Monday, March 10, 2008

Jivacandra on YouTube

I recently posted two videos on that other Google vehicle of virtual self-expression. (The page also links to the ever-popular "Ocean Beach Dogs", which has been up for a while.)

Sunday, December 16, 2007

A thought that has no supports. That's what it's about. But I'm dissatisfied. I am so dissatisfied. I know it's not me that's dissatisfied, not really. I know there's a thought right now with no supports, but I don't want to look in that direction. I know it's in all directions but I still don't want to look right now. I am fascinated, obsessed with being dissatisfied, and the time does go by.

So that's how you are right now: restless. Well ok. There's all kinds of moons and rocks and poisonous plants out there, and they all do pretty well. No sense getting all bent out of shape over it. It'll change shortly. But is it pointing anywhere? Is there someone you've forgotten?

Sunday, October 21, 2007

Here's what I'm thinking, with Kew Gardens video:

Human beings have many options, but to be something other than a human being is not one of them. Because this situation can be difficult, or wonderful, or perhaps just because it’s how our minds work, even those raised without any particular faith may find ourselves involved in religion or spiritual practice.

Religion involves accepting from others that stories which appear unbelievable are indeed reality.

Spiritual practice involves seeing for oneself that what appears to be reality is indeed an unbelievable story.



So maybe religion is easier for those who are able to trust others, and spiritual practice is more attractive to those who prefer to trust themselves. Either way, we come to recognize life as not separate from the unbelievable. Not because we've succeeded in building a pipeline to an external miracle factory, but because there is nothing in our experience that is not miraculous. Forget about the beginning of the universe or life after death. Not even the sensation in our hands, not even the experience of dust on our shoes is something that we could have devised by our own efforts.

Friday, July 13, 2007

Comic Book

Buckley the cat lives at Hartford Street Zen Center in San Francisco.











Sunday, April 22, 2007

Clarification



Thoughts are endlessly diverting and occasionally quite useful, but pursuing them we might fail to notice silence calling louder than the noise and glowing right through it.

Saturday, April 21, 2007

Confessions of an agnostic empiricist


Except in obvious cases of mental illness, we normally proceed as if the mind is reasonably faithful representation of reality. Our habitual thought patterns of logic, cause-and-effect, linear time, personal identity, continuity of spatial location, etc., can use only information available to our minds (in their structure or as sensory data), but with that (presumably limited) information, we generally get on pretty well. We can even predict states of affairs about which we have no direct information, and, when more information becomes available, find that our predictions are correct. So we observe that the world often proceeds as our minds proceed, and this is confirmed pretty much every moment of our conscious lives. So why not say that the mind is a reasonably faithful representation of reality? If the mind had evolved some other way, we'd be poorly equipped to cope.

But based on this view, all we can really say is that our minds are a faithful representation of the aspects of reality with which we've had to cope for life to have brought us to this point. The rest is not really relevant to the adaptation of our minds, so why should it have participated in the processes that have shaped our minds? To say that mind is a reasonably faithful representation of reality requires restricting "reality" to those aspects of the universe that our minds might have occasion to represent. We don't know what the limits are on those aspects -- how could we? So mind faithfully representing reality is not at all obvious. Indeed, if mind were a faithful representation of reality, that would be a situation marvelous beyond our conception.

Or suppose instead that mind is not a faithful representation of reality. In that case, we must accept that there's a great deal beyond mind, of which mind cannot even begin to conceive. Again, the situation is beyond our conception.

Indeed, even a mind that represents a tiny piece or a few gross aspects of reality might be more than we can conceptualize -- who can say what any conscious mind really is, or how it "serves up" a version of reality our experience of awareness, or in what that most intimate, immediate awareness consists?

I don't want to suggest what I believed for years: that consciousness must be in a class by itself as a special thing, leaving other things as ordinary. Just because we don't have a scientific description of consciousness doesn't necessarily make it more marvelous than the things we take for granted (usually with the assumption that we or somebody else has them under control). Every apparently ordinary thing appears to us as an aspect of awareness, and so participates in the same wonderful nature of mind and cannot ultimately be separated from it. What is that greenness when you see green? It arises when light of a certain wavelength reaches the eye, but what is that vivid awareness of green?

On a related topic: unless you've seen things I can't conceive of, you've not seen consciousness without a brain involved. I used to think it would be a disappointing thing for consciousness to be dependent on the physical structure of the brain. Of course that's just a thought, and on a good day I could give it up to go take a bath. But really, what's wrong with the brain? Not pretty enough for the miracle? Too easily prone to damage, death, manipulation by electrodes and drugs? Linking precious consciousness to the body in that way may seem awkward, but why should consciousness be more precious than the body? Why should the two be separable? Where did this idea come from that what we think we understand is commonplace, and what we think we can't understand is miraculous? The Buddhist Heart Sutra says that consciousness is no different from emptiness; that is, consciousness has no special independent being of its own outside of the causes and conditions that give rise to it. I'm inclined to believe that. Why shouldn't those causes and conditions involve the body, as our experience on an ongoing basis reflects?

Indeed, what the Heart Sutra says about consciousness, it says about everything: "All dharmas are marked by emptiness." Buddhism has its own 12-part causal model of how consciousness arises, but I think evolution through natural selection would be a prime example of how everything that exists reflects the causes and conditions that give rise to it, and can't ultimately be separated from them, except as a convenient but ultimately pain-causing simplification (pain-causing because it is only convenient for a brief period before the flux supervenes). If you've ever lost anyone, even an earlier version of yourself, you've seen how consciousness passes. The wondrous aspect doesn't arise from where our mind came from or where it goes, but how it is right now, situated front and center in the world it reflects. The mind and the world as neither appreciably distinct nor demonstrably identical -- is that really a problem?

So I'd say that, whether you want to see mind as limited or not, there is no comprehensible, determined version of our life that is ultimately adequate to describe our experience of it. That we know whatever we know seems rather wonderful, and is just one place to notice the wonder. There is no obvious limit to the occasions on which wonder can arise. Which is not to say that, from time to time, things can't get very difficult for a while.

Saturday, March 10, 2007

Soon as you walk out the door, there's grass


See this right now, as it's happening? I mean, wherever your mind is right now. Not the thing you see, but your actual awareness of it. Where the rubber meets the road, as they say in the US. The coal face, as they say in the UK. See that? What is it? Do you have any idea what that is? (Be honest, now.) Do you have any more idea than a rabbit, as the saying goes? Do you have any way of thinking about what is immediately there? Even any time to think about it before something else takes its place?

I'd say you can take mind for granted because it is granted. If the inconceivably fine balance of everything in the universe weren't supporting your experience, it wouldn't be there at all, not for an instant. "So what?" You might ask -- "If I understand that, what then?" Well, if you get in the habit of recognizing what is granted, that is to say, everything you are aware of, everything you think, every conceivable experience of your mind and body -- in brief, your entire amazing, unsatisfactory, and constantly changing world -- you might not feel so tired of it, or so personally responsible for it, or so inadequate to it. It might not feel so cheap or isolated or disappointing or boring or painful. You might not feel such a strong need to look for meaning or magic or status somewhere else, and maybe cause other people or animals to suffer in your pursuit. You might not need to distinguish so mercilessly between those who matter and those who don't. Of course, if you're just having a ball, or have great hopes or ambitions, you might not wish to concern yourself with such things. But how long do you expect that to last? (Be honest, now). Even if you win, what will become of you and your world? How much grass will you trample looking for a green field?