Being-time

"Much of our difficulty in understanding time is due to the unwise use of spatial metaphors--in fact, the objectification of time requires such spatial metaphors--but in this case a spatial comparison is helpful. We normally understand objects such as cups to be 'in' space, which implies that in themselves they must have a self-existence distinct from space. However, not much reflection is necessary to realize that the cup itself is irremediably spatial. All its parts must have some thickness, and without the various spatial relations among the bottom, sides, and handle, the cup would not be a cup. One way to express this is to say that the cup is not "in" space but itself is space: the cup is 'what space is doing in that place,' so to speak. The same is true for the temporality of the cup. The cup is not a nontemporal self-existing object that just happens to be 'in' time, for its being is irremediably temporal. The point of this is to destroy the thought-constructed dualism between things and time. When we wish to express this, we must describe one one in terms of the other, by saying either that objects are temporal (in which case they are not objects as we usually conceive of them) or, conversely, that time is objects--that is, that time manifests itself in the appearances we call objects. We find beautiful expressions of this in Dōgen. 'The time we call spring blossoms directly as an existence called flowers. The flowers, in turn, express the time called spring. This is not existence within time; existence itself is time.' This is the meaning of his term 'being-time' (uji):

'Being-time' means that time is being; i.e., 'Time is existence, existence is time.' The shape of a Buddha-statue is time. . . . Every thing, every being in this entire world is time. . . . Do not think of time as merely flying by; do not only study the fleeting aspect of time. If time is really flying away, there would be a separation between time and ourselves. If you think that time is just a passing phenomenon, you will never understand being-time."

From David Loy's Nonduality: A Study in Comparative Philosophy (1998)

This whole discussion is fascinating--I particularly like the Dōgen stuff.

Calasso

Interviewer: What is happiness for you, as a writer and creator?

Roberto Calasso: Happiness? I try not to speak of it. I feel it should belong
subterraneously to life. It doesn't want to be talked about too much,
I think.

(Paris Review, Fall 2012)

Nothing noths

"Nozick’s own hypotheses were certainly strange. One was that the primal nothingness might have been so annihilating that it annihilated itself, thus producing being. This echoes a much-mocked line of Heidegger’s: “nothing noths” (“Das Nichts nichtet”)."

'Why Does the World Exist?' by Jim Holt; New York Times, August 2, 2012.

Pain

"The fear of pain is the greatest inhibitor of growth."

--Fritz Perls, Gestalt Therapy Verbatim (1969)

Internalization

"The task of all our knowing is to enable us to incarnate all that we tend only to believe is outside and independent of us."

--Bubba Free John

I was thinking about this quote in terms of what we were talking about the other day--the observation that conflict which appears external, playing out with the people around us, is often mirrored by the same conflict within ourselves. I don't think all conflicts with others can be accurately described as only and truly internal, but I do think that this idea helps clarify a lot of interpersonal strife (by returning to and recognizing the intrapersonal).

This relationship takes on many guises, one of which is the process of projection. The mechanism whereby we cast out a conflict, tension, or ambiguity within the psyche onto the external world, especially other people, is learned pretty early in childhood. It has its purpose--to protect the sanity and coherence of the fledgling ego as it gradually develops in a relatively stressful world. But it is a sign of maturity, I think, when the ego is strong enough to recognize and face its intrapersonal or intrapsychic dynamics that are reflected in its conflicts with other people.

Although Bubba Free John is speaking in a spiritual context--namely, the conviction held by the mystics that one can even "incarnate" (or, rather, realize or recognize) God within oneself--I find the principle also applicable to more "grounded" realms of human experience. Take the perception of beauty--if I find a particular painting beautiful, I believe that the painting, which I feel is outside of me, possesses the beauty. But I think a more accurate appraisal of the situation is that the painting reflects the beauty that I possess within. Or--I have used the metaphor of enjoying a natural landscape elsewhere (and I think I may have encountered the image somewhere in my reading). If I and a squirrel are looking at the Grand Canyon, only I will be able to feel the beauty and grandeur of the vista. The squirrel cannot. So it must be that the beauty is not finally an attribute of the vista, but is an attribute of me. Or perhaps the beauty is inherent in the vista but it takes a perceiver, a subject, that is capable of registering that beauty for it to be expressed or exchanged. Either way, my capacity as a human is crucial to the manifestation, or perception, of this beauty. And if I realize that, I have taken the first step towards incarnating the beauty within. Because it is certainly there, I just need to find it.

I think this is one of the general principles behind the many schools of meditation across the world, especially those involving visualization. But that is for another day.

Natural vs. conventional

Love is probably the emotion most talked about and extolled by Americans and probably also the least understood. In large measure this is because love seems a natural human emotion that requires no explanation. It is taken for granted that love for one's spouse and children is a universal element in human experience, something that men of all places and ages have felt in common. Affection and warmth are universal, to be sure, but not love in the middle-class sense of the word. What seems to be a natural emotional response is largely a conventional response.

The range of human emotional potential is broad, and that set of responses which accorded the highest value in one society may not be highly regarded in another. Thus, filial piety was considered the finest emotion in traditional Chinese society, patriotism was the transcendent emotion in ancient Sparta, the Puritans extolled the fear of God above all else, and the modern Americans exalt love.

--Gail and Snell Putney, The Adjusted American: Normal Neuroses in the Individual and Society (1964)

An excellent book by two sociologists, analyzing some of the assumptions underlying mid-century, middle class American society, and their psychological ramifications. Particularly interesting are discussions, like the one above, about the consequences of equating natural with conventional. (They use "love" in a few different ways in the book, some more consistent and precise than others, so it's difficult to get the full sense of that discussion from just this quote. I am emphasizing the "emotional potential" point more here).

(J)

...symbols, theories and opinions...

  Everything written symbols can say has already passed by.  They are like tracks left by animals.  That is why the masters of meditation refuse to accept that writings are final.  The aim is to reach true being by means of those tracks, those letters, those signs - but reality itself is not a sign, and it leaves no tracks.  It doesn't come to us by the way of letters or words.  We can go toward it, by following those words and letters back to what they came from.  But so long as we are preoccupied with symbols, theories and opinions, we will fail to reach the principle.
  But when we give up symbols and opinions, are we left in the utter nothingness of being?
  Yes.

Kimura Kyuho, Kenjutsu Fushigi Hen [On the Mysteries of Swordsmanship], 1768

(H)