"If a tree falls and nobody is there to hear it, does it make a sound?"
As far as the approach of this blog is concerned, the answer is a resounding no. We could quibble around with terms and concepts and say that sound may exist in an objective, emperical sense whether or not people are around to "hear" it -- but I want nothing to do with this approach. It is our experience, I declare, that is the fundamental base-ingredient of all things. Really, what could be placed before experience? We can imagine answers to this question all day long (God, matter, the universe, etc), but when it comes down to it our imagination is founded upon our experience of imagining. And without this sheer and utter experience, we're left with nothing -- or less than nothing, since the term "nothing" is indeed "something" that we made up.
In regard to "Bringing the World to Life" and this current post, what I'm concerned with is the reality we create for ourselves through our active experience and conscious realization of things. What is the color "red" without our recognition of it? Or how about the number "5" -- does it exist outside of the numerical concept we've created? The general thesis for this entry -- and really this series and the entire blog itself -- is that things only exist when we give birth to the possibility of such existence in our minds. And it is the experience of this realization that brings our world to life.
There is perhaps nothing more fundamental to our perception of reality than our experience of cycles. We have the beginning -- or coming into being; we have the middle -- or the duration of the being itself; and we have the end -- the going out of being. All of these are founded upon the "silence" -- out of which things come, and back into which things go. In the broadest sense, we have our human life. In that life are years, days, hours, seconds. In those seconds, our lives are filled with constant arrivals and departures, all interwoven and interrelated, all on top of and inside one another.
Before such a recognition, there is no form and no shape. There is a void; there is an abyss. A bug might wander through life, always going to new places and following no apparent path. Yet, to an outside observer, this bug might clearly be moving in circles. If the bug doesn't percieve these circles, do they exist? As far as the bug's experience goes -- no. If the recurring signpots aren't recognized along the way, the path walked is random and always different. It is through recognizing these signposts that we become aware of the cyclical nature of all things. It is the realization of these cycles, in my experience, which has been fundamental in "bringing the world to life."
For myself, it was the work of Joseph Campbell which woke me up to this realization. In particular, his idea of the "Hero's Journey" -- a fundamental sequence of events, universal in their application -- which acted as an injection of life into my world. At the most basic level, Campbell described this journey as "a departure, a fulfillment, and a return." The basic idea is, no matter what stage of the journey you're at, you become conscious of whatever phase of the journey you're curently working through. To go through life with awareness of where you are is one thing; but to have an awareness of where you are relative to where you've been and where you're going -- this invites into your life a heightened sense of experience which hits closer to the inner-mark.
As I was introduced to this idea and wove it into the fabric of my daily life, it was my frequent visits to the gym that brought it to life. I would usually go to the gym just after sunset. Being about a half-mile run through campus, I saw myself departing for an important destination -- as if on a hunting expedition or quest for treasure. In the few minutes it took me to get there, I would visualize the night's workout in my head. Upon arriving, I cross the threshold and enter the labyrinth. From exercise to exercise I would move. In each exercise, from set to set I would progress. In each set, from repitition to repitition I would advance. In between sets I would have a short break -- this is the silence, "out of which all things come, back into which all things go."
At the end of the workout, it was time for the return -- the tired run home. While usually exhausted, being aware of the cyclical nature of all things allowed me to "tap into" the greater reserves of strength I had discovered. Indeed, during any one moment we may find ourselves tired or overwhelmed or lacking energy. Yet, when we view ourselves in the greater sequence of events, our menial and tedious activities are brought to life. Instead of simply "running," for instance, we're training for that big race. Instead of merely "working," for example, we're getting the job done so that we can pay the bills and feed the baby. Through broadening our perspective, we become aware of the interrelatedness of our daily activities and our experience is enlivened.
Once one wakes up to this "broadening of persepctive," a self-reinforcing chain of events begins. We see how each and every thing we do is related to everything else we do. The work I do today makes a difference come tomorrow. The work I do tomorrow has an impact on where I will be next year. Where I am next year is of paramount importance to where I ultimately end up. There is really no limit to this all-encompassing approach.
Recognizing "the all" in "the singular" frees us from a worldview of isolated, momentary and fleeting occurances. Any task -- no matter how seemingly meaningless -- is not only related to, but somehow identical to each other task in life. This notion is described somewhat in Michael Crichton's book Jurassic Park. The following passage is spoken by Ian Malcolm:
A big mountain, seen from far away, has a certain rugged mountain shape. If you get closer, and examine a small peak of the big mountain, it will have the same mountain shape. In fact, you can go all the way down the scale to a tiny speck of rock, seen under a microscope -- it will have the same basic fractal shape as the big mountain. (p. 170)And as such, life is not full of the tedious chores that are mere "means to an end," but are in fact the end in themselves. We are not working and saving up for an experience of life -- that experience is instead to be found right now, in this very moment. Let me explain.
Look at the task of taking a morning shower and getting ready for work. In a certain sense, this task is a microcosm for life i tself. The shower itself? Bliss. The warm water is heavenly. We can easily lose ourselves in the steamy goodness... our ego almost falls away, subject and object become obsolete. But, just as with our time in the womb, such a thing is not meant to last. Just as a mama's water breaks, there comes a time when we must turn the water off and undergo our birth (to the day that awaits us).
The water is off -- and we're plunged into birth trauma. Shock. Almost instantly, we become cold. At once, we're shoved back into the world of a subject and object... self and other... wet me and the cold air around me. While part of us surely wants to go back into warm shower-land (just as a crying baby yearns to go back into the womb), that is not an option. We must move onward. Next, we dry ourselves. And while we're still a bit cold and uncomfortable from the shock of our "birth," with each drying moment our condition improves. This corresponds to childhood -- a gradual "getting used to" of our surrounding world.
After drying ourselves, we comb our hair and shave. This is reminiscent of learning about and putting on the "mask" society has us wear. Like it or not, we learn how we're expected to look -- and to what extent we embrace or run from the social norm. Even those who rebel against society's norm wear masks so that they may recognize each other (the dressing styles and insignias of Goths, Anarchists, Punk, etc).
We move on from the bathroom into the bedroom and get dressed. This might be symbolic of the refined mask that we present to the outward world -- maturity. We're old enough to go our own way and play by the rules we wish to play by. Just as the transition into adulthood and beyond, we become and embrace our independence. And finally, at the end of our day, we get undressed -- passing our torch as our time ticks away. This is in preparation for our return to the womb of the tomb -- which in this case would be the warm bed. We go to sleep, entering the "silence" -- from which we came, to which we return.
So in that above case, we take the simple task of taking a shower and getting dressed -- and through it, a direct correspondance to our greater life-cycle is found. As stated earlier, the mere shower is not some waypoint along the path to "the person we're to become" -- rather, who we are during our experience of the shower (and getting dressed) is who we are for our entire lives. We might reject this statement, citing that our greater destiny is not to be bound in our experience of a menial task such as shower. To an extent, this is a fair approach...
...Yet, at the same time, it is also a disservice to our inner-most selves. For life is a continuous string of "moments" -- a bunch of "right nows" woven together seamlessly. In this light, our experience of life "right now" is a testament to our entire experience of life itself. Really, what else is there but "right now"? Similarly, it is "in this moment" when all things are started. When else? We can put things off for "later" or "tomorrow," but in far too many cases these are rationalizations that amount to nothing. As Janis Joplin said, “Tomorrow never happens. It’s all the same fucking day, man.” The same truth can be applied to each moment.
In conclusion, then: even in the busiest times of our lives, these moments (when fully entered/embraced) provide rest, resolve, peace, and stillness. The transient world of fleeting forms can be screaching by all around us at a staggering rate -- but if we find that still spot in our center, we are blessed with perfect balance and immunized against the crazniess of the changing world.
Such a mental image suggests a tremendous wave approaching an individual. This wave represents the turmoil, trauma, and stress associated with a world of constant change. Being perfectly centered, though, this individual calmly raises his hand (or finger) in defiance. The wave, upon reaching him, splits off and is directed around him. In the middle of the universal chaos, when grounded to our center, we are untouched by this wave. It cannot reach us. For we are rooted with the part of ourselves that transcends all thigns material, fleeting and transient. We are rooted with the deepest source, and nothing can throw us off. And what always does throw us off is our own selves -- the thing we must work on mastering.
Each moment, then, is a test. A trial. Are we to be swayed by the whims of the material world's incessant demands? Or, through recognizing and embracing the cyclical nature of life, are we to embrace the stores of infinite power found in each moment? Life is suffering, we are told. It is not the suffering that is the problem, it is how we deal with the suffering. There is an old Arab proverb I'm fond of: "it is not the long road ahead that is to wear you out, it is the pebble in your boot." Through full realization of the interconnectedness and interrelatedness of all the cycles of life, transcendance of the material world's flaws is made possible.
This is not a road we walk alone. "I am a student of this heart just like my father," sings Mason Jennings. All who walked the road before us had the same challenges, ordeals, trials and tribulations. Just as broadening our perspective presents the "all" in the "singular" in regard to daily tasks, the same principle can be applied to the quest we're all thrown into. "We have not even to risk the adventure alone," writes Joseph Campbell, "for the heroes of all time have gone before us." He continues:
The labyrinth is thoroughly known. We have only to follow the thread of the hero path. And where we had thought to find an abomination, we shall find a god. Where we had thought to slay another, we shall slay ourselves. Where we had thought to travel outward, we will come to the center of our own existence. And where we had thought to be alone, we will be with all the world.
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