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After a day’s reflection, and a little bit of adjusting to the re-entry, I realize that I just spent the last weekend participating in an event of unqualified beauty. There was simply nothing that was not beautiful about the three days I spent meditating with a couple dozen other Midwestern souls in a small retreat center in rural south-central Minnesota. There was pain, there was frustration, there was all the madness of our individual minds and the suffering of our bodies, but who we were and what we were doing there was nothing if not beautiful. This was my first residential meditation retreat with the Common Ground Meditation Center in Minneapolis, led by the wise, compassionate, adorable, and apparently ego-free Mark Nunberg.

If you are reading this, you probably already know about my experiences with the 10-day vipassana courses in the tradition of S.N. Goenka. You have read how transformative and freeing this practice has been for me. The Common Ground also practices vipassana, but with a broader interpretation than the very specific technique taught at the Goenka centers. At first I was a bit suspicious of this. The Goenka version is very rigorous and specific. The honing of single-pointed awareness followed by sustained attention to the sensations of the physical body leads to deep insight into the nature and construction of the mind/body phenomenon we experience as the self. It is a powerful method. I didn’t want to lose out on the benefits I know I have received from this.

The Common Ground approach to vipassana, on the other hand, at least on this retreat, was much more open to interpretation and variation of method. The daily timetable was similar to Goenka’s courses. Noble silence. The taking of refuge and precepts. Many hours of sitting each day. But instead of a specific technique, Mark’s instructions were simply “relax the body and mind.” No object of attention was suggested. Nothing in particular to try to do. Just relax and pay attention. Similarly, the theme for the weekend was simply “forgiveness”. More like gestures, images, or metaphors than specific instructions, we each of us went to work on whatever relaxing the mind and body and being mindful of forgiveness might bring forth in a few days of sitting quietly, eyes closed, mind (more or less) alert.

At the closing of the retreat, as the whole community gathered and each shared a bit of what had transpired that weekend, it was surprising and deeply moving to see how many different ways lives had been touched in a few short days. The simple instructions and broad theme were taken up, worked with, absorbed, and practiced in as many different ways as there were people in that room, and each and every one seemed to be touched by some different word or experience or insight that reached them exactly were it was needed for that person, in that place, at that time.

While Goenka’s method remains, for me anyway, a deeply effective means toward lasting change, there was nothing that I could fault with the experience with Common Ground. The fruit, the blessing, the liberation, the result of the practice is evident; the value incalculable. It needn’t be compared. The point is: sit. How rare to stop with the endless machinations of our daily lives, to stop and simply observe what is going on in there, in mind and body. It is not a particular technique or method, but awareness itself that opens us, brings forth transformative insight, and changes us, truly, for the better. And there is the beauty of it. There is nothing but good happening here, and in the company of so many others, that is an amazing thing.

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We are reaping what we have sown. The current economic implosion is not merely the consequence of foolish or unscrupulous practices in the world of big corporations and high finance, nor is it simply the fallout of the policies of a particular administration (i.e. Bush), nor the result of the reign of a particular economic ideology (i.e. neoliberalism). We are bewildered, frightened, and angry, and we want to know who to blame, but we need look no further than our own backyards. The present disaster is ultimately the result of the way we have chosen to structure our political and economic relationships to the earth and to each other, both in our personal lives and collectively as human beings.

This is not just an economic crisis, it is an ecological crisis, it is a political crisis, and, at its root, it is a spiritual crisis. This crisis didn’t begin with the sub-prime mortgage debacle, not with Bush, not with the dawn of free-market corporate capitalism. We have been in the midst of the current crisis for a very long time.

So why now? If the problematic nature of our political and economic relations to the earth and each other stretches way back (maybe all the way back) then why is everything going all haywire right now? The answer is globalization. This is a new era in the history of humanity. The expansion of the scale of human activity, power, and presence within the finite context of the planet earth has crossed a critical threshold. The earth can no longer absorb the consequences of our actions. The impact of our presence on earth has outstripped the capacity of evolution to adapt in a way that can sustain life. The reduction of friction* and increasing interconnectedness of human political/economic relations, the consolidation of power in geographically abstracted mega-corporations, the creation of a globally integrated and instantaneous communication and information network, the fast movement of huge amounts of money, all driven by the power of computers, has changed us. We as human beings now exist in a categorically different relation to the natural systems of the earth that sustain us. We have become too powerful, too fast, too effective. Because of the integrated nature of our globalized world, the consequences of our actions become immediate and far-reaching. There is less and less delay in both space and time between the moment of action and its global effects. But our wisdom has not kept pace with our power. Lacking wisdom, we have become the monster, the economic Frankenstein, of our own creation.

But what is the essence of wisdom? (more…)

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Minneapolis, MN – Building from my previous post on World Spirituality, I want to take a closer look at the relationship between Buddhism and Christianity, focusing on an interpretation of the particularly sticky and potentially enlightening matter of Jesus. What could the story of the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus mean in light of the Buddhist critique of substantialist notions of self, other, world, and God?

Typically the life of Jesus is understood within the context of a worldview or implicit metaphysic that assumes the autonomous, substantial existence of self, other, world, and God. Because of this assumption, the entire story of sin and salvation is interpreted in terms of power. The moment you posit the essential existence of self, other, world, or God, you set up a dynamic of relationships between those essentially existing things that is based on power and force of will. A struggle ensues as the claims of different selves and identity groups come into conflict with each other. Self-interest is born. The outcome is decided by means of strength. Human history becomes the story of the triumph of the self or group, whether through force or persuasion, over all obstacles and all others. The Christian salvation narrative usually assumes this substantialist metaphysic. The story of Jesus is usually told as an epic struggle in which the hero/savior, in perfect obedience to the will of a transcendent all-powerful God, vanquishes the enemies of sin, death, and the devil. Good overcomes evil, and the hero returns at last to gather the souls of the righteous together in paradise. The eternal fate of the individual soul is determined by God, who, on that great and terrible day, will judge all people. Depending upon your doctrine, you will be judged either according to the good or evil you have done, whether or not you have believed in the saving power of Jesus Christ, or according to God’s own predestined decree. The righteous, whether by works or faith or sovereign whim, go to heaven. The unrighteous, whether by sinful acts or unbelief or sheer bad luck, go to hell.

But Buddhists do not believe that such “things” as the self, other, world, and God exist, at least not in the way that we tend to think that they exist. These “things” have no self-existing or enduring substance or essence. There is no soul to be judged or saved. In fact, the belief that things have substantial existence is seen by Buddhists as the fundamental delusion at the root of all suffering. From that delusion springs the pursuit of self-interest, the “craving” and “aversion” which together with ignorance or delusion constitute the three “poisons” or root causes of all suffering. Once I believe that I exist in some substantial, lasting, or enduring way, I become very concerned about securing that self, establishing my own identity, getting the things I want, and avoiding the things I don’t want. I become willing to manipulate or harm others in order to secure for myself the things I need. Death is the greatest threat to self, and immortality becomes my ultimate concern. Traditionally, Christianity provides a solution to this dilemma that functions entirely within the assumed context of the eternal soul or substantial self. Jesus becomes a means toward the ultimate security of the essential self– the very thing that Buddhists identify as the fundamental delusion .

But what happens if we look at the story of Jesus without assuming this substantialist metaphysic? What does the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ tell us about the categories of self, other, world, and God if the Buddhists are right that such things don’t ultimately exist in the way we assume? Could it be that Jesus also was addressing this fundamental delusion? Could it be that Jesus’ own life and work was in fact a radical critique of the metaphysics of substance? If Jesus does share an intimate identity with his Father, as he seems to have claimed, then what does the life of Jesus reveal about the true nature of God? Does not the cross of Christ itself represent the crucifixion of our substantialist notions about God? Isn’t it the case that Jesus is so singularly redemptive for the very reason that he uncompromisingly reveals the true nature of self, other, world, and God– completely subverting the substantialist paradigm underlying the violent drama of human relationships? Isn’t the point of Jesus, finally, to show us in no uncertain terms that God is love? (more…)

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Ely, MN -

I’ll pick up where I left off some time ago,‭ ‬in two respects.‭ ‬One,‭ ‬as a continuation of my‭ “‬spiritual journey‭” ‬as described in my post on Vipassana meditation.‭ ‬Two,‭ ‬as an exploration of my second motivation for travel ‬which was to test a theory:‭ ‬What would happen if I abandoned all anxieties,‭ ‬agendas,‭ ‬and personal ambitions and simply remained open to whatever arose,‭ ‬trusting that the universe would cooperate in supporting and leading me wherever I ought to go? The following is an attempt to draw together some observations about the religious and spiritual practices I encountered in the various places I visited, to place them in light of my own experiment in risking unqualified trust, and to make some effort at beginning to articulate what I think the whole spirituality/religion thing comes down to.

The Story so Far – The Varieties of Religious Experience – Now It’s Getting Personal – Fruit – I Think It Goes Like This – Drawing Pictures – The Analogy of Color – Ego – The Politics of Identity – True Spirituality – Practicing Grace

A Brief Summary of the Story so Far or‭ “‬Stop me if You’ve Heard this One Before‭” (‬and skip to the next section‭)
I was raised as a Charismatic Lutheran- a curious combination of staid traditional Lutheranism and hands-in-the-air speaking-in-tongues Pentecostalism.‭ ‬Those were powerful years for me‭, full of hormone-driven teenage angst, passion, idealism and many undeniable experiences of the numinous.‭ As I went on to college, a series of personal crises challenged my fundamental beliefs and values. The assurance of faith began to falter, and I came to identify myself as an agnostic. I started exploring some of the secular philosophies I found most interesting‭ ‬such as Marxism,‭ ‬feminism,‭ ‬and various strands of what was then called postmodern critical theory.‭ ‬I also,‭ ‬for a season,‭ ‬developed a strong interest in the writings of Carlos Castaneda‭ (‬about the same time I was dabbling in hallucinogens‭)‬.‭ ‬But I was decidedly unhappy.‭ ‬I was plagued by depression and mental anomalies.‭ ‬The combination of intense critical introspection with the powerful discipline of drugs so disrupted the conceptual foundations of my reality that I found myself in a kind of pure state of negative enlightenment.‭ ‬I could find no foundation for meaning anywhere.‭ ‬I was desperate for some framework that could serve as a justification for my own existence,‭ ‬but I found none.‭ ‬Everything deconstructed.‭ ‬Ground zero.‭ (more…)

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Ely, Minnesota -I’ve been working through a book called How to Find the Work You Love by Laurence G. Boldt. It’s a great book, emphasizing the pursuit of a life that integrates work and meaning. He quotes Aristotle: “Where your talents and the needs of the world cross, there lies your vocation.” This simple sentence, Boldt says, tells you everything you need to know to find the work you love.

There are some exercises. One of the first is to formulate an orienting question that you can use to help shape your search for meaningful work. This should be a question that gets to the center of your own personal values, the heart of meaning. What are you looking for, really?

I’ve decided to post my Orienting Question(s) and the response I initially wrote (really a further elaboration of the question rather than an answer), because it brings up a lot of the issues I’ve been thinking and writing about lately. It’s a reflection of my own thought processes, an internal debate. It wasn’t really intended for an external audience. But here you go, anyway. Good Luck.

The Orienting Question(s):

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Igatpuri, India -Dhamma Giri, also known as the Vipassana International Academy, is the main hub for all the vipassana meditation centers throughout the world under the teaching of S.N. Goenka. Located in Igatpuri in the state of Maharashtra, India, the garden-strewn campus is set in a dry desert bluff climate reminiscent of the American southwest. There are several large pagodas surrounded by rows of individual meditation cells. There are a number of larger dhamma halls for group meditations and discourses, and men and women are completely segregated into different areas. It’s a slick and comfortable operation, accommodating hundreds of students per course. There is also a separate facility for old students engaged in long term courses, up to 90 days and even longer. The kinks of some of the less-established centers have all been worked out, and I found Dhamma Giri to be incredibly conducive to serious meditation. There are very few distractions, and even though there were hundreds of people at a time sitting in the main hall, they all seemed to be working very hard.

This was my fifth 10-day course and, in spite of (or maybe because of) the comfortable efficiency of the place, it was my roughest sit so far. I worked hard and without much internal or external distraction. The difficult part of meditation is also its greatest benefit: you get a real good look at yourself. The veils of delusion are systematically stripped away, and you stare unblinking into the truthful mirror, which can be alternatively deep and dark and sometimes far too bright. I went through it, boy, I can tell you. It ain’t easy. But in the end, there is no question; it is the single best thing I do for myself. Facing the reality of self and world. Looking at it. Seeing it. It is a process of purification, a refiner’s fire. It hurts like hell, but in the end, you emerge with a much greater degree of equanimity and awareness. So much happens in 10 days, it would take volumes to write it all down. But here are some notes and thoughts arising from this particular course. For a more detailed account of vipassana in general, some necessary background info, and a document of my initial experiences, see my original vipassana post.
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Mcleod Ganj, India -A simple monk. That is how the Dalai Lama describes himself when approached by the Western media, who invariably want to know, “Who are you?” But come to the Tibetan communities of Northern India and you will get a very different idea of who the Dalai Lama actually is. His picture hangs from almost every wall. Almost always he has a silly joyous grin, like he just ate a cookie or thought of something really funny. He has those big goofy glasses and simple saffron and gold robes. Those in the West who meet him say he is completely without pretension. They feel as though they were meeting an old friend. He exudes an aura of warmth and unconditional acceptance, without judgment, moving those in his presence to laughter or tears. But for the Tibetans, the Dalai Lama is like a combination of King and Pope, the head of state of the Tibetan Government in Exile and the most exalted lama of all the four major traditions of Tibetan Buddhism. He is believed to be the incarnation of Avalokitesvara, the bodhisattva of compassion. Many believe him to be fully enlightened, a living Buddha, the highest form of being there is.

The Chinese invaded Tibet in 1949, when the current (14th) Dalai Lama was only 15 years old. Ten years later, under brutal repression by Chinese forces, he fled into exile, making his home in Dharamsala, India (actually up the hill from Dharamsala, in Mcleod Ganj) and establishing the Tibetan Government in exile. Over 1 million Tibetans have died at the hands of Chinese; tortured, murdered, frozen to death on the long journey over the Himalayas in search of refuge. Over 6000 monasteries in Tibet have been destroyed, and those who remain are forced to denounce the Dalai Lama and undergo strict programs of “re-education”. The oppression continues unabated. In September of this year (2006), climbers on Mount Everest took video footage of Chinese troops firing on innocent men, women, and children at 19,000ft as they tried to make their escape out of Tibet. The suffering of the Tibetan people is almost unimaginable (see www.tibet.org), but under the direction of the Dalai Lama, they have responded to the Chinese with what can only be called compassion. Long-suffering, non-violent, patient. They have refused to adopt the mind of their oppressors, holding faithfully the basic Buddhist principle of causing no harm to any living being. (more…)

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