First, kudos to Edward for his comment on my "Finding Meaning in Meaninglessness" post. Like follow kudo'er Adam, I love the line, I have found that my life is none of my business. A comment excerpt:
There is no reason to be sure of anything. My certainty changes nothing of how I engage the world. Even being sure that I know nothing actually impedes my effective participation.
I have found that my life is none of my business. I get that there are (at least) two things going on: what I think is happening; and what is happening. These coincide most when I let the thinking happen, and give it the same valence as dreaming.
This makes a lot of sense to me, which probably shows that I don't understand it. Regardless, all I have to work with is what's at hand. Me.
Who would like to genuinely feel that life is none of my business, because that would mean that death isn't my business either. As it stands, I envision death often – not my favorite subject, especially when I'm being tested on it.
Which I'm not right now, or I wouldn't be sitting here typing on my laptop. But every indication, sadly, points to the fact that one day I'll be taking the final exam.
A Barna Group survey found that about 8 out of 10 Americans believe in an afterlife of some sort. One out of 10 believe that there is no form of life after one dies on earth. And one out of 10 (9%, actually) said life after death may exist, but they weren't certain.
Count me in the uncertain 9%. A percentage that really should be 100%, since neither the 81% of afterlife believers nor the 10% of afterlife deniers can be sure what's going to happen after they die.
The question for me is, what attitude toward death fosters the most living while I'm alive?
Often religious believers say that believing Jesus, Buddha, Allah, God, Krishna, Guru, or whoever will meet them after death gives them peace of mind, contentment, happiness. Well, I'm sure it does.
So does cocaine, amphetamines, ecstasy (the drug), alcohol, marijuana, and other ways of coating one's consciousness with a layer of Ah, everything's all right.
Nothing wrong with this. Nothing at all. Echoing Marx, I just see religious belief as another feel-good "opium." And the problem with most addictive substances is their long-term side effects, not their immediate gift of Ah…
More and more often I've been going along through my day and getting hit with an intuitive out-of-nowhere smack on the psyche: "Life isn't going to last. This could be your one and only living, guy. Not only isn't this moment ever going to come again, after death no moment may ever come again."
Strangely (or not) that smack ends up feeling more like a caress. I'm grateful for it. It's a wake-up call. Brian, don't sleep walk through life like you so often do. Pay attention!
Life shows up most clearly against a well-defined backdrop. Death. Non-life.
So do white clouds coursing across clear blue sky. Out here in Oregon we get a lot of gray clouds hanging below gray overcast. Not nearly so attractive.
When people believe they'll enjoy an afterlife while they're in the midst of this life, the imagined "to come" blends with the actual "this is." Their attention is split between immediate and anticipated experience.
"Ooh, I'd like to do that. But God won't be happy with me when I get to the Pearly Gates, so I'd better not."
Uncertainty about what will happen after death provides a pleasing neutral backdrop to life. It's a lot easier to make out the details of a piece of art when it's been painted on a blank canvas, not one that's already been drawn on.
It's a matter of taste. Some people enjoy the baroque. Dogmas fastened upon theologies attached to beliefs suspended on anticipations.
I'm more into simplicity (though often you couldn't tell this by looking at the top of my desk). A few flowers in an unadorned vase on a mostly bare shelf.
A few minutes ago I was reading the weekly Sisters, Oregon newspaper and came across a realtor's ad. She said, in bold letters:
I like living here. I do it all the time.
Nicely said.
Some people, though, live here and there – earth and heaven, reality and fantasy – simultaneously. Not advisable, if you really want to enjoy the neighborhood.
If we start with an unexamined belief that "I" is a substantial thing, then questions of an afterlife arise (i.e., we may question whether or not this "I" continues to exist when the body dies).
But if we start by examining the "I" itself, it becomes clear that we don't know what it is. So the "afterlife" questions become moot.
Stuart
http://stuart-randomthoughts.blogspot.com/
Posted by: Stuart Resnick | June 01, 2008 at 03:01 PM
Stuart,
I understand what you are saying here. But my lived experience ranges so greatly from incredibly scared to elated to quiet to noisy to whatever. "I" would like to find contentment, and "I" also see somehow that contentment most likely comes from letting go..."I" am standing on the diving board looking down at the cold water below. I am getting the message that diving in is the only solution, but I also know it will kill me. How to get the guts?
Posted by: Adam | June 01, 2008 at 04:01 PM
Edward:
I, too, found your sentence:
"I have found that my life is none of my business"
acted as a jolt into my usual everyday perception/awareness.
Thanks, Edward.
Elizabeth W
Posted by: elizabeth w | June 01, 2008 at 07:49 PM
Thanks for the kudos, Adam, Brian, Elizabeth.
As my children got older, I started wondering about whose karma we were working on while our family made family-type choices: does my wife need to be ill, or is this a lesson for one of the boys? Who among us needs to move to a new house? Is the school trouble my burden, or theirs?
Then I realized how narrow-minded such a point of view is. All of the people that I interact with, you interact with - there is no separation of karma, or dharma; no injustice and also no illness. Like the snake said to the buddha, "It's only suffering if it hurts."
I know how to be sad, and when someone close to me dies, I grieve, but that is not suffering.
So maybe investing in an afterlife is being already dead, and simultaneously trying to kill one's fellows. And that would be suffering.
Posted by: Edward | June 02, 2008 at 10:03 AM
two thoughts:
first, I was at the gym just now and thought to myself that now would be a good time to send Brian kudos as well. Edward's comment seems to have interested a bunch of people, and at the gym I suddenly understood the uniqueness of this occurrence. It seems to me that blogging like this presents opportunities for this type of insight to occur and be shared. This type of personal sharing combined with clarity of expression doesn't always happen in conversations, which tend to be a little messier, nor in books, which are more formal. So thanks Brian for your insights and for keeping this blog. I think its highly valuable.
My second thought is about Edward's comment, because it reminded me of something I just read in a book by Pema Chodron called "the Places that Scare You." She talks of egolessness as a truth, not something to attain, which is akin to saying, "my life is none of my business." The change that takes place is getting comfortable with the reality of egolessness, rather than "conquering the ego." I think this slight twist in understanding actually has profound ramifications. I think the non-dualists on this site who claim that "spiritual practices" only reinforce the ego, are looking at these practices as the ego trying to conquer itself, which is just another identity for the ego to latch onto (i.e. the meditating human seeking peace). But in light of this twist, what if the meditating human sits with the hypothesis that the ego might truly be illusory and wants to find out what else is there. I hope I have been clear. This for me is an important point, and I think basically what I was trying to figure out in so many of my exchanges with tAo and Tuscon.
Posted by: Adam | June 02, 2008 at 01:38 PM
Adam wrote, "I am getting the message that diving in is the only solution, but I also know it will kill me. How to get the guts?"
In taking up "What am I?", one style is to cultivate the guts of a warrior. Like we're going into battle to kill this "I." Maybe when I was younger, that type of perspective was more appealing; maybe it was necessary to get me off my ass (i.e., onto my ass) to put real effort into the question.
Now I'm middle aged, and decades of living in California has made me more mellow. And thankfully, I've found a Zen master who's an old hippie, and thus into more gentle metaphors.
So now, I don't look at self-inquiry as a battle requiring guts. It's more like an exploration, requiring curiosity, wondering, completely open-minded examination of this very moment. Simply bringing up the question -- what is this "I"? -- and then letting the big Don't Know appear.
Stuart
http://stuart-randomthoughts.blogspot.com/
Posted by: Stuart Resnick | June 02, 2008 at 07:16 PM
Hi Stuart,
Nice response, thanks.
Posted by: Adam | June 03, 2008 at 06:42 AM
Stuart wrote: "If we start with an unexamined belief that "I" is a substantial thing, then questions of an afterlife arise (i.e., we may question whether or not this "I" continues to exist when the body dies).
But if we start by examining the "I" itself, it becomes clear that we don't know what it is. So the "afterlife" questions become moot."
This is one of the most profound things I've read by a commentator on this blog.
I've wanted to express this myself for years, but would likely have taken pages & pages & pages to express what has been encapsulated here in a few lines. (though perhaps it's inherent profundity is lost on some because of it's shortened simplicity?)
Excellent!
Posted by: Manjit | June 03, 2008 at 02:40 PM
Dude, these thoughts are all well and good while you are still well on the safe side of death, but, believe me, when your time comes, you are going to be praying to something.
Posted by: Sam | July 29, 2008 at 07:07 AM