East West Wisdoms

We all have elements of narcissism – otherwise known as self-centred preoccupation and blindness to others – but is this a necessary defence against the hazards of life or is it the prime delusion that causes our suffering?

In Western psychotherapy these days the common emphasis is on strengthening self esteem and the evaluating ego. A strong ego has sufficient confidence not to be preoccupied with defending itself and can therefore develop interest, empathy and compassion for others. Another psychological ethic is to be non-judgemental. The client is ‘always right’. These professional ethics have been a necessary counter-balance to widespread discrimination based on religion, class, ethnicity, age and gender.

However, there is a risk that the psychotherapeutic relationship that focusses exclusively on the preoccupations, hopes, fears and desires of one person – the client – without the more usual reciprocity involved in social life, can encourage narcissistic tendencies if the therapist does not skilfully check for positive values congruence and probe for the consequences on others of the client’s actions and aspirations. While it is not for us (as therapists) to judge, it is our role to increase the client’s awareness of the bigger picture that surrounds them.

It is only when we appear as entirely self-centred that we are called narcissistic. Significantly, a strong narcissistic defence system appears to accompany much mental illness and consequently has supported the idea that it is indeed a defence triggered by poor attachment to the initial main caregiver or by intrusive, neglectful or abusive conditions in early childhood. “What narcissistic people all have in common is an inner sense and  terror of insufficiency, shame, weakness and inferiority… “Their compensatory behaviours might diverge greatly, yet they still reveal similar preoccupations” (Nancy McWilliams, 1994). Or, as Sydney-based, Jungian analyst, Neville Symington, describes in his book ‘Narcissism’: “the hated, vulnerable, dangerous state of being a child at the mercy of others is repudiated and the false, grandiose adult self, which is actually a caricature, is created” (Symington 1993).

A Nepalese image of the many masks, or personae, we adopt

Symington’s description of the false, grandiose self as a caricature fits the Buddhist perception that all ideas of ourselves as separate, independent entities are a socially constructed fiction that have no substantial basis. Well, perhaps ‘fiction’ is a bit strong.

Essentially, the Buddhist teaching is that the nature of existence has two simultaneous faces: relative truth and absolute truth. In other words, we – and all that we observe – appear as separate but are actually interdependent with all that is and are therefore empty of separate existence. We experience the ego – and our sense of self – as a stream of thoughts, constantly judging and conceptualising what we see, hear, smell, taste or touch. There is a strong tendency for us to believe that this stream of thoughts is proof of “me”. However, when examined and analysed carefully, these same thoughts and feelings have been observed to be constantly changing (impermanent), impossible to separate from other (also impermanent) phenomena and are therefore empty of separate existence.

This conceptualising in our thoughts consequently overlays the perceived objects of our senses with learned associations that separate experience into subject (our sense of self) and object (everything else). These learned associations are always based on the past and are therefore likely to distort present appearances with what we often call negative or positive conditioning taught by our culture, previous experience and adopted belief systems.

This process is often easy to see when one travels to a new and very different culture with a different language and customs. The food considered desirable – and the reasons for this desirability – may seem very undesirable to us. The examples of eye balls, animals’ testicles and live witchety grubs come to mind! In some cultures dogs are seen as pets and valued human companions, while in others they are seen as food. There are, of course, many other examples of numerous different interpretations of what might empirically be observed as the same object.

The distorting effect of our conceptualising may seem a long way from the question of narcissism as a defence or a delusion. However, placing ourselves at the centre of the world – where ‘me’ always comes first is both narcissistic and explained in Buddhadharma as the grand delusion responsible for all our suffering. By continually focussing on our desires and fears, including the desire for life, we are trying to hold onto, or avoid, that which is constantly changing and impossible to control. The result is, at best, disappointment or frustration and, at worst, leads to hate, fear, insatiable greed and jealousy. And this is called suffering!

Narcissism is but a concept and, like all conceptualising, narcissistic interpretations and projections form a screen that separates and distorts the nature of reality. The concept of anatta – no self – in Buddhadharma is another concept but also a central Buddhist doctrine that is very complex and takes a lot of testing before it is fully understood.

Today I am offering only a little taste of these concepts of no separate self, versus narcissistic self-preoccupation, as an introduction to the three days of teaching I will be giving in Melbourne on February 24, 25 and 26 on behalf of Sophia College. Even this three days will only be a slightly larger taste of this central Buddhist teaching. If you are interested in this teaching, you can go to Sophia College’s website at http://Sophiacollege.com or ring 08 9726 1505.

Wishing you all well and happy,

Jacqui

We all know that Christmas is a time for giving and receiving but, unfortunately, for some this expectation is a burden or a prompt to contemplate the absence of  loved ones and the sort of friends you feel drawn  to exchange gifts with. Like many of you, I have friends who find Christmas a particularly challenging and potentially painful event as it highlights lost close relationships or the absence of a loving family to spend time with.

I started writing this blog in the week before Christmas  but unfortunately got diverted and Christmas day has now passed. However, the Christmas holiday period will be with us for quite a while yet and, anyway, the time for focussing on giving and receiving should never be limited. It is just that in every culture certain times or events are particularly strongly associated with celebration and gift giving.

So thinking of those people for whom Christmas evokes a sense of loss or painful lack, I am moved to share this sticky teaching on “the greatest gift you can give is your interest”.  My precious teacher, Namgyal Rinpoche, who introduced and guided me in Buddhadharma for many years before he died, frequently spoke about generosity of heart and the power of giving undivided attention, permeated by loving kindness.

Personification of generous attention

A warm smile to friend or stranger transfers the gift of love and warms the heart of giver and receiver. Paying attention to whoever is in front of us simultaneously honours their uniqueness and our interdependence. It transforms the hypnotic spell of isolation that mesmerises many of us. Even modern science now talks about how mirror neurons in our brains transfer emotional states from one to the other. We do not have to be in a close relationship for these mirror neurons to do their mirroring work! The genuine warm smile to the young man at the supermarket checkout can still lift his spirits through this mirroring process, even though the shopkeeper’s automatic enquiry, “how are you today?” fails to transfer a sense of connection because it feels repetitive and phoney. The interest behind the question is often absent.

Back to Christmas and the long tradition of gift giving to mark the birth of Christ. I hear many critiques today of the consumerising of this Christian feast day and the diminishing of traditional spiritual meaning. If one is not a regular church-goer – and even if one does attend church regularly – one way we can counterbalance the dominant materialist interpretation of celebratory gift giving is to determine that, around this holiday period, we will focus on giving our full attention to whoever is in front of us and to imbue this attention with loving kindness and the wish for them to experience love, peace and contentment.

Innocent attention; background contentment

The beauty of giving the gift of interest is that one does not need to have a loving family or group of friends in order to practice this kind of generosity. One does not have to be clever, witty, funny or even have an interesting story to tell. Every single one of us has the capacity to give our interest and to wish others well. And when we are really present to the other we break the spell of perceived isolation and encourage awareness of our interdependence and the power of love.

It never ceases to amaze me how we live our lives shrouded by several layers of veils! We think we know the assumptions that are guiding our actions but, so often, we don’t. The veils shield them from our view. And then, one day, a wise being gently prods one of these veils, saying something like: “I think there’s something underneath your question that is niggling you”. And this riddle gets you thinking.

And so it was for me, a short while ago while I was on retreat. I was finding myself conflicted over my loyalty to a particularly ornate, daily, tantric Vajrayana practice given to me in a Tibetan Buddhist empowerment several years ago. Specifically, I was struggling to relate to some of the language and symbols in the meditative visualisation that appeared to belong to an ancient and alien culture. As part of the conflict, I was drawn to spend more time ‘just sitting’, mindfully watching experience unfolding in the present moment. So it was no coincidence that I chose this retreat, organised around Anapanasati, or mindful breath meditation.

Many paths or just one right way?

Another aspect fuelling my uneasiness with this particular Tibetan Buddhist meditation that I had undertaken to practice daily was that, for some years now, I have been noticing and holding question over the wide range of spiritual beliefs and practices that are so fervently believed in by us humans. Whether these are based on belief in one God, many gods or no god, there is evidence that many people are prepared to give up their freedom, be killed (or kill the unbeliever) in defence of their belief. There is evidence that great wisdom and compassion, or blind prejudice and persecution, can accompany these many disparate religious explanations about the human condition and the world we live in.

So if there are many paths to the same place of wisdom and compassion, why is it that many of us are so determined to find the ‘right’ path? Thankfully, in many parts of the world, there is now more religious tolerance – and even respect – of different religions and spiritual paths.

The veils of ignorance

My conflict and question about ‘the right path’ is at a much more subtle level than an overt belief that there is only one right way. Intellectually, and from a values perspective of inclusiveness and respect for difference, I was unaware that I was seeking a ‘right’ way when I expressed my doubt about practicing this particular daily meditation. So we’re back to the veils that cover the assumptions that drive us!

When I looked deeply (in a meditation session) at what was behind my uneasiness, I was truly surprised to discover a hidden assumption of only one right way. One spiritual truth. One set of best spiritual practices. As I followed the trail, I found that it led back to my childhood and early youth, immersed  in the Catholic faith. This teaching of exclusive righteousness was backed up by the threat that to disobey or leave this religion landed you in hell! Ironically, one of my overt criticisms of Catholicism – once into my teens and now – is their claim to being the only ‘true’ (or right) faith. Ah ha! What a shock to discover that this piece of religious indoctrination was, at a very deep level, secretly guiding my present spiritual practice.

The light of awareness liberates!

Sunrise brings a new view

The interesting thing is that, like all insight, once seen, the hidden assumption dissolves under the light of awareness. It has also been interesting to observe how the demise of this assumption dissolved the spiritual conflict I was experiencing. In its place I have found myself free to blend a form of the traditional Tibetan Buddhist practice with mindfulness practice, uncluttered by alien cultural forms. I am no longer frightened to improvise. The unseen threat of damnation or excommunication is gone.

I am sharing this particular experience with you as I am aware that many of my peers who identify with Tibetan Buddhist teachings and practices, grew up under the Catholic umbrella and were, like me, spiritually conditioned by Catholic views at a vulnerable age.

Can any of you relate to this experience of discovering hidden religious assumptions, laid down in childhood, that have covertly ‘muddied the waters’ of current spiritual practice? I’d love to hear about them.

Warm wishes,

Jacqui

I am writing to you from Queensland where 70% of the State is severely effected by our recent torrential rains and overflowing rivers and dams. While many thousands of people throughout much of Queensland and northern New South Wales have had to abandon their houses and businesses to the flood waters, I feel so fortunate to have a relatively dry and waterproof house, situated on a high hillside that allows the water to rush past, rather than into our house.

And so the question arises, how can we help those afflicted by the devastating destruction, damage and losses of life, livelihood and property? Of course we can and should give money to aid the recovery process. However it is equally obvious that this incredible flooding has huge social and spiritual implications, as well as the obvious material losses. I feel that each of us – wherever we are in the world when we hear of this and other disasters – can help in a powerful way by opening our hearts and practicing some form of the traditional Buddhist Tonglen practice: a practice of taking in suffering and giving out love and relief from suffering.

This Tonglen practice of opening our hearts to take in the suffering of others can take many forms and the essence idea can be done as one goes about one’s ordinary life, washing dishes, cooking, cleaning and watching the TV news as it shows pictures of the destruction and reports on the developing situation as the consequences of the continuing rain and flooding rivers flow south through Australia.

Essentially, the idea is to feel one’s heart open and pure (perhaps filled with light) and then draw into this clear, open heart space the fear, grief, despair and concerns of the many, many people suffering from the effects of this particular natural disaster. Feel their suffering – in whatever forms that come to mind – as black smoke and see that as the smoke of their suffering is drawn through your heart space it is transformed into white light that returns to fill their hearts and bodies. I generally choose certain values – such as determination, confidence, patience, endurance, peace, compassion and wisdom – to also permeate this light and fill their being. This practice can be done many times a day, in your own particular way, but always focussing on your open heart and the sending of your mind gifts as you  connect with those whom you know to be in need.

For those of you who are familiar with formal meditation practice, here is one particular version of Tonglen practice that you may like to practice, or draw from, in a meditation session targeted at the flood victims. You will note that it begins with clearing your own being before moving on to addressing the suffering of your loved ones and those you have difficulty with. At times such as these when there is a major disaster triggering your compassionate response, I generally choose to begin with clearing my being and then move straight to those beings I am concerned about.

Tonglen practice

First, establish yourself as a being of light.
Second, feel the stickiness and darkness of the particular negativity or form of suffering you are addressing in yourself or others and exchange it with the cool, soothing light of love, joy and wisdom in your heart.
Third, project a mirror image of yourself, also as a being of light, but covered in dark blotches of unhelpful emotions – negativities of mind.
Fourth, breath in the negativities of your mirror image in the form of black smoke and filter this through the sun of your Buddha nature [essential purity of being], returning as the golden light of love, joy and peace.
Fifth, do the same  with your loved ones [or anyone you are concerned about and want to help].
Sixth, do the same with someone you have, or have had, difficulty or conflict with,  or groups of people [such as those who are perceived as enemies] whom you perceive to have hurt or threatened you or your loved ones.
Seventh, finish by seeing the objects of your meditation as surrounded by your family, friends and all beings. Breath in their suffering, seeing it transformed in your heart as you breath out love, peace, joy and wisdom [or the particular qualities you feel would be of most benefit].

A further enhancement to this practice would be to begin with the visualisation below, to help you feel yourself as a being of light.

Transforming to a being of light

Imagine a ball of light – all the colours of the rainbow – above your head.
Feel it massaging your head and body, turn first your head and then, one by one, all the organs and limbs of your body to light.
Feel the ball of light running down your spine and chest; up and down your legs; over your shoulders and down your arms, massaging your hands and turning them to light.
Stomach, liver, spleen, kidneys, bowels, intestines, lungs, heart, glands, brain – all turned to light.
You are a being of light with the sun of your true, pure nature shining brightly at your heart centre.

Then proceed with the Tonglen practice described above.

I hope you can draw something from this practice that will help you feel connected in a compassionate, loving way to the many people you are witnessing – through the media or directly – as suffering severe loss, discomfort and uncertainty through the destruction of rain and floodwaters.

If you wish to add any further suggestions of how to help, or any reflections on this natural disaster we are all witnessing, directly or indirectly, these would be much appreciated.

With warm wishes,

Jacqui

Just back from Kathmandu and the mountains of Nepal. Soaking up another culture and navigating a drastically different environment is the best mind-opener I know! Sure, one’s first reactions to the unfamiliar may be peppered with criticism but the wonder of a whole new battery of sensory input – smells, sounds, tastes, sights and ideas – is so exciting, invigorating and supportive of new learning.  Out of the smorgasbord of exhilarating experience, there are two particular learnings I would like to share.

Nutriment for mind and body

The first reflection I would like to share is the rich nurturing experienced during a ten day retreat on “Seven Point Mind Training” at the International Buddhist Academy in Kathmandu, run by the Sakya school of Buddhism. The mind was bathed in the teachings of compassion, wisdom and samadhi (concentration leading to clarity and calm). The body was fed delicious foods and sweet, warm tea and the bodymind luxuriated in the company of local monks and people gathered from all around the world. As the seventh point of mind training points out:

“All active meditation is done in one way”. The instructional note added by Jamgon Kongtrul clarifies this to mean: “Continue practice into everyday life with a single meditation, always keeping in mind the intention to help others in all activities, eating, dressing, sleeping, walking, or sitting.”

As the retreat was not silent and encouraged some social mixing at meal times and tea breaks, there was opportunity to help others in different ways. Indeed, the simple instruction to not only help others but always be directed by the intention of supporting genuine happiness (based on the removal of ignorance and delusion), rather than temporary sensory pleasure, is one of the sticky teachings I have added to my special collection!

The sweet pleasure of sharing this learning space with my 22 y.o. daughter, Pippa, her friend, Mandi, and my husband, Alan, was a very special treat. The delight of sharing an adult daughter’s enthusiasm for the spiritual teachings that you hold most precious is a gift indeed!

The nearby inspiration of Boudanath peace stupa

Simultaneous pain and joy

The second significant experience I would like to share relates to the blending of pain and joy. Even when first considering whether my damaged spine could manage some trekking in the mountains of Nepal, I knew that pain would be involved. And indeed it was! If I’m lucky I may get the first ten minutes or so free of the complaints of pinched nerves. However, the call of the mountains was too strong to put aside. Recognising the current weakness and need of this particular body, we planned to help it out by employing a porter to carry our packs and we took the shortcut of flying to Jomsom at 2500m before we began walking. A further strategy was to stay for four and six nights, respectively, in two villages (Kagbeni and Jharkot) and therefore only have two long walks and many short walks doing little explorations of the village and surrounding countryside.

Mountains and caves

What was most interesting about my walking experience was noticing that physical pain could often be witnessed as a companion to be acknowledged and accepted while simultaneously experiencing exhilaration and joyous wonder at the dramatic beauty of the environment. Many times I gently turned down invitations to feel sorry for myself or  to wish the pain away. I would remind myself that ‘this is how it is’ and I have chosen to be here. Renewed attention to Chenrezig’s mantra and the sending of love and light to the six realms of existence gave significant support and satisfaction.  It was only when the body insisted – with an extra sharpness – that I would stop and crouch or sit, to relieve the pressure and free the caught nerve.  There was an extra sweetness as pain faded and was replaced by a sense of boundless good fortune to BE HERE in such spaciousness! I found that by staying in the present and giving no attention to the past or probable future pain, suffering was minimised.

Resting between Jharkot & Muktinath

It would, of course, get harder towards the end of each of the longer walks but the great satisfaction that most trekkers experience on the final arrival was for me interpreted as a sense of “I have paid my dues in pain, rather than by covering great distances!” Towards the end of our time in the mountains, I estimated that as I walked, my body was split 50/50,with half sharply complaining and half rejoicing! I gave more attention to the happy half. Perhaps this is similar for many trekkers when they push themselves through states of exhaustion. In any event, my experience is that acceptance of what ‘is’ and staying in the present, moment to moment, really does work in reducing suffering.

I couldn't quite keep the pace of these mules, passing us on the trail!

As we were walking in September, towards the tail end of the monsoon, we only got brief glimpses of snowy mountain tops. However, by the end of the month, the clouds and rain began to clear. We were in Pokhara when we woke one morning to see the surrounding, high snow-capped mountains in all their splendour. We deferred our early morning meditation and took a taxi up to Sarangkot, a village perched on the top of a hill above Lakeside, Pokhara, and from there we were graced with the splendour of the Annapurna Range.

The Annapurna range viewed from Sarangkot

I can’t finish this blog of my recent visit to Nepal without sharing a couple of pictures of the gorgeous interiors of the many gompas we visited. It was so good to to go inside and just sit, quietly marvelling at the colour and exquisite images. Beauty and reverence combined to support calm and devotion.

Sakya Gompa, Kagbeni

Buddha, Muktinath

And so, finally, any comments from you on how you have lived well with pain? Any stories of travel, struggle and reward you would like to share?

With warm wishes,

Jacqui

There are days when it all changes. Suddenly a new view is born! So there I was, basking in the sun and lazily contemplating a bird in the tree a little way from me. As I was enjoying its song and antics as it searched for food, I suddenly realised that the bird’s perception of its environment and my perception were completely different. If it had eyeballed me, as I was eyeballing it, it would have perceived something quite different to my view of my body and the environment we were sharing.

Its bird consciousness, different to my human consciousness, would have been almost unimaginably different. What does a small bird see with its eye consciousness? If food, mating and danger are its prime preoccupations, how are the vision, hearing, tasting, touching and smelling (if birds can smell) consciousnesses shaped to meet its particular needs?

And what are the mental perceptions facilitated by a bird’s brain? Perhaps it is with regard to the feeling states of pleasant, unpleasant and neutral that we would experience most commonality? The commonality might be in the pleasant, unpleasant or neutral sensation, rather than the object eliciting such a reaction. I rather think that the bird’s reactive feeling state to the taste of a juicy worm might be a bit different to mine! And then, again, it might not show the same interest as me in my cup of tea!

I can imagine that the bird’s view of the tree in which it moves, and the leaves surrounding it, might have infinitely more detail than I perceive. No doubt a biologist would have a more accurate opinion on some of the aspects of bird consciousness, perception, feeling, predispositions and form, but it is not scientific differences that I am exploring here.

Similarly, the biologist, or the farmer, might have a different view of the cow I see peacefully grazing, or the wallaby and joey grazing just below the deck. Certainly, the cow and the wallaby are experiencing their surroundings, and their beingness, in their own particular way that bears no resemblance to what I perceive.

My interest is in the sudden ‘knowing’ I experienced as I recognised the uniqueness and fleeting nature of my view. This view I am attempting to describe was not, in fact, ‘my’ view. What was most striking about the shift in perception was that ‘I’ was no longer centre stage. There was a deep, embodied recognition that the habit of viewing ‘the other’ in relation to ‘me’ was just a habit. What’s more, it was a habit that supported the illusion of me as a separate self, perceiving everything else as separate entities.

However, we are but a perception in the mind of the perceiver! And all perceivers, whether of the same or different species, will perceive the apparent ‘object’ (maybe me!) differently. Not only does each being perceive differently, shaped by the peculiar characteristics of their sense consciousnesses, their particular bodily form and abilities, plus the influence of their environment in all its splendid complexity, but the object of its perception will be impermanent, interdependent with the causes of its beingness: an unbroken chain of cause and effect. With no beginning and no end, what we habitually perceive as separate beings are, in fact, interdependent and  empty of inherent existence! Not only will the object of perception be empty, the perceiver, too, has no separate, inherent existence.

I, too, am but a fleeting manifestation of a succession of impermanent perceptions as my sense consciousnesses react to the ever-changing flow of phenomena, all born of preceding causes that have no beginning and no end. So I, too, like all that I perceive, am empty of separate,inherent existence.

Wow! And all this from watching a bird and realising how its perception of me (if it saw me at all) would be different in every respect.

Have you any similar experiences to share? Times of insight when ‘reality’ changes? I’d love to hear them…

Warm wishes,

Jacqui

I have recently found myself musing about the amazing power of belief, particularly belief in a religion or guiding philosophy of life. Freud, for example, wondered at how men willingly die to “protect a scrap of cloth” (their country’s flag). We are called to sign up to fight for “God, King and Country” and ‘God’ is always presumed to be on our side!

History is full of wars fought in the name of God, or Allah or Jehovah and countless beings have died or been maimed for the rest of their lives from the violent effects, or results, of the wars fought in the name of a spiritual belief in a being (God) that cannot be observed with the senses. At the simplest level, God or Allah is a belief based entirely on faith in the word, or instruction, of authority figures. By contrast, the Buddhist explanation of karma (the moment-to-moment action and motivation of beings) as the force creating our worlds can be tested by careful observation.

Again, Freud comes to mind with his belief that God is a projection of the human ‘father’, or head of the family and Marx is renowned for his pronouncement that “religion is the opiate of the masses!” On a more personal level, two recent experiences have triggered my present contemplations on the power of belief.

‘Always trust that God knows best…’

The first experience was watching a movie on TV titled “Though None Go With Me”. Very briefly, the movie was structured around a Christian woman, the two men she loved and the nature of that love and how it was tested by life’s vicissitudes as she developed from an independent, ‘hungry for life’, young woman to an older woman in her 60s, respected by her church community for her generosity and service to those in need. Apart from enjoying the romantic and biographical nature of the movie, what really struck me was how she attributed all the deaths, losses and difficulties of her life to God’s will and action.

Again and again I wondered at what appeared to me as a projected responsibility for her suffering onto an all-powerful God figure. As one loss after another tested her faith in the God she felt responsible for her suffering, the advised solution to her distress was to distract herself from the pain by making herself busy. Fortunately for herself and those around her, this busyness involved helping others. The satisfaction she felt from doing this was again attributed to God’s generosity and love, rather than her own generous and loving actions.

From a Buddhist perspective, the shifting of focus from oneself to helping and attending to others is indeed put forward as a way out of suffering but the explanation for its effectiveness in reducing suffering is different to the Christian explanation. My understanding is that our deluded belief in our separateness  (each of us perceived as a separate entity) and the consequent expectation of an ongoing stability of existence – rather than constant change – are the prime sources of our suffering. The ‘refuge’ idea that supports us when life is difficult is an understanding of interbeingness: the dependent arising and impermanence of all phenomena, rather than a dependence on an all-powerful benevolent or avenging God-figure. By regularly contemplating the inevitability of change, death, impermanence and interbeingness, it seems easier to me to accept losses, illness and death than it would if I were to still believe in an all-powerful God that was arranging these experiences for me.

Thinking of ‘caged virgins!’

The second prompt to deeply contemplate the power of belief came in the form of the international bestseller, ‘The Caged Virgin‘ in which Ayaan Hirsi Ali, a Muslim, appeals to the West to save women from her religion’s hostility towards women, including the migrant and refugee women living in communities in the West. This book (which I have listed under recommended reading if you wish to buy it) comes before her moving memoir, ‘Infidel‘, in which she records and interprets the first few decades of her life  in which she was indoctrinated as a ‘true believer’ in the Islamic faith, that is until she discovered freedom of thought and action in the Netherlands. I was so moved by her story that I chose Infidel as one of the first books to review on this website. Her outspoken criticism of the Islamic faith she grew up with has resulted in death threats and rejection by her clan and close family. As an outspoken campaigner and a member of the Dutch parliament, the threats to her safety (at the time of writing Infidel) were deemed sufficiently serious by Dutch authorities to necessitate personal police protection and for a period she had to ‘hide out’ in the U.S.

She argues that “the Islamic faith lends itself more than any other to the preservation of premodern customs and traditions. For  in Islam, culture and religion are very closely connected, and verses from the Koran legitimize many practices that – in the eyes of Westerners – are unacceptable” (Hirsi, p.44). Reading this book, I am again horrified at the enslavement of Islamic women, justified by the belief that women are responsible for evoking sexual desire in men, rather than men being responsible for their actions and management of sexual desire.

Women are believed to be essentially the property of first the father, and then the husband. If she is perceived as shaming the family by breaking any of the many dress and behaviour rules that bind her, her father, husband or brothers may beat her, lock her up or even kill her! Again and again, Ayaan Hirsi Ali traces the endemic violence against women to Muhammad and the Koran. She points out how “even the victims of physical abuse themselves cite the Koran to justify the violent actions of the men, and often return to their husbands, promising they will be more obedient and improve their behaviour in the future” (p. 154).

It appears that, as in the Christian faith, ultimate responsibility for the affairs of Islamic men and women is seen to lie with the all-powerful God, or Allah,  and that all behaviour must comply with his rules, as interpreted by the Prophet Muhammad and the Imams. Punishment will be carried out in the name of God but according to the interests of the men who claim to act on his behalf. As Ayaan Hirsi Ali concludes near the end of ‘The Caged Virgin“, “the first victims of Muhammad are the minds of Muslims themselves. They are imprisoned in the fear of hell and so also fear the very natural pursuit of life, liberty, and happiness… The present-day attitude of Western cultural relativists, who flinch from criticizing Muhammad for fear of offending Muslims, allow Western Muslims to hide from reviewing their own moral values” (p.176).

In Buddhist thought, the moral values that guide action combine as the karma creating the world we perceive. Where, I wonder, does this God figure come in, other than as a projection of the responsibility we are reluctant to accept? If Islamic men were to come clean and tell women that they must do this and that “because I say so” or “because I want you to”, it seems unlikely that Islamic women would accept their subjugation so readily. To have God on one’s side seems a very handy device!

In conclusion, I am reminded of the Buddhist teaching that a mark of reaching the first stage of enlightenment is when one is no longer governed by the first three hindrances (Samyojanam):

* Sakkayaditti: Self centred, as though king or queen of the world;
* Vicikicca: sceptical doubt; nothing really matters; it is all relative to how I/you see it;
* Silabbataparamaso: belief in right and ritual; belief that one way of doing something is in itself, and in all circumstances, better than another.

So it is not belief in itself that is the problem, but rather the rigidity and denial of the right to question and disagree and adapt a belief according to circumstances that I question. It seems to me that all beliefs can become distorted by self-interest, misunderstanding and the abuse of power invested in a belief. I must also add a rider that I am not claiming Buddhist understandings as ‘the right belief’, nor theistic Christian, Islamic or Jewish religions as ‘wrong beliefs’. I fully accept that there are many paths to spiritual unfolding and wisdom. My concern is about projecting responsibility away from oneself and using another person’s spiritual belief to serve your own interests while claiming that it is ‘God’s will’.

What do you think? I recognise that I am touching on one small aspect of the vast bodies of religious and philosophical thought, but you, too, may have some quick reflection to share…

With warm wishes,

Jacqui

We may not be solid, separate entities but we sure are moving in an ocean of relationships! We are communities of interbeing, on every level of our experience, inner and outer, and the great delusion is the belief that we are isolated, alone and out-of-place in our world.

We are most subject to this delusion when we are feeling depressed, anxious or powerless but this sense of separation and individuality is pervasive at all times and tends to be strongly supported in modern Western and consumer-driven cultures. As many of us “good Buddhists” know, this concept of separation, one from the other, this from that, is seen as fatally flawed and the manifestation of ignorance that causes so much pain and suffering in our lives.

So, imagine my relief, when at the eight day retreat with Tarchin Hearn that I have just returned from, he spoke of little else than the complex weavings of inter-relationship – interbeing – that is our experience, moment to moment, past, present and future! I don’t think he spoke once of the concepts of ‘no-self’ or emptiness. And yet his colourful, poetic descriptions of how we and our present environment have been, and continue to be shaped by the flow of learnings from past and present teachers; the genetic and historic ground of our ancestors, with all their many talents; and the ecological ground of immeasurable, inter-relating life-forms and elements, speaks powerfully of the mystery of no separate self and no separate entities, described as anatta and often translated as ‘emptiness’. What a full emptiness! Read the rest of this entry …

Some years ago, an esteemed spiritual teacher advised a distressed student, struggling with lack of self esteem and confidence, to “go and find some ripe bananas” [people with the qualities she wanted to embody] to spend time with. She explained how green bananas ripen faster when put next to ripe bananas and that this is the same with people. We are strongly influenced by those we spend time with or listen to. This turned out to be a sticky teaching for me. In the last few weeks I have been fortunate to have received teaching, and rubbed shoulders, from three such ‘ripe bananas’. This has been a privilege but also a prompt to reflect on what Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche meant by ’spiritual materialism’.

Chogyam Rinpoche was referring to the consumer-driven tendency, particularly prevalent in the West, to shop around for spiritual teachings from many sources, without committing to testing and exploring in depth any one teaching. So with reference to my last few weeks receiving teaching and spending time with three wise beings from different spiritual traditions, was I engaging in spiritual materialism or searching out spiritual ripe bananas?

So the first of these spiritual teachers from whom I received teaching over a two week period, was Shantimayi – the first woman and Westerner to be recognised by her guru, Sri Maharajji, as a Master in the line of Indian Sacha Masters. I had met her once, sixteen years ago, and been impressed by her wisdom. In her almost continuous travels around the world, teaching and listening to thousands, she explicitly avoids being identified as Buddhist, Hindu or any other religion and instead uses the more inclusive description of embodying a ‘heart’ path. I remembered her as a ripe banana and I was not disappointed! Read the rest of this entry …

How do you find happiness in a smashed–or disease-filled– body, wracked with pain? How do you find joy when you’re reeling from the pain of losing a loved one?

Try using the power of ignoring! Allow the attention to slide away from the sensations and thoughts filled with pain and redirect the mind to an object (physical or mental) with strong associations of beauty, or joy, or love, or kindness or generosity– or any of the emotions that feel good.

A few days ago I was fortunate to listen to a “Talking Heads” interview with Janine Shepherd, the young sportswoman training in cross-country skiing for the Winter Olympics, Read the rest of this entry …