Process

How is it even possible for me, to write something here which illustrates an understanding which itself is not captured by words? And then to instil within that writing the element of formulation within that understanding which is at odds with the very understanding? Zazen seems to express it but how could I really 'know'? And of course my own experience is only that- the experience which is expressed in the paradox of apparent separation. Without digressing into solipsism, and without dictating and imposing a formulation onto everything, where is the middle ground? The term 'heart-mind' is sometimes used in respect of all this and like all words is both useful and confusing. And so yesterday DC and I revisited in new clothes an old argument we have been having off and on now for almost as long as we have been together. He is an academic and in my fantasy (for all assessments are to a greater or lesser extent fantasy) totally fused in his occupation and identity. Further, the academic process is a web of knowledge ever refined, added to and rebuilt without end in pursuit of expansion of the mind's purview. And this is good, larger than any individual and meaningful. It is not however, reality. Reality is both larger and smaller than words. Our argument comes when for me the lens of this process is placed in front of every aspect of life and I feel squeezed by it. As I push back against it he feels rejected. As my life is informed by my own fusion of Zen, Taoism, western psychology, ecstatic movement practice, work in the construction industry, etc. etc... I write to craft a lens by which the small glimpses of that which defeats capture might be seen. Seen not in itself, for it has no self, but by what it reveals. And always with the knowledge that any realisation / appreciation / whatever word fits best, that may have passed through my being is very partial whilst neither partial or whole. And the thing is that not a word of this is any different to what DC wrestles with in his writing. Where that difference lies is possibly, in the validation of the academy. I do not wish to be dictated to by that which in my school years was as much a filter of ascribed worth as it was a vehicle for growth. Nor do I wish to have every creative floret of life assessed by it. However, I too am very given to intellectual rigor and greatly value this process. It is enough for me to play with words whilst wrapping them in their own limits, trying to avoid saying nothing of value or let them generate their own sophistry. In all respects there really is very little difference between DC and me.

I largely wrote the above before walking over to an EMDR session. What follows in this paragraph is post session, recalled as best I can remember. The focus of today's session was the period between about 16 and 24 years of age where it seems there is still unprocessed fear informing the emotional landscape of the present. Initially the images, memories and feelings are diffuse, vague and not readily available. There is probably a lot of numbing out in it. That after all is the function of compartmentalisation, set aside, don't fully go there, not feeling this, we have to keep this ship sailing. But sticking with the EMDR process images come, felt sense and meaning surface. I seem unable to meet the only available script, I'm not enough, small, isolated, rooms and others disappear to be replaced with black. My head brightly illuminated remains. The pen I'm following with my eyes stops, 'what do you notice?' I describe as above and the feelings of fear and of tiredness, about a 30/70 split. 'Stick with that.' The pen moves and I follow with my eyes. Images across this period of time come and go, a sense of younger to the left, older to the right, the black clears, left to right. The rooms return the people return but I've been erased. The pen I'm following with my eyes stops, 'what do you notice?' I describe as above. 'Stick with that.' The pen moves and I follow with my eyes. I reappear interacting with others, thin, sparse lines of connection form, there's a brittle feeling. The enormity of the task of surviving starts to penetrate, there is fear, tiredness, there's no option but to keep going. I do not know that it is ok not to be enough for the script, there's no other available. The pen I'm following with my eyes stops, 'what do you notice?' I describe the brittle connections, feeling not enough. I add '...and I wasn't enough, I couldn't inhabit the available script'. The sequence and timings written here may be slightly muddled, but the tone is close enough. Somewhere in the process the split of fear and tiredness shifted towards 50/50. The aloneness, heavy and dark shifts with lighter periods of connection and progress and threaded through all of it is determination. As the session draws to a close after similar cycles I'm aware that the erasure, from today's vantage point where so many other scripts are available including the transpersonal, resonates less with fear and more with liberation. But this vantage point was only reached after traveling in the boat of the erased. At the time it was out of range. I'm sure the coming weeks will see the process continue.

Saturday, DC and I visited the Bowes museum to see the Vivienne Westwood and the Norman Cornish exhibitions. Both vibrant with the wider creative life force yet very different. The Westwood I notice is mainly of clothes for women and I note that there are more opportunities for women to dress up in more different ways. Dressing up hasn't really ever featured large in my style. The Cornish exhibition is virtually alive- the sketched figures seem almost in motion and totally at one with the culture and environs in which they resonate. I casually wandered past resident exhibitions wondering vaguely about aliveness, the wider erotic and sensuality just short of sexuality. Later I would play about with this territory in 'conversation' with an AI. Setting up the scene with it and feeding it previous posts it did generate some interesting depictions of what I was circling. I particularly liked this:

The beautiful is the appearance of harmonious vitality within a relational field. The erotic is that same harmonious vitality experienced as participatory and generative. Sexuality is one possible flowering of that participatory vitality.

I think it was probably my poem, 'Returning' from the 7th July that put it on the map! What I think is at the root of this is life's deepest desire to express. And how can we as human beings be the conduit for the richest expression? Illuminated and illuminating. What is it that remains after the erasure? What resolves in the synthesis of the diversity depicted in the above paragraphs? What remains to be resolved? What flowers in both the resolved and the unresolved?

Love

If Whitman sings the body electric

I might say smooth creamy vibrant

Grounded and flying, still and whiplash fast

Sharp and flowing gentle as good night or morning

And a day full, all liminal in fullness

Then fear is tight, constricted, like fragile glass

The very breath feels heavy

As if to weigh down the too light body

Where it should float the vibrant smoothness

And breathe... Tight, foothills of panic, tension

Cheeks blow

Mind notes parasympathetic

Bright mind where aligned is flowing

Like Whitman's choir singing

But here stalled and waiting

Fear drives each slow step, twilight

Cheeks blow

Mind notes parasympathetic

Breathe

The smoke of his once-ness, in the beginningless now

This is not the liminal of fullness

Past comes into present

Present orchestral in hues of vibrant smoothness

Though yes, still shot with fear of broken glass

And so another turn around the spiral

Yet tomorrow

The very air sings the body electric

Liminal in fullness, bright mind dances

Joy as it turns the diamond, in Indra's net it sparkles

Sharpest thoughts, the fastest flowing

Liminal in fullness, body whiplash fast

Then earth and sea too sparkle

Gentle flowing as fire rises

The body breathes

The smoke of his once-ness lost in its embers

In each body our embers sparkle

Glow in each other's light and turn the diamond

And so another turn around the spiral

The Koan

 The koan arises naturally they say, and this way of looking at life is I think, worthy of some consideration. My koan is certainly tied up with fear. Fear which is closely tied to an appreciation of emptiness. It was by study of Zen Buddhism that I gained some clarity into the spiritual significance of what had previously been only a psychologically informed appreciation of my experience. Buddhism brought a wider philosophical understanding and the prospect of a greater peace than had been hoped possible. And more than this it brought a much greater depth and level of meaning to my life. Zen, by cutting straight to the heart of things with its uncompromising attitude to reality made what had been dimly understood and greatly felt and feared into a purpose. My understanding that things are so transient and vulnerable, clarified by the language of Buddhism as dependent origination, emptiness, made access to non-duality in the everyday a positive prospect. Couching this as the koan if I remember to see it that way, makes everything fuel to the fire of enlightenment. Through meditation both on and off the cushion and trying to keep to the precepts my experience might widen and deepen leading to a more compassionate, enriching life.

 Recently DC was talking about transcendence and perhaps having my koan in mind to some extent, I responded that those with an understanding of the spiritual significance of this are generally reluctant to speak of it for fear of doing harm, and he concurred. Altered states of consciousness, whether through meditation, music, dance, sex, alcohol or other drugs seem to have been a part of human experience for a very long time across many cultures. The harm or good any of this may cause depends upon intention, degree of awareness, precise details of the activity and energy expended. User beware! Let's consider that list a little: meditation, music, dance, sex, alcohol and other drugs. The first four have a history of links with spiritual practice, alcohol is a suppressant which blunts awareness and other than in small quantities to 'take the edge off' and promote a relaxed social mood is off very little benefit and can do a lot of harm. Drugs are numerous and dangerous. Some have a history of links to spiritual practice but generally not that held by established sanghas. Interestingly, there are current medical trials of psychedelics to help with anxiety and depression although they are not available as treatment options at this time. Aldus Huxley wrote of the 'reducing valve of the mind' and whilst I think we need take care with this notion there's something in it. Altered states of consciousness and transcendence have their place and if approached with the intention to surrender the self to the reality of the universe without craving experience can lead one to realise Buddha nature understanding that it's not an individual one but One that is. And then we return to the koan in daily life. Chop wood and carry water. These two aspects of life, form and emptiness, the mundane and the profound might be seen as an axis upon which I sit and struggle with fear, confusion and failing to keep the precepts, enjoy the vibrancy of life and its sensuality, play out past and create further karma... The koan unfolding. Unless any of these musings or the practices to which they refer result in greater compassion and ability to live happily causing minimal harm then they are at best useless but perhaps amusing and at worst harmful. Thankfully, the Buddha's recommendation to follow the 'middle way', steering us to the 'heart mind', does I believe, make the koan as indicated above, everything fuel to the fire of enlightenment. Which, when held by and holding the everyday struggles is an awfully magnificent prospect. The hour by hour experience is far less lofty.

I'm reading The Wild White Goose, the diaries of Roshi Jiyu Kennett during her time in Japan. There's a section in which the koan is discussed. Jiyu comments that people receive their koan at different times. This idea (of their koan) probably needs some 'unpacking' but the diaries don't go there and I don't feel confident to say much more than that the basic idea seems to match my experience. Jiyu goes on to point to the relationship of the size of the koan, the time one's had it and their degree of spiritual development. (The words used here aren't exactly hers, I'm aware that this sentence is fraught with possible confusion and it's difficult to be clear about the nature of temporality.) In this way of looking at things I think I may have received my koan at birth. I was induced, it was a difficult labour and I was cot nursed for the first couple of days. I imagine this was a stressful entry to the world. But who knows? I developed into a sensitive, cautious child. The koan was given further complexities as I developed OCD at about 9 years of age and realised I was gay at about 13 or 14. So, an interesting 'grab bag' of karma which by placing me in some respects outside the 'norm' has I think, given me or forced me to gain insight. These days I'm hard pressed to say where the size of my koan and the level of insight and/or spiritual development (that's not the right word) and the unfolding karma leave me. But such is the nature of koans.

Who is struggling to surrender?

 I really struggle with surrendering to what is. To truly surrender is not to give up or run away or at the other extreme to attempt to control. Both these extremes being the same axis of trying to keep experience as one would like it. Give up and look up a monk I know says, pointing to addressing what needs to be and can be addressed and accepting what comes. Formal meditation improves awareness and the ability to just be with what is without adding. Recent years, being so stressful have seen me let formal sitting slip, although I'm gradually feeling back into the call to sit and also resistance to it. I will be more inclined to sit when I get a better space for this set up at home and not just in a corner of my study. And that's a whole other story- the effort required to get the house more in shape.

In a way, the above paragraph is enough- whatever the nature of reality, everyday life does come back to how we deal both practically and emotionally with what arises. But within that which informs our approach is I think, a belief system and fundamental to that the very nature of reality. A key part of this for me at the moment seems to concern our Buddha nature. The scientific approach recognises that we cannot know the nature of reality except though the apparatus available to us (including our own senses and faculties) and so is not so different to sunyata in Buddhism in many ways. And there is great debate in the scientific and philosophical  communities about the nature of consciousness. Is the unknowable void- the unborn which is the unity of reality from which everything comes- synonymous with consciousness? Are we that which cannot ever be destroyed because it is uncreated and is that which is both the seen and the seeing (there being no separate self doing the seeing)? And thus is it so that after death of the physical body whilst there is no individual self which (as say a soul) passes to some other realm, there is that which in the non-dual realm (of the unborn) both exists and does not exist (depending upon how we attempt to bridge the absolute and the relative in our 'understanding') and is 'continuous' before our birth, during our life and after our death? Plainly the material of our physical body and the cause and effects of many threads making our life have this quality. Life is like grandfather's hammer. But more fundamentally, is consciousness not just an emergent property of complex arrangements of matter- itself an aspect of the unknowable void- I cannot see that any other way- but actually the ground of matter? Does consciousness come out of matter or matter out of consciousness? They're interdependent of course. And so we return to sunyata...

I'd hoped years ago that one day I'd see very deeply our true nature- not just see sunyata cognitively and through my experience of everyday life, not just through the vulnerability and made-ness of everything or even just the pregnant with possibility of each moment but a deep and liberating experience of the unfolding moment. There have been I think, glimpses. But I'm really still very very much an afraid self. A deeper Self if I can use that way of summarising the above ie at the very least a transpersonal self and more deeply Buddha nature (is there a difference?) whilst in the 'mix', is not to the fore; there's not much playful samadhi, there's constriction. And this invites the question- what do I really believe?

Fungi Web of Life

DC and I have not long since emerged from the cinema. We saw 'Fungi Web of Life' featuring Merlin Sheldrake. The film co-opts our usual aesthetic to show the beautiful forms and colours fungi can make. Of course it would have been possible to show more cringe making pictures but that wouldn't have fitted the narrative. This isn't to suggest that I don't agree with the premise of the film, fungi are fascinating and as beautiful as any other part of nature. It's just that I noticed a certain construction in the film. A thought came to mind as it was pointed out that industrial scale deforestation is destroying not just the above ground forest but also vast swathes of underground fungal networks which contain huge amounts of information which we'll never be able to learn. This is the case with so much of the natural world we destroy. The thought - we have created a fungi like structure and let it loose in our world and now we have lost control of it and it is controlling us- capitalism. Fungi is an ancient life form and it has survived many environmental changes over earth's evolution. Different types of fungi will have had their period of time, come and gone, but the kingdom of fungi has sustained. Will it survive mankind? Will we sustain? At this time we really are dicing with death yet as a species we seem unable to significantly change our behaviour.

Fungi can terrify me. They rot wood! Childhood family trauma caused by building structural timber decay is very much part of my trauma history. And the nature of fungal hyphae and mycelium- spreading out taking and following the form of that which it consumes without itself having any centre of control is the stuff of nightmares! As Sheldrake is fascinated by fungal creation I am appalled by it's capacity to destroy. This is of course an essential part of nature- without it the world would be full of dead wood and the nutrients for future growth locked up. And so I have to settle myself, just keep the water away from wood we want to stay as wood! Water is the heart of life on this planet and it was interesting to hear in the film that there are aquatic fungi. These are even less well understood than land based fungi. Water is an element us engineers are constantly controlling as best we can. Again not entirely satisfactorily...

There's something about the flow of evolution and the waxing and waning of forms at various levels which leaves me feeling exposed. We all feel this to some extent and so we grip on to what we like. This film has left me feeling both this need and its futility. There is possibility in the amorphous.

Not an unending end

On Sunday DC and I enjoyed a good dance session. Another UoN Prof., Lars was there and we invited him back for a simple supper. It was a nice evening. At one point the conversation turned through various philosophical areas and by various means we found ourselves describing what for me is likely a major part of my koan. Simply put it is the experience of amorphous annihilation; one is rendered one with an amorphous suffering, there is sufficient self left to experience this yet there is only chaos. There is the pain of fear. This is a dark 'space' and one apparently pointed at by various religions. The most frightening part of this can be described as an unending end. Obviously we looked up and out at our reality and were thankful that such was not in the moment our experience. Reflecting upon this I could see there was a resonance for me; something meaningful was being articulated but it remained unclear. How does this sit with Buddha dharma? What aspect of my karma is there here to appreciate? I decided to take refuge in my friend Mugo. In a short discussion with her yesterday I was reminded that the conditioned self fears annihilation but it is not possible to destroy (unconditioned) consciousness. It was a helpful discussion. The Heart Sutra was referenced and in the evening I revisited the text of both the Dimond and Heart Sutras to rekindle my understanding. Yes, I thought- the mirror of consciousness 'reflects' the experience yet as a glass is not wet by the water it holds, it is not that experience. 'My' Buddha nature is not destroyed. It is this relationship of conditioned self and true Self / Buddha nature which is so easy to muddle up in thought and feeling, especially when I am frightened. All forms change. They are transient, arising and passing. 'I' as a conditioned being change moment to moment and exist, as is so eloquently described as a reflection in Indra's net. What eludes 'my' experience so far is the mirror and the reflection as One rather than the partial view (of an insubstantial self) described above. There have I feel been glimpses and I am all too aware of our impermanence and my mind like those who imagine unending ends is given to the fearful projections of a self who knows this yet can't identify with that which is deeper. Although all this sounds gloomy I am heartened by the reminder that these fears are projections and not prophecies of eternal suffering. I am grateful for the wisdom element of this and open to the prospect of playful samadhi. I imagine that as a baby, induced for medical reasons, born with forceps and then placed in a cot rather than with my mother there must have been initial experience which was understandably distressing. Later as a sensitive child there were likely more glimpses of emptiness which were too frightening to absorb so as to see the arising / creative as well as the passing / destructive. I've read that emptiness is not the best place to enter a discussion of Buddhism and that compassion is a better gate. But for me the illustration of the unconditioned as the fullness of emptiness was and remains the heart of peace. If I had I encountered Buddhism as a child I wonder, how would my appreciation of the dharma have been able to ripen? Pointless speculation. Generally, although there are times of great distress I do bounce back to equanimity sufficiently to observe without entirely becoming such distress. And thankfully things are generally good. The depths of reality need not fill me with anxiety.

Reading the above I see it's clumsy and too wordy. The main take home is that I needed to be reminded that I can trust our Buddha nature. There is some degree of faith required here. Not faith in anything or one but faith nonetheless.