The Buddhist Body Guard

We live in the here and now though usually not deliberately or fully. When we can bring ourselves fully into the present, we find a truer reality and can leave our illusion of self behind. Or so we’re told. But what about the past and future? We may not live in the future right now, but we will in a moment. And our past will be coming along.

I came across a passage about all this in a book where I least expected to find one. In Noah Hawley’s mystery Before the Fall, Gil the body guard prepares for night duty in the house of the rich and famous family he works for.

To be a body man did not mean being in a state of constant alarm. In fact it was the opposite. One had to be open to changes in the way things were—receptive to subtle shifts, understanding that the frog was killed not by being dropped into boiling water, but by being boiled slowly, one degree at a time. The best body men understood this. They knew that the job required a kind of tense passivity, mind and body in tune with all five senses. If you thought about it, private security was just another form of Buddhism, tai chi. To live in the moment, fluidly, thinking of nothing more than where you are and what exists around you. Bodies in space and time moving along a prescribed arc. Shadow and light. Positive and negative space.

here and now (nasa.gov)

nasa.gov

In living this way, a sense of anticipation can evolve, the voodoo pre-knowledge that the wards you are watching are going to do or say something expectable. By being one with the universe you become the universe, and in this way you know how the rain will fall, the way cut grass will blow in fixed starts in a summer wind. You know when [the mother and father] are about to fight, when the [daughter] is getting bored, when [the four-year-old son] has missed his nap and is going to melt down.

You know when the man in the crowd is going to take one step too close, when the autograph fan is, instead, looking to serve legal papers. You know when to slow down on a yellow light and when to take the next elevator.

These are not thing you have feelings about. They are simply things that are. (260-1)

We are, I’m think, all guards of our bodies.  We try to “live in the moment, fluidly” in order to remain “open to changes in the way things are—receptive to subtle shifts.” When I meditate, I used to push away the voice in my head that distracted me with sound bites from the past and clever words for the future. But I’m more comfortable now when that voice intrudes. I hear it as my own body guard reporting in with another piece of the “voodoo pre-knowledge” that he gleans from living in the here and now in the first place.

“The Mind Is Mainly Drawn to the Future”

“The mind is mainly drawn to the future.” So write Martin Seligman and John Tierney in “We Aren’t Built to Live in the Moment” in the New York Times on May 21, 2017. The article is based on the book Homo Prospectus of which Seligman is an author.

Well, is this a new idea about the mind? We know that when we are feeling anxious or overloaded, our mind is scrambling to avoid a danger or find a way out. I know that even in calm hours, my head streams possible conversations in which I come out ahead, drafts blog posts, and edits memories so they’ll look a little better the next time I replay them.

In the Buddhist tradition, in contrast, such future-fussing is mainly about cultivating the illusion of the self. We tangle ourselves up in the false realities of ego, time, words. Better to explore the moment, leave the worries aside. Meditation cultivates a sharper awareness of the present and of our shining mind. The future may seem to be out there, but it is the mindful moment that is real.

mind future (ideamappingsuccess.com)

(ideamappingsuccess.com)

Seligman and Tierney don’t criticize such Buddhist values directly, though the focus on the future-oriented brain contrasts sharply with them. Instead, they take exception to the emphasis in psychology on studying the brain in terms mostly of the past (memory, repetitive learning) and the present (perception). They assert that “Looking into the future, consciously and unconsciously, is a central function of our large brain….” We plan for tomorrow, we rehearse conversations, “We learn not by storing static records but by continually retouching memories and imagining future possibilities.” “Therapists are exploring new ways to treat depression now that they see it as primarily not because of past traumas and present stresses but because of skewed visions of what lies ahead.” And “Our brain sees the world not by processing every pixel in a scene but by focusing on the unexpected,” because what is unexpected might be a clue to what happens next.

This idea that we often understate the brain’s complex preparations for our future makes sense to me. No matter what other qualities of our mind we cherish, the brain’s critical function of scanning for danger and for biological necessities proceeds 24/7. As Darwin spelled it out,  we, like all organisms, are first about reproducing and surviving, and those are certainly future-oriented activities.

Thinking about the perpetually restless brain reminds me of taking our family’s young retriever Ginger for walks, years ago. My wife and I envisioned strolling around the neighborhood with Ginger calmly strolling with us. But what we got instead for the first year or three was a beast straining nonstop to charge ahead and away and pulling our arms practically out of the sockets. Eventually training and maturity sunk in a little and she walked more or less at our pace. But walking itself is a going into the future and Ginger was, like our ancient mind, never far from leaping into it.

 

The Clergy Letter Project

The Clergy Letter Project is a set of letters signed by over 13,000 American clergy supporting the compatibility between science and their own creeds and urging the teaching of evolution in public schools. The Project consists today of four brief, slightly different letters signed by Christian, Jewish, Unitarian Universalist, and Buddhist clergy. It began in 2004 as a response by biologist Michael Zimmerman to anti-evolution policies in a Wisconsin school district. They are a savy, constructive move.

(theclergyletterproject.org)

(theclergyletterproject.org)

Most or all of the letters affirm that the effort to ban the teaching of evolution or to insert the teaching of creationism violates the separation of church and state. Three of the four letters assert, as stated in the Christian one, that religion and science can “comfortably coexist” but that “science [should] remain science and that religion remain religion.” They point to differences of discourse: the purpose of scientific truth is to convey scientific information while the purpose of religious truth is “to transform hearts.”

Standing apart from this emphasis on differences is the Buddhist letter. It comments not on the separation between the two fields but instead and surprisingly on two ways in which evolutionary concepts are integrated within the rationality of the faith. It points out that all things are interconnected with one another as they develop and that the Buddha himself as well as his incarnations are metaphors for the evolving nature of life.

I found this theme in the Buddhist letter refreshing. Here are religious spokespeople responding to a scientific concept not as a threat but as a clarification and an affirmation. What a contrast not only to the creationist debacle but also to the animosity between many atheistic followers of science and supporters of of organized religion. As the Buddhist letter suggests, close encounters between scientific information and spiritual inspiration need not be destructive in all cases.

In this blog, I try to use my experience of and general knowledge about living things as a resource for responding to my spiritual questions. It’s precisely the non-spiritual aspects of science—its literalness, exactitude, and curiosity—that I find to be spiritually stimulating. They give it authority and reveal some of the sides of nature that are invisible to me. I, like many, admire the Clergy Letter Project’s effort to emphasize the compatibility of science and religion and to reject the creationist intrusion in science education. But I also want to hold open a comfortable acceptance for people who want to bring scientific understanding to bear on their religious outlook.