To breathe within the scheme of things was the focus of a blog I once wrote before deciding to move on to "metaphysics." To be able to breathe has again become my simple focus. There is probably much more to being but if one cannot exist within the greater context as oneself, that is, if one cannot breathe, one cannot be. Metaphysics is a matter of understanding oneself; breathing is a matter of being, of simply existing. Once one can breathe, then one may take on understanding. I may have learned to breathe and then moved on to understanding, but then it just may be something shifted somewhere, somehow to some kind of a new paradigm of being in which even a new kind of breathing comes into being, as it were. Perhaps it is simply a result of getting on in the body and mind; when balance and relationships within oneself change, the whole context of being shifts. I see how and why I decided to focus on the metaphysics, for I have already delved into what could be interpreted as a metaphysical discussion. However, I think the theme is no longer that of Giving Meaning to Ourselves, for such is taken for granted by me at this point. To be able to breathe is to give such meaning.
Wednesday, May 6, 2020
Tuesday, June 25, 2013
LIFE AS AN ACT OF FAITH
I have found that to live demands EVERYTHING and that this demand is RELENTLESS. I am a 24/7 caregiver to my beautiful wife who is disabled and who lives from day to day in tortuous pain from fibromyalgia. Before her, I cared for my daughter who has profound autism, though she is able to communicate, highly intelligently, through facilitated communication using any small keyboard. Life has been most difficult for the both of them. I see that it is far more difficult for so many people all over the world. I do not believe in a "merciful God" as promoted by religions. For this reason in itself, that is, as a manipulation of people who have hard lives who seek some kind of belonging and meaning, I condemn religion. People end up believing in a God who is supposed to care about them, causing them to become numb, hopeless, and guilty for not believing in such a religious creation as this particular image of God.
I am drawn into the forest where I find a degree of peace; even physically, I am "off the grid" (of electromagnetic bombardment). I suppose my own way of seeing the world would be more Daoist and somewhat Buddhist, if I must label myself in this way. I "worship" nothing, though I do observe and learn from nature. Perhaps my American Indian partial blood gives me such a perspective, I don't know. As flawed as people are, I am usually able to accept them, even forgiving them, understanding them in some way when necessary. However, I could not forgive the "merciful and loving God" put forward by much religion throughout the world, for this, to me, is a horrible lie put up by religions for their own survival, as if they are "God's spokespeople." How false, how disgusting is this? For this reason I believe that humanity is our only hope, that believing in other human beings--and in ourselves--is the bottom line, as it were, of our existence.
Life itself does not offer hope. It simply is as it is. Our only real choice, as I put it, is "to go with the flow and roll with the punches." Is this fair for me to accuse life of throwing punches? No. But life's events certainly often feel that way. Either way, we have to learn how to accept and be with life as it comes to us and at us. I have reached the point in my life, both as an older person and as one with greater than usual responsibilities that can weight heavily at times, that I have no idea what might happen in the next moment. I cannot force my will upon life; I can try my best to "play the odds" by planning for outcomes I prefer, but that's it. In truth, I realize that I have NO CHOICE but to see and accept my life as an ACT OF FAITH, simply because I do not want to accept it in resignation as an act of despair, an act of hopelessness. Sometimes such faith is DEFIANCE; like laughing in the face of death, in the face of pain and loss, in the face of growing older. Our society would have us learn to be quiet when we see things that are wrong. To express dissatisfaction, to tell people what you think (preferably in a way in which they can hear it and receive it) is an act of faith; of faith in their ability and willingness to listen and respond responsibly. Needless to say, they may very often react against you. More old people should have the faith and determination to express their anger at the injustice and sheer stupidity and absent values and consideration prevalent in our society and throughout the world. If others have no faith and consequently cower before authoritarians, particularly those who wrap themselves in God and/or flag and who misuse this power to manipulate, we older people--more experienced, wiser, less confined by convention--can have the faith in ourselves and in others to SPEAK UP and GIVE THEM A PIECE OF OUR MIND rather than to just roll over and play dead. We'll be dead soon enough.
To go one more step with life as an ACT OF FAITH, I don't actually know if my next breath might be my last, or the next step I take could be my last. None of us do, whether we are young or old. We BELIEVE we'll last forever. To actually take this reality in allows us to LIVE WITH AWARENESS in this moment, which is the only moment there really is. What will happen in our next moment? What is around our corner? In truth, as we get older we become more "set in our ways," but, strangely or not so strangely, we also become more able to observe, more able to be in each moment, more able to SEE WHAT IS HAPPENING and more able to respond well. We are better able to see and respond because we have learned not to judge by appearances AND we see more clearly because we can "take it with a grain of salt," as it were. We are both kinder and saltier; we won't put up with crap because we value ourselves and our lives. We EXPECT others to behave as we would behave, and we LET THEM KNOW.
When I started writing this, I had no idea what I would say. But I have said what I apparently wished to say. Thank you.
I am drawn into the forest where I find a degree of peace; even physically, I am "off the grid" (of electromagnetic bombardment). I suppose my own way of seeing the world would be more Daoist and somewhat Buddhist, if I must label myself in this way. I "worship" nothing, though I do observe and learn from nature. Perhaps my American Indian partial blood gives me such a perspective, I don't know. As flawed as people are, I am usually able to accept them, even forgiving them, understanding them in some way when necessary. However, I could not forgive the "merciful and loving God" put forward by much religion throughout the world, for this, to me, is a horrible lie put up by religions for their own survival, as if they are "God's spokespeople." How false, how disgusting is this? For this reason I believe that humanity is our only hope, that believing in other human beings--and in ourselves--is the bottom line, as it were, of our existence.
Life itself does not offer hope. It simply is as it is. Our only real choice, as I put it, is "to go with the flow and roll with the punches." Is this fair for me to accuse life of throwing punches? No. But life's events certainly often feel that way. Either way, we have to learn how to accept and be with life as it comes to us and at us. I have reached the point in my life, both as an older person and as one with greater than usual responsibilities that can weight heavily at times, that I have no idea what might happen in the next moment. I cannot force my will upon life; I can try my best to "play the odds" by planning for outcomes I prefer, but that's it. In truth, I realize that I have NO CHOICE but to see and accept my life as an ACT OF FAITH, simply because I do not want to accept it in resignation as an act of despair, an act of hopelessness. Sometimes such faith is DEFIANCE; like laughing in the face of death, in the face of pain and loss, in the face of growing older. Our society would have us learn to be quiet when we see things that are wrong. To express dissatisfaction, to tell people what you think (preferably in a way in which they can hear it and receive it) is an act of faith; of faith in their ability and willingness to listen and respond responsibly. Needless to say, they may very often react against you. More old people should have the faith and determination to express their anger at the injustice and sheer stupidity and absent values and consideration prevalent in our society and throughout the world. If others have no faith and consequently cower before authoritarians, particularly those who wrap themselves in God and/or flag and who misuse this power to manipulate, we older people--more experienced, wiser, less confined by convention--can have the faith in ourselves and in others to SPEAK UP and GIVE THEM A PIECE OF OUR MIND rather than to just roll over and play dead. We'll be dead soon enough.
To go one more step with life as an ACT OF FAITH, I don't actually know if my next breath might be my last, or the next step I take could be my last. None of us do, whether we are young or old. We BELIEVE we'll last forever. To actually take this reality in allows us to LIVE WITH AWARENESS in this moment, which is the only moment there really is. What will happen in our next moment? What is around our corner? In truth, as we get older we become more "set in our ways," but, strangely or not so strangely, we also become more able to observe, more able to be in each moment, more able to SEE WHAT IS HAPPENING and more able to respond well. We are better able to see and respond because we have learned not to judge by appearances AND we see more clearly because we can "take it with a grain of salt," as it were. We are both kinder and saltier; we won't put up with crap because we value ourselves and our lives. We EXPECT others to behave as we would behave, and we LET THEM KNOW.
When I started writing this, I had no idea what I would say. But I have said what I apparently wished to say. Thank you.
Sunday, May 29, 2011
A RESPONSE TO MINOA
Minoa, thank you for your comments. I'm glad you like the post. I also wish I had an answer to the questions I posted. But then I think our challenge as human beings is not to find the "right answers", but rather to discover the right questions. The right question changes the whole focus. But then, even the notion of "right" anything makes it all too formulaic and too prone to remain clinging to such "rightness" as if it were eternal trueness.
Though we believe in our "deep structures" or "archetypes" or "universals" that appear to be "true" and "eternal," I believe we do not comprehend them in their multidimensional interpretations, and that we consequently misinterpret and simplify them so that they "make sense". Such "making sense" to us gives us a feeling or belief that we are somehow "in control".
Regarding, "our existence", my questions, in retrospect, are a bit artificial and imply one or the other, i.e. "value" vs. "shadow play". In truth, it would be both, wouldn't it? Our existence would have value AND also be "mere ephemeral shadow play". Jung speaks of the vital importance of fantasy as reality, though I shouldn't go there now, since my understanding of that is probably too superficial. Hinduism speaks of the "flux" or "play of the universe” (lila), in and of itself, as though the Atman (the Allness?) "plays with itself" to amuse and probably pleasure itself. It tricks itself into believing it is ... actually differentiated into so many varying expressions in forms. Your response generated a further movement in this ongoing unfolding/unraveling/unwrinkling of penetration of the fabric of the matrix of our human existence and conceivably much more than that. We touch into the seemingly perpetual, at this point, fractal, paradoxical chaos/order of … what, life?
So please feel free to continue the conversation. And anyone else who cares to is also always invited… Your Host,
Joe Leone Thursday, May 12, 2011
JUNG'S RED BOOK, NOT SHAMDASANI'S RED BOOK by Joseph D. Leone, Ph.D.
Shamdasani is fine; he probably did his best. However, he so often distorts, misinterprets, or simply misses Jung’s archetypal references and overarching meanings, that his direction and guidance into Jung’s portion of the Red Book is too much of a misdirection and misguidance. The result is a tainted perception that is given the reader, especially the reader who does not know Jung, that is then brought into the reading of the actual Red Book as written by C. G. Jung. I give Shamdasani credit for what he attempts to accomplish, and do not necessarily suggest that he be simply ignored and not read, however, I do strongly recommend that Jung’s portion of The Red Book be read first, to be then followed by Shamdasani’s portion, which is best taken as a commentary and no more than that. Let Jung explain Jung, and let the reader find meaning in Jung rather than having another rather “in the box Jungian,” exactly the kind that Jung warned us about, explain and interpret such meaning for us.
From the beginning, with my own background in the writings of Jung, I found Shamdasani’s explanations and interpretations of Jung to be too concise, too simplistic at best, and sometimes just plain inaccurate at worst. And so I suggested the radical notion of not reading Shamdasani at all and to go directly to Jung. However, no one else has undertaken the unforgiving job that Shamdasani has, and, for this reason alone, earns him a reading—but only after reading Jung and only as commentary.
I’ll give one case in point, which, in my estimation, is a quite important one, and reveals a rather profound misunderstanding and misinterpretation of Jung, as well as a case of seeing the trees but missing the forest. On page 215 of his Introduction, Shamdasani writes: “This explains why he commented in his afterword to Liber Novus that to the superficial observer, the work would seem like madness, and could have become so, if he had failed to contain and comprehend [my emphasis] the experiences.” When I read this, I thought, “Jung simply would not believe he would necessarily “comprehend” the experiences of The Red Book, though he would focus on containing them.” So I then read the Epilogue (and wondered why Shamdasani referred to it as the “afterword”), in which Jung writes: “To the superficial observer, it will appear like madness. It would also have developed into one, had I not been able to absorb the overpowering force of the original experiences. With the help of alchemy, I could finally arrange them into a whole. … I knew how frightfully inadequate this undertaking was, but despite much work and many distractions, I remained true to it, even if another possibility never…” (and Jung stops abruptly right here never to continue).
It seems to me that Jung is clearly talking about the notion of the all-inclusive transcendent function here, though, to my knowledge, he only later in his career defines it as such. In this all-inclusiveness of the unconscious and the conscious in all its differential and oppositional tension, “comprehension” is probably not possible; rather, “containment” defines the transcendent function. It refers to the ability to hold the tensions of all the archetypal forces without having to react or act them out. To be able to “be with” all of it as proactively and as consciously as possible appears to lead to and achieve a state of “wholeness.” Some comprehension or understanding may occur in the process, but Jung would recognize that such understanding is not vital to attaining “unity” or “wholeness.” And so, Jung accordingly speaks of being “able to absorb the overpowering force of the original experiences,” and being able to “finally arrange them into a whole,” while recognizing “how frightfully inadequate this undertaking was.” To “absorb” is a kind of “containment,” with which I agree, however, there is not necessarily “comprehension” of what is happening.
Once we read Jung’s Red Book, we see that it is not about comprehending the experiences, but about experiencing the experiences deeply, accepting the experience as it is, and re-membering them, which is the “finally arrang[ing] them into a whole.” I do not believe that it serves our understanding of Jung and our trusting of our own experience to allow Shamdasani to explain and interpret Jung’s Red Book experiences for us. It’s as simple as that.
Saturday, April 9, 2011
DEFUSING THE POWER OF "NEGATIVE" THOUGHTS
I can be quite a "negative" thinker at times; full of thoughts of anger, disappointment, failure, hurt, etc. In the past I have been able to maintain a "positive" outlook, reflecting faith in myself, in life, in others, and a hope and confidence that I could "keep on keeping on" in spite of life's challenges and difficulties. But the "negative thinking" of hopelessness and despair sometimes is sometimes simply "what's there" and is not about to be replaced with "positive thinking" regardless of how hard I may try to accomplish this. At these times what might be referred to as "depression" takes hold of my thoughts and prevails at least for a while, perhaps a few days. Whatever I see is interpreted in such a way that I am a victim or others are victims at the effect and mercy of something or someone else. This state of mind is accompanied by a powerlessness and hopelessness that I can even feel in my body as it becomes sore and exhausted, causing me to want to just sleep.
During these times I seek some kind of relief from this onslaught of negative thoughts. I don't pray because I really don't believe in that kind of "rescuing God," or any God, for that matter. I find that to be more wishful thinking than anything else, and very disappointing in that respect. I don't believe in depending on something like that which I really can't trust within my own experience, if that makes sense to you. So, what I've found most helpful over the last thirty years or so is Buddhist meditation, specifically zazen or vipassana, which are variations of the same practice of what I would call simply "being with yourself" in the sense of self-observation, or observing your thoughts as they come and go without following or becoming involved in them, which I call "following them down the rabbit hole."
When I find myself affected by very funky moods that derive from this particular line of negative thoughts, I recommit to a daily schedule of forty minutes of zazen. These last few times I've sat have revealed certain insights of what this process is doing for me, and I trust it because it "makes absolute sense" to me and I also experience a deep sense of peace, if not self-understanding, as a result. For me, zazen effectively defuses the power of my negative thoughts over me. Though I started meditating in the local Buddhist zendo, it is probably just as effective when I do it in my own home. I don't need or particularly appreciate all the Japanese Buddhist accoutrements; I just need the self-observational, or perhaps more accurately, the thought- and body-watching attributes of the meditation.
This meditation allows one to sit and simply observe one's thoughts as they arise, and also one's tendency to "go with" the thoughts, i.e. to react and respond to them, which, in turn, creates more thoughts to react and respond to. As I sit and watch, I am able to see these thoughts as angry, or hurt, or bitter, or painful, or depressive. Sometimes I can even feel them in my muscles or in soreness and tension within my body. But my point is that, by watching the thoughts without following them further, that is, by recognizing them but not reacting to them, they lose their draw, their power, and I am more detached from them. They have not so much control over me. I can see that they are merely my thoughts; I can desensitize myself from them and not have to feel this way or that way because of them. Their power over me diminishes simply through my detached observation of them and of myself as they come into my mind. They also slow down since I am not "feeding" them with my own reactions, and they lose their intensity, and their power, until, at times, they simply ... stop.
In addition to this, as I am aware of these negative thoughts and their connections within my physical body, and as I notice them and their sensations and tensions within my body, they move around my body, sometimes becoming very intense. But then they fade away and vanish, at least for the time being, an my body becomes more and more relaxed. I find my mind becoming peaceful and my body becoming relaxed simply by doing this practice of meditation. Of course, I say "simply" knowing full well that it is not simple in the sense that it is "easy"; it requires a commitment and discipline, but, as I do it each day, I am furthered by its "positive" effects of peace, relaxation, and clarity of mind.
I offer this not as a remedy for everyone, but as something that helps me. It is within my power and not some external magical or divine deity; it is within my grasp, so to speak, and I can trust it as my own. It is not so beyond me as it is within me, which is what I prefer. For those with more faith than I, Godspeed them, but I, for one, prefer my own psychological speed of understanding and comprehension. That's how I am. I offer this in the hope that it might help someone else to find peace, relaxation, and clarity of mind.
During these times I seek some kind of relief from this onslaught of negative thoughts. I don't pray because I really don't believe in that kind of "rescuing God," or any God, for that matter. I find that to be more wishful thinking than anything else, and very disappointing in that respect. I don't believe in depending on something like that which I really can't trust within my own experience, if that makes sense to you. So, what I've found most helpful over the last thirty years or so is Buddhist meditation, specifically zazen or vipassana, which are variations of the same practice of what I would call simply "being with yourself" in the sense of self-observation, or observing your thoughts as they come and go without following or becoming involved in them, which I call "following them down the rabbit hole."
When I find myself affected by very funky moods that derive from this particular line of negative thoughts, I recommit to a daily schedule of forty minutes of zazen. These last few times I've sat have revealed certain insights of what this process is doing for me, and I trust it because it "makes absolute sense" to me and I also experience a deep sense of peace, if not self-understanding, as a result. For me, zazen effectively defuses the power of my negative thoughts over me. Though I started meditating in the local Buddhist zendo, it is probably just as effective when I do it in my own home. I don't need or particularly appreciate all the Japanese Buddhist accoutrements; I just need the self-observational, or perhaps more accurately, the thought- and body-watching attributes of the meditation.
This meditation allows one to sit and simply observe one's thoughts as they arise, and also one's tendency to "go with" the thoughts, i.e. to react and respond to them, which, in turn, creates more thoughts to react and respond to. As I sit and watch, I am able to see these thoughts as angry, or hurt, or bitter, or painful, or depressive. Sometimes I can even feel them in my muscles or in soreness and tension within my body. But my point is that, by watching the thoughts without following them further, that is, by recognizing them but not reacting to them, they lose their draw, their power, and I am more detached from them. They have not so much control over me. I can see that they are merely my thoughts; I can desensitize myself from them and not have to feel this way or that way because of them. Their power over me diminishes simply through my detached observation of them and of myself as they come into my mind. They also slow down since I am not "feeding" them with my own reactions, and they lose their intensity, and their power, until, at times, they simply ... stop.
In addition to this, as I am aware of these negative thoughts and their connections within my physical body, and as I notice them and their sensations and tensions within my body, they move around my body, sometimes becoming very intense. But then they fade away and vanish, at least for the time being, an my body becomes more and more relaxed. I find my mind becoming peaceful and my body becoming relaxed simply by doing this practice of meditation. Of course, I say "simply" knowing full well that it is not simple in the sense that it is "easy"; it requires a commitment and discipline, but, as I do it each day, I am furthered by its "positive" effects of peace, relaxation, and clarity of mind.
I offer this not as a remedy for everyone, but as something that helps me. It is within my power and not some external magical or divine deity; it is within my grasp, so to speak, and I can trust it as my own. It is not so beyond me as it is within me, which is what I prefer. For those with more faith than I, Godspeed them, but I, for one, prefer my own psychological speed of understanding and comprehension. That's how I am. I offer this in the hope that it might help someone else to find peace, relaxation, and clarity of mind.
Saturday, April 2, 2011
ON BEING "TORN": A DILEMMA OF "BEING"
My original intention was to write something in this blog often, even daily. But it hasn't worked out like that. The exigencies, and, frankly, the distractions of life have taken my attention too often to other places than here. And this dilemma faces me in many forms almost constantly. For instance, on one hand, I feel that I should sit down and write as I am doing right now. But, in truth, I seriously wonder if I'm saying anything worth saying, and that my time might be much better spent if I were reading the "wisdom," or, at least, insights and perceptions of others. I don't know if anyone finds this blog in any way useful, but I certainly find what some people have to say to be interesting, if not useful. And I have an inherent reluctance to try to decipher my own thoughts so that you might understand what I'm talking about. I say "you" but I probably mean "me." Isn't that how we are anyway?
So there is this notion of being "torn." But there is more that I see in this dilemma; it pertains to "fate" or even "Fate." I saw a thought-provoking movie last night, called The Time-Traveler's Wife. For me it was a portrayal of the fluidity and relativity of time and space, and of how we lock ourselves in, if you will, to certain realities and very specific ways of seeing. Tied in to this line of thought, for me anyway, is the idea of Fate, or what is destined to occur. We usually view Fate as "out there" rather than "in here." In other words, it is extenal to our internal being. It happens to us and we are the recipients of Fate. I almost deifying it with the capital "F" and I don't quite want to do it like that, so take it with a grain of salt.
We see Fate much like we see Nature; as "out there." We separate ourselves from both Fate and Nature, that we view as happening to us. However, this is NOT how it is at all, in my estimation. The way I see it is that there is Fate "out there" to the extent that we are out there and not present with or within ourselves. In truth, we are a part of Fate, if you will, just as we are a part of Nature. Or Fate is a part of us just as Nature is a part of us. We cannot separate ourselves from either Fate or Nature. And I see that this is part and parcel of the argument that we have "free will" even in the midst of the power of Fate and/or Nature. I'm biting off more than I can chew or care to chew here, but now I see us in the role of Job, who is nothing compared to God, but he discovers that his recognition of the power of God, and his absolute reality of comprehension in that recognition, ties him to God and, consequently, God's power. Could this be Ahab tied on Moby Dick?
I wanted to keep it simple and then just wind it up more or less neatly, but I've failed and only confused things more. However, this is the Fate of the moment; to open it all up further and make it more and more complex. Fate is no so simple, and the problem is that we want it to all be "understandable." If it could all just "make sense," we would be happy. We would know we were "good" or that "God loves us" or even "bad" and are going to be punished. But it's not so easy or so simple as that, and, what's worse, we have to live with the often horrendous contraditions. We are contradictions to ourselves. This is what happens when you realize that at least a very small part of your fate lies in your own hands. One who claims to know told me that the Tibetan Buddhist prayer, "Om mani padme hum" translates to, "I hold the lotus in my hand." And I am the lotus as well as the hand holding it. This "fatedness" is the essence of existence. It is also reflected in Jung's notion of the "transcendent function," in which all the variables of life are included, even those not known. And so I find myself abit "torn" somewhat often. Sealing the deck of my home has been somewhat properly distracting. Perhaps life is meant to be one big overwhelming distraction...
So there is this notion of being "torn." But there is more that I see in this dilemma; it pertains to "fate" or even "Fate." I saw a thought-provoking movie last night, called The Time-Traveler's Wife. For me it was a portrayal of the fluidity and relativity of time and space, and of how we lock ourselves in, if you will, to certain realities and very specific ways of seeing. Tied in to this line of thought, for me anyway, is the idea of Fate, or what is destined to occur. We usually view Fate as "out there" rather than "in here." In other words, it is extenal to our internal being. It happens to us and we are the recipients of Fate. I almost deifying it with the capital "F" and I don't quite want to do it like that, so take it with a grain of salt.
We see Fate much like we see Nature; as "out there." We separate ourselves from both Fate and Nature, that we view as happening to us. However, this is NOT how it is at all, in my estimation. The way I see it is that there is Fate "out there" to the extent that we are out there and not present with or within ourselves. In truth, we are a part of Fate, if you will, just as we are a part of Nature. Or Fate is a part of us just as Nature is a part of us. We cannot separate ourselves from either Fate or Nature. And I see that this is part and parcel of the argument that we have "free will" even in the midst of the power of Fate and/or Nature. I'm biting off more than I can chew or care to chew here, but now I see us in the role of Job, who is nothing compared to God, but he discovers that his recognition of the power of God, and his absolute reality of comprehension in that recognition, ties him to God and, consequently, God's power. Could this be Ahab tied on Moby Dick?
I wanted to keep it simple and then just wind it up more or less neatly, but I've failed and only confused things more. However, this is the Fate of the moment; to open it all up further and make it more and more complex. Fate is no so simple, and the problem is that we want it to all be "understandable." If it could all just "make sense," we would be happy. We would know we were "good" or that "God loves us" or even "bad" and are going to be punished. But it's not so easy or so simple as that, and, what's worse, we have to live with the often horrendous contraditions. We are contradictions to ourselves. This is what happens when you realize that at least a very small part of your fate lies in your own hands. One who claims to know told me that the Tibetan Buddhist prayer, "Om mani padme hum" translates to, "I hold the lotus in my hand." And I am the lotus as well as the hand holding it. This "fatedness" is the essence of existence. It is also reflected in Jung's notion of the "transcendent function," in which all the variables of life are included, even those not known. And so I find myself abit "torn" somewhat often. Sealing the deck of my home has been somewhat properly distracting. Perhaps life is meant to be one big overwhelming distraction...
Friday, March 11, 2011
APOCALYPSE, "TO UNCOVER, REVEAL"
The first thing that crossed my mind as I watched the aerial view of the tsunami surging across the coastal area of Japan was "apocalypse, the end of the world." I experienced the 7.1 magnitude Loma Prieta earthquake whose epicenter was just a few miles from my home back in 1989. But this Japanese earthquake was 8.9 and lasted approximately two minutes compared to just fifteen seconds. We humans are as ants on a big, round anthill -- that has natural distasters now and then.
But as I thought "apocalypse" and "end of the world," I realized that this kind of thing has been happening throughout the history of the Earth. It is not a stagnant, inanimate round lump; it is dynamically alive and organic. Some natural disasters could end much of life on the planet, or, more likely, could dramtically change the way in which various species survive. Civilization as we know it could end; solar storms could easily burn out space satellites and disrupt communication and the grid of communication for some time.
What I noticed was that I immediately went to a Biblical interpretation and view of "apocalypse," complete with the "end of the world" scenario, with "God" inherently if not directly involved. It was almost a comfort to automatically bring in a mythological story about "what would happen." We do the same thing with ourselves when we think about or approach death; when people die, they are free of all concerns and, if they were "good," they go to Heaven and are with God.
I don't believe it's like that though. I don't believe anything is so simplistic and superficial as that. So I checked "apocalypse" and found it to translate as "to uncover, to reveal." On a grand Biblical scale, it means "Revelation," however, "apocalypse" is not "The Apocalypse," and should not be defined as such. So, now I consider apocalypse as an uncovering or revealing. What is uncovered? What is revealed? Our selves as human beings, first; in fact, as human beings quite interconnected with all other human beings. I watched what was happening in Japan, and I realized that what mattered to me was that people like myself were drowning, that people like myself were going through very painful, hellish experiences. I felt their fear, their pain, their confusion, their helplessness in that moment -- even as I sat comfortably and safely in my living room watching it all TV. At that moment, in their lives and in my life, our humanity was being uncovered.
Was this merely a fear that "it could happen to me"? Or was it an actual experience of "their" pain and fear as if it were my own? When something "bad" happens to someone else, do we, for a brief moment in our imagination, put ourselves in their place so as to somehow be prepared for such an occurrence if it were to happen to us? Is it a kind of preparation for the worst so that we might be able to better survive? Or is it a kind of almost unconscious compassion; a sharing of the pain they are in so that they do not have to bear all of it?
I am not so interested in answering this question as I am in posing it. It is a question for each of us to answer for ourselves. And what I'm most interested in conveying here is that it is more important to be able to recognize and respond to what is being uncovered and revealed about us as human beings, and particularly, fellow human beings, than it is to revert to some Biblical fairy tale about "end time." It may be that "end time" will, in fact, come in due time, however, in the meantime, we are human beings whose shared humanity is all to often unexpressed, covered up, and unrevealed. Let us recognize an apocalypse as an uncovering and a revelation of connectedness as human beings. We may have many beliefs about God or no-God, which may or may not be valid, however, our relationship and interconnectedness with all other human beings, and all other life for that matter, is a reality most of us can acknowledge. If the world ends, fine, but in the meantime, let us learn to find the other in ourselves, and live accordingly.
But as I thought "apocalypse" and "end of the world," I realized that this kind of thing has been happening throughout the history of the Earth. It is not a stagnant, inanimate round lump; it is dynamically alive and organic. Some natural disasters could end much of life on the planet, or, more likely, could dramtically change the way in which various species survive. Civilization as we know it could end; solar storms could easily burn out space satellites and disrupt communication and the grid of communication for some time.
What I noticed was that I immediately went to a Biblical interpretation and view of "apocalypse," complete with the "end of the world" scenario, with "God" inherently if not directly involved. It was almost a comfort to automatically bring in a mythological story about "what would happen." We do the same thing with ourselves when we think about or approach death; when people die, they are free of all concerns and, if they were "good," they go to Heaven and are with God.
I don't believe it's like that though. I don't believe anything is so simplistic and superficial as that. So I checked "apocalypse" and found it to translate as "to uncover, to reveal." On a grand Biblical scale, it means "Revelation," however, "apocalypse" is not "The Apocalypse," and should not be defined as such. So, now I consider apocalypse as an uncovering or revealing. What is uncovered? What is revealed? Our selves as human beings, first; in fact, as human beings quite interconnected with all other human beings. I watched what was happening in Japan, and I realized that what mattered to me was that people like myself were drowning, that people like myself were going through very painful, hellish experiences. I felt their fear, their pain, their confusion, their helplessness in that moment -- even as I sat comfortably and safely in my living room watching it all TV. At that moment, in their lives and in my life, our humanity was being uncovered.
Was this merely a fear that "it could happen to me"? Or was it an actual experience of "their" pain and fear as if it were my own? When something "bad" happens to someone else, do we, for a brief moment in our imagination, put ourselves in their place so as to somehow be prepared for such an occurrence if it were to happen to us? Is it a kind of preparation for the worst so that we might be able to better survive? Or is it a kind of almost unconscious compassion; a sharing of the pain they are in so that they do not have to bear all of it?
I am not so interested in answering this question as I am in posing it. It is a question for each of us to answer for ourselves. And what I'm most interested in conveying here is that it is more important to be able to recognize and respond to what is being uncovered and revealed about us as human beings, and particularly, fellow human beings, than it is to revert to some Biblical fairy tale about "end time." It may be that "end time" will, in fact, come in due time, however, in the meantime, we are human beings whose shared humanity is all to often unexpressed, covered up, and unrevealed. Let us recognize an apocalypse as an uncovering and a revelation of connectedness as human beings. We may have many beliefs about God or no-God, which may or may not be valid, however, our relationship and interconnectedness with all other human beings, and all other life for that matter, is a reality most of us can acknowledge. If the world ends, fine, but in the meantime, let us learn to find the other in ourselves, and live accordingly.
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