June 30, 2020

Flight to Tel Aviv: I have been reading Sapiens, and reached almost the of the book now. I have just finished reading his discussion of happiness; in which he writes particularly of the Buddhist understanding of the concept. It is close to the one I find in Yoga philosophy, though I would phrase it differently. I think that happiness is the state normally found when consciousness rests in the present moment and is not in a condition of resistance to it. In other words, the mind is at peace. In a moment that we are caught off-guard by beauty, such as when one opens the curtains to behold a golden sunrise, the mind is “enraptured”, if only for a moment, perhaps. Something comes between our thoughts of the past, our memories, regrets; and our plans hopes and desires for the future, so that we know peace, for a fleeting moment.

Similarly, when we satisfy a desire or fulfill a dream, we touch on our peace by being focused on the pleasure, rather than thinking of the past or the future. Conversely, if the present moment is full of pain, and we resist the pain, we amplify it. But if, on the other hand, we are able to feel pain but also accept it, then we can still be at peace. Buddhists would say that we should simply observe the comings and goings of painful and pleasurable thoughts. The issue I have with this is that it then becomes a mental process, and is based on the division of subject and object. But here there is a problem. Except through an analytical process, it is not possible to achieve true equanimity while there is this rational discrimination.

July 1, 2020

Well, it is subtle. I’m not sure that the Buddhist attitude is so different. There is a slight difference in attitude between saying that the self (or anything) is “empty of a separate existence” and saying that “the (individual) self (atman) is the self of everything (brahman)”. My axe to grind is that our observation is flawed, because it fails to take into account that there is a substratum in which the existence of one “thing” is the existence of the whole, so that the objects or separate selves are only superficially separate. And so our observation of the universe is flawed at the most fundamental level: it does not take into account the most important factor. So even Sapiens, as a book, though it speaks of our speciesism and our failure to take into account the environmental concerns, does not see as a basic truth that it is simply impossible not to take into account the connection between the self and the other.

It is not exactly that the self (me) and the table are “connected” or (heaven forbid) one and the same, but that we share a common basis, a common existence, that gives “life” to both of us. The table is “illusory”, so long as I do not take into account the observational fallacy and the underlying common existence; because otherwise what I see is only part of the truth, and part of the truth equals a total lie. Not practically, because I am in fact using the table in order to rest this notebook on and write these words, but philosophically, existentially. Existentially, it changes everything: my stance, my attitute, but also, something much more fundamental and beyond our subjectivity. It is the way in which the universe functions. A universe of separate objects would never actually work, could not exist.

Harari speaks, for example, of the absence of an intelligent designer.He speaks of a lack of purpose behind the universe. This is inaccurate. There is no designer who stands outside of it – that’s true, but there is, absolutely, intelligence and good design in the universe. The universe is a manifestation of intelligence. A human who tries to design a better variety of corn, or an automobile, will fail miserably if he is unable to take into account the natural “laws” of physics, chemistry, or biology, which are his palette. And, anyway, to the extent that he fails to take into account the full environmental impact of his “creation”, he will cast a fly in the ointment, a spanner in the works, of the total design.

Harari is right that environmental “destruction” is a misnomer. It is actually “change”, but, in so far as this species is concerned, destruction of the biosphere will be the end of the road. Some other species may come along, perhaps, to take our place, and the place of countless other species that we have made extinct. Or not. The real universe, that which exists behind this one, is like a child’s magnetic toy that constantly recombines in new ways. You knock down the cathedral you have so carefully constructed, and the pieces recombine to make a spaceship. Nothing is destroyed, but conditions are changed. Does it matter? It matters greatly to homo sapiens. The species can only function within a certain habitat.

Our failure is in not understanding how to coexist within our habitat in a sustainable way. We don’t have to worry about the universe not being able to put right any mistakes that we make. It will, but not necessarily in a way that is favourable to our species. Since, despite our bluster and self-importance, the universe will go on anyway without us. Not entirely without us, because we will continue. Just not in a form that is recognisable to us.

The question is whether or not our progress towards self-destruction (or change) is inevitable? It may be inevitable according to our nature as human beings. But Harari points out that civilization is cultural. The culture can be changed. The energies that drive us can be harnessed in completely different ways. We can change the way in which we live on the planet if we want to, so the apocalpyse is not inevitable.

June 27

Finishing up my time here in the US. I think I will miss the quietude of being at home alone, and will not enjoy the bustle of being in a full household again. Coronavirus cases are sky-rocketing in Israel again, so I won’t want to go out even after the period of home-isolation. I think I just want to live the rest of my life in quiet places; Neve Shalom or Auroville. There isn’t much on offer outside of solitude. It’s true that I need to keep my body more active, so that it doesn’t grow weak and inflexible, but there are solutions for that.

I’m also finishing Sapiens, which is consistantly interesting.

Yesterday I spent the afternoon with Andrew, and in the evening he spoke extensively about our parents and opened up about his grief […]

I’m coming to understand how much we are not just free actors but are also products of what we ingest. In order to be free, we need to be able to break free of our addictions. They are deadly, or deadening. Culture, too, is a word that carries more meaning that that to which we ascribe to it. My parents were terribly trapped by their culture. My mother, particularly, had all the characteristics of a person who is continually trying to escape humble origins. She had internalized Britain’s caste system, grown up in poor conditions, not received a complete education, and spent the rest of her life trying to live like role models who were probably from the film world, or at least a “well-to-do” person. Yet she felt completely insecure, could never settle in a place happily. Both my parents tried to escape their origins and yet constantly harked back to them, in a kind of love-hate relationship.

In some ways, I perhaps acquired some of the same traits, in that I too feel that I don’t belong in the country-mentality of the place where I live. Yet with me, it is not that I secretly long to be in a “home country” because I don’t really have one. I’m pretty much my own person – no doubt a product of various conditioning, like everyone, but my national identity is cosmopolitan I don’t feel that I belong to a certain nature or place of origin. My attitude is also “exclusive”, since I feel critical of the mainstream secular culture from a “spiritual” point of view, and critical of religions and cults from a secular point of view. I don’t really want much to do wiht the world.

Popular culture of our era is a turn-off. I tried watching another American TV series on Netflix but decided again that it was too much for me – too extreme, too disgusting, I suppose. There’s a certain I don’t know what about our contemporary culture. Perhaps the producers of fiction make too many assumptions about what readers or viewers will like. The best way to avoid nasty surprises is just not to consume popular culture. Yogis always advise against it anyway. This is something that I already know, so I should just internalize it.

[…]

I hear trains only at night, when it’s quiet, though the railroad seems to be quite near. The terrain here is flat, so there is no sound from the nearby busy main road as such, as in Neve Shalom. But sounds there are , certainly, more as a distant rumble; sometimes of planes. Sitting outside with Andrew a coupled of nights ago, he embarked on a sort of running commentary of the varioius sounds he could hear; about 70% of which were unheard by me, yet he showed his skill in being able to identify them; the kind of engine belonging to the kind of place, etc.

[…]

Registering auditory or visual impressions in this way is not what I was referring to when I wrote that we need to bring the full physical and historical context into our awareness in order that the consciousness of the moment will achieve depth. But it is the opposite of Arjuna’s “I only see the bird”. I suppose it’s a matter of attitude, of appreciation and empathy. Each passing train, plane, June bug or fox is also Narayanaya. We are in this cosmos together and the Lord is in each of us.

Dealing with others

I knew two persons in the Sivananda Centers, perhaps more, who related to others quite differently to most people I have known.

They related to other human beings with an unusual manner of superiority. They were aware that they were wiser than others, because they were more practiced and had attainments on the spiritual path. In the case of Swami S., this may have been delusional. In the case of Swami B., there was greater surety, perhaps due to his age; there was also more honesty, and even a kind of humility. His attitude also towards Swami S. was one of confident superiority. Swami B. had the assurance, and the feeling of responsibility that goes with being a teacher; specifically, a spiritual teacher.

I have always admired such confidence, but at no stage have had any inclination to emulate it.

There are other kinds of superiority that humans adopt; usually from privilege of some form. The attitude of spiritual superiority is different, though it can also be accompanied by the other kind, due to a person’s background. Many teachers happen to be Brahmins, upper class, academically qualified, etc.

And there is that other kind of superiority that manifests itself from not wanting anything that the world has to offer, and similarly being indifferent towards the consequences of one’s actions. There is the famous example of Diogenes and his meeting with Alexander. (On being asked by the emperor if there was anything that he might do for him, Diogenes hesitated and said there was indeed one thing, that Alexander would move a little to the side, so as not to deprive him of the warmth of the sun’s rays.) And there is the story of the martyrdom of Sarmad, who could not recite the full kalima even to save his own life.

If there is any kind of confident superiority that I would aspire to, it is the latter kind, since it is the cultivation of a kind of confidence that becomes unshakeable, making one indifferent towards whatever the world can throw. It is also the most attainable; it does not depend upon any material worth, learning, or any other form of privilege. It requires only that one remains confident of the way, come what may. It depends upon not contending, not promoting oneself; treating everyone with respect and no one with any special respect on account of position, influence or status. One can keep one’s own council and act with equanimity in the face of praise and blame, favorable circumstances or adversity.

All this is Vasudeva.

June 24, 2020

I was reading in the Guardian a story about failed art restorations; a statue of the Virgin Mary and baby Jesus, in which the infant was restored to a kind of monkey; a similar painting of Christ in which he comes out looking like a plump gremlin; and finally a tower in Istanbul that, according to social media, resembles a giant Sponge Bob. I actually don’t know about the character of Sponge Bob, but this had me doubling over in laughter anyway.

It is hard to know what triggers laughter, but it normally leaves its influence for some time. The world seems like a less serious place for awhile, and one is convinced that this too is the nature of reality, or a legitimate aspect of it.

Then I went back to reading Yuval Noah Harari, in the chapter that he mentions that anaesthetics were discovered only in the mid 19th century, and that battle wounds to limbs were normally treated by amputation, in order to prevent the onset of gangrene. The part was simply lopped or sawed off, while four soldiers held the patient down. The majority of people died by age 25 – 40, if they managed to survive childbirth or their first year.

It is interesting, the question of suffering, and pain. In such a world of pain, physical and emotional, Buddha came along and said that suffering results from craving or desire. I wonder that people had time to suffer from desire, when they were so busy burying their dead children, or themselves suffering from horrible incurable diseases. It seems almost a luxury to be worried about something beyond the existential problems that they already had, and one can believe that someone born into such a world would learn to be resilient almost as a matter of course. Was it because Buddha was born a prince that he considered the problem of suffering as he did? – today it seems almost modern. We are shielded from pain, have solutions to diseases, live long lives, don’t have to worry much about hunger; and yet we continue to suffer. It seems as if the Buddha is speaking directly to our modern problem, in our world of comparative luxury. And yet, as a religion, Buddhism took hold, and swept through Asia, so it evidently did speak to the people who lived 2,500 years ago. It means that though people did face so much pain, and even saw it as inevitable, it was still hard for them to accept it. They still grieved their loved ones as we do and hankered for a better life; they still found it difficult to live in the moment without dwelling on the future or the past. And evidently this was true both for princes and for paupers.

June 23, 2020

What I have to admit, from the beginning, is that I know nothing, and yet I know too much. I know nothing, on the basis that I’m poorly read. I have read neither Das Kapital nor Mein Kampf, and little of the great western philosophers. But also because the state of our knowledge, in the first quarter of the 21st century, is also very poor, compared to what it will be fifty or a hundred years later. On the basis of what we knew, in the 20th century, we have committed terrible errors and vicious crimes against humanity. On the basis of what we currently know, it is clear that we are destroying our biosphere.

I know too much because my knowledge interferes with my ability to see the world afresh. I have adopted biases that determine how I relate to my world. The prejudices that we acquire are far ranging and pervasive. Knowing this is not necessarily the answer to the problem. Sometimes knowing more can expose one to different ideas that can knock down our suppositions. A person with a narrow grasp of the underlying philosphical bases behind the mechanisms that drive our society is less likely to question them than a scientist who knows them better. Knowledge can be dislodged or challenged by new knowledge. On the grand scale of things this is what happens.

Either are in the playing field or the market of ideas, or one attempts gradually to deconstruct what one thinks one knows, without taking the route of adding new knowledge to challenge the old knowledge. These are opposite tracks. My tendency is towards the former, reduction by reduction, rather than through accumulation. But it is a path where one must forever be admitting one’s own weaknesses and deficiencies; a path of humility and humiliation. A Taoist path.

Yesterday Ilan sent in an article that debates the matter of what constitutes truth in an era of fake news; he looked at the matter of truth through the prism of various historical thinkers, eventually concluding before a matter can be admitted as truth, it must be open to wide discussion, that no authority could have the ultimate say. Instead the truth of a matter would be determined after being debated by the best minds. In such a process, my opinion counts for very little. I cannot “compete” in an arena where the qualifications depend on knowing the history of philosophical thinking and I would not contest the opinions of others in such an arena. It is true that I know a fair bit about the philosophical thinking of Eastern philosophical systems, perhaps, but there too I do not think it is worthwhile to contend. The area that is more interesting is that of learning and knowing from observation; discovering through silent communion with the universe, meditation. I have always thought that the keys to understanding are there to be discovered directly and must not depend upon academic learning. There are scriptures and holy books that claim to hold the keys to salvation and enlightenment. There are philosophers who have pursued truth through reason. There are scientists who have tried to discover the physical laws upon which our universe is constructed. All of these have their value and their place in our human civilization. But, without much basis other than belief or intuition, I continue to hold that the truth of our existence is there to be discovered by every denizen of the cosmos directly, without recourse to scripture, philosophy or science. Not every kind of knowledge, of course, but the particular knowledge of the identity of the self in relation to the universal. I think that the basis of this belief is present in the scriptures themselves. And it does not contradict reason. It cannot be negated by science, as far as I know.

This thinking is very democratic, because it extends the possibility to every one of us to understand, independently, our position in the universe, if we put into it enough effort. It only depends on our willingness to give all we have to the project, and not be afraid.

The knowledge of the self in relation to the cosmos, the nature of the self, our true identity, the nature of the other, the meaning of our lives, the inner purpose and the relation of this purpose to that of the universe, the act of observation, what constitutes happiness, the reason for our restlessness, the ability to confront and understand suffering, the movement of thoughts, moods, desires, attraction and repulsion, emotion, indifference, and the relation and mutual influence between our minds and our bodies, the ways in which we affect the world and interact with it and with others; our dreams and the subconscious, the obvious and the latent, the sources of our inspiration and energy, the ability to tap into the energy of the universe; the question of our mortality, the observation of time and its subjective velocity; the nature of experience, the various states of consciousness, the integrity of our knowledge or its partiality, the understanding of what is truly important and what is of less importance, the question of what is real and what illusion; the question of self-mastery or subservience to basic instincts, the question of belief in God or the supernatural, the matter of empathy, the ways in which egoism manifests, our aesthetic sense, the ways in which we lie to ourselves; attachments, the nature of peace, and many more questions, qualities, understandings, are all matters that we can resolve for ourselves without any necessity to go to a book or consult with a teacher. They are matters that can be understood through direct experience, aparoksha anubhuti.

Naming, shaming

Owen Jones, in the Guardian says: “History is not being erased by those seeking to topple the statues of slavers and murderous white supremacists; it is being remembered. That is the real sin as far as the protesters’ detractors are concerned. They understandably fear what will happen if historical atrocities committed by the British state enter wider public consciousness.”

Jones says that bringing attention to the statues is giving us all a history lesson. I think that is true. But what will happen in a few years, when all these statues of people who perpetrated attrocities and held despicable opinions are gone? Memories fade quickly. I think a better idea might be to leave the statues, but place descriptive plaques, describing their personage’s wrongdoing, as markers of shame for the generations.

Yet it’s true that statues are usually (solely?) erected to honor, rather than dishonor. In India, a statue is a murthi (an idol) and is there to be worshipped.

So one could go a step further and replace those statues with new ones of heroes murthosizing opposite values. The description on the plinth would mention the previous occupant, and why he’d been evicted in favour of the new owner.