Engaged Buddhism

I spent the weekend in a retreat with Cheri Maples.  Most spiritual teachers speak simply and authentically and Cheri certainly is no exception, but she also offers a clarity and precision in her teaching that I found very valuable.

One of her talks clarified something for me.  The question of how to resolve the paradox of “socially engaged Buddhism” – how to reconcile acceptance of what is with action as a means to bring change.

One of the central tenets of Buddhism is that suffering is caused by wanting things to be different than they are, or by a conflict between an individual’s view of reality and reality as it is.

Cheri told the story of an Indian sage (Krishnamurti).  Eventually this sage agreed to reveal his deepest secret; telling his students “I don’t mind what happens.”

Similar is the story of a man who managed to live to a ripe old age while maintaining his health and enthusiasm.  When asked the secret of his longevity, he answered: “when it rains, I let it rain”.

The theme here is an acceptance that what happens in life is beyond our control.  We’re going to have a lot more luck adapting ourselves to the world than trying to adapt the world to our desires.  We don’t control reality, so we’d best accept it.

However, what we do control, what we can own, are our choices and our actions (Karma).  From a Buddhist (or Existentialist) perspective, our choices and actions are all we really are, and all that defines us.

So even if we can never guarantee the outcomes of our actions, we can choose them according to principles, including social engagement.  The idea of choosing the best actions we can, but then divorcing ourselves from the consequences, accepting that the outcome is beyond our control, is a very powerful idea and, to my understanding (as taught by Devarshi), a major theme of the Bhagavad-Gita.

I’ve previously mentioned one of my favourite books, “Fugitive Pieces” by Anne Michaels.  One quote from it explains this beautifully:

It’s a mistake to think it’s the small things we control and not the large, it’s the other way around! We can’t stop the small accident, the tiny detail that conspires into fate: the extra moment you run back for something forgotten, a moment that saves you from an accident – or causes one. But we can assert the largest order, the large human values daily, the only order large enough to see.

I always interpreted this as stating that we can’t control the path of day-to-day life: whether we get a given job or meet a given person, but we can choose what principles we will live our lives by.

Now I see a new, very similar interpretation: we can’t control the outcomes of our choices and are at the mercy of countless other choices made by countless others; however, we can choose the actions we take, the choices we make, and the principles that we use to guide those choices.

Although I might introduce myself by referencing, for example, my career, this is a small thing.  Ultimately, it’s the “large things” that make us who we are.

Dharma Sharing

Occasionally, as you speak, a tear pops from the corner of your eye,
beginning its tentative journey down your cheek.

You ignore the single drop, waiting for an accumulation of at least two or three
before wiping your face dry with a tissue that you held ready.

Efficiency.

Speaking, you offer disclaimers:

“This probably doesn’t make sense, but…”

“I’m such a cry-baby…”

Antiquated formalities.

Anachronistic now, as I feel only:

compassion for your suffering
and admiration for your courage.

Flood

Your well: cracked sand

beneath an uncaring sun?

Today: beneath a starry sky

a traveler stops to rest

and offers you a cup of tea

The last dregs from his canteen

Spilled on cracked sand

the tea is gone.

The traveler, on his way.

Tomorrow: if another traveler stops nearby

offer a cup of fresh water

from your empty well

Not too late: I see that I must give what I most need.

The last line of this poem is not mine.  It is also the last line of the wonderful book, Fugitive Pieces by Anne Michaels.

The Power of the Absence of Desire

I was thinking about this while watching Avatar, but please bear with me anyway.

I was struck by the source of the Na’vi’s strength: their lack of desire.  Earlier in the movie it’s made clear that humans were frustrated in their attempt to buy off the Na’vi by offering wealth in various forms; the Na’vi simply weren’t interested.

Satisfaction is a powerful thing.  To have desires makes one weak against those that can fulfill those desires.  This is the essence of the middle-class economic slavery that’s so prevent today.  A family might have enough wealth to satisfy their needs, to live a comfortable lifestyle.  But desire for a nicer car or bigger television leads to ever growing credit card debt, to overtime and ambition, searching for a raise at work, and to a lifestyle of stress and depression.  This is slavery to material desire and, more insidiously, perhaps slavery to manufactured desire, but that’s for another post.

John Ralston Saul writes, in his book Voltaire’s Bastards:

Of the great world myths, only Buddhism is centered on the reduction of desire in the individual.

Depending on how you choose to define “the great world myths”, this statement is either an overgeneralization or an outright falsehood, but it does accurately point to the way our societies value and encourage desire and ambition for more, endless expansion and change.

The desire for growth, expansion, and constant improvement has become axiomatic in our culture, but that doesn’t mean that it shouldn’t be questioned.  In Wade Davis’s book, The Wayfinders, he explores how many of the world’s indigenous cultures have different value systems – often valuing satisfaction with things as they are over desire for more.  It’s a shame that we haven’t been better able to learn from those who came before us.

And another perspective:

“Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose”

- Janis Joplin

Another Poem

Existence Precedes Essence

you may take my breath away

but I continue to breathe

every moment

of every day

love may walk out on me

any number of times

but, recklessly, or helplessly

I continue to love

each moment of

each day

properly understood, love is a verb, not a noun

of course the original version of this poem is better...

Adaptability and Historical Ecology

I read an interesting article in The Walrus.  The article focused on environmental degradation and especially on loss of biodiversity, but had some ideas at its core that I believe have wider applicability.

As in the article, the field or historical ecology examines the biological richness of the past and provides two key findings:

first, the harder we look, the more biologically rich the past seems in comparison to today; and second, human impacts on the natural world were more severe and widespread earlier in our history as a species than anyone had guessed.

The article makes the point that the earth may now have reached the point of carrying only 10% of the ecological health and diversity of life that it once did.

This is important, but going further, the article explores why this terrible loss is difficult to see and can be so easily tolerated.  Citing a 1995 child development and psychology study, the article explains how people may establish during childhood the norm against which they compare pollution and environmental degradation for the rest of their lives.  Thus whatever state the earth is in when you are a child determines what you consider normal and acceptable.  Any damage from before a person’s birth is, in a sense, invisible to that person.

So this makes us a little like the frog that’s slowly boiled to death, unaware as the heat slowly increases.  For us, the temperature gets a little warmer each generation, but we never realize quite how hot things are getting.  We adapt.

Adaptability is powerful and, by at least some definitions, a necessary condition for life.

Adaptability allows humanity to live in diverse climates, survive on diverse foods, and handle rapidly changing culture and technology.  But maybe adaptability can go to far.

Maybe there’s a point where, instead of adapting to change, we should combat it.

I think this relates quite directly to my last post.  I argue that adaptability allows us to tolerate things that should not be tolerated.  Adaptability is a valuable tool, but one that can be easily misused.

As well, perhaps those with power, with money, are better insulated from the world?  Are more adaptable?  These are decision makers.

Somehow, we need to be able to see the bigger picture.  We must look both back, into history, and inwards, into our own sense of what we're willing to accept as normal.

Cowardice?

In a previous post, “Liberal Arts and Spiritual Education”, I refer to a value that I feel is important: the courage not to accept what our values tell us is unacceptable.  I think that this is very important, but also very challenging to practice.

I’ll give two examples.

I’m not rich by any means.  But I believe that I could give away half of my income to those in need and still live a lifestyle that, by global standards, is quite comfortable.  Further, I don’t honestly believe that losing half my income would make me any less happy.

So here I am, in a situation where I could help some number of people in need without any real negative consequences at all.  But I don’t.

How do I explain this choice?  Maybe I don’t have confidence in my ability to be happy with less.  Or maybe I’m restrained by the norms and values of my society.  In either case, it looks like a lack of courage.

Second example.

I almost always use my refillable water bottle.  But sometimes I buy a bottle of water. It might be a Dasani.  By doing so, I am supporting Coca Cola, an organization that uses violence to protect its ability to exploit its workers.

I mostly walk, bike, or take public transit.  Sometimes, however, I rent or borrow a car.  In these cases (and even the case of public transit), I am supporting organizations that are selling the health of our ecosystem for their own profit.

It’s not simple.  I suspect that a majority of the products we consume in our society are connected to organizations guilty of behaviour I would consider unacceptable.  With the prevalence of greenwashing, it can take a lot of work to even determine which goods are “clean”.

So really, I think the only realistic solutions are radical: living outside of society, perhaps joining an eco-village.  Nothing I’m likely to do anytime soon.

So, every day, I’m supporting, through my purchases, perpetrators of violence, greed, environmental destruction, etc.  I’m acting against my own values and beliefs, in this case, basically out of convenience.  Does this make me a coward?

To be clear, this is a philosophical musing.  I feel good about the way I live my life.  But I’m not sure that I should.  Is the radical choice too much to ask of myself?  Is it enough to make the occasional charitable donation and try to shop ethically, when I can?

Where does one find compromise between dignity and fear?

For A Friend

I wrote this poem for a friend in early May.  It was intentionally written in the style of Rumi (for purposes of stealth!), but is original.

For A Friend

Forget all you know
about this word "love"

Drink your fill from the fountain
each day
but do not become its care-taker

Swim in the ocean, refresh yourself
but have faith
in the moon
to bring the tides out and in

Worship is a state, not an act
Water can cleanse any wound
Love is the earth beneath our feet
Even when the path is hidden from sight

Liberal Arts and Spiritual Education

John Allemang wrote in the Globe and Mail, on Saturday, September 4th, an article entitled “Can the liberal arts cure jihadists?”

The article spoke to my view on politics. I am not a political activist, nor particularly politically engaged. I feel that, considering our social, environmental, economical, and other challenges today, political intervention is treating the symptoms, not the cause. Although I don’t argue that there isn't an important place for political engagement, I’m much more interested in education.

I believe that, ultimately, the only solution to our challenges today is teaching values: compassion, empathy, tolerance, respect for those different from us, and the courage not to accept what our values tell us is unacceptable.  When values like these become prevalent, political change will follow.

We are equipped with the necessary neurological faculties (read about mirror neurons if you like) to care about one another, but these abilities need, like any other, to be exercised and trained.

I’ve liked to argue that conventional religion has failed in its role as the provider of spiritual education.  That's is a big statement, but can anyone claim that it’s really that hard to argue?  I think we need a replacement for religious institution.

John Allemang makes a similar argument.  He points out that many of those attempting or committing violent acts, “terrorists”, have had largely technical educations.  He argues that it is possible that as social values shift away from the liberal arts, we are losing that necessary training in empathy.  As in the article:

A good liberal-arts education takes these emotionally underdeveloped twentysomethings and compels them to think as if they were a character in Pride and Prejudice or Huckleberry Finn or Crime and Punishment, to mix with those unlike themselves in Dante's Inferno, Thucydides's History of the Peloponnesian War and Montaigne's Essays, to challenge their theories with unsettling particulars instead of sheltering in an authoritative generalization. It doesn't necessarily come with virtuous ethical content, but it at least promotes a variety of approaches that steer impressionable minds away from the seductive haven of the single universal truth.

So perhaps a liberal arts education is, in some part, the spiritual education we need?  Unfortunately, it may be a dying art.  In his article entitled "Office of the President" in the September, 2010 issue of The Walrus, Gordon Laird considers how modern universities are supporting fields with obvious and immediate economic benefits, to the neglect of the liberal arts and explains:

Gurston Dacks, professor emeritus of political science, sees the divide between arts and sciences as ultimately self-defeating, as many of our biggest challenges, from obesity to energy consumption, pertain not to science, per se, but to human behaviour, culture, and society. “You can get cleaner tar sands, but that’s not really going to address our energy demand problem,” he says. “All of these solutions lie on the humanities and the arts side of the campus.”

In conclusion, whether we speak of spiritual values or liberal arts, it seems clear that education is, at least, an essential part of the solution to many of the problems that our societies face today.  Unfortunately, our current values and economic perspectives make the importance of this education easy to miss.

A Promise

I've felt that I'd like to write more often, but my various attempts at journaling have been short-lived. This blog is an experiment to see if the possibility of an audience will help motivate me to write more frequently.

Further, the topics I plan to write on are topics that I enjoy discussing with some of my friends. I'd love to expand that discussion, so please comment if you have anything to say.

I'm making a promise to myself to write something here at least once a week for the next ten weeks. If you like, you can also consider that a promise to yourself, and feel free to call me on it if I'm not keeping up.