NewThangka

"Towards a Postmodern Middle," by Roger Jackson; from Buddhist Theology by John J. Makransky and Roger Jackson (Routledge,2000):

"At this point, nine years after taking refuge, my belief in the basics of the Buddhist worldview -- of those metaphysical doctrines I had first imbibed at Kopan, and sought for a decade to comprehend -- had almost completely evaporated. Logically, I should have stopped being a Buddhist. But I did not. I reached the end of my long skeptical inquiry and found that my sense of "being Buddhist" was nearly as strong as ever. How could this be? Shouldn't my painful awakening from religious dogmaticism have spelled the end of my relation to Buddhism? That it did not is due, I believe, to at least three separate factors, which may not be entirely idiosyncratic to my own personal history.

First, while over the course of time my confidence in the literal accuracy of metaphysical Buddhist claims weakened, other aspects of Buddhist doctrine and practice continued to seem irrefutable. In particular, I still found utterly compelling, and endlessly fruitful, (a) the central Mahayana philosophical claim that all entities and concepts are empty of self-existence because they are dependently originated; (b) the basic Mahayana ethical injunction, that one ought to be a compassionate bodhisattva, working as much as possible for the benefit of others, and; (c) the basic Buddhist claim that meditation -- whether concentrative or analytical, complex or formless -- is the best tool yet developed for disciplining one's mind, hence of altering one's way of seeing the world and living within it. All three of these perspectives, it seemed to me, were valuable quite independently of whether there are or are not multiple lives, does or does not exist a universal karmic law, is or is not a transcendent perfection like that ascribed to buddhas. In certain respects, to focus on emptiness, compassion and meditation, while letting Buddhist metaphysics go, is to make a move very much like that chosen by many Christians in the last two centuries: demythologizing one's tradition, and selecting from it certain doctrines that, whether or not they can be upheld in a traditional manner, seemed existentially meaningful and useful, regardless of one's historical or cultural situation. The advantages of such a demythologized, bare-bones Buddhism is that is allows one to preserve a core set of Buddhist beliefs and practices without having to subject oneself to the cognitive dissonance involved in trying to subscribe to "medieval" beliefs while living in a world shaped by modernity; its disadvantage is that it threatens to deprive Buddhism of the majesty of its vision, the mystery of its great narratives, the resonance of its art and rituals. Indeed, bare-bones Buddhism has little to differentiate it from secular humanism; one may as well read Camus as the Dhammapada.

There was, however, a second, crucial dimension to my sense of being Buddhist in a post-metaphysical mode, which put some flesh back on those bare doctrinal bones. Not only had my confidence in certain key perspectives survived my skeptical inquiry, but so too had my "feel" for the myths, symbols and metaphors, the sights, sounds and sensations of Buddhism. Subtly, inexorably, years of exposure to and internalization of these "aesthetic" aspects of the tradition had brought me to a point where they became the most powerful, single lens though which I viewed the world, a paradigm to which I had grown so accustomed that it seemed to form an a priori condition for much of my experience. So, my confidence in emptiness, compassion and meditation was not deprived of its rich, surrounding context; indeed, such doctrines and practices were for me quite inseparable from the scent of juniper incense on a cold morning, the sense or rightness I felt when prostrating to an image or circumambulating a stupa, the shiver sent through me by the very word shunyata, the sweet possibilities conjured by certain ritual songs, the mystery contained in the smile of a Buddha statue from Borobudur. Nor, despite my skepticism, did I separate those basic doctrines from the rich vision and language of traditional Buddhist metaphysics: I still could recite the Buddha's life-story, Mara and all, though I knew it bore little relation to what historians accept; could praise enlightened beings for qualities I doubted they, or anyone, literally could possess; could vow to liberate sentient beings in future lives I was not certain they would experience; could contemplate as primordially pure a mind I was not convinced was more than a byproduct of the brain. This "aestheticized" but non-metaphysical Buddhism has an advantage over the demythologized version of thoroughly engaging not just the intellect but all of one's imaginative and sensory powers, thereby providing a fuller context and greater incentives for belief and practice (see, e.g., Guenther; Trungpa). It is possible, on the other hand, to interpret such an aestheticized Buddhism as a mere exercise in nostalgia and self-delusion, a predictable by-product of the perpetual human need to create a vision, with reinforcing experiences, that will help make sense of a chaotic world. On such a view, an aestheticized and non-metaphysical Buddhism is the result of a cowardly compromise, in which one has the courage neither to accept traditional metaphysics in the face of modern doubts, nor to rest satisfied merely with those doctrines that stand up to the rigorous empirical and logical tests to which they, like all truth-claims, must be subjected.

The inadequacy of this critique of an aestheticized Buddhism lies, I believe, in a third factor of which I had become aware by the time I had finished my dissertation: the postmodernist discovery of (a) the impossibility of determining finally the "truth" of any particular worldview or vision, whether traditional or modern and (b) the inadequacy of defining religion on the basis of primarily core metaphysical doctrines, or determining the meaningfulness of a religion on the basis of the "correspondence to reality" of those metaphysical doctrines..." (pp. 223 - 225).

Seimiya-Flower

I had an interesting dream last night.  I entered into and merged with a sense of boundless space -- no forms, no experiences or discriminations for an indeterminate amount of time, until the world began to coalesce 'out of' this space, showing up first as transparent, luminous outlines, like a visionary field.  The interesting part of the dream for me was being at the 'edge' of space and form, where form was experienced as being 'pervaded by' and an expression of space.  At this edge, I recall a moment's pause, like a question, and then a distinct feeling of 'Yes.'  The transparent expanse of form filled out, becoming substantial, heavy, opaque, an abundant multiplicity of objects and beings.  This transition was very satisfying, and momentarily, I 'felt' all these distinct forms at once, not as one, but as multiple, teeming.  It was beautiful, precious, 'right.'

The next thing I remember is not the dream, but the waking 'me here,' looking out at the world.

Eph Forest Stream 800

Recently, through an essay by Ron Purser (a professor at San Francisco State University and a writer on TSK, Gebser, and related topics), I was introduced to the fascinating virtual art of Char Davies.  In the essay, Cyberspace and Its Limits: Hypermodern Detours in the Evolution of Consciousness, Ron discusses the potential for VR technology and interactive digital media to undergird a collective cultural shift to integral/aperspectival consciousness, as the development of perspectival vision and art in 15th century Europe helped support the transition from mythic to mental consciousness (using Gebser's terms).  Ron suggests that many current VR technologies (what he calls VR1) actually support a hyper-modern turn in consciousness -- a form of hyper-perspectivism, Gebser's "deficient phase" of the mental-rational structure -- but the recent emergence of creative, deeply interactive virtual media (VR2) may help support the collective evolutionary shift in consciousness and space-time perception that Gebser and Wilber envisage (and which TSK also describes).

In this blog, besides highlighting Ron's essay and directing interested readers to it, I wanted to introduce Char Davies' work.  Davies has created two fascinating immersive virtual environments, Osmose and Ephémère, both of which allow participants to interact with luminous, responsive, multi-layered worldspaces, which provide "an intriguing spatio-temporal context in which to explore the self's subjective experience of 'being-in-the-world' -- as embodied consciousness in an enveloping space where boundaries between inner/outer, and mind/body dissolve."  This is accomplished, in part, through the unique user interface -- a motion tracking vest, which is responsive to the user's breath and balance, allowing for a fuller, more embodied sense of environmental immersion than standard joysticks or data gloves. 

Osm Tree Pond 800

The first virtual installation, Osmose, was designed by Davies as a vehicle for exploring embodied consciousness in relationship to space (e.g., the enactive self/world interface) and to de-automatize perception.  Osmose includes a dozen worldspaces with which the immersant can interact, from natural settings such as Forest, Pond, Subterranean Earth, Lifeworld, and Abyss, to two "parenthetical" worldspaces -- Text and Code -- which are intended to evoke the conceptual "supports" for these virtual environments.  According to the reports of approximately 25,000 individuals who have experienced Osmose to date, the immersants often experience profound shifts in awareness and perception, feeling "as if they have rediscovered an aspect of themselves, of being alive in the world, which they had forgotten, an experience which many find surprising, and some very emotional. Such response has confirmed the artist's belief that traditional interface boundaries between machine and human can be transcended even while re-affirming our corporeality, and that Cartesian notions of space as well as illustrative realism can effectively be replaced by more evocative alternatives." 

Eph Seed Bloom 800

The second virtual installation, Ephémère, builds on Osmose, extending the environment to include organic worldspaces (organs, blood, bone), and incorporating a complex spatio-temporal architecture which allows immersants to explore various "levels" of space as they undergo constant changes through time.  While it is possible for an immersant to spend an entire session within one worldspace, "it is more likely that they will pass constantly between them, immersed in transformation.  Throughout, the various elements of trees, rocks, seeds, body organs, etc, come into being, linger and pass away. Their emergings and withdrawals depend on the immersant's vertical position, proximity, slowness of movement, and steadiness/duration of gaze, as well as the passage of time: for example, in the earth, seeds sprout when gazed upon for any extended length of time, rewarding patient observation with germination, inviting entry into the luminous interior space of their bloom."  As with the Osmose installation, participants report entering altered, contemplative states of consciousness within minutes after immersion.

Both installations represent the development of what Purser, in his essay, calls VR2 -- a creative, interactive tool with the potential to evoke and support integral consciousness.

"The integral potentialities of VR2 are apparent in several respects. The VR2 user, in constructing and interacting within a highly imaginative virtual world, draws upon long repressed magical and mythical dimensions of human consciousness. The richness and depth of the virtual world can inspire awe and appreciation for the myriad dimensions of consciousness that are co-present all at once. Virtual worlds in VR2 are evocative, requiring the user to consciously become aware of their participation in the figuration of appearances. Rather than repressing or disengaging the user's consciousness, VR2 turns the lights on, intensifying verition and active imagination. In other words, VR2 could open up human experience to a simulation of integral consciousness, providing a technologically mediated glimpse of a new vision, a new way of seeing the self in relation to the whole.

This is an exciting possibility, since it could potentially provide the capacity for people to express and participate in the creation of aperspectival virtual worlds. However, VR2 differs from VR1 in that it does not simply provide more surfaces to interact with, or a greater span of visuality. Rather, VR2 offers the possibility for entering into the interiority of space, of expanding inwardly into the depth of the image. In VR2, the user can, for example, see how a rainbow arises as an active construction or collective representation, involving both the user's perception, the image that is apparently distant, and the meaning-giving process that flows between percipient and the phenomena. In other words, the user would have the opportunity to actually experience what a participatory consciousness feels like in a VR2 environment. Experience within VR2 would evoke a meta-awareness of participation-as-observer."

I share Purser's excitement, and look forward to exploring this technology, if the opportunity arises.  Just reading the descriptions of the Osmose and Ephemere installations, I am reminded of a number of my experiences working with TSK inquiry.  For example, the following is from my TSK practice notes on 10/23/08:

It is evening and I have come to the school campus to walk the labyrinth under the trees.  Following the winding narrow paths between the rows of stone, looping around the same patch of earth again and again from new directions, I think about how space accommodates form, how every movement and shape plumbs its seemingly infinite potential.  I think about how these lines of stone both constrain movement and enact new potential, as our constructs similarly shape and guide our lives: so many ways that space can flower.  We seem always to move within limits, but ... is there a limit to the forms these limiting borders may take?  What richness is available for each new pattern to evoke, for each new pathway to enact?

As I move around the labyrinth, slowly tracing out this space within the larger space of the school gardens, sensing the movements of my body and the play of thought and image "within" me, listening to the rush of cars on the freeway not far away, I notice first a layering and overlapping of perspectives and spaces, which then seems to collapse and somehow become spaceless.  Turning a bend on the path, sunlight streams suddenly through the branches of the tree, illuminating the motes of dust hanging in the space under the branches and the watchful squirrels, and I experience the whole scene as somehow virtual, a patterned readout which overlaps with other readouts -- other perspective-spaces -- without obstruction.  I do not have the impression that the surrounding space I perceive isn't really "there"; rather, the patterned space in its all-at-onceness and givenness seems simultaneously not given, but read out, as the squirrels looking on read out their world, and the trees their own as well.

VR2 is certainly not "essential" for fruitful contemplative practice, but to the degree that it has the potential to evoke the sort of aperspectival space I described above, I think it could, indeed, serve as a powerful aid in the emergence of an integral/aperspectival cultural aesthetic.

Roots in Space

For our practice this week, we continued attending to the role of stories and narratives in our lives, while also taking up a formal exercise from Dynamics of Time and Space:  Exercise 9, Generating Space.  The first part of this exercise is similar to several practices we explored last Fall, but then the third part of the practice takes an unusual turn.

A. Sitting quietly, observe what is present and what is happening around you, noting how objects and events appear within dimensionalized space. Focus your observation on characteristics of the sort that we usually connect to space. Start with the attribute of distance or separation; then go on to such qualities as ‘between' or ‘inside' and such phenomena as edges and borders.

Initially, just become familiar with these elements of space dimensionality. Later, you can explore ways to open and loosen the categories you focus on so that they no longer function as firm distinctions. As such conventional space distinctions come under investigation, space itself becomes more spacious. You may notice that whatever you encounter in space shares in this newly spacious appearing.

B. Expand this way of making experience more spacious into the activity of perception through which objects become available. Each of the five senses-seeing form, hearing sound, smelling odor, tasting flavor, touching solidity-can become more spacious and open. Explore each in turn.

C. You can discover this same dynamic in the activity of thinking. As a method for exploring this dynamic, practice seeing the content of each thought as though it were a character in a stage play, dressed in its distinctive costume. Apply your inquiry to the experience of thinking (including associated feelings, images, and so forth) rather than simply to the content of what is experienced.

Later, bring into the exercise the content and significance of each thought.  In doing this practice, you may find that thoughts have a ‘body' that extends beyond their content; that the awareness of the mind and the openness of the heart are present as a kind of aura surrounding each thought. Practice expanding awareness into these domains. As you open them up, you may touch residual pockets of tension or emotionality that can be released in the course of doing the exercise.

When I had come across this exercise in my earlier study of TSK, I had always skipped over the last part of it, mostly because I didn't relate to it and I wasn't really sure how to work with it. But now, in the context of our exploration of story-telling, and after just having watched a movie related to these themes, I found it easier to make sense of this practice and I've enjoyed playing with it over the past few days.  I still don't know if I'm practicing it as intended, but in TSK that's not really a concern:  there is no presupposed "should be," apart from entering the flow of inquiry and trusting the knowledgeability of the moment.

I was actually a bit skeptical of the practice when I first started working with it this week, particularly the suggestion that I would find an "aura" around each thought, and that "expanding awareness" into these domains would release emotional tension.  And I struggled with the practice in other ways, as well, resisting the "reduction" of certain thoughts simply to "stories," fearing that such a move would isolate me in some way, maybe by putting me in a schizoid space of dissociation, or that it would otherwise deny or invalidate aspects of my life that I value.  For instance, early on I bumped up against these fears when I realized that I wasn't willing to have the thought, "I love my wife," rendered transparent by this exercise.  Calling it a story, transforming it into the pronouncement of a "stage-play character," felt threatening, demeaning, reductive.  It certainly could have that effect.  But rather than letting these concerns stop me from practicing this time, I decided to just make them part of the inquiry -- to acknowledge them and yet remain open to whatever unfolded. 

Image08

The practice surprised me in several ways.  The first surprise was how easy it was for me to personify my thoughts, to visualize them and transform them into distinctive characters, almost immediately as they arose.  My normal inner stream of verbalization transformed into a form of picture-thinking, in vivid dreamlike detail.  As thoughts arose, they carried with them emotional tones and intentional attitudes that helped me translate them, quickly, into distinctive characters.  This felt similar to the Big Mind or voice dialogue process: touching the many voices and presences that inhabit my psychic space - the critic, the narrator, the hurt child, the dreamer, the lover and poet, the analyst, the director, the angry boy, the appeaser, the aesthete or sensualist.

In the midst of this play of voices, I sometimes felt a twinge of fear, recognizing the plurality of my consciousness and the potential for fragmentation or disintegration.  I responded to this by letting the fear emerge as another character, creating space around it while also allowing it to continue with its pronouncements.

The second surprise for me was just how quickly this practice seemed to bring stillness to my thought processes: as each thought became a character with a voice, and as each affective tone or pressure underlying thought was similarly transformed -- "rounded out" and embodied -- I found that my stream of thought seemed to lose its compulsive steam, slowing down and sometimes opening onto moments of relaxed appreciation. 

I had not expected that "characterizing" thoughts, making them "players" in a story, would also help them emerge so fully and dynamically.  They became simultaneously more fictional and more present.  At times, this sense seemed to emerge spontaneously as I was going about my daily routine, looking out at the trees on campus, walking past a small lake -- a sense of luminosity, where thought and vision were equally vibrant and constructed, like flowers rooted in space.

Earlier this afternoon, while feeling frustrated by the heavy, frantic holiday weekend traffic and a tight schedule, I found myself awash in negative feelings.  They were present but unfocused, only partially acknowledged.  As I became aware of them, I felt into the knot of tension, which was largely in my forehead but which also spread out into my face and chest, and let this feeling emerge fully embodied as a character.  I saw him vividly, fuming in a contracted position, and I let him express himself - playing out his role, giving dramatic voice to his feelings.  As I (he) did so, the feeling of frustration quickly began to transform and dissolve.  A rich palette of feelings "bubbled through" and I expanded my attention to encompass and "enact" them.  Joy and wonder took the stage as the fuming man retreated, and the spacetime of my drive across town opened, becoming something playfully creative and new.