HUMAN BEINGS "FINDING HEAVEN"

Since I was a child I every so often, after watching people on the street living their lives, asked myself, "Am I actually one of these?" It's not that I ever saw or imagined myself to be from another planet or even of another species; I just marveled that I could be one of these human beings, or even inhabiting a human body. I have always simply wanted human beings to be humane, which is to say, aware of, even caring for, others than only themselves. I was always so struck by their loudness, gracelessness, crudeness, obliviousness, and insensitivity. I am aware that so much of this simply is part and parcel of the deteriorating physicality of the species in itself, but there is also the utter need to escape from the weltschmerz, Schopenhauer's term, for the "world sorrow," the "world pain." But I am digressing into philosophical tangents.

I have often felt, since childhood, that the body, though beautiful in so many ways, is just disgusting. True, in my hedonistic hippie days, when the body was to be literally worshipped, I was most devoutly religious in that respect. However, I still saw us humans as fancy worms. I found myself to be a firm believer in the notion of the spirit-within-flesh, quite imprisoned, and having to learn all about this incarnational descent to be culminated in ascent to spirit, over numerous lifetimes. I definitely took to the Gnostic notion of the profound difficulty of disidentifying with the flesh, no matter how deep the "true spiritual understanding." Such "transcending" based upon one's ability to "transmute" was far easier said than done. Of course, being taught in Catholic school of the "evil" and "sinfulness" of the body did much to train my thinking along such lines. 

At this point, it is obvious to me that the species seeks to survive by propagating itself, and that the survival instinct is inherently more powerful--and deeper--than any such "comprehension" anyone may have about "physical existence." However, it may be that, as one is able to come to "deeper" comprehension of what it is to be human, some kind of "transmutation" does occur. It could simply be that the species prefers to leave such tasks to those more capable of carrying it forward, that is, the young, and not the old. Though an elderly one may see himself as always youthful, there is still no fool like an old fool. One can perhaps remain youthful and creative in mind, but not in body, regardless of good health and stamina. Even trees know this. 

I never know where these "conversations with myself" that I am sharing with a more or less non-existent audience will lead. This much is obvious to me anyway. They just "go where they go." I once got lost in the Los Padres National Forest, just south of the New Camaldoli Hermitage, and decided that I would follow a stream in the belief that it would "lead to the ocean." Instead, I followed a most-meandering stream for hours until it was almost dark, before I finally followed a deer path, climbed up the steep ridge, and saw the sun setting over the ocean. In other words, my meandering doesn't necessarily lead to any "greater context" whatsoever. I am definitely a seeker of Greater Context, but I think one must find "heaven on earth," before one can ever go to heaven. This is often enough like finding heaven in hell, but such is probably required, at least to my mind.

If I were an alien, I would report back to my superiors: "These human beings, as they are called, are most strange. They emit noises from their upper orifice and refer to it as 'communication.' It is most cacaphonous, shrill, unharmonious, and often violent. Whereas the noises they release from their lower orifice tends to be deep, resonant, and pleasant, though they complain of the odor and find it to be 'offensive.' I believe it would behoove them to change their mode of interaction." I have yet to discover what planet or galaxy I come from.

REMAINING DEEPLY SUPERFICIAL AND A REGRET

In the 1980s, when I was at my physical and mental peak, as well as highly successful in the "business world," I created what I thought was my own self-effacing and most wonderful quote: "I am a deeply superficial person." It always got a big laugh and even a bigger laugh from me because I considered it to be the actual truth about myself. And then, in the early 90s, while scanning an Andy Warhol daily calendar consisting of his quotes, I saw the exact same quote as mine quoted by Warhol. In some way, I felt honored to have had my quote used by this prime cynic of the century...

But let me speak of regret. Regrets pertain to that which we can actually do something about, rather than to acts of fate or nature. One cannot rightfully regret someone's death, though they can certainly regret not saying "I love you" when they could have. I have made many mistakes in my life that I regret, all of them far more important in the scheme of my life than this particular one, however, in my deep superficiality, this is one that will probably forever "stick in my craw."

When I was in high school in the early 60s, I had a girlfriend, Stephanie, who was very hip, whereas I was pretty much still a punk and greaser, as such were called in those days. Stephanie was more of what might have been called a beatnik. Her brother was particularly so, as well as a musician who played banjo and mandolin (though I'm not certain about the latter). I was asked by Stephanie twice (on two different weekends) if I would like to stay at Bob Dylan's house over in Stockbridge for the weekend. Her brother played music with Bob Dylan. I believe she said "Bobby Zimmerman's house." And at least one of the times I said, "I don't want to go to no beatnik fag's house." That's how stupid and ignorant I actually was, believe it or not. Not even close to being deeply superficial, I was that stupid. Now I so kick myself and am also ashamed at how much I prided myself on my ignorance (though I don't think I would have been a Trump supporter, had he been around).

Had I gone, my life would most probably have changed radically at that point. Later, I was deeply touched by Dylan's music and poetry. Within eight years, I would be living in a commune in California, but had I begun at the tender age of 15 or 16, things would've changed much sooner and I would've been affected by direct contact with Dylan. Or, the opposite might have happened. I perhaps could have been absolutely freaked out and turned off by him and gone in some opposite direction (though I sincerely doubt that). Being a positivist by nature, that is, expansive in my thinking and dreaming, I see my choice as a definite rejection of a great opportunity to expand my whole being. I may have made up later for any rejection of expansion at that point, but the regret lingers. And the more I listen to Dylan, the more I hear him. He was the voice and the soul of the 20th century and remains so.

Looking back at myself in my life and at how callously I acted towards people actually creates heartache within me, for I was utterly narcissistic. Now I'm just narcissistic and not so utterly. I realize now that I did deeply hurt others, especially women I was involved with. I would not do now what I did then. I am a different person in that regard. And the particularly strange part of it is that I believed myself to be a "kind, loving, and spiritual" person. I believe I was ultimately "saved" by my daughter who was born with "profound autism." Her reality and presence "shook me to the core" and I learned there were other people besides just myself. As I have said previously, life is most difficult, but it is that very difficulty that demonstrates to us that life is good, that we ourselves are good, and, obviously, that others are good.

I realize that my talk meanders, that I meander. But I once described myself as "the mountain stream" as it babbles along, bouncing off its own banks, always flowing, sometimes fast, sometimes slow. If I can find some of this old poety, I'll publish it here; it was good, inspired by Sarah, my daughter, and the reality she brought into my life. 

THE ONLY CHOICE: LIFE IS GOOD

Much time has passed and I have not had the words and still don't. But words do come to pass at times. We can write only for ourselves; no one else can even listen, much less comprehend. We can barely comprehend ourselves, yet our voices, for some of us, are compelled to come forth, if simply as cryings in the wilderness.
For it is a wilderness and we are wild, though trying to create a semblance of sanity, of normalcy. Children actually come to believe that their parents are sane, though, for many, they realize otherwise in due time; usually too late, usually after they themselves have been tainted and infected by their parent so much that they become them.

We humans are meaning-seekers, never realizing that there is no inherent meaning to anything other than that we have given to things. The only saving grace, as it were, that we have is mercy. If there were such a thing as God, as anything that knew anything, as anything that could "make it better," oh, I would pray that the suffering people might receive a reprieve, a moment of joy rather than sorrow and pain. I would pray in an instant. But I am not such a believer. I would rather suffer the sorrow than pretend, than deceive myself. I have no choice but to know that I am not separate from these other human beings, for I feel them, and know them in this respect. I cannot save them, but I can feel them--and this is not an easy thing nor a preferable thing. I would rather not feel them at all, and find some way to escape this, but, in truth, there is no escape. And there is no escape from oneself in one's own life. We must live with it. I would say "live with it as it is," but then, how is it? What I think and believe and feel is not "how it is" but, rather, how I see it. "It" has no meaning other than my reaction, my interpretation, my experience.

This "seeing" is closer than other ways of seeing. Removing "meaning" does not remove color and movement, thought and feeling. Seeing as I do is difficult but also merciful in the sense that it probably hides or covers up less, and there is less denial of reality. This is just what I prefer, that's all. Many prefer "God" and even a "loving God," which is fine as long as it can last, which may be a lifetime. Is it better to feel the heartache for those who suffer, the weltschmertz, the "world pain"? It's not better, no, but it's there, it's here. Human beings suffer. Their lives are most difficult. I feel that one must accept this as one's own, that there can be no avoidance of being human. Gibran spoke of those who "cry all of their tears and laugh all of their laughter" and noted that it is the same well from which joy and sorrow are drawn. This makes life no easier to accept, and it is not to be understood, since there is no "understanding of life"; there is only seeing it as it is, and knowing that it can never be seen "as it is" because it is no particular way whatsoever. My only choice is to somehow find kindness and to even be of good cheer--even in the midst of profound anger and sorrow and pain. Life is hard but life is also good. We may come to realize that this is the only choice we have in our lives.

HOW ONE PERSON SEES BEING

As I have become more and more formally familiar with what would be called "zen mind" (or, more accurately, "zen no-mind") over the last fifty years, since age twenty or so, I see that even as a young child I was drawn towards that which was not apparent or not even, for all intents and purposes, there. As a young child, I was intently curious to find that which could not be "found," that which could not be spoken; I knew within myself that there was "something more" or "something quite hidden" that lay behind all appearances and was alive within myself. I'm not sure what happened first but both events did happen when I was seven years of age and had just moved into a "new" home in Albany (New York) in 1954. One event was that I was very sick with a fever and that I experienced myself literally "vanishing" before my eyes; I vanished from my own sight though I knew my consciousness was still present. The other event entails the fact that six months before we moved into our new home, the man who had lived there, came home one day from the bank where he worked and had hung himself in what was to become my bedroom. To be succinct, he appeared to me as a hanging man, eyes bugged and tongue hanging out, at the end of my bed, horrifying me. Then, realizing he had badly frightened me, he returned soon after as a voice and a physical presence but without physical appearance, that is, invisible. He was my friend for a number of years and we communicated almost every night. There is another ongoing event that eventually led me to an appearance of "zen accomplishment" but was really no such thing. My father, who had severe PTSD from WWII and D-Day, would go into freak-outs and be very physically abusive of me. At such times I "naturally" would leave my body to avoid the pain being inflicted upon me. I had a "ghost" as my best friend, so my "leaving the body" seemed rather natural to me as well. Many years later, the "zens" (I mean no disrepect with this term) thought I was quite an advanced meditator since I could "sit" (zazen) motionless for up to seven hours at a time. Once I realized how easy it was for me to "leave my body" like that, it became apparent that my challenge was to actually "come back in" to my body. In time I learned to live in my body and stay in when faced with confrontations, to the point of even getting into fights now and then (though more for self-protection and protection of others than mere arrogance). 

As time has progressed, my thinking has tended more and more towards zen notions of mu ("nothingness" or "emptiness" or "being") and Daoist notions of wu ("non-being" or "primordial being"). It seems to me, based on my own experience, that life and living point in this direction of a kind of "primordial oneness of being" in which no thing and no self (as ego) exist. I don't tend to be in that awareness at all but have seemed to have tasted it, as it were, in zazen and vipassana meditations and also in those few years in my 20s when I had the opportunity to take large amounts of LSD. The "spiritually hallucinogenic" qualities of lysergic acid are traced back to the Eleusinian Mysteries of the Temple of Demeter and beyond. Zen promulgates the "ordinary" of everyday life as the sacred "suchness of being." This is where my interest lies, though such an interest is not particularly conducive to any kind of conceptual writing, which is more of a Western habit of mental expression. I am still considering once again changing the title of the blog to Human Being, after already changing it to its current title. I seem to get more and more and more basic in my worldview or essential questioning. I also appreciate the notion that zen is based in the ability to doubt and to question, to always "look beneath," as it were, while in the midst of the "here and now" apparent world.

BEYOND "COLLECTIVE UNCONSCIOUS", BENEATH "SELF"

Over many years I felt that Jung's "view of reality," as it were, fell short, that is, was quite incomplete, though, in all fairness, deeper and more complete than most other psychological perspectives. I particularly found that his perspectives on "Eastern" approaches to reality, such as Buddhism and Daoism, even in lieu of the fact that he wrote the Introduction to Wilhelm's I Ching, were lacking, not necessarily in the analytical sense but absolutely in the experiential sense. I wondered how he could even think to comment on the essence of Buddhist meditation, for instance, having never practised it himself, but based on his intellectual "analysis" of it. In my own experience of many, many years of zazen and vipassana meditation, its "essence" is not an intellectual, mental, or even intuitive conclusion whatsoever; rather, it is more of a state of being. I attempted on occassion to articulate this point to my various associates who were followers of Jung and considered themselves to be "Jungians," but I was never articulate enough to convey my point either accurately or successfully, even though I did write a few essays regarding Jung's failure to comprehend or experience the essence of Buddhism or Daoism. I say this in no way to denigrate from Jung's accomplishments in going farther than other Western psychologists in his search for and understanding of the soul.

I recently came across something that may convey somewhat of what I had wanted to convey. David Brazier, in his book, Zen Therapy: Transcending the Sorrow of the Human Mind, is able to capsulize Zen teachings and articulate them quite well. He integrates Zen thinking with many Western psychological approaches quite well.  What follows is germane to my point:

"In Buddhist psychology, the word 'self' is the collective noun for all conditioning. In the west, most psychology is concerned with the level of the mind called 'consciousness' or ego. Most psychology is ego psychology. There are psychologies which try to reach deeper than this and go into the unconscious layer. Then there is what is call 'depth psychology' which attempts to fathom the collective unconscious. Zen is the attempt to go even further than this: (Brazier, 81)

 We have unknown layers, or realms of consciousness within  us. And through meditation,we can perceive how states of  consciousness can be altered ... We begin to realize that 
 we are, in fact, a storehouse for all human history. Jung  termed these deep layers of the psyche as 'the collective  unconscious', and asserted that they were the most  profound parts of our nature. With continuing experiences  in meditation, however, we come to realize that this  theory is not quite right. We can actually penetrate beyond  [though I  would say 'beneath'] the depths of the collective  unconscious of human nature and there come to the  bottomless sea of Buddha-nature. If we go beyond the  collective  unconscious, thereby breaking through the final  barrier of the unconscious layers, we experience true birth  completely anew in the ocean of true emptiness. this is  infinite freedom of no-self, no-mind, no-idea; this is life  itself, completely unconditioned. Here in the infinite no-  mind we find flowers, the moon, our friends and  families,  and all things just as they are; we appreciate our everyday  lives as miracles. But please confirm this for yourself. (Hogen, Y. On the Open Way. Liskeard, Cornwall:Jiko Oasis  Books, 1993)"

Brazier goes on to say, "Even the archetypes of the collective unconscious represent ways of dividing the world of experience. Often enough, the contents of the unconscious are the 'other halves' [a reference to William James's notion of the two 'halves' of 'me' and 'not me'], the split-off parts, of our consciousness which we have repressed. Discovering them can thus be an important step on the road to wholeness. Rather than putting ourselves back together item by item, however, Zen offers the more demanding route of rediscovering the original unity directly through experiences of 'sudden awakening'." (Brazier, Zen Therapy, 83)

In other words, Zen tries to return us to our "primordial nature," or "original awareness," which is a "whole or unified ground of being," rather than being "individually mine/ours." In this respect, "I" do not exist there/here. 

In presenting this perspective, I do not pretend to possess it, though aspects of it have become known to me on occassion. 

"SEEING THROUGH YOURSELF": ANOTHER TAKE

When I first came up with the part of the blog title, SEEING THROUGH YOURSELF, my view was simply one-dimensional: to "see through yourself" is to see through what you believe yourself to be, and thus, see beyond your own little world and your own little mind, as it were. However, there is another meaning that I just realized today while walking in the forest: you also see "by means of" yourself. In other words, it is "yourself" by which, through which, you are able to understand who and what you are. If yourself was not present and involved, you would not possess the means, the vehicle, by which you are understandable to yourself. "You" can't get anywhere without yourself. We need ourselves if we are to be able to "see," to understand. We are our own agents in this process of self-understanding. Yourself provides both the necessary motivation and the required means to self-knowledge. This sounds utterly simplistic but it has immense implications, such as: it is myself who seeks to see who I am, what I'm doing, and why I'm doing it, or thinking, or feeling it. There is no other in this mix; no deity and no corresponding belief system which relegates yourself to a secondary agency in the process. You are "it" for yourself. Eventually we ponder the notion of there being no "you" at all, but in the beginning in particular, there is what you call and believe to be "yourself." In my own estimation you have to "find yourself" before you can "get beyond yourself." Most of us tend to start out "lost" rather than "found," and then may possibly move on to being "neither lost nor found." In my estimation we must first "have a sense of ourself" and move on from there. Socrates said, "To know thyself is the beginning of wisdom."

You may have noticed that I changed the title of this blog from METAPHYSICAL FORCES IN FLUX: WHAT ON EARTH IS HAPPENING? I realized I didn't know didly-squat about "metaphysical forces," much less "metaphysical forces in flux." Dare I say it was more of a "mindflux" primarily upon myself? "Too much irony makes one overwrought." (That being my own quote). So I had to come up with something else that I know nothing about, but may perhaps be less pretentious. As I see it, the new title may be "big", yes, but more of an open challenge to be held and taken on in various ways. I do believe that life is a journey of self-understanding, or at least, of learning what is. This may sound awfully simplistic but I am not so simple, nor do I believe is anyone who may read this.

I write this blog as a possible service to anyone who might seek to understand themselves and/or life itself. The blog is more my "process" of self-understanding or "seeing through myself" than anything else. I have written every day in a journal for many years as something akin to zazen-in-print in addition to sitting at times. There are very, very few readers of this blog, but this is how it is and if someone benefits, I am pleased that I "helped" someone perhaps to approach themselves in some good way. So this blog is my particular connection, worded as it may be, with humanity. I actually have much to say and have said a few things in the past. When I happen to see my older writings, I wonder who wrote them, knowing that I cannot possibly articulate anything that well. Heart speaks clearly; thought obscures.

A NEW LEAF

Life happens, so it is said. It passes; we pass with it. We believe we're "taking it as it is" until it changes abruptly. Only then do we realize that we had no idea "how it is." Only then do we realize how uncertain life is, how uncertain even we are. We believe we "know ourselves," know "who we are," "how we are." But then something happens and we find that we actually know very little, much less "who we are." At such times we may come to a point at which we make conscious choices about "doing what is called for in the moment," or we may just "do it" seemingly instinctively because it is what "must be done." But this generally only happens after we are first devastated by reality, by "what is." Some stay devastated; others get through it. One must certainly "get over oneself" if they are to get through it. But to "get over oneself," one must "get under oneself," which is to say, be able to "see through oneself," to understand how one is, how one lives in a false world of his or her own making.

We are not what we think we are, how we think we are. Rather, we are as we actually are. There is always more to us. We are every step of the journey we take in life, from beginning to end. We are the next step we take. We unfold, unwrinkle, unravel. There is no magic, no miracle, no god, no "way"; there is ourselves. There is what is. But "what is" is not static or defined and is as flowing water. And how can one possibly  "know" flowing water? One cannot. We can only become as flowing water ourselves. Does flowing water "know itself"? I don't think so; it can only be itself, even though it has no solid form, no "self" as such, but only an appearance of self, of form. I think this is how it is, how we "are." Why do I think that? Because I know there is the wind blowing the trees outside my windown and I cannot see it but know it is present as it is. Because I know the ocean, just a mile away, undulates, ebbs, and flows; I can hear the crashing surf as well. Sometimes I am very aware that I am alive within this aging flesh and making motions through this body, knowing it is temporary, an important phase, holding many clues from which something is to be learned, gleaned, realized, applied. 

My focus, my thoughts, for most of my life, have been as they are now. I watch leaves fall from trees now with much the same wonder as I did as a baby from my carriage. This is "seeing yourself through." But to be able to wonder as a child wonders is to allow oneself to be devastated by reality, by what is. For all we do is constantly and perpetually build up a version of being in the world that insulates us enough that we can live with it. There are always "final straws" that break our backs, as it were, but after picking up the pieces, we reestablish and rebuild our "self-realities" once again that we might once again be "functional" in a dysfunctional existence. None of this is "good" or "bad"; it is just the way it is, until, of course, it isn't. I would love to digress into wonderfully poetic metaphors but will restrain myself.