The “human condition” is diagnosed differently depending on where in time and place you happen to be. Some traditions regard humans as having fallen from some state of paradisal perfection, separated from what we once were or one day might be. Others invoke metaphors of brokenness, corruption, dislocation, or captivity – hostage to diabolical forces that tempt and afflict us with suffering.
As with most things religious and mythological, misunderstanding begins as we take such metaphors in their straightforward literal sense.
In their own way, each vantage-point provides an angle on the problem. And yet, should we add them all together, a true understanding would still elude us. The reason for this has to do with the nature of metaphor itself, which is not just another way of naming or describing something we already know objectively.
Metaphors “carry” (phorein) an essentially ineffable experience “across” (meta-) the threshold of language by means of images and archetypes (“first forms”).
Separation, dislocation, fall, brokenness, captivity and corruption are intended by the mythopoetic imagination to depict a more primary experience – that of being human. Once given form, these metaphorical images elicit further reflection, expansion, and embellishment, eventually establishing the horizons and context of our meaningful worlds.
In short, metaphors carry the deeper mystery of human experience into the contextual meaning of a world.
Twenty-five hundred years ago, Siddhartha Gautama became one of the first to break through this threshold, but in the other direction. Not from mystery into meaning, but from meaning (myths, theories, tribal doctrines and cultural ideologies) back into the mystery of human experience.
The Buddha (“awakened one”), as he would later describe himself, discovered that by following the roots of metaphor into this deeper mystery of experience, the secret of salvation was instantly understood.
Since the Buddha’s time, subsequent psychological discoveries and further developments have enabled us to construct a theoretical paradigm that lays out an explanation of our human condition, as well as a definition of salvation that doesn’t invoke a prehistorical fall from paradise, demonic conspiracies, or a final escape to heaven when we die.
Indeed, this new paradigm imbues our existence in time with fresh significance, inviting us to wake up to life and what it has to offer before we die and lose our chance.
In honor of Siddhartha’s breakthrough discovery, this post will take his metaphor of Samsara, the Wheel of Existence, and expound upon it by adding elements of contemporary psychological theory.
We’ll start at the bottom of the Wheel as it begins its circuit up the left arc. Anxiety is not to be confused with the worrisome things we frequently get anxious about. In this context, anxiety has no definite object, nothing we are worrying about.
Instead it refers to a generalized insecurity associated with the encapsulation of consciousness – imagine catching the atmosphere in a balloon – into a separate center of self-conscious personal identity (ego = “I”).
This separate self is sequestered from its essential ground, the boundless field of consciousness and being, adrift in the realm of not-self – the chaotic nebula of opaque objects and others moving in the Void. Our sense of separation and exposure amplifies into profound insecurity and a generalized anxiety.
This is where the suffering of our human condition begins.
Compulsively, that is, below conscious intention and outside our voluntary control, anxiety drives us to grab on and grip down on whatever can tether our drifting balloon of self-conscious identity to Reality – or at least make us feel less insecure. Attachment begins in early infancy with the healthy bonding of mother (or caretaker) and baby, but as the anxiety of self-conscious exposure intensifies with ego formation, it grows increasingly neurotic.
Far into adulthood we may still be grabbing on and gripping down, clinging and trying desperately to control others and the world around us for the security we’re missing inside. The paradox, once again, is that being somebody special and having a self-conscious identity (ego) comes at the cost of separating from Reality and feeling alone in the middle of Everything.
We may grab on, squeeze out “the juice,” and toss aside a thousand, a thousand thousand attachments as the Wheel turns. Possessions, partners, titles, riches, status, lands and holdings – even the gods of religion: none of it can satisfy our craving for inner peace. And the reason is simply that nothing outside ourselves can provide what is missing within us.
It is inevitable that every attachment will sooner or later slip away or fall short of our expectations, resulting in disappointment.
Each such disappointment opens a precious opportunity for insight, where we might “see into” the true nature of our condition. We might suffer some disillusionment, as the illusion of a happiness derived from elsewhere is yanked like a veil from its rings. We start to realize that This wasn’t “IT” after all.
But then what do we do? We toss the disappointing thing aside and take up a new attachment – or maybe take another turn with something or someone who let us down before. This is also where we might attach ourselves to the ideology of some religion, believing now that god will save us.
Following through on the dawning insight, however, can clarify the futility of our efforts and assist us in breaking through Samsara to a position outside the trance. Transcendence refers to this move of “going beyond” and standing outside the bubble of self-conscious identity, which is where we can touch Reality and finally be real ourselves.
Or maybe we miss our opportunity. More likely we ignore it, dismiss it, or look the other way and pretend it’s not there.
What we can’t ignore, though, is this insecure craving inside ourselves, along with the fact that one more attachment has let us down. At this point, with the exit of transcendence now behind us, our disappointment begins to degrade into a low-burning frustration – the feeling that life is unfair, other people suck, and (dammit) we will get our way!
So we push harder and care less about the damage we cause. Frustration arises when something is in our way. And while this could be a moment when we figure out what’s on the far side of this obstacle and what value it holds, if any, frustration tends to fixate our energy on the obstacle itself, firing up our determination to make it work or move it out of the way.
If you’ve ever pushed against, or pulled on, something that can’t be moved, you are familiar with how exhausting the effort becomes – and how fast.
On the Wheel, exhaustion refers to the experience of using up all of our energy in pursuit of a result that, in the very nature of the exercise, cannot be realized. What we crave is that inner security we left behind so long ago on our adventure to becoming somebody special.
No attachment, no matter how hard or how many times we may try to make it work, has the capacity to deliver on our demand. But we keep trying, and grow more exhausted in the futility of our efforts.
Opposite of anxiety on the Wheel is depression, the wind-down of psychic entropy to its up-twist of neurotic energy. The feeling of being “pressed down” in a hole, without the energy to climb out or even care anymore, is the predictable outcome of chasing after illusions.
Today, the pandemic of anxiety/depression is flooding our streets, our schools, our workplaces, our homes – and, of course, our psychiatric hospitals and outpatient clinics.
This shouldn’t lead us to believe that suffering of this sort is only a modern mental health malady; it’s been around – around and around – for thousands of years.
We have one more station on the Wheel to visit, and it comes near the fully depleted state of exhaustion, when all we can manage (and barely) is to shut the lights, pull the drapes, and fall into bed. Even a broken night’s rest will charge our battery just enough for another day of attachment, disappointment, frustration, exhaustion, and despair.
Recovery is about getting back to a former condition, to a level of energy that can fuel our attention, effort, and expectations for yet another round.
A closer look at this bed-flop of exhausted depression at the end of a day reveals a second possible exit from Samsara. What has happened? The mental gears and spark of ambition have lost their charge, releasing our once busy mind into the quiet cradle of the body. Gently it breathes and pulses in steady rhythms, repairing damage and replacing cells, growing new neural connections and remapping the brain … and relaxing into being.
This release of mental activity and gradual descent into the animate intelligence of the body is called grounding.
As the word suggests, this is where consciousness drops out of a self-conscious personal identity and rejoins the grounding mystery of its Source.
While we have the opportunity of this happening most nights we crawl into bed, humans have long known the benefits of cultivating contemplative practices that help us let go of illusions and touch the present mystery of Reality again – and yet again.