Friday, May 24, 2024

The Experience of No-Self

A friend in my meditation group recommended this interesting spiritual autobiography by the one time Carmelite nun Bernadette Roberts.  While obviously written from a Christian perspective, it's clearly a member of the 'dharma autobiography' book club (cf. Henry Shukman, Adyashanti).  Interestingly, despite the differing religious background, it has the same fundamental structure -- an initial awakening turns out in retrospect to be a stage in a longer journey to what feels like a final (non)-destination.  And perhaps even more interesting is all these authors' agreement on what is fast becoming a profound truism for me -- progress on the path is not measured by what you get but by what you lose.

Since there's little point in detailing the itinerary of a journey that already borders on indescribable, I will simply observe that the trip Roberts documents delivers on the title -- she loses her self.  While it seems to me that this makes it a pretty standard voyage in Buddhist terms, it apparently makes it a total outlier for Christians.  

Her spiritual trajectory had two stages.  The first was a loss of the small egoic self through immersion in the greater divine self.  Roberts has already written about this stage of union with the divine, which in her case lasted 20 years, and she considers her experience of it to be very similar to what other mystics like St. John of the Cross or Teresa of Avila have described.  So here she begins her story with stage 2, which is the loss of union with this 'true' divine self and the beginning of a path to having no self at all.  From a Christian perspective, this ends up sounding like a heresy that Torquemada would have had himself a little bonfire over.  As Nietzsche could have told you, losing all sense of personal self actually entails losing all sense of personal God as well.  

Presumably, this context explains why Roberts makes such a big deal about how she thinks the second part of this journey has been totally undocumented by any other spiritual practitioner, ever.  The feeling that she's had a unique (or almost unique, as we'll discuss momentarily) experience is of course what motivates her to write the book.  Because while she finds no similar account in 3,000 years of spiritual literature, she feels oddly sure that others after her may follow in her footsteps.  Other Christian mystics either did not experience, or perhaps were understandably loath to describe, this second stage.  She claims her only point of reference are some of Meister Eckhardt's writings.  She really feels she's describing uncharted territory.

While assessing whether Roberts' experience of stage 2 is unique among Christian mystical accounts remains above my pay grade, it seems rather bizarre to me to insist that no one in any tradition has experienced or described this falling away of self.  I mean, you can almost pick up any of the Buddha's discourses and find him talking about anatta.  Despite her claim to have searched spiritual literature "East and West" for a similar account to help her understand her journey, it seems more likely that she was put off by the failed communication she recounts with a single Zen monk and left her exploration of non-Christian traditions before they began.  Because what she describes is so similar to so many of the descriptions of seeing the non-dual unity of subject and object or form and emptiness that we find in Zen or Dzogchen or even Kashmiri Shaivist accounts.  In short, what she calls stage 2 seems to be exactly what every Buddhist simply calls Awakening.  And while she writes a fine description of her personal journey to Nirvana, it didn't seem to me to contribute that much to the many other accounts of the process and 'destination' that I've read in the past few years.  I enjoyed the book, but unless something changes dramatically, it's not where I'd return for guidance on how to walk this path.

Of course, if you're Christian, your mileage may vary.  Maybe the idea that there could be no self at all, not even a soul or divine  true self will seem phenomenally new and liberating.  I certainly agree it's a pretty profound idea.  In this case, you may appreciate Roberts' reframing of what seems a very Buddhist experience in very Christian theological terms.  Because her idea is that Christ's life is a parable for the pathway to no-self.  That is, Christ was the only other mystic who not only had but described her experience.  The journey to no-self gives meaning to his doubt (Psalms 22:1) as well as to his death, resurrection, and identity with God.  Roberts includes a long chapter towards the end of the book that reinterprets her experience several years after the process of awakening she describes.  This recasts her fresh and direct account in the first part of the book (which makes little mention of God and none of Christ) in terms more compatible with Christian theology.  While this is an interesting exercise that might help us reappraise the story of Christ's life, it felt rather like an act of intellectual contortionism given how Buddhism provides such a parsimonious paradigm for explaining her experience. 

Sunday, April 21, 2024

Overcoming Poor Posture

The physical therapist partner over at GMB teamed up with the author of Overcoming Gravity (which I haven't read yet but which I've frequently heard reckoned a classic) to write this brief guide to improving your posture.  While these guys are not going to win any literary prizes, and the book reads a bit like a long blog post, I found the information pretty useful.  An early chapter on the relationship between pain and posture was particularly interesting, since it argues that pain is only a protective mechanism, rather than a sign of damage.  This suggests an approach to pain that involves desensitizing the nervous system to positions it finds threatening.  Hence the importance of both mobility/stretching and strength training in letting the mind know that certain positions of the body might be less dangerous than it thinks.  The bulk of the book is a description of various exercises that you can combine to improve your posture, as well as a set of program recommendations.  Many of these are of course exercises I was already familiar with, but there were several that I wasn't aware of, some of which feel pretty awesome.  For example, I had never done a reverse hyperextension, or any segmental rolling, both of which feel pretty awesome.  The biggest benefit though, seems to be in simply going through all the exercises and paying attention to how the body feels in different positions.  Even without spending lots of time following their program, this has made me more aware of my tendency to round my thoracic spine forward, and the effect this can have on the lumbar.

Friday, April 5, 2024

Notes on Complexity

An esteemed colleague (Hobitronix 2023, personal communication) recently suggested Niel Theise's Notes on Complexity.  While Theise is an MD who made a career of specializing almost exclusively in liver pathology, his book is about the most sprawling and ambitious theory of everything you could imagine.  He'd like to link quantum physics, biological life, social organization, and non-dual spiritual awareness into a single framework.

However, since this is a priori a ridiculously ambitious project that is bound to fail, Theise tries to sneak up on us by first talking about complexity theory.  Perhaps because this is meant to be an accessible book for the general reader, Theise never really makes clear exactly what body of research he's talking about when he references "complexity theory" (check out this entry on the variety of things one might mean).  He seems to be referring to non-linear dynamics and chaos, and perhaps more generally to the type of thinking about emergence and self-organization that we associate with the Sante Fe Institute.   So we hear a bit about fractals, Conway's Game of Life, Wolfram's simple algorithms, Stuart Kauffmann's adjacent possible, Maturana and Varela, etc ... In other words, all the usual suspects are mentioned in passing.  His real definition of complexity seems to be just systems with many locally interacting parts that can display emergent behavior.  These systems can contain enough homeostatic feedback loops to support the emergence of stable "things", but have enough randomness and uncertainty for the things to do interesting stuff (he refers to this as "quenched disorder", a term I was unfamiliar with).  In other words, he's interested in the exact same types of cybernetic systems our colleagues over at FPiPE have been rambling on about for ages.  It's interesting stuff, and the writing is engaging and clear, but his discussion of it is pretty superficial and redundant if you've spent much time thinking about these things.

Despite the title, complexity theory is just a pretext.  Theise simply uses it to introduce the idea that things arise from the interaction of smaller things, and that, therefore, what we call things are better understood as patterns.  Cue the water and the wave analogy.  This view leads naturally into the idea that things don't have fixed and immutable boundaries but constantly changing ones that depend on their manner of arising.  After all, where does the wave stop and the moving water start?  Again, this fluid dynamic view of reality is, I think, fascinating and profound.  In an attempt to illustrate that this idea applies at any level of scale, there's some interesting discussion of research on the importance of random thermal motion in an actin-myosin contraction, followed by some vague gesturing at the Gaia theory, and the obligatory comments on the double-slit experiment and Schrodinger's cat.  Aside from the first, I can't say the Theise advanced my understanding of this viewpoint at all.  His point is just to argue that each level of the 'holarchy' (see ENDNOTE) arises through the self-organizing fluid dynamics of the level below.   This goes all the way down to the level of the quantum foam where virtual particles are created out of the, "seething energies contained within the space-time fabric of the universe" (end of chapter 8).  Since we can look at reality on any of these levels, we discover that, "everything only looks like a thing".  In fact, everywhere there is only the reality of pattern and process.  Theise concludes that we are one with the universe.  Which strikes me as an odd conclusion to jump to when discussing a universe capable of producing an endless and ever-changing variety of distinct forms. 

In the end though, this mystical conclusion is the core of Theise's book.  He waits until halfway through to spring it on us so that we're nodding along when the acid hits.  Turns out the Theise is a long term meditator (he does not specify exactly what flavor).  So he would like to jump from the general observation that things emerge from not-things (aka emptiness) straight to the idea that a spiritual Awareness is the fundamental nature of the universe.  The bridge between these seemingly only vaguely related ideas is meant to be the Copenhagen interpretation of quantum mechanics, which requires Consciousness to collapse the wave function into a determinate state.  In other words, our consciousness measurements of quantum phenomena correspond to the fluid universe of Consciousness self-organizing into a a particular form.  Now, while I sympathize with the desire to develop the philosophical implications of a scientific understanding of self-organization, I think this is where the book starts to go off the rails.  

First, we get a undergrad level survey of philosophical responses to the "hard problem".  These sort of whirlwind tours have started to bother me more the more philosophy I read because they just kinda mulch everything together into labels like materialist, panpsychist, monist, etc ... They never seem to involve a real encounter with the philosopher's they mention, so, for example Theise files Whitehead, Spinoza, and Kant together in the "idealism" section.  Broad brushstrokes like this never seem useful to me.  Second, we are abruptly told that anyhow, neither science nor philosophy can provide a way to understand the Consciousness or Awareness that constitutes the universe.  Instead, we have to appeal to the contemplative metaphysics.  Which begs the question of why we just took that sophomore survey course.  

The justification for this rather curt dismissal of pretty much the entire history of thought is meant to be the way quantum mechanics and Gödel's theorem ruined the logical positivism of the Vienna Circle.   So we get quite long, not especially insightful, overviews of these topics, which, if you are not already familiar with them makes them appear to "prove" things that they just don't prove.  In fact, his explanations of these two areas might even give you the impression that scientists and mathematicians simply threw their hands up and quit once Bohr and Gödel got finished demolishing everything.  While I would hardly pretend that we understand all the implications of these ideas even today, Theise would like us to think that the counterintuitive complications they point to license our "metaphysical intuition" to make the mental money printer go brrrrr.  In particular, he'd like Gödel to have proven that there are true and real things which we can only have access to through intuition.  Which, regardless of what Gödel himself may have thought, he did not prove.  After all, if intuition is so great, then why doesn't our original "intuition" that set theory should be both complete and consistent hold?  Indeed, both quantum mechanics and incompleteness seem to affirm that there are counter-intuitive things that nevertheless appear to be "true" in some sense (even if specifying this sense leads us down a bit of a rabbit hole).  So to conclude that, "... quantum mechanics and our encounter with Gödel show that metaphysical speculation is necessary for a complete understanding of the true nature of reality" (end of chapter 11) is akin to concluding that, since we'll never really figure it out, we'll have to just make it up.

Which of course is exactly what Theise proceeds to do.  The final chapter of the book is devoted to a very broad overview of the theory of everything you can find discussed in more detail here.  In fact, this overview is so broad that I don't even consider it fair to criticize the theory; I can't even tell you exactly how it works. [Note: after reading their paper I remain in the same position].  The basic idea seems to be that everything is "Fundamental Awareness".  This ur-state somehow splits into separated subject and object by creating space-time.  From that point we've already seen the rest of the chain, which progresses from space-time to quantum foam, to atoms, molecules, life, consciounsess, the universe and everything.  It's truly a theory of everything.  And the success of its all embracing agenda clearly revolves around what we mean by Fundamental Awareness.

Fundamental Awareness here seems to be defined as whatever it is Theise experiences when he meditates.  Obviously, the presumption is that if you meditate, you'll experience the same thing, and anybody else who has ever meditated has likewise experienced this same thing.  Or at least, the specific claim here is that Buddhists (which ones are not specified in the book, but the paper discusses Dzogchen), practitioners of Lurianic Kabbala,  Advaita Vedantists, and Kashmiri Saivists have all experienced the same thing, even though they have pointed to different aspects of it.  Since I'm actually a little familiar with three of these four, I can definitely agree that they share a family resemblance we might simply call non-dualism.  But to claim that they all share "the same" vision is going to lead us precisely nowhere, since whatever definition of sameness we might come up with would depend on some notion of identity equally anathema to all of them.  In a meditative context, this problem doesn't matter.  You experience whatever it is you experience when you meditate.   You associate with people who talk about it and incorporate it into their lives in a way you can understand.  You find teachers who open up more of that experience.  Insofar as you continue connecting with others regarding this experience, you might say that you have all had "the same" experience of this mysterious and intuitive realm.  This label is entirely redundant though; feeling connected is all that counts.  But as soon as we try to collect these perspectives into a single objective theory of everything, we have to leave behind this realm where every experience is equally valid, and start separating one theory from another, starting comparing them according to some criteria.  Unfortunately, Theise's whole argument has made it entirely unclear what sort of criterion would apply here.  He's literally just making stuff up.  He's explicitly discarded the rules of science and logic as a means of adjudication, but he hasn't replaced them with anything except meditative introspection.  So how can you engage with his theory at all?  It either feels right or it doesn't.  I kinda like it.  Reminds me of the pre-individual.  But, as they say, your mileage may vary. 

Tuesday, April 2, 2024

The Lady in the Lake

Chandler novels are the perfect thing to read on a plane.  They're pulpy enough to breeze through, yet interesting enough to hold your attention for hours trying to guess the next twist in the plot.  This one was perhaps my favorite.  While it might not have quite as much bizarre and hilarious patter as usual, it actually had a much tighter plot than the others I've read.  I found it particularly satisfying to almost figure out the twist, or, better said, to figure it out but incorrectly -- even the twist has a twist.

Thursday, March 21, 2024

Invisible Cities

I've been meaning to read some Italo Calvino for a long time, but it was Ursula LeGuin's mention of Invisible Cities in The Wave in the Mind that got me off the couch.  It's a brilliant, slim little volume carved into bite sized experiments in paradox worthy of Borges, Lem, and Chiang.  Just the intermittent frame story itself, based on the conciet of Marco Polo regaling Kublai Khan with stories of each of the cities he might well have visited, is worth the price of admission.  But beyond the sheer conceptual joy of watching a multi-headed hydra swallow each of its many tails is the beautiful craft of Calvino's writing.  The cover blurb is spot on when it alludes to what is possible on the edge between poetry and prose.  This is definitely on that will go on the #reread list that I have just now invented.

Wednesday, March 20, 2024

Nietzsche Project

I recently realized that there is a drawback to having two blogs.  Since this one is not a complete record, I never know where to search for a particular book I've read.  This is easy to rectify though with a short bibliography for each of various projects in which our esteemed colleague over at FPiPE has gotten enmeshed.  Since the Difference and Repetition liveblog project predates the 2020 reboot of The Capitalist Axiomatic, I'll skip that one.  And since the Plato project consisted of a single book Plato: Complete Works, it doesn't bear annotating.  The Nietzsche Project was a little more sprawling though. 

Carl Jung -- Nietzsche's Zarathustra (only Volume 1)
Martin Heidegger -- Nietzsche, Volumes 1, 2, 3, 4
Kathleen Marie Higgins -- Nietzsche's Zarathustra
Gilles Deleuze -- Nietzsche and Philosophy

Lectures on Shin Buddhism

This collection of lectures by Takashi Hirose was one of Irene's old books that migrated to our shelf in recent years.  One of the nice things about them is the way they dispense with almost all of the religious aspect of Buddhism.  With a different title, they could almost be passed off as existentialism.  Hirose, it seems, is most concerned with sparking any sort of religious feeling in modern man, and so the lectures center on the simplest sort of reflections on our life.  Who are we?  What are we doing here?  What should we be devoted to?  Given that these are introductory lectures intended for the general public, it's not surprising that Hirose's answers to these questions are neither terribly deep nor very specific.  In fact, the important thing to him is simply asking the question at all.  If that sounds both thoughtful and platitudinously true, then you're having the same reaction I did.  The only thing that will stick with me from the book is the introduction to the life of Gutoku Shinran, the 11th century Japanese monk who defrocked and got married as a demonstration that the Buddha's message applied to laypeople as well as monk's.  This "foolish baldheaded Shinran" went on to found a Pure Land sect that remains the most widely practiced branch of Buddhism in Japan.