2/12/22

"What is the happy life? It is peace of mind, and lasting tranquillity. This will be yours if you possess greatness of soul; it will be yours if you possess the steadfastness that resolutely clings to a good judgment just reached. How does a person reach this condition? By gaining a complete view of truth, by maintaining, in all that they do, order, measure, fitness, and a will that is inoffensive and kindly, that is intent upon reason and never departs therefrom, that commands at the same time love and admiration. In short, to give you the principle in brief compass, the wise person's soul ought to be such as would be proper for a god. What more can one desire who possesses all honourable things? For if dishonourable things can contribute to the best estate, then there will be the possibility of a happy life under conditions which do not include an honourable life. And what is more base or foolish than to connect the good of a rational soul with things irrational?" — Seneca, Letter XCII (adapted from the Richard M. Gummere translation)

2/1/22

Just happened to read this first chapter of Ursula Le Guin's translation of the Tao Te Ching, which is as follows:

The way you can go
isn’t the real way.
The name you can say
isn’t the real name.

Heaven and earth
begin in the unnamed:
name’s the mother
of the ten thousand things.

So the unwanting soul
sees what’s hidden,
and the ever-wanting soul
sees only what it wants.

Two things, one origin,
but different in name,
whose identity is mystery.
Mystery of all mysteries!
The door to the hidden.

Le Guin's Notes:

A satisfactory translation of this chapter is, I believe, perfectly impossible. It contains the book. I think of it as the Aleph, in Borges’s story: if you see it rightly, it contains everything.

The first thing I thought of while reading this was the juxtaposition of a mind seeking out of craving and desire and attachment vs. a mind characterized by non-attachment in the Buddhist sense (AN 4.10), with the parts about 'name' reminding me of how name and form (nama-rupa) — our tainted conceptual understanding of our experience of mentality-physicality (or mind and body) and the sense of self we construct around it — arise through the process of dependent co-arising (SN 12.67). And, conversely, the seeing of the truth of 'things as they are' and the nature of the unconditioned, nibbana, arises from its cessation and the unfolding of transcendental co-arising (AN 11.2, SN 12.23).

In other words, you can't condition the unconditioned, but you can condition an end to conditioning, thereby opening up to the experience of the unconditioned already present and hidden in plain sight. Hence, the unwanting soul sees the hidden, i.e.:

"For a person who knows & sees things as they actually are, there is no need for an act of will, 'May I feel disenchantment.' It is in the nature of things that a person who knows & sees things as they actually are feels disenchantment.

"For a person who feels disenchantment, there is no need for an act of will, 'May I grow dispassionate.' It is in the nature of things that a person who feels disenchantment grows dispassionate.

"For a dispassionate person, there is no need for an act of will, 'May I realize the knowledge & vision of release.' It is in the nature of things that a dispassionate person realizes the knowledge & vision of release. (AN 11.2, Thanissaro)

And I think Le Guin is right that this chapter contains everything, much like how the footprint of the elephant encompasses all others. And in the same vein, I'm a perennialist in the sense that I see all of our various religious traditions as smaller footprints encompassed by a larger, universal truth we're all struggling to apprehend. Just different fingers all pointing towards the same moon (i.e., the Tao = the Dhamma = God, etc.).

Tao is a word that's used to describe both the nature of things as they are and the way that's in line with the nature of things as they are. This, I think, is akin to Dhamma, which is also used to describe the nature of things as they are as well as the way that's in line with the nature of things as they are. God, nature, or whatever else we want to call it from the Western POV is synonymous, as it is an all-encompassing term denoting the totality of being. The morality of kamma = the will of God. And words like nibbana, the unconditioned, etc. are simply ways we characterize the underlying nature of reality — i.e., the ground of being, the existence of which is neither dependent upon nor determined by anything else — that we may glimpse with unrestricted awareness (AN 10.81). When we remove ignorance and see the world free from attachment and unclouded by ignorance, we are awakened. Our darkness has been enlightened. We step through the door to the hidden and perceive the oneness that lies on the other side. But people have a habit of getting stuck on the words and concepts and grasping them as the true reality. They see the finger and its ornaments and focus on that, missing the moon that we all are able to see when our eyes are not shrouded and we are looking in the right direction.

The real question is, am I on to something with all of this or just an uninstructed, run-of-the-mill heretic?

1/30/22

I rather like this definition of fellowship from Brian McLaren:

Fellowship is a kind of belonging that isn’t based on status, achievement, or gender, but instead is based on a deep belief that everyone matters, everyone is welcome, and everyone is loved, no conditions, no exceptions. It’s not the kind of belonging you find at the top of the ladder among those who think they are the best, but at the bottom among all the rest, with all the other failures and losers who have either climbed the ladder and fallen, or never gotten up enough gumption to climb in the first place.

I see that a lot in Jesus and the way he tried to include everyone, especially those who were on the margins of society or even excluded from it.

1/25/22

I had an interesting, somewhat enlightening, and moving experience at work the other day.

It began when I was rooming a patient during a busy day. And it came up that they happened to be a Vietnam vet. They mentioned that they were 19 when they went overseas and that they regretted what happened to the Vietnamese people because they didn't deserve it and we should have never been there in the first place. And we talked a little bit more about that and some other things, like how he was worried we'd get into a conflict in Ukraine and at least Trump hadn't started another war and other things that veered more along conservative lines of thought that I tend to strongly disagree with.

At the time, I thought 'oh boy, one of them.' But I remained as neutral and empathetic as I could as I finished all of my rooming duties and got them ready for the doctor. After the doctor saw the patient, they told me that the patient said they thought "that young kid" was really kind, which gave everyone a laugh because I'm definitely not a young anything anymore. I also learned that they have a brain tumor that's essentially terminal and they likely have less than a year to live. And it made me extremely sad but also happy that I didn't allow myself to show how I felt about some of the things they said and was still able to be caring and empathetic and helpful.

It makes me wish that I could always be that way instead of letting my emotions get the better of me and act without thinking about the totality of someone's life and how I have no idea what they are going through. It's so easy to react in the moment and judge people by that singular context even if we intentionally try to see beyond them, and doubly so when we're placed in positions of stress and limited time. We are so ingrained to be quick and efficient and get through whatever task as fast as possible that we have less patience and empathy for others we meet, seeing only the task or the superficialities that bother us and not the person underneath.

As with most people, I've had these kinds of experiences and little insights before, but it's easy to forget those lessons over time. And it's nice to have moments like this as a reminder to continue to make an effort to see deeper and react less, especially when I'm stretched thin and at my most snarky and cynical. Because everybody at least deserves to have their humanity recognized, if just for one fleeting moment.

1/19/22

Going through Richard Rohr's reflections today and came across this:

There’s really only one message, and we just have to keep saying it until finally we’re undefended enough to hear it and to believe it: there is no separation between God and creation. That’s the message. But we can’t believe it.

And so this Word, this Eternal Word of God that we read about in the prologue to John’s Gospel, leapt down, as the Book of Wisdom [18:14–15] [1] says, and took its abiding place on Earth, in order to heal every bit of separation and splitness that we experience. That splitness and separation is the sadness of the human race. When we feel separate, when we feel disconnected, when we feel split from our self, from our family, from reality, from the Earth, from God, we will be angry and depressed people. Because we know we weren’t created for that separateness; we were created for union.

It stood out to me for some reason, and I think it's something I should try to reflect on as much as I can.

What does it really mean for us if there's no separation between God and creation?

1/14/22

Prayer. I hear a lot of people criticize prayer and the uselessness of it, and I find my agreeing on a superficial level but definitely not on a deeper, more contemplative one.

Prayer, to me, is many things, things that go beyond empty words and magical thinking. Prayer can also be an act of contemplation. An ignition of a spark of hope when we have no other reason to endure. A silent cry of desperation or anguish or remorse when we're at our darkest and alone. A genuine desire for happiness and peace and a mental act of compassion. A reaching out of the heart towards others, ourselves, and the infinite all. And last but not least, an intention that conditions action, one ideally arising out of love and free from greed, anger, and delusion.

I think that many people have a misunderstanding of what prayer is, especially following a tragic event or some difficult news. People will often offer their "thoughts and prayers" and not much else, and many people (rightly I think) get upset when that's the extent of the general reaction. It does appear empty many times. But I see prayer as much more than that, and I believe such an understanding is a spiritually immature one. While the idea of prayer is often boiled down to 'just wish for something you want to happen,' and viewed by many as an empty gesture wholly without substance, I think it's actually more akin to the Buddhist kamma, i.e., an intention that translates into action of body, speech, and mind. Thus, prayer is intimately tied to action.

For example, from the Catholic point of view, as Pope Francis stressed in one of his Sunday Angelus messages in 2013, "Prayer that doesn't lead to concrete action toward our brothers [and sisters] is a fruitless and incomplete prayer ... prayer and action must always be profoundly united. [...] Together, they are 'essential.' Prayer and action 'should never be separated, but lived in profound unity and harmony.'" Moreover, prayer is the foundation of all charitable works, and as he also noted, the motto of the father of Christian monasticism, St. Benedict, was 'ora et labora' ("prayer and work"), further illustrating the intimate connection between the two. And this idea can be found in other religious traditions as well.

Prayer is the heart in action. Ultimately, prayer is more than the ignorance of fools, even if the fools far outnumber the wise (although we're all fools sometimes). I feel as if most of the time, I'm just passing the time until I die. But prayer is when I'm truly living. Most people won't understand what that means, but perhaps some will.

1/1/22

Last night, I wrote a message to Amanda, the pastor at Central Lutheran, asking if she'd consider guiding me a bit, sort of like an informal spiritual director or spiritual friend. I basically explained that I wasn't looking for someone necessarily trained as a spiritual director so much as just someone to help guide me a bit. Someone wise and caring and open and who's good with people who aren't generally good with other people themselves. I mentioned that I'm really picky when it comes to spiritual leaders and teachers, and I asked her because my visits to Central and all of our interactions had already done a lot for me. I was falling out of things for a bit and becoming very cynical and she helped bring me back from that in a lot of ways. I honestly thought she'd politely decline because she's already so busy and I'm not even technically a member of Central Lutheran, just a semi-regular visitor. But to my surprise and happiness, she agreed and our first meeting is this coming Thursday! I'm not sure what to expect, but I know that some of the things I hope to get out if it are:

1) to understand God better
2) to understand the Lutheran church and its approach to God, spirituality, etc.
3) to be more motivated to improve myself and follow the example of Jesus
4) fellowship/friendship
5) ways to get more involved

More than anything, though, I simply want to grow, both spiritually and just as a person, and I can't think of anyone else I'd want to help me with that. Amanda is such an amazing and inspiring person and I feel exceptionally lucky that she's willing to take the time to chat with me.