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[Sep. 7th, 2008|10:02 pm] |
This one might be a little on the short side...depends on how much I roll into as I write. We'll see.
I was lying in my bed the other night, letting my mind wander as I often do while waiting for sleep to take its eventual hold upon my consciousness--it usually takes me quite a while, which we in the health biz call "high sleep latency". Somehow I ended up thinking about consciousness itself--don't ask me how; like I said, it was a wandering of sorts, and backtracking usually isn't an option.
And then I realized something--how I see the world...it's the exact same as anyone else. And I don't mean in terms of worldview, because clearly, that aspect of it is widely variable from person to person. But at the core of it, we all have this thing called consciousness, called being aware. We have this sense of existence, a sense of presence in the world. It's an undeniable thing--to be able to say anything at all, to be able to speak of oneself as "I" demands there be a notion in the speaker's mind that he or she is a discrete entity, unique from other things and somehow separate, even though immersed within the fabric of the universe.
We see, at a level so deep we generally don't even consciously think of it, let alone question it, the universe as a duality of self and non-self, with additional categories dividing up each major group. But consider this: we are the non-self of all other selves on the planet. To everyone else, we're just a part of the scenery--albeit a more interactive, and perhaps interesting, part.
This offers two possibilities: there really are discrete selves of some sort, and we are all sharing in the same universe, or there isn't really a persistent universe in which we are immersed, and the other people we see are either separated from us (to a degree) or illusionary. The latter option is just plain weird, and Descartes' famous "I think therefore I am" dissertation went on to refute it in a philosophical (albeit theologically so) fashion. The former seems the most reasonable to us (assuming, of course, that all of you exist! *wink*), since it's hard to imagine being the only being alive in a universe, whatever sort of universe it is.
But here's a thought that will "really cook your noodle," in the words of the Oracle from the Matrix series: how can we know that there is any more than one self, living each one of our lives, with at least the illusion (if not perhaps the fact) of non-simultaneity in doing so? It seems to me that there is no purely rational way to do so, though it might be said that the concept of the self is one that cannot be logically argued, as it is heard for there to be an argument if there is no self to support it, nor any other self to oppose it.
I'm not about to say that you should start thinking that you're every person on the planet, one at a time, but I would like you to consider the thought, simply for what it is. This can change the way we see the world--if we consider each interaction as another encounter with ourselves, we suddenly start to see others as more worthy of our time, care, and respect. We cannot get away with being selfish, snobby, or aloof. It encourages a sense of responsibility in interaction. We suddenly are reminded of how each of is is merely a human--nothing more, nothing less, and certainly of no inequality of worth with any of our fellow men and women.
I realize all of this probably sounds a little hippie. I apologize if you find it off-putting. All the same, for philosophy's sake, earnestly consider the concept, suspending judgment if you can, and view it for what it is.
My best wishes go with you as you learn to see humanity through eyes of equality and humility. |
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| Sunday Meditation 8/31/08 |
[Aug. 31st, 2008|10:40 pm] |
Ignore last month's title heading; for some reason I kept thinking July was the 8th month. Go figure.
Today's entry is likely to be a bit shorter than the others, but that's alright--I've a few things on my mind and it's making it a little trickier than usual to squeeze meaningful bits out of it.
We hold that we are the product of a creator deity--and, depending on your tradition, perhaps that we were made in the image of that deity, as well. This means that we have and are, in many ways, much of the same things as our creator, but on a more diminutive, constrained scale.
We have many things in common with the divine that are often not attributed to other forms of life on earth--histories of our kind, reason, imagination, aspiration, moral senses, and so on. To me, these are some of the most important things we have--things we should never neglect, because if we do, we become that much more like any other form of life on this planet: increasingly concerned with merely getting by, surviving, perhaps passing on one's genes living to live before dying, perhaps garnering some success along the way.
There are, of course, other elements of life to savor and embrace that seem common to many other forms of life--for example, the ability to love. Psychologists will tell us that the behaviour of our pets is learned and is based upon the provider-recipient relationship, having nothing to do with volitional affection whatsoever--but take any devoted pet owner and ask him or her if his pet of many years can love, and you'll almost unequivocally get a positive answer (even if perhaps it's qualified).
Today, however, I wish to speak on a specific one that seems confined to humans--namely, creativity. This is not to be confused with simple innovation--trial and error, problem-solving, learning, and the like. Rather, this is sheer, unbridled manufacture of things that do not yet exist, perhaps may never exist, and do not necessarily serve any "pragmatic" purpose. Sociologists will often tell us that such traditions maintain group cohesion and are necessary, but so are simpler things, like affection and simple group activities, which can often accomplish other things at the same time.
We have in ourselves what some call "the divine spark"--the ability to take a thought and give it life in our imaginations, letting it grow and spread and become something grandiose and spectacular, even if perhaps we're the only ones who will ever see it. But it needn't stop there, oh no--we can then take that created thought and express it in whatever media we can muster, be it spoken word, written text, drawn or manipulated image, physical movement, sculpture of minerals--all manner of options are available to give further life to our little children of inspiration.
In short, we can take something that didn't exist and make it into a concept that others can then perceive and give space to as well, spreading that thought amongst the corner of the universe consigned to our curious little race. It's nothing so unfathomable as bringing an entire cosmos into being with a handful of words, but when you consider that we have very little might at all compared to the divine, this shouldn't be especially surprising. It's still something of a miracle at all that we can communicate what we need--let alone whatever we wish.
Creating things is but one way that we can embrace the gifts created as part of our selves, and I highly encourage it. Take some time to let your imagination run free, and find a way to create a lasting record of what your imagination spawns. It can be anything--a recording of your voice, a story, music, a sculpture--anything you like, but ensure that it's something you can look up again later, or even perhaps share with others at another time. The simple act of adding a slight permanence to the fruit of your divinely-given creativity can serve as a potent reminder of the miraculous nature of such gifts. After that, consider taking your record and discussing it with a friend, and encourage him or her to do the same for you. You might come up with a neat new tradition for the two of you, bringing you that much closer together!
Best of all, feeding your creativity in certain ways can have effects elsewhere in life--helping you come up with spontaneous new solutions to trying times or situations, and helping sponsor a flexibility and unconstrained method of thinking that will serve you well by giving you adaptability where others may freeze up or lose motivation. Try not to underestimate this easily-overlooked benefit!
My best wishes go with you as you strive to use all of your divine gifts to the fullest--and for now, your creativity in particular. |
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| Sunday Meditation 8/20/08 |
[Jul. 20th, 2008|09:22 am] |
Today's meditation was meant to be written up the weekend following the 4th of July, for reasons you shall likely figure out soon; as you can see, that didn't exactly happen.
Independence is something that our culture has long cherished and paid homage to--at least in voice. We like to say that our country depends on no other, that we are all people with freedom, and so on.
The problem, in our society, is that we are not, in fact, independent, and for better or for worse, never will be. On top of that, many of us have dependencies that are, as they say in human sciences, "maladaptive."
Here is a fundamental truth of life in our increasingly global world: unless you're willing to shell out possibly exorbitant sums of money and lots of time to buy purely "made in the USA" products, you'll be depending upon goods and services from elsewhere. Let's face it: differing standards in other parts of the world make labor cheaper (despite the risk of human rights violations that may result), and thus the goods that come from there will accordingly come at a lower cost. We all like to get the most out of our money, so we go for the cheap products. And again, there's nothing inherently wrong with wanting to get the most out of our money, as our money is a placeholder for our time of labor, and using it wisely is a wise thing to do. But the point is that our country depends on the rest of the world a lot--possibly more than they depend upon us, despite the way in which our country has a huge amount of clout to wield to help sway things in one way or another elsewhere. (And I mean this in terms of war-less options; the war itself is something I won't be touching on more today.)
But that is not in itself a bad thing, really; the key is to remember that we are not so magically crafted and vigorously stout that we do not need other countries to subsist. In reality, we do; without the rest of the world, many of us would not be able to afford to live here. In that alone, do not be deluded.
That's not the main point of this meditation, however--the intent is to address that of individual dependencies--what one might call "addiction" for some. But addiction is such a harsh word, and no one likes to be called such a thing (for it generally immediately conjures images of an illicit drug user shooting up in a shady bar or alley), so we use "dependencies" instead--not because it's politically correct, necessarily, but because it at least hurts fewer feelings and is more likely to be heard.
We all have things that we depend upon; to say otherwise is to lie. We all depend upon food and air and the other basic human necessities. There is nothing wrong with this: without them, we cannot live. We all depend upon the love and affection of others, which helps make life bearable, even if perhaps we could live without it (though I doubt many would want to continue living after a while without it). And we all depend upon things that are a product of being mildly affluent--electrical power, heated, drinkable water on demand, and so on. These are alright: they give our lives comforts that also benefit us in other ways.
But we all usually have other dependencies...ones that generally harm us as a being, if perhaps in ways that are hard to behold. Some depend upon romantic relationships, needing the intoxicating rush of feeling that comes with "being in love," and hurl themselves headlong at eligible bachelors of the suitable gender, only to be heartbroken again and again when the relationship ends as it becomes less mythical and more realistic. Some are dependent upon exploiting others, whether for material gain, such as money or belongings, or for immaterial gain, such as social standing and power. Such dependencies are dangerous in that they can bring down other people as well, and in the end often lead to more than one broken spirit.
Some dependencies are more innocuous-seeming--people who are dependent upon shopping, upon television, upon--yes, I'd say I'm guilty of this one--technology and the Internet. "But wait!" we say, "Those don't hurt anybody!" This is true to a point, but in many cases such dependencies cause us to be less "real" people, in that we conform to what figures in our chosen dependencies say we should be--images crafted largely to sell us things, so that the images can continue to be crafted from the profits. They know that we crave something from what they have to offer--be it a sense that we are improving ourselves, whether through appearance or other means, or perhaps a substitute interaction that makes us feel less alone in a world seemingly full of people who don't understand us and bring us pain--and they strive to keep us in that state, dependent upon them anon.
This is not to exclude actual chemical dependencies, whether they be alcohol, injectable illicit drugs, marijuana, tobacco, or even abuses of prescription drugs intended for purposes quite different than those for which they are actually being used. These are grievous, as they certainly break down the body, and often the mind and spirit with them. If you use one of these often, or find it hard to experience certain emotions without them, please, seek help in ending such dependencies. They do no one who cares about you any good.
Even food can become a maladaptive dependency--primarily in the case of eating disorders. It remains to be stressed that eating food is something all humans must do to continue living, but when eating food becomes a coping method rather than sustenance, a hazard is present.
I state all of this because we as people should be looking at our dependencies carefully. We should be dependent upon the divine, certainly, and in a sense we all are whether we know it or not, but despite this we should be looking at the divine as a friend and provider--someone worth depending upon. At the same time, we are empowered by the divine, meaning that we are not intended to be frail waifs awaiting the hand of the Almighty to move us out of our comfort zones like some kind of pet owner in the sky. A balance here is necessary.
So here's what you can do: sit down for a moment and take stock of the things you feel you can't really live (or live well) without. Don't be facetious, and don't be sparing, either--list everything you can think of and leave nothing out when you first make your list. Then go through them and consider why and how that dependency has resulted--look at what it does for you, and what you must do to follow it. Then size up those reasons and determine which things are, realistically, not actually helping you. You might be surprised at how obvious some of them are when you consciously examine them!
With your list in hand, decide what dependencies you want to change, and how. In many cases, doing your best to reduce them to a hobby or less is the right choice, but in some cases different tacks may be necessary. Use your best judgment, and ask for guidance. Then, ask for strength and motivation to change what you know needs changing. Get your friends involved, too, if you can: being accountable to people you will actually meet helps you make the changes you seek to get done.
Do this again in a month: 30 days is time enough for a lot of habit-changing! Take stock of the genuine progress you've made--along with accurately representing any shortcomings. Continue to plan, continue to change, and soon you'll find yourself with a better and perhaps more sleek profile of worthwhile and non-harmful (to self or others) dependencies.
My best wishes go with you as you determine your own dependencies and craft ways to change them with the help of the divine and those around you. |
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| Sunday Meditation 6/8/08 |
[Jun. 8th, 2008|09:51 am] |
Today's topic is one I settled on while doing some reading in Psalms.
Today's world is one of extreme haste. We run our schedules very precisely, fitting as much as we possibly can into one day with regimented time intervals allotted to plentiful activities. We try to fit work and education and social activities and entertainment all into each day--and we wonder why we always feel tired!
Truth is, we were never meant to be so hectic. Emotional and physical health start to break down as we continue to heap intended accomplishments onto our plates. In fact, with such a revelation in mind, it doesn't surprise me one bit that the prevalence of depression is so high. Any one of us can probably attest to a time when we were stressed for a while, and then as soon as the stressor was removed, we came down with a cold or a flu or some other ailment.
This kind of delayed response is common. When the body is in high alert, immune functions and other systems run at an artificially-high level. When the stress that causes this is removed, the body's systems lapse into a lower-than-usual state to recover from the physiological stress imposed on them from the events that came before. This creates physiological deficiencies, such as the lower immune function that creates a vulnerability to common illnesses.
The "simplest" solution is to simply simplify, as mentioned in a previous meditation, but in some cases this option isn't especially workable, whether in the short or long runs. Regardless of whether you can simplify what you're doing and attempting to do, one thing you can do to help in life is to work on incorporating periods of what I call "purposeful stillness" into your daily routines.
This can take a number of forms. The most common, arguably, is that of meditation. Many disciplines of meditation exist, and they are, again arguably, equally effective at achieving a state of stillness. However, other exercises, such as progressive relaxation, also work. On the other hand, I don't mean that you should simply try to push everything out of your mind and achieve a state of vegetation. This is hard to do and more often leads to frustration than success, so don't start there. You may gradually develop your capacity to engage stillness to where this becomes a natural occurrence, which is quite fine, but attempting to forcibly empty the mind rarely works for those new to calming the mind and body.
You may be wondering why in the world stillness is something you'd want to have. I'd posit two main reasons, the first being that of a sort of de-stressing measure. Our current world milieu constantly deluges us with input--sounds, sights, even smells and tastes sometimes. This incessant cavalcade only adds to the overwhelming nature of the things we task ourselves with to do; sorting out important from unimportant takes more energy and brainpower than we often realize. Taking the time to set all that aside, if only for a little while, and let the brain stop and take a breather, is a worthwhile exercise that can have profound effects. (Indeed, studies have been done to show that even extremely generic forms of meditation and relaxation exercises can improve overall health and long-term well-being.)
The second, and the more difficult to prove of the two, is that of contact with the divine. Though we read often in faith literature of how God has contacted people strongly and clearly, we can all pretty much agree that we don't usually see incredible, irrefutable signs of divine action lately, do we? To me, this seems simply God's way of working with the unique structure of today's world--so now God is there in the details for those who seek him, rather than being some kind of divine juggernaut in an era full of gods of a military nature. By incorporating periods of stillness into our lives, I believe that we become more able to pick up the faint directions and urgings of the divine in our hearts, as they tend to be subtle in this era, rather than blatant or profoundly distinct.
Some also argue that such exercises cause one's vital energy to be calmed and placed into a healthier state of circulation. Whether or not this is the case is not something I will attempt to posit, but if such an issue is one that is of import to you, consider it.
Another possibility is that placing ourselves better in tune with our own states of consciousness will allow us a more "in-gear" ability to perceive and react to the world around us, rather than going robotically through actions and not thinking at all about what we're doing. This is another possibility that I cannot directly support, but I would suggest that the possibility still seems reasonable.
So, when you're deciding what you're going to do in a day, set aside some time to seek out some purposeful stillness. If you run a regimented schedule of your life and free time, make a block specifically allotted for this. If your schedule is more free-form, see to it that you include it. You might find, after several times, that it's really not doing you much good. If that happens, try a different method--various meditation and/or relaxation techniques work better or worse for different people. And be patient--like all new skills, only those with latent talent take to them extremely readily; in a world very anti-stillness, most people lack such skills and will need to develop them over time. It may sound weird that you'd need to work at something that helps you recover from work, but trust me on this one--it's worth it.
I'm not going to suggest that this is an easy habit to establish--heavens knows I don't do enough of it myself, even though I'm quite aware that I always feel better for doing it. But if you stick with it, I have a pretty strong feeling that you'll gain a lot from it as well--and I bet you'll feel better to boot.
My best wishes go with you as you seek to make your life more purposeful while including intervals to regroup and recharge. |
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| Sunday Meditation 5/11/08 |
[May. 11th, 2008|09:48 am] |
It's Mother's Day, everyone. Don't forget to say hi to mom today, if you can't visit her in person.
I saw something the other day that gave me pause, despite the fact that the situation I was in at the time was making me pause anyway.
I was sitting at a red light, waiting to make a turn, and pondering the fact that it felt like the longest red light in history, when in the corner of my vision I somehow noticed motion that was not related to cars.
I turned my head enough to give my eyes room to peer directly at whatever this might have been, just in time to see a young man, probably between 15 and 22 years of age, shove a panhandling, ostensibly homeless man, causing him to just sort of flop over sideways onto the grass next to the sidewalk (there was a gas station on that street corner, so it had a small landscaped patch for aesthetics' sake). The young man proceeded to wander across several lanes of stopped traffic adjacent him, then jaywalked again across the next half of the road, which cars were intermittently passing through after making a turn.
For a moment, things seemed to be in a sort of limbo stage. The homeless person remained flopped on the ground, unmoving. The cars in the intersection kept on with the dance of passage, mediated by the lights hanging above us all. I felt outraged that someone could do something like that, seemingly out of the blue; I highly doubted that the homeless man had done anything more grievous than possibly ask for change, and the angle at which he fell suggested that he wasn't even facing the young man who pushed him.
Then another remarkable thing happened: in the right-hand turn lane adjacent to that street corner, the passenger door of the car closest to the intersection opened up, and a young girl, perhaps in her early teens (though I tend to guess wrong more often on the ages of females than of males), got out and went over to the homeless man, bending down and making sure he was alright. Sure, he hadn't been knifed or anything, but homeless people are often in a state of unstable health, and even typical falls can lead to freak fractures of bones.
She stayed there for perhaps half a minute or so, which in the tense go-go-go environment of a traffic intersection, seemed quite remarkable. Evidently he was alright, for the most part; she returned to her car and got back in, and a few moments later, the homeless man edged up onto his arm, raising his torso but not yet getting back to his feet.
Not long after that (it felt like one of the longest red lights in history, but it had to end -some- time), it was my turn to go, and I heard emergency vehicle sirens approaching--perhaps someone had called 911 to make sure that the homeless man was evaluated by real medical professionals. I didn't get to see what eventually happened after that, as traffic waits for no one and to get over to that side of the road would have required at least two U-turns and a plentitude of lane changes. I assumed he'd be alright.
There were two events of note here: the first being the audacious act of aggression perpetrated by the young man. I doubt that any of you would push over a homeless person for almost any reason, unless made to feel directly threatened. However, if directly threatened, I highly doubt that any person would merely attempt to shove the assaulter over, all the same; we'd be more concerned with incapacitating him and then running as quickly as possible away, or just running immediately. The odds of such an assault occurring at a busy urbanized intersection are also extremely slim.
I can only surmise that this young man considered it some kind of entitlement, that is, that as a tax-paying American citizen with a roof over his head, he was entitled to abuse a homeless person, or that to him it was some kind of amusing feat that he might brag about to his friends later: "Hey, guess what? I knocked over a hobo today!" (I merely hope that "hobo tipping" is not emerging as an urban version of the redneck sport of cow tipping, despite how humorous that might sound.)
But as I stopped to think about that, I considered that maybe that wasn't so surprising. Much of our entertainment seems to condone behavior that serves to belittle others to make oneself feel more elevated, from music to movies to games. It may not always be homeless people, of course, but as an outcast from "normal" society, they are pigeonholed into a role of scapegoat, it seems. It used to be that we would direct our attempts at derision towards those outside normal society as a means to get them to reconcile their ways and rejoin the group, but now it seems that we use these attempts simply to derive a twisted form of pleasure and pride, because knocking over a homeless man isn't going to help him be rehabilitated any time soon--of that much I am sure.
The second event was the much more noble of the two--that of the young woman checking on the homeless man to make sure that he was not significantly harmed. Unlike the young man, she was in a position that would naturally feel more threatened by someone unknown like a panhandling man. Undoubtedly the thought occurred to her (or at least it did to me, at some point) that perhaps it was all a ruse to get people to pity the homeless man more and get them to offer him more money or other exploitations of confidence. But no, despite any reservations she might have had, she did the right thing and potentially risked her own safety by making sure he wasn't hurt.
This is one of the many reasons that, despite all of its incredible faults, I do not withdraw from the rest of society and become an ascetic. (I also don't like camping that much.) Even in the midst of terrible events, someone usually steps forward and inspires hope. I'm not about to say that our society is not currently headed in a negative direction--because on the whole, there is definitely a visible decline going on, even in light of all of the innovations our bright minds conjure so often. And I'm not about to say that we're likely to turn everything around and generate a human utopia--to do that would require somehow abolishing the base human traits of greed, pride, and selfishness, traits that I think are inextricably tied to the human experience.
But despite that, there remains hope that we can undo much of what has happened already, and turn the incredible human (and arguably divinely bestowed) capacity for resilience towards beneficial ends. It won't be easy, and, barring some incredible paradigm-shifting event, it won't happen any time particularly soon, but that doesn't mean we should just sit back and wait for it.
So here's my practical challenge for you: observe the flaws you see in society, then think of ways you could personally work to address them. If any of them are viably actionable, find ways to make them happen. Help bring hope to others not merely by wishing (though wishing can't hurt), but by doing. Where you see something wrong that anyone can fix, correct it rather than assuming someone else will. Others may not compliment you for it, and the possibility exists that no person will even see you do it--but the effects of what we do for good can never fully be predicted; had you not taken that action, you might easily change for the worse what someone else might do or see later.
My best wishes go with you as you seek to inspire hope in others and always do the best you can for all of us on this earth. |
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| Sunday Meditation 4/13/08 |
[Apr. 13th, 2008|10:13 am] |
This morning's passage was from Psalms.
A classmate of mine had a baby shower yesterday, and though I didn't go (there's too much estrogen at baby showers, the 75% female composition of our class notwithstanding), I found myself pondering some things about new life coming into the world, and reflecting on the nature of life.
There are indeed passages in the Bible (and presumably other texts of faith wisdom) that reflect negatively on birth, decrying the pain and anguish that life can (and often does) bring. They claim that sometimes it would have been better that the children had not been born at all, that their mothers would not have been agonized by their birth and that the infants would not have to suffer.
It is always dangerous, however, to remove context from the equation. Yes, it is true that pain and suffering are not a pleasant part of life--but do they outbalance the parts of life that are good? The knee-jerk response is "No, life is always worth living." That is, simply by life being life, it is inherently worth living, no matter how much suffering there is involved. I, however, take a different tack on the matter--perhaps you'll agree with me.
As all of you are undoubtedly aware, we live in a fallen world--things break, things wear down, people are greedy and don't get along. We see (and often feel) the repercussions of this fact every day. I'm not going to go into deep discussions of theodicy here, but I'm going to contest that this is, in fact, a desirable trait.
"What?" you say. "Are you trying to tell me that a broken world is a good thing?" To which I will say, yes, and also no; like most things related to life, it is a mixed blessing. It is not simply that faults are good and we should leave it at that; on the contrary, we don't like dealing with problems because they take some of our limited (although where the limits lie are unknown to us) time on this earth in dealing with them, and place into our awarenesses unpleasant emotions that seem to degrade the quality of our time spent.
But this perhaps provokes the question--assuming that we have a benevolent deity who created our world, what purpose would such an inclusion--whether specified or simply allowed--serve? And the answer, at least in part (and in my own opinion, admittedly), is that this suffering is necessary. Let's assume for a moment that we, as beings, only come to earth for a reason, whether it's de novo or in a chain of lives. Why in the world would we, assuming we had anything resembling a choice, want to be here? I posit that the world serves as something of a crucible to refine our existence, to give us breadth and depth, rather than allowing us to simply exist as untroubled beings. Think for a minute about what the world would be like if things were perfect. There would be nothing to need, nothing to earn, nothing to complain about, either no wisdom or no need to seek it (because we'd either have and need none or have all and thus need none)--simply life. It would be so boring! We would have nothing to gain from it--we'd simply be untroubled, even presences, consciousnesses floating placidly in a sea of unchange. We'd have almost nothing to do and would see no particular needs.
It is suffering and discord, then, that not only add variety to life, but help inspire us to seek out the divine. If we had all we needed it would be all too easy to simply shine on the being responsible for giving it to us (assuming we were aware of its existence in the first place), and thus we would find it easier to simply disregard such a figure and do things our own way. It is through unpleasant things that we are driven to find deeper meaning as a means of relating and coping, in addition to any other benefits it may bring, and the universality of this suffering means that we are all given suitable opportunity.
An author once quoted another (and I will continue the chain now) in saying "There are cracks, cracks in everything--that's how the light gets in." I could scarcely agree more.
My best wishes go with you as you seek to find the inner promptings and wisdom that can be gleaned from the more difficult happenings in your life. |
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| Sunday Meditation 2/24/08 |
[Feb. 24th, 2008|12:07 pm] |
My morning passage today was (ostensibly randomly) from Proverbs, and a recurrent theme in that book is the inspiration for today's meditation. I hope that you find inspiration in it.
Why is it, do you think, that the notion of ethics is one relevant to the human species? The typical knee-jerk response is that of "Well, society would fall apart if everyone acted solely in their own interests," and that leads to discussion of how all altruism is supposedly veiled self-interest, and so on. But then, with a bit more thinking, sometimes people will instead appeal to an inborn tendency towards the topic, whether instilled by a divine entity or somehow simply intrinsic to the human instincts. Other viewpoints might support the notion that ethics is a means of allowing us to criticize those whose power over us, gained by means that override our say-so, does not please us. Alternatively, ethics can be seen as a more rational process that allows us to make semi-objective blanket judgements on certain decisions in light of certain circumstances, and accordingly have something to impose upon people via law or societal norm.
Regardless of the reason(s) that we have ethics, it remains quite indisputable that humans have something of an instinctive tendency towards at least being aware of what good and evil are, despite often times not acting with much consideration towards either end. We have a definite fascination with it--for example, shows about people breaking laws or defying societal expectations are generally much more popular than those dealing with completely law-abiding citizens--and yet we give it little conscious thought unless we have been wronged. Why is this?
To unravel the reasoning is a topic for another time; it would entail massive hypothetical discussions on human nature, which, while I would find them to be stimulating, would probably bore most of you to tears, since I have odd interests like that. Instead, I'd like to draw our focus to the practices which humanity adopts to help ensure that people act on a moral basis, and some more esoteric thoughts on these.
I would like to extend several related ideas to you, many of which you're already aware of: the first is the principle of the "Golden Rule," which states that one should do unto others as one wishes others to do to oneself; a second is the categorical imperative, which states that one should only act in such a way that all others could also be expected (or desired) to act; the third is the principle of karma, in that all good and all evil that we do will find its way back to us in equal measure. The essential principle of all three of these is that we should only behave in such a way as we would like others to behave in their dealings with us, whether or not our actions will have mirrored repercussions.
Now, I personally do not strictly believe in the principle of karma. If you do, I'm not about to condemn you for it--such a belief can only help you act in ways that are beneficial for all--but all the same, it isn't in the strict sense for me. I don't believe in a cosmic ledger that requires that all good and bad that we do be funneled back to us in precisely the same quantities that we meted it out in the first place. However, I would like to suggest that the general idea of karma is one that is constructive, and bears some practical meaning.
When we act in altruistic fashion, abiding with the things that are truly meant to do us and others good, there always exists a chance that our altruism will be taken advantage of by unscrupulous people. There always exists a chance that no one around us will notice, no one will give us a pat on the back, and that (at least on the obvious level) no good will be repaid us for our deeds. But I personally believe that continued good is likely to invite later good (some immediate, some postponed) into our lives. When we act benevolently, and make it a pattern, people can see it in us. They are drawn to us because they feel they can trust us, because they don't see why we would harm them. They want to get to know us, because in acting in such a way, we differentiate ourselves from the largely self-interest-interested masses. And they may even aspire to be like us, in seeing how what we do for good can be fulfilling in our lives and the lives of those around us. This is even true, I might add, for those who have a cheery, positive spirit, even if one's other actions are not profound.
Contrast this with people who consistently have a venomous streak. These generally are not liked, and only people with an addiction for punishment or a desire to be controlled find themselves attracted to such exploitative individuals. Only those who are already malevolent will aspire to be like them, in so much as they are already treading along similar paths. No one feels safe around such people, because they know they must be wary of what pitfalls may await them just around the corner, laid with care by those with the grin of the predator.
In these ways, the way we act can affect the way those around us see and treat us. Others are more likely to do us good and to speak highly of us to others if we ourselves do kind and gracious things, while we will almost without exception be the victims of scorn and rejection if evil or negativity is all that we truly radiate (despite any efforts to conceal them with false generosity or untrue kindness).
So, this notion of "what goes around comes around" is not entirely lunch-grade bologna; on the contrary, it definitely reflects real social behavior. Similarly, acting in a way in which we would like to be treated by others is a form of being true to oneself, which (at least if you ask me) is never a bad thing, and certainly helps clarify the expectations of others. Likewise, acting only in a way that we could expect everyone else to act helps us bear in mind the fact that we are all citizens of this planet, and that sometimes even though our actions may not affect any specific individuals around us, it's important to remember that our choices can still cause changes in the lives of people we may never even meet.
Practically speaking, I think that this meditation probably speaks for itself. By choosing to act benevolently, kindly, and in a welcoming fashion, we help invite the good in others into our lives, and--who knows?--perhaps even blessing from outside the people we know. Similarly, selfish choices and brooding demeanor can send a clear message of rejection to the others who are near us, and may perhaps reject any other blessings which might otherwise be headed our way. Think on this to help integrate it into your daily action patterns, if you so choose.
My best wishes go with you as you strive to act in the best possible ways and most positive fashions that your life and circumstances can afford. |
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| Sunday Meditation 2/10/08 |
[Feb. 10th, 2008|11:49 am] |
Today, upon waking, I thought about what passage I might read once more conscious and mobile, as is my custom on Sunday mornings, and immediately the word "Nehemiah" came to mind. Now, to be honest, I couldn't remember what exactly happened in Nehemiah, nor had I any discrete expectation of what I'd find there, but I have a tendency to act on impulses that don't seem overly risky and/or harmful, so I did. This Meditation, accordingly, is inspired by it.
Nehemiah is a book in the Bible that talks about rebuilding--specifically that of Jerusalem, against the odds and the wishes of some of the neighboring people groups. See, during that time the Jews were in a sort of captivity, as it's been called; rather than being self-governing, they were a people under the dominion of other nations (I think it was the Persian Empire at the time of this book, if I remember, but it might have been the Babylonians. I'm not a theologian, nor an archaeologist or historian, so I'm not entirely sure offhand.) Biblical narrative describes this captivity as being a direct result of the disobedience and rebellion against God that so classically, cyclically describes the Hebrews throughout the Old Testament (and, one could argue, in some of the New as well, but that is a matter of some debate.).
At the time that their own nation had been conquered, the Jews' capital city of Jerusalem was razed, which was a remarkable feat considering the size and strength of the city. The Jews had been largely deported to other lands (Israel is a bit out of the way when you think about it), and so Jerusalem lay in ruins for quite a while.
Then there was this guy named Nehemiah, who happened to be cupbearer to a king by the singular name of Artaxerxes. An urge to discern the status of the "lost city" came upon him at some point, and in a tactful manner he got Artaxerxes to let him not only go visit the ruins and see how things are, but also to give him letters of safe passage, and even essentially all the lumber from the king's forests he could use for the rebuilding effort (such as it would be). It is said in the narrative that this was due to God having his hand upon the matter, thus helping persuade Artaxerxes to let him do such a thing. (Indeed, it was no small thing; as cupbearer to Artaxerxes, Nehemiah would be responsible for sampling any and all beverages that made their way to the king to make sure that they were not poisoned or otherwise not a good idea to drink. It's surprising that the king let him go at all, with this vital responsibility in mind.)
So, Nehemiah took a few good men with him and went to look at the city, but to help make sure that no one would give them trouble about it (there were a lot of people then who didn't particularly like the Jews, much as has been the case for most of history), they didn't actually visit the city until the dark of night. Apparently it was at least as bad as everyone had thought it would be, but Nehemiah was undaunted; by becoming perhaps the most amazing volunteer coordinator in most historical record, he pulled together scads of scattered Israelites and started rebuilding the wall.
Now, for those of you who have been to Jerusalem, it's big, but compared to things like NYC, we have trouble thinking of it as -that- big. However, in that day and age, Jerusalem had been kind of like what NYC or Washington, DC is to us now: major metropolis. If you look at where Jerusalem's walls used to be, and then you consider that all of it was built by hand, using biblical-era implements, you begin to realize just how much labor went into this.
It gets better: some of the people in the area who were what you might call the past-day version of present anti-Semitists were heckling the Jews, and making veiled threats against their safety as they worked. They tried to spread discord and false rumors, such as the notion that the Israelites were going to build up Jerusalem and then try to rebel against their current captor empires. (Mind you, it would have been rather foolhardy for them to attempt such a thing, so most people probably discounted such rumors anyway--but it certainly wasn't going to help morale, as actually doing such a thing would be a literal death sentence for any such rebels.)
So, to help make sure they'd be ready if anyone tried anything, all of the workers carried swords or other weapons even as they worked. (Most of you haven't probably tried something like that before, but it's really awkward. Trust me.) Also, some of the workers were pulled for guard duty, day and night, which undoubtedly slowed progress. In the end, nobody attacked (possibly because they realized that all of the workers were armed), but nonetheless the threat at the time seemed very real.
The book of Nehemiah recounts in surprising detail who did what in the rebuilding process. This likely had to do with the fact that Hebrew culture focuses heavily upon lineage, thus meaning that people would want to be able to claim that their great-great-grandfathers worked on rebuilding the wall and have something to point to as evidence--but that's not what I find significant about this passage. We'll get there.
With all the people Nehemiah could assemble working together on the project, the wall was rebuilt in 52 days. That's really amazing when you think about it--in just under 2 months, an entire large-scale city's wall was rebuilt, by hand, using only ancient tools and manpower. Naturally, afterwards came all manner of feasting and celebrating, and also rededication of the Hebrew people to the codes of law that they had long left in disarray. It's a rather inspiring story, all in all.
The point that I want to draw out of this narrative is that the people who worked on the wall were not all professional construction workers or stonemasons or architects (even though such people were likely quite plentiful in that day and age). Rather, the wall was rebuilt by an entire community. People from all walks of life simply bent their backs and got to it, rather than avoiding the work. (Interestingly, it says that a certain group of nobles were essentially the only ones to turn down the work. Bible-era upper-class snobbery, anyone?) It even mentions a group of daughters who were helping with the work. In that day and age, daughters were considered just more than a nuisance: inevitably, they'd be a drain on family resources, unable to do much more than housework (as a matter of capability, pride, and education alike), until one day they'd be snapped up by some young man and turn into a typical Jewish housewife. They were given poor regard and are generally left out of Biblical narrative--so it's important to notice that they were specifically mentioned here, in the tale of the rebuilding. I'd say it's because this point I'm trying to make is exactly the one the author of Nehemiah (presumably Nehemiah himself) wants to make: that every single person was capable of helping out, and that all kinds of people did, and that everyone who did deserves to be able to claim that honor of having done so.
For the practical application of this: we, too, are all capable of being common workers towards shared positive change. We have this tendency in life to sort of compartmentalize our own existences, saying that because our "job" is thus-and-so, other things are beyond or below or simply not meant for us, regardless of whether or not we are actually capable of doing them. We often say that philanthropists and humanitarians and other benevolent do-gooders are simply better people or have bigger hearts than we do, and that's that.
These are lies. We are capable of bringing about change for the better in ourselves that can liberate us from our own misconceptions and allow and motivate us to bring about beneficial change in the world around us. Those of us who are fortunate to have what we do should always be on the lookout for ways in which we can give back to those around us. It doesn't have to be money or tangible things; we can give verbal support, we can raise our positions, we can go and do labor that most people don't do for kicks, we can be a presence. For example: I know for a fact that whoever wins this next election, a lot of people will prefer to sit back and blame whoever wins for the problems we're having, and mope and grouse about it, but never once actually get involved to fix the problems being complained about. This is not constructive! We can bring about change regardless of who's in office, where we live, how much money we make, or what our occupations are. We need to relinquish the bonds we place on ourselves unnecessarily and strive to be something bigger than we've allowed ourselves to be out of fear of what might happen if we do, or of fear of losing that margin of comfort in what we've been. Doing so will bring us so much more fulfillment, and will help make our shared world, our community of humans that look so different but really are so alike, a better place for us all.
My best wishes and prayers go with you as you seek opportunities to be a positive difference despite whatever fetters have classically prevented or demotivated you from doing so. |
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| Sunday Meditation 2/3/08 |
[Feb. 3rd, 2008|11:33 am] |
The topic of today's Meditation is actually one that I've thought about a number of times in the past, and indeed played a certain role in my starting this journal in the first place. It wouldn't surprise me if it surfaced again in another post after this, again, but that remains to be seen.
There is a faith group known as Eckankar--some of you may have heard of it in the past--that I'd like to presently draw your attention to. Feel free to research it if you like; my own curiosity in the past has shed light on it that I think is useful for kindling some thought--always a good thing, right?
Eckankar proclaims itself to be "The Religion of the Light and Sound of God." To be honest, I'm not entirely sure what exactly this phrase means, but, based upon the other things I've learned about this faith group, I think I can interpolate: those who practice Eckankar, known amongst themselves as Eckists, both seek to more deeply understand the paths God has shown for them (i.e. the "Light"), and are asked to sing a "love song" for God daily (known as "chanting HU"; the "sound"). Though this, of course, does not describe the entirety of the faith group's practices, they are certainly a good start.
But enough about the semantics of the group's moniker. Eckankar, unlike most faith groups, is more of a proponent of more metaphysical practices than most major monotheistic faiths; to wit, I refer to such things as "Soul Travel" (an Eckist practice not unlike what is usually called "astral projection"), lucid dreams, and, of course, things like chanting. As many of you know, my philosophy tends towards existentialism and as such I am a proponent of a certain degree of individualism (within reason) as a means of expressing one's unique identity, and so I like a certain degree of these odd practices that hold meaning to the people who use them. I'm going to examine some of these at length here.
Eckists believe that, at least some (if not all) of the time when we believe to be dreaming, the soul actually leaves the body and visits other planes of creation. This is the aforementioned "Soul Travel;" according to Eckankar, we can learn things meaningful both to our lives on earth and our personal, spiritual existence. There are purportedly (or so it is believed) certain sagacious individuals who have lived on earth in the past and are now residents on these planes, where they will dispense wisdom and guidance to the people who encounter them in these dreams/Travels. These individuals usually live in certain places (often palatial in nature) on these planes, according to these beliefs, which serve as a helpful identifier to the sleeping traveler.
Now, I'm not about to say that these methods and beliefs are necessarily correct, nor incorrect; what I will say is that they are an interesting way to incorporate self-examination, regardless of the intervention of extraplanar individuals. Supposing for a moment that these people are mistaken, but through the wonders of imagination and expectation manage to manipulate their own dreams to exhibit common symbols, we can see that they have nothing to lose and perhaps something to gain: in dreams we can sometimes learn things about ourselves that we have refused or have been unable to see properly, or we may reveal other wisdom that we have somehow withheld. Depending on how much you believe the subconscious mind "knows" (i.e. some people believe that the subconscious connects to the sum knowledge of all mankind, in which case we could learn just about anything, should it be true), there is a varying degree that can potentially be garnered by consulting a figure that at the least is believed by self to be sagacious and holding worthwhile wisdom. Still, there is nothing harmful to be extracted here, and without question the experience would be one that would be quite rewarding to the person who experiences it, regardless of whether it is simply a hallucination born of expectation, or contact with a real (albeit extraplanar) benevolent entity.
Similarly, the practice of lucid dreaming, which I believe that I have exposited upon in past journals, is entwined in Eckankar with the Eckist practice of Soul Travel, and is itself a highly beneficial practice. However, because I have mentioned it before, I will refrain from going into it at length here.
As to chanting, Eckists believe that chanting "HU" (pronounced "hyuuu") is a way of singing a love song from the spirit to God (often referred to by the name "Sugmad" in Eckankar, much as the Israelites had multiple reserved names for God, such as YHWH and El Shaddai). Personally, I like this fairly well. It is common in faith groups that practice singing hymns, I've found, that hymns become only music and words, without personal meaning; it's almost like a pop star singing on a stage, in that it's like a performance is expected without the performer having to have an ounce of genuine feeling for what is being sung. The practice of chanting "HU" removes both lyrics and prescribed tone, leaving it up to the chanter to imbue it with personal meaning, to let it simply flow from the heart without having to tie words to it. I like this idea--for people who simply want a familiar practice, it can be that, whereas for people who crave a feeling of connection to the divine, it can be this as well. It's simple and relaxing, and requires no knowledge of a song's lyrics or musical progression; even now, with as little as I've told you, all of you who are reading this can do it yourselves (not that I'm asking you to, but you could do it if you wanted to). No Latin, no chords--just the sound you feel you should use to sing your love to the divine. The simplicity is alluring and, if you ask me, appropriate.
The way in which Eckankar inspired me to make this journal in the first place, which some of you may still be wondering about, is that Eckankar doesn't ask for exclusion of outside faith practices, because it's more of a methodology and less of a prescriptive belief/doctrine system. Its practices can be integrated with virtually all monotheistic beliefs, and quite possibly even with some of the polytheistic ones (though I honestly can't say for sure because I'm not a polytheist, myself). This was, in part, the kind of thing I wanted to do with this journal and the Extant Body project: a community where people could come together to strengthen their faith journeys, regardless of doctrinal differences--something that doesn't force believers to exclude all others, even if they don't believe the same thing as others. Perhaps you can understand the connection; I hope that it makes sense to you--sometimes I get a little babbly.
You may be wondering, as well, why I don't simply toss all this and simply go become an Eckist myself. The reason is that the leader of Eck, generally referred to as the Mahanta, is assigned far too much importance (perhaps by his own doing?) for any one person, in my opinion. It's a common shortcoming of new religious movements; it may be a product of a human need to have a faith figure with a face, or perhaps greed on the part of the leaders, or something else entirely. Regardless, this part I do not agree with, just as I do not expect any one of you to treat me as anything more exalted than a fellow faith-seeker.
As to the practical part of this--I'd suggest that you try working with lucid dreams again, if you've started in the past but let it go, or that you start for the first time if you've never done so in the past. It's an extremely rewarding practice with a lot that can be gained from it. Also, if you feel like you'd like to add something new and unique to your faith practices, you can try chanting "HU" as part of your daily or weekly actions. It can be done silently if you desire, but there's something therapeutic and meditative about voicing the sound that I'd recommend at least trying.
My best wishes go with you as you strive to broaden and deepen your personal faith journey as you find unique and meaningful ways to expand its practices. |
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| Sunday Meditation 1/27/08 |
[Jan. 27th, 2008|09:34 am] |
This particular topic I've been bouncing around in my head for some time, saving it as sort of a spare in case I ran into a Sunday without an idea. However, while I'm quite sure that I could have come up with another one today, this one just felt right to use here and now. So, here it is.
As humans, we have a consciousness that is fundamentally separated from those of others, and which (at least primarily in our culture; others may differ) considers this uniqueness and discreteness a valuable thing. To be certain, the concept of individuality is one that is fundamentally intertwined with many of our dearest and closest-held beliefs, such as religion and death, and as such it colors many of the things we do and the ways we think in ways that are often remarkably subtle. However, one thing that a hive mind has on us is that of shared perception and communication. It is a fact that the many divided consciousnesses of the human race means that we are not aware (consciously at least, and probably subconsciously as well) of the sum thoughts or senses of anyone else. However, without a way to share ideas, to convey thoughts and intentions, there is no means for interaction or understanding.
The solution, which is itself something of a subtle thing without conscious examination, is language. Without it, there is only isolation; with it, there is sharing and discourse, which are necessary for the construction and maintenance of societies. Our very ability to relate is tied up in the ability to communicate.
Our ability for higher thought, too, is bound to our ability to process language. While it is possible to elaborate some complicated concepts with a string of other concepts, the ability to tie thoughts together requires some kind of symbolic means to describe the interaction. This symbolism, once refined, is language. For example, if I say the word "tree," some kind of tall woody thing with branches and probably leaves, and maybe flowers too, will likely come to mind in your head. The word "tree" isn't at all like an actual tree, but it becomes equated to the botanical specimen by way of the symbolism that is language.
Aside from the occasional telepath (assuming such people do, in fact, exist, which is a proposition that remains to be seen in my personal experience), humans are not capable of directly translating thought to the minds of each other directly. By agreeing (generally tacitly, through shared culture) on what symbols mean what ideas, we make it possible to relate what's on our mind to those around us. The fact that we must encode our thoughts into these shared symbols, and that the people who hear them must then decode them, too, means that errors will inevitably occur, but regardless of this fact we maintain a remarkable degree of accuracy in passing on what we want to relate.
Similarly, without language, we have no idea what happened in the past. We no longer live in bygone eras, and the people who did have often died long before we arrived on the scene. However, by their diligent recording (via language) of the things that happened in their times, and by the diligent unearthing and reading (via language) of these records, we can be transported into a world of the past, and, with a good helping of imagination, see the world as it may well have been even thousands of years ago. Thus, language can not only transmit ideas real-time, but provide a means to preserve ideas against the flow of time and society.
This concept of language being an integral part of human existence isn't without repercussions in other areas as well. We often evaluate people based upon the truthfulness of what they say almost as much as the nature of the things they actually do. Words can also have potent emotional effects upon people, even if perhaps the meaning of them was not intended by the speaker/writer in the same way as the hearer/reader interpreted them. However, it's an interesting thing that in the Bible, Jesus Christ, the namesake and central faith figure of the Christian, was originally referred to as "The Word." Whether there is a more specific translation in the original Hebrew or not remains to be known by yours truly, but it is interesting to note this specific selection of title. It was not "The Son" or "The Power" or even "The Right Hand" of God, but simply The Word. Symbolizing a primary faith entity (albeit a typically rather poly-imaged entity) with something as simple as the concept of the word is a remarkable metaphor--one could argue that it means a variety of different things. For example, it could be an indication of the intent for Jesus to serve as a messenger of the divine to the world--that is, something of a translator between divine intention and wisdom and human language-oriented minds--or it could perhaps say that He was designed to be a tangible reminder of the existence and potency of the divine, much as books full of words about the past inform us about history.
This motif is a common one in many religious traditions. It is rare that a deity in any culture is mute; if so, how would the entity convey its wishes and wisdom to humankind? Also, without story and tradition to preserve the mythologies of these beings, how would future generations know that these beings are believed to exist, regardless of whether their belief continues? Language and words are necessary to continue and disseminate belief.
Out of this, what can we glean? For starters, we perhaps can start to realize the importance of language in our own use. What we say and how we say it can affect others profoundly (indeed, that is part of the intent of this very publication). With this in mind, we should do our best to be careful and precise in what we say, to avoid miscommunication on the one hand, but also to avoid causing harm with our words on the other. At the same time, we should also be careful what words we say to ourselves; the wrong thoughts (often in the form of hurtful sentences repeated in our minds) can persuade us to believe that we are no good, or worth less than we truly are. Furthermore, idle chatter gets us nowhere, and often causes us to say things that we do not really mean; it is good to keep a firm grasp upon what one is saying and to not say things that are utterly meaningless that simply take up dead air.
However, the power of words to be used for good should not be forgotten or underrated, either. What we say, what we write, can be used as a catalyst for healing, for happiness, for love. Sometimes saying or writing something to those we care about, even those whose affection we take for granted, can mean a lot more than we anticipate a simple sentence might. It's important to take stock of things once in a while and call them for what they really are.
Like many human implements, language can be used for harm or help. Take care to use it in the best way that you can. |
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| Sunday Meditation 1/20/08 |
[Jan. 20th, 2008|10:40 pm] |
I am unusually tired today, so the Meditation will be unusually short and simple today--but I think it is for a good reason.
Over this weekend, a joint effort between Albertson's/Sav-on and a number of volunteer UCSD pharmacy students allowed for a health-screening booth at the Asian American Expo in Pomona, CA.
I was there. The number of people there was amazing; I was in a sea of people who mostly spoke languages of which I knew virtually no words.
Yet even in this, there was communication. A small polite bow, a kind smile--these things needed no words, no qualifications--just well-wishing from one person to another.
These people seemed at first so different from me, but now I feel, in some odd way (like many things I feel), as though I am their distant kin--perhaps not-well-connected, and we don't talk much, but related all the same.
The point is this: We are all human, each one of us, and none any more so in being than any other. Even if ethnicities differ, we are all one race: human.
So why, then, do we usually treat each other like others aren't? |
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| Sunday Meditation 1/13/08 |
[Jan. 13th, 2008|12:50 pm] |
Hello, my friends. I want to take this moment to thank you for coming to read what I write here. All I have are humble offerings of my ideas, which I hope can do you some good; I am glad that you come to see them, and even occasionally share your own thoughts. I hope that what I can do will be both of practical import in your lives, and to create a haven of sorts where ideas can be freely shared to the good of all of us. Again, thank you.
Today I am encountering uncommon difficulty in determining a topic to write a full topic upon, so I hope that you will not mind that I will be simply musing here, not yet knowing where I'm going with all of this.
In recent days, I've become interested (as many of you know, I have perhaps too many interests for my own good, or at least too many to work with all at once) in hypnotherapy. Without a doubt, most people can acknowledge that there is more to the mind than what we consciously notice; the nature and aims of this segment (if it can be called that) are of hot dispute, but notwithstanding we can agree that it exists. Working with this fraction is the methodology of hypnotherapy. How does this happen?
The hypnotic state, which is not at all like the sleep its Greek etymology suggests, is often referred to in the field as "trance." This particular term isn't one that many Christians seem to like, as they tend to think it may be related to demon possession or some kind of mental vulnerability. As I may have mentioned before, most of the popular US religions seem to champion individuality perhaps even to the point of self-centeredness, and the idea of allowing another person to help work with one's own mind is thus often an unpopular concept. However, in both my experience and the literature, hypnosis is, in fact, far from this. The hypnotic trance state is one remarkably akin to standard states of meditation--a practice which itself has been indicated in numerous studies to help with a wide variety of benchmarks in human existence, both psychological and physiological. Also, the hypnotic experience is remarkably dependent upon the individual: the current consensus in the field is that all hypnosis is effectively self-hypnosis, with the hypnotherapist acting as a guide or coach, rather than simply an administrator, a rather different gesture like unto someone delivering an IV drip or chiropractic adjustment.
The ramifications are staggering. While not everything in the world can be treated per se by hypnotherapy, almost any disease demonstrates symptoms that hypnosis can work with. Some may yet to be figured out, but the number of diseases that, to our surprise, are alleviated by hypnosis, is somewhat staggering. Warts, for example, can be treated as effectively with hypnosis as they can be with salicylic acid--a common compound available on practically every drugstore's shelves. The role of mental physiology in regards to some diseases, therefore, is clearly not entirely understood. While some diseases appear to be, without question, caused by various pathogenic substances or organisms, this does not always sum up the entire illness.
This is all well and good, but I've always intended for this to be a practical journal, and so I'll try to include some practical thoughts here. What we put into our minds can definitely affect how we live. What, then, of defeatist thinking? Is this likely to help us? While it is unlikely to simply inflict disease upon us, it certainly can't improve our odds of avoiding disease--or of making a faster recovery.
Similarly, positive thinking may help us. Though a line exists between positive thinking and delusion that should not be crossed, sustaining ourselves with emotion of love, of hope, of strength can certainly not hurt us. The only way to go on this road, as they say, is up. It's easy to focus on the problems life throws us, but consciously intending to focus on the good things, the small blessings along with the large ones, will help us lead a life that is more satisfying, full of gratitude, and hopeful for the future.
On a somewhat removed note, we can also implement meditation or similar practices to help bring relaxation and support into our hectic lives. This simple act, which only takes a brief amount of time, can stabilize mood, lower blood pressure, and, by extension, perhaps even lengthen our lifespans, not to mention adding breadth to the spans we do have. If you don't know how to perhaps make such an effort, let me know and we can work together to custom-craft a procedure for you.
My best wishes to you as you seek to craft your life and your practices into the best habits to encourage a fruitful and supported existence. |
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| Saturday Meditation 1/5/08 |
[Jan. 5th, 2008|08:25 pm] |
After finals, a blurry Christmas break, a birthday, and a bout of the intestinal flu, I have at long last returned. Considering that I'm a bit in arrears, I'm posting one of these early with the intention that I shall construct another on the morrow. Cheers!
As the new year is upon us, I thought that perhaps a resolution-related meditation would be fitting.
Many of us have likely been around the cycle of New Year's resolutions and New Year's resignation--trying perhaps for goals well beyond our practical reach. Each time the opportunity to set beneficial goals for ourselves surfaces, we feel motivated to shoot for the moon, setting expectation for achievement that exceeds the typical levels of exertion we are typically willing to utilize.
After an initial period of enthusiasm and zeal for whatever new cause we may be espousing, something often surfaces that makes our goal that much more trying for our (often taxing) labors to succeed. Sometimes it comes in the form of circumstance--an unforeseen event that demands our involvement seemingly rips us forcibly away from our endeavour. Other times it comes as a shift in priorities: the goal which once seemed important now seems minimal, and perhaps a case of diminishing returns. Yet the most likely reason for ceasing one's efforts may well be that the exertion required seems too great, or that the achievement is simply beyond our level.
I'm not about to say that every single goal is manageable--trying to become supreme world dictator is a feat probably beyond most of us, in part because I hear the competition is rather fierce--as I'd like to believe that I'm a fairly reasonable person, at the least. But what I believe I have gleaned from experience, both observed and personal in nature, is this: if there is something that any one of us wants badly enough to endure even considerable personal sacrifice to gain it, and which is not likely to be taken by another who has advantages beyond our grasp, we can indeed do that--almost without exception.
It almost sounds too good to be true, doesn't it? How many times have we wanted to do this or have that, but found that it seemed just out of our grasps? The reasons we usually give use language that the target is in some way too good for us--"I didn't have it in me to stick to this fitness plan," or "I can't afford to buy a place to live; all I can do is rent."
Life is many times a situation of balance and trade-off--though perhaps the cost of something may be greater or less than its worth, whether fiduciary or personal--and this is the fundamental fact of the statement I am here positing. It is not usually true that our desires are entirely beyond us. Rather, the ones that seem to be this way are usually those that require us to sacrifice some degree of personal comfort to attain them. Whether it is through physical effort, or through emotional stress, or by way of something merely outside our typical range of activities, goals that feel beyond us are usually quite reachable, but the requirement of existing outside of our usual and customary often intimidates or puts us at such unease that we are willing to desert cause which we so recently had championed so vigorously.
Lest you should think that I am suggesting that we should all become single-minded, ruthless pursuers of boundless ambition, I would like to point out here that the ends do not always justify the means. When one's goals (or perhaps the means of reaching them) require the exploitation of other people, the means should definitely be reconsidered--if not the goals themselves! Our desires should never overrun our morality--only our comfort is potentially dispensable.
So, you may be asking, how does all of this relate to things we can actually do? The answer, put simply, is simplicity. While most of us have no desire nor need to become an ascetic, the lives many of us lead are rife with unnecessary habits and belongings. In some ways, we can scarcely be blamed for it--our society is almost irredeemably materialistic, and continuously bombards us with messages supporting this near-pointless practice. However, with careful and close examination of the ways in which we live our lives, we can pare down what we do and require to nearly the level of the bare essentials.
With the spare time and resources freed up by a more simplistic lifestyle, we can then refocus our energy and efforts towards goals that better ourselves and the world around us. Mix in some patience (a substance particularly rare in our culture of instant gratification), and goals that once seemed obstructed or out of reach can become quite attainable. We simply must sort out our priorities if we wish to attain them; isn't a dream come true worth waiting, persevering, and sacrificing for?
Finally, by setting goals for ourselves that we are willing and able to accomplish, we ensure that more of them will be achieved, leading to a richer sense of fulfillment and self-esteem. We will feel more capable and realized, enabling us to find more desire and motivation in ourselves to work for the greater good. We generally start off concerned primarily with ourselves and our own matters; when we branch out, we can transcend that tier of priorities and address the issues facing our societies and our fellow man (and woman!).
My best wishes go with you and yours as you seek a life of fulfillment and de-complication. |
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| Sunday Meditation 10/02/07 |
[Dec. 2nd, 2007|09:46 pm] |
I apologize for the lack of posting throughout November; my writing time (and presence of mind) was taken up between school and my annual novel-writing project. Hopefully that interruption will remain the only one for some time to come.
Today's topic is one that struck me I think yesterday, and while it is a somewhat tricky one, I think I'll manage.
When you ask people what they want out of life, you'll likely get a number of responses. It could be anything from "lots of money" to "world peace" to "nude wrestling in swimming pools filled with Jell-O," but in the end, if you ask people why they want what they want (which are usually things, but sometimes intangibles), the answer will be "because I want to be happy." It's no coincidence that "the pursuit of happiness" is something that was considered important enough to go on the Constitution, after all.
The problem, unfortunately, is that we usually really don't know what will make us happy; when we get something that we think will provide us with the elusive happiness we seek, we usually enjoy it for a while and then grow tired of it. Why do you think there is such a market for secondhand goods? Why do you think we live in the disposable age? Why do you think there is so much divorce? The answer is that we blindly pursue that which we expect to bring us lasting happiness and satisfaction, and find out that, in fact, it is not capable of being the panacea we expected it to be.
Perhaps the distinction that we should realize here is that joy, which is a deeper sort of happiness (I believe) than simple pleasure, works better for us in the end. We are not merely happy to see the dear friend whom we love more deeply and sublimely than kin; we are joyful to see them. We do not wish "happiness" to the world in the Christmas season--we wish it joy. Again, I see this as not merely a coincidence.
The problem, though, does not go away: if we should be seeking joy instead of simple pleasure, how do we find joy? The answer is not a simple one, but in some areas it can be compacted into a rule of thumb with the old statement "follow your bliss." When we do things that bring us lasting satisfaction, often in simple ways, we do them well, leading us to a continued sense of satisfaction that prolongs our joy of doing whatever it might be.
Additionally, we often can benefit from trading what we do for new and better things. For example, people often find that volunteering brings them joy, as it suddenly gives life meaning outside one's own existence. Attempting to meditate or perform other spiritual actions in life bring us in touch with the divine, which broadens and enriches our existence, giving us an increased capacity to experience and find joy. Expressing ourselves through creative outlets such as art, construction, or performance allows us to show how we feel to others, lending a sense that what we think and believe is important, which can often provide a feeling of joy in the form of lasting and worth. Working with animals or plants can lend joy by helping us understand the many forms of life on this planet, and how beautiful and precious they are--along with how fortunate we are to share this existence with them.
Now, I realize that much of this probably sounds very hippie to you, and as we all know, the path to hippiedom leads to partaking of many recreational substances, yes? Well, no, thankfully. The problem is that it's what you've probably been led to believe. Our culture, primarily via our media, is designed to convince you that happiness can be bought, because it's the media's job to sell you things. Of course, in some ways this can be useful (many products exist that save us time and effort on things that really do need to be done), but along with this mindset has come the notion that the only way that we will be satisfied is through obtaining more. It doesn't matter what; more is simply better because more must always be paid for.
Or so they think.
You can do more for others without costing you anything besides free time--free time that might otherwise be used spending money on entertainment, for example. You can meditate, pray, or otherwise seek to develop your spiritual sense of self without paying for anything besides the thermostat and lighting in your house--if you're even doing it indoors. You can express yourself for nothing more than the cost of the media--and if you're doing digital art, you're only going to pay for the electricity to run the computer. And you can go take walks at your local park, smelling the roses and greeting people and their pets for no cost at all; if you want to splurge, you could perhaps get a dog for yourself (something I highly recommend, mostly because I just plain love dogs, and they always seem to have more than enough joy to go around--but maybe that's just me). Sure, as people say, time is money--but if that's the case, why are you using time-money to spend real money on things that won't satisfy you in the end? Obviously food and shelter and so forth are important, but some of the things we do to entertain ourselves do not enrich us personally, bring lasting satisfaction, or even really do much for us in the short run besides let us be passive about ourselves.
Mind you, the list I made here is not conclusive! The things that we can do in life that will bring us joy are varied, and may extend to very personal things that may not do much for most other people. However, realize that the things that truly give you an enduring, profound sense of joy are very often things that society does not ask you to do--don't be afraid to look outside of the box!
My best wishes go with you as you strive to invite joy into your life through the unique ways you have been given to seek it. |
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| Sunday Meditation 10/28 |
[Oct. 28th, 2007|09:26 am] |
Normally it is not my proclivity to pursue the latest disaster with the things I write or talk about. This is because there are many who have been there, wherever it was, and I'm sure that what they have to say is better informed and more genuinely affected by the events in question.
It is thus that I feel that I may safely write about the disasters in the San Diego area--I've breathed the smoke that once made up homes; I've seen and heard the evacuees displaced by the fires. I won't be a poser or an uninformed voice on the matter because it has directly affected my life.
It has been essentially a week since this whole situation began. There was some faint smoke last Saturday, yes, and it continued through Sunday, before worsening dramatically Sunday evening and carrying into Monday morning. I live, you see, in La Jolla--a coastal town (city?) on something that resembles a peninsula or one of those other funny-named protrusions of land. It is moderately lush (by Southern California standards), only moderately dense in terms of development, and possesses scarcely a shake roof in sight.
This meant that La Jolla, as providence would have it, remained essentially untouched by actual flames. However, the Santa Ana winds, which are the primary reason the fire was exacerbated to the degree that it was, blow from east to west, which meant that all the smoke from the fires was carried over and through our town on its way out to the ocean.
Our school was closed all week on account of the poor (hazardous?) air quality. Some students went home; others were evacuated and couldn't go home even if they wanted to. Others of us remained here. In a way, I'm glad that I did, because it would have been a simple response to simply toss a few changes of clothes into my car and go drive to my grandparents' house, away from the smoke and ash, and simply wait for the whole mess to subside--yet I would have missed so much.
The interpretation of the situation rapidly progressed from a county to a state to a federal emergency. Thousands of acres of land were consumed; hundreds of homes have been destroyed. While I'm not here to give you statistics on that--the news will have much more accurate and packaged figures than I do--the fact remained that many were evacuated to prevent their demise (or even much harm); some of those evacuated do not have a place to return to now that the evacuations are lifting, and in fact knew as much not long after being evacuated.
In Southern California, the population density is much greater than that of Northern Cal., where I've been living for the last 10 years. This means that the structures around here are generally designed to hold many more people, and this lends itself well to having a variety of places available for disaster evacuees to stay. About 15 minutes from where I presently live is Qualcomm (nee Chargers) Stadium, which (if I remember properly) can hold thousands of people without posing a fire hazard in terms of occupancy. Its sturdy structure and central location made it an ideal location for an evacuee shelter, and it was promptly made into one.
However, when an evacuation is put into place, people usually aren't given time to retrieve very many of their belongings, regardless of how much will remain upon their return. This meant that Qualcomm Stadium was home (at first) to people lacking in many of the things they needed to deal with everyday life.
Enter the philanthropic. Donations from around the area poured into Qualcomm Stadium. Clothes, water, nonperishable food...there eventually grew to be such a stockpile that those originally accepting donations have had to refuse them for the last several days. The response was incredible, even in light of the immense number of people displaced (be it voluntarily or by mandate).
Near the beginning of the emergency, the leader of the area Pharmacy Emergency Response Team (I had no idea such a thing even existed) contacted one of our professors, asking if he could mobilize the students at our pharmacy school to help provide medicinal services to those at the Stadium and at other shelters throughout the area. Though I'd heard that other students in other years of our school had a reputation for being somewhat antisocial, I rapidly discovered that they were, if nothing else, remarkably philanthropic with their time. We had so many volunteers that we often were turned away from helping due to limitations on time and supervision.
The abundance notwithstanding, I was fortunate to be allowed to help out this past Wednesday. Upon arriving, my immediate impression was like that of a carnival; booths and EZ-Up shelters were erected all over the place giving away all manner of things for free. Stations with international calling and free Internet access were sprinkled here and there; free food, entertainment, and even crisis counseling were easily had. The atmosphere, though hazy with the lingering smoke and mingled with the tension of the situation, was still surprisingly hopeful and encouraging. It wasn't a party, no, but it could be seen as a celebration of human resilience and altruism.
I was assigned to the over-the-counter medication and personal health satellite of our pharmacy operations, which, unlike the "main pharmacy," was not sequestered away in the relative quiet and placidness of the stadium's ersatz medical center; rather, we were there in the midst of the throng, a continuously shifting, organic mass of sensory stimuli of all sorts. We handed out eye drops and Visine like you wouldn't believe, but Tylenol and Advil were not exactly unasked-for, either (we had those, too). Everything we had at that "drugstore" was donated, so we didn't have to charge a thing for it, since all of us were already volunteering our time. Even while I was there, people brought boxes full of supplies--a dentist's office staff brought in a box full of toothpaste, toothbrushes, and evend denture adhesive; an optometrist delivered a stack of packaged reading glasses--the altruism of the people there was incredible. And it wasn't like the Houston Superdome or any of the things that happened during Katrina (even though FEMA was right across from our booth)--there was no panicked looting or violence; I didn't feel immediately threatened in the slightest by being there (though the gun-toting stationed National Guard forces could have been part of the reason for that).
Serving there brought a unique feeling. I've volunteered many times in the past, but in many cases the things I've done have been things that many people may benefit from, but not very many at any one time, and generally not when those people have actually been there for it. Serving at Qualcomm was so much different--I was actually meeting, if only briefly, countless, nameless (to me) people who were seeking relief from some of the things that ailed them, and I was able to help ensure that they received that relief. It was a powerfully personal feeling, and I'm endlessly grateful that I was granted the opportunity to feel it and to be a part of that amazing environment.
So, what I guess I'm trying to say with all of this is that while disasters are never inherently a simply good thing, much good can come from them. This event showed me that our species, as it were, is quite capable of choosing to be benevolent rather than greedy when disaster strikes, bringing about impersonal good at personal cost than impersonal harm leading to personal (illicit) gain. While I'm sure that there were some people at the stadium who weren't evacuated at all and were just mooching off of the free stuff, when you donate something, you're freely giving up something of value so that another person (ideally less fortunate) will be able to use it--there are no strings attached once you have surrendered the items and/or the time. And indeed, the sense of community that was formed, shared by those deprived and those aiding them, was a remarkable thing to simply be immersed in.
And the fire itself was a good thing as well. When all of this started, I, like most people, had an initial moment of asking to no one in particular (God, maybe?) why all this had to be happening (mostly because it seemed to me like it was going to be a rather sizable inconvenience, rather than because it was some kind of existential angst-producing event). Before I'd even finished the thought, I heard in my mind the response so that the earth can be made new again. I'm not about to say "God told me the answer!" with absolute certainty (I'm good at imagining things--some might say -too- good), but I'm inclined to believe that He was at least involved in that particular moment. Either way, I believe that this answer makes sense--the chaparral-like microclimate that is part of this region relies on periodic burns to make the ground fertile, so that it can support continued generations of the plant life that native animals have historically grazed upon and made their homes in, and that helps provide our populated region with oxygen to breathe. We have decided to build our homes and businesses so up and close to it that we take the risk of being included in these fiery revitalizations unwillingly. (While I'm not trying to say here that the destruction was a good thing or that it's all our fault, we nonetheless certainly contribute somewhat to our own demise by choosing to build and reside as we do.) But that is beside the point; events like this will help us learn how to prevent similar destruction in the future, and serve as a reminder of its ever-present possibility, so that we will not become too lax in our assumptions regarding this risk.
This is, of course, aside from the alternate meanings possible for the phrase I heard in response to my unspoken question, which will vary depending upon your eschatology.
To those who have lost cherished belongings and homes (I might include family members if any appreciable number of people had died, but mercifully the loss of life at the hands of this fire has been virtually nil) in the fires, my sympathies are with you at this time--I wish you the best in rebuilding and replacing the things that cannot be recovered as they once were. To those who have helped in any way--be it monetary support from across the globe or hands-on service here in the county--my heartfelt thanks go to you; it has been my honor to serve alongside you and those you have supported. To the rest of you, who have been unharmed by the disaster, I wish you a safe and blessed week, and hope that the reminder that all on this earth is so easily swept away is not lost, but rather that you will take stock of what really matters in your life, and do your best to cherish it for what it is worth to you, even in all of its relative impermanence. |
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| Sunday Meditation 10/21/07 |
[Oct. 21st, 2007|04:16 pm] |
Today my reading in a different book has given me some inspiration. I hope that it serves you as it has already for me.
It remains a fact, though in some ways an unfortunate one, that the Bible is often seen as largely inaccessible blather with some nice Jesus and a few memorable fables thrown in for flavor. This argument, of course, would mean nothing and thus not be quite so popular if there were not some reasons that people believe it (which of course there are).
A fair contributor to this effect is the large proportion of prophetic, genealogical, and legal segments of both Testaments (though especially the Old one). These areas seem to most non-Hebrew or non-biblico-scholastic individuals to be about as interesting as painting grass and watching it grow as it dries. And who can blame them? The material therein tends to be somewhat difficult and foreign to most, and often requires intensive study to gain an appreciation or interest. Combine this with the immense amount of misfortune strewn into the pages, and we can probably see why few people tend to enjoy reading it.
This creates an unfortunate circumstance because there is material of genuine universal interest also sprinkled about even in the more foreboding portions, and in fact with a little digging relevant messages can be teased out of nearly all portions (aside from the genealogical ones...I have trouble finding use for those). One such case is the book of Daniel, which at first glance appears to be rather single-minded in following Daniel and his adventures in the empire of the Babylonians, such as they were. In all fairness, there certainly are a lot of Daniel's escapades being highlighted, and that makes for great tales to retell (See Also: Daniel and the Lion's Den). However, some of you know that I love the idea of superheroes and so forth, and a key to every superhero is some kind of special ability. These range from Batman's gadgetry and general machismo to the regenerative ability of Wolverine to the time-bending hijinks of the lovable Hiro Nakamura. This ability dictates in many ways the strengths and weaknesses of the character, and thus often what the character will do (obviously sending Colossus into a magnetic waste-processing plant isn't the best of ideas). So when I looked at the larger-than-life figure that was Daniel in his eponymous book of the Bible, I examined particularly closely for what in the world his super-duper ability was.
The answer was one that seemed rather mundane: Daniel was gifted in understanding. Well sheesh, isn't that splendid? Just by figuring things out, the guy becomes one of the top officials in the occidental side of the world's largest empire. (Granted, we are informed that this is a divine gift, which certainly can't hurt, but still, understanding at least on the surface seems like such a small thing for God to give somebody in comparison to something like eyebeams or even Samson's immense might.)
Yet it soon becomes apparent (once you understand the implications of understanding!) that this gift is in fact extremely useful. Understanding is key to so much that we take it for granted; misunderstanding is generally something undesirable for all parties involved in a situation (scenarios involving intentional deception aside, as those aren't nice). Let's face it: the world is a huge and confusing place, and without question we cannot possibly make sense of it all. It's why we as humans create models: we make something easy to understand that is not what reality actually is, but it approximates and/or explains reality sufficiently well that we can wrap our tiny little brains around it. Assuming equal relevance, a more complex theory will describe reality more accurately, but also be harder to understand; with understanding we can really get into the nuts and bolts of the universe.
This is not to say that science is the only application which we can derive for understanding. Perhaps most key to the life of the necessarily social creature that is the human being is the ability to understand others. We must understand communications of all forms in order to live our daily lives. Everything from instructions on packages to conversations with our significant others require that we have comprehension of what exactly is trying to be conveyed. Again, misunderstanding can range from comical (hearing improper words in a serious speech) to lethal (dosing a patient with the wrong medication or wrong strength of a strong and potentially deadly drug).
Conversely, understanding itself seems to drive our uniquely human ways. Insomuch as we can tell, we're the only species on this planet that actively seeks out mysteries so that we can understand them. Some things are of virtually no practical import, but that doesn't matter--we still just want to "get it." We ponder things like the afterlife, the nature of the soul, and so forth, hoping to find answers, and even though none of us can empirically prove any of it, we just want to feel like we know what's going on. After all, no one likes being left out of the loop, almost regardless of the circumstances.
Suddenly, or at least through this gradual process, it becomes apparent that someone who's really good at understanding will be more likely to lead what might seem like a "charmed life" to others, simply because he or she will be able to make fewer mistakes, learn new things more quickly, make good informed choices, and relate well to others (regardless of what they can offer him or her), which are all helpful things to have. While it's less likely that rulers are going to offer massive rewards for dream interpretation any longer, given the short shrift usually assigned to sleep and dreams in general these days (look how much caffeine we imbibe!), understanding can also potentially result in sizable gain--just think of someone who writes a best-selling self-help book, or invents a new drug to intercept a disease mechanism that was so convoluted that people left it alone, or even simply a kind soul who sees underneath the grubby exterior of a person and helps him or her develop into something amazing.
It is not without reason (the accuracy is not something I will debate here, but I imagine you will see my position therein all the same) that understanding and wisdom were considered divine gifts in the biblical day, and, I would argue, should still be considered as much. In a society where things are pressured to be ever more rapid and efficient, even perhaps at the expense of quality and depth, being able to get underneath the way things seem on the surface and really grok the truth behind the facade is something that remains underrated in our culture (indeed, you probably didn't think as much of understanding before you read this, now did you?). Likewise, bonding with a person not because you think you have a reason for what they did, but rather getting to the heart of their motives and discovering the reason firsthand, hand-in-hand, is something all too rare in today's world, but certainly deserves to be promoted from its current, highly-underrated state.
Now, you're probably about to tell me that all this is fine and dandy but that I haven't exactly bothered to import a practical aspect that can actually be applied (and practicality is something I'm continuously striving for in these meditation), so I'll get into that here. While it's rare and not predictable to be suddenly (or even gradually) bestowed with a large and apparent gift of divine understanding, it certainly can't hurt to look for it. So, as fits your relationship for the divine, why not ask for it? You have nothing to lose, really; even if it doesn't seem like it, you may receive some over time, and more understanding is never a bad thing. Likewise, whether sending up a requisition is your style or not, you can strive for greater understanding by taking time out whenever something confuses you, or whenever you meet a person, by trying to place yourself outside of your own views and aims and viewing the situation as an outsider (or, if with another person, that person's view) would see it. While it isn't the easiest thing in the world if you're not familiar with it, the mere intent and practice of attempting to see more than what presents itself immediately at any time will likely help you learn, in a training fashion, how to dig into the truth of matters. One could argue that this practice is one which will definitely render payoffs so long as one persists at it, and doing so can help jog oneself out of the typical "runaway train-of-thought" that plagues so many of us in today's hectic world.
I think that about wraps it up. I hope all of this was sufficiently understandable, as I know that sometimes I ramble a bit; all the same, my best wishes go with you and yours as you attempt to shed the light of understanding on your circumstances and relationships. |
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| Sunday Meditation 10/14/07 |
[Oct. 14th, 2007|12:09 pm] |
I just got back from a sermon that really spoke to me. I'm going to share some of the ideas with you, because I think they may do the same for you.
The tale of the sea-tossed vessel from Mark was cited as an important text. The reason was not necessarily to point out how much mojo Jesus had (though we can't deny that he did); rather, the point was to highlight an important concept in the tale. We see the disciples waking Jesus up from his nap in the stern of the boat and asking Him how He could just sit there when they felt about to drown at the hands of the raging sea. At this point the NIV (and many other translations use similar language) bills Him as saying "Why are you so afraid? Do you still have no faith?" However, it was pointed out that the Greek actually lists Him as asking "Why are you such cowards? Have you no faith?" This is remarkably strong language from the person some have billed as the world's greatest hippie. (While it may sound heretical to refer to Jesus as such, the humorous saying goes that He wore sandals and a beard, never had a normal job or a house during his working years, and told everyone that we should be excellent to each other. I find it a whimsical look at the idea of God-made-man, if a pinch facetious.)
Examine this language. Jesus seems here to be saying that faith would serve as an antidote to fear; conversely, when faith is in place, fear is generally not needed. It's important here to keep sight of something--fear serves a genuine purpose in some situations. It keeps us from doing dumb things (usually) that would endanger us or our well-being or even others; it forces us to pay attention to or be alert for things that can potentially harm us in dangerous scenarios. So while the sea seemed immediately threatening to the well-being of the disciples, they had Jesus right there. How hard would it have been for them to trust that He would intervene if it became utterly necessary? How much easier should it have been, having Him right there, than it is for us, with an unseen God?
However, we often fear other things, and this fear becomes rechanneled into aggression so that we do not feel weak. The fear of things unknown is a primordial response; by fearing that which we do not understand, we may be less likely to let it harm us. However, when we fear things that are not to be feared, or at least simply don't need to be, we set ourselves up for stress and potentially hasty decisions that we may later regret.
We usually fear those different than ourselves. If "they" (whoever these people may be; setting up an us/them scenario immediately assumes that "our" group is at least selective, and often superior) have different views, practices, or beliefs, we attempt to set into motion ways to circumvent their opinions and practices from gaining sway or being heard. If they have different-colored skin, we attempt to isolate them, performing a quarantine-by-color so that they will never even come near our cloistered assemblies. If they are of another socioeconomic class, we snub, envy, or idolize them, depending on our respective positions.
This is a statement of what is, but not one of what should be. Separation of groups is something that should ideally be reserved for situations in which actual harm will result if the two remain mingled. This is especially true for faith groups; we are not here to determine who has access to faith and faith practices, but rather we are to welcome others to come and partake, to find sustenance and healing. Denying someone access should only be reserved for when that person causes serious, active (rather than passive) disruption of the journeys of others in the group.
Faith is not knowledge, nor is it blindness. When we realize that the divine truly surrounds us and creation, we do not need to have fear of the greatest unknown ever--the future. With faith, things may not seem necessarily enjoyable or simple at all times, but we can know that things will turn out in the end as they should. It is a risk to embrace the wide, open future and the possibilities and opportunities it may hold, yes, but it is a leap of faith for us to do so, trusting in the divine to be with us continually. We have to step out of our comfort zones to do this, exposing ourselves to the reality of a harsh, fallen, impersonal world--but at the same time, if we only ever choose to remain in our isolated little boxes of what we believe is secure and comfortable, we will never grow and develop--and risk great pain should those things be removed from our grasp.
Faith is a freeing influence--not an ensnaring one. Fear binds us from ourselves, our freedom, and each other; when it is not a necessary inclusion, we should not allow it to hold sway. Faith is several parts courage and several parts hope, with a generous helping of love and trust mixed in--not a blindfold and foolhardy steps in no direction in particular.
My best wishes and prayers go with you as you strive to overcome fear with faith, stepping boldly onto the path you feel is set before you by the divine. |
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| Sunday Meditation 10/07/07 |
[Oct. 7th, 2007|02:29 pm] |
Sometimes I feel keen on sharing the things I think about what I believe. Hopefully none of you mind.
There is a Japanese art known as reiki (often capitalized, i.e. "Reiki") that has existed for the greater part of the 20th century, and which is purported to be usable (and useful) for healing. I am currently investigating reiki because it possesses some intriguing draws that resonate strongly, for whatever reason, with who I am.
I'll give you sort of the Cliffs Notes on reiki; the idea is that there exists as part of the universe a force which we can call lots of things, but which when translated from the original Japanese name, is probably best written as "universal life energy." Those who practice the art use their hands (and sometimes feet) as channels of this energy into others, who are then nurtured by this energy into healing better/more quickly.
I know, it sounds a lot like the Force from "Star Wars," only you don't do any cool ninja tricks with it. However, there are some things about it that I still find strangely hard to ignore. I, for example, have always had sort of a hand-centric awareness. Maybe it's just because they have so many nerve endings; maybe I'm just making a big deal of physiology. Or, maybe I'm not. However, reiki reminds me of the (Christian!) faith healing practice of "the laying on of hands." Could there be a connection? Maybe.
Also, there's this idea in ontology (also known as metaphysics, though metaphysics is often classified as a subset in ontology) called the anthropic principle that states that maybe the universe happened in the way that it did simply so that we'd come to exist--or, alternately, that the only way the universe could have "worked" is for it to have been made in a way suitable for us. This generally presupposes evolution as a part of the universe's history, which I don't personally agree with even though I see how people can believe it. Still, the anthropic principle would make an immense amount of sense if we assume the existence of a divine creator. The world would be made in such a way that we would be able to live in it, and the world would be placed in a universe that fits our little wet rock properly--physics and all.
But here's the interesting thing--even if maybe there was only one way for the universe to exist and function, one set of fundamental physics equations that describe it with the constants like gravity and everything worked out, why does it exist at all? Furthermore, why does it continue to exist? What is it that, as I believe Stephen Hawking put it, "breathes fire into the equations" and brings to life a universe that we continue to live in? In my opinion, though of course I don't necessarily demand that you agree with me, this was (and remains) a result of God's action in the world. His continued action, or at least a persistence of whatever he put into place, makes reality exist, and was the thing that put it all into place at the beginning.
Now, according to Genesis God declared that all of creation was good when he first made it. We're doing a fairly good job of messing it up, but we also work at patching things up, as well. So, if perhaps it is this creative action or medium that brought reality into existence in the first place, and continues to sustain it now, could it be that perhaps reiki practitioners are in fact channeling this substance? Could it perhaps be that by acting as conduits to bring this sustaining and life-realizing force into those who are hurt or harmed, we can restore to them more of the goodness that was present at creation? Could this perhaps be how reiki works, even though it involves nothing but one's hands? The possibility intrigues me too much to let it alone.
Now, even amidst all of this remarkably existential blather that I've put forth, reiki may still be itself a load of bunk (albeit very intriguing bunk); it is for this reason that I am investigating it. That being said, simple touch has been shown to be something good for humans; children who are rarely held when young are often less well-adjusted, and they will often cling to others for reassurance. It is considered proper practice for reiki practitioners to try to project love and light and goodness and so forth into what they are doing, and as mentioned before, it seems quite possible that our thoughts affect our surroundings. With these in mind, it is possible that "universal life energy" or no, the practice of reiki can still be something of a mild boon to those who practice and receive it alike.
There are five principles, intended to be recited daily, which were set forth by the creator of reiki (purportedly in part inspired by the writings of past Japanese Emperor Meiji) that also contain useful wisdom. Though individual translations vary, as the Japanese language is primarily ideographic and can be written in a number of ways in other languages, read something like the following:
Just for today:
(1) Be thankful.
(2) Do not worry.
(3) Do not be angry.
(4) Do your work truly.
(5) Be kind to others.
These seem like remarkably sound principles, and are rather aligned with the views I've historically held, along with those in perhaps other worldviews as well. By trying not to worry or be angry, we save ourselves stress, which causes us real damage over time. By being thankful and kind (and again, by not being angry), we center ourselves in the goodness and benevolence which, I would contest, is intended for us by the divine. And by doing our work the best that we can, we accomplish the most we can in this world with the time that we have, which I've described in greater length in past meditations (and will likely do again some day). And they are wrapped up with the preface of "just for today," which seems a lot more manageable to our limited minds than saying "I'll be this way for the rest of my life." Focusing on fulfilling these just one day at a time allows us to manage it until it becomes a habit.
So, regardless of whether reiki does what it claims to do, I do not find any harm in it thus far as a means of augmenting my own spiritual journey in addition to (assuming it does work) perhaps being a way to aid in the healing of myself and others--which is itself a major avocation of mine. Though I do not expect any of you to immediately go out and start learning about the art yourself, I do hope that the principles of the art will be thought-provoking or even helpful to you on your own spiritual journeys.
My best wishes to you as you press onward, one day at a time. |
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| Sunday Meditation 9/30/07 (Double Header!) |
[Sep. 30th, 2007|12:54 pm] |
I was feeling a bit prolific this morning, so here's a second meditation. This one came from a somewhat random (or at least seemingly so) source of inspiration, which I'll detail below. Hopefully it will be meaningful for you as well.
Recently, a book known as "The Secret," with a rather alluring, mystical-looking cover, has been published, and if memory serves the book was briefly a bestseller. (I can understand this; the book itself just screams at you to read it and find out what the eponymous secret is, and it was somewhat difficult for me to resist the urge to buy it.) Having not read the book, I cannot claim to know the entirety of its contents, but from others I have heard that the main concept of the book is a postulate known as the "Law of Attraction."
No, it's not about what happens when a beautiful person walks into a populated room. Rather, the Law of Attraction runs something like this: "The way you think and act will draw into your life more of the same." It seems such a simple idea, really; we're all familiar with the concepts of magnetism and gravity, and magnets and objects bearing mass (and thus gravitational force) each draw one another together. But does it work?
I would contest that it does. When we think consciously about trying to see things in the best possible light, we are not only more likely to feel better about ourselves as well, we also (I would argue) invite more positive changes into our lives. This operates in a twofold manner, in my mind--the first is that our more positive outlook invites others to see and interact with us more favorably, which is more likely to encourage random acts of kindness, in addition to greater cooperativity and an increased desire to engage in interpersonal activities (which are usually fun and good).
The second way is a bit more hand-wave-y, so bear with me--it's that the way we think can (I at least like to believe, if nothing more) affect the very universe.
I know. Whoa there, Terra, you say, don't go all New-Age on me. Well, having lived near hippies for a very long time, I can assure you I'm far from it, so no worries. Rather, this curious view has something to do with quantum mechanics. I'll try to make it as unscientific as possible, since the science of it was positively dreadful when I had to take it in college.
See, at the very base level of reality--down with electrons and protons and quarks and all that--so very much seems totally random. Energy and mass become, to a certain extent, somewhat interconvertible. It's almost as though ideas, concepts, or something like that, are responsible for making matter remain matter, instead of simply becoming energy--and vice versa. Also, the outcomes of certain events are completely probabilistic--they could happen one way, or another. There is no way to actively predict outcomes, and in fact many experiments suggest that all outcomes happen at once until they are observed, at which point one emerges.
This is something that has always piqued my interest: what is it about observation, about "measurement," that makes reality do this? (For more information, see "Schrodinger's Cat" or the "Two-Slot Interference Experiment," both of which explain and demonstrate this strange quirk of existence in interesting terms.) By observing reality, by taking stock of it and ourselves, we cause reality to "collapse" (that's the quantum physics term) into what we continuously see it to be. So, if observing it causes it to do this, what's to say that thought (which seems to be a necessity for observation; a rock does not observe) doesn't also play a role? If we choose to see things in a good way, what's to stop them from "collapsing" in such a way as to oblige us more often? Other experiments have also been done to try to demonstrate this concept of beneficent thought as a modicum of reality-changing; I can't remember the names of all of them, but one had to do with darkfield microscopy of water samples with positive and negative words (such as love or light and hate or grief, respectively) that provided some remarkably thought-provoking (no pun intended) results.
I would also, incidentally, like to contest that some of these seemingly random events could be a way for the divine to mold "fate" in a certain direction, as it would be an elegant and completely unidentifiable means to alter the universe (because it would require both a comprehensive knowledge of the universe's current state and what would be necessary to nudge it in a certain direction, along with the fact that it would be completely non-distinguishable from the "random" events that occur at the quantum level already). But that's personal conceptualization there, and I provide it merely as food for thought (again, no pun intended).
Finally, we generally find that doctrines associated with benevolent images of the divine generally hold a notion that the divine is always willing to bestow good things and joy to those who seek it. If we consciously choose to think more positively as a means to attract good things, would this not also be picked up by the divine as an invitation to be with us more strongly, and to share with us that greater joy and providence? Conversely, could we not seek to build a stronger relationship with the divine, which would also cause a stronger "magnetic" pull for goodness in our lives and beings?
At the very least, even if perhaps this "Law" of Attraction is total bunk, there is certainly nothing to lose with positive thinking. By looking at the world with a more favorable light, you'll probably have less stress and more happiness, and as such you may also have lower blood pressure and risk for other diseases (yes, there's a correlation). I know that it's rather easy for me to fall into a rather cynical (or at the very least apathetic) view of the world, and this is less likely to do any good for me (Law of Attraction or not) than looking at things in a positive light. (There were some times in the past where I consciously decided to try to view things in the best light, and those times were indeed rather pleasant for me, even considering what I had to do and deal with during those times. I only stopped because of a rather sizable depressive event that interposed, and have had difficulty resuming the behavior since; I'm hoping that this meditation will help me get back into that helpful habit.)
I wish you and yours the best as you endeavour to draw more love, light, and joy into your own lives, and to invite the divine to help you do the same. |
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| Sunday Meditation 9/30/07 |
[Sep. 30th, 2007|12:34 pm] |
Though it won't make up for the fact that I've not posted these for quite a while, hopefully today's postings will at least be useful all the same.
As is often the case, the book of Ecclesiastes is a source of delightfully existential wisdom for me (and for you, too, if you'd like). Having reread it recently, the thoughts in the book are again in my mind, so I have some things to say about them here.
All too often, we hear the phrase "life isn't fair." The funky part is, it's kinda true. We like to believe in karma and so forth because we as humans always like to invoke fairness whenever we're behind; when we're ahead, it tends to be the last thing on our minds. This isn't surprising, of course--usually our windfalls leave us in an elation that tends to wipe out more noble things, like philanthropy--even though we all generally say "I'd give X-percent of [insert random windfall, i.e. small lottery win] to [insert philanthropic organization, i.e. church or charity] if -I- won it like [insert person we've seen on the news receiving it] did."
But I'm not really just here to beleaguer your conscience, since of course we all would have our reasons anyway for not being as philanthropic as we could with something unexpectedly nice. The point, rather, is that it does us no good to try to simply balance the world in terms of fairness. The world will not be fair, in spite of all the things that we try to do to make it that way. For example, the weather is generally nicer here in balmy San Diego than in, say, Nantucket Harbor (from where excellent juice drinks hail, I might add). Is this "fair?" No; otherwise everyone who likes balmy weather should get to live here, and everyone who likes that strange stuff they get on the Atlantic Coast should get to live in Nantucket Harbor. However, real estate people are quite aware of the niceness of this area, and as such 1- or 2-bedroom condominiums here cost two to four-hundred thousand dollars. I don't know what they cost in Nantucket Harbor, but it sure isn't free there, either. Therefore, whether or not we like it, it's not a fair deal for people who can't afford this area but would like to live here all the same.
In classic Ecclesiastes form, the author (who, as I may have mentioned before, is never explicitly given a name so much as a title) informs us that "this, too, is meaningless." One way or another, this is just the way things are, and there's no reason to go into it more than that. Instead, I would postulate, we should try to find ways around the "meaningless" things in life. We don't like to be without meaning in our lives, which is part of why the field of philosophy exists in the first place, but Ecclesiastes insists that we will not truly find it. I believe that this is true; whatever meaning life has is likely too large to fit into our finite human minds, and instead we must give it meaning for ourselves so that we can find satisfaction in it.
And indeed, Ecclesiastes tells us to enjoy our food and drink, and to find satisfaction in what we do, which is in some ways a modality of assigning personal, existential meaning to our lives. We choose what to eat and to drink, because we want to enjoy what we eat and drink, and we (generally) know what we like. We can find satisfaction in our work by choosing something that fits with the meaning we find for ourselves--if we enjoy being a part of a collaborative process with a visible end result, we might do well in construction, whereas if we think our greatest meaning is derived from helping people get well, the health sciences fit us.
This concept of job satisfaction is one that is all too easily forgotten. Though I may (or may not) have mentioned this before, we can do our best work if we do something we find fulfilling. In so doing, we will be serving our fellow man the best that we can, and making the most of the time we have been allotted "under the sun" (as Ecclesiastes would put it). For those of you who have not found that ideal career niche, I would urge you to apply yourself to find it, as it will greatly enrich your life to become part of it.
So, the next time you find yourself contesting that something isn't fair, don't simply allow that knee-jerk response to go unnoticed. Instead, examine the situation carefully: are you responding simply because someone got something that you wanted but did not necessarily deserve (regardless of whether the other person deserved it)? Or are you responding because there is a genuine case of rights and merit involved? Look carefully to ensure that selfish gain is not at the heart of your concern, and proceed with caution even if it does not appear to be. Realize that while some things in life are not inherently fair, you will be seen with more respect and honor if you accept some of the more capricious elements of life with grace and dignity. When you tell people who receive things that you are happy for them, and you really mean it (rather than simply saying it as a "polite" way of doing things), you will find that they will be more likely to share some of their good fortune with you, and that you may well be happier in the long run to boot for being a truly benevolent and kind person.
My best wishes go with you as you strive to find and create meaning in the work of your life. |
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