D.T. Suzuki once described Zen as the process of erasing cultural effects from one’s personality, leading to uninterrupted spontaneity. While I don’t think erasing cultural effects is possible–since we’ll always have our culturally based language–I believe uninterrupted spontaneity is. I think it is possible to disconnect cultural methods, habits, and biases from one’s actions in the same way it is possible to feel an impulse (to pick up another beer, for example) but not respond to that impulse. As one practices meditation and intention, the impulse may eventually be mostly extinguished. Prior to extinguishing the impulse, one learns to dis-identify with it, or to view it as not-self. Husrat Inayat Khan described a similar degree of realization in these terms, “When we are able to produce on the canvas of our heart all that we wish, and to erase all that we wish, then we arrive at that mastery for which our soul craves. We fulfill the purpose for which we are here.” I appreciate this comparison between a description of unimpeded spontaneity and unimpeded artistic mastery. This fits with Robert Aitken’s idea that intimacy is realization. The implication is that everything/everyone with which we are not already intimate holds out something for us to discover. If one has not discovered everything, realization is not finished, greater intimacy is possible.
What is the interaction between such an unimpeded (nonsociopathic) individual and society? What’s going on in such a person’s brain and mind? I think we can explore those questions even if the ideal is seen as an ideal and not an actual possibility, and I believe doing so is beneficial because approximating such a state of being brings together the experience of reality, joy, and peace. As it is asked in Zen, “If heaven is not here, then where? If not now, then when?” If divinity passes away is it divine? We can believe yes or no, we can believe that reality needs no imagined divinity, and regardless of differing beliefs, we can increase a personal and social sense of peace and joy.
My considerations in this essay are based somewhat on formless meditation, somewhat on neurophysiology, somewhat on developmental psychology. It is only important to consider the possibility of “formless meditation” or “formless prayer” as an ideal–whether or not it is an actual experience may be left to the individual. Regardless of what one believes about formless meditation, considering the possibility may point out a different idea of progress than the standard problem-solving approach to politics and the standard discomfort-avoidance method of daily living. (If everything is possible, is it already so? How would someone know that?)
I think it is very interesting to compare what we know about how brains work with what we know even without studying brains. In evolution, the preferred method of progress is overproduction and then reduction. So, lots of baby turtles are packed into a nest, but few achieve maturity and actually reproduce. The same happens with our neurons. Lots are produced early in our lives, and then they are reduced. This allows for neurons to grow out in all directions, and the ones that actually land somewhere, the ones that are used, are fed. The ones that aren’t used as much die. It’s like Wild Kingdom is occurring in your head even before you’re born.
By the time our brains are all grown up, lots of the neuronal pathways are specialized to specific functions and specific areas of the brain. This allows us to speak of a “visual cortex”, for example. The functions that are directly affected by intention have various connections to memory, thinking, motor control, affect, sensation, etc., etc. The functions that are most specifically human–especially those which characterize adult, mature humans–tend to have connections with the prefrontal cortex, a region of cortical brainstuff that does not develop fully before young adulthood. There is significant growth in this region between approximately 15 years of age and 25 years or so.
At this point of scientific discovery, following up after “The Decade of the Brain”, neurologists are discovering specific ways in which brains are malleable or flexible. The current wave of scientific discovery is outlining just how our brains are much more adaptive than was previously theorized. In applying these discoveries, we–as scientists or even as humans–are working on how to intentionally change our lives by intentionally changing our brain functioning. In other words, we now have physiological evidence that phenomenal changes are possible on individual and global levels. While it is interesting to me to work out ways in which we can intentionally change the physical functioning of our brains, it is much more fascinating to me to consider what that means in terms of being able to change our behavior, experience, sense of agency, communal and global social interactions, and overall enjoyment of life. As with all science, specialists are realizing these possibilities before methods of communicating those possibilities are worked out. Part of what fascinates me about this process is how psychological processes allow and limit social change. Again, we are working out evidence of how psychological processes can affect changes in the brain; some of these changes in the physical brain allow psychological abilities that have not been fully explored; these abilities allow real change that has not been pursued to date; exploring these abilities will allow as-yet-unseen methods of interacting on an interpersonal level and on every other social level up to global interactions.
We have more potential than we can imagine at this point in history. Let me repeat that: we can not even realistically imagine what we are capable of, not because our imaginations take to flights of fancy, but because our potential is immeasurable. We have scientific proof of this, and we have excellent exemplars which we can learn from in order to begin the process of imagining where we might go. We have yet to work out the methods of communicating some of that potential, and every single one of the beliefs and biases (about ourselves, about our cultures, and about human beings) that we hold dear will in some way structure (support, limit, direct) our exploration of that potential.
In the past, human potential was largely described in cultural metaphors, many of them reliant upon religious myths. All of those historic cultural metaphors have been less than universal, less than global, less than accurate. On the other hand, all of those metaphors have served at least two significant functions: 1) creating social coherence by creating common experiences and common values, and 2) encouraging individual development by providing guiding stories and specific techniques which allow for individual achievement and cultural advancement.
What has changed? Well, we are learning more than ever about global processes–individual human development, social development, cultural exchange, ecological interactions, etc. We have global systems of trade and communication that have developed mostly in the last century. We have never had so many small groups in the world armed with automatic weaponry and separatist ideology. We have never had so many people in the world. And we have never had such an overburdening impact on the environment. If we continue to look at problems and attempts to solve problems, we will continue to look at apportioning blame, which means that we will continue to look at who we want to put outside of our circle, who we want to be a “them” which is opposed to an “us”. Our global communications systems allow us to get beyond such a provincial attitude, but they do not demand that we do so. Psychological processes allow and limit social change. Choice must be involved in such change. In the same way, we can retain a basically adolescent mentality about how to make decisions throughout our adult lives, or we can choose to develop a greater degree of wisdom and maturity. In both instances, choice is involved. What we are learning about development of the prefrontal cortex and the “executive functioning” that development allows fits very neatly into the possibilities about maturity I am talking about, fits very neatly with the inclusiveness our global communications systems allow.
The past will certainly educate us, but we cannot find the possibilities that global electronic communications allow in a past that did not have global electronic communications systems. In the same way, people from particularist cultures have traditionally explored means of developing as individuals within their societies, but they have never had the extent of knowledge about global cultures and neurological possibilities that are available at this point in history. In the same way that the possibilities allowed by the usage of gun powder could not be fully imagined in an accurate manner before the invention of gunpowder, the possibilities of prefrontal cortex development mixed with global communication could not be accurately imagined before an understanding of prefrontal development and global communications.
Plato’s REPUBLIC can be read as a description of a possible republic, but it can also be read as an analogy for individual development. In the same way, but moving in an opposite direction, we can learn by considering how exemplary individuals express universal human potentials. We are more able to test the universality of such potentials and communicate our findings than ever before. If we take a loving scientific stance, we will discover how those universal potentialities bring us together, and we will discover how universality is the basis of individual growth. So my thesis is this: as we gain a better understanding of our universality and our potential as human beings, we will develop more fully as individuals; as we develop more completely or more thoroughly as individuals, we will inform and change the universal understanding of what it means to be human.
In the past, cultures often relied on separatist ideology and myth to offer descriptions of potential. Now, we can use brain development and functioning as another analogy, as another perspective, with which to test myths. This means that cultures and individuals can discover with a greater degree of accuracy who they are and what they are capable of in actuality. I have a dream.
At this point, I think I have hinted at or touched upon the major types of content that are necessary for what follows. I think I have vaguely described where I’m coming from, and from here on out, I can be more specific in what I have to say. Briefly, formless meditation, executive functioning, and the brain’s adaptability influence my understanding of individual and cultural progress. Past forms can educate and influence but not contain future possibilities. We are the future.
Instead of taking our vision of what is possible from myth or from the impulse to have what one sees, I think it is possible to learn from history, but then to also use brain development as an analogy for human development. In this way, it makes no difference whether one is a materialist or a spiritualist. Materialists can appreciate a relaxed state of mind even if that mind is seen as nothing more than the manifestation of awareness as produced by a gray blob of neurons, glial cells, electric impulses, and chemicals. A spiritualist can appreciate both relaxed states of mind and also the educational material we may gain from studying brains. From Khan’s perspective, spirit is a subtle form of matter and matter is a more solid form of spirit. If by subtle, we are pointing to brainwaves as more subtle than chemicals and solid structures, we have “spirit”. Materialists may say there is no such thing as “spirit”, but they can understand “spirit” as brainwaves and the phenomenology that brainwaves allow. If spirit is prior to matter, we weren’t around in this form to debate it back then, and if matter is all there is, there are ways for us to improve our experience as matter moving through matter.
That should describe my standpoint as far as ultimate causes are concerned. I’ll leave ultimate causes to the gods whether they exist or not. But I’d like to keep cultural myths around, because scientists have, on occasion, been caught up in scientific trends that are not only reactionary, but trends that have been a flat-out denial of reality. Einstein’s difficulty with quantum physics is a great example of a wonderful scientist and human being both creating progress and also denying progress. Even if our spirits are unlimited (and if they don’t exist, then they are not limited by “reality”), our minds have certain limits, certain standard ways of functioning and learning. As we learn about those ways of functioning, the things we learn expand our ideas of what is possible in a realistic manner. Without imagination, though, we will not see the possibilities before us. Without initiative, we will not seize the moment, this moment.
Those who have spent time with me recently may have caught me pontificating on synchronization of brainwaves, prefrontal development, and perhaps even emotions and impulsivity. I think I may need to be more responsible in pointing out evidence, even if inspiration often begins in initially untestable hypotheses. Freud said that no one can see their own unconscious, and I began wondering a couple years ago if I could count on that in some way. Can you find a greater degree of understanding yourself by knowing that the nonconscious “stuff” is part of you and your world? Can you become more aware of that which you are not aware? In thinking about these questions, I find myself returning to Zeno’s mental puzzles. “How does change occur?” seems to be the question in a very basic and general form, and I’m very interested in forms.
We know something about how habits are formed in the brain. In other words, we know about how brains change to become more supportive of particular behaviors. It fascinates me that habits involve a great deal of activity–since lots of brain cells need to be active for any physical activity to occur–and yet habits, phenomenologically, often feel like being stuck. I guess habits, then, are more like being stuck in a groove along a certain road than like being stuck in one place without moving.
Habits, including obsessions, are also like circling, like a broken record. Because if we can hold our attention still enough, it is not possible for thoughts to even complete themselves in the midst of that stillness. Instead of being like circling, concentration is like a single point. But I would say that this sort of one-pointed concentration is fairly rare throughout any given day, and it seems fairly rare throughout most people’s lives. If it “happens” to us without intentional effort, it seems that it must pass fairly quickly, we have trouble remembering that moment, or we have trouble thinking about it. It fascinates me that this phenomenological moment of stillness or no-self involves a great deal of brain activity. As Jeffrey Schwartz says, mindfulness takes energy.
If mindfulness becomes habitual, is it still mindfulness? In physical terms, is it possible to use less energy while remaining “mindful” after one becomes more familiar with mindfulness? Is it possible to use less brainspace, less force, less effort? What changes in one’s brain if one practices mindfulness consistently? Do we metabolize less oxygen, less glucose? Do we switch from a less-synchronized, less energy-efficient state towards greater synchronization of certain areas and greater reliance on subtler forms of energy? These questions interest me, but I should probably stick to habits a little longer.
I’ll rely on Schwartz’s book THE MIND AND THE BRAIN. I’ll assume that what he presents is physiologically correct (and I may end up speculating wildly from there). If what he says turns out to be incorrect, we can always adjust. From page 121-122, “Scientists concluded in the 1990s that one of the main ways axons and dendrites make connections–and neurons therefore form circuits–is by firing electrical signals, almost at random, and then precisely honing the crude pattern to fit the demands of experience.” Very enterprising of them. This process of forming circuits occurs from early in the womb until the end of life. Habits can be partially described by these cellular circuits. Circuits that are used pretty often tend to last longer and work more efficiently while those that are not used as often tend to fall into disuse and sometimes disrepair. (I will not get into memory in this essay, but how memories are formed and sustained, especially how long-term memory lasts either with or without a hefty expenditure of energy, is probably an important topic to consider.)
When people form habits, they relegate brain resources–electrical activity and the fuel for electrical activity, for example–to the circuits that are active during those habits. When people begin to meditate, they meditate “almost at random”. There are probably a few savants who fall easily into one type of meditative state or another, but probably no one is capable of easily meditating in every particular technique when they begin. In other words, people probably do not choose the state of their brain without practice. But with adequate practice, I’d say it is possible to “precisely hone the crude pattern to fit the demands of experience”.
Allow me to posit that this similarity runs across the development of neuronal circuits, the development of particular abilities (such as driving a car or focusing on the breath), and also the development of what we might call will or agency. Practice makes active, activity allows for consistent ability, and ability allows for expertise. This occurs at a cellular level, it occurs at the organ level (whole brain–see Elkhonon Goldberg’s THE WISDOM PARADOX), it occurs at an individual level, it happens at a family or team level, it happens at a national level, and I’d say it can happen at a global level. I don’t think it is necessary to debate whether practice can actually “make perfect” before we get closer to perfect. I think that with or without absolutes, we can mark out various types of progress. If our neurons can figure it out, so can we.
The next thing I’d like to say about meditation is that, once you’ve got somewhat of a handle on accessing fairly relaxed states, once you’re beyond that “almost at random” beginning stage, all of this thinking seems like a lot of extra effort. Compared to subtler states of consciousness, putting concepts together and putting concepts into words takes a lot of energy. This is not much different from when anyone begins studying a new academic subject; thinking in such words and concepts takes extra effort in the beginning, but you adjust. Well, it’s easier in some ways to adjust to actually doing meditation than talking about meditation. The difference is that, once you’ve gotten to a certain point with a new academic or conceptual subject, it becomes easier to talk about. When you get to a certain point in meditation, it’s harder to talk about. That’s partially due to the absence of a common language and understanding. It’s hard to say something in a language that doesn’t have the words you need, and it’s hard to be understood by someone who doesn’t have either the requisite experience or mental capability. (Imagine trying to explain algebra or Antarctica to a three-year-old. You might have a good time and come up with some colorful stories!)
The difficulty in speaking is also similar to when world-renowned mathematicians are asked to teach basic undergraduate classes in mathematics. It’s hard for them to go back to such an obvious level once they become familiar with the advanced subtleties in the field. At that point, the more advanced, more complicated material is simpler for them because, in order to talk to the rest of us math-mortals, they have to slow down the flow of information; they have to put something fluid into chunks, and that takes effort. In the same way, with just a little ability in meditation, it is easier to meditate than talk about it, easier to do it fluidly than to put it into chunks. So what most long-time meditators have done is to focus on the meditation and let the words fall where they may. Those of us who are foolish enough to spend all this energy on talking very often interrupt the flow. Isn’t that curious?
I think the “extra” effort is worthwhile since all of the spiritual people and math geniuses in the past have not solved the problems that face our world today. I don’t think that makes them less amazing, but I think that does leave us with some work to do. What that means is that we have to do some things that they did not. And that means we’ll have to figure out new opportunities, new actions. Luckily, we’re dealing with similar types of action potentials that the great ones have or had (regardless of who you consider great). Brains tend to mature in certain ways. Since people have different cultures, different experiences, and different personalities, the ways in which people mature may appear to be very different; since people have similar genes and similar brains, those differences appear to be more superficial or more malleable than the similarities.
I don’t want to move off of this idea about the difficulty of thinking too quickly. There is a dissociative effect that meditation has on meditators that is similar to the dissociative effect that any significant difference has on people. When you are different, you are somewhat marginalized. Imagine being a bright kid with uneducated parents. Imagine having a massive array of possibilities that the previous generation was not offered. That’s the situation we’re in. I’m not saying the older generations aren’t intelligent, but they certainly are not prepared for handling globalization, international investment capital, and the military-industrial complex. They certainly have not structured society so as to keep a public rein on the media or multinational corporations. I’m not blaming here, I’m describing. What happens when the past generations don’t have the wisdom, know-how, or communications systems it takes to solve the current problems? Life happens. Simple. Okay, but what about meditators? Well, they experience universal or near-universal possibilities not experienced by everyone. There certainly are “spontaneous” experiences of alternate states, but meditation deals in the intentional cultivation of something that is not naturally consistent. This aspect of not being naturally consistent marginalizes meditators.
People communicate that they do not want to admit the full extent of their own potential in many ways. There is comfort in being reductionistic about what it means to be human. If being human is a nasty business, we’ve all got our excuses for being lazy or nasty. If you’re familiar with meditation, you may have less of an impulse towards nastiness and/or you may have a greater degree of control over that sort of impulse. Prayer can have a similar effect. Contemplation can have a similar effect. The catch is that if your “truth” is less brutal than other people’s truths, you notice the miscommunication (your truth may not be apparent to them), and you feel the brutality or difference/dissociation (they may notice your “truth” without accepting it). This is part of why it can be helpful to meditate in a cloistered or isolated situation. Not only is the standard form of thinking felt to be extra work, but standard interactions can seem unnecessarily brutal. (This is true for people who are naturally nicer than others as well.) What all this means is that meditators have an excuse for being socially avoidant, and their excuse is based in the reality of more intense or more tranquil states of mind.
I’ll probably get around to power analysis in a few pages, but I’d like to present an example of a “brutal” truth in the field of psychology along with the development of that truth. John Watson led the way in basically presenting people as mobile meatbags. The focus in behaviorism is in “shaping behavior”, which makes sense to me. In order to focus on shaping behavior, some behaviorists have denied personhood to human beings. While all ideologies direct and limit the scope of vision, this particular limitation leads to some Machiavellian psychotherapeutic interventions along with a flat-out denial of humanity in some instances. The school I went to for my master’s degree in psychology seems radically anti-behaviorist to me, so maybe some of the benefits of behaviorism also stand out for me. When behaviorism is mixed with mindfulness, we get Dialectical Behavior Therapy–a form of therapy that has been proven to be much more effective (in a humane way) than an apparently nicer, nondirective, “humanistic” approach. I would say that anyone who insists on using an ineffective approach with suffering clients is not being humane, even if they are being “humanistic”. The basic truth in humanistic approaches is that it is nice to be nice. The basic truth in behaviorist approaches is that actions speak louder than words. I’m not big on choosing sides when both sides are wrong...and right. It looks to me like both sides, when they make a “them” and an “us”, are incomplete.
In the same way, meditators who want to be avoidant have an incomplete approach to life and a lack of realization. I’d argue that an incomplete approach to life shows an incomplete approach to meditation because meditation can enhance, instead of limit, one’s living. And I’ll rely on Aitken’s description of realization as intimacy. If you’re pulling away, that’s not intimacy. If you’re lacking in intimacy, that’s not realization. My basic argument here is that I don’t want to give meditators somewhere to run away to. Dropping out is dropping out.
Okay, I think I’ve arrived at a point where I can talk about cultures and subcultures. My interest in culture has a lot to do with how culture supports or denies individual progression. This is consistent with my interest in meditation having a lot to do with how meditation supports or denies individual progression. For me, the major difference between culture and meditation is that, once someone has a sense of what meditation might be, it’s possible to progress in meditation without a great deal of social interaction or support. But it’s very difficult to be a one-man culture. It’s difficult partially because being a one-woman culture is like being an individual. In dealing with culture, we’re dealing with interpersonal interactions; in dealing with meditation, we may be dealing with interpersonal interactions–like with methods that cultivate compassionate action–or we may be dealing with individual focus and a change in individual phenomenology and individual perceptions. Now, for all the Buddhists in my audience (are there any?) who are screaming that individuals are co-existent with larger groups, that individuality “arises” codependently, I’ll respond, “Of course.” This is why we can compare culture with the effects of meditative techniques as if they are very similar. It all fits together. Individuals don’t stand out as individual unless there is a social background, and a society is not a society without multiple individuals making it up. In this way, subcultures are only a minor ripple in my cosmology. While group dynamics differ somewhat depending on the size of groups, subcultures exist as parts of a larger society in the same way that individuals exist as parts of a larger society. When an individual chooses to see oneself as an individual, they make an arbitrary (but not meaningless) distinction about who is on the inside and who is on the outside. When an individual chooses to intentionally pursue meditation, they choose to stand out from their own background or historic actions as well as choosing to stand out from society in general (because there has never been a culture that has had meditation firmly instantiated as part of the overall culture). This is kind of important: when someone chooses, they stand out, they express agency or consciousness.
Just as there are degrees of difference (I’m an American, but I may or may not be a typical American), there are degrees of individuality or agency or consciousness. Think about a situation where someone says, “I wasn’t myself.” They’re saying that they don’t want their actions in that moment to be counted as intentional, as representative of what they choose. Certainly, some people would say that I am representative of Americans, and some might say that I am not. The fact that I don’t care so much what they might say may be a typically American response. So, many people would say that they are “most” themselves in situations where they either look very good in doing what they do or in situations where they stand out from the crowd. At least this is true of Americans.
This discussion brings up an interesting distinction–that between identity politics and agentic activity. Identity is always retroactive, based on the past and on one’s ideology as it has been shaped by the past. Identity is unavoidable and valuable, but it’s not the whole story. People who rely on identity politics are relying on an incomplete picture. In my opinion, they’re leaving out a lot of their potential. This is one of the things I appreciate about behaviorism. Where identity is always about the past, activity is always about now. Behaviorism is less interested in your past, and more interested in your behavior. Meditation is less about your concepts about your past or your ideology based on your past and more interested in your presence.
I’d like to keep that idea of presence in the background, in awareness, while I circle back around to a couple other points. A defined, inanimate, solid, not-fluid, not-growing sense of identity is always retro–it’s about the past, and if one does not view the past as alive and changing, then identity is about a dead and inanimate past. How much of your identity is just a rerun of where you’ve been? This sense of closed-off identity is similar to the pathological core schemas involved in what psychologists are currently calling “personality disorders”. Basically, a personality disorder is diagnosed when someone gets stuck in a habitual and problematic pattern of interacting with other people and the world in general. Quite often, people with “personality disorders” believe that these problematic patterns are “who they are”. Sometimes, though, their habitual responses are recognized as patterned (not inherent, not instinctual) knee-jerk reactions, and the people with “personality disorders” will clearly feel, “But that’s not me.”
We’re dealing in different degrees of awareness and also different degrees of flexibility. Someone who recognizes that a personality disorder is “not-me” is more aware than someone with a similar personality disorder who feels the patterning is “who they are”. But just the awareness that a personality disorder is “not-me” is not necessarily enough to change one’s reliance on habitual behavior. An alcoholic, for example, may recognize their addiction as problematic without necessarily being able to stop drinking. And most of us do certain things on a recurring basis that we don’t necessarily like. (Think of ways in which you may be similar to your parents even though you swore to yourself you’d be different than that when you grew up.) The basic point here is that awareness is not the same as flexibility. A supporting point is that habits we’re unaware of and habits we are aware of but can’t easily change are similar to personality disorders. If they become repetitive, intense, or problematic enough, you’re diagnosable. These habitual disorders (like narcissistic personality disorder or dependent personality disorder) that psychologists currently diagnose have interesting similarities to addictions (another type of problematic, habitual behaviors) and also to what judgmental traditional religions saw as sinful behavior or moral weakness. To me, if we’re all describing the same thing, it’s the same thing. The big difference in my opinion is in what each description allows us to do. If the problematic circumstances simply are the way it is and always will be, no one looks for change. Life moves forward, but sometimes people try not to.
For thousands of years, man’s basis in “original sin” was seen as basically incurable, and up until the mid-80s or so, personality disorders were seen as basically incurable. Between 1985 and 1995, research showed that effective treatment for personality disorders takes about two years. Research on dementia shows that memories that have been around for more than three years are more likely to survive brain deterioration. We also know that it takes about one hour of practicing alternate responses (alternative to habitual reactions) to noticeably and predictably affect growth of new brain cells that signal new abilities, new habits. So we have rough ideas of how long certain psychological changes and their physical correlates take. How long does it take to affect “original sin”?
At five to six years of meditative practice, some benchmark changes stand out as lasting changes, even if someone stops meditating altogether. Before that amount of time, meditators can notice psychological changes in themselves that may not be quite so lasting or pronounced. I’m moving in a particular direction here more than trying to win specific points in a debate, so the actuality of potential for change is more important to me right now than the details are. The specific changes that occur can be highly flexible and highly individualized in many respects, but the fact that change occurs on a major scale is undeniable. Just as many people with “personality disorders” recognize problematic habits without committing to the actions that are necessary to create significant change, many “normals” are comfortable wishing for greater peace or joy in their lives but unwilling to commit to the actions which are necessary to create significant change. Some of these changes take more time than others, but all of the changes I’m discussing are affected by will, agency, and intentional direction of attention. Anyone who denies their own ability to develop may remain immature and unhappy, but change comes to us all.
What I’m attempting to describe in a general manner is how adaptability of the brain is reinforced by development of agency and attentional abilities. This adaptability and development are fundamental to living a more enjoyable, more resilient life. Just as brains are important to individuals–but not the be-all and end-all of individualism–culture is important to individuals, but individuals are not totally determined by culture. We can explore these connections by looking at the question: what is the difference between personality (which is usually described as fairly consistent across a lifetime) and personality disorder (which are usually described as consistently problematic across a lifetime)? A similar question, but on a larger scale, is: what is the difference between a culture that supports continuous growth, a culture that is alive, and one that restricts growth? While we have spoken about a disorder of individuals (personality disorders), people often assume that something about cultures should be sacrosanct. A personality is to an individual what a culture is to a group. To the extent that personalities can be disordered, so can cultures. To the extent that “personalities” can be healthy, so can cultures.
What an individual tends to do is to decide whether or not their culture fits their temperament and then decide whether or not their culture “should” change. What cultures tend to encourage is that individuals within those societies which are normal or exemplary of that culture’s values are seen as “healthy” or “good”, while those who are not exemplary are seen as abnormal, wrong, or disordered. So when an individual doesn’t easily fit with their culture, they either tend to leave in search of something better, or they tend to remain somewhat dissatisfied. When a culture finds certain individuals unacceptable, those individuals and their characteristics are marginalized in some way. When an unhappy individual leaves for another culture that appears to be better, when they convert in some sense, they are personally invested in what is “good” about their new culture. To sustain their conversion, though, they usually invest somewhat in believing that there is something “bad” about their old culture. Again, my tendency is to not pick sides when both sides seem incomplete. My attitude is that there is probably something necessary about the old culture, probably something enjoyable or beneficial about the new culture, probably something cohesive about “normal” and exemplary individuals, and probably something really wonderful about the radicals. I tend to like radicals, but I think that their radicalism often gives them a bad name. Not to mention, some types of radicalism are particularly malicious.
In distinguishing personality from culture, I think a few ideas are worth keeping in mind. There is a difference between genetic endowment and second nature. So I draw a distinction between temperament, which is tied to one’s genetic make-up, and what feels like “second nature”, which can be learned. Personality may be seen as a combination of genetic endowment and second nature. As intentional individuals, we are able to influence the impact of our genes and we are able to influence the impact of our second nature. As human beings, we can’t escape the influence of our genes, and we can’t escape the influence of our histories, families, and cultures. But, just as there is a difference between genetic endowment and second nature, there is a difference between the history of a culture or personality and the future of a culture or personality. While few people actually speak about the future of a culture, most people who do so only speak about the future of a culture as a continuation or an aggrandizement of the history of that culture. People most often speak of personality as a continuation of historically obvious characteristics. Enter radicalism. (If you would, in all this talk about past and future, remember that I am very interested in retaining awareness of presence.)
Let’s revisit the idea that culture is to a group what personality is to an individual. We can call aspects of a personality “disordered” when an individual could not willingly change them if they desired. These are aspects of behavior that could be changed, though, if your psychologist understood treatment for personality disorders, if you were willing to commit to the necessary actions involved in change, and if the social and ecological environment allowed or supported those actions. If this is the case, what would a cultural disorder be? I’d say that any culture is disordered when healthy change is possible, but refused based on problematic and habitual patterns that have been developed in the past. When an individual or culture becomes reliant on unnecessary and harmful patterns of activity, I call those patterns unnecessary and harmful. If we can see that this is difficult for individuals to recognize and change on their own, we can see that it can be difficult for groups of individuals as well.
We have proof that humans can intentionally change to be happier and healthier than ANY culture has been in the history of humanity. We have biological proof, and certain individuals and subgroups have shown that this is so. Setting our standards and expectations by what we have seen in the past will simply give us inaccurately low standards and expectations in the same way that a person with a personality disorder who expects that their life must always be the same simply has inaccurately low expectations of themselves and their experience of life.
My general perspective in dealing with clients in therapy is to find out their story, to agree that, “Yes, you have your justifications (you may have your reliance on alcohol, for instance),” and then to ask, “If we have the know-how, the wisdom, and you have the capability, do you want to change?” We have our global economic, political, and cultural excuses for not developing as a global group. By ancient and backwards standards of all kinds, we have all the justifications we need for not improving. We are justified in continuing habitual modes of violence, exclusion, and suffering. I’m justified, you’re justified. Now, do we want to be justified in our violence and suffering or moving towards happiness? I’m for moving towards happiness.
Because of how our brains work, because of how our personalities work, and because of how our cultures sustain themselves, change can be difficult. But that is like saying that intentionally keeping a heart beating for seventy years is difficult. Yes, it is. You have to feed the body that sustains that heart, keep it relatively free from disease, and what’s more, you have to supply that heart with fresh oxygen every single day–and every minute no less! What a great deal of work. Wouldn’t it be easier to just stop breathing? Well, wouldn’t it? People who know me well–along with many who don’t–know that I am not “easy”. I’ve never wanted to be “easy”. It’s not in my temperament, it’s not in my second nature, and it’s not in my intention or personality to be easy. I don’t prefer girls who are easy, and I don’t prefer guys who are easy. I don’t prefer jobs that are easy or days that are easy. I may be in danger of rolling into a Doctor Seuss-type monologue if I keep going in this direction, but my point is that I’d rather my life be good than easy. If “sucks” takes no work, and “worthwhile” takes a lot of effort and is possible, then I’ve got a lot to give. That’s part of my personality.
But what if it was my intention to be easy even though it’s not in my personality? What does intention, resilience, creativity, and potential mean when stacked up against history and physiology? Honestly, it took a lot for me to learn to relax. It’s taken years of paying attention, of choosing the willingness to learn, and years of committing to doing what it takes. But because I’ve taken the years, because I have made the commitment, I’m certain that it can happen. I’ve changed my physiology and my day-to-day phenomenology, and I know it because I’ve been paying attention. I’ve developed my potential in this area intentionally. At this point, most people still wouldn’t call me “easy”, but I can “take it easy” when I want to. So the next question is this: is personality the “way we are” with or without involving choice? I think that if we say that personality does not involve intentional action, then we are not limited to being a personality–there is something more to us (like will, attention, intention). This definition of personality is a definition of an obsolete entity, a thing that has occurred but is no more because we can choose a great deal about our actions that is not necessarily genetically determined or “second nature” to us. Is it “normal” for humans to form lifelong monogamous relationships? We do it. Some of us attempt and fail, some of us try until we get it right, some commit on the first attempt, and some of us never do. But we can. Whether it is normal or not, it takes choice and continued commitment. In a similar manner, I’m married to my decision to be able to relax when it makes sense, when I choose to, and that takes a continual investment of time and activity from me. For other people, they may be more naturally relaxed, so it may take more of an intentional effort for them to work consistently.
What is the difference between a definition of personality that has no guts, no soul, no future, and identity politics based on gutless, future-less identities? I want to be clear on this. Identity and personality are vitally important. But I want to know if, when people speak about identity, personality, and culture, they intend to speak about something with guts, with an inside, with soul–or something hollow and dead. I’m not insisting on “soul” as some divine unending thing that floats around your head in a circle, but as one might refer to music that has “soul”. I mean soul like when you look at a two-year-old who is still young enough to learn any language and culture in the world really well, that two-year-old does something that stands out as perfectly unique, and your “heart” opens. Like when you see a bald eagle or a blue whale and are impressed. That’s how I mean “soul”. (In this case, it may “take one to know one”.)
I think that part of what happens is that we get used to communicating in euphemisms–and not only euphemisms like “heart” and “soul”, but dead euphemisms like “personality disorders” and some forms of identity politics or power politics or economics–and then we forget that there is some living person investing belief in those euphemisms, that those euphemisms would die without the life we invest in them. Those euphemisms are no more likely to continue without social investment of attention in them than my sense of relaxation. I’m a pretty cranked-up guy, relatively speaking. I’ve learned to hold that intensity fairly still, but it’s there. I have to choose peace if I want to experience it consistently in my life. I invest in it. The same is true with the other ideas we commit to.
Back to meditation. As I sit here listening to Billie Holiday singing about travelin’ light, collecting my thoughts, I know that I would be better served (in a direct, immediate, individual sense) to put down my coffee mug, stop trying to lay out a constellation of concepts in a meaningful way, and stretch or meditate. I have a reasonably accurate understanding of how I could change with a few years of focusing on meditation instead of focusing on studying and communications. There’s the added benefit to the people immediately around me that they won’t get one more piece of writing which they wonder whether I hope they’ll read, whether they should respond, whether it’s worth saying anything more. I’m far enough along with my meditation to be able to relax about all this mental effort. I may be far enough along with my studies to actually have something worth sharing. So how do we want intention, contemplation, meditation, and commitment to influence the course we take? If you’re still reading, you’re committing to change. I’m committed. But part of what we answer with our actions–whether we consciously ask ourselves this question or not–is whether I’m committed to a better life for me or for a wider social circle. With every single act we commit to one answer to that question or another.
So, is part of meditation “the process of erasing cultural effects from one’s personality, leading to uninterrupted spontaneity”? I think that meditation is balance. In the same way that your physical center of gravity shifts when you move but is always “there”, if we can be said to have a psychological center of gravity, I’d say that meditation lies in being aware of that center and in balancing ourselves based on that center. In considering whether such a point actually exists, I’d challenge any contenders to find the physical point–exactly–of their center of gravity. Abstract geometrical points are hard to find in reality, but having the concept makes it possible to think about something we actually feel. I am interested in being conscious of that balance more than in debating myself or others about whether or not some abstract point “actually” exists. If we practice, physically or psychologically, we can learn to find our balance. When we have our balance, we are more able to execute the dance moves–planned or improvised–which we are trying to execute. That execution looks like grace whether it is “uninterrupted spontaneity” or something else. (My generalizable point here is that most of the ideological sticking points that people argue about are simply unimportant to progress. They are no more or less significant than barnacles on the side of a boat. Without attention, they agglomerate, like bureaucracy. The solution is more often to scrape them off than to solve them. This is where even apathy has it’s place; almost every, or every, human reaction has its value. I don’t care which port or ocean barnacles came from originally–a barnacle is a barnacle is a barnacle.)
Grace brings us to an interesting point where some people have trouble distinguishing artistry as Khan talked about it from creative or intense impulsivity. The ideas of intimacy and awareness help us out with this distinction. Mihalyi Csikszentmihalyi called this “interesting point” flow. Where he may or may not have–depending on your opinion–made a clear distinction between impulsivity and artistry in flow states, I think it is important to make this distinction clear. People discuss moments of being “in the zone” or flow as if these are the same as moments of selflessness, the same as grace, the same as artistry. There are some striking similarities that support this conflation. But there are also degrees of intimacy, degrees of the intimacy that Robert Aitken called realization. Are there different types of intimacy? Maybe. Certainly there are different types of closeness. You can be close to the edge of a cliff during a hurricane or close to your lover on a moonlit stroll, and there are differences in the experience of those closenesses. The same is true for awareness. You may be close to your lover or close to a cliff and have a heightened sense of intensity without having a subtle or clear sense of awareness. In other words, donkeys enjoy fucking, they get amped up about it, but it may be possible for humans to experience something in the act that your average donkey most often misses. This is what I mean about flow, selflessness, intimacy, and awareness. Any ape can lose awareness of their surroundings and their sense of self if they really get into the act. Is that intimacy? Is that realization? I don’t mean to discount mammalian emotions or arousal here, I mean to raise an important point. This is crass because making certain distinctions clear sometimes is done most effectively by making those distinctions obvious. (For a literary predecessor that relied on donkeys fucking to make points about meditation and intimacy, see Rumi’s Mathnawi. Hafez makes his points with dogs, but you get the gist: I’m not only crass but also fairly well-read.) Is there a difference between overheated donkeys and tantric sex? If you’re unsure how to answer this question, or if you’d answer that there is no difference, you can understand why I find it important to be clear on this point. I would say that there is a difference between moving into a state where one is unaware of oneself by moving through intimacy or moving through sexual excitation; you can be close without being intimate. Don’t get me wrong; I appreciate both types of losing self awareness immensely, but there are varying degrees of awareness and intimacy. In my opinion, there is a time and a place for sex that is just sex, but intimacy and awareness do add something. Certain Tibetan practitioners of tantric meditation, and probably certain Indian practitioners as well, practice this type of arousal and awareness without a partner in the beginning; once they’ve sufficiently developed their awareness, they may begin with a partner. I don’t know how many tantric orgasms have been monitored by functional MRIs, but I’m willing to bet that if we had the right volunteers, differences would be easily measurable by brainscan. For all I know, it might already have been done; I’m only marginally interested in tantric brainscans and donkey excitation.
I am interested in the ways in which we can increase our sense of personal and social peace and joy by cultivating intimacy and artistry. It is in the context of appreciating intimacy and artistry that I think it is possible to discuss “how psychological processes allow and limit social change”. I think that agreement from people at seemingly contradictory perspectives may come through a better understanding of what psychologists are learning about executive functioning, prefrontal cortex development in young adults, radicals and the need for radicals, idealization as compared to mindfulness, and consistent attention to potential versus a focus on problems and problem-solving. Cultivating individual intimacy and awareness occurs most effectively through ethical actions and meditation/contemplation/prayer. Cultivating social and cultural intimacy and awareness–because scads of individuals are far beyond any large scale culture in this area–is most closely analogous to effective treatment for personality disorders.
If it seems this essay is all over the place, if it is hard to follow, you can simplify your reading and gain a rough synopsis by reading just the italicized and bold-print sections in order to see my main points and perhaps gain some sense of progression. I’m not a stickler for unnecessary details, and I’m willing to have my comments stand or fall based on the gist of what I’m saying. But understand the gist.
As I’m setting myself up to deliver a hopefully brilliant and succinct conclusion, considering barnacles and cliff’s edges and wondering what pet agendas I’d like to cram in before the end, I find myself thinking I’ll be able to avoid a lengthy, detailed power analysis. In fact, the usual method of applying academic power analyses may be an integral part of many standing disagreements. While I’d like to avoid setting up multiple opposing sides if I can do so and still describe our situation somewhat accurately, I definitely need to touch on: insight, breakthroughs, idealism, radicalism, structure, and fluidity. In order to discuss radicalism progressively and realistically, I think the context needs to be more about artistry and intimacy and less about dissatisfaction and revolution. We reap what we sow, and I’d rather reap genuine intimacy than utopian visions, winning and losing, fucking others or fucking myself. I’ll try to lay out a change analysis next, followed by a conclusion (brilliant or otherwise).
Probably every culture has certain stereotypes about different periods of development. In America, only the “Terrible Twos” are talked about as being as difficult as adolescence. Believe it or not, there are some cultures that do not even recognize adolescence as a remarkable period. Most cultures have certain rites of passage–getting a driver’s license, vision quests, genital mutilation–but other cultures just don’t make much of growth through adolescence. From puberty to algebra and drunken rebellion to voting rights to military service, adolescence stands out for most Americans as a difficult time for parents and their children/young adults.
In two hundred years, we’ve gone from an agricultural economic basis to industrialism to political superpower and consumer economy to ideological gender and race equality to research and development in the 1980s and 1990s to service economy in the early (and hopefully only early-) 21st century. In three generations, we’ve gone from radio and newspapers to TV Land to international websurfing and interactive gaming. (The next generation is certainly going to a virtual hell in a high-speed handbasket.) We’ve officially separated church from state, unofficially downplayed or segregated the “elderly”, instantiated federally supported abortion programs, split more than half of all marriages in divorce, and our politicians squabble like contestants on the Jerry Springer Show. We work more than adults in any other nation, and kids often spend more time with electronica (where they view what?–bazillions–of murders) than with their parents. I don’t know that it “should” be some other way, but however you cut this cake, it isn’t hard to understand why there is somewhat of a gulf between childhood and adulthood, children with discretionary “income” and adults with record-breaking debt. We aren’t accustomed to easing ourselves into much.
While their parents are cycling through multiple major career transitions and many residences, adolescents are developing their ability to deal in abstractions at the same time that they are physically having their attention called to very concrete matters of engagement with the opposite sex–or with the same sex or both sexes if they are so inclined. Because of the relative novelty of their abilities with abstraction and the relative extremity of physical change and peer regard, adolescence may be the paragon of idealism. Rejecting parental influence in many areas, striking out on their own with others of their kind, rejecting others not of their social kind, they “get ideas”. In a culture of rebelliousness, that idealism may be more likely to be expressed in fairly radical ideas. In a culture of relative affluence, those radical ideas may not find a way into direct actions. Even one hundred years ago in this country, adolescents were most often expected to work, take care of younger siblings, and sometimes study. At this point, while their brains are developing into their full capacities of decision-making, impulse control, abstract thinking, planning, and other complex operations, we’re pushing increasing percentages into increasingly longer college programs.
The last two paragraphs are a lot of very general background, but I’ve selected the information I have in order to situate my next question: do we as a culture have a progressive vision for our nation? for adult development? I do know that we are taught in psychology programs that personality remains fairly constant across a lifetime, and I know that everyone eventually ages and dies. In our health- and youth-obsessed culture of whitened teeth, surgically increased busts, and fiscal quartiles, do we have a general understanding of maturation? It seems to me that the most prevalent message is that, by the time your brain reaches full capacity, our culture has little to offer, and you can expect that life goes downhill unless you can finagle your way into an executive suite or fall upon a winning lottery ticket. Of course, I’m exaggerating somewhat, but even such super-sizing may be considered part of our culture.
Okay, holy shit, how’d I get from artistry and intimacy to super-sized adolescence? I was thinking about change analysis. Imagine what it would take for adolescence to feel smooth and integrated with both childhood and adulthood. For some people, it already is. What sets them apart? Do they notice, or do they have the luxury of not needing to notice? We may be able to come at this from another angle. What makes a leader a leader? We can lose our awareness of individuality and think in really fuzzy terms if we lump everyone together. What makes a person’s individuality resilient? In his interesting book, The Madness Of Adam and Eve, besides talking about the interaction between bipolar disorder, schizophrenia, and creativity, David Horrobin points out that–in dominance pyramids–sociopaths tend to rise to the top. This also works in the other direction: when sociopaths rise to the top, they tend to create social organizations of pyramidal hierarchy. You see this on TV on the FBI shows where they’re trying to figure out who’s in the mob and who’s in charge. So some leaders are leaders because they are the most cunning, ruthless, and aggressive. Most mix aggressiveness with charisma and intelligence of some sort. Like Fidel Castro. Fascinating person, political giant, dangerous opponent. Al Capone was supposedly a very lovable guy if you weren’t sitting in front of him when he had a baseball bat in his hands.
I’ve had quite a few discussions about individuality and adult development that seem pretty muddled, partially because there is a lot to consider, but partially because we tend to hold openness towards multiculturalism as a value. With a lack of social agreement on who to hold up as role models of adult development, though, it seems that we muddle. I wanted to write a partial example of how this type of thinking can go (by sort of rambling across the last two pages), how there may be many important considerations to eventually include, but to also point out that a lack of clear direction from the beginning can keep us spinning our wheels. We sometimes feel we’re going somewhere just because the view changes, but I’m going to simplify the process in order to streamline the possibility of creating a shared sense of understanding. I wanted to point out that, sure, tons of things can be considered, but if we want to get to actual progress–rather than just a change of interesting scenery–we may have to include an idea of what progress is. I’m open to rearranging this idea or finding better ideas if they come along. As Mr. T would say, it’s time to stop the jibber-jabber. As Goldberg pointed out in The Wisdom Paradox, sometimes it is necessary to include enough complexity in order to find simplicity. Up until now, I’ve been trolling for enough complexity in order to get to the specific simplicity I’ve been looking for.
Here goes. When people are paid for their physical labor, management centers around managing how they can improve output based on that labor. With mechanization, management focuses on “scientifically analyzing linear systems to find ever greater efficiencies” (David Rock, Quiet Leadership, xx). This is the management paradigm that fits outdated 20th century academic power analyses. [Key point: outdated does not mean worthless; we forget at our own peril that fascism and communism developed largely as countermeasures to international investment capital; Marx’s theories are outdated and incomplete but not irrelevant. Outdated does not mean progressive, either, though. Many management practices and their analogous educational methods are outdated.] “By 2005, as a result of all this computerizing, outsourcing, and other process improvements, 40 percent of employees were considered to be knowledge workers. For mid-level management and above, that number is close to 100 percent” (xx). This is another major step in management paradigms, and 2005 is history.
The changes in the economy that herald what many business leaders are calling a “leadership crisis” also affect our educational system. Managing “knowledge workers” is different than analyzing linear processes in order to gain greater efficiency. In other words, the generation of radicals who ushered in one major paradigm change in the 1960s and 1970s are already behind the times if they are not rolling into the next paradigm change. It is hard enough to develop one major social change, let alone develop two. You see a similar difficulty at the end of successful revolutions. There is a need to solidify or structure the changes so that they don’t simply wash away. Fidel himself, as dictator, became the major political cornerstone of a “liberated” Cuba. In France, there was massive bloodshed following the revolution. In Cambodia, killing fields. Even Ho Chi Minh was unable to see the changes he wanted–although he did see the American military leave his country. In Iraq, we can remove Saddam Hussein, but helping Iraq “develop” is not so easy. This is why I want to contextualize radicalism in artistry and intimacy rather than revolution. At this speed of social change, in less than a generation, what was progressive becomes obsolete. How many Fidel Castro types do we want to set up at the tops of major pyramidal hierarchies? I’m not scared–I was trained in change by switching from Atari to Intellevision to Calecovision and on up–but I’m asking. Change has been part of life since before Heraclitus started mouthing off.
Revolutionaries have to be radicals in order to break out of existing, oppressive structures, but structure needs to exist in order for a society to remain viable. This is the basic rub that every teenager and revolutionary has to negotiate. Not too much change, not too little. How does our society do with negotiating proportion? We can choose medium, super-sized, stupid-sized, or super-stupid-sized. In a Keynesian economic framework, that works. Unfortunately, the downside of Keynesian economics is ecological exploitation, acting as if the Earth is infinite. With a focus on unmanaged, unlimited expansionary capitalism, we have the global equivalent of cancerous production (reliance on petroleum, holes in the ozone layer, diminishing fish populations, extinction and terrorism in the Niger delta, etc.) Keynesian advertising (great enough demand creates a supply) and overproduction work with that management system of linear processes and increased efficiency. Not only is this focus–driven by international investment capital: remember National Socialism, remember Che Guevara–stripping the natural environment, but with the demand for consumerism driving up the number of hours worked each week, this focus is stripping the social environment as well. Of course, control of the mass media in the hands of five boards of directors (who seem perfectly willing to not only play to the lowest common denominators but to drive those denominators lower) does not help communications in our public spaces, but absentee parenting is not helping our kids’ private lives whether you like traditional nuclear families or not. Is what I’m saying getting through? Problem analysis is important but outdated. Looking only at problems will not solve them. Progression comes with some new focus. If all we see is problems, it doesn’t matter whether we’re looking at our kids, at criminals, at neighbors, at the Mexican government, at our spouses, the environment, the world, our future, whatever. If that’s all you can see, don’t look at me. Our kids understand THAT message.
When the people who operate existing social institutions are willing to be oppressive in their power, they force radicalism. For instance, if you believe in the Patriot Act, you sanction having your phone tapped by your own government. That sounds KGB to me. I’ll go Biblical in response: where there is no vision, the people perish. This applies in a figurative sense. Entrenched bureaucrats stop seeing (dehumanize) people and watch numbers as they watch their soft asses. And then, in the literal sense, if we have no vision of how to move forward, we can pollute or explode ourselves to death. If the people as a people do not have a vision, their institutions only symbolize dead functions. It’s like being able to manage farmworkers on a mechanized farm–outdated. Cultural disorder. Our Congress recently said that our political leadership lacks “imagination”. We lack vision and leadership, and our “Representatives” can imagine whatever they want. When institutions do not symbolize and manifest vision, they fall back on authoritarianism. Authoritarianism begs revolution.
I’m near ranting here, but not quite there. The individual analogue to authoritarianism is personality disordering–unhealthy patterning that makes new problems and keeps the old. With personality disorders, the unknown is feared and the self-fulfilling cycle is between ignorant belief and fear. If someone fears failure, they try nothing new; in trying nothing new, their problems tend to either persist or increase. (The personhood of those people, then, perishes.) The beauty in that “paragon of idealism” period–adolescence–that we are not embracing is courage. Change takes courage, and when adults have no vision for young adults, they counsel discretion over valor. Discretion tempers but cannot replace valor. If you cannot feel this you are numb. Too “wise” by half. (Nagarjuna said it like this, “The wise do not dwell in the middle either.”) People fear courage for the same reason they fear passion–impulsivity. People fear impulsivity when they have not developed their spontaneity and balance. No, it is not that they are lacking in “discretion”; such fearful people do not know their own vitality. Personality disorder.
Another response to courage is distraction. Courage maintains attention; distraction disorders attention. Divide and conquer. When we don’t want other people to see what they will notice if they continue looking in some particular direction, we distract. Our culture is as extreme in distraction as it is in super-sizing. No one on the planet needs a 52 ounce cup of soda. When our young adults are developing the full capabilities that these marvelous human brains provide, we give them menial work (spun as expanding the service sector of the economy), abstraction (college–where 80% of course material is immediately forgotten), consumerism, and distractions. Chief Joseph said, “My young men will never work. You cannot work and Dream at the same time.” Is that kind of what our Congress meant by imagination?
My challenge is this: our young people are courageous; are we wise enough to be of benefit to them? We have our priorities backwards when adolescents are seen as a difficulty for us. Can we meet our children’s courage? Kids are smart. They learn more from what we do than what we say.
I think we are loosely conglomerating an answer, but with sufficient complexity of information, with a sufficient diversity of sources, I think it’s possible to achieve a new, specific simplicity–as Schwartz said, “...precisely honing the crude pattern to fit the demands of experience.” I don’t believe that haphazard good intentions are the best we can produce. I said I’d shoot for succinct and brilliant; well, here’s succinct. When we don’t appreciate where our kids are at, they get defensive. When we don’t appreciate where our representatives are at, they feel defensive. When we don’t appreciate our political and community neighbors, they start to feel defensive. This is why power analyses and tolerance will never finish the job that tolerance starts. We can’t avoid power analyses, but they divide. Tolerating across an ideological divide means waiting for the next perceived attack. How many parents watch for that from teenagers? Mine did. I just felt alienated. My teachers started that before my parents did. They knew my older brother, so I can’t blame them, but they didn’t help me out much with their defensiveness. Eventually, I thought to myself, “If they call you reaper, whet the scythe.” Notice that this is not a unique response. Therapists often get this from their clients, spouses trade attacks, et cetera, et cetera. Unnecessary boundaries reify power differences; power differences call for defensiveness; defensiveness breeds violence because we find what we look for.
Now, let me explain an experience differential. Step 1. I have more experience living my life than anyone else does. Native French speakers have more experience speaking French than I do. Michael Jordan has more experience playing basketball than myself and most native speakers of the French language. Everyone has more experience at something than everyone else. Step 2. There is a power differential between power differentials and experience differentials. Power differentials are usually harder to appreciate from the less side of the equation, most particularly when the more side people are entrenched and oppressive. So it usually ends up that the people on the less side of the differential end up doing the lion’s share of tolerating. Experience differentials are easy to appreciate from both sides of the equation. Of course, there’s a catch–there’s always a catch. Just as being a parent means you have more life experience than your kids, having more experience in any arena makes you more responsible for what occurs there. (Many people wish this were true for power differentials but it doesn’t matter what they might wish–in a behavioral sense–because power does corrupt, and the powerful often ignore responsibility.) But more responsibility is not the catch, it’s just par for the course. The catch with experience differentials is that it is easy to appreciate experience differentials when BOTH sides are willing to grow and learn. Step 3. If you are Albert Einstein pontificating on the subtleties of relativity, and your new students start asking questions about quantum mechanics, who’s teaching who? I’ll tell you who. When we’re dealing in power, teaching as something given from one to another fits. When we’re dealing in experience, distancing yourself from what’s occurring in the present by objectifying yourself or others reduces the quality of the moment you are SHARING. With experience differentials, teaching means something more along the lines of coaxing the most out of a situation. You can’t give experience to another person, but we all share in what everyone else experiences. What qualities do you bring? Step 4. With power differentials, we compare quantities. With experience differentials, we increase quality. Thus, whether we have more or less experience, a relevant question to ask our compadres is always, “What have you done for us lately?” Accountability in this situation is not punishment after-the-fact, but the willingness to honestly answer when asked. Step 5. There is no reason to hide qualities, but there are many justifications for hiding quantities. We share qualities: openness, oppression, dehumanization, nurturance, etc. We think of ourselves as owning quantities, but everything we have passes away. Ecological diversity is passing away. We, as a global phenomenon, do not own anything. Entitlement is outdated.
Because business is the cultural institution that tends to lead our culture, businesspeople are already talking about the “attention economy” and the “experience economy”. Is our education up-to-date? Mine is, but I accept responsibility for it and act accordingly. Are our politicians up-to-date? I don’t care whether they’re “hip” enough to play saxophones, do they know where they want to lead us?
I don’t have some sort of “disowned voice” or something extra to say. I point towards the silence. Yes, the end is coming. (What does that mean to you?) When we begin with intimacy, you don’t look for a way out. Emotional distance is a luxury item. By choosing luxury over intimacy, we destroy our world and ignore our potential. In the face of this destruction and ignorance, I say, “Barnacles.” If you hold onto dead-identity-entitlements and power differentials, you move us towards a deafening silence. If you hold onto yourself, you welcome a wonderful silence.
If your nationalism keeps us from sharing, I say, “Barnacles.” If your investment opportunities kill off songbirds that winter in South America, “Barnacles.” If my affluence is a barnacle, show me your scraper. I’ve got the courage. When I was an adolescent, my parents encouraged me to find my sense of individuality even when it was more difficult for me to do so. That’s helpful, but not necessarily a great sacrifice. When I was an adolescent, they encouraged me to find my sense of individuality even when they feared the consequences. That is greatness. When you give your future for others, you’re something else.
I’ve had a world class education, but I don’t want to teach, at least not in the sense of giving something away. I’m too curious and too wise. I’ve got something to give, but only myself. And when it’s gone, it’s gone.
What is your experience?
Copyright Todd Mertz