constructed reality

sun image2POSTCARD06: Bangkok: Standing outside the house in the shade of a large tree, waiting for the taxi to the airport. The brightness of the sun is tremendous, colours are vivid, the world is a high resolution Photoshop enhancement. After the eye surgery I feel like a nocturnal creature, squinting in the daylight, a quiet presence behind sunglasses. I have an attachment to darkness, I’d like it to be dark, dull and rainy today but instead it feels like I’m in a television studio. The light penetrates everything. There are no real seasons in Thailand, no markers in the calendar to say where we are in the annual cycle. The weather is the same every day. Night comes at 6pm, instant darkness, then at 6am, instant daylight and each day is pretty much like the one before. The days become weeks, weeks become months, months become years. The whole thing is just one very long, continuous day, and night is the blink of an eye.

Time disappears, people are startled to discover they have aged… wake up one day to discover they’re old – life has gone. Rip Van Winkle fell asleep and woke up with a very long beard. The story is based on an Orkney folktale about an inebriated fiddler, late one night on his way home, hears some wonderful music and discovers a group of magical beings dancing in a circle. He plays his fiddle with them for a while and continues on his way home. When he arrives he discovers fifty years have passed; people have died, his daughter is middle-aged, her children are grown up. We don’t see the true nature of the world. Reality is thought to be what is out ‘there’, perceptions based on received sensory data input: what we see, hear, touch, taste, smell – and what we ‘think’ it is. What we recognize as a particular colour, is seen by an insect as ultra-violet, by a snake as infra-red. Who are we to say our view of the world is exactly what it is? The ground appears to be solid, terra firma even though the planet is spinning around, hurtling through outer space at thousands of miles an hour. Things are not what they seem to be.

A bright pink and white taxi approaches the house, enters the driveway and fills my vision. Bags inside, door slam, reverse out and we’re gone.

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‘… there are no colors in the real world… there are no textures in the real world. There are no fragrances in the real world. There is no beauty; there is no ugliness… Out there is a chaos of energy soup and energy fields. Literally. We take that and somewhere inside ourselves we create a world. Somewhere inside ourselves it all happens.’ [Sir John Eckles, Nobel Prize winner in physiology and medicine 1963]

Causes and Conditions

I’M STANDING AT THE BUS STOP. It’s a public holiday, the bus times are Horaires Vacances (holiday schedule). Some buses are cancelled and I can’t be sure of anything. Heavy urban traffic situation, heat, noise and it’s been a day of struggling to be calm. Try to remember everything is as it should be. I’m just having to deal with this contracted mind, right now, that’s all. I’m tightly focussed on something very much ‘held’. I need to ease back from that. It’s the ‘letting-go’ thing again.

On the other side of the road there’s a noticeboard with the holiday schedule times displayed. I’ll have to go and take a look, but the constant flow of traffic means it’s difficult to get across; everything seems charged with the energy of: get out-of-the-way please? I manage to get over eventually and studying the bus times on the schedule and, at the same time, watching for the possibility of the bus coming on the other side; I have to be ready to make a dash back across the road to catch it. Causes and conditions by themselves; things seem unattached and random. ‘I am a construct; a body/mind existing within time and space. On some level prior to this, I selected elements that resulted in this problematic sense of self; this calamitous world I now experience.’1

A huge lorry pulls in next to me, squeal of brakes, hiss of decompression and it blocks out the view of the street entirely. I’m suddenly in deep shadow. The driver climbs down from the cab, holding an ice cream cone in his teeth so that his hands are free to hold the various handles and negotiate the steps down to street level. He takes ice cream cone out of teeth in order to speak. ‘Bonjour monsieur,’ holds ice cream cone in one hand and unfolds a piece of paper with the fingers of the other hand; difficult to do this and keep the ice cream cone upright, but completely calm. He studies the paper and reads out a company address.

Mr Ice-Cream man wants to know where such-and-such a place is and I can’t hear clearly because of the noise of car horns behind the lorry, and drivers shouting about him blocking the road. But Mr Ice-Cream man remains completely okay about that, looks at me politely with arched eyebrow as I tell him that he needs to go to zone industrielle and how to get to the road that leads in that direction. ‘Merci monsieur’, he says and climbs back up, ice-cream cone held again in teeth; gears wrench into place and lorry lumbers off, followed by a long convoy of harassed cars who’ve probably been following him for some time through these narrow streets.

After he’s gone, I get back across the road to wait for the bus at my stop. It still hasn’t come and I’m worried now that it could have passed behind Mr Ice-Cream Man’s huge lorry when I was talking with him – hmmm, this is not good… or maybe I didn’t read the schedule correctly? I should go back over and read it again, but if I do that, what’ll happen if the bus arrives over here and I’m over there and not able to get back to this side in time? Deep breath. The entanglement of anticipation; the actively ‘waiting-for-things-to-happen’ mode. I’ll stay on this side. After a few moments the bus comes round the corner, I’m reassured; a wonderful system that has it’s contingency plan monitoring function built-in.

Double doors hiss open, cool air-conditioning, I enter into the familiar world of ‘being taken’ and join the passengers facing the direction of travel: ‘We are going THIS WAY’. Bus moves off into the town. I’m seated, looking at the back of people’s heads and beyond that to the back of the driver’s head and the view of the street out front. I can see where we are going and I can turn around, look out the back window and see where we are coming from. The whole outside world is coming in through these large windows, passing through the inside and out again; it feels like there really is no bus.

I wonder if Mr Ice-Cream man found his way allright and where he is now ….

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… Ramakrishna came out of his trance and acknowledged that if the world is an illusion of our senses then we ourselves are part of that same illusion…. The mind is a construct of the mind and therefore does not truly exist.’ [Peter Harvey, Wikipedia, 86.27.37.82 (talk) 22:36, 30 November 2011 (UTC)]

1[Link to: David Bingham, Conscious TV]

Bus Image: detail from a photo by Louk Vreeswijk

Curious Blessings

Aug 19: US President Barak Obama wished Muslims around the world “Eid Mubarak” for the festival marking the end of the holy month of Ramadan. In a statement released by the White House the President extended warm wishes to Muslim communities in the United States and around the world as they celebrate Eid al-Fitr. President Obama said: “we congratulate Muslim Americans and Muslims around the world on this joyous day. Eid Mubarak.”

This morning around 5 am I open the laptop and get the news. Yes, I’d forgotten about the Eid, it’s not something you’d really notice unless you’re living in a Muslim community. Around this time of year, at the end of Ramadan the sighting of a sliver of the new moon at sunset signals that this is Eid al-Fitr – it happens at different times for Muslims in various parts of the world. The only time I experienced this was when Jiab and I were in Dhaka Bangladesh. And by coincidence we had a visit from a Buddhist monk from Thailand at that time. We hadn’t realised that his visit would be on the day of the Eid, and when I noticed the date on the calendar I sent an email to Ajahn suggesting we postpone the visit because of the Eid, but he insisted it was ok; in fact, a good time to come.

My hesitation was that Eid is when they slaughter cows and distribute meat to all members of the community. It’s a big day of benevolence and all the poor gather around the houses of the rich waiting to receive their share. If you’re a vegetarian, it’s hard to look at this. The thing is, there are all kinds of things we’d like to turn away from, and we can, but we’re deluding ourselves if we do – this is why Ajahn insisted we go ahead with the schedule. So, it wasn’t easy for me and I didn’t know what to expect. My Muslim friends said that in Dhaka city the presence of cow carcasses on that day would be hard to avoid. In Dhaka, like all Asian cities, everything happens on the street, in the public area, and there’d not be any route coming in from the airport that would not go through these sites. I needn’t have worried, though, because Ajahn was completely okay about it.

I went to the airport, found Ajahn in the crowd, not difficult to find him, the only one there in the pale tangerine-brown robe standing in the line beaming with joy. We left there for the apartment and on the way into the town all the places at the side of the road where the killings had taken place were pretty obvious and thankfully the killing had already happened, some hours before, at dawn. Muslim friends tell me there is a special way it’s done so that the animal feels no pain, no stress. We made our way through the slow moving traffic and could see piles of red and white animal parts and people milling around and it was like a butcher’s section in the food store on every street corner.

Ajahn pointed out that, when you think about it, it’s no different from what’s happening every day, animals are slaughtered for food. This is the reality of our world. All the time, somewhere in the world, maybe at this very moment, large numbers of cows, poultry, fish, goats, pigs are being killed and prepared for human consumption, let’s not delude ourselves. Yes, it’s quite a thought; we just prefer not to think about it and I hadn’t considered it that way. Reassuring to have Ajahn here because before he came I was finding it a bit difficult to accept.

There had been cows (and goats) everywhere in the city. For about a week before Eid, these animals were being taken into the city in lorries, in the back of pick-up trucks or led by farmers walking in from the rural areas. There were cow markets I’d pass through where animals were being sold and all the cows looked the same, white, pale fawn colour with curved vertical horns and that hump on the shoulder. There were cows in every part of the urban area – a farmyard smell of dung and straw. Cows were sitting at the roadside moving the jaw in a chewing motion as the traffic went by; they were in the carpark tethered to railings and street lights; all were being very well looked after and so they were just calmly and quietly sitting and standing around in pairs, usually, in a state of placid contentment. Some had garlands round their necks, painted horns, painted faces with eyes blackened around the edges like theatrical mascara and white and red make-up. It was a bizarre and colourful sight.

But now, of course they were all gone; transformed. No evidence that they’d ever been there, all was forgotten. Instead there were stacks of neatly cut animal parts laid out as if in a supermarket meat department.

At the apartment, the Buddhist event was starting, the group arriving with food offerings, flowers. All quiet, small, neat Thais wearing black and white costumes. There were about 15 people there on the first floor in that apartment in the Gulshan district – where all the foreign residents are and wealthy Bangladesh families. The Thai community in Dhaka is quite small, some business people, employees in hairdresser’s shops, Thai food stores, the Thai embassy staff and all were here to take the five precepts. Jiab is, of course, a Thai Buddhist – not like me, a Western buddhist and still learning how it works. Jiab’s mum and dad were Buddhist and it goes all the way back through her family lineage.

The ceremony took place; chanting, meditation, repetition of each part of the Five Precepts and more chanting. Ajahn gave a short talk about sila in the context of sila samadhi punya. And throughout the whole meeting there was the sound of sawing and banging: boom, boom, bang-bang-bang. At first I thought, what’s going on? Sounds like construction or people hammering things. But, after a while, I realised what it was. When the talk was over and as everyone was leaving I had a quick look out the back window where the noise had been coming from. There were these same heaps of butchered animal parts again. A whole carcass had been cut up here. There were large butchers wooden chopping boards, saws and the sound had been cleavers and small axes chopping and sawing through bones. Just below the window where the Buddhist monk was chanting….

And I don’t see it particularly as a characteristic of the Muslim faith, the same thing happens in all of the supply networks for the food industry; meat production in America and Europe, it’s the same thing. The only difference is that in the West it’s hidden and we’re not usually aware of it.

I’m glad it happened, as it did. Having the Buddhist monk there on that day to create blessings in the midst of everything was quite wonderful for us.

Long Journey Into Night

Delhi-Brussels flight: It’s been a long day’s journey into night, arriving in Brussels at dawn, get out of the plane and I’ll be on top of the world; the Northern Hemisphere. But before that, there’s the journey to get there. Yes, and that’s where I am right now, getting used to this seat that is contoured to fit the human body snugly, enough space for legs and knees with an inch of space from the seat in front – can see through the curtain into the business class, always the grass is greener…. I am one seated among many, perhaps 200 passengers, receiving services from the staff; a baby bird, beak wide open, feed me, please? Mind hungers to be stimulated by images, sound and pretty colours. It’s the movie – or the boredom of sitting in the dark. I choose the movie, kind of observing it, but not wearing the headset; just the silent visuals on the screens. It pulls me in; I feel I need to put the headset on to enter into the illusion more fully. And my hand reaches involuntarily towards the headset ear buds….

But it’s interesting enough without the sound. The structure of the movie is revealed. It’s a put-together thing, screen shots held for 5-10 seconds, a different camera angle presents a mini portrait of a talking head for a moment of drama; mouth moves in silence; face is there to be looked at, the hair style, the costume, fine dentistry, subtle cosmetics, the ‘mask’ – there’s a sense of how it is all so completely hollow.

Then another camera angle on another talking head, same thing again. Portraits of a created ‘self’. Pictures at an exhibition. Each portrait is an icon of the popular image: handsome, glamorous; the enigma of actor’s mask. There’s something about this that has no substance; ‘self’ masks the emptiness of no ‘self’. It hides nothing; nothing to hide, take the mask away and there’s nothing there, the void. Put the mask on again and it hides the gaping hole at the core of my being; nobody at home.

‘… each of us individually experiences this sense of unreality as the feeling that “something is wrong with me.” (We) pretend along with everyone else that “I’m okay; you’re okay.” A lot of social interaction is about reassuring each other and ourselves that we’re all really okay even though inside we feel somehow that we’re not.’ [David R. Loy]

A passenger howls like a dog, huge uninhibited yawns – deafened by the headset – immersed in his story; It’s like everything is layered in illusion, let’s pretend we are not here, somewhere in the air, well above the highest mountain peak, no oxygen to speak of…. Just this winged capsule, containing its own created environment and with sharp pointed nose, hurtling through space at 500 mph – as evidenced by the sound of displaced atmosphere shooshing and splooshing all around. And the subtle penetrating vibration beneath the feet. Gone is the reassuring sense of terra firma that was there back in Delhi about 3,000 miles in a sort of back-that-way direction.

There is also the mind-boggling thought that the plane drives itself, there’s no ‘self’ doing the driving. It’s the autopilot. The actual pilot is probably watching the movie, quite unconcerned about the fact that the plane is travelling at this immense speed and there’s nobody driving it? I am concerned, you could say: whelmed – not overwhelmed – there’s sufficient composure; I can see the scale of it and how that fits in with the way things are in our usual world down there on the surface of the planet. We generally avoid the emptiness in the centre of our being by holding on to something else we think will give us stability and security. Up here it’s more of a confrontation, we can’t avoid facing this emptiness all around, inside and out… there’s always the movie, of course and that holds the attention for a while. Then some other desire comes along and there’s always the response to that, and postponing the emptiness can go on indefinitely. In fact, accepting the emptiness is not the problem we make it out to be:

‘… the curious thing about (facing this) emptiness is that it’s not really a problem. The problem is that we think it’s a problem. Our ways of trying to escape it make it into a problem.’ …. Instead of experiencing a sense of lack, the emptiness becomes a place where there is now awareness of something other than, more than, my usual sense of self. I can never grasp that “more than,” I can never understand what it is – and I do not need to, because “I” am an expression of it.’

So, what is ‘it’, exactly? Buddhists call it Nibbana. Beyond that, there’s nothing here that my present state of consciousness can comprehend. To say it could be this or it could be that is speculative conjecture, and I’m caught again in grasping. Rather than contemplate what it could be, better to understand what it is not. Some time after that, I fall asleep, the passenger aircraft disappears in the dark night and the next day we are in Brussels.

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‘Buddhism is a collection of paradoxes. Perhaps the greatest of these is all Buddhists are striving for a goal – Nibbana – that for the longest time they know virtually nothing about. Most people, Buddhists included, cannot bear living with uncertainty and so over the centuries attempts have been made to fill in the gaps left (deliberately) by the Buddha. Elaborate explanations and descriptions of Nibbana have been fashioned either to inspire or to placate this sense of dis-ease. The presentation by Venerable Payutto in Buddhadhamma keeps to the ‘bare bones’ approach delivered by the Buddha. The encouragement is not to try and reach Nibbana by intellectual acrobatics but rather by humble, sustained spiritual practice.’ [Link to: Buddhist Teachings]

rope seen as snake

OLD NOTEBOOKS: Nontaburi, Thailand: Alone in a house surrounded by trees. Leaves filter a lovely green light all around; birds, lizards, squirrels, I see something move out on the patio… is it a bird, dropped down from a branch to peck at something? There, it moves again – just a hop and it’s a few feet further on. I sit very still, don’t want to frighten it away. I see it now, in the same position, not moving. After a long time waiting for it to change position, I decide to slowly get up and see what happens when I do that. It’s still not moving – maybe it’s injured. I go out on the patio and walk up to it. Ahhh… the bird is not a bird, it’s a large brown leaf, blown by the wind across the patio surface.

Go back inside and look at it again. It looks exactly like a bird, and just then a gust of wind blows the leaf. The animation of it is absolutely convincing, but I see it now as a leaf, not a bird. How strange, believing that something is there, then having to accept that it’s not. The teaching about the rope and the snake; a piece of rope lying on the ground is thought to be a snake. It’s an analogy of ‘self’ seen in consciousness + name-and-form: I recognize that the rope is a rope, not a snake, and can see how the illusion occurs. Or I may not see it and be convinced it’s a snake… maybe for a long time – a whole lifetime preoccupied with a ‘self’ that isn’t there.

This small epiphany occurs after another curiously similar event took place in this quiet house. I’m alone here except for D who is a grad student, working part-time, and he also takes care of the place. I don’t see D much, he works night shift sometimes, sleeping in the middle of the day. The house is large and I’m never absolutely sure if he’s here or not. Usually he stays in his room so I’m used to not seeing him around. I just quietly go about the house, day after day, not making too much noise in case he’s sleeping and quite often forget about him completely.

Then, just the other day, I start to wonder what happened to him. I look in the car park and his car is not there. When did I last see his car? Two days ago, or longer than that? I go to look at his laundry – could be the same laundry that’s been there for a while… clothes without a person inside them – remembering the movie: The Time Traveller’s Wife. I have to stop for a moment and think, when did I see him last? Go up to his room, door is open, nobody there. Hard to believe, I assumed D was in the house but I’ve been alone the whole time. The leaf-seen-as-bird metaphor. Something I thought was there, wasn’t… thinking it’s one thing, then it’s not. The usual sense of ‘me’ suddenly gone… then it returns again. Everything feels light and transparent.

‘It was as if lightning coursed within my chest. The impact lasted for a while, and for the next few weeks whenever I saw people, they seemed like a magician’s illusions in that they appeared to inherently exist but I knew that they actually did not.’ [‘How to Practice: The Way to a Meaningful Life’. The Dalai Lama, in the sixties reflecting on the Rope Seen As Snake metaphor, phenomena being dependent on conceptuality and his discovery that the “I” exists conceptually, dependent on mind and body; not an entity in itself] Source: Emptiness and Existence:

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This post reblogged from July 12, 2012