Awake in This Life

I was impressed years ago when I read Paul Kennedy’s book, Preparing for the 21st Century. In it there is a chapter on the dilemma that the US faces: whether or not it has the capacity, or desire, to adjust to a changing world.

Among the many topics that fascinated me, none was more powerful than the idea surrounding America’s ability to mobilize and meet military challenges anywhere in the world within forty-eight hours. This global reach and access to “hard power”, as Kennedy puts it, has its limits and its costs, however. Just because the hammer works well, as the cliché goes, doesn’t mean that every problem is a nail.

So in the International Herald Tribune this morning, Kennedy writes about the potential for the US to begin using “soft power” as a way of getting its needs met. In my reading, I was struck by how his description reminded me of what enlightened communication might look like geopolitically:

What the next president needs to do is recognize clearly what the hopes are that have made him so popular in so many different parts of the world: the African hopes that he will give real help to their troubled continent; the desires across Latin America that he will keep to liberal policies on trade and immigration, offer to ease the impasse with Cuba, and pay their region real respect; the yearnings in Europe, Canada and Australasia that he will take seriously America’s obligations toward international institutions and treaties, including environmental and anti-protectionist commitments; and the moderate-Arab hopes that he will offer more than lip service to the Palestinians.

Let’s hope that opening replaces closure and power can manifest as something that serves to increase the world’s consciousness as opposed to something that serves the one-sidedness of egoic self-interest.

This goes along with what I mentioned in yesterday’s post about Buddhism losing traction in the East. What’s the best way to get people back into the temple? Maybe a little messianic mythology and claims of reincarnated Buddhas could inspire clinging and attract droves of faithful.

Who knows? Most importantly, who is it that cares? Get to the root of that question and one can’t help but see that we are all Buddhas.

In a a recent post over at Intent Blog, Deepak Chopra writes about taking a vow of non-violence in his thinking, speaking and his actions in front of an audience of 500 people at a plenary session of The Alliance for a New Humanity.

I told them if they were ready to take this vow, they should stand up.

People stood up, one by one at first, then in groups of twos and threes, and finally in tidal waves, until more than 450 people had stood up and taken the vow.

Following this, everybody agreed to have at least two people in their lives take the vow. The two in turn, would have two others join them in taking the vow. Our immediate goal now is to get 100 Million people across the world to take this vow. In the meantime, we will be setting up ways to measure and support the dramatic effects this tidal wave of shift in consciousness is going to create.

While I have tremendous respect for Dr. Chopra and the work he does, I think he is walking a dangerous line here. Based on his words, he’s conflating his “vow” with “attachment”. And to make matters potentially disastrous, he’s collectivizing the attachment by asking others to stand and publicly make the same vow with him. This tactic usually leads to deeper suffering since the purity of its intention can so easily mask an attachment to an outcome. Of course the goal is a good one. Yet in situations like this, well-meaning but confused practitioners begin to cling to their vows and then turn them in to instruments of what may very well end up looking like Spiritual McCarthyism.

There is a way around this trap. Instead of encouraging people to metaphorically sign a loyalty oath, Dr. Chopra and the rest of us who teach should encourage our students to become deeply intimate with the violence in each and every aspect of life. We should encourage all beings to look carefully at the impulses that lead to violence in our speech, our thoughts, and our actions. Doing so allows us to make vows for peace rather than making vows against violence. Making a vow against anything gives birth to both fundamentalism and war.

Bill Maher speaks of his newly released film, Religulous:

I don’t use the word “atheist” about myself, because I think it mirrors the certitude I’m so opposed to in religion. What I say in the film is that I don’t know. I don’t know what happens when you die, and all the religious people who claim they do know are being ridiculous. I know that they don’t know any more than I do. They do not have special powers that I don’t possess. When they speak about the afterlife with such certainty and so many specifics, it just makes me laugh.

I’ve written and spoken at length about this over some time. Again and again I’ve argued that I’m pretty certain that certitude leads to war. Or in spiritual terms, that attachment generates suffering. The problem is that Maher’s certitude makes him sound like a fundamentalist in rationalist’s clothing:

People can tell you, “Oh yes, when you get to Paradise there are 72 virgins, not 70, not 75.” Or they say, “Jesus will be there sitting at the right hand of the Father, wearing a white robe with red piping. There will be three angels playing trumpets.” Well, how do you know this? It’s just so preposterous. So, yes, I would like to say to the atheists and agnostics, the people who I call rationalists, let’s stop ceding the moral high ground to the people who believe in the talking snake. Let’s have our voices heard and be in the debate. Let’s stand up and say we’re not ready to let the country be given over to the Sarah Palins of the world.

To be fair, I agree with much of what he is saying, and, let it be known that have not seen the film yet so feel free to discount my premature commentary. Our baby daughter came down with a slight bug so my wife and I have been home-bound, which has forced us to watch a selection of Tivoed mediocrity instead of getting to the theater. That said, reviews and Maher’s own comments seem to center around his clinging to his version of what is false. We call this “fundamentalism.”

More to come.

Deepak Chopra compares Sarah Palin to the shadow of Barak Obama in a recent commentary:

Palin’s pluck has been admired, and her forthrightness, but her real appeal goes deeper.

She is the reverse of Barack Obama, in essence his shadow, deriding his idealism and turning negativity into a cause for pride. In psychological terms the shadow is that part of the psyche that hides out of sight, countering our aspirations, virtue, and vision with qualities we are ashamed to face: anger, fear, revenge, violence, selfishness, and suspicion of “the other.” For millions of Americans, Obama triggers those feelings, but they don’t want to express them. He is calling for us to reach for our higher selves, and frankly, that stirs up hidden reactions of an unsavory kind.

His essay is worth a read since doing so reminds us of how sticky politics can be for any of us. Then again, anyone on the Path can let the attachments, both gross and trivial, point them in the direction of Awakening. Watching our clinging, in other words, offers us disidentification from whatever our attachments might be.

I admit that I was transfixed by the Olympics last night. It was amazing to watch Michael Phelps and Usain Bolt do the impossible.

But I Tivo’d Rick Warren’s interview with Obama and McCain last night and upon my early morning review, and then listening to the Sunday Morning TV Gab, I came away with an interesting mix of feelings.

First of all, I’m interested in how many Americans are truly interested in the depth of a candidates religious convictions and what this might or might not imply.

Further, what does it say about a person running for office if they cling to the ideas that support a mythic god?

Then, to what extent, and in what capacity, should those of us who don’t cling to a mythic god care about what the candidates said last night?

Michael Paulson of the Boston Globe writes well about the event, as does Andrew Sullivan.

While I happened upon this discussion late, I liked it very much. Both men are intelligent, passionate and polite.

In their exchange Harris, author of The End of Faith, establishes a definition:

I think that faith is, in principle, in conflict with reason (and, therefore, that religion is necessarily in conflict with science), while you do not.

Sullivan, author of The Conservative Soul, goes with this:

Agreed. As the Pope said last year, I believe that God is truth and truth is, by definition, reasonable. Science cannot disprove true faith; because true faith rests on the truth; and science cannot be in ultimate conflict with the truth.

Of course, it continues on.

Despite their eloquence, however, I’d have to say that they miss the holiest (if I may) of all points. The problem is not that either one of them is necessarily right or wrong, it’s that they are both looking at the reality that both faith, and faith-in-God, point to as something outside of this very experience. It seems that Harris clings to the notion that God is a lie that exists out there in the minds of those people. Sullivan clings to the idea that God is the name and form of omnipotent truth. Either way, both cling to a version of their personal truth and are thus establishing the very boundary of separation that will keep the mind in control of the search. This is what Buddhist teaching suggests will build the inertia of attachment. And attachment causes fundamentalism to arise no matter whose “truth” it is that one seeks to defend.

There is much more as both Harris and Sullivan carry on. Enjoy.

On beliefnet.com today Deepak Chopra blogs:

In any system of organized religion, belief trumps first-hand experience. Such an experience, when it is truly spiritual, brings a sense of universality, far beyond our concepts of race and creed.

Interesting echo of the section from p. 72 in AiTL, titled Anger and Dogma.

So often it’s suggested that fundamentalists are at the root of the majority of the problems facing both this country and the world. I couldn’t agree more. Except that those making this suggestion can obviously be guilty of the same unconsciousness they see in others.

An author I know makes this case in his new book:

Fundamentalism arises when any religious organization, or any person, attaches so intensely to some version of truth that it must be defended. In this space, the ego continually seeks security by playing out its drama of “attack and defend.” This drama offers all sorts of teachers and practitioners an opportunity to commit to various forms of separation where an attitude of “we’re right and they’re wrong” not only rules, but begets more attachment. This space can sow seeds of terrible violence all in the name of the collective egoic version of what it deems sacred.

So who is it that’s getting fundamental, really? Surely anyone in the midst of defending a position runs into this trap. It’s like the moment any experienced meditator begins to attach to non-attachment, he finds himself immediately thrown into the contraction of an ego that sees itself as Awake. Defending that which doesn’t need any kind of defense lures us into the same trap.

Here’s an excerpt from an interesting article that Digital Dharma got from Utne Online:

To some people, the word “Christians” brings to mind conservative, anti-everything culture warriors. Others think of peace-and-justice activism or the Civil Rights movement. In fact, the U.S. church has long been divided along theological, cultural, and political lines—and the different groups have tended to keep their distance.

The Tibetan spiritual leader, appearing at Lehigh University in Pennsylvania, offered a defense of Islam in response to a question about the rise of violent religious fundamentalism. He added that he has made a point of reaching out to Muslims since the attacks of Sept. 11, 2001.

Those who see worldly life as an obstacle to Dharma see no Dharma in everyday actions; they have not yet discovered that there are no everyday actions outside of Dharma.

—Eihei Dogen

The purpose of Zen is the perfection of character.

—Yamada Roshi

When clarity and commitment create enough cracks in the walls of ego’s defenses, Spirit starts to shine through each of us as Enlightenment. Our practice becomes a simple, continual, and intentional study of our own small self, and through this work we begin to see how trivial the small self’s wants and needs actually are. Knowing this triviality first hand allows us to let go of our attachments to the entire system that our small self has established over time. In this Divine disaster, we begin to expand spiritually into an embodiment of being that is enlightened by all things. This confluence of the manifest with the Unmanifest, this merging of form and Emptiness, is our True Nature realizing itself through us as all things. And in this creative confluence of Spirit in the world, our Original Face wears an infinite smile.

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