The Ethics of No Self

Last Friday, I found myself in the front garden of our summer home waiting for a van that seemed will be delayed. I had to wait. But, as I breathed in the fresh air of the summer morning. As I felt the gentled breeze of a cool morning on my face and hands, I felt at peace. I was lost. I felt no pain. The only thing I noticed was perhaps the cool air filling my lungs. But, eventually, I wasn’t there any more.

I was still aware of my sensory perceptions. Yet, at the same time, I was there but not there. I had, at that moment, no pain, no worries and no wants or needs. In that state of awareness, it didn’t even matter who I was any more. In a way, it was like sleep. Indeed, it was like I was dead to the world. Everything was alright. It didn’t matter what happened to me. And, in truth, I had no real control over many of what happened in my life.

And, as I emerged from that state of no self, I realised that what seemed like a very long time was actually just about five minutes. Where was I during that time? Was death just the cessation of all suffering that is caused by our attachment to a self? Indeed, was the self, a delusion and had no basis in fact? I pondered my thought further. For, what I felt or did not feel, during that moment was a realisation that I shouldn’t fear death that much.

Here, I’m not saying that life is to be wasted or that life is devoid of value. What I am saying that, often, it is that we become so attached to our ‘self’, that we forget that our ‘self’ constantly depends on our minds and bodies, on our world and on the people around us. In addition, there will be a time when we are not. And that is not an unfinished sentence. For, yes, when we die, we will not be who we (think) we are today. Indeed, it wouldn’t really matter to us who we are for we would not be able to conceive a separate identity or even of a ‘self’.

Of course, there was a time when I was not. A time when none of us were. For me, it was just before the 1980s. Yes, the time before I was even conceived! In this sense, there was a time when who I was wasn’t important. A time beyond self. And, this might be the truth about who we are. Or, rather, about who we are NOT. For, whether we believe it or not, our self may not be based on reality because an ‘objective’ reality never exists for us or any living being. This is because we will always experience our world through our senses. In a way, none of us can claim to have authority over truth.

Again, I’m not saying that there is no truth. What I am saying that we don’t have the capability to know absolute truths. There will always be a piece of the puzzle missing or, indeed, we may not have the means to find that piece in the present. We live in our own realities, if you may, and our sense of self may help us to better connect the fragments together. Yet, it would be a mistake to conclude that our final picture is the truth.

Who would we be without feeling? Without thought? Without emotions? Without society? Without the world? Without language? I could go on asking and asking more questions. But, I believe, that the answer to all these questions is simply that we would be not. After last Friday’s meditation, I realised how futile it is for us to give our ‘self’, an existence and importance as if we could exist without the smallest of living beings and without our brothers and sisters who form part of our human family.

Understanding this, I believe, is understanding the ethics of no self. For, if who we are closes our hearts and minds to others, then we are living the delusion of the self.

The Mystery of Being Human

Two questions:

Who are you?

Who am I?

Some personal reflections…

Are we our body?

Are we our faces?

Are we our voice?

Are we our thoughts?

Are we our feelings or emotions?

Are we our actions?

Are we our personalities?

Are we our name?

Are we our position?

Are we our language?

Are we our faith or belief?

Are we animals?

Are we spiritual beings?

Are we here for a purpose?

Is there an answer?

I find that these are a few of the many questions that I am growing aware of as I practice contemplative Buddhist meditation. There are so many aspects of who we are that we may be forced to define as distinct concepts as if they had an existence of their own.
Yet, a profound meditation on the nature of being forces me to consider that perhaps who I am is neither one or more of the characteristics we often define ourselves with. Our bodies, minds and voices to an extent determine our outer and physical appearance. Our inner being is expressed through a multitude of ways which include those we were born with and others we acquire through social contact. However, we are not our emotions. We are not our voice. We are not our states of mind. We are neither our name or our religion.

Yet, we often choose to belief the illusion that the reality that we express through communication is, in fact, reality itself.

With all the good intentions, some take extreme views to explain the human condition. On one hand, there are those who view reality only in terms of physical objects. There exist nothing beyond what science can measure. On the other hand, there are those who insist that the physical or material reality - although present - isn’t really what makes us humans. I recall some citing a saying to the effect that, it claims, we are spiritual beings trapped in human bodies.

Inasmuch as these accounts contain part of the truth about being, both views seem to hold a limited view of being. For what is a human being? As long as we are alive on this planet, we remain physical beings. At the same time, we are capable to extend our awareness beyond ourselves. We can think. But, contrary to Descartes, we are not who we are because we think. Rather, being is primary to thinking.

Indeed, who we are arises out of aa complex relation between our internal and external realities which give rise to a sense of being. In this respect, we are all of the things that we choose to be but who we are, ultimately, transcends all else. We are beyond concepts.


Once again, I return to being? What does it mean to be me? Who are we really? I believe that we can only find an answer if we stop asking and start listening. For, in silence and with a sincere desire to know, we may find that what we conceive or perceive are but a mystery.

Yes, we may reduce consciousness to a biological process involving interaction between neurones in the brain. We may even deny that there is any reality beyond matter. But, if who we are is an illusion which, in some ways, it is. Then who is asking the question to begin with?

Who is the ‘I’ that is doing the asking?

Who is asking ‘who am I’?

I am!

Now what?

Visions of Tomorrow

I’m writing this on a quiet Saturday morning. I plan to publish it tomorrow. And unless, something went wrong, you’re probably reading this on Sunday - but not before. I had a good night of rest but I went to sleep with a feeling of sadness and uncertainty following last night’s meditation. T the time of writing, yesterday was Friday  May 2012. But what does this date really mean?

Yes, I sometimes lose the sense of time. Whenever that happens, it’s always rather unsettling. Perhaps I’m getting old but should this be happening when I’m still 31? But, I guess that my experience of life is unique to me. Yet, at the same time, my life as a human being shares with you many common realities. The differences that separate me from you, indeed, are mostly artificial and secondary. Our position on Earth exposes us to the same challenges of life. Our needs are similar. The only differences are, in many cases, a result of our own preconceptions and models of how the world works that are fabricated by our minds.

I am still disturbed by what came up during my meditation. I will have to reflect more on its significance. I hope to be able to write an entry or two in the future. Yet, tomorrow I will be changed person as I wake up to a new day. I may not even be here tomorrow. Then, who would have written this? I will be just not here and, honestly, I don’t know where I would be. For tomorrow is only a thought only exists in our minds. It isn’t real in the sense that it is not tangible and, in truth, it is unreal. The only thing I can be sure of is that today I’m still alive and in relatively good health. I don’t know whether I’ll be around tomorrow. Granted, there’s a good probability that I’ll be here. But, still, my knowledge is limited. What tells me that a catastrophic event will hit Earth?

I don’t know. While one may be tempted to live in fear of the end, I have come to realise that death is ultimately our final destination. We may believe there’s an after-life awaiting us but there’s no certainty that another reality beyond this life exists. What I really have is the present moment. Thus, even if I still fail in this, as I grow in mindfulness, the more I have come to appreciate the present moment as a gift that I have been given without really doing anything to deserve it. 

And, whatever the future will bring, I  will try to be open to this unique opportunity to live for another day...  

Endings...

Tomorrow will be the last morning at our summer house. Making the move here on the 1st July was hard. I’ve got to make new arrangements, pack my stuff and start getting used (again) to a different routine. It’s a move our family undertakes every summer. To be honest, when July approaches I know that soon I have to adapt to our summer house with all the good and bad things it brings into my life.

I think that part of me still resists change. Especially when it means sleeping in a room that you know can never be your own. If you live in a place that is only a temporary shelter and, thus, you cannot get yourself to call it a “home”. Then comes the trouble with getting accustomed to a lifestyle that you thought was part of the past. It can be difficult, yes, to push yourself to change and adapt knowing that In a few months you’ll have to unlearn everything and return to your old life.

I suspect that we overlook how much our homes can affect who we are. Of course, it’s not just about the material environment but also about the emotional significance we attach to our homes. For, in reality, much of what makes a home a home and a house a house isn’t the furniture or structure of our residences but the memories that we associate with things and places. In this sense, we endow our homes or houses with qualities that do not exist outside our minds.

As I prepare for my last night in this house, I realise that it’s not only my reluctance to change that was the problem. After all, during my short lifetime, I have had to make changes and adapt to new environments and accept the fact that I may have to be admitted for a number of days at the hospital. In a way, I got to live like a nomad - travelling to our summer house when the weather gets hot and packing for hospital when my body goes on a health strike. Indeed, my reluctance to move was rooted in the days I spent as a child at this house where I had to spend the summer without television or my comforts at home.

In retrospect, it was perhaps in this very house where my oldest brother David died, that I started reflecting on life and own mortality. It was here that I tasted what it’s like to play on the streets with other children around my neighbourhood. It was also here the conservative Catholic priests preaching about sin and how impairment was the product of sin - of human’s disobedience. There was the source of my pain that appeared to erase all the good memories as I wondered whether I had a physical impairment out of divine punishment. It was then that I started to doubt and really ask myself who I was. Put in that light, my childhood negative experiences have helped me to be who I am today.

Yes, this is an ending to a stay that I believed I didn’t want but which now appears I much needed. Tomorrow I should be back at my old home. But I learned a lot after reflecting on my experiences at this summer house. I believed that when it this day would come. I would be free. Yet, there’s a lingering sadness that there is an ending here. On the other hand, I am also reminded of the fact that my life and that of others is very much like a nomadic journey. While I knew when my particular journey will end and start, I still had to prepare for the next trip. The only difference is that life can end at any minute and while it’s good to make plans for the future, we can’t live for the future.

Besides, an ending also marks a new beginning. The beginning of a new life which is in itself always ending and beginning all the time. Perhaps it’s also a good opportunity to start calling my “summer house”, my “summer home”. It’s a change of words, I know, and the building hasn’t changed structurally. But, in some respect, it has changed on a radical level.

In my mind!

10 Years of Fear

There is already a lot of commentary and opinions trying to analyze where we are today following 10 years since the September 11, 2001 attacks. However, as we prepare to honour the many people who lost their lives on that tragic day, I feel it it’s important to ask ourselves whether the world has moved on. In other words, can we say that the planet has become a safer and more peaceful place for us to live in?

Putting aside any political interests, can we truly say that the so-called “war on terror” was real and justified? Undoubtedly, 9/11 caused great loss of life and, indeed, we must remember all those who were killed in the name of an ideology feeding on hate and revenge. But have we thought of the thousands more of equally innocent people whom have been killed in a war against an unknown target?

Don’t we care that much because they don’t belong to our culture, don’t have our values, don’t believe in the same God as we do? Perhaps, we fear, that these people we now label “Arabs” or “Muslims” are a threat to Western civilization which we believe is based on the values of democracy, respect and justice? Does this explain the rise of Islamophobia in the West and the growing popularity of far-right extremism?

Can we reconcile our supposed respect of human rights with the emerging evidence that innocent people might have been tortured and bullied to reveal dubious information about events that took place on 9/11 and to investigate whether there may be new plans to attack? Can we we pride ourselves with the good values we hold while we inflict pain and suffering on the world we never bothered to understand, let alone care for?

Are we comfortable with the fact that some multinational companies are exploiting parts of the world for their rich natural resources to gain profit while the inhabitants are living in a state of hunger and unimaginable poverty and disease? Are we ready keep watching scenes of conflict and violence on our media thinking that this doesn’t affect me? Yet, you meet someone who is different than you, perhaps a Muslim, do you become fearful and suspicious?

Yes, Osama bin Laden was killed. However, it would be naïve to think that this solved the problems that gave rise to 9/11. For horrible as the actions of Al Qaeda may have been, there are still people who have come to the conclusion that terror and violence are the only ways to stop a West, that they perceive is exploiting their lands, killing their people and impoverishing their lives. We who don’t have to deal with a situation where you have to worry about whether you’re going to eat today or how far you need to go in order to get safe drinking water, don’t appreciate that out there people are living a harsh life.

We may avoid thinking about these realities. Indeed, we may not care enough to realize that killing bin Laden, for example, only removed one symptom of a far greater disease. A disease that cannot be cured by medicine and antibiotics. The disease is fear. A malady that is sometimes so strong that it forces us to keep away from anyone or anything which we perceive as a threat. In the name of fear, we close our mind and heart to others who are different while they become mere objects where we project our darker sides. They become the targets of our hate, resentment, insults and violence. As we feed our fears, our victims lose their humanity.

Sadly, unless we don’t recognize that we can no longer go on with our life thinking what happens in other parts of the world isn’t our concern, we will be easy victims for fear and its afflictions. By closing ourselves to the suffering of others, we fail to appreciate the dire situation other people living in the world are living in. Without recognizing that, to some extent, we may have contributed to this situation, we would have learned little from 9/11. If we believe what our fears tell us, we will miss seeing that our similarities with ‘those people’ are much greater than our differences.

Unless we do all that and more, we will remain trapped in an age of fear. An age which doesn’t exist in time but in our minds.

Mental Fission

I confess that before I started writing this blog, I was unsure of what I wanted to achieve or communicate to the outside world. One thing was sure - I sought mental clarity and security.

I had been changed and I hoped to get to terns with this state using the only means I knew or was comfortable with: language. You may prefer the visual arts, drama or music to attain this aim of going beyond yourself to endow an idea, feeling or emotion with physical property.

In this sense, we act like gods by giving an idea a life of its own. Unfortunately, as with the story of Adam and Eve, our creations by taking a life of their own are and will be subject to the effects of space and time. And even in their material form, the objects unto which we project ourselves are just a representation of an inner state.

I want to make all that clear before I even attempt to talk about where I will take you next. I love language a lot but I also know that words can confuse or distort at the same time they appear to resolve and clear our thoughts.

Finally, I must point out that I approach the next post with a degree of trepidation as there are certain doubts about my realisation that linger on. So, I want to be in the right state of mind to proceed further.

Re-Mind-Er

I don't know how to explain what this blog is all about. So, if you find my writing to be unclear or nonsensical, you may be right. Inasmuch as I love to write when I cam, I acknowledge the potential pitfalls our words can lead us to. This is even truer perhaps when we try to capture an emotion or a feeling we have. When we attempt to talk or conceive of thoughts happening in our own minds!

I find that many take our minds for granted. That is, until we develop problems or we are forced to reflect about such things as where our lives are going and, ultimately, on what our purpose in life is. It's true that there may be no real purpose for us being alive and it's all wishful thinking or downright human pride to believe that we have any purpose for living. However, we still seek refuge in an idea or believe to guide us on.

I'm not simply talking abut atheists here, for even a non-believer may have a strong sense of ethics and morality. Rather, I'm talking about the reality of human existence which doesn't emerge in isolation. Inevitably and may be shocking, the fact is that we need other people to define who we are. But you knew that already, didn't you?

And yet, we seem to forget this. Until we are placed in a situation where we encounter a problem or need help. Then we realize that our belief in an autonomous, independent and sells-sufficient persons (we think we are) are only partly true. That our perception of the world is influenced by those who came before us and those in our world. There's no escaping this for even the claims made by some that they are 'unbelievers' is a human construct that has been around since the mythical Eden.

I'm not claiming that our lives are the same or that we can speak of a state of equality between people and nations. This is the unfortunate condition of our world unless we become aware of our common humanity. Our basic vulnerabilities in face of death. And that is partly why we are afraid to die. We are afraid to lose what we have and, worst of all, of losing our own identity. We are scared of being alone in an unknown state.

Yes, it will happen. Are we prepared? Am I prepared?