Despots and fiddles

Note: I first wrote this post in September of 2011—Nine years ago. While the specifics have changed, the essence has not.

“Qu’ils mangent de la brioche.”—Let them eat cake. While scholars no longer attribute this saying to Marie Antoinette, it has nevertheless remained as the prime example of disdain by the aristocracy for people in need. It exists in classic anthologies epitomizing indifference exhibited by those with means for those who suffer. In the same vane is the myth of Nero fiddling while Rome burned, which has come to mean to occupy oneself with unimportant matters and neglect priorities during a crisis.

Both of these are finding relevance in our world today. While people try to regain their footing following natural disasters or struggle to survive following extended unemployment, loss of homes, and virtually any means of support, politicians wax on endlessly concerning themselves more with how many points they can gain by confronting “the opposition” than how many mouths they can feed.

In exactly two months time the appointed Washington “super committee” must propose ways to reduce an out of control Federal deficit. Whatever means they propose must be voted on by Dec. 23. As the situation currently stands these people are no closer to reaching accord than when they were convened a month ago. During that month one of the most devastating hurricanes on record destroyed the lives of hundreds of thousands and goes on record as one of the 10 costliest catastrophes in the nation’s history.

FEMA is our first-responder agency for bringing aid to such people as those who were wiped out by Irene or by the devastating EF5 multiple-vortex tornado that struck Joplin, Missouri. Every caring American expects our government to provide whatever support is necessary to assist those in need. Instead, FEMA is being held hostage by the radical fringe, lead by House Majority Leader Eric Cantor who demands that offsetting budget cuts in other programs must be found before approving new funding for FEMA. Such additional funding in the wake of costly disasters has been the usual procedure in Congress in the past since natural disasters by their very nature cannot be predicted.

On one level Mr. Cantor’s reasoning appears responsible. To go further in debt at the same time that the super committee is trying to come to terms with the future of our nation seems unreasonable. The costs must be born somehow and the source of such funding is perfectly obvious. When infamous bank robber Willie Sutton was asked why he robbed banks, his answer was immediate and clear: It’s where the money is. So where’s our money? It isn’t in the hands of the disappearing middle class. It isn’t in the hands of the expanding poor and desperate. The money is where it always has been: In the banks. Yet it is precisely the financial institutions of our nation that are now doing everything possible to manipulate the law to ensure that we once again pay for their own mismanagement. 

They were not shy in asking us to bail them out when they teetered on the edge of disaster. We did so and they repaid our generosity by handing out astronomical bonuses to their “senior executives” and then refused to fuel our economic recovery. In the meantime, so we’re told, corporations are flush with fat profits. Why won’t they reinvest? Because there isn’t sufficient demand. And why isn’t there sufficient demand? Because people have no jobs. And why do people have no jobs? Because the people who have money won’t invest it. Does anyone but me see the Catch 22 here?

If Mr. Cantor wants to find the offsets to continue FEMA funding, then he should take a lesson from Willie, go get the money from where it exists and stop his fiddling. Rome is about to burn and we need a lot more than “cake.”

At the brink.

The recent debacle in Washington brings into sharp focus a fundamental flaw in our way of thinking and thus how we wrestle with problem-solving. We call it “the blame game.” This quagmire precisely illustrates a classic cultural flaw: Republicans blame Democrats. Main Street blames Wall Street. Your neighbor blames you, and you blame your neighbor. Apparently, nobody sees the big picture, which is this:

Wall Street doesn’t exist as an independent entity, separate and apart from you and me (Main Street)—investors who are greedy for a free lunch and believe that there is an independent up, separate, and apart from an inevitable down. Likewise, neither Republicans nor Democrats exist as independent entities. And neighbors only exist because of you and me.

This notion of an absolute right or wrong—one independent dimension in opposition to another—is simply wrong-headed. Unfortunately, this notion is going to bring our culture to its knees unless we wake up soon. This spirit of “me against the world” has never worked and never will work simply because it is not true. No world is separate and apart from “me and you.” We are the world which we are creating together, either in opposition with one another or in the messy struggle to work together for the common good. It may appear as a solid political strategy to set yourself apart from the other guy (or gal), but it creates and perpetuates a myth destroying us all.

For more than 2 millennia, Buddhists worldwide have seen the flaw of this “me against the world” approach as contrary to interdependent origination, which states the truth of our collective unity. There is no such thing as an independent anything—Light and dark arise and disappear together, up and down arise and disappear together, democrats and republicans arise and disappear together, form and emptiness; you and me...the list is endless, and it is a simple truth if only we would put it in motion. Instead, we remain trapped in opposition with anyone and everyone. We remain convinced of absolute righteousness (otherwise called self-righteousness), which only folks like us are privy to, and we likewise remain persuaded that others not-like-us are obviously wrong. Two problems here:

1. The idea of a “self” is just that...An idea. It is not a substantial, real thing. And if it is just an imagined figment, then there is, what? A figment of imaginary righteousness? The answer to that rhetorical question is yes—imaginary.

2. Even if there were a real self (which could be called our Root Consciousness, Buddha Nature or any name you choose—the name is irrelevant), such a reality could not be independent and separate because it is ubiquitous, never-born, never-dies, and not a reality which can be claimed as exclusive by anyone. It is a common, shared-by-everyone reality. We are in this pickle together and can’t escape.

So, where does this leave us? Well, it’s not too difficult to conclude. Either we continue on as we have since the beginning of time chasing the phantom of “me against the world” (and live with the consequences of that pursuit—racial and cultural suicide), or we chart a different course of unity. It would seem that we are at a tipping point, balanced on a precipice between choices. Collectively we will decide, but one thing is clear: Whatever choice we make will result in both benefits and consequences because these also arise together as an interdependent union. To listen to a good talk on the web of causes and effects undergirding our current crisis, click here.

Coming and going.

To a person of Zen, words are a mixed blessing. They can lead you astray or open your mind to the music of the muses. One of the greatest mystical poets of all time is Rabindranath Tagore.  Sadly, while he lived, he was little known outside of the Calcutta area and unknown outside of India. 

He and Lao Tzu awaken in me purity of heart unmatched by others. One of Tagor’s resonate themes is opening doors. Here is one facet from his poetic jewel, “Journey Home.”

The traveler has to knock at every alien door to come to his own, and one has to wander through all the outer worlds to reach the innermost shrine at the end.

All of us are travelers searching far and wide for what is closer than our own breath, seeking what has never left us. In our mind’s eye, we imagine ourselves’ indwelling presence, which we separate from what that presence witnesses. To Lin-Chi (the father of Rinzai Zen) such people are spiritual dilettantes. He said, 

“Zen students today are totally unaware of truth. They are like foraging goats that pick up whatever they bump into. They do not distinguish between the servant and the master, or between guest and host. People like this enter Zen with distorted minds and are unable to enter effectively into dynamic situations. They may be called true initiates, but actually they are really mundane people. Those who really leave attachments must master real, true perception to distinguish the enlightened from the obsessed, the genuine from the artificial, the unregenerate from the sage. If you can make these discernments, you can be said to have really left dependency. Professionally Buddhist clergy who cannot tell obsession from enlightenment have just left one social group and entered another social group. They cannot really be said to be independent. Now there is an obsession with Buddhism that is mixed in with the real thing. Those with clear eyes cut through both obsession and Buddhism. If you love the sacred and despise the ordinary, you are still bobbing in the ocean of delusion.”

If we listen with open minds, we can hear the connection between Tagore and Lin Chi. There is one who travels and one who is found. The traveler knocks on a billion alien doors and, in the end, returns to find the one who has never moved.  Guests come and go yet the host never leaves. The Buddha lived in India 2,500 years ago. Lao Tzu lived in China at roughly the same time. Lin Chi died in 866 CE, and in 1913 Tagore received the Nobel Prize for literature. 

The lives of these men span an eternity, yet their voices resonate with a familiar echo. After all this time, we are still chasing and becoming attached to the moving rabbit, unable to notice who is doing the chasing. Buddhism has begun to capture the attention of the Western mind, but sadly it still dwells on the bobbing at the expense of the one noticing the bobbing, and as Lin-Chi says, 

“Now, there is an obsession with Buddhism that is mixed in with the real thing. Those with clear eyes cut through both obsession and Buddhism. If you love the sacred and despise the ordinary, you are still bobbing in the ocean of delusion.” 

In our world today, we enshrine the sacred and spit on the ordinary. No wonder in our time we are reaping the poisonous fruit of divisiveness. 

Solomon and a divided nation

Once upon a time in a kingdom far away, there lived a king of great wisdom. Each day the king would hold court and hear the pleas of his people. One day, two opponents came before him for his adjudication over a matter of extreme importance concerning the state’s child. One of the opponents pleaded with the king to slash to the child’s support to the bone, arguing that the state will flounder and die unless the child is starved. His opponent argued that unless the king waged war on his neighbors and robbed their coffers, there wouldn’t be enough money to continue supporting the child, and it would likewise die. The king saw that to preserve the child of state, he would need to adopt a middle way between these two extremes, reducing the child’s support and avoiding war, which greatly angered both opponents but saved the child.

Mine—No Take

It’s an education to watch young children learning the social skill of sharing (or not). It’s an unnatural skill. The ordinary way is to not share but rather to possess. One of the first words a child learns is “mine,” and another is “no.” 

The other day while waiting in the doctor’s office, I watched an encounter between two small children—one a girl, the other a boy—both younger than 2 years of age, competing to possess toys available in the waiting room.

The boy was there first, having complete reign over the cache of toys. Then the girl arrived, and the challenge began. He noticed the threat to his exclusive possessions and immediately sent out body language which said in effect, “mine, stay away.” She wasn’t hearing this message but instead began to carve out her own share. He responded by taking back what he had lost. She responded, in turn, “no,” “mine”—back and forth it went, with occasional interventions by the parents demanding sharing, which were largely ignored.

As I watched this exchange, I saw their futures as grown-ups still engaged in the same struggle, now being played out in the market place and relationships. “Mine” means “not yours.” It starts early and continues throughout life until we come to see that taken to an extreme, this simply doesn’t work. Then we are motivated to share but always begrudgingly. We don’t like to share, regardless of the social skill compromises we learn. There is a part of each of us that harkens back to our earliest memories of possessiveness and fear of loss.

Underneath the motivation for this behavior lies another human dimension, which also begins to function very early—an imagined, independent self that fuels attachment with actions of clinging and resistance—“Mine,” “No take.” Left unimpeded, this behavior creates unending suffering, and until we go to the heart and address the underlying imagined self, no learned social skill will survive very long. During times of stress, we revert back to early behavior and throw aside learned compromises—fearing a threat to our sense of self and demanding an increase to insulation from jeopardy (monetary and emotional). 

The perceived risk rises, and we hunker down. What is the answer to something so embedded? Risk is endemic to living, and this perception is always at odds with the idea of “mine.”  The tides rise, and they fall. Nothing lasts as “mine” and to depend upon permanence is a prescription for suffering. 

Sooner or later, the little girl or boy will come along and want their share. We’ll be confronted with an unending struggle with no solution except one: Eradicating the mythical and imagined self, which fuels this dynamic. When this eradication occurs, we become aware that beneath independence is interdependence; beneath imagined, there is the real, and beneath the limited fuel, we find an unending supply. Down deep, beneath the everyday struggle, we find bedrock—The One we have always been, has no center called “mine” or “no take.” At this level, there is neither you nor me. Just a unified “us.” 

Every religion of significance cautions about being self-centered, but Buddhism provides a concrete way to vanquish this center. Telling someone “what” to do without saying “how” accomplishes nothing but frustration. This eradication and discovery doesn’t happen by itself. It is the fruit of dedicated and focused practice, which may seem excessive and unnecessary. But the alternative is a life of suffering that comes with “mine” and “no take.” We all have the same opportunity to either live with the myth of an imagined and independent self or free of this pernicious demon and experience liberation.

Incredible

The juxtaposition of where we stand at this point in the human journey is incredible. The extremes are astonishing! 

On the one hand, we are living during a time when it is possible to be connected, almost instantly to anyone, anywhere in the world who has the necessary technology. The Internet, exploration of the cosmos, advances in medical, communications, and scientific technologies—all and more have transformed our physical world in ways far beyond what we could have imagined just a few years ago. If these advances were a measure of human achievement, we would get a grade of A+, but sadly we are failing.

Our ability to find common ground and move forward as a united human race has never been in greater jeopardy. Global communities are coming unglued at once. The Middle East is a burning house (and has been for centuries). So is the Amazon rain forest. So is the entire East Coast of the USA. At this point (which is increasing rapidly), 35+million people are infected with COVID-19, more than 1 million have died and there is no significant global cooperation to deal with this out-of-control disease.  In our nation (and many others around the world) governments have ceased to function and riots are understandably occurring with increasing intensity. And to top it all, our entire physical world is reflecting these extremes: Hotter hots; Colder colds, massive floods, great geographic segments turned into desserts, and melting ice caps.

On the one hand, it has never been better and on the other hand, it has never been worse. Clearly, the problems have nothing to do with what we can do but instead result from what we refuse to do. We fight like snarling animals, fighting over a dead carcass about ideologies, with opposing factions prepared to kill one another and take pride in dying to achieve a one-sided agenda.

We are compromising our collective welfare, due to no loss of intelligent capacity but rather because of mental, emotional, and spiritual poverty. What ought to be perfectly clear—what the nature of the problems are, and thus the solutions, continues to be ignored as we struggle to develop more and more technology while refusing to see what even a small child could see. Take a few moments and watch this, and then reflect on what we are losing. If you don’t get a large lump in your throat when you watch, you’re probably already dead.

The we of you and me.

Previously, I published a book, The Non-Identity Crisis—The crisis that endangers our world. The topic of the book concerns a common mistake that everyone makes: We confuse functions with identity, and since we attach ourselves with these, we create unending hardship for others and ourselves.

Let me illustrate what I’m talking about with a small example. In a day, we perform many different functions. We get out of bed, go to the bathroom, prepare and eat meals, drive to various places, talk with people, assume specific roles, and do other things. While we are walking from our beds, we are performing a function called walking. During that time, we could rightly say that we are a walker. One who walks is a walker. One who prepares food is a preparer, driving/driver, talking/talker, so on and so forth. As our functions change, our sense of being changes accordingly.

This matter is compounded with other forms of more enduring activities that lead to misidentification. Some functions are vacillating and short-lived, such as eating or walking. Sometimes we eat, sometimes we walk, but these functions come and go frequently. However, other aspects are more enduring, such as being a parent, a spouse, or a volunteer. But even these can and do change. And there are other matters that we take on that define us, such as national, economic, political, religious, or ideological identities. All of the preceding can be, and are, combined. And all are changing and morphing. None of it stands still, but we do. That much is clearly evident and doesn’t require further explanation. So what’s the issue?

The issue is one of attaching our sense of being and worth to moving targets. If we ever took the time to truly understand ourselves (at the fundamental level), everything would be okay. We don’t, however, take the time to understand ourselves at this bedrock level. Instead, we understand ourselves based on these changing dimensions of mis-identity, and we suffer and create trouble because of this error. 

For example, we may consider ourselves (by way of illustration) as a prosperous American Republican, Christian, spouse, and parent. That is a complex combining, and each part of that combination changes. When we identify with each component (or the complex combination), we feel like our beingness is defined and vulnerable to attack. And then, we take the next step and defend these forms of identity against others who represent themselves differently.

Prosperity is then opposed to the disadvantaged; American is opposed to non-American; Democrat against Republican; Christian against non-Christian, etc. It is quite right that we flock together with birds of a feather to attack and get rid of birds with different feathers. If you wanted to articulate and characterize the core problem we are facing at this point in time, worldwide, it would emanate from this tendency to mis-identify and create forms of hostility against others not like us. This tendency makes it nearly impossible to break the logjam of dysfunction in Washington and worldwide, and that tendency is jeopardizing our mutual welfare.

What’s the solution? Actually, it isn’t that difficult to figure out, but it is challenging to solve. The answer is to take the time to find out who we are, at that fundamental level, because when we do that, we discover that we are one joint human family. Each of us adopts different ways of living. Each of us thinks other thoughts. Each of us performs a nearly infinite breadth of different functions, but none of that is who we are. Who we are is a matter of being, not doing.

So let’s spend some time examining this matter of beingness. Who and what are we? One part of us is clearly changing flesh, bones, related physical stuff, and if you haven’t noticed, all of that is in a continuous state of replication.

The rate of DNA replication for humans is about 50 nucleotides per second per replication fork (a Y-shaped part of a chromosome that is the site for DNA strand separation and then duplication). The physical aspect of us comprises trillions of chromosomes, and each and every one of them is continually being lost and replaced. Sometimes I look in the mirror and wonder who that wrinkly old guy is and where the young, handsome fellow went. The answer is that we are all sloughing off trillions of cells each and every moment of our lives. There is nothing of our physical being that is permanent, and one day that part of us will go the way of all flesh. But that’s okay because that is not who we are.

The other part of this identity matter is enduring, permanent, and invisible. It is never born and can’t die, but since it is hidden, we can’t detect it through ordinary sensory means. For sure, what we are not is an idea or image. Thoughts flit about like fireflies, but there must be one who is watching these ideas. Thinking doesn’t happen independently from a thinker, but as previously pointed out, thought is just a function: something we do, not who we are. This thing we call ego is an idea, otherwise known as a self-image. It’s a fabricated construction that has been bouncing around forever and is recorded in the literature as far back as 3,500 years ago in India and in ancient Greece. 

Freud co-opted the term as a part of his mapping of the psyche. The Greeks understood it in various ways ranging from the soul to a sense of self. The Buddha understood it as an unreal obstruction that was the source of suffering that blocked access to our true self, and if we’re honest, we can see that egotism is the source of much corruption and greed. The ego is a divisive manifestation that emerges from identifying with functions that leads to alienation and hostility against other not-like-us birds.

So we are neither purely physical nor ideas. We are something much more fundamental that doesn’t change. And what we discover when we thoroughly consider the matter is that this non-identifiable being, which is each of us, is precisely the same. That is our point of commonality, and that is the only thing we have in common. All of us are as unique and different as snowflakes, and all of us are fundamentally just snow.

Kill the sucker!

From time to time, I’ve written about the related matters of dogma, close-mindedness, delusion, and bias. My observations ordinarily struck a general tone, but in light of the current presidential debates, I want to draw attention to how this psychology works specifically. I’ll use the hackneyed cliché of being dug in to illustrate the point. 

That expression (dug in) creates a visual image that is instructive. Imagine a person who is persuaded that something of value lies buried beneath the surface. They are so convinced they begin digging a hole to find it. As they explore, others come along who want the same treasure and become cheerleaders of their digging. The more they dig, the more energy they expend, and the deeper the hole becomes. While they are exploring, a non-cheerleader comes along who has discovered the treasure being sought in another location and goes to share their discovery with the digger and their supporters. By this time, the hole is quite deep, and the digger has so invested themself in the ideology that their spot alone contains the treasure that they are not open to the discovery, and the same is true of the cheerleaders. What do they do in response? Kill the messenger.

Why are they not able or willing to stop digging and accept the truth? Because they have a vested interest in being right. The truth is sacrificed on the altar of egotism driven by self-righteousness, and to them, this is far more valuable than the sought-for treasure. Such people are blinded by that desire and see only what reinforces their dug-in positions. And this same psychology infects the cheerleaders because they, too, have a surrogate vested interest.

Groupthink is the handle given to this form of delusion. It is the mode of thinking that happens when the desire for harmony in a decision-making group overrides a realistic appraisal of alternatives. Group members try to minimize conflict and reach a consensus decision without critical evaluation of alternative ideas or viewpoints. 

Irving Janis, a research psychologist from Yale University, did the original research of this phenomenon. Still, long before Janis, the constructive elements were observed by The Buddha and recorded in the Sutta Nipāta. He was asked a question, 

“What is that smothers the world? What makes the world so hard to see? What would you say pollutes the world and threatens it the most”? And he answered, “It is ignorance which smothers,” The Buddha replied, “and it heedlessness and greed which make the world invisible. The hunger of desire pollutes the world, and the great source of fear is the pain of suffering.” And what, you may ask, is being feared that brings about the pain of suffering? It is “the ego,” the artificial idea we humans have of ourselves that suffers greatly when being proven wrong.

Apparently, groupthink has a very long history but remains alive and well right into current-day politics. It is quite surprising to see (why should we be surprised?) entire audiences (cheerleaders) give standing ovations to digger Trump, who is proving himself as a practiced charlatan, able with jujitsu skill, to kill the messenger rather than address a message that threatens to reveal his empty hole.

Some of the people some of the time…

The Republican Party has changed much since “Honest Abe.”

Recently there has been a resurgence of awareness about our 16th President of the United States—probably since lying has become a dystopian mark of normality within the party. Lincoln is famous for many things, among them this quote: “You can fool some of the people all of the time, and all of the people some of the time, but you cannot fool all of the people all of the time.” That quote seems particularly poignant at this juncture in time.

But maybe we could tweak it to make a perfect fit. Then it would read, “Some people can fool themselves all of the time, and all people can fool themselves some of the time, but no person can fool themselves all of the time.”

Lincoln’s way puts the blame on politicians and the second tweak puts the blame where it belongs: on ourselves. In the end none of us can escape the consequences of our choices. We truly create our own Heaven or Hell. That’s the first truth and the second is this: what goes around, comes around. Sooner or later all of us get a ride in the hot seat and when we sit in that chair it’s too late to blame someone else.

Nirvāna

What does life look like when you awaken? It looks exactly the same, but in another way, everything has changed, only it hasn’t. I suppose that sounds abstruse, but actually, it isn’t. Our natural mind is pure and unconditional. It is always with us yet beyond detection. It is the source of everything but has no nature at all. It is like a mirror that reflects whatever passes before it but in itself contains nothing.

Today during our meditation group, a helicopter flew overhead. As it approached, the sound gradually came in contact with our ears; the sound grew stronger and then faded as it moved on. Without thinking about where the helicopter came from and where it went, the sound was just sound and left no tracks. The conditions changed, but our mind didn’t—it remained silent, aware, pure as a mirror, and reflecting the sound.

Upon awakening, we become aware of awareness itself: The mirror. Until that point, we are consumed with making something out of the sounds and other forms of perception and thus never wake up to our unconditional mind. Nirvāna is the state of being free from suffering and is understood as “blowing out”—referring in the Buddhist context, to the blowing away the smoke of greed, hatred, and delusion. It is a state of soteriological release.

“Soteriological release” means (in essence) salvation, but not in the ordinary way of understanding. In The Diamond Sutra (verse 25), The Buddha said:

“There are in fact no sentient beings for the Tathagata to liberate. If there were sentient beings liberated by the Tathagata, it would mean that the Tathagata holds the notions of a self, a person, a sentient being, or a life span. Subhuti, when the Tathagata says ‘I’, there is actually no ‘I’. Yet ordinary beings think there is a real ‘I’. Subhuti, the Tathagata says that ordinary beings are in fact not ordinary beings. Therefore they are called ordinary beings.”

When first read, I didn’t understand, but upon further reflection, I did see the wisdom. The Buddha (e.g., Tathagata) was telling us that we ordinary humans hold onto the idea there is such a thing as a “self.”—separate, distinct and unique from all others, and to retain this notion is what leads us away from Nirvāna and into the land of never-ending suffering. This idea of personality is what we must lose to be free—be saved (liberated), not being saved by God for inherent sin.

Our conditional mind and unconditional mind are often portrayed as the difference between smoke and fire. We can see the smoke of thoughts, which emanate from the fire of mind. When thoughts are blown out, the smoke goes away and we lose that mind that deceives us, thus producing the idea of a conditional, distinct personality and find our true mind where we are One with all. 

That no-mind state is what is known as Nirvāna: our natural mind, which has always been present. The mirror never comes or goes. Without it perception would be impossible. The mind moves and it doesn’t and everything is just a reflection of the way things are.