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Category Archives: Timely and Random

5 Steps to Ridding the World of Democracy

Back when I was a church pastor, I gave a sermon that offered an analysis of the strategy used by the conservative alliance of political and religious leaders to get rid of Jesus. He had been stirring up hope and excitement among the rabble, announcing the arrival of a New Reality that would break their yoke of oppression.

For obvious reasons, he had to go.

Conservatives of any persuasion are committed to maintaining the status quo – conserving or safeguarding the inherited values, beliefs, worldview and way of life enjoyed by those who are comfortably getting by. Of course, this is also in the interest of a privileged few in seats of authority and with entitled access to wealth, healthcare, education and good jobs.

Anyone who dares to criticize and challenge the moral legitimacy of such an arrangement is asking for trouble.

Jesus criticized and challenged the politico-religious axis of conversative powers, and he got the trouble he was asking for.

To them, his message of the in-breaking power of a New Reality was nothing short of apocalyptic, in the way it threatened to pull down the idols of empire and orthodoxy. Getting rid of him could not be accomplished by a single aggressive strike, since Jesus had a popular following of some considerable size and they didn’t necessarily want to incite a revolution.

So this is how they did it.

Step One: Dismiss the Message

“Can anything good come from Nazareth?” The New Reality that Jesus’ proclaimed was just another utopia dreamed up by a disgruntled peasant from the Galilean outback. In a sprawling empire, there’s going to be a few who just can’t seem to accept the way things are and find their place in it. They would rather daydream about an ideal world than learn how to live in the real one.

Step Two: Deride the Messenger

“He is out of his mind.” But Jesus persisted, and this made it necessary to redirect their strategy at him personally. Not only was his message unrealistic, but he was himself a self-styled prophet who wandered the hills and city streets peddling a crazy fantasy. He spoke in parables and paradoxes – riddles just provocative enough to stupify his audience and keep them curious.

He was a cross-eyed clown-magician for the simple-minded.

Step Three: Discredit the Messenger

“Isn’t this the son of a carpenter?” Laughing off Jesus and his pathetic company didn’t have its desired effect, and his following only continued to grow. So instead of painting him as a buffoon, his conservative opponents began to attack his pedigree, as someone whose family tree would not be expected to bring forth a serious leader.

Jesus came from the wrong side of the tracks, the son of someone who didn’t matter.

Step Four: Disparage the Messenger

“This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.” If exposing Jesus’ unremarkable and average background wasn’t enough to undermine the devotion of his followers, then a more aggressive smear campaign was in order. Consistent with his “good news” (gospel) of a New Reality where divisions of race, wealth, power, and morality are transcended by a community of compassion, generosity and goodwill, Jesus spent his time with social outsiders and moral outcasts.

How can anyone with a conscience associate with someone like that?!

Step Five: Destroy the Messenger

“And they began to look for an opportunity to put Jesus away.” In a civil society, before a movement goes too far and upsets the status quo, the steps for shutting someone up and dispersing his or her fan base might be regarded as “coarse and unkind” – but still be allowed to play out in the press, from the pulpit, on the airways, and in social media.

With each step, the water in the kettle gets a little warmer – not enough to trigger the frog’s leap of escape, however – until the temperature reaches a critical point where it’s no longer tolerable but has rendered the frog incapable of doing anything about it.

One of the dichotomies inherent to a liberal democracy is its aspirational commitment to freedom and progress on one side, and on the other a natural tendency, characteristic of all human groups, to fall into routines and become increasingly protective of the status quo.

The true spirit of democracy is for that reason unwelcome in a society which has settled into its traditions and authority structures, to the extent that beliefs and value-judgments once held consciously slip into position in front of the mind as pre-judgments (aka prejudices), determining how its members perceive and respond to the world around them.

All of this came back to me over the past four years, as I observed how candidate and then president Trump regards his democratic opponents – the true proponents of democracy in America. Included in this company are both Democrats and Republicans (as well as other minor parties) who are committed to the process of creating a system of governance dedicated to the advancement of individual freedom, civic responsibility, servant leadership, and equal representation under the law.

Those who speak on behalf of these democratic principles are typically handled by Trump using the same five-step process outlined above, just as the politico-religious conservative alliance dealt with Jesus in his day.

It’s proven to be the most effective method of dictators for luring otherwise sane and decent folk under a spell, where they are finally willing to abandon their interest in freedom for the despot’s promise to protect them from “disasters” which are sure to come with the changes of progress.

Moving our focus from the lessons of history to what’s transpiring right now in our own country, we can see how Trump has been pulling large numbers of professional Republicans and American citizens under a kind of spell. Like that frog in the kettle, we have followed him step-by-step through the program, with each additional step seeming to be not such a gross departure from what we’ve already been willing to concede, casually accept, and quietly ignore.

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Finding ourselves nodding in agreement with his character smears and name-calling, we might next be content to look away as one more candle in our less-free democracy is snuffed out.

 
 

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The Five Tribes of Donald Trump

Given what was known about Donald Trump prior to the 2016 election, one has to wonder how he managed to make his way into the highest office in the free world. True, enough of us had grown tired and disgusted with “Washington politics,” to the point where a fresh player in the game who was decidedly not a politician stirred our wishful thinking, that maybe our country could be moved out of its deep, slow ruts.

In the meantime our impressions have been confirmed – in spades. Trump is definitely not a politician, if by that term we mean someone who is a civic leader or public servant.

If we were hoping that his business acumen would apply the business principles of effectiveness, efficiency, equity and sustainability to our various national commitments, he did get busy right away with pulling us out of international trade agreements, rolling back environmental protection laws, and tearing up corporate tax regulations – all of which made Wall Street tingle and our 401Ks get erect.

Something inside us probably knew that all this mad rush for short-term gains might cost us down the road. But hey, this is how Donald Trump built his business empire, right? He knows how how to do it, he’s done it before, and he’ll bring us all together into the promised land of wealth and power. Trump would “make America great again.”

He wasn’t the first candidate and president to pull this mythic illusion of a once-perfect time over our eyes, but we were now more desperate for it than ever before.

And what did we get? Not only someone with no sense of civic leadership, but also an abject business failure who has been running his investments into the ground, taking on enormous debt, and leaving both contractors and investors without their shirts. He’s been dodging his tax obligations for decades, as well as laundering his wealth through off-shore investments, foreign banks, and by “employing” members of his own family. His very public words and behavior expose him as a racist, a bigot, a megalomaniac, and a hypocrite.

So who voted for him in 2016? Many of the same people who will be voting for him again this November. I call them the Five Tribes of Donald Trump.

Professional Republicans

I want to be careful to discriminate between professional Republicans and citizens who believe in the democratic philosophy of republican government. The latter recognize the strategic importance for a sustainable democracy of electing leaders who represent not just the will of the people, but their collective wellbeing as well. American democracy has operated by this model of a republic since its beginnings, and to be a Republican has long translated into a concern for strong, representative, and visionary leadership in government.

The tribe of Professional Republicans consists of those who were elected to their positions as representatives of their individual states, counties, and cities, but who have little or no concern for the wellbeing of our nation as a whole. They are at the table for their constituents only, and in the interest of staying in office for as long as they can. Sidling up to Donald Trump has meant a bigger piece of the pie and an opportunity to stand in the winner’s circle. As long as they kowtow to Trump, he promises to push more of the pie in their direction.

Over the past four years, the Republican Party has steadily relinquished to Trump both its philosophical vision and its spiritual soul.

Wealthy Capitalists

Trump has cultivated the image of a wealthy capitalist for years, even though his wealth was largely given to him by his father or extorted from business partners (in the form of investments) and city officials (in the form of tax abatements). Capitalism is one of the seedbed traditions of the American Experiment, the other being democracy. It plays the economic priorities of private property, financial profit, and individual prosperity in creative tension with the democratic principles of equal rights, distributed wealth, and community service.

Trump’s election signaled the ascendancy of capitalism and its associated values over the longstanding ideals of democracy.

Wealthy Capitalists admire president Trump because he also wants to make money, invest money, make more money, and bank (or hide) as much money as possible. They don’t like the idea of giving a good chunk of it back to the government, to be sunk into social welfare programs and given away to people who don’t deserve it. The democratic principle of distributed wealth is seen by them (and him) as one of the things that’s really wrong with America. Everyone should have a chance to get rich, but they need to work for it – unless, of course, they are fortunate enough to inherit their wealth.

Christian Evangelicals

Why would any Christian support and vote for Donald Trump? Wasn’t Jesus all about breaking down walls, welcoming the stranger, and loving our enemies? Isn’t the message of Christianity that god wants all people to be healthy, happy, and whole – not just insiders but all people, everywhere? How can believers in such a god, who claim to be followers of Jesus, stand behind a man who despises the poor, humiliates his opponents, antagonizes his enemies, and misleads others with empty promises and false claims? Is it because he invokes god’s name once in a while, or poses for a photo op in front of a church with a Bible in his hand?

The darker truth is that the character of Donald Trump reminds evangelical Christians a lot of their god.

Not all that nonsense of “a preferential option for the poor” or universal love and forgiveness, but of the one who stands above the world in judgment and is motivated out of a reluctant obligation to condemn sinners – unless they can satisfy the conditions of salvation by confessing their sin, converting to the one true religion, joining the fellowship of a church, and holding fast till the end, when Jesus will come through the clouds and gather them up into heaven and they shall live forever and ever, Amen. Also as part of The Deal, their enemies and all unrepentant sinners will anguish in torment for as long. Division has the last word in this worldview.

White Supremacists

The racial conflicts in America of White, Black, Red, and Brown are older than our Republic itself. Colonialists kidnapped Africans and sold them into slavery. Native Americans were decimated and banished to reservations. Latinos have long struggled to find their place in the landscape of Anglo-European cultures.

Whether we want to admit it or not, there is in each of us a preconscious reflex to be more cautious around people who are different from us. We can’t be sure just by looking, just how deep our differences might go, and it’s better to be safe than sorry.

When this preconscious reflex gets taken up and coded into our morality, our institutions, our social attitudes and worldview, it plays out through an ideology known as racism. The tribe of White Supremacists who voted for Donald Trump believe deep down that America would be better off without Black, Red, or Brown people. These different colors and lifestyles are a threat to our national security and racial purity. Never mind the fact that large numbers of them suffer in poverty and crime outside our gates as a direct consequence of our historical exploitation and oppression of them as a nation. White Supremacists want them gone. Now.

Antinomian Opportunists

This fifth and last Tribe of Donald Trump is less well-defined than the others. They represent a percentage of the population in any empire, nation, or organization who feel that the system is somehow rigged against them – or at least it’s not set up in their favor. Antinomian means “against the rules,” and an opportunist is someone who suspends moral principles for the sake of making a profit, gaining an advantage, getting even, or just having a little fun. To some degree we all come into the world as opportunists, taking advantage of every opportunity to get what we want. The imposition of morality by those in authority prompted us to be on the lookout for unlocked doors or gaps in the fence.

Donald Trump is all about breaking the rules when there’s something to gain for himself.

His Tribe of Antinomian Opportunists likely saw this in him and expected that he would break the rules in their favor as well. There’s no disputing that things have gone this way for many White Supremacists, Christian Evangelicals, Wealthy Capitalists, and Professional Republicans. But for the larger majority of Antinomian Opportunists, many of whom are excluded by the other Tribes, Trump’s example gave them license and opportunity to engage in vandalism, theft, arson, and violence. They brazenly hijacked peaceful protests and turned a democratic process into domestic terrorism and anarchy.


The Five Tribes of Donald Trump can be thought of as separate populations of Americans living in different parts of our country. But in truth, two or more – even all five – Tribes might live inside a single individual, making his allure all the more irresistible to them.

With four years to observe president Trump in action and test the sincerity of his campaign promises, the American people can see much more clearly now. The Five Tribes of Donald Trump are not likely to abandon their Führer, as devotion to him is energized by a profound insecurity, and the turbulent times are only driving their insecurity deeper still.

This is the time for those who believe in democracy to vote in their defense of it.

 
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Posted by on September 29, 2020 in Timely and Random

 

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A Chance for Democracy

After the National Democratic Convention was over, Donald Trump called it “horrible” and “depressing,” that it was the most depressing thing he’d ever seen. By now, Trump is well known for his hyperbole, which is one of the outstanding and most obvious symptoms of his binary mindset, lacking an ability to intellectually entertain complexity and paradox in the nature of things – which arguably is the nature of things.

I would call him a “limbic thinker,” one whose reasoning is driven by emotion (processed in the more primitive limbic system of our brain), whose worldview is charged by dualism, conflict, and division.

Soon after Trump took the Whitehouse I made the declaration that capitalism had won a decisive victory over democracy – the twin seedbed traditions wrapped around each other in the double-helix of American DNA. Since its beginnings, the American experiment has been this Yang of individual prosperity, private property, and self-interest, pulling against the Yin of communal wellbeing, equal rights, and engaged altruism – capitalism versus democracy, an economic ideology against a political one. For most of our history their dynamic balance has shifted to one side or the other of center.

But with Trump’s election, capitalism and its associated values wrested executive control from this delicate balance of powers.

If we were to regard America as a corporate individual, then the “What’s in it for me?” of our emotional Inner Child took control from our adult Higher Self which honors the obvious fact that “We are all in this together.” If this self-interested impulse had earlier been managed by the ideals and responsibilities of shared governance, under a president whose Inner Child is in charge the tense yet creative balance of these very different ideologies finally snapped.

America itself collapsed from a more cerebral capacity for holding the paradox of alternative visions, to a limbic intolerance for compromise and an apocalyptic urgency to push “the other” out of the circle.

We shouldn’t be surprised by the consequences. Life in adult community requires mutual respect, dialogue, deep listening, cooperation, and working for solutions that benefit both sides and have the wellbeing of everyone in mind. And when these more mature commitments are put offline, what should we expect? Nested ecosystems that thrive only by virtue of their diversity have been steadily undermined and hijacked by primitive (and childish) cravings for a simpler and presumably safer world of one kind, one color, one creed.

To Trump, Joe Biden’s dream of light, hope, and love is nothing but a nightmare. It’s like putting a child in a room of adults who are sharing different perspectives, challenging each other’s views, digging for common ground, and reaching beyond their respective beliefs for a bigger vision that includes everyone. The child’s this-or-that, either-or, all-or-nothing emotional (limbic) processor would be quickly overwhelmed, prompting either his retreat into private fantasy or a disruptive outburst that might hope to break the unbearable tension and resolve his anxiety.

The long debate between American democracy and American capitalism is a lot like that room of adults where the values of communal life and individual freedom, the greater good and personal happiness, a transgenerational longview and the more nearsighted aspirations of a single lifetime are exchanged over biscuits and tea or glasses of wine. Each side has its convictions and misunderstandings, but their shared responsibility to a peaceful coexistence keeps them open to each other and searching for a balance they can not only live with but also live for.

If there’s a secret to American democracy, it’s that our leaders have been mature enough (with exceptions) to hold as sacred the ideals of a perfect union and the unalienable rights of the individual, of our need for community and our obsessions with identity. These are obviously not just saying the same thing in two different ways, but are rather saying two very different things that can be complementary despite pulling in opposite directions.

American democracy is our commitment to the work of managing their balance.

Instead of conceptualizing democracy and capitalism in absolute terms, as entering the arena (or courtroom) from opposite and independent sides, we should better see them as conceptual abstractions from a shared continuum of interdependence.

The fact is, they don’t – and can’t – work without each other, and their respective visions of life are unrealizable apart from the counterbalance each carries in the conversation. Communal wellbeing and individual properity are the inextricably deep principles whose opposition is the matrix of every ecosystem, in both cultural and natural realms.

Take away the individual’s drive for self-improvement and competitive success, and you will cut the fuse of healthy community. Equally, yet oppositely, if you remove the social constraints and transpersonal ideals of community, those very standards of improvement and success will cease to matter, and the “victorious” individual will sink into a despairing isolation.

It is possible to stand out so far above the rest that you are all alone, just as you can hide inside a relationship and never find your true self.

If there’s a chance for democracy this November, it won’t be by casting aside self-interest – and casting Donald Trump out of the Whitehouse – but by redrawing the boundary that defines our sense of self. When Trump and our Inner Child feel threatened by the otherness of others (i.e., what we don’t identify with and can’t understand), we tend to push them away and put up a wall.

If you happen to be rich and can afford a wall, then good for you. Just know that it won’t be good for you for very long.

As we’ve been challenged to do over and over again in the history of our nation, we also have a more adult option, one that involves expanding our horizon of identity and definition of self so as to include the other – even the otherness of others. We’re not just Americans: Democrats or Republicans, capitalists or communitarians, white, black or brown. We are human beings and siblings of one family. We share this planet in a web of life with countless cousins, suspended together for a brief interval of time between a common ancestor and our own imagined descendents.

So we gave it a shot. For four long years we stepped aside as adults and let the Inner Child take over. Now it’s time to get back in the game, straighten up the place, and restart the dialogue.

 
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Posted by on August 22, 2020 in Timely and Random

 

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A Promise to Each Other

A leader – I would like to say “by definition” – is one who cares about other people. There are plenty of self-styled leaders out there who don’t really care about others, or even much care for them. They are into leadership for the recognition, power, and influence, and if they have to interact with others, it’s only with the objective of promoting themselves, not serving others or a Greater Good.

President Trump is our best example of a so-called leader who doesn’t really care about people. For Trump, they are either behind him or in his way.

Trump’s election in 2016 was the outcome of at least three factors: an impatience for change among the American people, their idolatrous fascination with celebrity and wealth, and a deep childish insecurity that Trump’s campaign had successfully exploited in his run-up to November.

I explored that last one in my post A Nation of Children. There I brought out of the corner and into the light a part of our personality called the Inner Child. This is an emotional complex of feelings, attachments, magical thinking, and adaptive strategies which comes into formation during those early years of childhood. Back then we were underlings inside a theistic universe ruled by taller powers who sometimes weren’t all that provident. Their own insecurities – amplified by the stress of being parents and having less-than-perfect role models in their taller powers farther up the ancestral line – made it necessary for us to find ways of getting our needs met in spite of them.

Our Inner Child – really, no matter how happy and well-adjusted we happen to be now – operates by a different set of rules from the one that guides and informs our Higher Self (aka the rational adult our families and communities need us to be).

True enough, there’s all that innocence, curiosity, playfulness, and spontaneous trust that we praise as childlike; let’s call that the “bright side” of our Inner Child. On the “dark side,” however, are other characteristics: shame, self-doubt, selfishness, and calculated distrust that are rightly called childish. It was our dark side that Trump exploited for his election, and his strategy has continued, not only unabated but exacerbated, in the more than three-and-a-half years since.

The dark side of our Inner Child needs to divide an often confusing and unpredictable reality into the sharp dualities of good and bad, right and wrong, “for me” and “against me,” insiders and everybody else. This helped us negotiate an early home environment of abuse, disruption, neglect, and mixed messages. Even if it wasn’t all that bad for us growing up, there’s still a good measure of insecurity that we picked up on our adventure of separating into the self-conscious individual we are today.

When we feel stressed, pushed into a corner or put on the spot before we’re ready, our security strategies get activated and can easily force offline our adult capacities for contextual reasoning, fair consideration, critical thinking, problem solving, and self-control.

In order to get his way, Trump has poked, pushed, threatened, blamed, humiliated, intimidated and antagonized – and all with remarkable success. He has entranced the Republican party, rolled back protective regulations, tipped the table of wealth in his favor, repealed basic civil and human rights, demonized liberals and Democrats, alienated ethnic and gender minorities, circumvented essential protocols and safeguards of democracy, undermined the credentials of a moral society, incited violence between Americans, and invited interference by foreign countries in our national elections.

Now, we want to say that he did all these things without our consent. But we put him in office, didn’t we? Well, maybe not a popular majority of us, but enough of us did. And of those who did vote for Trump the first time around, I’m arguing that it was our Inner Child and not our Higher Self that pulled the lever that day.

We (those who voted for him) allowed him to weaken our faith in ourselves and each other and to put our hopes on him instead, that he would be the one to carry us through. He persuaded us to first question and then withdraw our compassion for one another. And then he played on our resultant self-isolation by convincing us that we were small and impotent – yet deserving and better than everyone else. The part of us that felt this way looked on Trump as the one we had been waiting for all along, and we eagerly gave him the keys to our destiny.

So we should all be able to agree that Donald Trump doesn’t care about other people, unless they are useful to him in getting what he wants. He doesn’t care about other people because he doesn’t understand them. He can’t identify with their human experience because he’s not in touch with his own.

A clear and direct line of awareness has roots in one’s empathic (introverted) familiarity with experiences of pain, hunger, separation and loss, which in turn enables a sympathetic (extroverted) understanding of those same feelings in others.

This is the psychological basis of compassion, where one is able to identify with another and is moved by goodwill to bring comfort, encouragement, and aid to the other in need. Trump’s lack of empathy and self-understanding is what’s behind his inability to have compassion for and truly understand other people.

I am arguing that Donald Trump needs our compassion – have you ever felt unloved and misunderstood? – but he doesn’t deserve our vote this coming November. I’m pretty sure that America and the world would not survive another term with him in office. Maybe the Republican party can promote a real leader in his place, who knows?

Either way, when the day comes, let’s show up to vote with our Higher Self. Can we promise that to each other?

 

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Seduction of the Mindless Life

The exact age at which we begin making intentional choices in life is up for debate, but there are good reasons for putting it somewhere between three and five. This is about the time when language acquisition has provided us with a lens for organizing the world around us, and with a mirror for reflecting back to us an image of ourselves. From that moment onward, life is no longer just happening to us but rather presents us with options, different doors and alternative paths that we must choose.

But to say that we must choose our life presents us with an apparent contradiction, since just as making a choice presupposes some degree of freedom, the necessity of making a choice seems to instantly cancel that freedom out.


The exact age at which we stop making intentional choices in life can also be debated, but I would put it somewhere in our early thirties. We’ve made a significant number of choices by that time, and through the years a good minority of them have settled into the habits and convictions that move us mindlessly along the cattle tracks of daily life. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that by the time we are young adults, many of us are living prescribed and automatic lives.

This would all amount to a very tragic and extraordinarily pessimistic view of life, if it weren’t for the fact that we allow it to happen. Not only do we allow it to happen, but we hasten the process which will eventually have us locked inside the cage of a mindless life.


You might like to know why we do this, and I shall give you an answer. But first I have some questions for you.

If you were to guess, what percentage of your everyday behavior conforms to routines that were set months, years, and even decades ago? These background routines got their start after you first chose to act or respond in a certain way. Then you repeated the sequence across numerous similar situations until you no longer had to think about it. They migrated to the back of your mind and took control of your behavior.

Now let’s be clear, habits are basic to human life. If you had to make a fresh choice every time and clarify the steps all over again, the skosh of random access memory in your conscious attention would be terminally preoccupied with those minutiae. You’d never be able to learn anything, at least nothing very involved or complex.

Over your lifetime you have practiced and repeated many behaviors that eventually became habits, which, by liberating your conscious attention from that more rudimentary level of control, made it possible for you to tackle and learn more sophisticated skills.

What tends to happen, though, is that even these more sophisticated skills soon become habits. And now you’re bored; or you’re restless. Maybe you are restless and bored. That, my friend, is the precondition for all kinds of interesting mental disorders, from anxiety to depression.

But let’s come back to my questions.

Here’s another one: If you were to guess, what percentage of what you think you know about anything conforms to beliefs that were fixed in place months, years, and even decades ago? By a dynamic similar to the formation of habits, you might hear a statement from someone else or in a media broadcast, and then the following week you hear it again. Randomly through the day you recall what you heard and you think about it, again. With each repetition, whether external (you hear it again) or internal (you recall it again), that sound byte gains credibility in your mind.

As it becomes more familiar and you give emotional support to its supposed truth, that bit of doctrine becomes your belief.

As before, we need to acknowledge the crucial function of beliefs in human life. They are the mental equivalent to those motor routines of habit, in this case constructing propositions that serve to arrange your thoughts on a topic and render a judgment. As prefabricated judgments, or prejudgments (aka prejudices), beliefs save you time from having to think and consider and work out what something means to you. If your mind originally constructed (or borrowed) your belief about something, the mere repetition and persistence of that belief gradually gave it control over your thoughts, at which point it became a conviction.

Just as habits serve as background routines for new skills, convictions can simply be taken as true and thence serve as foundational beliefs of your worldview.

And wouldn’t you know it, but having your mind locked in a box where you don’t really need to think anymore results, not in a more complete understanding of reality as you may have hoped, but instead in a kind of mental hall of mirrors where this belief is cross-referenced with that belief, but very little of it touches the reality of everyday life.

Now to the question of why we do it. What on Earth would motivate us as young adults to surrender our free will for the cage of a mindless (and correspondingly meaningless) life? I’ve already hinted at something else in play, beyond the gradual takeover of consciousness by the normal accumulation of habits and convictions. Is there something seductive about the cage that lures us inside?

The answer is, Yes; and what we find so alluring is the escape it affords from the freedom and responsibility of choosing our way through life, moment to moment.

Employing that same strategy of liberating energy for higher-order challenges, human consciousness has evolved over many millenniums through an ascending hierarchy of pressing needs. Our primitive survival needs for air, water, food, and shelter have about them an unmistakable urgency. Later these needs were superseded by the social needs for connection, belonging, membership, and identity.

Very much later, our shared life in society began to stretch open and transform by the energy of still higher needs, which can be named spiritual, including our need for serenity, presence, communion, and wellbeing.

This is admittedly a gross simplification of human history, but it does serve to clarify what I mean by the “pressing need” of urgency. All of those distinct registers of human need – survival, social, and spiritual – are pressing and urgent precisely because they are critical to our fulfillment as human beings. In our evolutionary ascent through those registers, the habits and convictions associated with our survival needs had to break open in order to release the creative energy that our social needs would require. We had to learn how to share our resources, how to care for others, and how to repair damaged relationships.

And now, here we are: The spiritual needs are pressing us to change, to transform yet again, this time to choose our higher selves. It is urgent that we take responsibility for our lives and start living them on purpose, with purpose, and for the purpose of becoming fully human.

The human spirit cannot live in a cage. It is time to take our leave.

 

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Good and Evil

A picture is worth a thousand words. What is this picture saying? Donald Trump wanted it to say that he is God’s advocate for Law and Order in American society.

The photo op was staged after peaceful protesters of George Floyd’s murder by Minneapolis police were cleared out of the way with flash-bang grenades and rubber bullets.

Trump made his way across the park to the front of St. John’s Episcopal church, where he shushed onlookers and held up a Bible in his right hand. As they say, “Nuff said.”

This president wasn’t going to allow rampaging thugs to terrorize US cities with their savagery, vandalism, arson, and theft.

Donald Trump sees himself on God’s side – or is God on his side? Either way, the values he is espousing are about righteous authority, law and order, and of a will-to-power above all else. Any transgression of the law is rebellion against the one who stands behind the law, so in addition to paying a penalty for breaking the rules there remains the matter of appeasing the ruler-in-charge. From Trump’s perspective, he and God stand for Truth and Righteousness against the wicked lawbreakers. They’ve got it coming.

For others, the picture is an egregious example of hypocrisy. A vainglorious megalomaniac who has been on a three-year campaign to dismantle American democracy, disenfranchise the middle class, stamp out the poor and minorities, and do whatever it takes to put himself first (what in 2016 I coined as “Trumpence”) – holding up a holy book that’s all about equality, love, forgiveness, and inclusion. When asked by someone whether the Bible he was holding was his personal Bible, Trump responded that it was “a Bible.”

Can you imagine him grabbing the Bible from a bedside table on his way out of the White House, its pages worn from years of daily devotions and thoughtful notes penciled in the margins?

As they see it, this photo op is a side-by-side of good (God’s Word) and evil (Trump himself). He stands in a tradition of self-righteous so-called Christian evangelicals who claim God’s ordination and support of their bigotry. He is decidedly not on God’s side, and neither is God on his. The Bible is all about – let’s go back and grab those virtues mentioned earlier – equality, love, forgiveness, and inclusion. Donald Trump is about superiority, hatred, vengeance, and exclusion. Good and evil: there’s our choice, America.

Now obviously these two readings of the picture of Trump holding a Bible are on opposite sides, as far as the judgment on Trump himself is concerned. He regards himself as God’s leader; they condemn him as contradicting everything in the Good Book. For Trump, the violent mob is evil and he stands with the Bible against them. To his critics, Trump is evil – and doubly so as he tries to co-opt the Bible to justify his racism and white supremacist values.

Here’s a third perspective: Trump with the Bible in his hand is a split-mirror image.

On one side we have a book of scriptures that does indeed have important things to say about equality, love, forgiveness, and inclusion. But in those same pages you can also find poems, stories, and commandments glorifying racism, patriarchy, separatism, and violence against outsiders. If you read it closely, you’ll notice that all of those noble and universalizing virtues comprise only a minority report in the Bible, which flowered momentarily and for a last time in the teachings of Jesus, but was soon buried under a resurgent orthodoxy of Law and Order.

We want to make the Bible into something it isn’t: a “good book” brimming with God’s Truth. Whenever in our history it’s been taken as such, malevolent individuals and political leaders have used the Bible to advance oppression, violence, injustice, and exploitation of other humans and the natural realm. And then, too, it’s been used to promote the liberation of oppressed groups, civil disobedience in the name of human rights, and a global ethic of reverence for life.

The Bible has been used as a shield for murderous dictators, and as a sword to bring them down. In both cases the Bible has been “used”; that is to say, it’s been shaken down and picked over whenever humans have needed more power to their cause.

While this may sound heretical and sacrilegious, all it takes is a close reading to appreciate the Bible as a protracted moral debate over the balance of love and power. The history of its contributing traditions charts a back-and-forth from one to the other, from vertical management through social revolution to spiritual renaissance. A still closer reading will notice how this balance gradually tips more to the side of love as these faith traditions matured, giving (almost) the last word to Jesus and his early God-is-Love-is-God movement.

So in Trump’s right hand is not the pure good of God’s Word against the evil of violent protesters, or against Trump himself. You really have to choose “which Bible” will represent God’s Word, a selective reading that will necessarily dismiss or ignore its counterpart in the full collection of writings.

And that leaves Trump himself. Is he really on the side of good, or is he on the side of evil? Now we know that siding with the Bible doesn’t automatically make you or your cause good or evil; maybe human beings are just as morally ambiguous. If you regard the Bible as humanly authored, then it’s reasonable to expect them to reflect each other.

But are we ready to accept that Donald Trump is a mixed bag of good and evil (or evil and good) as well?

Could it be that behind his constant blaming, bullying, and prevaricating is an inner child deeply afraid of making mistakes and getting caught? Or could it be that underneath his arrogant self-promotion is a driving need to count for something, to be better than others and thus show himself worthy of someone’s approval. We’ll lose count if we should try to keep track of the number of times he threatens opponents with the shame of being laughed at and ridiculed.

What we know about his relationship with his father puts a big check-mark next to that possibility. Children who have to work desperately for a parent’s love and acceptance are really trying to find security by making their taller power pleased with them and proud of them, hoping they can finally feel safe and supported on some deep existential level. When it doesn’t come, these children grow up into insecure adults who continue to seek positions of influence and recognition so that others will regard (even honor and worship) them as exceptional.

Suggesting what might be underneath or behind what Trump wants us to see in no way excuses his behavior as an American capitalist, celebrity, and president. Only to say that he is very human – insecure, afraid, self-centered, defensive, aggressive, and sometimes a prisoner of his own small-minded convictions.

All of us to some extent use control to feel secure, use attachment as a substitute for love, use our power to manipulate others, and try prove our worth by winning their praise (or envy).

May our next president be one who understands the ambiguity of good and evil, who can hold the creative balance of power and love, who is a champion of the human spirit and a true servant leader.

 
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Posted by on June 4, 2020 in Timely and Random

 

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Now and Again

Sequestering at home, I was sitting with my wife under the gazebo in our backyard just the other morning as the sun was coming through the trees. The sweet smell of burning piñon wood from our chiminea and birdsong in the tree overhead made for an enchanted experience. There were other things we could be doing, like cleaning up the kitchen or straightening a closet, but those could wait. This would only be here a few moments longer.

In Greek there are two very different concepts of time. Kronos is the measured time of our clocks. It is the “again and again” of cycles by which we measure time’s elapse: clock hands, moon phases, Earth’s rotation and orbit around the sun. Inside these smaller and larger cycles we track the sequence of events that make up a recipe, a work project, the history of anything, including a human lifetime.

I can schedule a time to clean up the kitchen by placing the appointment somewhere in these nested cycles of chronic time. If I miss the appointment, I’ll just reschedule it. No big deal.

Another Greek word, kairos, carries a very different concept of time. Its meaning is something like “the opportune moment,” or as we commonly say, when the time is right or at the right time. Even though the sun rises at a certain hour and minute according to the clock, we don’t normally say that the sun is rising “on time” – as if we have the earth and Sun on a schedule.

The sun rising through trees provides a fascinating intersection among physical events happening, including not just astronomical events but me getting out to the gazebo at precisely the right time.

But there’s more. I could be sitting out there with all that going on, totally absorbed in my thoughts, futzing with my chair, or still just waking up and not yet paying attention. The sunrise could happen without me even noticing. A kairotic event is actually a conspiracy of things coming together all at once: the earth turning, the sky and clouds just so, the temperature and breeze as they are, birds singing in the tree standing there, wood smoke from my chiminea – and me here, a quiet and observant witness to the wonder of it all.

If I don’t show up or pay attention as it’s happening, this conspiracy fails to fully come together.

When Jesus called out to anyone who would listen, “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news,” he was talking about kairos. The kingdom of God coming near was his chosen metaphor of a power that lurks just below the threshold of ordinary awareness, but which, if really seen and taken in by the fully observant mind, will change everything. To repent literally means to turn around and go in the opposite direction, out of the trance of conventional life and into what he also called “abundant life” – liberated, authentic, and fully awake.

While Jesus’ metaphors reflect his heritage and worldview, the invitation to wake up and break free from the mental enclosures of tradition, habit, and belief in order that we can really see the present mystery of reality, has been essential to “true religion” ever since the Axial Age (beginning in the 8th century BCE). This critical insight has frequently put those who are waking up at odds with the belief systems and departure narratives that characterize most forms of theism. To identify it with true religion, then, is admittedly a value judgment on my part.

We shouldn’t forget that orthodox theism was one of the social forces that collaborated in Jesus’ death, along with colonial politics and neurotic egoism.

But this is the essential truth: right now is the only opportunity any of us has to be fully present and awake to what’s really going on. In Jesus’ words, time is fulfilled in every Now, but if we don’t wake up and open ourselves to what has “come near,” we might end up sleeping as the mystery passes us by, and keep missing it – again and again. We might say that ordinary consciousness (or the trance state) is a condition where “again and again” (or more of the same) conceals the ever-present mystery of “here and now.”

The real tragedy is that, over time, our capacity for mindful awareness and creative response can become so buried under the habits and demands of daily life (chronos), that we may never wake up to Life in its fullness. The time is always now and we are always here, but how much of our life is deeply engaged in conscious living?

So I realized that the morning sun through trees – as an experience and not merely a physical event – is exquisitely for me in the sense that it won’t happen if I’m not here, not paying attention, or distracted with other things. I don’t mean this to sound self-centered, but if I’m not centered in myself and present to what’s going on, the morning sun through trees won’t happen either.

If I come out again tomorrow morning, the kingdom of God will once again be present at the threshold of my awareness, but only because it is always there, waiting on me to show up and be a witness. If the spiritual life is anything, it is the devoted practice of showing up and learning to be fully present.

 

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Four Burning Questions

Many are looking all around for the clues to understand our present predicament. They look on the stage of national and global politics. They look at the deteriorating conditions of Earth’s climate and habitats. They look upon the cracking infrastructures of civil society. They look out the window at their neighbors. They look everywhere except the one place all of these concerns are rooted: in themselves.

Yes, even the collapse of our planetary ecosystem is just a symptom of what’s going on inside us.

I’m not suggesting that everything can be reduced to psychology. A gradual but steady increase in Earth’s average mean temperature is not merely in our heads – not “fake news” in other words – but constitutes a real fact external to human minds and behaviors. But this and just about everything else is what it is as a consequence of our human beliefs, values, and choices as moral agents.

Even if we don’t mean to do it but are acting under the influence of habit, urgency, or conviction, we are responsible – even if we are not willing to take responsibility.

To really understand what’s going on and how we got here, we need to unlock the black box of psychology: of how our sense of self comes into shape and then determines our action in the fields of life.

In this post I will propose that there are four questions – four burning questions – that each of us must answer on our human journey. These questions are pressing and unavoidable, which is one reason I call them burning. They are also catalysts in our personal transformation over time, as fire changes matter from one form into another. Finally, these four burning questions are themselves transient, active for time but eventually exhausted as fuel for the work they make possible.

This work is the human journey – the process and adventure of becoming fully human.

Each of the four burning questions has its critical time window on the arc of our journey, and we’ll explore them according to the sequence in which they press themselves onto our evolving self-consciousness.

Whom Can I Trust?

In the beginning, after our eviction from the garden of our mother’s body, the second priority of our nervous system (the first being to keep us alive) was to determine whether and to what degree our new situation was safe and provident. Was it a place where we could rest, grow, and thrive? From the start, although this question was ineffable for us as we did not yet have a proper language to formulate it, the answer was delivered by persons responsible for our care.

It was, therefore, personified: conveyed by persons and made personal in our earliest experience.

This is likely where the ancient sense of being watched over and cared for by someone who loves us has its origin. Again, at such an early age (and in that primitive time) we didn’t have a clear picture of this provident power, and certainly no idea of its separate autonomous existence. Nevertheless, the foundational experience to our emerging sense of self was a kind of intuitive assurance or deep faith that reality could be trusted.

Otherwise, in the exact degree of its absence or inconsistency, a profound insecurity became our prevailing existential mood.

The burning question of whom we can trust is the oldest and most persistent of the four. Still today as adults, when we meet and are getting to know someone, our inner child is asking, “Can I trust you? Can I relax in your presence? Do you care about me? Are you safe?” And because our own sense of self, our own emerging identity, is itself a function of those earliest reflexes of trust or distrust, our answer to this question necessarily translated into self-trust or self-doubt.

Where Do I Belong?

In later childhood and adolescence a second burning question presents itself, establishing a protective boundary around that early nucleus of faith or anxiety. Identity is not only about what’s at the core of “me” (what I identify as), but also includes by association what’s inside this boundary (what I identify with). In this way, the work of identity formation is the critical linchpin of our world construction – referring to the tapestry of stories and beliefs that serves as a veil of meaning to orient us in reality.

Psychologically, our world can only be as large as our insecurity allows.

This helps explain the recent rocket-rise in egoism, including all forms of tribalism, fundamentalism, sectarianism, nationalism, racism, sexism; every -ism that shrinks our horizon of identity in an effort to manage anxiety and establish a “safe zone.” When we feel threatened, we make ourselves smaller by separating from what we don’t know, can’t control, and won’t trust.

Mathematically such reduction will finally terminate in a membership of one, since any difference contains the shadow of what is unfamiliar, other, and potentially dangerous.

It is possible, of course, to enlarge our horizon of membership, to expand the boundary of identity so as to include our own shadow, human differences, as well as the extra-human sphere of living and nonliving things. This is one of the perennial teachings of the spiritual wisdom traditions: When we open up to include “the other” in our self-understanding, we will eventually come to see that All is One.

What Really Matters?

After and out of the questions of security and identity comes the burning question of meaning. Already implied in our consideration of where we belong is the contextual construct of our world, the collection of myths (or mythology) that sets the boundary and encloses what matters to us.

Only what is included really matters, and only what matters is meaningful.

As recent as a hundred years ago it was a widespread and unquestioned assumption that meaning is “out there,” to be searched for and discovered in the way things are (i.e., in reality). Since that time, we have been slowly and painfully breaking into the realization that meaning is what we put onto things, the significance we spin like webs across reality, a great deal of which consist of fantasies, fictions, ideas, and beliefs that exist only in our minds.

If late childhood and adolescence is when the burning question of identity (“Where do I belong?”) confronts us, sometime around middle age is when we start to realize how much of life’s meaning is only a veil of illusion suspended by social convention and make-believe.

To deeply inquire into what really matters is not about uncovering an absolute meaning beneath or behind these mental fabrications, but rather to courageously ask ourselves, “What kind of world do I want to live in? What stories are most worth telling, and which ones can serve to clarify a fulfilling purpose for my life?” 

Stories that do this have long been honored as true stories.

Why Am I Here?

The burning question of purpose is where our human journey culminates. And although it might be contemplated at any point along the arc of our lifetime, it burns hottest – and also generates the most light – in later life, after we have come to terms with the preconscious fictions that had been screening our present attention, and are finally ready to take responsibility for our life’s meaning.

Before that, any consideration of purpose tends to fasten too quickly on external goals and future objectives: things to work toward and hopefully accomplish.

But when all of that is finally seen for the veil it is, we realize that accomplishing one goal is just a setup for pursuing another, upon which achievement we again look to the future for the elusive answer to Why am I here? This question shouldn’t be confused with How did I get here? – which is a question of history. And it’s not quite the same as Where am I going? – which is the question of destiny. These questions are important, but they are not burning questions.

It is rather the question of intention. If my entire life till now has led up to this moment, and if this moment is the beginning of the rest of my life, how can I live it on purpose, with purpose, opening the lens of wonder, wisdom, gratitude and love upon the present mystery, right where I am?

 

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A Prayerful Life

In What About Prayer I responded to a question from a new blog follower, about whether prayer has any continued relevance after (post-) theism, at least in the version of post-theism I have been advocating for. He understands that post-theism is not hung up in the debate over god’s objective existence but is more interested in what our concepts of god say about us and where they may be leading.

It is not to be reduced to atheism, in other words.

In our personal correspondence, my friend referred to another post from nearly a year ago, entitled More Than You Think. It explores a new theory of mind based on the scientific fact that we possess consciousness-conducting cells, called neurons, not only in our brain, but in our heart and gut as well.

If that is the case, then it’s reasonable to at least consider expanding our definition of “mind” beyond what’s transpiring in our heads only, and to ask whether there might be distinct types of mind that engage us with reality in ways very different from the logical, rational, and discursive thinking we so revere in the (“heady”) modern West.

In this post I want to revisit that model of plural minds, but now with the explicit question on the table of what it could mean to our understanding of prayer. As we’ll see, the model provides a useful frame for appreciating both the ascendancy of theism and its necessary transcendence by a post-theistic spirituality.

My present interest is the continuing relevance of living a prayerful life after theism.

To get started, let’s begin with the etymology of our word “prayer,” which refers to the outreach of supplication to what is beyond us for something we need or desire – protection, provision, wisdom, guidance, comfort, healing, forgiveness, liberation, etc. To seek it outside ourselves is at least an implicit acknowledgment that we don’t possess it already, or at least believe that we don’t.

Both the spiritual wisdom traditions and contemporary science – and what the heck, let’s also throw in common sense – confirm the fact that we are not entirely self-sufficient and absolutely independent beings, but rather that we and every other life form are chronically deficient and profoundly dependent on relationships, resources, and ecosystems for our existence. By “chronically deficient” I simply mean that we need things, like oxygen to breathe, and that this need recurs as an urgency of life itself.

So then, there is a very natural inclination in us to reach out for (or open up to receive) what we need but don’t (simply because we can’t) possess.

Could this be the experiential origins of supplication? Is there already an implicit, maybe even an instinctual acknowledgment here that we rely on something beyond ourselves for what we seek as human beings? If it is rooted in instinct and the life process itself, is it not reasonable to expect that this inclination might find expression in the form of invocation, petition, thanksgiving, and even devotion as it rises into our more evolved human capacities for language, self-consciousness, and meaning?

So goes my theory.

Our logical mind is where the business of language, self-consciousness, and making meaning unfolds. It is what most clearly distinguishes our species from all the others, and it’s also where the illusion of our separateness is generated. By definition, ego is our separate center of self-conscious identity which divides reality – but actually only our perception of reality – between “me and mine” and “not me: other.”

Furthermore, the “I” at the center of this worldview is itself a social construct, a kind of negative space created by the gradual separation of “me” from “not me.” Into this negative space our tribe installs all kinds of codes, roles, values, and beliefs that conspire in shaping this animal nature into “one of us” – a well-behaved and conscientious member of society.

Historically a big part of this project has involved putting the developing ego into relationship with a Supreme Ego who is regarded as the higher intelligence behind the world, an absolute will above our tribe’s moral codes and ordained authorities, as well as the exemplar of virtues towards which we and our fellow devotees aspire. Just as our own separate ego-identity is a construct of language and entirely imaginary, the same is true of this Supreme Ego who stands in the role of patron deity: bestowing blessings and protection, providing for our atonement when we step off the moral path, giving us a longer and higher vision for our lives.

It’s important to understand – though virtually impossible for true believers to even consider much less accept – that this god is imaginary and not real, a literary figure (in sacred stories) and not a literal being (outside the stories), a theological construct and not an actual personality. The roots of this construct are metaphorical and grounded in that deep inclination to reach out for what we need, which at the level of our logical mind is security, identity, meaning, and purpose.

As it relates to my topic, this is where prayer is conversational, imagined as a kind of dialogue between “god and me” (and “us”).

As post-theism begins with the realization that god lacks objective existence, proceeding into meditation on what god means, those deeper roots of metaphor and the experience of deficiency, dependency, and supplication it images-forth lead us through the floor, as it were, of our logical mind. As we enter the sympathic mind of our heart, the separation of ego and other dissolves away and our world construct is left behind.

Here it becomes immediately evident that all things are connected, interdependent, and, as the Buddhists say, mutually co-arising. There is no “separate self,” no “alien other,” but rather a vibrant web in which self and other are “together as one,” partners in a larger reality.

“Heart-centered” prayer, then, is very different from the “head-centered” imaginary conversation where ego petitions god for what we need. Deeper into the web of life and our sympathic mind we send our intentions along the axons of communion, receiving and releasing, perhaps redirecting the flow to where in the web it is most needed. As a spider can feel the vibration of activity from far across its web, we also participate in a visible and invisible field of energy, matter, life, and mind.

Prayer is as spontaneous as taking a breath and giving it back, holding one another with gracious intention, living carefully and responsively on the earth, lifting our cup from the communion of life and offering our thanks in return.

We still have one more deeper level to go in our reflections on prayer as supplication. Far below our wordy world of identity (logical mind) and beneath even the vibrant web where all is one (sympathic mind), each of us is a living manifestation of being, of the ineffable mystery of be-ing itself. Here our intuitive mind (centered in the gut) lives silently in the cycling rhythms of our autonomic nervous system, metabolic activity, and physical existence.

This “grounding mystery” (as I call it) is not found by digging into other things, but only through engaging a contemplative descent within ourselves.

Each descending step of awareness entails a surrender of something we may be hanging onto – my tribe, my beliefs, my ego, my thoughts, this thought, thinking itself, the one who thinks he is thinking – until we enter a clearing of boundless presence. Such surrender is a third type of supplication, then, having now dropped below conversational prayer and even communal prayer, into contemplative prayer, where we are content to dwell, silently and with open attention, in the present mystery of reality.

 

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Living By Wisdom

Times of urgency and extreme hardship have the effect of either pulling us closer together or pushing us farther apart. Our present crisis is doubly hard, in that keeping our distance from each other is how we demonstrate our mutual care and respect. Reflecting on this strange predicament, I find myself turning once again to the great depository of worldwide spiritual wisdom.

Just as animal instinct has driven our survival and adaptation as a species over millions of years of evolution, our gradual rise along the gradient of cultural awakening has been building on an accumulation of insights and principles – what Aldous Huxley named the Perennial Philosophy. It is at once a product of our “love of wisdom” (philo-sophia) and a deep tradition that flows like an underground stream of enduring truths beneath the remarkable variation of world cultures.

As I said, suffering can move us closer or drive us apart. Whichever way it goes has everything to do with the depth of our empathy and breadth of our compassion. To me, these are not two words for the same thing. Empathy (“in-feeling”) is a function of our own individual grounding and thoughtful engagement with experiences of pain, loss, failure, bereavement, loneliness, disorientation, anxiety, frustration, and disappointment – in other words, with the more or less normal range of human experience.

A deep and thoughtful acquaintance with our own human experience attunes us, as it were, to the similar experiences of others. Compassion (“with-feeling”) is itself a symptom of our own self-understanding as limited, fallible, vulnerable, and dependent beings. Only one who has empathy by virtue of such an honest and humble self-regard can reach out to another with genuine understanding and love.

Together, then, empathy and compassion have provided the “lift” of our human awakening over the millenniums. By their internal-external, contemplative-ethical dynamic we have been slowly rising – with many setbacks along the way – into the liberated life of human fulfillment.

In recent times, and perhaps particularly in the North Atlantic capitalist nations, the erosion of community and a sense of belonging to something larger, deeper, and other than ourselves as individuals has put us at risk of losing our spiritual bearings. Just now, we need to bring those age-old principles of wisdom back out into the open where we can reflect on them, engage in dialogue with each other on their import, and work diligently to put them into practice – before it’s too late.

In this post I will offer what I regard as the five principles of spiritual wisdom found in the Perennial Philosophy, buried beneath the countless distractions of daily life and willfully ignored over many generations and by many of us, to our peril.

Wisdom Principle 1

Cultivating inner peace is key to making peace with others.

We cannot coexist well and get along with others if we are at conflict within ourselves. Our insecurities drive us to attach ourselves emotionally to what, and to whom, we hope will pacify our anxiety. But nothing and no one can make us feel secure, for the simple reason that existence itself is not secure. The harder we grip down on a pacifier, the faster it slips from our grasp, leaving us feeling rejected, abandoned, and resentful. So we try reinforcing our attachments with ultimatums, convictions, and guarantees, which only amplifies our fundamental problem.

The real solution, of course, is to release our demands, surrender the outward search for perfect security, and settle into our own center. Inner peace is an inwardly grounded and centered calm, a profound composure that is not borrowed or derived, but discovered again (and again) in the depths of our being. By its virtue we are able to make peace with others, creating relationships that embody and express its quiet and steadfast strength.

Wisdom Principle 2

Living for the wellbeing of the greater Whole promotes health and happiness for oneself.

With our focus (bordering on fixation) on the unique individual’s pursuit of happiness, the larger surrounding reality becomes little more than context, a static background for each person’s adventure through life. We take what we feel we need, and a little extra – or maybe a lot. Nature is here for us, the planet is ours. Other people are the supporting cast of our life story. The whole thing moves and gears together for our benefit.

Missing from this mindset is an awareness that “the whole thing” is not something else. We don’t occupy some privileged position apart from it all, from whence we can take our pick, gain possession, and toss aside what we don’t want. As Gregg Levoy says in his book Callings: Finding and Following an Authentic Life, “There is no ‘out’, as in ‘taking the garbage out’.” When we really understand and accept the fact that we all belong and are interconnected, our choices and behaviors begin to honor the wellbeing of the Whole. In the words of Chief Seattle, what we do to the Whole, we do to ourselves.

Wisdom Principle 3

Opening a larger frame with a longer view on life leads to better choices and fewer frustrations.

A correlate to the insight of how human health and personal happiness are expressions of wellbeing throughout the systems in which they belong is an almost intuitive sense of how actions here and today will inevitably bring about consequences later on and even elsewhere. When we lack inner peace, the churning anxiety within characteristically generates a sense of urgency, forging a dangerous amalgam of anxiety, aggression, and a mounting desperation. Our perspective collapses to the immediate horizon and nothing else seems to matter.

It’s probably unrealistic, psychologically speaking, to expect individuals who are feeling stressed and overwhelmed to open their frame and take a longer view on life. It is a proven fact, however, that strengthening this skill as a regular habit of daily living will serve as a prophylactic against anxious feelings and make it more likely that its benefits will be available when the time comes.

Wisdom Principle 4

Letting go of vengeance and practicing kindness instead provides space for damaged relationships to heal and community to arise.

It can be argued that a retributive reflex is coded into our animal DNA, causing us without thinking to snap back in retaliation when attacked. Our big and sophisticated brain has enabled us to spin a large web of associations around this experience of being attacked, to include also violations of trust, transgressions of values, false accusations, assaults on our character, social embarrassment, and slights of every kind. If any of these things should happen – or even if we feel they have happened when they really haven’t – a retributive reflex rises up and snaps back on our assailant. We can’t deny the sweet satisfaction we relish when we “pay back” what we feel is deserved.

This particular wisdom principle was one that Jesus made the centerpiece of his New World vision. He saw the damage all around him caused by the retributive reflex – between neighbors, social classes, ethnic groups, political parties, and religious denominations. With each assault, the injured one felt justified in getting even; which of course was then regarded by the original offender as unwarranted and demanding revenge. On and on it would go, tightening down and spreading out in greater damage with every turn of so-called “justice.”

The advice of Jesus? Hold back that reflex and make room for a different kind of response, one that returns good for evil, love instead of hate, creativity rather than destruction.

Wisdom Principle 5

Living only for oneself leads to loneliness, hypertension, and an early death.

This final principle from the Perennial Philosophy has more of a negative ring to it, counseling against the tendency in each of us to make it “all about me.” In a way, this principle is telling us, “If you choose to willfully ignore the first four wisdom principles, then there’s something for sure you can count on: You will suffer.” Not because someone is making us suffer, but simply as a natural outcome of our unrelenting self-obsession.

Loneliness, hypertension, and early death might be considered the three faces of a worldwide spiritual pandemic that has been spreading throughout our population for a while now. Like many other species, humans are social creatures, and our full development requires trusting bonds, healthy connections, mutual cooperation and creative dialogue with others. Deficient of such interactions we feel isolated and lonely, manifesting in our bodies as a syndrome of comorbid symptoms, chronic dysfunction, and a host of diseases placed in the curious category of “autoimmunity,” where the body eventually destroys itself.


I find myself wondering what would happen if we actually lived by the spiritual principles of our collective wisdom. How would the world be different if each of us cultivated inner peace, lived for the greater good, took a longer view on life, loved our enemies, and accepted our creative authority to be the difference we want to see?

No doubt, it would be a very different world.

 

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