On the quest for a deeper understanding

“Cry out for insight, and ask for understanding.” (Prov. 2:3)

“Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words.” (Romans 8:26)

“A gem cannot be polished without friction, nor a man perfected without trials.” (Seneca)

“When you arise in the morning think of what a privilege it is to be alive, to think, to enjoy, to love.” (Marcus Aurelius)

“At any moment, you have a choice, that either leads you closer to your spirit or further away from it.” (Thich Nhat Hanh)

“The least of things with a meaning is worth more in life than the greatest of things without it.” (Carl Jung)

“The spiritual life does not remove us from the world but leads us deeper into.” (Henri J.M. Nouwen)

“There are years that ask questions and years that answer.” (Zora Neale Hurston)

“Before you call yourself a Christian, Buddhist, Muslim, Hindu or any other theology, learn to be human first.” (Shannon L. Alder)

It is good to make the clear distinction

Source: http://teacherlink.ed.usu.edu/tlnasa/reference/imaginedvd/Files/apod/apod/ap050425.html

When reading ‘spirituality’ literature as it is normally earmarked in libraries and bookstores, it is good to make the clear distinction between the ‘amateur’ and the ‘professional’ author. Especially nowadays when there is a heightened level of suffering and seeking in the world. The amateur will open their heart, furrowed but still beating, to speak something on life’s joyful-sorrows. The professional, on the other hand, has ‘secrets’ and polished merchandise to sell. The first approach takes the reader through the ‘stations of the cross’ as it stumbles and stutters before the great questions which life puts to us. The second approach with its tailor-made answers is as undemanding to write as it can be destructive for the susceptible consumer whose head is filled with unreasonable expectations. Our hearts are not cut stone to be categorised on some ‘zeitgeist’ chart. They are [to paraphrase Algernon Swinburne when he refers to Walt Whitman’s lips], ‘blood-beats of song’. This is why we are especially moved and aided by the experiential spiritual literature which comes out of concentration camps, and prisons, and hospitals. And exile from country.

One of the most powerful deceptions

One of the most powerful deceptions of our increasingly automated world, where people similarly to perishable goods are ‘tagged’ with an expiry date, is the dreadful lie of the easy path to peace and enlightenment. These two ways are invariably sold and marketed together. The truth is much more sobering and gut-wrenching than the professionally generated manual which goes something like: “12 easy steps to realizing the god within and how to make your first Million Dollars at the same time!” Growth can only ever come by way of struggle and tension. It is a gradual formation and development. It can be like an enclosed chrysalis breaking through its hard-outer case. Some contemplatives following in the tradition of the unjustly persecuted 16th century priest Lorenzo Scupoli, have called it “spiritual combat”.[1] Most of us know with even a modicum of life experience behind us, there are no short-cuts to realising peace within our hearts. That is a calmness or a ‘stillness’ which leads to self-awareness: the examination of our thoughts, emotions, and actions.  The soul, that immaterial part of ourselves, needs to declutter and to remove unnecessary things. Increasingly difficult with our almost total immersion into a ‘hot-wired’ world of algorithms and computer-implementable instructions. And yet, we despair not, for all things are possible. The soul is not limited by boundaries nor can it be imprisoned by time: 

“The psyche, in turn, is the openness of human being for the world as a whole in its three-dimensional temporality of past, present and future which the nous within the psyche not only understands in some way, but also with which it resonates in moods of all kinds. It is only because we share this mooded resonance with three-dimensional time that we humans can share music.” (Michael Eldred)

The highest accomplishment to all our realisations

The spiritual quest can at times be ugly and brutal and indeed, on occasion even shocking. Like Christ’s prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane: “And being in anguish, he prayed more earnestly, and his sweat was like drops of blood falling to the ground” (Lk. 22:44). The search for meaning will make serious demands of us, require lots of courage, and ask the hard questions. We will have to face up to our greatest fears. This is the path of understanding our greater purpose in life. Otherwise we will aimlessly drift without focus and be lacking in both compass and discernment. All effort will then become wasted. It would be terrible to die like Márquez’s protagonist character, Santiago Nasar (Chronicle of a Death Foretold), who “died without understanding his death.” To have meaning in our lives, as close as we can reach it [for there will always be questions and doubts], is the highest accomplishment to all our realisations: “Those who have a 'why' to live, can bear with almost any 'how'” (Viktor Frankl). All these realisations give us a better understanding of who we are and what we have been called to become. They contain the fundamentals of ‘who’ I am and the impact of my presence in the world.

What is truly important to us

What is truly important to us? What sacrifices are we willing to make to discover our true identity? Are we connecting with other souls? To what degree can we say that we are living meaningful and productive lives? Are we prepared at any moment to confront death, for in truth, this will reveal how far we have progressed into our journey. This life time pilgrimage of ours which begun with our birth. “Perhaps the deepest reason why we are afraid of death is because we do not know who we are” (The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying). It is not an easy interrogation of the self [“our essential being”]. How detached are we from the ‘tinsel and glitter’ entrapments of the world? We know how easily it is to be influenced, for as Christina Kline has written: “The things that matter stay with you, seep into your skin.” Are we open to revealing our own vulnerability if this means to become a more compassionate human being? These are tough questions. We tend to push and shove them out of the way for when we are ‘ready’. But when exactly is that right time? Our hearts can become so hardened, like the “hardened” heart of Pharaoh (Ex. 7:3), that none of this might matter anymore. We don’t have to be living in a cave or in the desert to contemplate such wonderful things. There is a saying that speaks to this matter and is often heard from the monks of Mount Athos when advising pilgrims: “It is not the place but the Way.” For many this quest, ‘the way’, is to know and to be known by the Creator. For others it is to find their place in the universe. These paths have something manifestly in common: the aching yearning to reach our capacity and the practising of certain disciplines to make sure we have given ourselves every chance in this quest.

For some of us this struggle to realize our potential

For some of us this struggle to realize our potential and come to terms with our “faith seeking understanding” could take years. This should not discourage us. So long as we are building. Anselm knew very well what he was talking about with this fides quarens intellectum. No one can step into the ring to fight this most important of battles for us. We are alone to work our way through ‘the darkness’ when we are called to go through it. The most beautiful of earthly beings, Saint John of the Cross, has called this “the obscure night”. We keep steadfast despite the wounds and fears, till we come across those shards of light which others before us have attested. They have remained resolute that they might also testify. We educated ourselves through our tribulations that meaningfulness, which is our sense of purpose, is something which requires both endurance and contemplation. None of this is imaginary. It is as real as a deep cut to the flesh or the sharp sting of a red pepper on the tongue. “If a man is to live, he must be all alive, body, soul, mind, heart, spirit” (Thomas Merton). In other words, it is the quest to find our best ‘pair of shoes’:

“Sometimes a man can become possessed by a vision. Perhaps it makes no sense to anyone else; perhaps it is a revelation to everyone. Yes, this man will say to himself, this is the way the world is supposed to be. This is how I am supposed to fit into it. He will know, like a man trying on shoes, that he has finally found a pair that will serve him for a very long walk indeed. So he begins, one step at a time.” (Joshua Cooper Ramo)

There are no hidden secrets to peace and enlightenment

There are no hidden secrets to peace and enlightenment. The imaginary storyteller Lionel Suggs has put it very well: “The secrets of the universe aren't really secrets. It's just that humanity is too subjugated by their blissful ignorance to ask the right questions.” If there are any secrets at all, they are evident ones that most of us discern and attempt to put into practice knowing in our hearts that grace is stumbling upon us, rather than the other way around. Gratia urget nos: “grace presses on us”. To be sure, not everyone feels this way, but can we say with an equal amount of certainty, that not everybody even if it’s only been once, has not been confronted with existential dread? This “perpetual oblivion”, as Saint Sophrony Sakharov writes, “as the extinguishing of the light of consciousness”. There is a mystic in each one of us. Who is there who does not believe there are truths to be found which go beyond the intellect? We have all prayed in one form or another, or have been dazzled by the stars, or have wept to music, or have had our spirits compressed by the “prime mover”. The search for peace itself is mystical at its core for we are tapping into a higher state of consciousness, that is, the transcendence of our everyday urges and compulsions.[2] The problem is though these ‘secrets’ are plain enough to see it is difficult to put them into practice, that is, to put them into practice consistently. And that’s okay too. We are, after all, those life-long ‘tapestries’ in the making:

“Our stories make us who we are. And each story has its own purpose and its own reward. Each story rings true and each story is worthy of the ages. There is no such thing as an insignificant life.” (Laurence Overmire)

The connection to the two great virtues

These universal truths, sagacious and sensible lessons, for the greater part established on the practise of detachment and acts of compassion have been freely given to us and put down in writing by the wisdom teachers of our collective spiritual traditions.[3] We will not find these truths, which the habitually misread Nietzsche might call “transformative lessons”, in the post sent to us by some ‘faux guru’. Asking the right questions ‘who am I’ and ‘what am I doing here’ is what remains vital [even if this might simply mean to make more correct decisions than wrong ones], and these questions ordinarily have to do with what can I ‘contribute’ rather than with what can I ‘take away’. Again we discern here the connection to the two great virtues: love and compassion. We might think of this as an ‘affectionate co-suffering’ for salvation, however we might understand it, is never a thing on its own. It is from here which good things will flow for both individual and community.[4] In the Gospel, the Christ himself, understands his mission fundamentally as one of service: “For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many” (Mk. 10:45).

This interplay between the self and the outside

Of course, there is and will be, that ‘right’ moment when it seems the marvellous resolution has at last arrived, but pride would make us blind to the fact that there are strong forces, even on the outside of ourselves, which can influence our decision making. And these can often determine the journey ahead unless we endeavour to take some control like the weathered and experienced sea captain in a storm. This interplay between the self and the outside is like the flesh and sinews which wrap around the bones of the living. Or the thorns which run up and down the stem of a Black Baccara rose. In Buddhist thought it is this clinging onto negative experiences and the desire for temporal things which produces dukkha, suffering or the “unsatisfactoriness” in life.  It is similar to “sin” which in the Greek is hamartia, this literally means: “to miss the mark”. So we do our best to not fold, but to ride the storm out. Humility, remaining modest, will prove to be one of our most loyal friends. This will sometimes mean to surrender, not to give up. Of course not, but to let go of the useless weight that we might be better able to shift our gaze. The numinous Japanese author Haruki Murakami has expressively described these ‘stormy’ trials which come to contest against our spirit and what we might expect:

“Once the storm is over, you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about.”

[1] https://www.amazon.com.au/Spiritual-Combat-Dom-Lorenzo-Scupoli/dp/1783792744

[2] https://blogs.scientificamerican.com/cross-check/what-does-it-feel-like-to-be-enlightened/

[3] https://www.amazon.com/Wisdom-World-Religions-Templeton-2002-03-01/dp/B01FKTL3X8

[4] In the context of Christian theology the end goal of the spiritual life is to “become partakers of the divine nature” (2 Pet. 1:4), which is to participate in God’s divine energy, the overflow of his glory. If this is of interest please see: Panayiotis Nellas, “Deification in Christ: Orthodox Perspectives on the Nature of the Human Person”, (New York: SVS Press, 1987).

The immeasurable value of perspective

“The heart governs the entire bodily organism and reigns over it, and when grace possesses the heart, it governs all the members and all thoughts, for it is in the heart that the intellect is found and all the thoughts of the soul as well as its desires; through its intermediary, grace equally penetrates into all the bodily members.” (Saint Macarius of Egypt)

“Mythology is not a lie, mythology is poetry, it is metaphorical. It has been well said that mythology is the penultimate truth--penultimate because the ultimate cannot be put into words. It is beyond words. Beyond images, beyond that bounding rim of the Buddhist Wheel of Becoming. Mythology pitches the mind beyond that rim, to what can be known but not told.” (Joseph Campbell)

“The metaphor is perhaps one of man’s most fruitful potentialities. Its efficacy verges on magic, and it seems a tool for creation which God forgot inside one of His creatures when He made him.” (José Ortega y Gasset)

“It was books that taught me that the things that tormented me most were the very things that connected me with all the people who were alive, or who had ever been alive.” (James Baldwin)

“Every canvas is a journey all its own.” (Helen Frankenthaler)

In the tradition of Hamlet

In the brooding tradition of Shakespeare’s Prince Hamlet of Denmark, the French writer and Nobel laureate Albert Camus has said that if life is without meaning and purpose, this “feeling of absurdity” he called it, then suicide becomes the only “really serious philosophical problem.” So we must live he concludes, as if our lives have some meaning.[1] But to simply act on this premise, that is, to create a ‘theatre of meaning’ [or of the ‘absurd’], can only end in disaster for eventually this deception will catch up with us to dismantle our every foundation. We cannot hope to convince ourselves that there is some intelligent meaning to Sisyphus pushing his boulder up the mountain to only have it roll back down again. Peace and happiness are not to be found in futility. Augustine in his Confessions describes the heart as “restless” unable to stay still or quiet for we are primarily desiring beings before we are rational. The role of the senses is strong, ears and eyes open to divers input, and so our senses are connected to the movement of the heart which is the seat of our attitude and will. All the great poets have understood the basis of this truth: “I hold a beast, an angel, and a madman in me.” (Dylan Thomas)

The endearing Didi and Gogo

The endearing Vladimir (Didi) and Estragon (Gogo) meet near a “leafless tree” to engage in a series of discussions waiting for the mysterious Godot who never arrives. It all seems so meaningless. They, too, consider suicide. Whether they are to be taken seriously or not is beside the point. But the problem is neither of these characters actually articulates what they want; or what they are looking for; or who Godot actually is. Or even if he ultimately exists. Ennui is at them. Entropy. Apathy. “[t]he boredom of interminable waiting. The entire play, in fact, is made up of attempts to fill the time.”[2] In existential terms, it is not even knowing what you want. It is, as some critics have said, the most successful literature ever written about “nothing”. Nothingness leads to ‘nothing.’ And to the deepest of despair. “Nothing happens. Nobody comes, nobody goes. It's awful.” (Samuel Beckett)

Viktor Frankl and the search for meaning

Throughout history philosophers have postulated different motivational forces behind the lives, acts and decision-making processes of men and women. According to Viktor Frankl this “force” is “man’s search for meaning”.[3] Frankl believes, and he is not alone in his contention [for example Kierkegaard and centuries before him the prophet Jeremiah], that humans are motivated by the "will to meaning". Logotherapy is pursuit of that meaning and particularly in our attitude and response to unavoidable suffering. Logos is the Greek for “reason”. That is, he argues, that human nature is motivated by the search for a life purpose. This contra Nietzsche’s “will to power” as the driving force in humans and against Schopenhauer’s “will to live”, or Freud’s “will to pleasure”. Certainly, it can never be this clear cut for we are much too complicated in our psychosomatic make-up, but there is something universally engaging and trustworthy with Frankl’s discernments. His influential and reflective voice was authenticated having survived the horrors of the holocaust and by his personal experiences of suffering and loss in Nazi concentration camps. Logotherapy proposes that humans have a will to meaning, which signifies that meaning is our primary motivation for living and acting, and allows us to endure pain and suffering:

“The ultimate meaning necessarily exceeds and surpasses the finite intellectual capacities of man; in logotherapy, we speak in this context of a super-meaning. What is demanded of man is not, as some existential philosophers teach, to endure the meaningless of life, but rather to bear his incapacity to grasp its unconditional meaningfulness in rational terms. Logos is deeper than logic.”

How many great symphonies have not been written

Source: “Ascent” - Jacob’s Ladder https://www.chabad.org/blogs/blog_cdo/aid/3787024/jewish/Ascent-Jacobs-Ladder.htm

Sometimes we are scared to approach that which we believe to be beyond us, like a grand challenge which will push us to our limits, or terrified of declaring our love lest we be rejected. Perhaps worse still saying we are sorry or admitting to our mistakes. It has been asked how many great symphonies have not been written because composers were reluctant to compose their own Ninth. The ‘curse of the Ninth’ they call it, for the fear of comparison with Beethoven’s ‘Choral’ masterpiece.[4] We need to be climbing our ladder, built to our own unique height and measure, climbing it to our greater potential. Not to be afraid at what revelation we encounter at the top. Jacob would not have encountered the Divine had he not dared to go up the “stairway” to hear these tremendous words from his Maker: “I am with you and will watch over you wherever you go, and I will bring you back to this land. I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised you” (Gen. 28:10-15). Rainer Maria Rilke many centuries later could summarize this disclosure thus: “The purpose of life is to be defeated by greater and greater things.”

The desire for fame is one of the gravest dangers to the soul

The desire for fame is one of the gravest dangers to the soul. Few things are as corrosive to the self. Not many have been able to withstand its contagion. It is wanting to be adulated, to rise above the rest, together with the sense of power it delivers. It is one reason why the holy bishops of the past would flee into the desert when news of their elevation would reach them. This narcissistic aspiration, for human beings are not made to bear such adoration, goes back to the darkest but once the most beautiful of all the angels, Lucifer [“the morning star”]. Did he not want the glory properly belonging to the Creator alone? “For you have said in your heart: ‘I will ascend into heaven, I will exalt my throne above the stars of God’” (Is. 14:13). This is a sobering lesson, in whatever way we might want to understand this story, for when we do battle against the desire to be our own ‘kings’, to place our own selves on the ‘thrones’ of our hearts. See here what the marvellous Rumi writes of fame which he has termed the “dragon’s jaw”:

“Many have a talent that urges them/ to seek fame for themselves,/ but in truth it only leads them to disaster./ If you want to save your own head,/ humble yourself like a foot,/ and put yourself under the protection/ of someone rooted in spiritual discernment./Even if you are a king, don’t put yourself above him/. Even if you are honey,/ gather up his rough sugar./ Your own ideas are merely shells,/ his are the soul of thought./ Your coins are false,/ his are the purest gold./ You are really he,/ but seek yourself in him./ Cool like a dove, flying toward him./ And if you cannot bring yourself to serve,/ know you are in the dragon’s jaw.”

Transformation, sometimes used for the metamorphosis

Transformation, sometimes used for the metamorphosis of the life cycle of an animal, will not happen overnight, or with ‘warm feelings’ which could last for an hour. It will be a long and testing journey. It will take much spiritual labour and lots of patience. It is good to remember when things get difficult, as they undoubtedly will, that it is temperature shock which hardens steel and that it is intense heat which changes molecular structure. Change can hurt, and it will often hurt a lot, but it will make the difference. Franz Kafka who was fascinated with ‘transformation’ considered “patience” very high on the list of virtues. Conversion is only the beginning. It took Christ an eternity to reveal his glory to his creation, “where his face shone like the sun” at his Transfiguration (Matt. 17:1f.).[5] It can take time for the grace of God to fall, like new colours which are created with the passing of the years on natural landscapes. Sometimes it can be like breaking your knuckles on steel or smoothing your heart on a piece of pumice stone. We are for now, where we are meant to be: “Then Peter answered and said to Jesus, “Lord, it is good for us to be here…”. (Matt. 17:4)

And forewarn the builders of our new technologies

Secreted behind the words below rest some of the greatest truths expressed in world literature. As many times as we might read these paragraphs neither their beauty nor their sting are diminished. They inspire the wise, humble the knowledgeable, and forewarn the builders of our new technologies. Especially in the last lines of this quote from Anton Chekhov’s short story “The Bet” (1889),[6] the universally celebrated Russian playwright and short fiction writer [via ‘the mouth’ of his young lawyer protagonist] could have been an Old Testament prophet looking ahead at the technological innovations of the 21st century:

“I have spent fifteen years making a careful study of life on earth. True, I haven’t seen anything of the earth, of people, but in your books I have drunk fragrant wine, sung songs, hunted deer and wild boar in forests, love women… Beautiful creatures as ethereal as clouds created by the magic of your great poets have visited me at night and whispered marvellous tales in my ears, making my head reel. In your books I have scaled the summits of Elbruz and Mont Blanc and from them I have seen the lightning flash above me and cleave the clouds. I have seen green forests, fields, rivers, lakes, towns. I have heard the sirens sing and the music of shepherds’ pipes. I have touched the wings of beautiful demons who flew down to talk to me about God. In your books I have hurled myself into bottomless abysses, wrought miracles, murdered, burnt cities, preached new religions, conquered entire kingdoms.

Your books have given me wisdom. Everything that man’s indefatigable mind has created over the centuries is compressed into a tiny lump inside my skull. I know that I’m cleverer than the lot of you.

And I despise your books. I despise all the blessings of this world, all its wisdom. Everything is worthless, transient, illusory, and as deceptive as a mirage. You may be proud, wise and handsome, but death will wipe you from the face of the earth, together with the mice under the floorboards. And your posterity, your history, your immortal geniuses will freeze or be reduced to ashes, along with the terrestrial globe. You’ve lost all reason and are on the wrong path. You mistake lies for the truth and ugliness for beauty. You’d be surprised if apple and orange trees suddenly started producing frogs and lizards instead of fruit, or if roses smelt of sweaty horses. I’m amazed at people who have exchanged heaven for earth. I just don’t want to understand you.” (Anton Chekhov, The Bet)

Perspective meaning ‘through’ and ‘to look at’

Homer’s first epic poem Margites exists only in a few scattered mentions; the biblical book “Book of the Wars of the Lord” of which no copy survives is lost forever but for its reference in Numbers (Num. 21:14); at least one third of Aristotle’s works are lost; the great Library of Alexandria was burned down twice; 80 per cent of Leonardo da Vinci’s manuscript books lost; Lord Byron’s two volumes of memoirs were burnt; Hamlet’s predecessor the ‘Ur-Hamlet’ by Thomas Kyd lost; Ted Hughes destroyed the last writings of Sylvia Plath; almost everything Hemingway wrote to 1922 was lost in a trunk somewhere in Europe; Kafka’s love letters to Dora Diamant and other irreplaceable literature destroyed and/or burnt by the Nazis. This is a symbolic list of one which could continue for volumes.  Perspective [meaning ‘through’ and ‘to look at’] has always been one the most important keys to the acceptance of the unfolding of our individual stories. Margaret Atwood has put it characteristically well when she says without perspective we live with our faces "squashed up against a wall". Loss does not mean not moving forwards. And it never means to stop creating. Sometimes, too, we need to ‘lose’ our life in order to find it: “Whoever finds their life will lose it, and whoever loses their life for my sake will find it” (Matt. 10:39).

[1] https://www.philosophytalk.org/blog/camus-and-absurdity

[2] https://www.bl.uk/20th-century-literature/articles/an-introduction-to-waiting-for-godot

[3] https://www.amazon.com.au/Mans-Search-Meaning-Viktor-Frankl/dp/080701429X

[4] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t4N5-OALObk

[5] https://orthodoxwiki.org/Transfiguration

[6] https://www.indianfolk.com/130-years-bet-anton-chekhov/