Showing posts with label Science. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Science. Show all posts
Climate Change and Trump's Decision to Leave the Paris Agreement
Climate change is an observable phenomena that can be measured and the data can be collected and analyzed to produce a conclusion. This is the job of scientists, not the host of "The Apprentice."
The overwhelming scientific consensus on climate change is that it is demonstrably real and man contributes to this dangerous warming trend. This view is endorsed by 97% of all scientists that publish in the field.
What's more, climate scientists are the only people on the planet taking measurements, collecting and analyzing data about climate change. And yet, the reality TV star we elected President, in his hubris, has decided to disregard their conclusion and go on a hunch. Making policy decisions to the contrary of informed and uniform scientific consensus is arrogant, short-sided, and reckless. It binds future generations to the political whims and personal preferences of an ignorant and sophomoric mind.
The Paris Agreement is not perfect, but it is a giant step in the right direction, and America backing out of the deal will make it nearly impossible to strike another international deal in the future. It deals a decisive blow to both the planet and America's credibility.
You cannot make America great by destroying the planet America is on. "America First" cannot mean America comes before the planet it is a part of—that is like sawing off the branch you are sitting on.
To know the Paris Accord is a necessary step in the right direction, I do not need to understand the intricacies of climate science. Nor do the conclusions of climate scientists need agree with my personal politics. I only need to understand and accept that the epistemology of science—the method of collecting and organizing data in the form of testable explanations about the physical world—is superior to pure speculation.
The Space Between Fundamentalism and Atheism
The remarkable success demonstrated by the methodologies of science over the past two centuries has brought us to a place in history where its epistemology has cornered the market.
In the modern West objective truth and facts have a monopoly on value. By these standards, religion does not measure up. It is useless in the modern world. The question is whether this is a fair standard by which to measure the value of religion.
Religion is viewed, by most people, as a set of supernatural propositions that must be either affirmed or denied. This position creates a deep chasm. On one side are those who validate the supernatural truth-claims of religion; on the other side are those that categorically reject the validity of those claims. These two camps are commonly referred to as believers and atheists.
For the better part of 15 years, I thought myself an atheist. The ubiquity of fundamentalist religion in the deep South (where I live), coupled with my tacit acceptance of this false dichotomy (believers vs. atheists), forced me to side with the atheists. Nothing in me believed that “God” was a suitable explanation for the origin of life or the cosmos. Furthermore, the idea that an all-knowing, all-powerful creator God fashioned a world, which so displeased him that he was forced to offer up his son as a blood-sacrifice in order to pacify his own wrath made no sense to me. It wasn’t a matter of being angry or resentful at Christianity. I was just as disinterested in reincarnation as I was in heaven and hell. As a child of modernity these supernatural propositions just didn’t resonate with me. So I found common cause with the atheist, though I was always sympathetic to the idea of spirituality.
This spiritual impulse pulled me towards the Buddhism section at my local bookstore. Buddhism seemed to be devoid of these supernatural elements. After spending some time in India I learned this was a Western facade. Buddhism, like all other religions, is full of supernatural elements: reincarnation, tulkus, gods, dakinis, dharmapalas, and yidams. Much of this is read out by those that have popularized Buddhism in the West, but in its indigenous form it is there. That said, Buddhism has a rich and rewarding tradition of contemplative practice and philosophical inquiry that is capable of functioning independent of any supernatural elements. But so does Christianity.
One day, twelve or so years ago, I was reading a book by the Dalai Lama. In it he mentioned a name: Thomas Merton. I didn’t know Thomas Merton from a hole in the wall, but the Dalai Lama—who I deeply respect—gave him a glowing recommendation. So I bought my first Merton book—No Man Is An Island—which began my love affair with Thomas Merton and my introduction to contemplative Christianity.
As I plunged into the wide array of contemplative Christian writers—ranging from Pseudo-Dionysius to Meister Eckhart, John of the Cross, and St. Teresa of Avila up to contemporary writers like Matthew Fox, Thomas Keating, Richard Rohr, and Cynthia Bourgeault—something began to awaken within me. Their words were resurrecting the winds of inspiration deep in my body. It felt like a homecoming.
In Contemplative Christianity I found a practicable spirituality that was organized around an experience of God, rather than paranormal speculation. Furthermore, it was consistent with my cultural background and required no ideological allegiances that disqualified my commitment to Buddhist practice or the principles of Buddhist spirituality that had for me proven to be true and effective. As a Westerner, their view supplemented my Buddhist practice and the practices they offered enlarged my spiritual life.
Eventually, it go to the point where I could no longer exclusively identify with either tradition. In fact, I am still in this bardo, so to speak. I am confused—actually, I am not confused! The confluence of resonant threads in my spirituality and my inability to honestly label myself as one or the other is probably a more accurate representation of the complexity of the human experience, and interestingly enough, more in line with the view selflessness in both traditions. I am comfortable without the name tag. And I am not alone in this. In the ever-developing spirituality of the modern West identification with traditions and labels are losing their significance (and not just for pretentious, quasi-intellectual reasons).
The emerging view of spirituality in the West is one based loosely on the idea of pragmatism. What works? This is the concern driving the development of modern spirituality. And this concern necessarily absorbs into the existing framework effective ideas and practices from a variety of traditions. In fact, this view of spiritual practice is fleshed out in my book Finding God in the Body: A Spiritual Path for the Modern West.
This approach also exposes the inadequacies of the "believer vs. atheist" dichotomy. Falling through the cracks of this fatuous debate are millions of people who see religion as an effective vehicle for spiritual growth and personal, and thereby social, transformation—not as a set of truth-claims about the physical world.
If we are talking about the origins of life or the cosmos, then yes, in that limited sense, I am an atheist. Science is the most effective tool for answering those questions, not religion. However, if we are talking about moving beyond the narrow and lifeless world between our ears and reconnecting with the ground of meaning and being, then I am a religious person. When skillfully utilized, religion is, in my opinion, the most effective means of approaching and embodying our human nature.
The value of religion cannot be measured by its capacity to explain away the mysteries of the material world. That is not the job of religion. Those mysteries belong to science. And the fact that large numbers of people believe that religion’s value consists primarily in that endeavor is strange. It demonstrates our limited perspective and painfully anemic grasp of truth.
Yes, something is of value only if it is rooted in truth, but truth is not the same as trivia.
The word truth is a representation of reality, which is a rich, kaleidoscopic domain that the word "fact" fails to envelope. When the word “truth” is mistaken for the word “fact,” life is reduced to a myopic, single-tiered plane of cerebral existence that ignores every phenomena which escapes measurement.
Our understanding of truth must also account for those intangible dimensions of reality. It must account for consciousness and courage, meaning, longing, patience, and self-sacrifice. Love is not a quantifiable fact, but it is an indispensable quality of truth. And this aspect of truth, strangely enough, finds its most judicious descriptions in works of fiction, not philosophical treatises.
Fiction is not necessarily antithetical to truth, as any student of literature well knows. Fiction can be skillfully deployed as a means of communicating truth. When fiction is used to communicate truth (The Odyssey or The Lord of the Rings) or when fact and fiction are blended in an effort to lift truth from its historical context and place the story on a timeless plane (The Bible), it is properly called myth. At its core, religion is a collection of myths coupled with practices or rituals that enable us to participate in the story.
Myth is a system of symbols that, as the renowned mythologist Joseph Campbell explained, point past themselves “to a ground of meaning and being that is one with the consciousness of the beholder.” There is always a sphere of experience that escapes the plain language of facts. This is the realm of mythology.
Historical facts detail the events of times passed; whereas myth tells the story of an ongoing journey, the human adventure. Since mythology is organized around eternal truths rather than historical details, it invites us to participate in the journey, which in truth is the unfolding of our authentic life.
Briefly stated, myth tells the story of mankind, not a particular man, and therefore invites us to participate in the telling of this story through our lived experience.
The value of religion consists, not in the factual accuracy of these stories, but in their capacity to arouse within us the courage to be in the face of despair. And furthermore, couple that inspiration with an actionable path structure that enables us to actualize that potential or express it in our actions. The value of God, for example, is found in its ability to direct our longing—to set our gaze on the transcendent realm or center our identity in the selfless awareness of the heart. The word God does not explain existence away. It is not the name of the most powerful being in the universe. God is a symbol for Being-itself, which we participate in through basic awareness.
God is not a being far removed from the reality and the immediacy of our daily life, but The intimate, intensely personal, and deeply affecting presence that substantiates our life.
The word God calls us out of the claustrophobic, false-self identity that is at the root of our suffering and into the life of the body. But religion is not a collection of magic words. Religion without practice is wishful thinking. Practice births God into the world through our actions. Prayer invokes the power of Being in the face of fear, anger, and depression. Meditation practice crucifies the false-self on the cross of silence, enabling our true Self—Christ, if you will—to be resurrected from rubble of our disembodied life. This true Self—not I but the Christ within—is the impersonal or selfless quality of basic awareness that mediates our relationship with God.
In the words of Rabbi David Cooper, God is not a noun, but a verb. When practiced—rather than simply affirmed—God enables us to overcome personal suffering. And that is the standard of truth by which religion must be judged.
William James wrote in The Meaning of Truth, “The true, to put it very briefly, is only the expedient in our way of thinking, just as the right is only the expedient in our way of behaving.” I don’t agree with the idea that expedience is any more representative of truth than are facts. I believe that both have their place. Each represents a quality of truth.
Suffering brings us to the spiritual path. We might pick up a book about spirituality, meditation, or some religion for reasons of curiosity, but no one commits themselves to the painstaking work of spiritual practice unless they are looking for transformation. And suffering is what motivates us to change. So when we ask the question, “Does it work?” we must understand that to mean, “Does religion enable us to overcome suffering?” For example, we get frustrated when we lose our temper because deep-down we are aware of a greater potential. We know that our responses are limited, that our freedom is restricted by the conditioned reactions of the false-self system and we yearn to throw off the old, tired ways of this false-self. The question is, does religion enable us to accomplish that goal? It depends.
When religion is viewed as a series of truth claims that must be affirmed or denied, it does not have the ability to change our lives. It isn’t even concerned with this life. When you believe in the literal existence of heaven and hell—eternal bliss and eternal damnation—this life loses its significance. Such religion is forced to ignore the concerns of the present moment and obsess over the hereafter. However, if you reject this literalist position, which creates the false dichotomy of “believer vs. atheist,” and accept the claim that there is truth in usefulness, then you recognize the space between atheism and fundamentalism. In this space, religion is free to focus on this life.
When religion is seen not as an answer to the question of existence, but as a sophisticated system of practice that enables us to enter into the experience of Being-itself, then yes, religion has the ability to overcome personal suffering. It has the ability to conquer spiritual death.
The Death and Resurrection of God
The Conflict between Religion and Science
Fundamentalists hang on every word of the Bible. As a result, they cling to an antiquated explanation of the physical universe and in doing so overlook the essential concern of religions thought. Religion is first and foremost concerned with salvation. The word “salvation” comes from the Latin word salvus, meaning “wholeness, completion, good health.” Sure, for centuries religion was a catch-all. To some degree, everyone from St. Augustine to John of the Cross took the Bible’s creation story for granted. Like most people, they were curious about the origins of life and intelligent design was the “science” of their day, but “science” was never their chief concern. Their wheel house was always the health and maintenance of the soul—man’s inner life.
The word spirit comes from the Greek word psykhe or psyche. We tend to associate the term psyche with the brain, but the Greek word to which it owes its origins has a subtler meaning. Spirit is presence or wakefulness. It is the breath of life itself, as in the animating force breathed into Adam’s body. The psyche or the spirit, is the image of God, so to speak.
The imago dei does not explain the phenomenon of being. It is an image or symbol for Being-itself. It is, as Tillich suggested, the “ground of being.” "I am-ness is God's true name and likeness. It is the foundation, the ground, the seed of wakefulness planted in the heart of man. The image of God is also the logos—the structure of our being, which is like a blueprint embedded deep in our body that intuits maturation, wholeness, and realization. It is, in more modern language, the unconscious seeking to become conscious. This inner reconciliation is the essence of salvation and is therefore at the heart of religion, which comes from the Latin word ‘religare’ meaning, “to bind together or unite.”
Religious or spiritual practice (actions that exercise or arouse the psykhe) seeks to unite the unconscious wisdom of the body with the light of awareness, allowing God to be born into the world. Freud saw the unconscious as a sort of blind, unintelligent lusting not to be trusted. Carl Jung saw intelligence, meaning, wholeness, or Holiness in the will of the unconscious. He described libido as “the drive, passion, or will of the spirit (psyche).” Sure, like the wrathful demonstrations of divinity found in the Hebrew Bible, Jung warned of the dangers inherent in a confrontation with the unconscious, but on the whole saw that confrontation as unavoidable and working towards man’s “higher purpose”—salvation, enlightenment, individuation.
Salvation, or our inner-health and well-being, is the great anemia of modern man. We have misplaced our inner-world. Secularization has given birth to more collectivist paradigms, which enable large groups of people with differing points of view to harmoniously inhabit the same space, but unfortunately are incapable of arousing our spirit. While in many ways secularization is a necessary and vital step toward social progress, these external responsibilities do not negate our obligation to our inner world.*
We cannot hope for a peaceful planet when we ourselves are troubled souls. Our body anticipates self-actualization, and failure to consent leads to internal division and suffering. The unconscious demands to be made conscious and “until you make the unconscious conscious,” Jung said, “it will direct your life and you will call it fate.” This drive or journey from potential to kinetic psychic energy—the unification of mind and body—is instinctual. Therefore, spirituality, religion, and myth are intrinsic to man.
The biological and psychological imperative to make the inner journey necessitates a language that renders the instinctual forces of man accessible to his conscious mind. This language is mythology. In short, mythology is the native tongue of the psyche. It is the map of our inner-terrain.
The biological and psychological imperative to make the inner journey necessitates a language that renders the instinctual forces of man accessible to his conscious mind. This language is mythology. In short, mythology is the native tongue of the psyche. It is the map of our inner-terrain.
We must work out our own salvation with fear and trembling, as Paul said in his epistle to the Philippians. Salvation is an individual responsibility. Therefore, it is a subjective journey. It is a journey that requires a map of metaphors and symbols that resonate with us, not objective latitudes and longitudes. The ubiquity of a secular world view is creating a sense of exile or disembodiment within modern man. Secularism has its place, but just as religious symbols cannot be used to answer scientific questions, secular language cannot satisfy spiritual longings.
Secularization is needed in the external world but in the inner world it is impotent. Modern man is becoming increasingly concerned with sterile facts and less observant of his inner world. As already stated, a secular point of view is helpful, even necessary for seven billion people to peacefully share this planet in an increasingly inter-dependent climate, but objectivity is impotent when it crosses the border of our skin into kingdom of our heart. It is incapable of connecting with the forces that stir deep in our psyche. Modern man has replaced his indigenous language with the language of his rational mind. He has replaced symbols with signs and as a result he lives in his head, exiled from the life of the body.
Secularization is needed in the external world but in the inner world it is impotent. Modern man is becoming increasingly concerned with sterile facts and less observant of his inner world. As already stated, a secular point of view is helpful, even necessary for seven billion people to peacefully share this planet in an increasingly inter-dependent climate, but objectivity is impotent when it crosses the border of our skin into kingdom of our heart. It is incapable of connecting with the forces that stir deep in our psyche. Modern man has replaced his indigenous language with the language of his rational mind. He has replaced symbols with signs and as a result he lives in his head, exiled from the life of the body.
“[Signs] do no more than denote the objects to which they are attached,” said Jung. “A word or an image is symbolic when it implies something more than its immediate and obvious meaning. [There is] a wider unconscious that is never precisely defined or explained. Nor can one hope to define or explain it.” This “wider unconscious that is never precisely defined or explained” is the underlying sense of divinity which anticipates the realm of transcendence. It is the Ground of Being.
Signs are definitions or explanations; whereas symbols are gateways through which we can enter into an experience of mystery. When God is used as an explanation, it is fundamentalism or faux-science. The God-sign is dead. But when God is skillfully employed as a symbol, it is a portal through which we can enter into the Power of Being that animates us all. The God-symbol is life giving. The God-symbol, in the words of Joseph Campbell, “points past itself to a ground of meaning and being that is one with the consciousness of the beholder.”
Language enables us to express meaning, which is rooted in our experience. “Man uses the spoken or written word to express the meaning of what he wants to convey,” said Jung. In addition to mythology, poetry, art, and music are all forms of language that resonate with energetic principles embedded in the human psyche and serve as mediums through which these instinctual urges are pressed out into the field of our incarnation.
In this case, the term ‘instinct’ refers to physiological urges or objective phenomena occurring within the envelope of skin and perceived by the senses. These urges are the forces behind the unfolding or the maturation of our human nature. Each of these urges has a distinct character. This character, in the language of Jung, is called an “archetype.” These characters represent the casts of the world's great mythologies.
There is a core pantheon of archetypes that are universal and reoccurring throughout mythology. These archetypes constitute the basic framework of the spiritual journey—the unfolding of our person into the field of our incarnation. They are the shadow, the wise old man, the child, the mother, and the anima (feminine) in man and the animus {masculine} in woman. However, like various rivers emptying into a single monotheistic ocean, all of these archetypes lead back to the original image. This transcendent symbol is the image of God, or as Jung called it, the True Self. This Self is more real than our persona or the mask we wear, which is but a translation. It is the raw, unmediated experience of Being-itself, the Logos.
There is a core pantheon of archetypes that are universal and reoccurring throughout mythology. These archetypes constitute the basic framework of the spiritual journey—the unfolding of our person into the field of our incarnation. They are the shadow, the wise old man, the child, the mother, and the anima (feminine) in man and the animus {masculine} in woman. However, like various rivers emptying into a single monotheistic ocean, all of these archetypes lead back to the original image. This transcendent symbol is the image of God, or as Jung called it, the True Self. This Self is more real than our persona or the mask we wear, which is but a translation. It is the raw, unmediated experience of Being-itself, the Logos.
Of the limitless number of archetypal images that populate the human psyche there is one character of particular importance on the spiritual journey, namely the hero. The hero is the one with which we can all identify. The hero is the one who is willing to make the journey into the unknown. The hero is a spark of inspiration in the human psyche. It is the image in the back of our mind that remembers the innocence of the child, still hears the voice of the old man, and with the compassion and wisdom of the feminine and masculine principles in his arsenal is willing to brave the shadow land in order to reconnect with the True Self and return to the plane of daily life where he gifts himself to the world in which he lives.
The hero is, in short, the sacrificial lamb. It is that quality in the structure of our Being that anticipates the Glory of God and is willing to give up its own life so that this indwelling God may be born into the realm of time and space.
The hero is, in short, the sacrificial lamb. It is that quality in the structure of our Being that anticipates the Glory of God and is willing to give up its own life so that this indwelling God may be born into the realm of time and space.
*Given the current political climate I felt it necessary to qualify my comments on globalization and secularism. I am an advocate of both. They are indispensable mechanisms in the pursuit of social progress and political order. However, man has an obligation to the maintenance of his inner life and this obligation is no less important than his social or civic responsibilities. Secular language is collectivist in nature; whereas spirituality is a deeply individualistic concern. When secular language becomes our only language system, we misplace a vital tool in the service our inner-life.
Modern Spirituality Part 1: Buddhist Meditation & Stress.
Buddhist Spirituality and the Practice of Meditation.
Meditation is a pragmatic approach toward being human.
Rather than discarding anything, the path of meditation invites us to look at whatever arises free of our personal spin. It is a process of befriending yourself by allowing yourself to be as you are in that moment. We do not act out or suppress anything. On the meditation cushion there is nowhere to run.
In meditation, we hold the space as both sides of our internal conflict pour into one another. In this moment, who we are ceases to be a problem. We discover a thread of continuity. It is this uninterrupted and indestructible thread of experience that unites wisdom and ignorance, heaven and hell, or nirvana and samsara. It is the ground from which we emerge.
This radical non-duality has profound implications. First of all, rather than insanity being some solid condition, it is revealed to be the product of an evolutionary chain of events.
In other words, every situation—even the dark and desperate—is workable. Stuck is an illusion.
Second, sanity or wisdom is not some commodity that we have to create or produce—it is self-existing. Awakening is effortless; it is a process of consenting to who or what we are, rather than the indefinite task of becoming me. Finally, we do not have to work our way back through our narrative into the past in order to reconnect with sanity. It is available in every moment of every day. It is the ground from which every moment of every day arises. Confusion is not an obstacle to insight; it is the path to awakening. Wisdom is just the observation of confusion.
What is Stress?
We tend to associate stress with personality. It was the research of Stanford biologist, Robert Sapolsky that revolutionized the way we think about stress. He discovered that stress was an innate feature key to the survival of our species. He uncovered the thread of continuity that connects stress with basic intelligence.
Stress is not a personality trait. It is a natural mechanism found in most sentient organisms, which is triggered during life and death situations.
Sapolsky defines stress as follows, “a stressor is a challenge to homeostatic balance—a real physical challenge in the world—and the stress-response is the adaptation your body mobilizes to re-establish homeostasis.” A stressor is a challenge to the biological balance that supports life, while stress is the body’s response to that challenge. In short, stress is the fight or flight mechanism triggered in life or death situations. But, at least in theory, once stability is restored the stress response should dissipate.
For example, there is an antelope peacefully grazing in an African meadow. Then, suddenly a lion appears from behind the brush. It is the stress response that shuts down all of the antelope’s auxiliary functions, such as healing and ovulation, and redistributes that energy to more visceral features relevant to the antelope’s immediate survival. It is stress that dilates the pupils, increases the heart rate and the energy reserve by secreting stress hormones (adrenaline and cortisol), in order to power the muscles instrumental in running and fighting. Once the lion is out of sight, the antelope replenishes its calorie reserve, and reinstates its auxiliary functions. It returns to a state of rest. For obvious reasons, stress is not only helpful, it is key to our survival.
Ummmm, why do I react to a talkative cash register attendant like an antelope reacts to a lion?
Well, just like the antelope, we get startled or panicked. There is a sudden shock or trauma—a burst of energy we are incapable of consciously relating to. This much is obvious. Only, in our case, seldom is there a lion or any tangible threat to our life. With humans, stress is triggered by a psychological event. Your expectation of a speedy check out is not met, and suddenly you are knocked off balance by your re-entry into reality. Then comes the stress inducing realization that you are going to be late for your meeting. To make matters worse, the cyclical nature of human psychology and the inability of our conscious brain to control more primal regions of our anatomy transforms stress into a chronic or habitual tendency with catastrophic effects.
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Robert Sapolsky.
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The stress response shuts down all secondary features, including healing, while your body is busy trying to defend itself against the psychological attack you’ve launched against yourself. As a result, it is not clearing plaque from your arteries, fighting off infection, or repairing the effects of metabolism. Therefore, not only the quality of your life deteriorates, but your actual life span shrinks. Neurotic stress dramatically increases the risk of heart disease, heart attack, gastro-intestinal complications, depression, anxiety, obesity, and a host of other health problems. Plus, it increases the likelihood that we will develop secondary health problems—complications resulting from unhealthy coping mechanisms—such as, alcohol and drug addiction, diabetes, and sleep disorders.
Why do we experience neurotic stress but antelopes don’t?
First of all, the conditions have to be operable. Essentially, we are talking about the development of confusion within the confines of stress: If basic sanity is the foundation, where did insanity or confusion come from? Or, if stress is fundamentally intelligent why do we experience it as a form of neurosis?
Insanity is a point of view disconnected from the revelation of direct experience. The development of insanity begins with a subtle but profound shift of awareness: We mistake the direct experience of Self with the tendency to think about our selves. This is triggered by the installation of the word ‘I.’ The word ‘I’ has no symbolic value; it is incapable of pointing past itself. It is only capable of referring to that which made the reference. Therefore, we get stuck in a self-oriented or self-centered cycle of thought. But ‘I’ did not just fall out of the sky. It was installed when we uploaded language. So, the conditions are made operable with the acquisition of language. Antelopes do not have words. Therefore, they do not have neurotic stress.
Now the stage is set for development of neurotic stress…
“There is a sudden shock or trauma—a burst of energy we are incapable of consciously relating to.”
We become obsessed with ‘that’ eruption of energy. It is our tunnel vision that transforms the spacious or fluid quality of energy or life situations into ‘that.’ This fixation appears to solidify space, but, in truth, it just creates a blind-spot. Like watching a shiny new car drive down the street, we ignore the space surrounding the object—the undefined, unformed quality of Being that constitutes our basic nature. This ignor-ance—the refusal to look at the blind-spot—is the basis of confusion.
The fixation with ‘that’ implies ‘this.’ The implied ‘this’ is nothing more than a self-conscious recognition of the blind-spot; while ‘that’ represents the quality of life. So, ‘this’ is cut-off or disconnected from life. It is empty. Furthermore, this blind-spot is associated with ‘I.’ So, I am empty or discontented—without content or meaning. I feel lifeless. This transforms my life into the search for meaning, content, and vitality.
How is this a life and death situation?
It is important to remember that this entire situation, apart from the basic eruption of energy, is played out on a psychological level. So, we’re talking about a psychological death. The material used to construct this psycho-scenario is thought. Following the acquisition of language, thought is largely in part governed by the rules of grammar. These rules require that a subject and object be verbing with one another in order to form a complete sentence. So, self-completion or the attainment of meaning, purpose, or content is contingent upon the co-dependent relationship between “that and this”, or self and other.
Just as left and right depend upon one another for definition, “self” requires the reference point of “other” in order to establish personality. ‘I’ acquires form, identity, or a role to play through relationship with objects in its environment. By labeling someone an enemy, ‘I’ obtains direction or a role to play. When ‘I’ names other “wife,” it spontaneously attains the title of “husband.” In a mind governed by language, ‘this’ is defined by its relationship with ‘that’, and vice versa.
When the relationship with ‘other’ is threatened, the identity of ‘self’ is also called into question. “I am the husband.” This one simple statement has far reaching implications. It is impregnated with a series of expectations: “I am the bread winner. I am the head of the house hold.” So, when the husband gets laid off, and it is his wife’s pay check that puts food on the table, his identity is called into question. ‘I’ no longer adds up, because it cannot fulfill the self-imposed expectations of a husband. From an established ego’s point of view, its life is being threatened.
How does neurotic stress become chronic stress?
The sophistication of confusion or the birth and development of ego is how the life and death situation is dealt with. Interestingly enough, it is also how it was created.
The ego is a pattern of consciousness. It is the conscious brain’s attempt to manage the stress response or eliminate threats to its stability. Unfortunately, the thinking brain is incapable of accessing the unconscious mind for the same reason a baby cannot give birth to its mother. The stress response originates in the amygdala, which is located in the oldest part of the mind, the limbic system. The un-conscious is pre-conscious—the primal mind happens before the ego. So, the ego is incapable of turning off the stress response.
To make matters worse, ‘this’ is defined by ‘that.’ The ego was installed to manage traumas. So, the fact that the alarm is still sounding is, from the ego’s point of view, a traumatic event. It calls into question the legitimacy and therefore the identity of the ego. We are stuck in a vicious cycle. “There is a sudden shock or trauma—a burst of energy we are incapable of consciously relating to…”
Revolving around the notion of ‘I’ as it does, ego-centric consciousness cannot consent to its own death. It is incapable of acknowledging its own impotence, because it cannot entertain any other possibility apart from itself. This is why ignore-ance is the basis of ego. ‘I’ is a sign that can only reference itself. Therefore, it will always nominate itself for the job when the alarm sounds…even if it was the one that pulled the chord!
Neurotic stress is chronic because the criminal is in charge of the crime scene.
Is there any way to obtain freedom from self?
While the ego might be intrinsically ignore-ant, it is not stupid. In fact, the ego is brilliant. When the cycle is re-triggered, rather than giving up or trying the exact same thing again, it comes at the threat from a different angle. All egos are essentially the same. On the basis of ignore-ance, they establish separation, and define their position in relationship to other. Once they have their footing they begin to develop their own unique properties. In an effort to more successfully manage their environment, egos develop personality programs or defense mechanisms.
These personalities are like costume changes. They still seek to control or manage the situation, but with their own style. Fundamentally, they emerge from basic intelligence, but they are tainted by self-consciousness. It is insecurity—the self-conscious wake of the trauma—that characterizes these personalities. It is a lingering thought in the back of our mind that remembers when we got hurt. It knows that we are defenseless, completely vulnerable. It is this simple fear that drives the ego, and each of these personalities is a sort of echo of that fear.
“There is a thread of continuity. It is this uninterrupted and indestructible thread of experience that unites wisdom and ignorance, heaven and hell, or nirvana and samsara. It is the ground from which we emerge.” These various styles of neurosis have their origins in our physiological inheritance or instincts. In other words, each of these personalities is grounded in the voice of basic sanity. In order to move beyond the debilitating cycle these personalities mask, we will have to reconnect with this voice of basic intelligence. This is the voice of the body.
This Is Your Brain On Meditation.
My latest article on Elephant Journal, This Is Your Brain On Meditation, looks at the health benefits of meditation practice. The article is based on the most popular New York Times Article of this past week. The article confirmed that science is finding that meditation is a healthy practice... But I also explore the consequences of these claims.
Click here to read the whole article.
Click here to read the whole article.
Labels:
meditation,
Science
Quantum Contemplation.
"I have said, Ye are gods; and all of you are children of the most High."
This is long, and at times wordy post... But I am working towards a point, and I hope you will endure until that point is made!
Quantum Physics foundation was discovered by Werner Heisenberg.
It was Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principle
that seemed to organize Quantum Physics into a scientific discipline. That is not to say that Heisenberg was not standing on the shoulders of some giants, such as Albert Einstein
and Max Plank.
However, with the inception of the Uncertainty Principle, the explanation of Quantum Physics began to paint a much different picture of reality than the already accepted views of classical physics or relativity. So while it was the work of Einstein that paved the way for the quantum revolution, it was the work of Heisenberg that established quantum mechanics as a distinct school of thought.
The Uncertainty Principle also bridges the art of physics with that of the contemplative traditions. Heisenberg noticed that in an experiment you can not separate the observed from the observer. Now I am not suggesting that the physicist were speaking about the same sort of thing, as say Tagore
(although Tagore's meeting with Heisenberg did have a deep impact on Heisenberg), but I am suggesting that the contemplatives are speaking of the same principle that Heisenberg discovered with his Uncertainty Principle. Simply put, while the physicist point of view does not necessarily include the position of the contemplatives, the explanation provided by the contemplatives does include the position held by the scientist. The contemplatives are describing the human condition in its simplest form, therefore their position is pervasive. The contemplatives have long since understood that the observer and the observed are of ‘one substance.’ This is a fact that any Trinitarian Christian can easily appreciate, as this was the revelation of Christ, and Christian faith is constructed upon this very principle. At any rate, in principle this insight seems to be essentially the same.
With the advent of the Uncertainty Principle, the line between observer and observed became blurred. Scientists, being a rationale group of people, took some time to get acclimated with this newly discovered atmosphere of non-duality. Sometime later, prominent physicists, such as John Wheeler
, began to make suggestions like replacing the term observer with ‘participator’ in order to more adequately explain the role of consciousness in the process of experimentation. This concept of non-duality is something most scientist grapple with... However many of us struggle with this as well. We have a hard time understanding our role in the environment. Perhaps this is most observable in our daily life with intimate relationships. While, for the physicist this struggle is most evident in their relationship with energy.
At this point, things begin to reach a level of technicality that exceeds my elementary understanding of physics. If I understand correctly, the confusion surrounding energy seems to lie in the fact that you cannot really observe it, but only participate in its creation. This nebulous relationship between consciousness and energy is referred to as the wave-particle duality. I believe this strange dynamic was first made evident in the attempts to observe the electron. It seems fairly evident that the wave-particle duality is not a problem presented by nature, but just another reminder that a dualistic system, such as language, is an inadequate medium for describing the non-dual nature of reality. Heisenberg himself said, “Light and matter are both single entities, and the apparent dualities arises in the limitations of our language.” It is not that basic awareness or wisdom cannot reflect the subtle nature of reality. In fact, this pure reflection is the ultimate meaning of participation.
All of our difficulty seems to arise when we try to own that experience or freeze it through conceptual mediums, as this requires division. Such division is unnatural, and gives rise to a plethora of philosophical quagmires. Heisenberg alluded to this when he said, “There is a fundamental error in separating the parts from the whole.” In the case of physics, you end up with two opposing terms attempting to explain the same thing. If the experimenter measures the position of an electron they will discover a particle, but if they try to ascertain its momentum they will discover a wave. It is a situation which left Heisenberg so baffled that after a long conversation with Neils Bohr
, the father of Quantum echanics, he said, “Can nature be so absurd as it appeared to us in these atomic experiments?”. The exact nature of the electron seemed to be no exact nature at all!
All of our difficulty seems to arise when we try to own that experience or freeze it through conceptual mediums, as this requires division. Such division is unnatural, and gives rise to a plethora of philosophical quagmires. Heisenberg alluded to this when he said, “There is a fundamental error in separating the parts from the whole.” In the case of physics, you end up with two opposing terms attempting to explain the same thing. If the experimenter measures the position of an electron they will discover a particle, but if they try to ascertain its momentum they will discover a wave. It is a situation which left Heisenberg so baffled that after a long conversation with Neils Bohr
While once again, physics may not be intentionally describing the same thing that the contemplatives are alluding to, they are tapping into the all pervasive principle of non-duality, which these contemplative lineages have been pointing at for centuries. This idea of a ‘participatory universe’ or co-creation is not only alluded to in the Upanishads, but is perhaps the most beautiful and poetic description of this principle ever uttered. The Upanishads says, “Then he realized I am this creation, for I have poured it forth from myself. In this way He became this creation. In verily, he who knows this becomes in this creation a creator.” In addition to the principle of participation, the indefinable nature of energy begins to point towards the notion of spaciousness or possibilities.
The definite nature of the electron cannot be ascertained through traditional experimentation because you can not measure both its position and momentum simultaneously. Since measuring movement and location are incompatible modes of experimentation, quantum physics speaks only in terms of statistical probabilities. The statistical language of probabilities is a devastating blow to the scientific determinism or hydraulic order imposed upon nature by Newtonian mechanics. Such language only recognizes the spacious environment of possibilities. This spacious environment has led to several subsequent quantum interpretations of physics such as Hugh Everett and John Wheeler’s “Many Worlds” theory, where it is basically stated that all possible outcomes come to pass.
How does this physics rant apply to my daily life?
Now bringing all of this down into practical experience, into the contemplative realm. We need to ask ourselves only one question, “What in God’s name does this have to do with my daily life?” In order to answer this question, we will travel to Tibet. The monastic environment of Tibet, up until the communist invasion, resembled the great academic institutions of the West, except instead of producing physicist, they were producing contemplatives. Some of the greatest contemplatives in history came from Tibet. People such as Milarepa
, Sakya Pandita
, Tsongkhapa
, Longchenpa
, Patrul Rinpoche
, and many others- all recognized the pervasive qualities of the very principles that physicist only began to discover in the late 19th century. While the life blood of Buddhism in Tibet was the Vajrayana, the foundation of all Buddhist practice in Tibet was the Mahayana. The whole of the Mahayana vehicle is communicated by the practice known as the Four Immeasurables.
The Four Immeasurables
are comprised of four eternal principles, which are unveiled with four meditations known as equanimity, loving-kindness, compassion, and joy. I have chosen to look at this system of practice not because I think other systems are lacking validity, but because the practice of the Four Immeasurables directly confronts three themes that we have already discussed at considerable length: (1) the observer and the observed, (2) measurement, and (3) possibilities. In this short experiment known as the Four Immeasurables, all of the points explored earlier are laid bare in our daily life.
This contemplative experiment deals with the system of measurement employed by people in order to quantify their surroundings. When the physicist uses a system of measurement in order to discover the exact position of an electron, he finds a particle. But when trying to measure the momentum of an electron he stumbles upon a wave. Similarly, when we try to measure the exact position, of say our relationships, relative to consciousness (accumulated personal fears and expectations) we arrive at intrinsic, static, or particle- like conclusions. When we measure the position of some ‘particular’ person in our environment, using our personal ambitions and apprehensions as the measuring stick, we see them in a particle-like fashion: as an inherent friend, enemy, or irrelevant bystander. Only instead of calling them particles or waves, we call them good, bad, and indifferent. These are predetermined conclusions we are projecting upon our environment. In this way the “observer” interferes with the “observation” by formulating the outcome, via the chosen system of measurement, which in this case are our fears and expectations. The problem is not one of nature, but rather a problem imposed by our chosen system of measurement. When measured by consciousness, the people in our environment who reinforce our preconceived ideas and contribute in a desirable way to our plans are labeled as friends. However, those who do not fit into our static mold, or are seen to be in collision with our aspirations and antagonistic in respect to our fears are labeled as an enemy. In other cases, those who do not seem to fit into our scheme in either a positive or negative way are seen as irrelevant bystanders.
Interestingly enough, if we try to measure the momentum of these relationships, much like an electron, they appear to be lacking in solidity or wave like. In other words, when observing the movement of these relationships through space-time they appear just as an electron does, with highs and lows. It is easy to recall people that use to be our close friends, and now it has been years since we have spoken with them. We can also easily identify instances where people who were once some of the most obnoxious people in our lives have strangely morphed into some of our closest friends. Perhaps most common are the people whom we know of, but do not have any strong feelings for either way, but through interactions over time have become people we either love or despise. This sort of wave like function observed in our relationships is extremely clear in our more intimate relations with friends or loved ones, where we may think the world of them one day, and the next day the mere mention of their name rattles our cage.
Looking a little deeper into the role of the observer in our daily observations, we can also see where relativity begins to creep into the equation. The observer, consciousness, is itself a particle like state. Consciousness is the frozen conceptualized sum total of the conditioned memory. In other words, when we are observing someone or some thing from an ego-centric station or a particular ‘point’ of view, consciousness itself is in particle mode. This particle is the position of ego or frozen sum total of all our conditioned ambitions and apprehensions at this particular time. Consciousness in particle mode is like a snapshot of its movement over time. It is this particular mode of consciousness that enables different observers to produce different observations of the same phenomena, all declaring equal validity. Some people will look upon the people we love with contempt, while others will see those we despise as the best of friends.
The wave like function of consciousness is just as easily observable, although it is seldom accepted. It is in these periods of time that we experience insecurity, as it is at this point that we are unable to ascertain where in the world we are located. In the same way that in physics the wave-particle duality is not a problem of truth as Einstein saw it, but a problem of language as Heisenberg saw it, the wave-particle duality of consciousness is not a problem of truth, but of our absolute insistence on defining it in dualistic-conceptual terms.
The only hope of resolving this dilemma is found in transcending the observer and observed dynamic, by recognizing a unified system of life or an integrated organism-environment in which we are ‘participators.’
The only hope of resolving this dilemma is found in transcending the observer and observed dynamic, by recognizing a unified system of life or an integrated organism-environment in which we are ‘participators.’
So it seems obvious that in the observation of life the observer plays a key and problematic role. In fact, it would seem that the observer, at least on a conceptual level, creates the psychological world that it inhabits. The self centered system of measurement employed by the experimenter, coupled with the unquestioning belief in ‘our’ conclusions, which then feed back into the ego-centric system of measurement produces the stationary, hydraulic, and self replicating egotistical environment known as consciousness. The first aspect of the Four Immeasurables, equanimity, looks directly at and challenges all of these points. It is through the practice of equanimity that the rigid structure of consciousness is transcended and the spaciousness of pure being is discovered.As we continue with the practice of the Four Immeasurables we are primarily participating in the world beyond cause and effect. A word of caution maybe appropriate here, as it is not that cause and effect are discarded. As the conceptual framework is not obliterated, but simply put in its place, as a relative explanation subject to the limitations of language. Cause and effect are also still present as the laws of these finite interactions. The disillusionment of the subject-object dynamic or the revelation that the observer is in fact no observer at all, but a participator, is the point where all dualistic constructs begin to crumble, and we wake up in a world of self existing truth. In isness life is revealed to simply be at an essential level, which our commentary doesn’t have the capacity to penetrate. In fact, it is this state of essential being that enables thought to remain fresh and precise. In this way, isness could be understood to be the ground of being for all “things”, including thought. This isness in contemplative language is often referred to as love, and is the second aspect of the Four Immeasurable.
Although on paper or at first glance it may not seem to be the case, the language of statistical probabilities used by the physicists, and the love constantly mentioned by the contemplatives are one in the same thing. In principle, they both represent the spacious environment which allows for possibilities or ‘many worlds.’ Both arise out of the recognition of limitations, but not the limitations of man, rather the finite limits of intellectualization. The intellect is incapable of completely grasping nature, and it is this recognition that gives rise to love. In this context love is not meant in the affectionate sense, but as a spacious state of mind that naturally arises when the limitations of conceptualization are accepted. It is this spaciousness or centerless state of basic awareness that enables the environment to be as it is without our incessant need to force the environment to conform to our conceptual mold. Others are allowed to be themselves without having to defend themselves against our self-centered tendency to cling to them, aggressive attempts to push them away, or dismissing them as irrelevant. This spaciousness, love, or statistical probability is little more than the recognition that life is at it is, and that we are not fundamentally set apart from this isness, but are in truth representatives of truth, “begotten, not made, of one substance with the Father.” This phrase, “of one substance” means that as ‘sons’ or manifestations of truth we are in essence one with truth, or in other words we are not observers, but co-creators. This principle is powerfully put forward in the 82nd Psalm
, “I have said, Ye are gods; and all of you are children of the most High.”
Although on paper or at first glance it may not seem to be the case, the language of statistical probabilities used by the physicists, and the love constantly mentioned by the contemplatives are one in the same thing. In principle, they both represent the spacious environment which allows for possibilities or ‘many worlds.’ Both arise out of the recognition of limitations, but not the limitations of man, rather the finite limits of intellectualization. The intellect is incapable of completely grasping nature, and it is this recognition that gives rise to love. In this context love is not meant in the affectionate sense, but as a spacious state of mind that naturally arises when the limitations of conceptualization are accepted. It is this spaciousness or centerless state of basic awareness that enables the environment to be as it is without our incessant need to force the environment to conform to our conceptual mold. Others are allowed to be themselves without having to defend themselves against our self-centered tendency to cling to them, aggressive attempts to push them away, or dismissing them as irrelevant. This spaciousness, love, or statistical probability is little more than the recognition that life is at it is, and that we are not fundamentally set apart from this isness, but are in truth representatives of truth, “begotten, not made, of one substance with the Father.” This phrase, “of one substance” means that as ‘sons’ or manifestations of truth we are in essence one with truth, or in other words we are not observers, but co-creators. This principle is powerfully put forward in the 82nd Psalm
Within this sort of spacious environment ‘participation’ naturally begins to take place, which in contemplative language is referred to as compassion. Within the practice of equanimity the discovery is made that the observer and the observed are of a single substance. In some sense, this is the death of the observer or the ego, but it is not the end of life. As life continues on without the domineering centralized authority of the observe,r participation naturally begins to take place. Looking past the conceptual realm of affairs it is realized that “we” are manifestations of the infinite, of a single substance or shared humanity. Through basic intelligence or simple awareness we see past the superficial appearances of things and personalities, and into the essential nature of truth. The recognition and participation with this shared nature is compassion. It is truth or love recognizing itself through likeness. So, complete participation occurs when the mechanical laws of cause and effect, as established through the imputation of dualistic conceptual mediums, cease to dictate ‘our’ relationships with ‘other’, and instead wisdom or basic awareness reflects the integrated nature of reality, upon which this unified ground of being serves as the foundation for all interactions. In this way, true participation is similar to dancing, in that when two competent people dance they move in unison to the music, instead of one having to follow the others lead.
Finally we come to joy, the final aspect of the Four Immeasurables. Joy is nothing more than the discovery of mind in its natural state. It is the utter simplicity of being lost in the music. This state of mind is discovered once the alien forces of illusion cease to act upon us. It is not that the underlying energies of such forces as anxiety, stress, or anger are destroyed; rather they are simply put in their rightful place. When the observer or centralized authority dissolved into the integrated whole, there was no longer some entity for these forces to act upon. Hence joy naturally emerged. Joy is nothing more than the absence of the effects produced by the misunderstanding that we are ‘particular’ entities, apart from life, and charged with the task of best arranging it to suit ourselves. In a life where simply living is the end, joy emerges as the true nature of mind.
Physicist David Bohm
, explained the underlying principles of Hindu philosophy as such, “Atman (true Self) is the meaning… What is meant would be Brahman (Essential Truth)… This claims that what is meant and the meaning are ultimately one…” In closing we will bring his remarks into a more general language, and hopefully make his remarks, along with this entire paper, more accessible. Living is the meaning. We are not a noun, but a verb- we are living. Life is what is meant. Living is the manifestation of life, the two can not be separated. In other words, the joy in life is living.
Enjoy the song-lecture thingy! It is an awesome video...
Enjoy the song-lecture thingy! It is an awesome video...
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