CTSM 6, 7, 8: pain, warmth, tickles · 13 August 2010
The Hard Way
This chapter repeats the argument that it is crucial to take responsibility for one’s own work, making hard, individual effort (87) and relentlessly unmasking, staying open, surrendering the self-defensive tendencies of the ego. What is new in this chapter is an attitude of religious fervor and use of (it seems) Christian language. CTSM is called a “narrow path” (cf. Matthew 7:13) and described as excruciatingly painful. Explicitly stating the Protestant ethic, the chapter concludes: “The idea is not to regard the spiritual path as something very luxurious….” (104)
[For some of us in this group, I am guessing that the forceful version of the argument will be less credible than the quiet or the systematically reasonable versions of previous chapters. For others, graphic discussion of pain and suffering may be really useful and more honest than anything? I hear a lot of this sort of talk among Vajrayana students. A recent example is Susan Piver’s beautiful, detailed article on the despairs and dramas of meditation practice last month in HuffPo. Sometimes Vajrayana emphasis on keeping it real seems histrionic, or Puritain, to people on the outside. I include this commentary here because the pain and seriousness decrease after this chapter.]
Meantime, the one new thing here is, understandably, a discussion of false heroism. Renegade genius and serious pain are linked. This “heroic” path, which usually involves pilgrimmages and especially ritual purification and body cleansing, gets a person involved in all sorts of austerities and self-affirming discipline. It is a flight from everydayness—one which sets a person up for dramatic highs and lows. Pages 89-90 conclude: “The attitude of ‘heroism’ is based upon the assumption that we are bad, impure, that we are not worthy… We must… be different from what we are…. [I]f we are middle class Americans, we must give up our jobs…. If we are hippies, we must give up drugs…. We think our path is spiritual because ti is literally against the flow of what we used to be, but it is merely the way of false heroism, and the only one who is heroic in this way is ego.”
The Q&A covers topics from the limitations on written teachings to skillful and unskillful approaches to psychotherapy.
The Open Way [ strike The Easy Way ]
In contrast to the “samsaric path of desire,” of achievement and self-improvement (114), this chapter describes the compassion and “dance” that arises later.
There is a phase of practice characterized by a search for miracles and a desire “to be one of the people who has done something… super-extraordinary.” (106) One becomes alienated from family and friends in search of the extraordinary, full of self-concern, and practice gets stale and uninspiring. There is a new search for better practices and teachers. This phase is natural and beautiful, as it was for Tilopa, the student Narpoa finally slapped on the face with a sandal to get him to lay off the seeking behavior and thus let go of its momentum and aggression.
Then something happens. “At this stage your meditation practice is the act of trusting yourself. As your practice becomes more prominent in daily life activiies, you begin to trust yourself and have a compassionate attitude…. [This is not] feeling sorry for someone. It is basic warmth. As much space and clarity as there is, there is that much warmth as well, some delightful feeling of positive things happening in yourself constantly… the continual act of making friends with yourself. Then… you cannot just contain that friendship within you; you must have some outlet, which is your relationship with the world.” (113)
One could instead travel in the direction of achievement and expert-ness, becoming bloated with knowledge, “self-satisfied and aggressive. ‘I know what I’m doing—don’t touch me.’”
But in the other direction is trust, spontaneous joy, and giving. “[Y]ou relate with people, because you no longer regard people as a drain on your enegy. They recharge your energy… you do not feel you are running out of resources.” (115) You can afford to be open instead of working to protect your ground. Because of its essential trust, there is no concern for impoverishment and thus an attitude of generosity. Later other virtues arise: discipline, patience (because non-inspired-ness fades), and ability to see situations as they are. These qualities arise because energy is not being so drained on efforts to maintain the ego.
The end of the chapter includes a discussion of the self-decptive nature of “love,” insofar as love attempts to overcome hatred and darkness, defending light aganst the dark. But love ultimately just encompasses dark and light, good and bad. (117).
The long Q & A covers fear, discusses that compassion is not an emotion but a state of being, and mentions that compassion “ferments by itself. It does not need any effort.” (123)
Sense of Humor
The opposite of humor is the sense of “hard fact” (with which chapter 6 dryly began and concluded). The solemnity of seeing life and spirituality as hard facts, or as a battlefield, actually “relates to spiritual materialism.”
This chapter offers funny stories of monks playing with mice at the moment of realization, dying of laughter, and other absurdities. Seriousness dead-ends in funny. If you “try to impose solemnity… as if everything is a big deal, then it is funny.” (133)
“Sense of humor means seeing… from an aerial point of view. There is good and there is bad…. Then you begin to feel that these little people on the ground, killing each other or making love… are very insignificant… the ironic aspect of their clamor.” (132-3)
Very serious practice, too, is extremely ironic and thus humorous. Trying too hard, with rote solemnity, to have a sense of humor, is itself laughable. So is effort at perfect posture. And ticklishness.
The source of humor is pervasive joy.
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I wrote down quite a few things that stood out in these chapters. Some things of note for me were seeing more into the dysfunctional side of the watcher (where it is not in the moment, but rather mapping past with present and creating alarm and gets stuck – this happens on a daily basis!). So the concept of openness I feel can only be felt when we have quiet mind, not so much blank mind, more space to breathe, like we feel when relaxed with time to spare. Speed is ego etc.
To come back to the cult thing of mine, his explanation of being your own teacher and learning to trust ‘yourself’, is very heartwarming to me. His concept of good psychotherapy as that which deals with feelings and emotions ‘right now’ I would say is where its most useful, because it is in a way the perfect place to establish the capacity to be self reflective with the tools to see and experience yourself, and to a certain extent this does create spaciousness, unclenching from the idea of a ‘bad’ self, and this creates the sense of trust in self, and maybe, just maybe, thats where the joy resides? Once we find our Self, then we escape the big deal? It feels tickly anyway.
Posted by: Gregor · Aug 14, 01:23 AM · #
For what I think are probably obvious reasons, I fucking ADORE Chapter 6. It’s like someone put my seventh series practice in Buddhist language and wrote a few pages. Is it in 6 or somewhere in 5 where someone asks, “How do you open?” and CT answers, “Well if you need to vomit, you don’t ask how, you just do it.” ?
And then the sweet, delicious followup of Chapter 7 is “here’s how you MIGHT elsewise have handled it.”
I haven’t read Chapter 8 yet.
Posted by: patrick · Aug 14, 09:54 AM · #
Ok. This gives me space to say I loathe Chapter 6. I find it self-serious, masochistic and Calvinist, almost in a masturbatory way.
But that’s just me.
FWIW, when we are in a group of experienced meditators, many of them describe something I don’t really understand – a sense of going to pieces on the cushion, the whole body and awareness dissolving in to some kind of movement. Some people experience this as pure joy – effervescence and flow. Others experience it as hell.
Posted by: (0v0) · Aug 14, 10:25 AM · #
Sing it! I like your dislike of 6.
Now having read 8, I like your summary.
Do you know that you wrote “The Easy Way” instead of 7’s actual title, “The Open Way”?
Posted by: patrick · Aug 14, 11:24 AM · #
For me, having a little bit of an “upper” like chapter 7 “the Open Way”, is a helpful thing. Someday, perhaps, I’ll remember to remember that little gem on pg 99 “Each time you are presented with a difficult task it presents itself as a delightful opportunity to demonstrate your richness, your wealth.” Being in a “helping” profession, I come up against this frequently. It seems as though, and I am slowly realizing this, that those here now that can, that have the “richness” of compassion are obligated to share it, and spread it simply because they have it; if you have the capability to help others, then you have the responsibility. Even if that capability came from the self directed and motivated “hard” way (which I believe helps one get to the “open”. way).
At times Ch 7 reminded me of the “Promises” from AA and 12 step programs – a great vision of each humans possibility:
“If we are painstaking about this phase of our development, we will be amazed before we are half way through. We are going to know a new freedom and a new happiness. We will not regret the past nor wish to shut the door on it. We will comprehend the
word serenity and we will know peace. No matter how far down the scale we have gone, we will see how our experience can benefit others. That feeling of uselessness and self-pity will disappear. We will lose interest in selfish things and gain interest in our fellows. Self-seeking will slip away. Our whole attitude and outlook upon life will change. Fear of people and of economic insecurity will leave us. We will intuitively know how to handle situations which used to baffle us. We will suddenly realize that God is doing for us what we could not do for ourselves.”
Sorry to actually put that out there but I am not sure how to link things.
Posted by: e&sj · Aug 14, 07:33 PM · #
Owl.
Yes, that is very true, it is Calvinist, but somehow that ‘drone’ goes through me and away without tightening anything. Do you think he was just projecting his own shadow here and gets his message overwrought (masturbatory) idea from the (probable) reality of the discipline needed to follow the path?
Posted by: Gregor · Aug 15, 02:55 PM · #
Either that or appealing to post-Christians? Or actually adding balance to the message. Or offering a version of a teaching really common in the Vajrayana.
E&SJ, Patrick, yes. Open Way. Not same as easy way. That’s possibly ridiculously revealing. I’ll edit later. Agree 7 is an “upper.” Pleasure – pain – pleasure – pain – pleasure – pain. Merciless teacher, he must’ve been.
Meanwhile, wanted to take the temperature here. I know a lot of people read 1-3, but it’s been quieter for section two.
RE, Susan, Karen, Rebecca, Rebecca, Wombat, Christine, Jeremy, Shaf, Sonya, Sara, Kai, Tara: comments? Should we stay with the past two posts for a bit?
I gather Louise and Christine are on it, along with Gregor, E&SJ, Patrick and me.
Will post on the next section whenever seems best for the group. Turns out, it is pretty informational. Just a more general discussion of how mind words – a discussion conceptual enough to sounds a little SM-y. But not S&M-y like chapter 6. :-)
Posted by: (0v0) · Aug 15, 05:43 PM · #
Bwahaha! Come on Owl it’s not like he said, FEEL THE PAIN BABY :D
Anyway: I was thinking re: Matthew 7:13, doesn’t CT’s use of “narrow path” return us to hinayana (the first vehicle) which I think was discussed in Ch 2? I thought of that as the narrow path, not something exclusive (well, unless taking up the path itself is exclusive).
It’s the “doctor no anesthesia” that sells me so hard on 6. No better metaphor for the last two (or perhaps ten) years of my life could ever possibly be given by anyone, ever.
Posted by: patrick · Aug 15, 05:47 PM · #
I don’t have anything to add beyond what’s been (well) said already. Felt like it was a good idea to shut up for a bit.
Posted by: karen · Aug 15, 06:08 PM · #
Owl Et Al—-
I’m out in a borrowed scamp (the narrow way) in northern michigan (where, in fact, they have wifi). Googlebooks (rightfully) cut me off at chapter 3. J’s parents have boxed milk in here that expired in 2007. YES.
I didn’t want to comment further without having actually read CTSM. But I will respond to a few of the things noted already.
Re: “We think our path is spiritual because it is merely against the flow of what we used to be…” This statement matters to me so much as a diagnostic. My sense is our organism feels the strain of this energy reversal, like when the wind shifts suddenly while you’re sailing, and congratulates itself for it. This is when it becomes impossible to, say, go into conventional grocery stores because they smell like artificiality. It is a kind of degradation too.
ES&J: is the following quotation TAKEN from AA? “God is doing for us what we could not do for ourselves” Does Trungpa posit another agency acting through us or does he just imply that we act directly and effectively— and perhaps even appropriately and spontaneously—when we get out of our own way? Or something else?
To me, one of the most important moments comes here (from owl’s summary):
You do not feel you are running out of resources and do not relate from a place of impoverishment.
It’s that old tune: when we recognize the wealth of what we are, we also recognize that, fleeting as a self or Self may be, we have truly nothing to lose. And that is either the most material or the most immaterial point.
Can we run THAT experiment in our virtual seminar?
Thanks to all of you for keeping the band playing…
Posted by: Sara · Aug 16, 05:36 AM · #
Yes… I actually feel like the bit about energy is sort of deep. It seems so common at first to view the community aspect of practice as an energy drain. Teacher-attention, here, is experienced as a zero-sum game; and being with others is more a drain (because annoying or even sort of threatening) than an inspiration or source of energy. Maybe this is just for natural introverts? In any case, seems a normal disposition, often. And also one that is subverted by practice.
Exception clause for practice with energy-vampires. They are a small proportion, but I'm not denying that now and then there is a community member who takes so much more than he gives that having that as part of community is more Hard Way than Open Way. But maybe the way it works is that at first, most people feel like energy vampires, and gradually even the certifiable vampires are weirdly useful. Some days, I kind of miss Betty back in So-Cal.
I had a similar experience of teaching. At first there was a sense that it would take my energy. The main concern was “not giving too much.” It’s a useful concern, and maybe one that’s especially important in a physical practice. But my experience seems to be eroding the limited-energy mentality. Students give as much or more inspiration than they take… at least around here. ;-)
Can anyone scan in the next chapters of CTSM? If so, let me know if you need the material and I’ll organize an email list to distribute the .pdfs.
Otherwise, those of you who are silent, what’s up? Is the book not worth finishing; did the extremes of Chapter 6 or 7 do you in; or should I wait? I’m also happy to go ahead and write more summaries of future material if that’s useful to anyone, readers and non-readers. Just let me know where you’re at so I can facilitate.
Posted by: (0v0) · Aug 16, 07:48 AM · #
That quote is from the “big book” of AA – page 84. AA definitely posits another capital A Agency. That is a stumbling block for many, and of course, the AA model is taken for all 12-step programs for all kinds of addictions. CT does not posit an Agency/God; this of course, is one of the basic tenets of most Buddhist schools – emptiness or shunya – and CT would say openness as being somewhat synomynous. Of course, one can capitalize it – Emptiness – and then all bets are off. As I understand it, Gautama specifically avoided the question of the existence of God. That being said, the vajrayana (tantra) school seems to describe a whole host of supernatural beings that for some will be taken literally rather than as archetypal metaphors.
Posted by: e&sj · Aug 16, 07:56 AM · #
I found myself squirming a bit reading through both ‘The Hard Way’ and ‘The Open Way’. Louise’s comments from the last post resonated with me:
“I did find the pain stuff compelling, but wonder if, at the same time, that isn’t just a need for those high levels of stimulation that CT is otherwise warning against – the feeling that ‘something is happening’, the search for extremes…” I catch myself creating mental drama and pouring energy into developing a storyline with myself as “victim” when things are not going as I would like…the description of “false heroism” definitely initiated some discomfort.
On the other hand, the chapter on the open way just seemed too nice…too warm and fuzzy. I have the feeling that if I look too closely at the sense of compassion he describes it will disappear; better to let it happen in the fleeting moments when it does and then let the moment go.
I love the ongoing discussion of energy, Sara, Owl et al. It does seem to tie the chapters together. It has also been my experience that this sense that we pull back from openning and putting energy into “what is” out of fear that we will give too much is subverted both in practice and in life. My students give back more than they take from practice daily…and on the days when my Ashtanga practice is most honest, then the practice itself gives back more than what I put in. It’s the moments of “false heroism” and pushing against “what is” that leave me drained. It seems this is something the I “know” intellectually and yet don’t really “know” yet on a more fundamental level.
The chapter on ‘Sense of Humor’ was a moment to let the squirming cease. The absurdities of my morning practice never end and leave me laughing repeatedly. More than once, I’ve walked out of the studio in the morning after practice only to have my husband ask, “What were you laughing about in there?”
Posted by: Christine · Aug 16, 08:34 AM · #
As what seems to be becoming the sole fan of 6 ;-)
Yes, second that, Louise’s closer in the prior thread is great stuff.
I think we might distinguish what I’ll call “letting the ego bleed” pain (thanks Kino for that lingo) from “heroic pain” both in form and in content.
Heroic pain is more elective, more “required” (in the sense of one committing austerities) and more rewarding (even if it is the promise of a next life or whatever). The formula of heroic pain is “This suffering has a purpose!”
Ego-bleed pain is unelected (in my experience), of an intensity beyond anything we’d rationally have chosen in the first place, and seemingly pointless. When one takes an egoistic “I am suffering!” line on it, it becomes so grotesquely self-aggrandizing that it becomes, yes, comedy (!). The formula of ego-bleed pain is, “Lama Sabachthani??!!”
You gain from heroic pain; you lose (and you lose stuff that matters, well, that is until you realize it doesn’t) from ego-bleed pain.
Searching for sensation/extremes (such as chili pepper eating contests or, say, rock climbing, or binge drinking) is all heroic pain. Any statement of suffering that begins, “Dude, this one time…” is heroic pain.
Ego-bleed pain is restless, unending, insomniac, emotional roller coaster torment. When it ends, you don’t want to talk about it or tell stories about it over beer :)
Posted by: patrick · Aug 16, 08:56 AM · #
But in the end, what do you gain?
I ask as someone who used to collect, “Dude, this one time…” experiences. Now that I’m done pissing my pants, the energy is clearly just paper that I can lift off lightly. (None of this is to say that I’m not busy getting stuck on the hooks of other dramas — just that hindsight is 20/20, including in practice.)
Posted by: karen · Aug 16, 11:52 AM · #
Still on Chapter 6…..should be able to finish tonight or on the train ride into the City Wednesday morning at the latest. What I’ve read so far didn’t do much for me one way or the other.
Posted by: LI Ashtangini · Aug 16, 12:18 PM · #
Karen, absolutely! I too have a stack of “Dude…”, very much so. In the specific case of ego-bleeding I’ve done recently, there have been great gains in liberation (which is exactly the same as saying “gains in letting go,” and in that case, does one properly GAIN something or in fact LOSE something?); crap that I’d obsessed about that now I don’t.
Hindsight where ego and collecting the “Dude!” moments are concerned, can be a real forehead-slapper.
I quoted you in the most recent post over at my place. That pissing oneself/lifting paper analogy is PRICELESS.
And finally, because I can not stop verbosity today, the CT bit about one who becomes heavier and heavier “with all the weight of his letting go,” is totally beautiful. I dug it.
Posted by: patrick · Aug 16, 03:01 PM · #
hi everyone
Karen – I’m really laughing about what you call ‘dude this one time’ – is that a reference to ‘this one time at band camp’ from American Pie? Same kind of thing anyway!
Patrick – yes, get your distinction between ‘ego bleed’ and ‘heroic pain’. To step into a different philosophical tradition, Zizek would call the first ‘sacrificing the sacrifice’ or ‘renouncing the renunciation’ as opposed to just the sacrifice/renunication which gets you something in return (as in martyrdom).
I really love CT’s view of humour as being what happens when you suddenly get beyond polarity – seeing both poles at once, the artifice of the whole situation. And I love the hermit who makes his room messy on purpose. I’m sure I’ve done that – make something messy so people don’t think I’ve made too much effort to be perfect! So funny when you see the artifice of the whole thing.
Posted by: Louise · Aug 17, 03:51 AM · #
Hello everyone,
Google Books has cut me off as well. Or rather there are a lot of pages missing after chapter 3. I’m enjoying following the discussion, but haven’t wanted to say too much without having read the text myself … let me know, Owl or anyone, if you can scan some pages.
Re: Sara and Owl on combining teaching and practice (yoga, music, same same) : yes! the more you give the more you are recharged and have even more energy to use for practicing and teaching. It’s like the energy prefers to flow, move around, rather than sit still and stagnate.
Re: pain — a physical practice has a lot to teach us here, too, about facing up to difficult or ugly or PAINFUL situations when we would really rather bliss out, escape, look away, distract our minds by thinking about something else. My teacher told me all last week whilst squashing me into baddha konasana, Feel your pain. Ow. But pain is maybe an opportunity to cultivate a little equanimity? Patrick, would you classify this as heroic pain or ego bleed?
Posted by: Jeremy · Aug 17, 11:57 PM · #
A painful Baddha Konasana squish? Without being able to live in the bender’s head, I’m going to say that thinking “I’m going to get the pose if I go through this” is probably more heroic and something like “ow ow this so isn’t worth it, i don’t care if I get the pose” (but only if that’s actually true) is more bleeding the ego.
Posted by: patrick · Aug 18, 08:00 AM · #
:D
The book arrived in the mail today, so I won’t be needing any scans.
Posted by: Jeremy · Aug 18, 08:18 AM · #
Sorry I’ve been MIA.
Patrick, I’m with you on loving ch. 6. I didn’t read it as painful or uncomfortable at all. I was delighted to see that somebody agreed with me on the renunciation of what is known factor. I almost did that, you know, a few months ago. I had signed a lease up in the mountains and everything. And at the last minute I realised what I was doing… that it’s so much easier for a runner to run. Anyway, what this chapter reminds me of is ashtanga. If I look at somebody like Owl practicing, I think “shit, that’s hard. I’ll never be able to do that.” I remember thinking it when I saw titibasana for the first time. And now I think it when I see the eka padas in S2. Practice is hard. But the level of difficulty never really changes— it’s not like it took an extra push to lift myself up into titibasana, I just kept practicing, and one day it happened. I didn’t even realise until afterwards that it had happened. What I’m trying to say is that you get used to the level of difficulty that you set for yourself. And your difficulties are your own, so they may, after a while, not be as difficult as they would look to somebody else who isn’t in your life.
I love these differences of opinions based on perspective. Like when people who were raised Catholic come to my house and I’m burning frankincense because I like the smell, but to them it’s so much more. Or the sound of waves lapping against the hull of a boat mean my entire childhood while to somebody else it’s a fear of drowning.
I’m away all weekend, but I’m taking my book and I’m taking notes. ;)
Posted by: Rebecca · Aug 19, 07:18 AM · #
Well! Here I was, thinking that this whole thing had grown didactic and it’s time I return to... Owl Whisperer's tactics for inducing temporary insanity, backbends opening more through self-practice than assisted, Ann Arbor food orgies, duck butts, the woodpecker and other evils just outside the mini-shala’s windows, funny and weird meditation shit, this once compulsive nomad’s strange new inability to pick up and take even a weekend out of town, and what it looks like when dragonflies have sex while speeding to keep pace with my gently-paddled canoe. But mostly that. Dragonfly sex.
Maybe dragonfly sex will still be happening next week too. Tomorrow, a really large chunk of Chogyam. It’s a bit less mind-blowing for a couple of chapters here, unless one has never encountered the Vajrayana’s formidable theory of mind. Then it's sort of mind blowing, if within the Lord of Mind. I'm not sure whether to give more Cliffs notes or cut some commentary in to these chapters in an effort to digest them.
Maybe, too, for those who are tiring on CTSM the title but interested in CTSM the method—and specifically how to make our own sense of the stuff about surrender and emptiness—a good time to read the fairly insane Trungpa-Chodron article that Gregor linked a couple of posts back? Probably best printed out, that one…
Posted by: (0v0) · Aug 19, 05:07 PM · #
dragonfly sex: the lord of hovering?
Posted by: Sara · Aug 19, 05:44 PM · #
Also, there is a very RF-like RF audio talk up at the website for RF’s new book, the Mirror of Yoga.
The Rodney Yee quotation most prominent on the book’s back cover suggests that the book itself is a vehicle of yoga as RF defines it: a practice that makes it possible to hold the hala-hala in your mouth safely, not rejecting it but also not letting it poising your whole corpus.
Talking to you, Rod.
But anyway, I link the audio because, one, it features a funny (albeit, to me and I suppose others of the Chapter 7 tendency, facetious) discussion of how yoga is the hardest thing one can possibly do (eyes roll upwards here).
And because, two, the podcast begins with this incredibly optimistic discussion of how the original purpose of yoga is that we deconstruct the ego’s efforts to turn yoga in to an adornment. Basically, RF is interpreting yoga as a CTSM path. Good thing he’s so good at stretching!
Not that I don’t agree. I want to agree.
RF’s inspiring description is the exact same conceptualization of practice given in CTSM. In places the language itself is strikingly similar to Trungpa’s. To clarify, RF’s yoga is—by his own description— of a piece with Boulder spirituality (he mentioned somewhere—I think vis-a-vis the dude who used to run Elephant Journal— that Buddhist spirituality and modern yoga are more or less the same thing).
Is it accurate to say that Trungpa and RF articulate one side of the Boulder ethos (if the other side is beats, hippies, ethical consumerism, LOHAS, and nondual embracing of spiritual materialism)? If so, ashtanga yoga could fit comfortably on the “cutting through” side of things. I love to imagine that as a greater vehicle for the modern practice, hala-hala capsules and all.
Posted by: (0v0) · Aug 19, 05:46 PM · #
whao – a would-be spiritualist in search of his ego’s identity masquerading as a black tar ball. remember the scene when obi kanobi gets skywalker through the gate with the famous line – it’s ok, you can go about your business now. something so reassuring about that little epithet on the nature of overcoming obstacles. we all have a hero inside us. a good hero leading the way. wearing the face of destiny. or a bad hero. product of storm trooper programming. wearing the tin hat of obligatory worship of winged serpents telling folks it’s ok to eat gulf shrimp. yum. yum.
Posted by: charusheela · Aug 20, 10:20 AM · #
Apologies for radio silence. I’ve now had a plane trip to catch up with the reading.
Like Owl, Christine, and others, I found the language in Ch 6 too extreme. With language like “excrutiating pain” “exposing ourselves… taking off our skin” (81), how would one not end up with a heroism/sacrifice complex? And, with Owl, the language (in Ch 4 and Ch 6) picked up all kinds of Calvinist signals for me (per Rebecca, this must be my frankincense). And, while Patrick liked the doctor analogy, I’m afraid I found it grotesque. I can’t entirely explain my reaction, but it really violated my idea of what a doctor should do — not so much the lack of anaesthetic, but the lack of communication. The “trust me, this will hurt, but I know best” — ack! run away! (More on this later…) Putting aside these negative visceral reactions, two things did resonate for me in Ch 6.
First, I have a tendency to think that things that are difficult/hard/painful are good for me. I can see evidence of this in so many aspects of my life (staying too long with a good but incompatible person by telling myself that “relationships are hard!”, choosing ashtanga over other practices, rejecting areas of study that are too “easy”). It’s noticeable enough that my “pain is good for me!” complex (Calvinist, purification, self-sacrifice, etc) is a gentle running joke between H and I (ah, sense of humor!). I wonder whether this tendency is common among ashtangis because, early in practice, there is often grasping to attain poses and ego in doing a “hard” practice. That said, one of the inherent charms of ashtanga is that, by design, it’s for the householder – it works with the ordinariness of life. I like this idea of opening to the ordinary that Christine and Patrick discussed in the previous thread. It helps to undermine my desire to do/be something special or important.
Second, related to Rebecca’s comments on running away, it pulled up short my dreams of abandoning ego-enhancing academia for bourgeois farming (ah, my romanticization of hard, manual labor). Perhaps the real challenge is to remove the ego from my current activities, rather than removing my body from them. This goes nicely with CT’s “the opposite of self-deception is just working with the facts of life” (p69).
Next topic: guru aversion (this is probably a tangent…)
The guru concept gives me the creeps, and calling it a “spiritual friend” doesn’t really help. I’m a bit upset that CT claims that we must have a spiritual friend. I can see intuitively why this is good and necessary, but I remain uncomfortable with the model of guru he puts forward (even with caveats for western audiences). The model contains too much withholding of knowledge by the guru and too much blind trust by the student. This is, perhaps, another conversation, but I think I would be more comfortable with a mentor-type relationships. (Interestingly, not a model that is considered in the Buddhist geeks podcast that Owl referenced from earlier chapters.) I’m not sure why the withholding of knowledge is such a bugaboo for me – I’d be interested to hear if others also find this difficult. I have noticed it in several non-western cultural contexts (e.g., certain kinds of knowledge are not appropriate to share until one has proven oneself, is initiated into something, is a member of a certain class, etc), and it makes me bristle. I think it might relate to the idea of entitlement that Karen mentioned several chapters ago.
Posted by: Wombat · Aug 20, 11:16 AM · #
I’ve been so much wondering how you would respond to these chapters, Wombat.
I feel like your and others’ readings of the first section opened me up, taught me something new about how to read a text of this nature. And then, in that place of openness, interest and quiet self-confidence, there’s this pair of chapters kind of guaranteed to summon reactivity. Both reactivity of the dumber, monkey-fisted aspect of my ego… and intelligent reactivity of some kind of, well, wisdom.
About withholding of knowledge, yes. I think I gravitated to Shinzen as my meditation teacher because he has the most generous intellect I’ve found. But he also dumps tons of irrelevant data on us. Lately I’ve been wondering a lot about the limitations we place on teachers' humanness. Who actually wants a teacher or parent to be fully human? It seems like over and over in different ways, we depend on every kind of teacher to do some withholding out of (if nothing else) compassion. That Owl Whisperer does almost complete self-withholding seems to be the key to our relationship really benefiting me. Our relationship will be complete when I can cope with OW's total humanness, but even at that point I will be mercifully spared the details.
By the way… I’m deciding right now whether to summarize the rest of this book “straight,” or use some opinions to condense what would otherwise be four or five more long posts. I’m usually interested in, and sensitive to, the consciousness behind a writer… but this brings up the range of choices about what consciousness to have as a reader. There are a lot of options about how self-y to be when reading... about how much of the side-bar commentator to keep engaged, or how much to just "be with" the prose the way I would "be with" a storm or a sunrise.
Some people, like C up there, can only speak and write in a self-referential manner. With no mind to communication.
Among those, some people are even further limited. These one can only read self-referentially. Can only “listen” self-referentially.
At the moment, I can’t think of anything more pitiful.
The odd thing is that these same people might actually feel unseen and unheard. Thus the battle to be the overlord of all conversations. Narcissism constantly demands to be fed. But the rest of us do witness others and listen to them, to some degree. The rest of us do have that skill. We notice when someone is just scrambling to take up space. To get seen (at least) by himself.
Humans are incredibly compassionate with each other. When the 1% of natural born narcissists monopolize intersubjective space, others just let it go. Of all the pieces of the ego to go haywire, the undifferentiated superiority complex has got to the loneliest.
It’s ok. We see the show, C. But you leave us untouched. An actor with no receptivity has no touch.
I don’t know about this spiritual friend stuff, but one way or another we all could use a whisperer.
Posted by: (0v0) · Aug 20, 11:41 AM · #
Owl, thanks for that. I think I reacted to Ch 6, particularly, more in the way you reacted to the initial chapters. Fighting it, rather than simply hearing (compassionately) what it had to say. Sometimes that place is hard to find, which explains the tone/perspective of my comments. (It’s been hard to find that place the last couple weeks, which partly explains my radio silence.)
Interesting about Shinzen. Because of your writing about him, I have listened through to his Science of Enlightenment CD a few times. And his openness with knowledge is exactly what I appreciate about it – the removal of unnecessary mystery. But I do understand what you are saying about how it is possible to get too much personhood from your teacher. In a different context, I worry about this advising my graduate students.
Per the spiritual friend stuff. Yes, we could all use an Owl (or Wombat) Whisperer. I am, in my way, jealous of your process. This is one of those things where a legitimate risk of abuse/delusion (as Gregor attests to) can be used to justify fear/avoidance of the openness it demands. I’d like to think that I would be amenable to a Whisperer if I found the right one. Of course, that might require looking…
Posted by: Wombat · Aug 20, 12:40 PM · #
A short comment on “The Open Way”. This chapter works for me. “You are not afraid of hurting yourself or anyone else because you are completely open”. For me, the challenge of openness is fundamentally about fear and risk-taking. It brought to mind both pancake flipping and mountain biking, where there is a need to commit to a move without flinching. Fear/hesitation/non-openness will undermine it (Karen, Patrick, other doers of risky physical activities – do you see this as related to openness?) I can also see this in interpersonal relationships: saying the risky thing but without ego and with compassion. Sometimes I can find this place, sometimes I can’t. Christine found this chapter a bit too nice; I hear you, but I think that this kind of fear-facing can be difficult. Also, I like the idea of compassion being the vehicle for, well, everything. Compassion, both for myself and others, the not reacting, the not rushing to judgment, is one thing that’s helped me identify openness.
Posted by: Wombat · Aug 20, 12:44 PM · #
Perhaps its just because I don’t run in those circles, or perhaps because in addition to all the usual childhood vaccinations I got one from the Church that created immunity against pathogenic gurus, or perhaps I was just born not to trust any human because no one born here (Earth) is special…I just don’t get the guru thing. Are there really any real deal gurus left on the planet? I mean ones that make you wait outside their cave for 10 years before they give you the nod. Ones who don’t have organizations behind them. Ones that would actually know your name, let alone your shadows. The world has changed so and human gullibilities are changing, the curtains have been drawn back and exposed all Supernaturals as simply Naturals (a la the wizard of Oz). I would love to find a Guru or even a Teacher I could call upon once in awhile, but I am not counting on it any time soon. Therefore – its back to path to the Hridaya, and with the Sanga ( thats you) – I and we, will find our way well enough through the stormy samsaric seas. If not, better luck next time.
Posted by: e&sj · Aug 20, 12:59 PM · #
Re: extreme physics, there’s a certain openness to be had in real fear (that you’re going to fall off the wall/cliff/whatever it is) but too often it closes in “getting the route.” In this, openness better comes in moment-to-moment living/thinking (which I think is precisely what CT says).
Interpersonal: you betcha. For over a year I did intense opening interpersonal stuff about which I don’t write much a) because it’s really experiential and won’t carry over and b) because it’s just a BIT too touchy to get into, but an official “hell yes” to the potential of opening in interpersonal relating.
Often I think about Fight Club in the guru chapter. Without the fascism, well, or the insanity…
Posted by: patrick · Aug 20, 04:20 PM · #
hi everyone, I love the comments and discussion happening here. Rebecca – your comments on the relativity of difficulty in ashtanga make complete sense!
On the guru issue, lots of the comments, like yours Wombat, look at it from the point of view of knowledge – ie, the guru has more knowledge and hands it down. I can see that being part of it, but for me where I see the guru as being vital is in the idea of the ‘gaze’ – is someone is looking at you, and you have to accept being looked at and ‘seen’. That might sound a bit creepy – and it does make me feel like squirming – but I think that’s why it’s so essential. If you can’t hide, then you have to open. So it’s not necessarily that the guru has more knowledge than the student, but that they’re able to look at you in a way that you can’t escape from, so you have to open up. That gaze obviously could be abusive/violating – but it should be open, non-judgmental and compassionate in its unflinchingness…
I’ve read the next two chapters and because I didn’t know anything about the Vajrayana tradition, my mind has been truly blown – it’s called ‘vajra’ for a reason! Looking forward to the discussion on that.
I’ve found the distinction between ‘feeling compassion’ and ‘being compassion’ really helpful for my understanding of openness. It takes out the emotional/psychological ‘reward’ which muddies the waters so much…
Posted by: Louise · Aug 21, 01:36 AM · #
Interesting perspective on the guru’s gaze, Louise. When the conversation turned to the idea of the guru withholding knowledge, I thought of analysts and zen masters. Analysts and zen masters don’t tend to say much, if anything at all, which makes for an interesting mirror. In the silence, the analysand/student has an opportunity to really hear all of her questions — and how some of them are silly, self-serving, compulsively-generated, self-evident, etc., etc.
So I like the mirror analogy. And I suspect people respond to the guru with much transference (maybe especially so in the West, where we don’t have religious traditions that instruct us to look within, and where advertising/media keeps reminding us to be hyperaware of our individual external surfaces?).
The guru is a finger pointing at the moon inside, maybe? Not the inside of himself — or of student’s self, for that matter. Our self (absolute), and also individual self (relative).
Posted by: karen · Aug 21, 05:07 AM · #
karen – ‘a finger pointing at the moon inside’ – that’s a beautiful thought beautifully expressed!
Posted by: Louise · Aug 21, 11:26 AM · #
Owl,
This: “Humans are incredibly compassionate with each other” has been lurking in my thoughts since I read it. How is it that I’ve always assumed otherwise? Thanks for that jostling.
Posted by: Wombat · Aug 25, 10:17 PM · #
:
) :) :-)I do sense that interpersonally, face-to-face, people look out for each other.
It’s sometimes even unconscious and neurotic, but we tend to confirm to people the stories they tell about themselves, commisserate and celebrate with them in subtle ways, help them cover for their mistakes, offer parts of ourselves we think will resonate with others… just generally preserve face for each other and support each other.
Women are taught to do more of this (I’ve made space for Charusheela’s embarrassingly unoriginal, mean remarks several times in blog threads), but I feel like all adults except for some hyper-alphas, narcissists (and profs with Asperger’s… haha) do a lot of interpersonal energy-giving. I’m not even saying this “compassion” is good (Trungpa’s student Pema Chodron says _devastating_things about the selfish origins of “idiot compassion”), but on subtle levels if we actually do interact, I feel like that kind of micro-care-giving is a major underlying thing.
The thing that makes me feel most depressed about being a human is seeing the ways in which humans don’t give a shit about each other. For some reason, the biggest heartbreaker for me is our tendency to say horrible things about others behind their backs. Gossip doesn’t bother me, but really hateful or dishonest stuff makes me want to leave the planet. I just can’t really see it (as my teacher has asked me to see it) as an addiction like anything else… a harmless compulsion that will go away eventually. OW is on this now too, since it seems that if I am looking to feel bad about humans I could find a better reason, like genocide or Sara Palin. I suspect it has something to do with how weasely I feel when I hate on entities without actually interacting with them.
What a tangent! This reminds me of an article on the community around Trungpa, linked last week in the NYT....
Posted by: (0v0) · Aug 26, 10:07 AM · #
These excerpts are from a 1990 article by the beautiful writer Katy Butler. They discuss Trungpa’s all-too-humanness and also the creativity in his teachings and the genius in his translations of Buddhist concepts to westerners (exemplified by the second half of CTSM). Everything from here and in the next comment is quoted material.
———————————
“We were all co-alcoholics,” one of Maezumi’s students told the Buddhist historian Sandy Boucher. “We in subtle ways encouraged his alcoholism because when he was drunk, he would become piercingly honest.”
A similar process may have taken place at Vajradhatu in the 1970s, as students attempted to come to terms with their teacher, Chogyam Trungpa, Rin poche, a maverick, Oxford-educated Tibetan exile who was brilliant, compassionate and alcoholic.
Trungpa Rinpoche, the 11th incarnation of the Trungpa Tulku. was the teenage head of several large Tibetan monasteries when the 1959 Chinese in vasion tore him from his native culture. Eager to meet the West on its own terms, he gave up his robes for a business suit, fell in love with Shakespeare and Mozart, and married an English woman. He sometimes lectured with a glass of sake in his hand.
Trungpa Rinpoche taught that every aspect of human existence — neurosis, passion, desire, alcohol, the dark and the light — was to be embraced and transmuted. He called his wild approach “crazy wisdom,” referring to a small but genuine tradition of revered, eccentric Tibetan yogis, most of whom worked intimately with one or two students.
Many Buddhist teachers — even those uneasy with his behavior — admired Trungpa Rinpoche for his brilliant translation of Buddhism into Western terms. Wary of importing Tibetan cultural forms, he first taught his American students a simple, Zen-based sitting meditation. He then gradually introduced the elaborate Tantric disciplines that distinguish Tibetan Vajrayana Buddhism from almost all other Buddhist schools. Students completed foundational practices, including 100,000 prostrations, and attended a three-month seminary in the mountains. Advanced students were ceremonially initiated into confidential Tibetan practices of meditative visualization. Teacher and student entered into a relationship, traditionally more devotional than anything in other Buddhist schools.
Posted by: (0v0) · Aug 26, 10:14 AM · #
“Trungpa attracted thousands of well educated people who soon created the largest, most creative and least conventional of America’s non-Asian Buddhist communities. He counted among his students poets Alan Ginsberg and Anne Waldman, playwright Jean-Claude van Italie,
Shambhala Publications publisher Sam Bercholz, and Rick Fields, author of a respected history of American Buddhism. Based primarily in Boulder, students ran businesses, founded Naropa Institute, an accredited Buddhist univer sity; edited a journal on contemplative psychotherapy; and published a widely read bimonthly Buddhist newspaper, the Vajradhatu Sun.
Yet woven into the discipline and creativity was a strand of hedonistic, even addictive license. Vajradhatu students had a reputation for the wildest parties in Buddhist America. Although most Tibetan Tantric schools clearly discourage “acting out” passions and impulses, Trungpa Rinpoche did not. In fact, drunk and speeding, he once crashed a sports car into the side of a joke shop and was left partly paralyzed. He openly slept with students. In Boulder, he lectured brilliantly, yet sometimes so drunk that he had to be carried off-stage or held upright in his chair.
To student Jules Levinson, a Tibetan scholar and Ph.D. candidate at the University of Virginia, the stories “were very upsetting — that he drank a lot, that he slept around.” Yet at the same time, Levinson was grateful to Trungpa. “I found him gentle, delicate, provocative and nurturing — the most compassionate person I have ever known. I just couldn’t put it together,” he said.
Some students, replaying dynamics from their alcoholic families, responded to Trungpa Rinpoche by denying and enabling his addictive drinking and sexual activity. “I served Rinpoche big glasses of gin first thing in the morning, if you want to talk about enabling,” said one woman, who had watched her own father die of alcoholism.
Others resolved their cognitive dissonance by believing that their teacher had transcended the limitations of a human body. “Trungpa Rinpoche said that because he had Vajra nature [a yogically transformed and stabilized psychophysiology], he was immune to the normal physiological effects of alcohol,” said one student. “We bought the story that it was a way of putting ‘earth’ into his system, so that he could … relate to us, It never occurred to anyone I knew that he was possibly an alcoholic, since that was a disease that could only happen to an ordinary mortal. And many of us were ignorant — we thought of an alcoholic only as the classic bum in the street “
An atmosphere of denial permeated the community in the 1970s and early 1980s, and other Vajradhatu students became heavy drinkers. “I found myself a nice little nest where I could keep on drinking,” said one long-time Vajradhatu Buddhist. who was among a handful of Vajradhatu members who joined Alcoholics Anonymous (AA) in the early 1980s. Their recovery seemed to threaten others. The first woman to get sober was asked to quit the hoard of a home care organization found by Vajradhatu members. “ I felt such contempt for someone who had to quit drinking, and I treated her like a mental case.” said the woman who got rid of her — a woman who has since joined AA herself.
When Trungpa Rinpoche lay dying in 1986 at the age of 47, only an inner circle knew the symptoms of his final illness. Few could bear to acknowledge that their beloved and brilliant teacher was dying of terminal alcoholism. even when he lay incontinent in his bedroom, belly distended and skin discolored, hallucinating and suffering from varicose veins. gastritis and esophageal varices, a swelling of veins in the esophagus caused almost exclusively by cirrhosis of the liver.
“Rinpoche was certainly not an ordinary Joe. but he sure died like every alcoholic I’ve ever seen who drank uninterruptedly.” said Victoria Fitch, a member of his household staff with years of experience as a nursing attendant. “The denial was bone-deep.” she continued “I watched his alcoholic dementia explained as his being in the realm of the daikinis (guardians of the teachings, visualized in female form). When he requested alcohol, no one could bring themselves not to bring it to him.
“When our teacher kept us waiting, failed to meditate and was extravagant with money, we ignored it away as a teaching, although they tried to water his beer or bring him a little less. In that final time of his life… he could no longer walk independently. At the same time then was a power about hint and an equanimity to his presence that was phenomenal, that I don’t know how to explain.”
Posted by: (0v0) · Aug 26, 10:16 AM · #
100,000 prostrations, not 1,000,000 as I claimed earlier.
Same diff.
original link.
Posted by: (0v0) · Aug 26, 10:19 AM · #
While reading all these comments I decided I should get a copy of CTSM from the liberry and read it. My reserve is a few weeks out yet, but it occurs to me to mention an observation that writers don’t write because they know; writers write because they are trying to figure out. Discourse is an egotistical activity, done from a level that might itself fit the ‘materialism’ label. Once a writer knows what s/he is saying, however, silence follows.
I wonder whether CT’s liver held out long enough for him to have found his thoughts. I can’t wait to get my copy of the book.
Posted by: Carl · Aug 26, 11:18 AM · #
Nice! I think you’ll enjoy the book, Carl. And yes, I have been waiting to post because some people have said it took them time to get and read it after we got through the parts up online. But I’m getting a bit antsy…
Posted by: (0v0) · Aug 26, 11:58 AM · #
Jules Levinson taught the Buddhist studies/yoga/meditation as part of Rf’s astanga teacher intensive last June. It seems he still idolizes CT and is in denial of his disease. Its interesting and sad to note that some of the best “talkers” or translators of Eastern thought of that time – late 60’s to 70’s where alcoholics and ended up dying from the disease including CT, Alan Watts and Maezumi Roshi. Addiction would seem to be more powerful than insight.
Posted by: e&sj · Aug 26, 03:38 PM · #
In “Prajna and Compassion” (yeah I got antsy too) CT says that one shouldn’t practice “rough compassion” until mastering all of the prior steps, sense of humor, etc. “This is why I present it so late.” Isn’t there a tricky path to be investigated between decadence and enlightenment? This is what I was hinting clumsily at with the Surrealism comment that I’ll probably flesh out later. 0v0 said early, “And he drank himself to death. Mindfully.” What would it really be, to do that mindfully? I mean, Kerouac was aware of his own fatalism, but that’s not mindful, he didn’t die with the rainbow body and all that. Is it possible there’s something to the “crazy wisdom” that doesn’t fall into denial vs. decadence?
Posted by: patrick · Aug 26, 04:48 PM · #
humanness. is. a. challenge. everyone. confronts. differently. similarly. differently.
similarly. differently. may. we. care. as. much. as. we. possibly. can.
Posted by: Sara · Aug 26, 04:51 PM · #
Let’s not forget to factor in the “we’re geniuses” thing that really seemed to be big among that set (Kerouac, Ginsberg, Pollock, Lowell, Trungpa, etc., etc., etc.) at that time. (And it seemed to be “we’re demented geniuses” when it came to your surrealists, P, though their perspective seems quaint and even more naive when viewed from this far away on the historical timeline, don’t you think?)
Posted by: karen · Aug 27, 04:18 AM · #
Do you think it’s like “genius permission”, then? I’m a genius so if I poison myself, it’s enlightening just because?
I tried most of yesterday to throw my head around the idea (not to justify, but simply to see if I could do it) of mindful alcoholism and I simply can’t do it. Can’t see it as a weird tantra thing, can’t really see it as indifference to mortality, can’t see it as a particularly stout way to “teach” something to students.
I think there’s naivete in the Surrealist aspiration to revolution (which is nicely taken up by someone whose name I forget in terms of utopia vs. revolution) and the reliance on Freudian terms and the relationship with Stalinism, but there’s also a “getting to the zero” that runs through a sort of Nietzsche-Rimbaud-Jarry-Lautreamont-Dada-Surrealism-Bataille-1968-Godard-Situ line that manifests variously as negation, nihilism, utopia, revolution, paradise, and which doesn’t in the least shy away from embracing dark/evil things, and that’s continually fascinating. I think French theory (choose your D-name here) also takes this up in different ways (not to be an utter Frenchie, of course, but, well yeah, to be an utter Frenchie). Because I come out of this dark (and often alcoholic) modernism to Buddhist stuff, I keep trying to see if there’s a link between these anti-transcendences.
Posted by: patrick · Aug 27, 06:10 AM · #
great discussion…I have been thinking on past comments and on my first impression of the chapter highlighting compassion and on others thoughts.
Wombat’s thought “but I think that this kind of fear-facing can be difficult”
...and Louise’s “I’ve found the distinction between ‘feeling compassion’ and ‘being compassion’ really helpful for my understanding of openness. It takes out the emotional/psychological ‘reward’ which muddies the waters so much…”
have really stuck with me since their post. It seems to come back around in the current thread. It makes me think we are all both more “complicated” and “simpler” than the picture that we often try to present. We do as Owl pointed out often recognize each other’s “humanity” both our ordinariness and complexities when actively relating one on one. My own challenge seems to be making the choice to step towards this kind of relating rather than hold myself off and away from it. When I try to view Trungpa in this way, it feels impossible to me to ever really wrap my head around “Trungpa the human” as I will never have the chance to relate in that one-on-one way.
Thinking on his habits also reminds me of his section on practicioners adopting all of what they see as the trappings of a spiritual path/teacher rather than working the essence of the practice into their own householding responsibilites (business people adopting the hippie lifestyle and vice versa). I see a similarity to Trungpa’s students’ feeling comfortable with alcoholism because it was a habit of Trungpa’s. The trappings and habits of the teacher are not the practice. I wonder though, if I had been in their place and in the presence of Trungpa who has been described as having such a captivating personality if I would have been able to say that…
Posted by: Christine · Aug 27, 07:30 AM · #
“Do you think it’s like ‘genius permission,’ then? I’m a genius so if I poison myself, it’s enlightening just because?”
Yes, exactly.
Or, I suppose, oui!
Posted by: karen · Aug 27, 11:22 AM · #
What is a “genius”?
Like, it is a super-human, post-rational, omniscient creative sent from the realm of the unmanifest to assume human form and demonstrate to mere mortals the smallness of our minds and hearts?
Like, a “genius” is every billionth grain of sand that that secretly has a better soul than the others?
Yeah right. There is such thing as “geniuses.” Just like how Jesus was the son of God.
Incidentally, I was just sitting at a window looking out on downtown Ann Arbor, and Johnny Kest pulled up in the biggest, blackest, shiniest SUV (a motor vehicle named after some mega-significant piece of Alaskan topography or another) I’ve seen since Beverly Hills.
Johnny looks like a nice enough dude. There are pictures all over town promoting the Ashtanga studio he’s opening next week on campus. The pictures feature Johnny fondling college aged women. Mindfully.
Also, there will be a teacher training, described as an opportunity to have Johnny guide you in getting out of your own way.
Do you think there will be sake?
Posted by: (0v0) · Aug 27, 03:45 PM · #
Bad owl.
Bad, bad, bad owl.
Posted by: (0v0) · Aug 27, 03:50 PM · #
(But they started it.)
H/T: Kai
Posted by: (0v0) · Aug 27, 03:56 PM · #
The snark that I detect in your bit on “mindfully” adjusting (ahem) college women, harks back to the “Foucault is SO 2005” that first drew me in here. Well done, sister.
So do we toss the book with the booze or can we squeeze some prajna out of this lime after all?
Posted by: patrick · Aug 27, 04:26 PM · #
Poor, snarky Owl: it’s much better to be oblivious! Jonny whooo? And the owl from the 20th looks just like the one on Mr Rogers.
Posted by: Wombat · Aug 27, 09:22 PM · #
I am a genius. I would like to say, by way of an ether-bound emollient for yon prolix pixie, that I sometimes find it burdensome, but I don’t.
I generally approve of Kest minor’s musteline manouvres, although his ridiculous oesophagul-copulatory pursuit of the lissome via the considerably lesser vehicle that is VEGAN leaves me in little doubt that he’d never hack it up here. You have no idea how raucous the empyreal can be when the hard liquor flows.
Posted by: catygay · Aug 28, 12:45 AM · #
The ability of a middle-aged man to make a comfortable living by permissibly fondling large numbers of college aged women is an example of post-ironic SubGenius. The regular kind of genius is terrifically dull and never would have thought of it.
Posted by: Jamie · Aug 28, 06:07 AM · #
So true. Let’s pass the dull loops of eternity with a little panache.
Posted by: catygay · Aug 28, 06:34 AM · #
Minor gods are so easily manipulated. All we had to do was rub the genius’ lamp.
I have been listening to Wombat’s owlfiles all morning. So much more enchanting than my own squawks.
Gotta teach now and do some campus stuff, but since it is clearly time to move on, will post the next chapters when I get back home this afternoon…
Posted by: (0v0) · Aug 28, 06:41 AM · #
Ugh I missed it ALL.
Briefly (haha): W/ regards to ‘spiritual friend’— I think that the language creeps me out more than anything. As I’ve mentioned before, I hate the word ‘spiritual’, and then ‘friend’ makes it sound like a cult of serial killers. Guru is the same for me— it might just be living in LA where I’ve met about fifteen people who have gurus. Gurus who they don’t see very often and who possibly don’t even know their names. I just can’t get my mind around that.
I don’t care that much about information withholding. They do it in linguistics class too, and even if I’d been thrown all of the information I needed for the final, I’d still have short-circuited.
‘Idiot compassion’. I like that. I like that whole conversation. I don’t think it’s a conscious thing though.
Posted by: Rebecca · Aug 28, 08:20 AM · #
dammit. Can you delete the respost?
Posted by: Rebecca · Aug 28, 08:20 AM · #
It starts with lamp-rubbing and ends with liver failure.
Oh but why not have a guru? Honestly, it makes no difference either way.
Of which, this reminds me of a remark made the other day by a more than usually mordant, narked-off Nazarene, young Jesus. He remarked throngwards, ‘I transfigured the water, now all they do is whine!’ Ok, so better with the parables than the party patter but his point was well made. ‘Humans’, continued our resident handyman,‘humans simply want to stretch things out as long as possible, go on and on with their nonsensical prostrations, batty booklearning and self-sustaining, dimwitted discourses on the nature of what they imagine to be the maker of the I-that-I’s.’
Well that caused a real flutter amongst the more pliant of the asparas, but most of us raised our metaphysical eyebrows at the implications of the young master’s (doubtlessly) temperance-induced chatter.
Get this. Other than for sex, sport and adulation there’s no need for us to bother with you at all. And we certainly don’t want your miserable puritanical mugs mucking-up our eternal debauch. We DO NOT wish you success in yoga, which is why we strongly advise you to keep at the jumping, chanting, nose-gazing and, please, continue castigating all the best of your fellows for every felatial foible and well-earned booze up which they may.engage.in. under the extreme distress you dullards induce with your petty-boasting and mean-minded moralising.
Posted by: catygay · Aug 28, 02:32 PM · #
“ petty-boasting and mean-minded moralising”
We are, after all, created in god’s image.
Posted by: karen · Aug 28, 07:19 PM · #
A cruel joke, I know, but there it is.
Posted by: catygay · Aug 28, 11:10 PM · #
But only in the mind of god.
Posted by: (0v0) · Aug 29, 09:47 AM · #
So many rich lines from Mirror of Yoga by RF, one comes to mind here:
“But we must beware, because an excellent, profound living tradition of yoga can still be worn by an idiot as a decoration for his or her ego…” pg 7
Posted by: e&sj · Aug 29, 01:44 PM · #
http://books.google.com/books?id=qoieP3Cza30C&lpg=PA7&ots=AoStqCzeb6&dq=idiot%20mirror%20of%20yoga%20richard%20freeman&pg=PA3#v=onepage&q&f=false
Posted by: e&sj · Aug 29, 01:47 PM · #
The link.
Has the paper copy of the book arrived to you, E&SJ?
Posted by: (0v0) · Aug 31, 08:29 AM · #