Imagine a man who has been pierced by an arrow well soaked in poison, and his friends and relatives go at once to fetch a physician or a surgeon. Imagine now that this man says:
“I will not have this arrow pulled out until I know the name of the man who shot it, and the name of his family, and whether he is tall or short or of medium height; until I know whether he is black or dark or yellow; until I know his village or town. I will not have this arrow pulled out until I know about the bow that shot it, whether it was a long bow or a cross bow.
“I will not have this arrow pulled out until I know about the bow-string, and the arrow, and the feathers on the arrow, whether they are feathers of vulture, kite or peacock.
“I will not have this arrow pulled out until I know whether the tendon which binds it is of an ox, deer, or monkey.
“I will not have this arrow pulled out until I know whether it is an arrow, or the edge of a knife, or a splinter, of the tooth of a calf, or the head of a javelin.”
Well that man would die, but he would die without having found out any of these things. In the same way, anyone who says: “I will not follow the holy life of Buddha until he tells me whether the world is eternal or not; whether the life and the body are two things, or one thing; whether the one who has reached the Goal is beyond death or not; whether he is both beyond death and not beyond death; whether he is neither beyond death nor is not beyond death.”
Well that man would die, but he would die without Buddha having told these things.
Because I am one who says: whether the world is eternal or not, there is birth, and death, and suffering, and woe, and lamentation, and despair. And what I do teach is the means that lead to the destruction of these things.
Remember therefore that what I have said, I have said; and what I have not said, I have not said. And why have I not given and answer to these things? Because these questions are not profitable, they are not a principle of the holy life, they lead not peace, to supreme wisdom, to Nirvana.
Majjhima Nikaya 1. 63
Friday, July 29, 2005
Thursday, July 28, 2005
drifting
the three of us on upturned raft
floating in the cove
two lazy ores and lazy draft
our sailor stories make us laugh
peacefully we rove
my feet dangling over side
sun rays paint our skin
through the water toes magnified
i kick a bit to aid the ride
and once i jumped in
slowly rowing i and ethan
back from docks we came
paddle turn and talk to nathan
of this peace and hope my faith in
next year stays the same
floating in the cove
two lazy ores and lazy draft
our sailor stories make us laugh
peacefully we rove
my feet dangling over side
sun rays paint our skin
through the water toes magnified
i kick a bit to aid the ride
and once i jumped in
slowly rowing i and ethan
back from docks we came
paddle turn and talk to nathan
of this peace and hope my faith in
next year stays the same
Sunday, July 17, 2005
alice
she read a book that changed her life
and then she put away
all her thoughts and memories
that let her sadness stay
the book was real but she was not
she'd lost her subtle charm
the blinding light of life too bright
an optimistic harm
no longer pensively content
with life, and love repressed,
now like the others, not herself
naturally depressed
this made her worse than that before
so she old her sister
how she felt and what she would do
sometimes i still miss her
and then she put away
all her thoughts and memories
that let her sadness stay
the book was real but she was not
she'd lost her subtle charm
the blinding light of life too bright
an optimistic harm
no longer pensively content
with life, and love repressed,
now like the others, not herself
naturally depressed
this made her worse than that before
so she old her sister
how she felt and what she would do
sometimes i still miss her
Saturday, July 09, 2005
werther
A little over a year ago I started writing what is probably a character sketch, similar to Goethe’s Young Werther, only in the third person (and sometimes first) of a nameless individual. The majority of words I write are for myself, but I thought I would post some of the entries about this individual because in many ways we share the same perspective.
8/26/04
At most points in his day life does not strike him as a cohesive experience, not all his actions and not the collected existence of everyone around him. Most individuals seem to be more or less exclusive with their time and not inclusive. They don’t want to know others and they don’t want others to know them. In his more lucid moments he has a strong sense that what separates people is exactly that which binds them together; the personal struggles everyone has to cope with, the celebrations and the tragedies that have marked our paths and the presence they keep in our daily effort to survive and succeed, to make progress while providing safe travel for those who come after us. Never truly understood by anyone else and barely understanding ourselves, we corner our truest impressions of life and save them for ourselves, afraid of the ridicule and judgment that will come from those who might see our lives as we see them. All our parents soon die and so many friendships fade into the distance like ships to the other side of the world, and we never understand the full impact and importance of those friends until we understand that we shall never see them again. No one is content with the world they are given, some surrender to the inevitable while others work to obtain that which they know doesn’t exist in this world, peace and happiness, but their effort is their delusion, finding new ways to cope with bitterness of all our crumbled expectations and the disappointment of dreams fulfilled and their ephemeral gratification. Looking for ways to savor the sweetness of our best moments and then hang them on our walls as memories, reminders of happier days, their memory making us sad, making us remember why we continue to exist. We may develop affection for disappointment and an affinity for pain caused by our loved ones; it is the truest type of feeling and the deepest sense of our existence, because it’s what binds us all together, our unifying theme, the unsung anthem of humanity. And while everyone lonely, seeking companionship and belonging yet never satisfied, we are all lonesome together. It is the inevitable position of our species, seldom talked about but always alluded to. We desperately want to be satisfied and enjoy all that there is to find joy in, yet we also want others to feel what we are reaching for, the intangible happiness of our childhood and its lingering presence in our dreams. So many people so far removed from our piece of the world are in so much pain and suffer to degrees we can only read about. We the wealthy cannot make this life into an enjoyable existence, much less of a chance the poor and forgotten have. There are some who are disillusioned and idealistic, having become numb to their own existence, to the existence of everyone else. They fail to see the rain because they are too busy imaging a sun beyond the clouds, too simple to know the profundity of despair in existence, too self absorbed to recognize the chords that bind men together. He thinks these thoughts and feels their gravity, he thinks of life, he thinks it’s cumbersome.
8/26/04
At most points in his day life does not strike him as a cohesive experience, not all his actions and not the collected existence of everyone around him. Most individuals seem to be more or less exclusive with their time and not inclusive. They don’t want to know others and they don’t want others to know them. In his more lucid moments he has a strong sense that what separates people is exactly that which binds them together; the personal struggles everyone has to cope with, the celebrations and the tragedies that have marked our paths and the presence they keep in our daily effort to survive and succeed, to make progress while providing safe travel for those who come after us. Never truly understood by anyone else and barely understanding ourselves, we corner our truest impressions of life and save them for ourselves, afraid of the ridicule and judgment that will come from those who might see our lives as we see them. All our parents soon die and so many friendships fade into the distance like ships to the other side of the world, and we never understand the full impact and importance of those friends until we understand that we shall never see them again. No one is content with the world they are given, some surrender to the inevitable while others work to obtain that which they know doesn’t exist in this world, peace and happiness, but their effort is their delusion, finding new ways to cope with bitterness of all our crumbled expectations and the disappointment of dreams fulfilled and their ephemeral gratification. Looking for ways to savor the sweetness of our best moments and then hang them on our walls as memories, reminders of happier days, their memory making us sad, making us remember why we continue to exist. We may develop affection for disappointment and an affinity for pain caused by our loved ones; it is the truest type of feeling and the deepest sense of our existence, because it’s what binds us all together, our unifying theme, the unsung anthem of humanity. And while everyone lonely, seeking companionship and belonging yet never satisfied, we are all lonesome together. It is the inevitable position of our species, seldom talked about but always alluded to. We desperately want to be satisfied and enjoy all that there is to find joy in, yet we also want others to feel what we are reaching for, the intangible happiness of our childhood and its lingering presence in our dreams. So many people so far removed from our piece of the world are in so much pain and suffer to degrees we can only read about. We the wealthy cannot make this life into an enjoyable existence, much less of a chance the poor and forgotten have. There are some who are disillusioned and idealistic, having become numb to their own existence, to the existence of everyone else. They fail to see the rain because they are too busy imaging a sun beyond the clouds, too simple to know the profundity of despair in existence, too self absorbed to recognize the chords that bind men together. He thinks these thoughts and feels their gravity, he thinks of life, he thinks it’s cumbersome.
introverts
“One of the most important forms of the child libido (energy of life that drives one to fulfill desires) occupation is fantasy making. The child’s world is one of imaginary and make-believe where he can create for himself satisfaction and enjoyment which the world of reality so often denies. As a child grows and the real demands of life are made upon him it becomes increasingly necessary that his libido be taken away from his fantastic world and used for the required adaptation to reality needed by his age and condition, until finally the adult freedom of the whole libido is necessary to meet the biological and cultural demands of life.
Instead of thus employing the libido in the real world, however, certain people never relinquish the seeking for satisfaction in the shadowy world of fantasy and even though they make certain attempts at adaptation they are halted and discouraged by every difficulty and obstacle in the path of life and are easily pulled back into their inner psychic world. This condition is called a state of introversion. It is concerned with the past and reminiscence which belong thereto. Situations and experiences which should have been completed and finished long ago are still dwelt upon and lived with. Images and matters which were once important but which normally have no significance for their later age are still actively influencing their present lives. The nature and character of these fantasy products are legion, and are easily recognized in the emotional attitudes and pretensions, the childish illusions and exaggerations, the prejudices and inconsistencies which people express in manifold forms. The actual situation is inadequately faced; small matters are reacted towards I an exaggerated manner; or else a frivolous attitude is maintained where real seriousness is demanded. In other words there is clearly manifest an inadequate psychic adaptation towards reality which is quite to be expected from the child, but which is very discordant in the adult.
The introvert…reacts to stimuli thinking and tends to withdraw from the object to think it over and weigh matters. For him action is difficult, uncertain and delayed. He cannot make an immediate and direct contact with the object because between his feelings and the object is his ego. An extreme example of this is in Hamlet ‘all sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought,’ he broods, meditates and is often moody. If the introvert has had intellectual training and development he substitutes for his difficulty in activity and quick adjustment to the changing conditions of life, the creation of theories, philosophies and logical reasoning about things and seek to adapt himself mentally-his trouble comes in putting these ideas into practical application. This does not mean he is without feelings-one class of introvert is often called the emotional type-but his feeling is undifferentiated, and he reveals and inadequate emotional reaction and valuation. His emotions when aroused frequently show underdeveloped character so that it is not surprising to find highly cultivated introverts acting in a childish and infantile manner with deep moods of depression.”
Dr. Beatrice M. Hinkle, An Outline of Psychoanalysis.
not completly accurate but close enough
Instead of thus employing the libido in the real world, however, certain people never relinquish the seeking for satisfaction in the shadowy world of fantasy and even though they make certain attempts at adaptation they are halted and discouraged by every difficulty and obstacle in the path of life and are easily pulled back into their inner psychic world. This condition is called a state of introversion. It is concerned with the past and reminiscence which belong thereto. Situations and experiences which should have been completed and finished long ago are still dwelt upon and lived with. Images and matters which were once important but which normally have no significance for their later age are still actively influencing their present lives. The nature and character of these fantasy products are legion, and are easily recognized in the emotional attitudes and pretensions, the childish illusions and exaggerations, the prejudices and inconsistencies which people express in manifold forms. The actual situation is inadequately faced; small matters are reacted towards I an exaggerated manner; or else a frivolous attitude is maintained where real seriousness is demanded. In other words there is clearly manifest an inadequate psychic adaptation towards reality which is quite to be expected from the child, but which is very discordant in the adult.
The introvert…reacts to stimuli thinking and tends to withdraw from the object to think it over and weigh matters. For him action is difficult, uncertain and delayed. He cannot make an immediate and direct contact with the object because between his feelings and the object is his ego. An extreme example of this is in Hamlet ‘all sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought,’ he broods, meditates and is often moody. If the introvert has had intellectual training and development he substitutes for his difficulty in activity and quick adjustment to the changing conditions of life, the creation of theories, philosophies and logical reasoning about things and seek to adapt himself mentally-his trouble comes in putting these ideas into practical application. This does not mean he is without feelings-one class of introvert is often called the emotional type-but his feeling is undifferentiated, and he reveals and inadequate emotional reaction and valuation. His emotions when aroused frequently show underdeveloped character so that it is not surprising to find highly cultivated introverts acting in a childish and infantile manner with deep moods of depression.”
Dr. Beatrice M. Hinkle, An Outline of Psychoanalysis.
not completly accurate but close enough
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