Subtlety, Intimacy, Motivation III

Is it possible, then, to feel some fundamental/universal human emotion (something very basic and simple) and be true to that feeling or allow its simplicity in a complicated cultural environment? Is our defining capability something like complication or selfishness, or is it possible that complication and selfishness are simply a small area of possibility within a larger creative context? Is it human nature to make life complicated and difficult, or is that simply global cultural history--showing a mere fraction of our potential?

Krishnamurti had a lot to say about simplicity, but I find his writing sometimes hard to read and take in. The same is true with just talking philosophy, so I'll include some story here. When I was working on my master's degree in counseling psychology, we were required to go for 12 hours of personal counseling. We were supposed to choose a therapist and get some counseling so we'd know what it felt like as clients. (My astute friend asked if we also had to take Prozac for six months to see what it is like; we didn't.) I couldn't decide how to find a good therapist, and when I found a therapist, I couldn't figure out what to talk about. Apparently, neither could she. She seemed very able in general, but my various concentration and relaxation techniques were capable of addressing my emotional difficulties at the time. We filled the time with conversation centered on myself, she seemed to give her support to the idea of me becoming a therapist, I paid her for her time, and we finished with very little ostensible benefit to myself. (I was glad to have one more requirement out of the way.) One of the wise women I studied with, when I complained about paying significant fees for minimal returns, asked if I was currently in a relationship. I said no, and she laughed, "You'd be able to figure out what to talk about if you were in a romantic relationship." How true! In some ways, students are so protected, and I further encased myself in my studies by being somewhat antisocial. Of course, relative isolation did seem to fit with studying meditation since the other students didn't seem all that proficient in meditation and most of the meditators I'd met didn't seem all that proficient in psychology and relationships. They often had similar capability in dealing with their emotional problems, so being more subtle or learned concerning applied psychology seemed unnecessary to many of them--they couldn't feel the need for or benefit in more psychology in a way similar to how I couldn't feel much benefit in my own therapy sessions. I'm overgeneralizing, but there seemed to be two major responses to my dilemma of wasting money on poorly timed but required therapy. Psychologists seemed to feel that I simply hadn't found the right therapist, but the woman I saw seemed very able in conventional psychotherapy to me. Meditators seemed to respond that, of course, conventional psychotherapy was not as effective as meditation, so even my passing consistency in meditation practice would naturally be more effective than therapy. Why the different perspectives? It seemed more complicated than need be.

Maybe, in looking for the meditators I actually found, I had gravitated towards those with similar propensities and prejudices to my own. Some forms of meditation (different from my general approach) really emphasize compassion, devotion, emotional awareness and openness, etc. So this yogic method of simply withdrawing one's attention from any bothersome stimuli began to stand out as a very particular technique. Just concentrate on one thing, and nothing else really bothers you. It works in the same way that being alone--compared to being with a woman you can neither live with nor without, compared to being with lots of people jabbering and arguing with one another and making it all worse by trying to be polite (at least, face to face)--is much quieter, which seems much more peaceful. You can be alone in body, physically apart from others, or you can learn to separate your attention from anything you dislike, being attentionally or internally apart. Social separation works; concentration works. And yet, for all of the effectiveness in the methods, something seemed to be missing. (Where's my baby at?)

I certainly was uninterested in becoming more adept at concentrating on being antisocial. But all the drama and hubbub seemed so irrelevant to actually living. I felt like I'd been asking myself just how much I was willing to put up with from other people. Of course, then, in my standard extremist manner, I'd put myself in a program which focused on dealing with very difficult and complex life situations. It all seemed so much more honest when dealing with clients who were truly overwhelmed rather than just the standard sort of social griping--or worse, it's uglier cousin of political opinionating. Sometimes these extremist forms really highlight what we actually want. By complaining about people in general, it allowed me to separate out my idea of myself enough to see how I played into the drama in my own ways. Seeing some of those ways clearly allows one to own those methods and then look for corresponding methods of choosing peace over drama. And having had too much drama makes peace over drama an obvious choice once it can be seen in personally relevant ways. It helps to see how one can change oneself--that is a big part of the relevance. Of course, changing oneself doesn't mean much or last long if others can disregard or override the changes.

So another way of coming at this is to recognize that every human culture has been heavily criticized by some human society. From one perspective or another, every human characteristic has been criticized or discounted by someone. I guess you can't please everyone. What if a perspective could be found which recognizes the value in the characteristics and in the criticism? Ken Wilber has done a nice job on that, even criticizing his own work as he goes (while continuing with the work because it has value as well as imperfections). Given that unfolding perspective, is that actually enough for anyone? Not for me. I will stand with Thich Nhat Hanh and say I want it all. But the perspective helps. It gives us a place from which to ask and answer whether it all needs to be complicated or not. The answer is that the abundance is unavoidable and it does not need to seem complicated in a bad way. (And just as there are many influences that feed into a sense of self, there are many answers that feed into that answer.) The next question is whether or not we want to pursue all human potential or whether, instead, it is better to focus on certain areas. This is where ethics comes in. I believe focus and exclusion of potential is good while exclusion of people is not.