In this final session, noted researchers, including the heads of some of the most renowned medical centers in the US, synthesized and presented what they had learned during the conference, and presented their visions for the future. These talks were, without exception, heartfelt and quite moving.
Ben Shapiro noted some issues in studying meditation using scientific protocols. One type of obstacle involves credibility: there remains some skepticism of psychosomatic illness as somehow “not real”; and there is a tendency to disregard the expertise of meditators.
When actually conducting a clinical trial, such standard procedures as randomization and proper controls are more difficult when the “treatment” is meditation practice.
From an ethical standpoint, meditation practices are grounded in religious tradition, which provides a framework for ethical behavior. He wondered how to maintain a standard of morality in meditation research when these techniques are figured for mass consumption. We are dealing with the deep structure of the human mind, after all.
Ralph Snyderman of Duke University noted that medicine and Buddhism have a shared goal of healing and freedom from suffering. It is stupendous to learn that mental training affects both the structure and function of the brain, and through regulation of hormone levels, impacts a person’s physiology. By the same token, repeatedly entertaining destructive emotions also remodels the brain to perpetuate same, and causes health problems in the body. Even in advanced cases, symptoms can be alleviated by mental training.
Buddhist technologies of mind can alleviate mental and physical suffering in otherwise “normal’ people, by attenuating the pathology as well as the pain of a condition (e.g. psoriasis).
He noted a few milestones of medicine: in the 1600s the heart was understood as being a muscle that pumps blood; previously it was more of a magical object. In 1847 Dr Somelweiss developed a germ theory of disease in response to the scourge of “childbirth fever”, and was enthusiastically reviled for same.
The current shortsightedness of medicine, he said, is in imagining disease has having a) a single that b) can be “fixed”. Contact with a doctor is sporadic: it happens when one is ill, and in response to a problem. Furthermore, the doctor is held (by all parties involved0 to be the authority on a person’s health. People often can’t or won’t assume responsibility for their own well-being.
Right now two major public health crises are going unmet. One is the prevalence of drug use and violence in our society. Another is the ubiquity of chronic diseases caused by lifestyle. Among the ethical values we should incorporate into our lives, we should avoid abusing our own bodies.
The next commentator was Wolf Singer, who had earlier presented research describing coordination and synchrony of brain activity as a possible mechanism of attention, intention, meditation and “eudemonic well-being”.
I must admit that I have exhibited some bias in not including this data in my summaries of the meeting. To be honest, I was not able to follow his presentation-- the most academic of them all—well enough to feel comfortable either summarizing or evaluating his findings. Really, material at that level merited a more in-depth discussion than was possible given the constraints of the presentations.
No event on the scale of Mind & Life XIII can be all things to all people, and in this case the technical aspects of experimental design and findings were sacrificed in order to present material suitable for not a just a scientific layperson, but a completely naïve audience whose main experience with the material lay in having minds themselves.
Those of us with some experience in scientific discipline would have appreciated a more thorough discussion of the research. At the very least, a poster session would allow the aficionados to engage with the material on a more technical level.
But I digress. Here are my notes, which paraphrase Dr Singer’s words, hopefully to some degree of accuracy:
Brains aren’t omniscient by have evolved to optimize survival. They focus on material objects in the relative world. We have a poor understanding of complex systems; rather we focus on models that allow useful predictions about the future. We preconceive the world as simple and linear, and imagine the brain to contain a “mover” and to function like clockwork.
The assumption of linearity leads to the conclusion that there must be a “mover”. How incredible the internal misunderstanding by which we can’t see our own functioning, and can’t see how our minds really work.
One of the Commentators: There is a focus on analytical sciences in the West, which purport to study reality from outside the system, from a “third person” perspective. In the East, the focus has been on developing an understanding of the inner world—working from a first person perspective.
Wolf Singer: Which view is correct? A scientist has means at her disposal to confirm her findings. From an intuitive approach, how does the brain know it’s right?
(From here there followed a discussion of the neurobiology of “a question being answered.”
Commentator: Perhaps “result” states correlate to a sustained pattern of synchrony (the topic of Dr Singer’s presentation) that persist long enough to convince the intellect that an answer has been reached, via that pleasant “Aha! Yes…” feeling.
Perhaps we strive for those pleasant (sustained synchrony) states when controversies are resolved. Perhaps meditation allows various agents to become parallel and find peace, and a sense of “answer.”
Singer: Do we rely on the wisdom of the ages, relayed by meditation practitioners, to find answers to the nature of Mind?
His Holiness; Brain and Society are two complex systems on different scales. A single neuron has no notion of generating consciousness or being part of a broader process. Just as the individual sees only the local environment and the limited scale of immediate experience. There is a similar lack of comprehension of what it means to be embedded in the great body of life. We have not been “built” to understand such things. And we cannot deliberately steer a direction by means of linear thinking and action. Sensing the complexity of the system, we feel despair that the much-loved Self cannot control everything. There’s the danger of a collective depression…and concomitant delusive behavior.
We must see beyond the Self…and embrace uncertainty. Long-distance compassion is now necessary in a global community.
This is not to say we should abandon the Western notion of self and the scientific attitude, but we can see through the selfish self, and foster a view of science as one discipline among many.
Asked to account for the emergence of consciousness and mental processes, His Holiness said, ”There is no fixed, unchanging ‘I’.” Rather there is a coming-together or two things: brain and mind. You cannot find the self within its own reality.
Ancient Indian thought (Buddhist and otherwise) supposed that, besides the physical and mental bases of the self, there are constructs, whose reality can only be understood on the basis of something other than itself.
In asking, “how do we know things are true,” His Holiness noted that there is a distinction between sensory perception and mental understanding. According to Madhymaka philosophy, a valid mental event must a) relate to the object and b) not be contradicted by other valid experiences. To that the Buddhist worldview would add that c) it should not be controverted by insight into the deeper nature of reality.
Wednesday, November 30, 2005
Mind & Life XIII--Day 3 Overview (part 2)
Matthieu Ricard explored the concept of Sukkha as well-being, an optimal state, a healthy quality that suffuses all emotional states and conditions. It is a wholesome way of being that endures in all conditions; regardless of the weather at sea, the sea itself is clean and unpolluted.
Hedonic pleasures: get old and eventually prove exhausting.
Well-being/sukkha: confers strength, freedom, compassion; continued experience and understanding of it allows it to deepen and endure.
Exacerbated self-concern is a prime source of insecurity. (Remember, we learned that perceived attack on the “self” leads to physical pathology.)
Genuine self-confidence in not about a triumphant ego, but lies in breaking the bubble of the Self, dissolving the target, and gives rise to a deep compassion, work for the benefit of others, and an end to hopelessness.
(I love this guy!)
Sukkha, as a particular kind of well-being, addresses themes of self-interest, anxiety and true health.
Practice progresses slowly—like watching the hands of a clock. If the hands haven’t moved after some time—if you aren’t more compassionate and less anxious, then the practice isn’t working!
Father Keating: Early Christians accepted two types of revelations: scriptures and nature (!) He said the proceedings are “telling me more about G-d than anything else. Because I’ve read the scriptures.”
The Garden of Eden story is fundamentally about humans tempted to become G-d. Do you want to become G-d on G-d’s terms? Or on your own terms? If the latter, you’re out of paradise, bereft, and don’t become G-d at all.
This is very significant for the health professions: life “on my own terms” is an illusion that doesn’t work, and doesn’t make us healthy or happy. People have no idea where true happiness is to be found, and are seeking in all the wrong places. Or if they find some truth, the person is too morally weak to do anything about it.
To be “healthy” is to accept our weakness, to acknowledge that we need others, and to see the fate of others seeking happiness in all the wrong places.
He spoke of the “post-conceptual, intuitive presence of Reality,” called Love. Love is knowing at the deepest level, beyond a “self.” This is seeing G-d (however you name It—“God has been called a lot worse things than ‘God’!”) on its own terms.
Our whole being emerges from this presence—this is tender, loving, motherly, concerned—health-giving—and given gratuitously, with the invitation that, as G-d is our host, so are we to pass on to humanity the great truth that we are receiving.
Fr. Keating continued by saying that his work now is in recovering the Christian contemplative tradition, which has fallen into neglect, and some opposition. Christians need to be converted!
Of the practice of Silence, he said this is listening more deeply than ears or heart can go. Listening to that energy which is everything, and nothing.
It doesn’t matter how you sit, but you must discontinue habits of looking for happiness in the wrong places. It is this which makes us ill.
Someone at this point noted, “The greatest impediment to knowledge is not ignorance by the illusion of knowledge.”
His Holiness: The validity of a moment of cognition can only be determined in relation to other elements.
A theory or discipline should be checked-out by comparing notes with other, perhaps radically-different, perspective.
Some misconceptions about religion, and interreligious dialogue:
-- That religions contradict one another, and “cancel out”, leaving only science as a measure of truth.
-- that the contemplative traditions involve progress towards some “right” answer, to be verified or rejected by one’s teacher
He further advocated a return to empiricism, not resting with doctrinal answers, but comparing notes on the deepest experiential level to see if a convergence between religions can be found.
Sylvia Boorstein: Compassion is easy to hold as an ideal, but kindness, its active manifestation, is often held to be a secondary virtue, something to settle for if you can’t have power, etc. In fact, kindness is a major force for wholesomeness and good!
She then asked the Dalai Lama how compassion related to one’s ability to do something about a problem.
He responded that compassion is about more than empathy; aided by wisdom, it also involves seeing the causes of a situation, and the possibility of freedom from suffering. Compassion as the simple wish to not see others suffer can lead to a sense of helplessness. Insight into the situation enables us to see how we can help. The apogee of compassion is “Great Compassion”, the motivation to seek enlightenment for the benefit of all beings.
Jon Kabat-Zinn wrapped things up thus:
we have a fleeting chance in this human lifetime to move closer to What We Actually Are, to really embody mindful awareness.
”The bell has rung,” the reverberations will continue, and their impact is yet unknown.
Your job is to ask where your deepest questions come from—What is my job on this planet? As a sentient human, awake to my own awareness and vast potential, how can I be of service?
Hedonic pleasures: get old and eventually prove exhausting.
Well-being/sukkha: confers strength, freedom, compassion; continued experience and understanding of it allows it to deepen and endure.
Exacerbated self-concern is a prime source of insecurity. (Remember, we learned that perceived attack on the “self” leads to physical pathology.)
Genuine self-confidence in not about a triumphant ego, but lies in breaking the bubble of the Self, dissolving the target, and gives rise to a deep compassion, work for the benefit of others, and an end to hopelessness.
(I love this guy!)
Sukkha, as a particular kind of well-being, addresses themes of self-interest, anxiety and true health.
Practice progresses slowly—like watching the hands of a clock. If the hands haven’t moved after some time—if you aren’t more compassionate and less anxious, then the practice isn’t working!
Father Keating: Early Christians accepted two types of revelations: scriptures and nature (!) He said the proceedings are “telling me more about G-d than anything else. Because I’ve read the scriptures.”
The Garden of Eden story is fundamentally about humans tempted to become G-d. Do you want to become G-d on G-d’s terms? Or on your own terms? If the latter, you’re out of paradise, bereft, and don’t become G-d at all.
This is very significant for the health professions: life “on my own terms” is an illusion that doesn’t work, and doesn’t make us healthy or happy. People have no idea where true happiness is to be found, and are seeking in all the wrong places. Or if they find some truth, the person is too morally weak to do anything about it.
To be “healthy” is to accept our weakness, to acknowledge that we need others, and to see the fate of others seeking happiness in all the wrong places.
He spoke of the “post-conceptual, intuitive presence of Reality,” called Love. Love is knowing at the deepest level, beyond a “self.” This is seeing G-d (however you name It—“God has been called a lot worse things than ‘God’!”) on its own terms.
Our whole being emerges from this presence—this is tender, loving, motherly, concerned—health-giving—and given gratuitously, with the invitation that, as G-d is our host, so are we to pass on to humanity the great truth that we are receiving.
Fr. Keating continued by saying that his work now is in recovering the Christian contemplative tradition, which has fallen into neglect, and some opposition. Christians need to be converted!
Of the practice of Silence, he said this is listening more deeply than ears or heart can go. Listening to that energy which is everything, and nothing.
It doesn’t matter how you sit, but you must discontinue habits of looking for happiness in the wrong places. It is this which makes us ill.
Someone at this point noted, “The greatest impediment to knowledge is not ignorance by the illusion of knowledge.”
His Holiness: The validity of a moment of cognition can only be determined in relation to other elements.
A theory or discipline should be checked-out by comparing notes with other, perhaps radically-different, perspective.
Some misconceptions about religion, and interreligious dialogue:
-- That religions contradict one another, and “cancel out”, leaving only science as a measure of truth.
-- that the contemplative traditions involve progress towards some “right” answer, to be verified or rejected by one’s teacher
He further advocated a return to empiricism, not resting with doctrinal answers, but comparing notes on the deepest experiential level to see if a convergence between religions can be found.
Sylvia Boorstein: Compassion is easy to hold as an ideal, but kindness, its active manifestation, is often held to be a secondary virtue, something to settle for if you can’t have power, etc. In fact, kindness is a major force for wholesomeness and good!
She then asked the Dalai Lama how compassion related to one’s ability to do something about a problem.
He responded that compassion is about more than empathy; aided by wisdom, it also involves seeing the causes of a situation, and the possibility of freedom from suffering. Compassion as the simple wish to not see others suffer can lead to a sense of helplessness. Insight into the situation enables us to see how we can help. The apogee of compassion is “Great Compassion”, the motivation to seek enlightenment for the benefit of all beings.
Jon Kabat-Zinn wrapped things up thus:
we have a fleeting chance in this human lifetime to move closer to What We Actually Are, to really embody mindful awareness.
”The bell has rung,” the reverberations will continue, and their impact is yet unknown.
Your job is to ask where your deepest questions come from—What is my job on this planet? As a sentient human, awake to my own awareness and vast potential, how can I be of service?
Thursday, November 24, 2005
Letter from Nothern Ireland 2
11-24-05
Hi Meave,
The task of charming my way through the North of Ireland continues. I had the pleasure of spending the first part of the day with two gentlemen I met last night at a small zen sitting at a “Peace Farm” outside of Portstewart. Michael met me in the morning and took me out to see Giant’s Causeway. The stepping-stones themselves are not as dramatic as they make it look in the postcards, but everything else was just tremendous.
The day was so windy and blustery that the sea was a mas of white, just roiling and sudsy. Gusts of wind would fling clouds of sea foam in to the air, and they’d be airborne thirty feet up, and land like little jellyfish on the heather. The path wound around the side of a cliff, and the wind was so strong that it was hard to walk. I never thought you could be blown backward while walking downhill! It was quite exhausting.
The columnar basalt hexagons that make up the walkway pavers are about the size you could wrap your arms around, but in places they reach up to the sky, it seems.
My camera batteries chose this time to expire.
Michael and I walked back uphill, knowing we’d have some help from the wind, but never suspecting what would happen. You stretch out your arms, lift up your feet and…you’re running. Running out of control, pushed by the wind. Up a very steep hill!
We had a snack of bananas and yogurt looking at Dunluce Castle, and talked. Michael was born in the Bogside in Derry and was sent to live with relatives in Donegal when he was little. Before television came, nobody in this little fishing village knew they were poor. They had thatched roofs and cooked in kettles hung over the fire. At his uncle’s place, fish hung to dry in the rafters. At night, people would leave their doors open and go visiting up and down. In the late 50s his aunt got one of the first televisions. When a program was over, they’d look up and see that the room was full of neighbors who’d crept in to watch.
Although Michael never thought of himself as disadvantaged, there was one time he caught sight of a little Protestant boy with huge shiny cheeks on him, and Michael remembers thinking that nobody he knew was in a position to have extra fat like that.
When he was in Donegal his uncle arranged for him to meet the oldest man in the area, who was 108. Little Michael was met by the man’s son, who had come to town with some money his father had given him in order to buy shoes. The son was 79 years old, with bleary eyes, and Michael could hardly fathom that this very old man himself had a father. The oldest man turned out to be tiny, just a wee shrunken man with bright eyes and a long white beard. He was so happy to have a guest, and he chattered away at the little boy.
On our way too and from the Causeway, we passed through the town of Bushmills. Although it’s seen as a quintessentially “Irish” whiskey elsewhere in the world, Bushmills is so Loyalist as to be Scottish. The town had that hard edge of a community that is fighting against something; there was a tangible forbidding air to it. It wasn’t a place you’d want to stop for tea.
Michael said when he went to Israel, he was told, “if you get a Palestinian guide, you’ll be Palestinian; if you get an Israeli guide, you’ll be Israeli.” After a morning hearing about life as a Catholic in an era when Catholics were poor and had no civil rights, I was about to visit the other side.
We met Billy, my other host from the meditation group, at a café with a sweeping view of the Portstewart waterfront. The wind was still whipping things up, and the waves were crashing over the sea wall in places.Time for a cup of tea.
Billy and I drove to Derry, through Limavady, the area where he grew up. It was some of the most beautiful farmland I’ve ever seen. We went for a walk round Derry’s town wall, which is a stunning piece of human work. Really worth a visit. The walls held King James at bay for over a hundred days, and the people inside were eating dogs and rats and whatever they could find.
Billy told me about being a little boy and how exciting it was to see the marches and merriment leading up to Christmas. Right outside his house in the town, they would burn a thirty-foot effigy of the man who tried to sue for peace during King James’ siege of Derry. A group of apprentice boys grabbed the keys and prevented him turning over the city. Finally the king left, and the apprentice boys were heroes, the peacemaker the villain. It was thrilling to see that burning man every year-- no trip to a remote desert required!
As we got over to the Bogside area, we could look down from the wall and see some of the murals and the back of the“You are Now entering Free Derry” sign. Billy pointed out the Catholic cathedral whose courtyard figured in Bloody Sunday, and the mural of Bernadette Devlin, the Republican who bodily attacked the Home Secretary on the floor of Parliament the next day. The shock of those events was still evident in his voice.
Everywhere there are survelliance cameras, even more than in most towns in the North. A looming radio survelliance tower on the Bogside side of the city wall is to be torn down; it really is a threatening-looking behemoth of fear. In any public place, you are on at least five cameras. It's quite disconcerting, and I'm thinking I won't go back there after my sidetrip to Galway.
I find that I’m not very interested in visiting “political” hotspots. Driving through Bushmills was enough to remind me that partisan graffitti, murals, flags, etc. are all hallmarks of a festering wound. Investigating the wound and renewing its sting in my own heart doesn’t interest me. I am very interested, however, in how people turn towards healing it.
It shouldn’t be surprising, but I am quite impressed that the Zen pracitioners I’ve met are a mixed-background lot, and that they are able to talk about the rhetorical excesses of each side with equanimity and humor. To pursue an interest in meditation seems to require a proclivity for thinking outside the confines of sectarian boundaries. To hear the practitioners in Belfast talk about the well-meaning missteps of the Ulster-Scots language movement was like hearing Portlanders discuss the bizarre habits of stereotypical small-town Oregonians.
Among the more charming un-PC missteps involved in transalating offical government documents into Robert-Burns-style dialect: "disabled children" comes out as "wee dafties." Modern terms are a challenge as well. For "telephone" they came up with "langblather"!
I have a sore throat and have been losing my voice. Interestingly enough, this makes my accent much less prominent.
Take care, sweetie,
Delia
Hi Meave,
The task of charming my way through the North of Ireland continues. I had the pleasure of spending the first part of the day with two gentlemen I met last night at a small zen sitting at a “Peace Farm” outside of Portstewart. Michael met me in the morning and took me out to see Giant’s Causeway. The stepping-stones themselves are not as dramatic as they make it look in the postcards, but everything else was just tremendous.
The day was so windy and blustery that the sea was a mas of white, just roiling and sudsy. Gusts of wind would fling clouds of sea foam in to the air, and they’d be airborne thirty feet up, and land like little jellyfish on the heather. The path wound around the side of a cliff, and the wind was so strong that it was hard to walk. I never thought you could be blown backward while walking downhill! It was quite exhausting.
The columnar basalt hexagons that make up the walkway pavers are about the size you could wrap your arms around, but in places they reach up to the sky, it seems.
My camera batteries chose this time to expire.
Michael and I walked back uphill, knowing we’d have some help from the wind, but never suspecting what would happen. You stretch out your arms, lift up your feet and…you’re running. Running out of control, pushed by the wind. Up a very steep hill!
We had a snack of bananas and yogurt looking at Dunluce Castle, and talked. Michael was born in the Bogside in Derry and was sent to live with relatives in Donegal when he was little. Before television came, nobody in this little fishing village knew they were poor. They had thatched roofs and cooked in kettles hung over the fire. At his uncle’s place, fish hung to dry in the rafters. At night, people would leave their doors open and go visiting up and down. In the late 50s his aunt got one of the first televisions. When a program was over, they’d look up and see that the room was full of neighbors who’d crept in to watch.
Although Michael never thought of himself as disadvantaged, there was one time he caught sight of a little Protestant boy with huge shiny cheeks on him, and Michael remembers thinking that nobody he knew was in a position to have extra fat like that.
When he was in Donegal his uncle arranged for him to meet the oldest man in the area, who was 108. Little Michael was met by the man’s son, who had come to town with some money his father had given him in order to buy shoes. The son was 79 years old, with bleary eyes, and Michael could hardly fathom that this very old man himself had a father. The oldest man turned out to be tiny, just a wee shrunken man with bright eyes and a long white beard. He was so happy to have a guest, and he chattered away at the little boy.
On our way too and from the Causeway, we passed through the town of Bushmills. Although it’s seen as a quintessentially “Irish” whiskey elsewhere in the world, Bushmills is so Loyalist as to be Scottish. The town had that hard edge of a community that is fighting against something; there was a tangible forbidding air to it. It wasn’t a place you’d want to stop for tea.
Michael said when he went to Israel, he was told, “if you get a Palestinian guide, you’ll be Palestinian; if you get an Israeli guide, you’ll be Israeli.” After a morning hearing about life as a Catholic in an era when Catholics were poor and had no civil rights, I was about to visit the other side.
We met Billy, my other host from the meditation group, at a café with a sweeping view of the Portstewart waterfront. The wind was still whipping things up, and the waves were crashing over the sea wall in places.Time for a cup of tea.
Billy and I drove to Derry, through Limavady, the area where he grew up. It was some of the most beautiful farmland I’ve ever seen. We went for a walk round Derry’s town wall, which is a stunning piece of human work. Really worth a visit. The walls held King James at bay for over a hundred days, and the people inside were eating dogs and rats and whatever they could find.
Billy told me about being a little boy and how exciting it was to see the marches and merriment leading up to Christmas. Right outside his house in the town, they would burn a thirty-foot effigy of the man who tried to sue for peace during King James’ siege of Derry. A group of apprentice boys grabbed the keys and prevented him turning over the city. Finally the king left, and the apprentice boys were heroes, the peacemaker the villain. It was thrilling to see that burning man every year-- no trip to a remote desert required!
As we got over to the Bogside area, we could look down from the wall and see some of the murals and the back of the“You are Now entering Free Derry” sign. Billy pointed out the Catholic cathedral whose courtyard figured in Bloody Sunday, and the mural of Bernadette Devlin, the Republican who bodily attacked the Home Secretary on the floor of Parliament the next day. The shock of those events was still evident in his voice.
Everywhere there are survelliance cameras, even more than in most towns in the North. A looming radio survelliance tower on the Bogside side of the city wall is to be torn down; it really is a threatening-looking behemoth of fear. In any public place, you are on at least five cameras. It's quite disconcerting, and I'm thinking I won't go back there after my sidetrip to Galway.
I find that I’m not very interested in visiting “political” hotspots. Driving through Bushmills was enough to remind me that partisan graffitti, murals, flags, etc. are all hallmarks of a festering wound. Investigating the wound and renewing its sting in my own heart doesn’t interest me. I am very interested, however, in how people turn towards healing it.
It shouldn’t be surprising, but I am quite impressed that the Zen pracitioners I’ve met are a mixed-background lot, and that they are able to talk about the rhetorical excesses of each side with equanimity and humor. To pursue an interest in meditation seems to require a proclivity for thinking outside the confines of sectarian boundaries. To hear the practitioners in Belfast talk about the well-meaning missteps of the Ulster-Scots language movement was like hearing Portlanders discuss the bizarre habits of stereotypical small-town Oregonians.
Among the more charming un-PC missteps involved in transalating offical government documents into Robert-Burns-style dialect: "disabled children" comes out as "wee dafties." Modern terms are a challenge as well. For "telephone" they came up with "langblather"!
I have a sore throat and have been losing my voice. Interestingly enough, this makes my accent much less prominent.
Take care, sweetie,
Delia
Wednesday, November 23, 2005
Letter from Northern Ireland
11-23-05
Hi Meave,
I didn't like Lithuania at all. I didn't know such a thing was possible.The people are pretty harsh and restrained in public, although they are very helpful if you ask for help, and blush slightly when you compliment their english. They do speak very well, and it’s no wonder Delta airlines and other complanies are opening customer service centers there. People might work like the dickens for $600 a month. Adds up to good business sense, eh? There just seemed to be an atmosphere of fear in the place. LT itself is like a dark fairy tale, and just feels...fearful. This may have something to do with losing a third of their population during the Nazi and Soviet occupations………
I am supposed to go back for 2 days and 3 nights before flying back to the states with Dan (on all the same flights) and I really don't want to. The original idea had been to go back to LT to follow up on whatever dental work needed to be done: to install caps on my teeth that would have been fabricated while I was in Ireland, for instance. But I don't need to go back to the dentist: everything was done with in under 90 minutes (combined) over two visits!
Belfast was a breath of fresh air. Everyone is so incredibly sweet. I saw the Dalai Lama (again) at the big cathedral here. People packed in, and waited outside in the cold for two hours after the doors were closed. Their earnestness was just incredible. The visit has huge significance for them. Belfast, meanwhile is blooming and catching up and looking really good. Everybody is optimistic and happy.
The Zen folks here are very nice. I stayed out late with two very sweet guys my age, visiting the holiday night market and talking till late over hot cocoa and tea. in a minute, I'll collect my bags at the visitor centre (they're holding them for me) and take a taxi to the bus station for a visit to Portrush and Giant's Causeway.
Lots of Love,
D.
Hi Meave,
I didn't like Lithuania at all. I didn't know such a thing was possible.The people are pretty harsh and restrained in public, although they are very helpful if you ask for help, and blush slightly when you compliment their english. They do speak very well, and it’s no wonder Delta airlines and other complanies are opening customer service centers there. People might work like the dickens for $600 a month. Adds up to good business sense, eh? There just seemed to be an atmosphere of fear in the place. LT itself is like a dark fairy tale, and just feels...fearful. This may have something to do with losing a third of their population during the Nazi and Soviet occupations………
I am supposed to go back for 2 days and 3 nights before flying back to the states with Dan (on all the same flights) and I really don't want to. The original idea had been to go back to LT to follow up on whatever dental work needed to be done: to install caps on my teeth that would have been fabricated while I was in Ireland, for instance. But I don't need to go back to the dentist: everything was done with in under 90 minutes (combined) over two visits!
Belfast was a breath of fresh air. Everyone is so incredibly sweet. I saw the Dalai Lama (again) at the big cathedral here. People packed in, and waited outside in the cold for two hours after the doors were closed. Their earnestness was just incredible. The visit has huge significance for them. Belfast, meanwhile is blooming and catching up and looking really good. Everybody is optimistic and happy.
The Zen folks here are very nice. I stayed out late with two very sweet guys my age, visiting the holiday night market and talking till late over hot cocoa and tea. in a minute, I'll collect my bags at the visitor centre (they're holding them for me) and take a taxi to the bus station for a visit to Portrush and Giant's Causeway.
Lots of Love,
D.
Monday, November 21, 2005
Dalai Lama: “The Universe in a Single Atom”, Chapter 1
The following is from the Dalai Lama's newest book:
For me, science is first and foremost an empirical discipline that provides humanity with a powerful access to understanding the nature of the physical andliving world. It is essentially a mode of inquiry that gives us fantasically detailed knowledge of the empirical world and the underlying laws of nature…. Within this model, many aspects of human exsitence, including values, creativity and spirtuality, as well as deeper metaphysical questions, lie outside the scope of scientific inquiry.
Though there are many areas of life outside the domain of science, I have noticed that many people hold an assumption that the scientific view of the world should be the basis for all knowledge and all that is knowable. This is scientific materialism. Although I am not aware of a school of thought that explicitly propounds this notion, it seems to be a common unexamined presupposition. This view upholds a belief in an objective world, independent of the contingency of its observers. It assumes that the data being analyzed within an experiment are independent of the preconceptions, perceptions, and experience of the scientist analyzing them.
Underlying this view is the assumption that, in the final analyisis, matter, as it can be described by physics and as it is governed by the lawsof physiscs, is all there is. …The view that all aspects of reality can be reduced to matter and its various particles is, to my mind, as much a metaphysical position as the view that an organizing intelligence created and controls reality.
One of the principle problems with a radical scientific materialism is the narrowness of vision that results and the potential for nihilism that might ensue. Nihilism, materialism, and reductionism are above all problems from a philosophical and above all a human perspective, since they can potentially impoverish the way we see ourselves. For example, whether we see ourselves as random biological creatures or as speical beings endowed with the dimension of consciousness and moral capacity to make an impact on how we feel about ourselves and treat others. In this view many dimentsions of the full reality of what it means to be human—art, ethics, spirituality, goodness, beauty, and above all, consciousness—either are reduced to the chemical reactions of firing neurons or are seen as a matter of purely imaginary constructs. The danger then is that human beings may be reduced to nothing more than biological machines, the products of pure chance in the random combination of genes, with no purpose other than the biological imperative of reproduction.
It is difficult to see how questions such as the meaning of life or good and evil can be accomodated within such a worldview. The problem is not with the empirical data of science but with the contention that these data alone constitute the legitimate ground for developing a comprehensive worldview or an adequate means for responding to the world’s problems. There is more to human existence and to reality itself than current science can ever give us access to.
By the same token, spirituality must be tempered by the insights and discoveries of science. If as spiritual practitioners we ignore the discoveries of science, our practice is also impoverished, as this mind-set can lead to fundamentalism. This is one of the reasons I encourage my Buddhist colleagues to undertake the study of science, so that its insights can be integrated into the Buddhist worldview.
For me, science is first and foremost an empirical discipline that provides humanity with a powerful access to understanding the nature of the physical andliving world. It is essentially a mode of inquiry that gives us fantasically detailed knowledge of the empirical world and the underlying laws of nature…. Within this model, many aspects of human exsitence, including values, creativity and spirtuality, as well as deeper metaphysical questions, lie outside the scope of scientific inquiry.
Though there are many areas of life outside the domain of science, I have noticed that many people hold an assumption that the scientific view of the world should be the basis for all knowledge and all that is knowable. This is scientific materialism. Although I am not aware of a school of thought that explicitly propounds this notion, it seems to be a common unexamined presupposition. This view upholds a belief in an objective world, independent of the contingency of its observers. It assumes that the data being analyzed within an experiment are independent of the preconceptions, perceptions, and experience of the scientist analyzing them.
Underlying this view is the assumption that, in the final analyisis, matter, as it can be described by physics and as it is governed by the lawsof physiscs, is all there is. …The view that all aspects of reality can be reduced to matter and its various particles is, to my mind, as much a metaphysical position as the view that an organizing intelligence created and controls reality.
One of the principle problems with a radical scientific materialism is the narrowness of vision that results and the potential for nihilism that might ensue. Nihilism, materialism, and reductionism are above all problems from a philosophical and above all a human perspective, since they can potentially impoverish the way we see ourselves. For example, whether we see ourselves as random biological creatures or as speical beings endowed with the dimension of consciousness and moral capacity to make an impact on how we feel about ourselves and treat others. In this view many dimentsions of the full reality of what it means to be human—art, ethics, spirituality, goodness, beauty, and above all, consciousness—either are reduced to the chemical reactions of firing neurons or are seen as a matter of purely imaginary constructs. The danger then is that human beings may be reduced to nothing more than biological machines, the products of pure chance in the random combination of genes, with no purpose other than the biological imperative of reproduction.
It is difficult to see how questions such as the meaning of life or good and evil can be accomodated within such a worldview. The problem is not with the empirical data of science but with the contention that these data alone constitute the legitimate ground for developing a comprehensive worldview or an adequate means for responding to the world’s problems. There is more to human existence and to reality itself than current science can ever give us access to.
By the same token, spirituality must be tempered by the insights and discoveries of science. If as spiritual practitioners we ignore the discoveries of science, our practice is also impoverished, as this mind-set can lead to fundamentalism. This is one of the reasons I encourage my Buddhist colleagues to undertake the study of science, so that its insights can be integrated into the Buddhist worldview.
Sunday, November 20, 2005
Mind and Life XII/Session 4: "Social Stress is Killing You"
I was a bit exhausted and didn't take the best notes during presentations by David Sheps and John Sheridan. I summarized many of the commentators' themes in the previous post regarding session III (private to Josh: not "sesshin III")
The gist was:
Social Stress-- embarrassment, anxiety, humiliation, frustration has a number of physiological effects. One is the release of glucocorticoids (immunosuppressants). Another is constriction of cardiac arteries (dramatically demonstrated in patients with a history of heart disease who were asked to do a public speaking task). For the most part stress is detrimental to health, although the picture isn't completely uniform: some forms of social stress do increase resistance to bacterial infection.
Commentator Margaret Kemeny (of UCSF) pointed out that all mammal groups establish hierarchies, and that social stress is therefore integral to their lives. Interestingly, these physiological effects aren't seen in people who are undisturbed by events that others find stressful. The perception of a "threat to the self" elicits an emotional response that is immunologically and physiologially significant. People who feel threatened by events are the ones who show these responses. If you don't fall into negative self-judgement ("I really screwed up") or negative self-consciousness (shame, humiliation), you don't bear the medical consequences (or the mental ones, of course).
The goal of practice, and healthcare, should be not to eliminate social stress, but to address the impulsive, dissipated mind that generates a disordered response to stress. Obviously Buddhism has some ideas about how to cultivate the ability to perceive the world accurately; His Holiness emphasized yet again the importance of keeping the secular and religious worlds separate. "No Self" is a Buddhist concept; relying on the universal human values is more appropriate.
(Interestingly, many in the West don't seem to think of Buddhism as a religion so much as a fun, peaceful approach to interior decorating. An exception would be certain fundamentalist Christian sects who think it's Satanic; in a bizarre way, that view actually respects the Dharma by taking it seriously.)
The means of addressing and finally purifying the afflicted mind are well-known in Buddhism. His Holiness said that the afflicted mind arises in dependence on two mechanisms:
1. Consciously relating to objects on the gross level in a way that is reactive and deluded
2. A deeper level of dysfunctional intelligence that operates from a sense of being a "Separate Self"
Paraphrasing him: Through a prolonged and gradual process which may or may not include "enlightenment" episodes, a deep understanding of No Self is arrived at. Even an advanced practitioner who has had great insights may continue to experience the world in terms of Self-and-Other, and have feelings based on that misunderstanding.
He also opined that it is really impossible to understand mental phenomena in an isolated context. Finding an absolute, independent "answer" divorced from the broader picture is impossible-- you can't find anything absolute and permanent anywhere in the Universe. Rather than focusing solely on the *location* of things in the brain, he advocated a wholistic view as being more productive. Neuroanatomy tells us about the physcial basis of a mental event--it's not an independent truth all on its own.
That night I sat with Earth Sangha, a group that whose practices include service, in the form of environmental restoration projects, and zazen. Teacher Lisa Bright was extremely helpful and lucid, and the visit was exactly what I needed.
I realized the choice that was coalescing--to abandon laboratory research as a means of finding the truth of my life-- was about much more than liking or disliking the affects of the scientists versus the meditators onstage at the conference. The scientific paradigm is inherently limited, and those limits are necessary if questions are to be asked and answered in an empirical manner. But that paradigm gives rise to a way of looking at the world that many people see as all there is. Having a choice in the matter, and not feeling intensely compelled to do science, I would rather cultivate a way of looking at the world that embraces the "metaphysical" side. (His Holiness discusses this beautifully in his new book, and rather than attempt summarize it, I'll post the passage here as soon as my internet access allows.)
The gist was:
Social Stress-- embarrassment, anxiety, humiliation, frustration has a number of physiological effects. One is the release of glucocorticoids (immunosuppressants). Another is constriction of cardiac arteries (dramatically demonstrated in patients with a history of heart disease who were asked to do a public speaking task). For the most part stress is detrimental to health, although the picture isn't completely uniform: some forms of social stress do increase resistance to bacterial infection.
Commentator Margaret Kemeny (of UCSF) pointed out that all mammal groups establish hierarchies, and that social stress is therefore integral to their lives. Interestingly, these physiological effects aren't seen in people who are undisturbed by events that others find stressful. The perception of a "threat to the self" elicits an emotional response that is immunologically and physiologially significant. People who feel threatened by events are the ones who show these responses. If you don't fall into negative self-judgement ("I really screwed up") or negative self-consciousness (shame, humiliation), you don't bear the medical consequences (or the mental ones, of course).
The goal of practice, and healthcare, should be not to eliminate social stress, but to address the impulsive, dissipated mind that generates a disordered response to stress. Obviously Buddhism has some ideas about how to cultivate the ability to perceive the world accurately; His Holiness emphasized yet again the importance of keeping the secular and religious worlds separate. "No Self" is a Buddhist concept; relying on the universal human values is more appropriate.
(Interestingly, many in the West don't seem to think of Buddhism as a religion so much as a fun, peaceful approach to interior decorating. An exception would be certain fundamentalist Christian sects who think it's Satanic; in a bizarre way, that view actually respects the Dharma by taking it seriously.)
The means of addressing and finally purifying the afflicted mind are well-known in Buddhism. His Holiness said that the afflicted mind arises in dependence on two mechanisms:
1. Consciously relating to objects on the gross level in a way that is reactive and deluded
2. A deeper level of dysfunctional intelligence that operates from a sense of being a "Separate Self"
Paraphrasing him: Through a prolonged and gradual process which may or may not include "enlightenment" episodes, a deep understanding of No Self is arrived at. Even an advanced practitioner who has had great insights may continue to experience the world in terms of Self-and-Other, and have feelings based on that misunderstanding.
He also opined that it is really impossible to understand mental phenomena in an isolated context. Finding an absolute, independent "answer" divorced from the broader picture is impossible-- you can't find anything absolute and permanent anywhere in the Universe. Rather than focusing solely on the *location* of things in the brain, he advocated a wholistic view as being more productive. Neuroanatomy tells us about the physcial basis of a mental event--it's not an independent truth all on its own.
That night I sat with Earth Sangha, a group that whose practices include service, in the form of environmental restoration projects, and zazen. Teacher Lisa Bright was extremely helpful and lucid, and the visit was exactly what I needed.
I realized the choice that was coalescing--to abandon laboratory research as a means of finding the truth of my life-- was about much more than liking or disliking the affects of the scientists versus the meditators onstage at the conference. The scientific paradigm is inherently limited, and those limits are necessary if questions are to be asked and answered in an empirical manner. But that paradigm gives rise to a way of looking at the world that many people see as all there is. Having a choice in the matter, and not feeling intensely compelled to do science, I would rather cultivate a way of looking at the world that embraces the "metaphysical" side. (His Holiness discusses this beautifully in his new book, and rather than attempt summarize it, I'll post the passage here as soon as my internet access allows.)
Shugetsu Life Path Musings
I realize that the question about which discipline to pursue goes much deeper than liking or disliking the personalities and affects of meditators versus scientists. The question is likewise not a speculative one regarding whether it’s possible to do science and be a happy and fulfilled human being? Although they’re not the norm, there are happy researchers out there, including ones whose work I admire and whose company I’d be willing to keep.
The fundamental question is “what do I want to be,” and the answer is “you become what you cultivate.” My favorite saying these days is, “if you keep on doing what you’ve been doing, you’ll keep on getting what you’ve been getting.” The scientific mode of inquiry is both extremely powerful and fundamentally limited. Having worked within it, I have some sense of the habits of mind it feeds, and I realize I’m not interested in cultivating that approach to reality. I support others in doing this work, but I also feel that I would know by now if I was deeply drawn to science. The fact of the matter is, I don’t yearn to do research, so speculating about being able to hold the philosophical dichotomy is moot.
Meanwhile, a day without practice is unthinkable. Everywhere there are beings who, just like me, want only to be happy. In every moment, another breath and another opportunity for awareness. I could bring this to a lab, but I’d much rather address psychological suffering, my own included, in a direct and applied manner. With my background, I’m able to evaluate data (there were some very suspcious error bars and y-axes as the meeting, by the way…).
The fundamental question is “what do I want to be,” and the answer is “you become what you cultivate.” My favorite saying these days is, “if you keep on doing what you’ve been doing, you’ll keep on getting what you’ve been getting.” The scientific mode of inquiry is both extremely powerful and fundamentally limited. Having worked within it, I have some sense of the habits of mind it feeds, and I realize I’m not interested in cultivating that approach to reality. I support others in doing this work, but I also feel that I would know by now if I was deeply drawn to science. The fact of the matter is, I don’t yearn to do research, so speculating about being able to hold the philosophical dichotomy is moot.
Meanwhile, a day without practice is unthinkable. Everywhere there are beings who, just like me, want only to be happy. In every moment, another breath and another opportunity for awareness. I could bring this to a lab, but I’d much rather address psychological suffering, my own included, in a direct and applied manner. With my background, I’m able to evaluate data (there were some very suspcious error bars and y-axes as the meeting, by the way…).
Saturday, November 19, 2005
Dispatch from a Lithuanian Market
15–19 November 2005:Ukmergé, Lithuania
We went to the market this morning. Unlike the many people walking along the road in the frost, we drove the mile or so to the marketplace.
Dan had parked the car in a lot that he described as being more secure than the muddy strip outside his building. The Lithuanians are extremely talented at taking apart and refurbishing cars: this was a great blessingwhen he took his car in to have the trunk refinished. It came back completely repainted, looking better than it ever had. This automotive skill also meansthat auto theft for parts is a popular pastime. One of Dan’s neighbors, a German, had parked her green Opel near the building, and came down three days later to discover that her natty little car had been taken, and a dummy matching in size and color had been left behind. He didn’t know if she used it or not.
The secure lot didn’t seem very promising—it seemed to be junkyard and parts yard, which would suggest that maybe you wouldn’t want to park there. There was no gate or camera. So I was perplexed until we were accosted by the junkyard dog, a fearless little thing that scared the spit out of me. The dog actually likes Dan, as dogs seem to do. There’s some mystical chemistry he seems to have with dogs, although it turns out that a good deal of his skill is technique. He told me that my response (bolting in fear) was all wrong (oddly enough). You should stand still and not make eye contact until the dog has had a chance to sniff you. Only then do you talk to it and see if it would like to be petted. This particular dog would like to be petted, but only by Dan.
The other part of the security system is the owner of the yard, who sauntered by. He knows who Dan is (not a thief), so there was no further technique necssary. Smiling or saying hi would be out of line, in fact.
The farmer’s market was a blast from the past: vans and trucks congregated in a icy lot, and the vendors opened the rear doors and stood around in the cold, with piles of cabbage, onions, potatoes and carrots at their feet. There were a lot of older people in rubber boots and button-flap hats and babushkas. One stall sold twig brooms (you could choose your broom head and handle separately). If you weren’t from a culture where these are utilitarian objects, they’d seem quaint, or look like witches’ brooms.
Dan bought an armload of carrots—maybe seven pounds--for $2.50, and a 10-pound sack of onions for $3. Considering what you pay in the grocery store, which seemed dirt cheap five days ago, this is a much better bargain. This is a poor country: your job, which might start at 6:30 in the morning as our neighbor’s does, might only earn you around $700 per month.
The grocery store has a few things I didn’t see at the market: cigarettes for one. You have to pass a gaunlet of smokes to get through the checkout counter. They’re arrayed at eye level to form a tunnel of tobacco. Not that the galaxy of candy, batteries, tabloids, and fashion-porn we enjoy in the States is really preferable.
Nearby was a second market, with non-farm items. A majority of the stalls were selling clothes, and I got a dandy pair of black thinsulate gloves for $4. Also on the menu: shoes, old tools, fake flowers and covered candles for gravesites, oceans of baked goods, coffee and tea, and ladies’ underwear. I don’t think most of the old ladies were interested in the thongs or multiude of brightly-colored pushup bras, but their granddaughters certainly are. You dress up if you can, and the girls are really something in their supertight jeans and fur-edged parkas. Although the styles communicate prosperity, one fact contradicts it: no young person is fat. In fact, the girls are rail-thin; it’s just how you are.
In an indoor section of the market, hundreds of people were buying fresh meat from long rows of cases. Automatically, I found myself breathing the Jizo mantra for all that butchered life. If we maintained an awareness of what meat actually is, we’d all eat a lot more carefully.
We went to the market this morning. Unlike the many people walking along the road in the frost, we drove the mile or so to the marketplace.
Dan had parked the car in a lot that he described as being more secure than the muddy strip outside his building. The Lithuanians are extremely talented at taking apart and refurbishing cars: this was a great blessingwhen he took his car in to have the trunk refinished. It came back completely repainted, looking better than it ever had. This automotive skill also meansthat auto theft for parts is a popular pastime. One of Dan’s neighbors, a German, had parked her green Opel near the building, and came down three days later to discover that her natty little car had been taken, and a dummy matching in size and color had been left behind. He didn’t know if she used it or not.
The secure lot didn’t seem very promising—it seemed to be junkyard and parts yard, which would suggest that maybe you wouldn’t want to park there. There was no gate or camera. So I was perplexed until we were accosted by the junkyard dog, a fearless little thing that scared the spit out of me. The dog actually likes Dan, as dogs seem to do. There’s some mystical chemistry he seems to have with dogs, although it turns out that a good deal of his skill is technique. He told me that my response (bolting in fear) was all wrong (oddly enough). You should stand still and not make eye contact until the dog has had a chance to sniff you. Only then do you talk to it and see if it would like to be petted. This particular dog would like to be petted, but only by Dan.
The other part of the security system is the owner of the yard, who sauntered by. He knows who Dan is (not a thief), so there was no further technique necssary. Smiling or saying hi would be out of line, in fact.
The farmer’s market was a blast from the past: vans and trucks congregated in a icy lot, and the vendors opened the rear doors and stood around in the cold, with piles of cabbage, onions, potatoes and carrots at their feet. There were a lot of older people in rubber boots and button-flap hats and babushkas. One stall sold twig brooms (you could choose your broom head and handle separately). If you weren’t from a culture where these are utilitarian objects, they’d seem quaint, or look like witches’ brooms.
Dan bought an armload of carrots—maybe seven pounds--for $2.50, and a 10-pound sack of onions for $3. Considering what you pay in the grocery store, which seemed dirt cheap five days ago, this is a much better bargain. This is a poor country: your job, which might start at 6:30 in the morning as our neighbor’s does, might only earn you around $700 per month.
The grocery store has a few things I didn’t see at the market: cigarettes for one. You have to pass a gaunlet of smokes to get through the checkout counter. They’re arrayed at eye level to form a tunnel of tobacco. Not that the galaxy of candy, batteries, tabloids, and fashion-porn we enjoy in the States is really preferable.
Nearby was a second market, with non-farm items. A majority of the stalls were selling clothes, and I got a dandy pair of black thinsulate gloves for $4. Also on the menu: shoes, old tools, fake flowers and covered candles for gravesites, oceans of baked goods, coffee and tea, and ladies’ underwear. I don’t think most of the old ladies were interested in the thongs or multiude of brightly-colored pushup bras, but their granddaughters certainly are. You dress up if you can, and the girls are really something in their supertight jeans and fur-edged parkas. Although the styles communicate prosperity, one fact contradicts it: no young person is fat. In fact, the girls are rail-thin; it’s just how you are.
In an indoor section of the market, hundreds of people were buying fresh meat from long rows of cases. Automatically, I found myself breathing the Jizo mantra for all that butchered life. If we maintained an awareness of what meat actually is, we’d all eat a lot more carefully.
Monday, November 14, 2005
Signs of Civilization a la Francais
"Entertainment" in French is pronounced "Distraction"
(And "migration" is "mutation.")_
The Charles de Gaulle airport would not be mistaken for Atlanta or Chicago. There are no broad spaces, and the layout is compact to the point of being cramped. There is a marvellous, and very relaxing, "ambient environment" of lavender-colored light, and mirrored archways reflecting into infinity.
The French are easy to "read" when you don't understand and better yet, they're really thin. Not just "not fat" but really svelte, so that there's plenty of room on the plane. Meals are hot and cold in all the right places, and the wine is flowing. I tried to save the little foil-wrapped chunk of Camembert for later, but it melted in my pocket.
(And "migration" is "mutation.")_
The Charles de Gaulle airport would not be mistaken for Atlanta or Chicago. There are no broad spaces, and the layout is compact to the point of being cramped. There is a marvellous, and very relaxing, "ambient environment" of lavender-colored light, and mirrored archways reflecting into infinity.
The French are easy to "read" when you don't understand and better yet, they're really thin. Not just "not fat" but really svelte, so that there's plenty of room on the plane. Meals are hot and cold in all the right places, and the wine is flowing. I tried to save the little foil-wrapped chunk of Camembert for later, but it melted in my pocket.
Saturday, November 12, 2005
Hindu Wedding #1
I just saw an exboyfriend get married— arguably a cause for pensiveness and psychogenic exhaustion, even in a friendly drama-free relationship, such as Rajeev and I have.
I do know I'm not jealous. No way could I imagine being up there, with hennaed hands and dangling ornaments. Reema carried it off beautifully, and was gracious and lovely even after the two-hour ceremony. Rajeev has found a good person with whom to share his life.
While the groom, bride, her family members, and the priest were performing various rites and incantations under a canopy, a refreshing informality prevailed among the guests. Chai and coffee were served midway through; it seemed quite civilized to sip tea and chat while watching the ceremony unfold.
The new couple got a chance to snack too: multiple symbolic bits of food were consumed, and puffed rice was offered to a small brazier-bound fire. In what other tradition does a celebrant show up to perform a wedding toting a plastic sack of groceries and box of fragrant firewood?
The vows themselves were lengthy and quite specific. Forty years ago in a Catholic ceremony, my mother promised to "love, honor and obey" my father. Reema promised that, and Rajeev promised more. The other guests were happy to translate for me as they chuckled at the various vows. One man told me that they were designed to protect the bride's human rights in an historically very challenging situation. Among the more thought-pledges: Rajeev is not to obstruct Reema's spiritual life by preventing her from going on pilgrimage or retreat; he promised to consult her before purchasing any big-ticket items; he must not get angry if she beat a path back to her mother's house without warning.
Rajeev looked pretty jovial during all this, and in no danger of doing a one-eighty back to bachelorhood. It was good to see him looking so satisfied.
I will always be fond of Rajeev, because we've been good friends for thirteen years, and because we were lovers for three of those years. When you're physically involved with someone, you end up bonded in ways that no one understands, and I think the exhaustion I feel has something to do with that.
The ceremony was quite powerful: deities were invoked, strings were tied around wrists, fires were circumnambulated, brows were annointed, and so forth. In the midst of this, I felt as if my past with Rajeev was a contaminant.
My sense of things, and the asymmetry of the vows, all suggest that a double standard is at work, so that the groom's "history" is not a big deal (I wouldn't post this if I thought it was). And the vows Rajeev took are promises for the future, and what happened between us is years in the past. Even so, I found myself fervently hoping that whatever ritual purification had been performed had "worked", so that Rajeev could go forward wholeheartedly and cleanly.
It is my sincere hope that they love and trust one another, and have a deeply happy life together. With that intention, I set off on the train to visit my sister in Philadelphia, and let the reception happen without me.
------------
Initially, I took this post down because it seemed sensitive; I didn’t want to embarrass Rajeev or hamper a happy start to his marriage. But does anyone in the world imagine that he hasn’t had girlfriends? Of course not. My discomfort during the ceremony came from the sense that the ceremony was sanctifying a fresh start—and ardently hoping that it would be unsullied by imprints of other women. My decision to repost anyway comes from the impression that those in a position to know are not in any way shocked that the groom has had girlfriends. (This is helped by the fact that Rajeev concealed my status from his parents.)
Whether this might be true for the bride is another matter: I see that, in this marriage and others, young women come from India to marry men who are 10-15 years their senior. If Reema’s past mirrored Rajeev’s would it be an issue, something to keep to oneself?
I do know I'm not jealous. No way could I imagine being up there, with hennaed hands and dangling ornaments. Reema carried it off beautifully, and was gracious and lovely even after the two-hour ceremony. Rajeev has found a good person with whom to share his life.
While the groom, bride, her family members, and the priest were performing various rites and incantations under a canopy, a refreshing informality prevailed among the guests. Chai and coffee were served midway through; it seemed quite civilized to sip tea and chat while watching the ceremony unfold.
The new couple got a chance to snack too: multiple symbolic bits of food were consumed, and puffed rice was offered to a small brazier-bound fire. In what other tradition does a celebrant show up to perform a wedding toting a plastic sack of groceries and box of fragrant firewood?
The vows themselves were lengthy and quite specific. Forty years ago in a Catholic ceremony, my mother promised to "love, honor and obey" my father. Reema promised that, and Rajeev promised more. The other guests were happy to translate for me as they chuckled at the various vows. One man told me that they were designed to protect the bride's human rights in an historically very challenging situation. Among the more thought-pledges: Rajeev is not to obstruct Reema's spiritual life by preventing her from going on pilgrimage or retreat; he promised to consult her before purchasing any big-ticket items; he must not get angry if she beat a path back to her mother's house without warning.
Rajeev looked pretty jovial during all this, and in no danger of doing a one-eighty back to bachelorhood. It was good to see him looking so satisfied.
I will always be fond of Rajeev, because we've been good friends for thirteen years, and because we were lovers for three of those years. When you're physically involved with someone, you end up bonded in ways that no one understands, and I think the exhaustion I feel has something to do with that.
The ceremony was quite powerful: deities were invoked, strings were tied around wrists, fires were circumnambulated, brows were annointed, and so forth. In the midst of this, I felt as if my past with Rajeev was a contaminant.
My sense of things, and the asymmetry of the vows, all suggest that a double standard is at work, so that the groom's "history" is not a big deal (I wouldn't post this if I thought it was). And the vows Rajeev took are promises for the future, and what happened between us is years in the past. Even so, I found myself fervently hoping that whatever ritual purification had been performed had "worked", so that Rajeev could go forward wholeheartedly and cleanly.
It is my sincere hope that they love and trust one another, and have a deeply happy life together. With that intention, I set off on the train to visit my sister in Philadelphia, and let the reception happen without me.
------------
Initially, I took this post down because it seemed sensitive; I didn’t want to embarrass Rajeev or hamper a happy start to his marriage. But does anyone in the world imagine that he hasn’t had girlfriends? Of course not. My discomfort during the ceremony came from the sense that the ceremony was sanctifying a fresh start—and ardently hoping that it would be unsullied by imprints of other women. My decision to repost anyway comes from the impression that those in a position to know are not in any way shocked that the groom has had girlfriends. (This is helped by the fact that Rajeev concealed my status from his parents.)
Whether this might be true for the bride is another matter: I see that, in this marriage and others, young women come from India to marry men who are 10-15 years their senior. If Reema’s past mirrored Rajeev’s would it be an issue, something to keep to oneself?
Friday, November 11, 2005
Mind & Life XIII--Day 2 Interlude by Alan Wallace
That afternoon, His Holiness met with President Bush and Condoleezza Rice. Although we didn’t learn anything about the visit, we were entertained in the meantime by Allan Wallace, who gave a beautiful lecturette on the development of Buddhist and scientific thought systems.
He noted that Western scientist attempted to study the mind through introspection for about thirty years, at which point they realized “they sucked” at it. People (especially untrained people) simply aren’t able to provide data about their internal states; behavioral and cognitive approaches rose to prominence instead.
Meanwhile, over centuries of advanced introspection and dissection of the elements of consciousness, Buddhism never developed a theory of the brain as the seat or the source of anything. The senses were thought to reside in the sense organs themselves, and the heart was the seat of the apparent “soul.” In other words, said Wallace, Buddhists are accepting neuroscience on faith. That got a good laugh.
He defined the metaphysical as “that which science hasn’t been able to study yet,” At one time, atomic theory was metaphysical; there was no way to study such minute phenomena. The Buddhist science of mind brings 2500 years of study to a “metaphysical” discipline.
By the same token, Wallace noted, a “theory” is a cognitive framework, a way of viewing the truth that both supports and stems from one’s own views. Theories are certinaly useful, but to ignore the limtations of a knowledge system is both shortsighted and occasionally dangerous.
Mr. Wallace also explored the notions of “eudaimonic well-being” as a target state distinct from gratification. He quoted His Holiness as saying, “The very motion of our life is towards happiness.” Eudaimonic well-being was defined as “the integrated pursuit of inner happiness, truth and virtue.” It’s not contingent upon material things or pleasant stimuli.
The ancient Buddhist university of Nalanda embodied the interdisciplinary cultivation of eudaimonic well-being. Broadly, the realms of poetry, rhetoric, logic, philosophy, music, &c. studied there are, in fact, “dharma”, the disciplines that foster eudamonia.
In the conversation that followed, the ideal of openhearted engagement with one’s life was echoed by Ajahn Amaro, who oted the four requirements for success (which apply to anything):
-Interest
-Energy
-Contemplation
-Feedback (evaluation/indication of success from outside)
He noted that Western scientist attempted to study the mind through introspection for about thirty years, at which point they realized “they sucked” at it. People (especially untrained people) simply aren’t able to provide data about their internal states; behavioral and cognitive approaches rose to prominence instead.
Meanwhile, over centuries of advanced introspection and dissection of the elements of consciousness, Buddhism never developed a theory of the brain as the seat or the source of anything. The senses were thought to reside in the sense organs themselves, and the heart was the seat of the apparent “soul.” In other words, said Wallace, Buddhists are accepting neuroscience on faith. That got a good laugh.
He defined the metaphysical as “that which science hasn’t been able to study yet,” At one time, atomic theory was metaphysical; there was no way to study such minute phenomena. The Buddhist science of mind brings 2500 years of study to a “metaphysical” discipline.
By the same token, Wallace noted, a “theory” is a cognitive framework, a way of viewing the truth that both supports and stems from one’s own views. Theories are certinaly useful, but to ignore the limtations of a knowledge system is both shortsighted and occasionally dangerous.
Mr. Wallace also explored the notions of “eudaimonic well-being” as a target state distinct from gratification. He quoted His Holiness as saying, “The very motion of our life is towards happiness.” Eudaimonic well-being was defined as “the integrated pursuit of inner happiness, truth and virtue.” It’s not contingent upon material things or pleasant stimuli.
The ancient Buddhist university of Nalanda embodied the interdisciplinary cultivation of eudaimonic well-being. Broadly, the realms of poetry, rhetoric, logic, philosophy, music, &c. studied there are, in fact, “dharma”, the disciplines that foster eudamonia.
In the conversation that followed, the ideal of openhearted engagement with one’s life was echoed by Ajahn Amaro, who oted the four requirements for success (which apply to anything):
-Interest
-Energy
-Contemplation
-Feedback (evaluation/indication of success from outside)
Mind & Life XIII--Day 2/Sessin 3 Depression and "No Self"
As I continue to digest the Mind & Life conference, I realize the discussions about depression provided some of the most striking actual content. (I learned a great deal at the conference, but most of it was subtle, implicit information.)
When asked to comment, Chozen Roshi stated that “skeptical doubt”—a Buddhist term for corrosive negativity and pessimism -- fuels depression and destroys spiritual practice. People who are stuck in depression are buried by the First Noble Truth, and intervention of some sort may be required to move them out of it. But the fact of the deep suffering of the world, is incontrovertible. And the human critical capacity has its uses: depressed people, she said, do better in games of chance. The Buddha himself, in the time leading up to his enlightenment, endured visits from Mara as Inner Critic, who chided him both for being lazy in practice and for driving himself too hard. Feeding a hypercritical sensibility gives rise to a neuroticized realism that drives us to despair.
His Holiness the Dalai Lama pointed out that although the benefits of meditation practice have been common knowledge (in some circles!) for thousands of years, in secularizing aspects of meditation into a psychological therapy there is a risk of veering toward the religious aspects of Buddhism. The doctrine of “no self” is, after all, a doctrine, and one that is unique to Buddhism. Funny, but when I think of religion being forced on people, I imagine being pressured to believe in a deity. In Buddhism, philosophies can be deities, too—helpful to a point, but subject to experiential verification and rejection. Later, HH pointed out, quite distinctly, that a theistic approach may really be best for some people. Shaken again, I realized a latent absolutist impulse lies within: I assume that doctrines are not only the absolute truth, but should be presented as such, even if others may not be able to relate.
Later on, His Holiness said that “no self” is emphasized as a doctrine because it is an antidote to a very serious malady: the multifarious modes of suffering wrought by an undisciplined mind are rooted in the grasping of a false self. (There are two aspects of self-grasping: one is evaluating self and others in a relative framework, deciding that I am better or worse than others. The other mistake is in imputing a self onto things in the first place, seeing them as concrete entities.) The mechanisms by which afflictions are generated by a restless undisciplined mind are complex, but they involve a dysfunctional intelligence rooted in a sense of self, as well as a predisposition to function in the gross, “physical” realm of reality.
He went on to say that coming to an understanding of “no self” involves a prolonged and gradual process, which may or may not ( emphasis on “may not”) include episodes of profound insight – presumably meaning “openings” or kensho. Even a person of great understanding will continue to experience self-and-other and to have experiences based on that misconception.
It was wonderful to hear all this. Even simple points of dharma had a particular punch when delivered by His Holiness. Hearing him say--carefully, and with complete confidence-- “There is no fixed, permanent ‘I’,” made my blood quiver.
When asked to comment, Chozen Roshi stated that “skeptical doubt”—a Buddhist term for corrosive negativity and pessimism -- fuels depression and destroys spiritual practice. People who are stuck in depression are buried by the First Noble Truth, and intervention of some sort may be required to move them out of it. But the fact of the deep suffering of the world, is incontrovertible. And the human critical capacity has its uses: depressed people, she said, do better in games of chance. The Buddha himself, in the time leading up to his enlightenment, endured visits from Mara as Inner Critic, who chided him both for being lazy in practice and for driving himself too hard. Feeding a hypercritical sensibility gives rise to a neuroticized realism that drives us to despair.
His Holiness the Dalai Lama pointed out that although the benefits of meditation practice have been common knowledge (in some circles!) for thousands of years, in secularizing aspects of meditation into a psychological therapy there is a risk of veering toward the religious aspects of Buddhism. The doctrine of “no self” is, after all, a doctrine, and one that is unique to Buddhism. Funny, but when I think of religion being forced on people, I imagine being pressured to believe in a deity. In Buddhism, philosophies can be deities, too—helpful to a point, but subject to experiential verification and rejection. Later, HH pointed out, quite distinctly, that a theistic approach may really be best for some people. Shaken again, I realized a latent absolutist impulse lies within: I assume that doctrines are not only the absolute truth, but should be presented as such, even if others may not be able to relate.
Later on, His Holiness said that “no self” is emphasized as a doctrine because it is an antidote to a very serious malady: the multifarious modes of suffering wrought by an undisciplined mind are rooted in the grasping of a false self. (There are two aspects of self-grasping: one is evaluating self and others in a relative framework, deciding that I am better or worse than others. The other mistake is in imputing a self onto things in the first place, seeing them as concrete entities.) The mechanisms by which afflictions are generated by a restless undisciplined mind are complex, but they involve a dysfunctional intelligence rooted in a sense of self, as well as a predisposition to function in the gross, “physical” realm of reality.
He went on to say that coming to an understanding of “no self” involves a prolonged and gradual process, which may or may not ( emphasis on “may not”) include episodes of profound insight – presumably meaning “openings” or kensho. Even a person of great understanding will continue to experience self-and-other and to have experiences based on that misconception.
It was wonderful to hear all this. Even simple points of dharma had a particular punch when delivered by His Holiness. Hearing him say--carefully, and with complete confidence-- “There is no fixed, permanent ‘I’,” made my blood quiver.
Thursday, November 10, 2005
1956 West Point Visit
One of the delights of visiting Washington DC has been the opportunity to connect with my cousin Margaret Garigan. She showed me this photo from my Uncle Tom's days at West Point. Both my paternal grandparents died before I was born, and I don't have much of a sense of who they were. Perhaps for that reason, I find this an incredibly sweet picture. My dad is the young man on the right. Next to him, my darling Aunt Pat holds a tiny Cousin Mike.
Margaret's brother (also Tom Garigan) had this and other photos as slides, hence the very nice color quality. Click on the photo to see it and others on my Flickr site.
Margaret's brother (also Tom Garigan) had this and other photos as slides, hence the very nice color quality. Click on the photo to see it and others on my Flickr site.
Dental Tourism to Lithuania
Apparently I'm not the first person to flee to Lithuania for some serious dentistry. I'm looking forward to being able to eat nuts again. And to the sweet feel of gold in my mouth rather than ...holes.
http://www.gidenta.lt/en/apiemus.xhtml
and
http://www.denticija.lt/index.php?-880876803
Other news gleaned from online sources:
"Lithuanians were staunchly pagan until the 1300s, when they still worshiped the likes of Perkunas, god of thunder. They've been staunch Catholics for going on six centuries, but many still speak with a tinge of regret about the loss of their heathen rituals."
"In medieval times, Lithuania was a major European power. By sheer military might and diplomatic skill, Lithuania by 1400 was an empire stretching to the Black Sea; it included large tracts of present-day Ukraine, Belarus and Russia. This grand history leads some Lithuanian leaders to act peculiarly as if they still represent a great power."
and
Other news gleaned from online sources:
"Lithuanians were staunchly pagan until the 1300s, when they still worshiped the likes of Perkunas, god of thunder. They've been staunch Catholics for going on six centuries, but many still speak with a tinge of regret about the loss of their heathen rituals."
"In medieval times, Lithuania was a major European power. By sheer military might and diplomatic skill, Lithuania by 1400 was an empire stretching to the Black Sea; it included large tracts of present-day Ukraine, Belarus and Russia. This grand history leads some Lithuanian leaders to act peculiarly as if they still represent a great power."
Mind & Life XIII--Day 2/Session 3: How to Get Undepressed
This day went more smoothly: the sound system had been fixed, His Holiness’ health had improved, and the panelists had a certain rapport with one another.
Zindel Segal reported that people who have been depressed before are very likely to become depressed again. Individuals who have experienced depression seem to take “normal” sadness as a cue to engage in depressive thinking, and the more readily they have these thought this predicts how readily they will have a relapse.
“Depressive thinking” arises automatically, without consideration, and has an avoidant aspect: you’re trying to suppress things or keep them at a distance. It’s very self-centered and repetitive; it doesn’t solve any problems, and it traces the same thoughts over and over. Classic ruminations of this sort would be along the lines of “happiness=success and wealth”; “making (or admitting to) a mistake is a sign of weakness”; or my favorite, “If others respected me I’d feel fulfilled.” What’s more, you’re sure you’re a terrible person for feeling depressed.
People who have been depressed before are likely to perceive these thoughts as containing some emotional wisdom, and ruminating on them to be a problem-solving activity. Not surprisingly, when you’re thinking this way, your problem-solving skills are actually quite diminished!
Mindfulness-Based Cognitive Therapy (MBCT) is designed to prevent a relapse in people who have been depressed, by retraining some of these habits of mind. Instruction effectively counteracts the tendencies of depressive thinking. What if you didn’t see your thoughts as anything but passing weather? Could moods be curious mental events that will pass, that don’t necessarily reflect the truth, and are amenable to modification?
This is essentially the skill set that I’ve learned from residential Zen practice. I wouldn’t trade the experience for anything: I deeply appreciate the emptiness of my thoughts, opinions, and moods. But I’m also really happy that a stripped-down cognitive system is available to folks who aren’t able (or foolish enough) to sign up for the monastic treatment.
It’s also reassuring to me to see that MBCT training involves looking at elements of ones’ life, and encouraging habits that counteract depression. The little gems of mental hygiene I’ve discovered as a result of looking minutely at my thoughts and feelings are all incorporated in MBCT! Just grounding the awareness in the body has saved me from many a precipice. Giving internal voices a chance to weigh in and be heard is a key part of good mental hygiene, in my view. At some point I found that engaging in creative activity--doing something pleasant that I’m good at--greatly reduced the incidence of (apparently) spontaneous angry thoughts.
These all pay off tremendously and should be a part of everyone’s life—and they all turn up in MBCT because they work for people in general, not just me. Actually, studies show that this therapy works best for people who have had recurrent depression. That would be me! I’m so happy that this is available to people. The hardest thing about depression is that complete lack of hope. You really think you’re the most miserable piece or crap, totally alone in the world. Ironically, depression is so devastating because the depressed person is actually far from alone--they’re part of an epidemic. Turns out, depression is projected by the WHO to rank second (behind heart disease) as the health issue that is most costly.
Helen Mayberg, a colleague and collaborator of Dr. Segal's next presented some really breathtaking research. Using PET scans, researchers have been able to identify regions of the brain that experience either increased or decreased activity during depression. One sort of depression mimics “normal” sadness: the prefrontal cortex shuts down, and the hypothalamus, insula and cingulate all light up. In very rough terms, this translates as: you become mentally numb, and emotional centers deep in the brain light up.
This is a neurological correlate of the behavioral observation that depressive types tend to linger over and concretize their sadness, setting the stage for relapse. Dr. Mayberg noted that illness can be conceived of as the inability of a system to rebalance or right itself following a disruption. In depression, a normal disruption of feeling sad (rejected, lost, grief-stricken, disappointed) persists—because of choices we make--, and the system falls more solidly out of balance, until you have a persistent biological reality that you can’t shake.
For those individuals whose depression is so debilitating and persistent that it can’t be cured by therapy, medication, or even shock therapy, Dr Mayberg and colleagues have found a cure. It’s striking in its audacity as well as the often instantaneous relief it affords from what is often years of torment.
While the patient is awake, an electrode is inserted into the cingulate 25 nucleus, and when it reaches its target, the results are astounding. It’s as if the veil is lifted. In a sudden reversal of some of the most dogging symptoms of depression, patients will suddenly become talkative and inquisitive about the operating room, or spontaneously begin expressing fondness and gratitude for the medical staff gathered around them. Afterwards, with the stimulator permanently implanted, patients’ problems aren’t’ magically solved, but they report feeling like themselves again, and have a sense that they can finally begin to work on their life issues.
(Interesting that you can have a sense of “this is how I really am”, in spite of being enshrouded in a deluded mental state for years or lifetimes beforehand. How we know when something true came up later.)
At this point, some discussion ensued about whether it might be possible to tailor mindfulness-based treatment for depression to a patient’s particular type of depression, and whether the treatment would adopt a mechanical, skill-centered approach, or instead address really modifying how people conceive of the self and the unpleasantries it encounters as an inevitable part of life.
Chozen Bays noted that hell is equivalent to hopelessness, and that meditation (or cingulate stimulation) can provide some relief from depression so that people can truly practice. We all want a magic pill, but treatment of any sort is only a prelude to the work one must do for oneself. She opined that we nourish the brain with what we take in, and that a diet of violence is not appropriate. We simply aren’t wired to live with a world’s worth of suffering bombarding us through the news media. In light of the challenges of this age, she said, “we need the extraordinary help the dharma provides.” How true.
And with that, Chozen was on her way to becoming one of the very popular people of this conference. Fortunately I got a chance to visit with her and say hi before other people discovered what I am privileged to know-- namely, what a lucid and heartfelt person she is.
There’s more to say, but I’ll leave it there for now.
Zindel Segal reported that people who have been depressed before are very likely to become depressed again. Individuals who have experienced depression seem to take “normal” sadness as a cue to engage in depressive thinking, and the more readily they have these thought this predicts how readily they will have a relapse.
“Depressive thinking” arises automatically, without consideration, and has an avoidant aspect: you’re trying to suppress things or keep them at a distance. It’s very self-centered and repetitive; it doesn’t solve any problems, and it traces the same thoughts over and over. Classic ruminations of this sort would be along the lines of “happiness=success and wealth”; “making (or admitting to) a mistake is a sign of weakness”; or my favorite, “If others respected me I’d feel fulfilled.” What’s more, you’re sure you’re a terrible person for feeling depressed.
People who have been depressed before are likely to perceive these thoughts as containing some emotional wisdom, and ruminating on them to be a problem-solving activity. Not surprisingly, when you’re thinking this way, your problem-solving skills are actually quite diminished!
Mindfulness-Based Cognitive Therapy (MBCT) is designed to prevent a relapse in people who have been depressed, by retraining some of these habits of mind. Instruction effectively counteracts the tendencies of depressive thinking. What if you didn’t see your thoughts as anything but passing weather? Could moods be curious mental events that will pass, that don’t necessarily reflect the truth, and are amenable to modification?
This is essentially the skill set that I’ve learned from residential Zen practice. I wouldn’t trade the experience for anything: I deeply appreciate the emptiness of my thoughts, opinions, and moods. But I’m also really happy that a stripped-down cognitive system is available to folks who aren’t able (or foolish enough) to sign up for the monastic treatment.
It’s also reassuring to me to see that MBCT training involves looking at elements of ones’ life, and encouraging habits that counteract depression. The little gems of mental hygiene I’ve discovered as a result of looking minutely at my thoughts and feelings are all incorporated in MBCT! Just grounding the awareness in the body has saved me from many a precipice. Giving internal voices a chance to weigh in and be heard is a key part of good mental hygiene, in my view. At some point I found that engaging in creative activity--doing something pleasant that I’m good at--greatly reduced the incidence of (apparently) spontaneous angry thoughts.
These all pay off tremendously and should be a part of everyone’s life—and they all turn up in MBCT because they work for people in general, not just me. Actually, studies show that this therapy works best for people who have had recurrent depression. That would be me! I’m so happy that this is available to people. The hardest thing about depression is that complete lack of hope. You really think you’re the most miserable piece or crap, totally alone in the world. Ironically, depression is so devastating because the depressed person is actually far from alone--they’re part of an epidemic. Turns out, depression is projected by the WHO to rank second (behind heart disease) as the health issue that is most costly.
Helen Mayberg, a colleague and collaborator of Dr. Segal's next presented some really breathtaking research. Using PET scans, researchers have been able to identify regions of the brain that experience either increased or decreased activity during depression. One sort of depression mimics “normal” sadness: the prefrontal cortex shuts down, and the hypothalamus, insula and cingulate all light up. In very rough terms, this translates as: you become mentally numb, and emotional centers deep in the brain light up.
This is a neurological correlate of the behavioral observation that depressive types tend to linger over and concretize their sadness, setting the stage for relapse. Dr. Mayberg noted that illness can be conceived of as the inability of a system to rebalance or right itself following a disruption. In depression, a normal disruption of feeling sad (rejected, lost, grief-stricken, disappointed) persists—because of choices we make--, and the system falls more solidly out of balance, until you have a persistent biological reality that you can’t shake.
For those individuals whose depression is so debilitating and persistent that it can’t be cured by therapy, medication, or even shock therapy, Dr Mayberg and colleagues have found a cure. It’s striking in its audacity as well as the often instantaneous relief it affords from what is often years of torment.
While the patient is awake, an electrode is inserted into the cingulate 25 nucleus, and when it reaches its target, the results are astounding. It’s as if the veil is lifted. In a sudden reversal of some of the most dogging symptoms of depression, patients will suddenly become talkative and inquisitive about the operating room, or spontaneously begin expressing fondness and gratitude for the medical staff gathered around them. Afterwards, with the stimulator permanently implanted, patients’ problems aren’t’ magically solved, but they report feeling like themselves again, and have a sense that they can finally begin to work on their life issues.
(Interesting that you can have a sense of “this is how I really am”, in spite of being enshrouded in a deluded mental state for years or lifetimes beforehand. How we know when something true came up later.)
At this point, some discussion ensued about whether it might be possible to tailor mindfulness-based treatment for depression to a patient’s particular type of depression, and whether the treatment would adopt a mechanical, skill-centered approach, or instead address really modifying how people conceive of the self and the unpleasantries it encounters as an inevitable part of life.
Chozen Bays noted that hell is equivalent to hopelessness, and that meditation (or cingulate stimulation) can provide some relief from depression so that people can truly practice. We all want a magic pill, but treatment of any sort is only a prelude to the work one must do for oneself. She opined that we nourish the brain with what we take in, and that a diet of violence is not appropriate. We simply aren’t wired to live with a world’s worth of suffering bombarding us through the news media. In light of the challenges of this age, she said, “we need the extraordinary help the dharma provides.” How true.
And with that, Chozen was on her way to becoming one of the very popular people of this conference. Fortunately I got a chance to visit with her and say hi before other people discovered what I am privileged to know-- namely, what a lucid and heartfelt person she is.
There’s more to say, but I’ll leave it there for now.
Wednesday, November 09, 2005
Easy "Thai" Curry Recipe
From Beni, long ago; for Leo, today.
Mince a few garlic cloves and a chunk of ginger.
Saute in oil. You can add black pepper and other spices (like basil or turmeric) now.
Add diced onions and saute until softer
Add 2 T curry paste
Add 1 qt water, and buillion cube
Chop up and add veggies in an appropriate order. If necessary, microwave a "tough" veggie (like carrots) for five minutes to soften them.
I usually add cubed tofu near the end.
Turn off heat. Add miso, if using (whisk in a small bowl first). Add 1 can of coconut milk. Add lime juice to taste.
Mince a few garlic cloves and a chunk of ginger.
Saute in oil. You can add black pepper and other spices (like basil or turmeric) now.
Add diced onions and saute until softer
Add 2 T curry paste
Add 1 qt water, and buillion cube
Chop up and add veggies in an appropriate order. If necessary, microwave a "tough" veggie (like carrots) for five minutes to soften them.
I usually add cubed tofu near the end.
Turn off heat. Add miso, if using (whisk in a small bowl first). Add 1 can of coconut milk. Add lime juice to taste.
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
Impressions on Mind and Life XIII: A Cursory Look Around the Science of Mind
My biggest impression from this first day of the Mind & Life conference is that sometimes it’s better to buy the album than shell out for the concert.
DAR Constitution Hall is not the Dalai Lama’s living room, and the presentations that occurred there today were not conversations among equals as much as Neurobiology Lite, packaged and dumbed-down for your inspiration. I had hoped that the ticket price bought the opportunity to eavesdrop on a sparkling discussion of current research and an exchange of insights into how Buddhist understanding informs modern health and neurobiology. Alas. Those who shared my conceit are trudging home sadder but poorer tonight.
Very little new material was presented, and those who prepared—as I did—by reading the book-versions of previous conferences, found much of the material to be repetitive, shallow, or both. What was new and interesting were His Holiness’ contributions, which were infrequent and hard to understand, and would have been more easily digested by reading this year’s book than by actually sitting through the proceedings.
To be honest, His Holiness has a cold, and the sound of him blowing his nose reverberated throughout the hall in a most bizarre manner. It’s a testament to his skill, and the rather poor sound quality, that his expositions in Tibetan were more satisfying than the translations. But the poor man looked like he needed a rest. He’ll meet with the president tomorrow, followed by Condoleezza Rice. Seems to me he'll need some strength to face the architects of one of the greatest sources of suffering in the present age. (NB: that the war in Iraq is a source of suffering is an objective observation rather than a political statement. Whether or not you think it’s worth the suffering is where politics comes in.)
Of great importance to me as I contemplate whether another round in the academic realm is right for me: the contrast between meditators and scientists was striking, and it didn’t flatter the scientists. Onstage, the various Buddhist practitioners, all of them people of long practice, spoke and moved in an unfettered way that seemed completely natural and balanced. It would have seemed unremarkable had they not been paired with stiff, posturing, pontificating scientists.
For me, taking a path apart from practice was never an option, but now I’m seriously doubting that I’d want to work in a lab every day. Perhaps some well-adjusted researchers will turn up tomorrow. And perhaps I’ll find my grail: a researcher for whom practice is the foundation of life, rather than a utilitarian add-on that lets them tolerate more stress. Sadly, just being a scientist-meditator is apparently not sufficient to make one a sane person: one such individual, who I've long worshipped from afar, seemed like a combative jerk; I’d like to give him the benefit of the doubt—perhaps he was infuriated by the sound system too–but he seemed quite arrogant. Pretty disappointing.
There was plenty of content of merit. Some of it was familiar, but very nicely-stated. Ajahn Amaro and Mathieu Ricard both expounded the teachings with a lovely freshness and openhearted ease.
Points of note:
Ways in which the Buddhist view of mind has been modified by science:
1. Brain, not heart, as the seat of consciousness
2. Basis of sensory experience is in the brain and does not reside in the sense organs themselves
Mathieu Ricard:
True mental health may be more than the absence of mental illness/Our normal state of mind is an epidemic
Meditation is not a hobby involving going limp: just as in science, there is a therapeutic goal of addressing needs common to all humanity.
Ajahn Amaro:
Dukkha= the capacity of the mind to lose balance and become emotionally distresses.
Four noble truths are presented in the form of a classical Indian medical diagnosis:
1. symptom
2. cause
3. prognosis
4. method of treatment—a threefold prescription of ethical behavior, mental cultivation, and insightful understanding
The Buddha said that any path that contains these three elements will surely lead one to peace and liberation, but if a discipline lacks one of these elements, it cannot do so.
Ajahn Amaro & Fr. Keating: (Father Thomas Keating was a big hit. Articulate, heartfelt, and very wise, he earned several rounds of applause. The plan for the future is to have more representatives of contemplative traditions in attendance.)
Two kinds of suffering
1. unavoidable, endemic physical and emotional pain, “the central suffering of a limited universe” which you can’t do anything about.
2. Adventitious suffering: what the mind adds on; fretting, anxiety, etc.; eradicable and treatable
It is possible to be at peace whilst being subjected to great physical and emotional pain.
Although basic suffering is innate, so to is the capacity to focus attention, and to investigate the nature of experience, including our responses to suffering. These must be cultivated.
Uncontrived state of mind= pure awareness
Robert Sapolsky:
Dopamine is released not upon reward, but when anticipating a reward. Anticipation itself is what’s pleasurable: that wondering if you’ll get what you want.
In the short term, stress heightens attention, improves memory (improved hippocampus-dependent memory), raises your energy level (elevated blood oxygen and glucose), and feels good (dopamine). Chronically, these are all exhausted, and the opposite is true. Plus amygdala (fear response area) function is increased; it becomes larger and sprouts more connections—you are literally trapped by fear.
Some types of stress are pleasurable (roller coaster; scary movie) while others cause extreme health problems. Lack of control in a hostile environment=profoundly stressful. Chronic activation of (healthy, adaptive) stress responses leads to stress-related medical disorders.
Key distinctions between fun stress and killer stress are: predictability; perception of control; hope for the future; friends; and availability of someone to bite (if a rat).
Some people are not traumatized by extreme stress, and whether stress is manageable or traumatic seems to depend on one's perception of her environment. Is it benign, or threatening?
Creating a benign environment. Alan Wallace quotes the Buddha, “The Sangha is the whole of practice.” And indeed, living in a community can be a tremendous source of support, as well as a boundless field of challenge and opportunity to watch the self arise and have opinions.
50% of mammalian violence is caused by proximal stress, often “passed-on” abuse from another individual: you beat me up, then I go kick the dog. As humans, we have a biological predisposition to spread violence, and the moral imperative to train our minds not to.
No correlation between intellectual intelligence and moral compass. Level of intelligence does not predict a person's altruism. Those who perform incredibly heroic acts were often taught from childhood about right and wrong. They do not report reasoning about their selflessness, rather “The next thing I knew I had dived into the river.”
People are notoriously bad at predicting what will make them happy. Marriage doesn’t do it for long; widowhood doesn’t destroy it for long; and being wealthy doesn’t do it either.
A recurring theme was that experienced meditators have increased activity in the prefrontal cortex, the area that controls decision-making and emotional expression. This may explain moderated responses to unsettling stimuli, as well as greater emotional equanimity in daily life.
DAR Constitution Hall is not the Dalai Lama’s living room, and the presentations that occurred there today were not conversations among equals as much as Neurobiology Lite, packaged and dumbed-down for your inspiration. I had hoped that the ticket price bought the opportunity to eavesdrop on a sparkling discussion of current research and an exchange of insights into how Buddhist understanding informs modern health and neurobiology. Alas. Those who shared my conceit are trudging home sadder but poorer tonight.
Very little new material was presented, and those who prepared—as I did—by reading the book-versions of previous conferences, found much of the material to be repetitive, shallow, or both. What was new and interesting were His Holiness’ contributions, which were infrequent and hard to understand, and would have been more easily digested by reading this year’s book than by actually sitting through the proceedings.
To be honest, His Holiness has a cold, and the sound of him blowing his nose reverberated throughout the hall in a most bizarre manner. It’s a testament to his skill, and the rather poor sound quality, that his expositions in Tibetan were more satisfying than the translations. But the poor man looked like he needed a rest. He’ll meet with the president tomorrow, followed by Condoleezza Rice. Seems to me he'll need some strength to face the architects of one of the greatest sources of suffering in the present age. (NB: that the war in Iraq is a source of suffering is an objective observation rather than a political statement. Whether or not you think it’s worth the suffering is where politics comes in.)
Of great importance to me as I contemplate whether another round in the academic realm is right for me: the contrast between meditators and scientists was striking, and it didn’t flatter the scientists. Onstage, the various Buddhist practitioners, all of them people of long practice, spoke and moved in an unfettered way that seemed completely natural and balanced. It would have seemed unremarkable had they not been paired with stiff, posturing, pontificating scientists.
For me, taking a path apart from practice was never an option, but now I’m seriously doubting that I’d want to work in a lab every day. Perhaps some well-adjusted researchers will turn up tomorrow. And perhaps I’ll find my grail: a researcher for whom practice is the foundation of life, rather than a utilitarian add-on that lets them tolerate more stress. Sadly, just being a scientist-meditator is apparently not sufficient to make one a sane person: one such individual, who I've long worshipped from afar, seemed like a combative jerk; I’d like to give him the benefit of the doubt—perhaps he was infuriated by the sound system too–but he seemed quite arrogant. Pretty disappointing.
There was plenty of content of merit. Some of it was familiar, but very nicely-stated. Ajahn Amaro and Mathieu Ricard both expounded the teachings with a lovely freshness and openhearted ease.
Points of note:
Ways in which the Buddhist view of mind has been modified by science:
1. Brain, not heart, as the seat of consciousness
2. Basis of sensory experience is in the brain and does not reside in the sense organs themselves
Mathieu Ricard:
True mental health may be more than the absence of mental illness/Our normal state of mind is an epidemic
Meditation is not a hobby involving going limp: just as in science, there is a therapeutic goal of addressing needs common to all humanity.
Ajahn Amaro:
Dukkha= the capacity of the mind to lose balance and become emotionally distresses.
Four noble truths are presented in the form of a classical Indian medical diagnosis:
1. symptom
2. cause
3. prognosis
4. method of treatment—a threefold prescription of ethical behavior, mental cultivation, and insightful understanding
The Buddha said that any path that contains these three elements will surely lead one to peace and liberation, but if a discipline lacks one of these elements, it cannot do so.
Ajahn Amaro & Fr. Keating: (Father Thomas Keating was a big hit. Articulate, heartfelt, and very wise, he earned several rounds of applause. The plan for the future is to have more representatives of contemplative traditions in attendance.)
Two kinds of suffering
1. unavoidable, endemic physical and emotional pain, “the central suffering of a limited universe” which you can’t do anything about.
2. Adventitious suffering: what the mind adds on; fretting, anxiety, etc.; eradicable and treatable
It is possible to be at peace whilst being subjected to great physical and emotional pain.
Although basic suffering is innate, so to is the capacity to focus attention, and to investigate the nature of experience, including our responses to suffering. These must be cultivated.
Uncontrived state of mind= pure awareness
Robert Sapolsky:
Dopamine is released not upon reward, but when anticipating a reward. Anticipation itself is what’s pleasurable: that wondering if you’ll get what you want.
In the short term, stress heightens attention, improves memory (improved hippocampus-dependent memory), raises your energy level (elevated blood oxygen and glucose), and feels good (dopamine). Chronically, these are all exhausted, and the opposite is true. Plus amygdala (fear response area) function is increased; it becomes larger and sprouts more connections—you are literally trapped by fear.
Some types of stress are pleasurable (roller coaster; scary movie) while others cause extreme health problems. Lack of control in a hostile environment=profoundly stressful. Chronic activation of (healthy, adaptive) stress responses leads to stress-related medical disorders.
Key distinctions between fun stress and killer stress are: predictability; perception of control; hope for the future; friends; and availability of someone to bite (if a rat).
Some people are not traumatized by extreme stress, and whether stress is manageable or traumatic seems to depend on one's perception of her environment. Is it benign, or threatening?
Creating a benign environment. Alan Wallace quotes the Buddha, “The Sangha is the whole of practice.” And indeed, living in a community can be a tremendous source of support, as well as a boundless field of challenge and opportunity to watch the self arise and have opinions.
50% of mammalian violence is caused by proximal stress, often “passed-on” abuse from another individual: you beat me up, then I go kick the dog. As humans, we have a biological predisposition to spread violence, and the moral imperative to train our minds not to.
No correlation between intellectual intelligence and moral compass. Level of intelligence does not predict a person's altruism. Those who perform incredibly heroic acts were often taught from childhood about right and wrong. They do not report reasoning about their selflessness, rather “The next thing I knew I had dived into the river.”
People are notoriously bad at predicting what will make them happy. Marriage doesn’t do it for long; widowhood doesn’t destroy it for long; and being wealthy doesn’t do it either.
A recurring theme was that experienced meditators have increased activity in the prefrontal cortex, the area that controls decision-making and emotional expression. This may explain moderated responses to unsettling stimuli, as well as greater emotional equanimity in daily life.
Sunday, November 06, 2005
Approaching DC from the Air
Arlington cemetery is right by the Pentagon,
by the place where the plane flew in.
I don’t claim to know if war is right, only that it hurts.
So much of this life I enjoy is based on forgotten sacrifice.
by the place where the plane flew in.
I don’t claim to know if war is right, only that it hurts.
So much of this life I enjoy is based on forgotten sacrifice.
Friday, November 04, 2005
OSU Cover Letter
Dear Colleagues in the College of Science,
I hope you’ll consider contacting me if your department requires an interim instructor in the biological sciences.
As you can see from my résumé, I combine a strong background as a research scientist with extensive teaching experience. I most enjoy lecturing at the undergraduate level, and am particularly interested in teaching and mentoring young people.
My greatest strengths are in making complicated material lucid and accessible to a range of learning styles, and in conveying genuine enthusiasm for a topic. I’ve taught lectures and lab classes, using pedagogical techniques ranging from inquiry-based learning to straight-ahead didacticism.
If you look carefully, you’ll see that I’m revisiting my academic roots after a hiatus. I’ve been living in Zen monasteries as residential trainee for the past two-and-a-half years. I came to this discipline via the same driving curiosity about fundamental questions that sparked my interest in neuroscience and my graduate research in the genetics of lifespan and aging: What are we? What does it mean to be conscious? What does it mean to be alive? I found intensive meditation practice to be a deeply satisfying way of investigating this human life from the inside.
One of the primary foci of my Zen training has been communicating the essential truth of things to others so that is understood on an intellectual, as well as intuitive, level. I am extremely interested in working with undergraduates in a manner that implicitly celebrates the wonder of the natural world and our place in it, utilizing the framework of scientific reasoning and the vast store of our factual knowledge about how living things function.
Although my current interest is in a temporary position, I could very well be available for a longer commitment. I hope that you’ll contact me if I might be of service to your department and your students.
Sincerely,
D G
I hope you’ll consider contacting me if your department requires an interim instructor in the biological sciences.
As you can see from my résumé, I combine a strong background as a research scientist with extensive teaching experience. I most enjoy lecturing at the undergraduate level, and am particularly interested in teaching and mentoring young people.
My greatest strengths are in making complicated material lucid and accessible to a range of learning styles, and in conveying genuine enthusiasm for a topic. I’ve taught lectures and lab classes, using pedagogical techniques ranging from inquiry-based learning to straight-ahead didacticism.
If you look carefully, you’ll see that I’m revisiting my academic roots after a hiatus. I’ve been living in Zen monasteries as residential trainee for the past two-and-a-half years. I came to this discipline via the same driving curiosity about fundamental questions that sparked my interest in neuroscience and my graduate research in the genetics of lifespan and aging: What are we? What does it mean to be conscious? What does it mean to be alive? I found intensive meditation practice to be a deeply satisfying way of investigating this human life from the inside.
One of the primary foci of my Zen training has been communicating the essential truth of things to others so that is understood on an intellectual, as well as intuitive, level. I am extremely interested in working with undergraduates in a manner that implicitly celebrates the wonder of the natural world and our place in it, utilizing the framework of scientific reasoning and the vast store of our factual knowledge about how living things function.
Although my current interest is in a temporary position, I could very well be available for a longer commitment. I hope that you’ll contact me if I might be of service to your department and your students.
Sincerely,
D G
Tuesday, November 01, 2005
Teaching
I had the honor of sitting in on two first-year Japanese classes at OSU.
I didn't learn any Japanese-- the classes were not nearly my level-- but I did learn that I really like young adults, and I'm more interested than ever in teaching undergraduates.
I didn't learn any Japanese-- the classes were not nearly my level-- but I did learn that I really like young adults, and I'm more interested than ever in teaching undergraduates.
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