky, perhaps I would feel that sense of wonder that I experienced so many times as kid. That's what it means to me to be a kid. To be imbued of that sense of all pervasive wonder which we tend to equate with intense happiness.
In doing some research today for covers for the Jack Of Tales comics series, I ended up bumping into an Alan Moore interview on a comics website and there he talked about League Of Extraordinary Gentlemen and how Philip José Farmer had had such a massive influence on the title. He mentioned one of Philip's books: Tarzan Lives! to exemplify the mutability of his writing. Alan said something like "as if it had been written by two Burroughs". Meaning Edgar Rice Burroughs (the creator of Tarzan) and William S. Burroughs (a writer that explore writing through drug induced states and whose life was one big, dangerous experiment).
I've read them both and, for different and similar reasons, I've enjoyed them both immensely. Tarzan was obviously a childhood hero, with plenty of righteous fights and nature and damsels in distress. William Burroughs was the first person to safely take me into the realms of the deeply altered human mind. He was using his own hallucinations and surrealism to bring us one step closer to reality. A bit like observing a madman will give you insight into the true nature of madness and thus broaden your perception of yourself and the humanity at the same time.
All this to say that I could feel through Alan's words his own sense of teen wonder when he too read those authors.
And this took me to muse on how that sense of wonder had developed in me? Why does it surface at all?
"We think in absolutes"
I believe this was the sentence that simply popped into my mind. Meaning, we experience in absolutes, rather than thinking. I knew what I meant even though my mind tends towards words I use only too often...
The idea here is that when we experience something, at the root of our senses, there is no comparing of that experience with anything else. Things just are. Each and every single experience is complete. And every single one feels like the first time. Each is unique. Each is complete.
To me, this is the physiological root of wonder.
We have it all the time. At each passing moment. But, because our degree of integration with ourselves, with our body and senses is frail, we rarely perceive this completeness.
We only experience what comes after.
Which is the comparison between this experience and many others that have happened before.
I felt very happy and alive (as I always do) when this happened.
My mind was racing now in order to observe more of this perception. I found myself traveling back in time in my own memories trying to see where the perception of that feeling had started and had grown into a more conceptual form.
The thing I came up with were some very old animation series from the late seventies, early eighties. Namely Future Boy Conan and The Mysterious Cities Of Gold.
This was where fantasy, wonder and spirituality started to become connected the way they have been since.
For years I had an image in my head: there's a young kid staring at the horizon, perhaps on top of a hill and, suddenly, the ground beneath his feet starts to shake, everything begins to collapse and a huge ship, as big as a city but in the shape of a manta ray, lifts from under the ground and hovers high above him, amidst all the destruction.
That image was so powerful that it stayed with me for years and years. It's still here. I had forgotten the name of the series to such an extent that in my early teens I had started to doubt the actual existence of such a series. I'd asked around but no one seemed to remember.
It was only in my mid twenties that I found out that it belonged to the animation series called Future Boy Conan. As soon as I saw some images I realized it was that boy on the screen that I had seen in that image many many years ago.
I still haven't seen the series again but one day I will and, when I do, I'm sure that image, or something close to it (after all memory does change with time) will be there waiting for me.
The other thing that I realised was that even though these series had such an incredible sense of fantasy and wonder in them because they were being shown on television, because schedules kept changing (television was quite irregular when I was a little kid, shows would be announced simply on the day, not be aired at all, delayed for an hour, anything was possible in those, still early, days) I'd often miss good chunks of series altogether.
I remember watching a re-run of The Mysterious Cities Of Gold when I was about sixteen or seventeen. And even with a regular schedule, I'd often miss an episode here or there.
And, because of this haphazard nature of television, we were not presented with a continuous, smooth flow of plot and story development. No. We were presented with parts of the story. Some episodes you'd see many times. Some you never did watch.
I think this had a curious effect on my mind.
I had to fill in the gaps.
So even though watching television is a pretty passive activity, the way you watch it can also truly engage with your imagination.
Besides the obvious daydreaming about your favourite series...
This somehow took me to think about the main theme of the film I saw yesterday (Elegy): ageing and the realisation of life.
Why does something so obvious and omni-present as growing old surprise us so much? This in the sense of the film, more clearly expressed in Tolstoy's immortal words:
"A man's greatest surprise is age."
Why is it such a life changing realisation? Why is it so painful? Shouldn't we slowly grow accustomed to it?
I'm not talking about rational, logical explanations here. I'm talking about the emotional side of it, so seemingly uncontrollable.
Here's perhaps the glimpse of an answer.
I think the basis for this confusion stems from our good old, root perception versus conceptual perception.
At a sensory level perception is always complete and immutable. One's perception of heat surely depends on the amount of heat sensors one has in the skin but, however many, however accurate, the information they provide is always complete. Remember, there is no comparison at this level. That touch consciousness is always perfect from an internal perspective.
This means that, at every moment of awareness, on a root level we are always complete, full and fully present.
But then the mind starts to decipher all this information.
It starts separating it, trying to make "sense" out of it. Fitting it in boxes so it can create based on it, so it can more easily create a bridge between this moment of awareness and the next.
This is when the "problems" start...
That splitting up of information in many different possibilities (and/or meanings) creates waves of neuronal comparison. The sensory stimulus interacts with the brain, expanding the original inflow of information with the one that the brain is creating through its interaction with it.
Memory is naturally engaged with this. And by memory I don't mean necessarily experiences we remember. Actually, I believe that most of this mnemonic engagement is with forms (I have no better word to try and define these structures) we don't even know we have as part of our mind space.
So, this second stage is all about creating a different state. Of, apparently, noticing the differences. Therefore, and because this is usually the state we begin to pay attention to (the sole state where we are "awakened") this means we only consider this one side of the equation. We see the distance rather than what's there.
This is the origin between the still "being young inside" (the raw sensory information reaching us spontaneously at every moment) and the "feeling old" when one looks at the mirror or observes how much more difficult it is now to move or have energy or whatever (but this is the comparative state given by the mind, observing the differences).
Obviously, because we haven't integrated these two seemingly opposing perceptions into a single experience (non-dual, constant, continuous, etc), we tend only to focus (somewhat unconsciously) on the difference between what was and what is.
And this causes us pain.
But, as always, this pain is mainly present because of our ignorance about our own conditions. Because we aren't truly awake. Ie, we cannot contemplate and be aware of the simultaneity of both perceptions. One non-dual in nature (raw sensory data) and the other wholly dualistic (our mind comparison mechanisms based on sensory and brain data).
In sum, we feel the pain of being old because we aren't truly in touch with ourselves within the moment.
When we are our age has no pain, regret, loss or whatever negative feeling attached to it. Because we are in touch with the raw sensory data streaming in. We are in touch with the feeling of completeness it entails. With its timeless quality (time only exists by comparison, ie, this moment is different from that one. Within the moment, there is only the moment, there is nothing else).
We are neither young or old.
We are timeless.
We are closer to our truth and to its all pervasive qualities.
We are fully awake in being.
Peace.
Actually, one of the big advantages of doing a yearly retreat is that, at least once a year, you have to get your life in order. From living space to head space.
And this, in conjunction with the film I saw last night, Elegy, the Manga I want to read for Mondays discussion and considerations about people I know, prompted this wonder musing in my mind.
And this is why we're here, right?
As I found myself thinking about all the different Manga series I was carrying I started wondering if I'd actually enjoy any of them (in the sense, would I like to read more of the series or not?), if I could actually relate to the stories and themes revolving around pre-teens, most likely set in contemporary Japan... it seemed a bit far fetched as I cycled but, I thought, even if I don't relate, it's definitely something I'm curious on doing, something I think I will benefit, be more in touch with the cultural here and now so to speak.
And, if I was lucky, perhaps I would feel that sense of wonder that I experienced so many times as kid. That's what it means to me to be a kid. To be imbued of that sense of all pervasive wonder which we tend to equate with intense happiness.
In doing some research today for covers for the Jack Of Tales comics series, I ended up bumping into an Alan Moore interview on a comics website and there he talked about League Of Extraordinary Gentlemen and how Philip José Farmer had had such a massive influence on the title. He mentioned one of Philip's books: Tarzan Lives! to exemplify the mutability of his writing. Alan said something like "as if it had been written by two Burroughs". Meaning Edgar Rice Burroughs (the creator of Tarzan) and William S. Burroughs (a writer that explore writing through drug induced states and whose life was one big, dangerous experiment).
I've read them both and, for different and similar reasons, I've enjoyed them both immensely. Tarzan was obviously a childhood hero, with plenty of righteous fights and nature and damsels in distress. William Burroughs was the first person to safely take me into the realms of the deeply altered human mind. He was using his own hallucinations and surrealism to bring us one step closer to reality. A bit like observing a madman will give you insight into the true nature of madness and thus broaden your perception of yourself and the humanity at the same time.
All this to say that I could feel through Alan's words his own sense of teen wonder when he too read those authors.
And this took me to muse on how that sense of wonder had developed in me? Why does it surface at all?
"We think in absolutes"
I believe this was the sentence that simply popped into my mind. Meaning, we experience in absolutes, rather than thinking. I knew what I meant even though my mind tends towards words I use only too often...
The idea here is that when we experience something, at the root of our senses, there is no comparing of that experience with anything else. Things just are. Each and every single experience is complete. And every single one feels like the first time. Each is unique. Each is complete.
To me, this is the physiological root of wonder.
We have it all the time. At each passing moment. But, because our degree of integration with ourselves, with our body and senses is frail, we rarely perceive this completeness.
We only experience what comes after.
Which is the comparison between this experience and many others that have happened before.
I felt very happy and alive (as I always do) when this happened.
My mind was racing now in order to observe more of this perception. I found myself traveling back in time in my own memories trying to see where the perception of that feeling had started and had grown into a more conceptual form.
The thing I came up with were some very old animation series from the late seventies, early eighties. Namely Future Boy Conan and The Mysterious Cities Of Gold.
This was where fantasy, wonder and spirituality started to become connected the way they have been since.
For years I had an image in my head: there's a young kid staring at the horizon, perhaps on top of a hill and, suddenly, the ground beneath his feet starts to shake, everything begins to collapse and a huge ship, as big as a city but in the shape of a manta ray, lifts from under the ground and hovers high above him, amidst all the destruction.
That image was so powerful that it stayed with me for years and years. It's still here. I had forgotten the name of the series to such an extent that in my early teens I had started to doubt the actual existence of such a series. I'd asked around but no one seemed to remember.
It was only in my mid twenties that I found out that it belonged to the animation series called Future Boy Conan. As soon as I saw some images I realized it was that boy on the screen that I had seen in that image many many years ago.
I still haven't seen the series again but one day I will and, when I do, I'm sure that image, or something close to it (after all memory does change with time) will be there waiting for me.
The other thing that I realised was that even though these series had such an incredible sense of fantasy and wonder in them because they were being shown on television, because schedules kept changing (television was quite irregular when I was a little kid, shows would be announced simply on the day, not be aired at all, delayed for an hour, anything was possible in those, still early, days) I'd often miss good chunks of series altogether.
I remember watching a re-run of The Mysterious Cities Of Gold when I was about sixteen or seventeen. And even with a regular schedule, I'd often miss an episode here or there.
And, because of this haphazard nature of television, we were not presented with a continuous, smooth flow of plot and story development. No. We were presented with parts of the story. Some episodes you'd see many times. Some you never did watch.
I think this had a curious effect on my mind.
I had to fill in the gaps.
So even though watching television is a pretty passive activity, the way you watch it can also truly engage with your imagination.
Besides the obvious daydreaming about your favourite series...
This somehow took me to think about the main theme of the film I saw yesterday (Elegy): ageing and the realisation of life.
Why does something so obvious and omni-present as growing old surprise us so much? This in the sense of the film, more clearly expressed in Tolstoy's immortal words:
"A man's greatest surprise is age."
Why is it such a life changing realisation? Why is it so painful? Shouldn't we slowly grow accustomed to it?
I'm not talking about rational, logical explanations here. I'm talking about the emotional side of it, so seemingly uncontrollable.
Here's perhaps the glimpse of an answer.
I think the basis for this confusion stems from our good old, root perception versus conceptual perception.
At a sensory level perception is always complete and immutable. One's perception of heat surely depends on the amount of heat sensors one has in the skin but, however many, however accurate, the information they provide is always complete. Remember, there is no comparison at this level. That touch consciousness is always perfect from an internal perspective.
This means that, at every moment of awareness, on a root level we are always complete, full and fully present.
But then the mind starts to decipher all this information.
It starts separating it, trying to make "sense" out of it. Fitting it in boxes so it can create based on it, so it can more easily create a bridge between this moment of awareness and the next.
This is when the "problems" start...
That splitting up of information in many different possibilities (and/or meanings) creates waves of neuronal comparison. The sensory stimulus interacts with the brain, expanding the original inflow of information with the one that the brain is creating through its interaction with it.
Memory is naturally engaged with this. And by memory I don't mean necessarily experiences we remember. Actually, I believe that most of this mnemonic engagement is with forms (I have no better word to try and define these structures) we don't even know we have as part of our mind space.
So, this second stage is all about creating a different state. Of, apparently, noticing the differences. Therefore, and because this is usually the state we begin to pay attention to (the sole state where we are "awakened") this means we only consider this one side of the equation. We see the distance rather than what's there.
This is the origin between the still "being young inside" (the raw sensory information reaching us spontaneously at every moment) and the "feeling old" when one looks at the mirror or observes how much more difficult it is now to move or have energy or whatever (but this is the comparative state given by the mind, observing the differences).
Obviously, because we haven't integrated these two seemingly opposing perceptions into a single experience (non-dual, constant, continuous, etc), we tend only to focus (somewhat unconsciously) on the difference between what was and what is.
And this causes us pain.
But, as always, this pain is mainly present because of our ignorance about our own conditions. Because we aren't truly awake. Ie, we cannot contemplate and be aware of the simultaneity of both perceptions. One non-dual in nature (raw sensory data) and the other wholly dualistic (our mind comparison mechanisms based on sensory and brain data).
In sum, we feel the pain of being old because we aren't truly in touch with ourselves within the moment.
When we are our age has no pain, regret, loss or whatever negative feeling attached to it. Because we are in touch with the raw sensory data streaming in. We are in touch with the feeling of completeness it entails. With its timeless quality (time only exists by comparison, ie, this moment is different from that one. Within the moment, there is only the moment, there is nothing else).
We are neither young or old.
We are timeless.
We are closer to our truth and to its all pervasive qualities.
We are fully awake in being.
Peace.
Wednesday, 30 September 2009
Inside The Wonder
Dear ones,
I hope this will be a long journey. I hope that through the next few weeks, months and years, I will be able (or we, if more come along, wishing to join and to share) to bring together into clarity that which has kept my mind ticking for so many countless instants.
Ever since i was a child that I've been interested in being here. There seems to be so much around and inside us. Wherever the mind turns it finds, it creates. Infinity is perhaps one of its domains.
The problem, for me, has always been the "real world". Inside is more or less easy. The boundaries are acknowledged. And I know it takes time to get where we want to be.
A retreat happened a few years ago.
And I found a lot of strangely old and new things.
I felt a lot inside of me be broken up, healed and transformed.
Yet, at the same time, it felt as if i hadn't lost anything. Just added more by removing redundancies, gaps between perceptions.
Basically, I grew up.
Though not in a linear, predicatable, logical way.
Things changed as I tried to get back in touch with the very basics of being alive.
Instead of looking from the height of consciousness into myself as a body, it was the reverse. It the plunging inside the core of being alive that made me expand and grow.
Hopefully, I will be able to explain all these things a bit better in subsequent posts.
But, before i do that, I want to let you know what I would like to do with this space.
I would like to use it to bridge Buddhism and Science.
(I know it's a lot but, hey, it's well worth trying)
The more I learn about one and experience the other, the more i see the obvious connections. Because I think most people - even those dedicating themselves to spiritual practices - are not aware of this, I would like to share my own perceptions of the interconnectivity of these two domains of human experience. I think both (and all of us) can greatly benefit from them.
The other thing is the growing feeling of underlying unity between all spiritual practices. In particular all those that seem to offer a very clear path towards enlightenment.
It is now my perception that one does not need to lose oneself in various practices in order to reach that core goal.
What is necessary, in my opinion, is to find a practice that is the most suitable to us and give it and ourselves time to fully mature within it.
My perspective stems from my own experiences and that which I have perceived along the way.
Please do not take my words as being the absolute truth. Everything is relative. Even when one is trying his or her hardest not to veil one's perceptions.
Only the experience of non-duality can actually give rise to the true understanding of what truth is and means.
Until then... we travel the limbo of reality.
If anything I hope that, one day, looking back, we can look back on what will be written here and feel continuity and evolution.
I hope that these words will bring all of closer to our individual truths and that we will be able to share a good measure of a common ground of experience.
To all beings
With Love and Kindness
I hope this will be a long journey. I hope that through the next few weeks, months and years, I will be able (or we, if more come along, wishing to join and to share) to bring together into clarity that which has kept my mind ticking for so many countless instants.
Ever since i was a child that I've been interested in being here. There seems to be so much around and inside us. Wherever the mind turns it finds, it creates. Infinity is perhaps one of its domains.
The problem, for me, has always been the "real world". Inside is more or less easy. The boundaries are acknowledged. And I know it takes time to get where we want to be.
A retreat happened a few years ago.
And I found a lot of strangely old and new things.
I felt a lot inside of me be broken up, healed and transformed.
Yet, at the same time, it felt as if i hadn't lost anything. Just added more by removing redundancies, gaps between perceptions.
Basically, I grew up.
Though not in a linear, predicatable, logical way.
Things changed as I tried to get back in touch with the very basics of being alive.
Instead of looking from the height of consciousness into myself as a body, it was the reverse. It the plunging inside the core of being alive that made me expand and grow.
Hopefully, I will be able to explain all these things a bit better in subsequent posts.
But, before i do that, I want to let you know what I would like to do with this space.
I would like to use it to bridge Buddhism and Science.
(I know it's a lot but, hey, it's well worth trying)
The more I learn about one and experience the other, the more i see the obvious connections. Because I think most people - even those dedicating themselves to spiritual practices - are not aware of this, I would like to share my own perceptions of the interconnectivity of these two domains of human experience. I think both (and all of us) can greatly benefit from them.
The other thing is the growing feeling of underlying unity between all spiritual practices. In particular all those that seem to offer a very clear path towards enlightenment.
It is now my perception that one does not need to lose oneself in various practices in order to reach that core goal.
What is necessary, in my opinion, is to find a practice that is the most suitable to us and give it and ourselves time to fully mature within it.
My perspective stems from my own experiences and that which I have perceived along the way.
Please do not take my words as being the absolute truth. Everything is relative. Even when one is trying his or her hardest not to veil one's perceptions.
Only the experience of non-duality can actually give rise to the true understanding of what truth is and means.
Until then... we travel the limbo of reality.
If anything I hope that, one day, looking back, we can look back on what will be written here and feel continuity and evolution.
I hope that these words will bring all of closer to our individual truths and that we will be able to share a good measure of a common ground of experience.
To all beings
With Love and Kindness
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