Culture transformed.

Transforming our culture

Nothing is ever lost. Instead, all matter transforms in the readiness of time. This is true for everything, and particularly at the present time. The pandemic is transforming lives throughout the planet in ways nobody could anticipate. People, plants, animals, and every other being from large to small never truly dies. Nothing essential is lost, and when the time is ripe, transformation happens. While our attention is focused (nearly exclusively) on adapting to the COVID pandemic, the global environmental catastrophe marches on.

Rising climate temperatures heat water, which then rises as vapor into the cooler upper atmosphere. The jet-stream moves the vapor, and when the time and conditions are right, the vapor transforms into droplets of rain, again falling to the earth, and the cycle continues. Everything transforms, even entire cultures go through the cycle of life and become a different sort of culture once the previous one becomes corrupt, and we learn what we can from victories and failures.

The movement from one thing into another is an ongoing evolution (at times, revolution) and flows seamlessly in steps too small to notice. And when the moment of transition comes, it is always preceded by something resembling death. These two: life and death, define each other. Neither can exist without the other. Of course, we consider death the final end and don’t connect it to new birth. Think about it: Without a seed falling to the earth, where the outer shell dies (exposing the inner embryo), nothing new will grow. The pangs of birth are always accompanied by pain. Doubt that? Ask any woman who has given birth. This very same process happens culturally. Nothing lasts in its present form.

Consider the following…

1. Religion: Dualism: mankind trapped between good and evil and separated from God.
2. Politics: Two-party systems in opposition.
3. Wealth distribution: I earned mine; get your own.
4. Interpersonal relationships: Me versus you—If I’m right, you must be wrong—Confrontation.
5. Self-awareness: I look in the mirror and don’t like what I see, unaware that the self looking in the mirror is the opposite of what is seen. The reflection of me is flawed. The one doing the seeing is not.
6. Morality: There is right and wrong, irreconcilably opposed to each other.
7. Interpersonal (or cultural) exchange: Mine.
8. Honesty: Sometimes yes, sometimes no (depending on how it may affect me).
9. Justice: Guilty or innocent, determined through an adversarial contest. “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.”

So what can we notice about where our own culture stands from various vantage points? Are there any commonalities across the different structural parts that might allow this reverse engineering? How do every day, connected activities function concerning such matters as the administration of justice, religion, politics, wealth distribution, relationships, self-awareness, morality, honesty, or interpersonal and cultural exchange? All of these segments represent the infrastructure of our culture. Can we notice anything in common across these dimensions? Is there a central thread that ties the different segments together? And if so, what would that thread be?

I’m going out on a “limb” (pun intended) and venture a guess that most people are unaware of the progressions and transforming underpinnings upon which they base their lives and extended—similar underpinnings upon which their culture is based. We go unaware of the happenings beneath the surface of our lives, and we can learn a lot about ourselves by noticing what occurs beneath the soil with trees. We see only the trunk, limbs, leaves and don’t need to see the root to know they are there. There, beneath the soil, the trees are connected, rejuvenating the dead with life-giving nutrients.

Such underpinnings become assumed givens that go unnoticed, unquestioned, and become governing norms. We are born into a particular culture and become conditioned by these norms. We continue with our lives until what we are doing stops working, and we try one solution after another, trying to recapture what is already something different. That being said, it is possible to stand back and consider how a given culture functions and then back into a probable philosophic structure, sort of like reverse engineering.

The observation: All of these expressions reflect attitudes based on an assumed principle, which the Greek philosophers established a long time ago, namely the Principle of Non-Contradiction. In simple terms, non-contradiction means something can’t be the same as a different thing, at the same time in the same place. And this perspective has established the fundamental basis of discrimination, meaning one thing versus something opposed to the first thing. The principle seems immanently logical and has driven Western Civilization ever since Plato proposed the idea in 380 BCE. His attempt was to provide a consistent structure as the definition of justice and the character of the just city-state and the just man. The essential question is this: Does this logical perspective result in what Plato intended, “…the order and character of the just city-state and the just man?”

Or perhaps a more pertinent question is (In Dr. Phill’s terms): how is this working out? One observation (my own) is that the principle results in the opposite of what Plato intended. Instead, the result is an attitude of deference, superiority, alienation, self-righteousness, imbalance, justice determined more by financial resources than anything else, a polarized culture, and a loss of morality and confidence in the future.

Nevertheless, this philosophy continues on with progressively prominent degrees of this downward spiral of opposition. The answer to why this seems to be, is perhaps that it forces cultural participants to become occupied more and more with their own exclusive concerns at the expense of others.

And in answer to the central-thread question, perhaps what binds these all together with similar outcomes is how we feel about ourselves as isolated and fear-ridden beings. Perhaps we misunderstand that what we truly are is an eternal and unified spirit—one being trying on different human roles, evolving until we realize who we are: A single unified being, similar to the underground network of mushrooms. 

“All religions speak about death during this life on earth. Death must come before rebirth. But what must die? False confidence in one’s own knowledge, self-love, and egoism. Our egoism must be broken.”

This culture is transforming from one way to a better way and it, like all things, must die and rise again.

Beyond 911—Over the cliff

It has been 15 years since 911, and it’s time to dust off a previous post that was painful to write and perhaps painful to read. I wrote about the side of a veteran’s life that nobody wanted to hear. We much prefer to bathe in the glory of war and avoid the aftermath. But as one who fought and has an aftermath, I thought it was important to paint the whole portrait.

Similarly, some time ago I wrote a book (The Non-Identity Crisis) that has the following on the dedication page:

“This book is dedicated, not to a person, but rather to an idea: the eradication of war and the end of suffering. In particular what I have to say in this book is dedicated to all who have experienced anguish resulting from the tragedy of 911. I write as a fallen warrior with my own wounds inflicted during a previous conflict—The Vietnam War. True for all warriors of any and ever war, the scars never go away, even the ones that lay buried deep in your mind. We learn mostly from our own suffering and if we wish to not keep repeating it, the only ones who can chart a new course are us.”

In this book I write a lot about what war is really like when we scratch away the veneer of glory. We are living in the aftermath of 911, Osama Bin Laden is now dead, and our actions years later reflect this trauma. Bin Laden is now gone but his legacy is not. There is a message in this book that addresses both our responsive actions and moving beyond the trap. I’d like to share with you a perspective from the book that may not been immediately evident:

“When you kill another, sooner or later their surviving loved ones will come after you. War is the ultimate failure of the human family and if we ever hope to live in peace we are the only ones who can create the conditions for that to happen. What we are doing right now around the world is continuing the legacy of war and thereby guaranteeing future conflicts. What I have to say throughout this book is how to end it. Holding onto the desire for vengeance and justification for killing that emanated from 911 virtually insures our collective downfall. The mantra of ‘Never Forget’ is a banner for that downfall and only appropriate for those who never fought. For those of us who have fought, we must forget and forgive or go insane. What Bin Laden started but couldn’t finish on 911—to bring down our culture—we may do to ourselves due to our attachment to revenge at all cost. Did he anticipate our predictable response? It’s impossible to say, but a fundamental rule of warfare is to know your enemy and goad him into a trap of his own making.”

If we are sincere in wishing to honor the sacrifices of our young men and women who so valiantly offer themselves to defend our way of life, the best way of doing that is to stop the insane path we are presently following, bring our warriors home and pay for their healing and restoring their lives.

Surrendering from Expectations

Everything except essence is fleeting and will come to an end. That was the message Alan Watts made in his book, “The Wisdom of Insecurity.” 

The passing of some things is quicker than others. A Galapagos Land Tortoise lives close to 200 years. Some life forms come and go in a matter of days. The parasitic wasp, for example, lives as an adult for 3 days or less. As far as we know, the universe since the Big Bang has lasted 13.7 billion years, but it too will end at some point.

Life looks long, but by nature, an end there must be.

Whatever flourishes always wanes; met, one must part.

The prime of manhood is not long;

Luxuriance meets with illness.

Life is swallowed by death; nothing exists eternally.”

Holding on to fleeting form invites suffering. The book of Ecclesiastes begins and ends with:

“Meaningless! Meaningless! Says the teacher. Utterly meaningless! Everything is meaningless”.

Chapter 2 of the Mahaparinirvana Sutra says,

“In all the world, whatever is born must die.

The message is the same. These forms of vapor are easier to see than mental fixations, but the rule still applies. Take, for example, the mental obsession of expectations. We start each day with a set of expectations. We expect clear skies, so we don’t take an umbrella. We hope it will take a particular amount of time to travel from our homes to our destinations. We expect certain acceptable conditions in our environment. Any one of these expectations may or may not come about. If they do, we are pleased. If they don’t, we become upset. Our emotions and repose balance on a razor’s edge of outcomes to expectations. Nobody can predict exactly what will happen in the future, so we walk a fine line and hope for the best.

Often, when things don’t turn out the way we want, we try to force a different outcome. If that fails, we may increase the heat and intensity, believing that we can dominate and prevail. What is not noticed is the interdependent connection to this forcing. From one side, there is shoving. From the other side, there is being pushed, which simply invites a responsive shove. What started with our pressing turns into being shoved back, which then invites more back-and-forth shoving. Some nations and people have been pushing back-and-forth for so long nobody can remember who made the first shove.

It is impossible to function without making predictions, having hopes, and expecting certain conditions. The problem is what happens when our predictions go south. Becoming attached to the outcome is the problem. The secret of emotional stability and release from self-righteousness is to surrender from outcomes. In truth, results are not the product of our isolated actions. Both Krishna and the Buddha said: The greatest effort is not concerned with results. We just do our best and release from success or failure. 

There is, however, a most subtle difference between having no expectations (and possibly no action) of attempting to shape outcomes. I have written concerning this delicate balance in a post In the world: enlightened social responsibility. The story of John Chapman (known as Johnny Appleseed) is instructive in this regard. You can read about what this means in another post: Cleaning house.

It is of vital importance to work for the common good and not withdraw. Ultimately the outcome of any action is not exclusively our own. Our ideas may last an instant or as long as the universe, but they will always be approximate—just reflections on the surface of shimmering water.  

Small steps.

Often, I’ve found myself faced with seemingly insurmountable challenges and felt as if I needed to swallow the entire ocean in a single gulp. The only result of that approach was fear, inaction, and coughing up the imagined impossibility. 

But after failing, I came to my senses and remembered an ancient bit of wisdom offered by the Chinese sage Lao Tzu, roughly 2,600 hence. 

“Do the difficult things while they are easy and do the great things while they are small. A journey of a thousand miles must begin with a single step.” 

The words of Lao Tzu are as useful today as they were a long time ago.

A friend sent me a link to words of wisdom offered by the oldest living person. He just happens to be a Zen man and offered similar thoughts concerning a healthy life. They are worth your time reading. I confess to having a problem with one of his tips: to have no choices but rather accept everything as it comes. 

Like everything, the tip has two sides. One side is the peace that comes with feeling the smooth caress of the winds of change on your face in the coolness of the morning breeze. The other side is to get out of the hurricanes of life before devastation occurs. Those are the two sides spoken of by Lao Tzu in the first sentence of the above quote.

Knowing when to stay and when to leave takes art and experience, and both this ancient sage and the world’s oldest man agree, as I do, that breaking down giant challenges into small pieces makes for manageable tasks. Importantly is that first assessment of staying or moving. To inform that assessment, we can turn, not to an ancient sage, but rather to Mark Cane, the contemporary American climate scientist who advises, 

“The first step toward success is taken when you refuse to be a captive of the environment in which you first find yourself.”

Regardless, there is always the first, small step or sip of water. Picking and choosing, as well as the wisdom of recognizing our self-imposed captivity, are seeming contradictions, but that is the true nature of Zen: To hold no fixed perspectives but rather use expedient means—upaya-Kausalya, measured and dictated by unfolding and unanticipated circumstances. How very different such advice is from the embedded and rigid ideologies of today.

Simple complexity.

I’ve been a student of Zen for more than 40 years. During that time I must have read hundreds of Buddhist and Zen books. To be honest nearly all of them were profound yet abstruse. 

Transcendent truths can be perplexing for a number of reasons. Since language is limited and reading is language-centered, this constrains understanding of changing time and cultures. It’s an oil and water conundrum. Additionally, what is considered truth is a variable depending on a host of changing conditions. Mining profound treasures involve a lot of digging and dirt tossing. And after the mining, you still have a problem: How to transmit the gold to others.

Long ago Lao Tzu addressed this problem when he said, “The Tao that can be told is not the eternal Tao. The name that can be named is not the eternal name.” That is indeed a perplexing communication challenge. As I’ve worked through this challenge I have struggled to distill and shift out the dirt so that I could speak simply of matters that are anything but simple and obvious.

I’ve studied the writing of the great sages and seers to understand their wisdom. Jesus chose to speak in parables. The New Testament is full of his parables. The Buddha chose similar methods. Both were so erudite their own disciples rarely grasped their insight. And while these methods worked with some, the vast majority still didn’t understand. Life’s greatest truths are not so evident. I’m no sage but I use their communications methods since I am persuaded that if I can find ways to share the wealth of my own mining then a lot of people can begin to find their own treasure. 

One of the most valuable communication tools used by The Buddha is known as “Upaya” — expedient means. The principle is simple: Teach people at their level rather than your own. This method is extraordinarily wise. Imagine what would happen in a Kindergarten class if the Ph.D. teacher tried to teach nuclear physics by employing high-level jargon. It doesn’t mean that young people one day won’t be capable of becoming nuclear physicists. But there is a huge difference between knowing something and being an effective teacher. All of us have experienced both and all of us prefer good teachers.

What I have chosen to do is adapt. I use, as much as possible, simple language with graphics and other devices that aid in the learning process so that matters of great profundity can be grasped by people not yet schooled. They know precisely the nature of their own dilemma but they don’t know the nature of the solutions. Transcendent truths provide the solutions they seek. It is my job to speak simply of these truths. All I do is haul water to thirsty horses. The horses decide if they want to drink.

Renunciation

Letting go may be seen as either a negative or a positive. On the one hand, it could be a sign of weakness; of just giving up when tenacity or perseverance is required. Failure to achieve is often seen in this way. On the other hand, letting go may be exactly what is needed. It is impossible to grasp one thing when we are full of another. The difference between these can be understood against the background of time—a function of memory.

Our experience of time results from memory. It is established that people with damaged left-brain capacities have no memory and lose a sense of time. The reason for this loss is that memory occurs in our left hemisphere and without an ability to compare the present moment to the past, time goes away. If there is no past, projection into the future likewise goes away. It is impossible to learn from experience when there is no time.

In Zen, we are taught to live in the moment by detaching from the baggage of the past and to let go of the illusion of the future. When our memories are healthy (not damaged) this is a valuable way of living. When we are full of either the illusion of the future or the baggage of a dead past it is very difficult to be present. This concentration on the present is a primary focal point of zazen. But the principle has a much broader application beyond sitting.

To a significant degree, we have learned to undermine our own capacities and potential with limiting stories and ideas we tell our self. “I’m not good enough”; “She is better than me”; “I am flawed and thus unworthy”...All these and more are examples of self-imposed limitations which undermine functioning. Where did these stories come from? In a substantial way, they come from our memories. 

We learn through experience which we then recall when similar occasions arise and then we compare our memories to unfolding conditions and take the next step and project. What this process does not consider is changing circumstances. The conditions which may have existed no longer exist.

Pema Chödrön said that “...renunciation is the same thing as opening to the teachings of the present moment.” Every moment is unique. Every moment is a manifestation of circumstances that have never existed before. By letting go, we are more able to meet present teachings with openness and clarity—Impossible when we remain lodged in the past and future.