Poems I Journey With 7

1. I remember one of my former students once exclaiming "Huh, families!" in quiet desperation. He had simply felt smothered by his.  On another occasion I remember an older colleague remarking about his first marriage that he had married a family not an individual. Freud spoke about the Oedipus Complex, that is, his theory, the validity of which is often hotly debated still, that there is a complex of emotions aroused in a young child, typically around the age of four, by an unconscious sexual desire for the parent of the opposite sex and a wish to exclude the parent of the same sex. (He had applied the term originally to boys but Jung and others applied the term also to girls and designated it by a new title, namely the Electra Complex.) However, let's not get too bogged down in terminology for its own sake. What I simply wish to point out here is how complex the relationships within any one family are in actuality.  As we grow up we initially model ourselves on our same-sex parents, then we begin to pit one against the other, and as we further age we begin to grow away from them as we enter our adolescent years and finally we then break to a greater or lesser extent those ties that bind us to our family of origin as we form new families of our own.  All of this intense relational interaction causes a complexity of joy and pain, little clarity and much confusion for all concerned.  However, that is the price we must pay for growing up.

   
   

   Having given this brief introduction to the complexity of our inter-relationships within our families of origin, I wish to present the reader with two poems in which the respective authors look back rather critically on how their parents reared them.  As many have often remarked parenthood is often simply thrust upon us by necessity, rather than by foresight or planning and that it is one task for which none of us has really ever been properly prepared in the first place.  I remember when I was in my late teens arguing with my mother and saying to her in a fit of anger that I had never asked to be born. Indeed, it was a dreadful thing to say, and had I even thought about it I would have realised that neither had she either.  Indeed, recently I was sitting with some friends looking at some little birds feeding at a seed feeder in a garden when a magpie came up and chased the little ones away.  My friend Mia remarked that the magpie while a somewhat ugly and repulsive bird was "just another of God's creatures that had never asked to be born." Here I was reminded of Heidegger's phrase that we humans experience a sense of "dasein" or "thrownness" into existence. Indeed, for me this is exactly what my friend Mia was expressing.  The two poems I offer the reader in today's poetic reflection are poems that speak essentially about that existential condition of our thrownness (random as it is) into existence.  No wonder the first action of any child is to cry out in fear at the feeling of new being in an alien world.

   
   

   Our first poem is called "This Be The Verse" by Philip Larkin (1922-1985), a poem which I have seen used quite profitably in a counselling session and "Sorry" by R.S. Thomas (1913-2000)  They are two poems that are very provocative and necessarily so, as we often need to be confronted by such reality! I believe they have much to teach us insofar as they may help us come to grips with ourselves and our relationships with our mothers and with our fathers. I will offer them below as a diptych without commentary by way of comforting the disturbed and disturbing the comfortable.

   

   Philip Larkin, librarian and poet 

   
   

                                     This Be The Verse

                                         Philip Larkin

   
   

   They fuck you up, your mum and dad.

   They may not mean to, but they do.

   They fill you with the faults they had

   And add some extra, just for you.

   
   

   But they were fucked up in their turn

   By fools in old-style hats and coats,

   Who half the time were soppy-stern

   And half at one another’s throats.

   
   

   Man hands on misery to man.

   It deepens like a coastal shelf.

   Get out as early as you can,

   And don’t have any kids yourself.

   
   

   Sorry

   R.S. Thomas

   
   

   Dear parents,

   I forgive you my life,

   Begotten in a drab town,
   The intention was good;
   Passing the street now,
   I see still the remains of sunlight.
   
   It was not the bone buckled;
   You gave me enough food
   To renew myself.
   It was the mind's weight
   Kept me bent, as I grew tall.
   
   It was not your fault.
   What should have gone on,
   Arrow aimed from a tried bow
   At a tried target, has turned back,
   Wounding itself
   With questions you had not asked.
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   R.S. Thomas

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Thoughts on the Tau Te Ching 6

Poem 6

The Tau is called the Great Mother

empty yet inexhaustible,

it gives birth to infinite worlds.

It is always present within you:

You can use it any way you want.

Commentary

The mother always has a central place in the life of all offspring, animal or human for obvious reasons.  Consequently, most cultures and religions have feminine gods as well as male ones. The act of physical birth is central to  life, and birthing also has its close psychological counterparts in the personality itself.  There is also a growing body of research that shows that babies in the womb feel, taste, learn, and have some level of consciousness.

The Blessed Virgin: an example of the Mother archetype

Chronic anxiety in the mother before birth can set the stage for a whole array of problems later: complications of birth, miscarriage, death, anxiety and/or depression in the child after birth and so on.  The opposite is also true, thankfully, and when a mother is feeling healthy and happy she produces the hormone oxytocin that is often called the molecule of belonging. The presence of this component creates feelings of bonding and strengthens the immunity in the baby. The message imprinted on the baby's brain through stimulated neurotransmitters communicates a sense of safety and peace, care and security. (See HERE)

Another example of the Mother Archetype

The famous psychiatrist Carl Gustav Jung invented the concept and term archetype.  In brief, an archetype may be defined as a representative model or universal example of something.  He saw them as essentially the basic elements or contents of what he termed the collective unconscious.  In essence, this means that they are symbols of abstract spiritual needs that are often projected onto other people to help individuals understand the world in which they live and grow and die.  The mother archetype that we often encounter in our dreams can be experienced as the archetypal nurturer or carer on the one hand or as a mother who abandons her child on the other - in which case the dreamer encounters an archetype with exaggerated flaws and complexes. This archetypal mother plays a dramatic part, consequently, in much storytelling, mythology and lore, and as a result also exercises an important role in psychology and psychotherapy.

Another important image associated with motherhood is that of womb which also exercises a central role in human psychological development.  It is interesting to note that the Latin word "matrix" originally meant "womb" and that it comes from the same Indo-European root that gives is the following words: "mother," and "mater" and other equivalents.  

Further, it is also interesting to note that a womb-tomb theme has been explored for instance in a recent archaeological book on the Newgrange Passage Tomb here in Ireland: Newgrange: Monument to Immortality (The Liffey Press by journalist, photographer and amateur astronomer Anthony Murphy.) In Irish archaeology we also find ancient carvings in stone called Síle na Gig (or Sheela na Gig or Sheila na Gig).  These ancient carvings are of women with exposed genitalia and are, interestingly and unusually, found in churches, usually near the doorway, and also in castles.  However, they are not erotic carvings as such as the women portrayed are old and are certainly not glamorous and some hold their genitals apart while others seem to be screaming.  Also, these Síle na Gigs are not unique to Ireland and they are also found throughout Britain, France and in some parts of Germany. One theory put forward for these carvings is that the Sheelas represent goddesses of birth and fertility and are pre-Christian artifacts in spite of their being found in churches which were in fact pre-Christian shrines or temples before they were Christianized.

Sile na Gig from Kilpeck Church (Hereford)  England

One way or another the archetype of the mother and the centrality of the image of the womb to civilization shoots through all cultures so it is not surprising to see them as being central to Taoism.  

I will finish these reflections here with a line that resonates with the above Taoist poem from the psalms of the Bible (also poems): "A prince from the day of your birth on the holy mountains; from the womb before the dawn I begot you." (Psalm 110).

Thoughts on the Tao Te Ching 3

Tao Te Ching

Poem 3

If you over esteem great men,

people become powerless.

If you overvalue possessions,

people begin to steal.

The Master leads

by emptying people's minds

and filling their cores,

by weakening their ambition

and toughening their resolve.

He helps people lose everything

they know, everything they desire,

and creates confusion

in those who think that they know.

Practise not-doing

and everything will fall into place.

Commentary

In the above poem not-doing equates to being.  Traditionally, in most philosophical and spiritual traditions, there has been a polarity set up between being and doing.  In the Christian Scriptures there is the lovely story of Martha and Mary that refers to an episode in the life of Jesus which appears only in the Gospel of Luke, and can be read immediately after the Parable of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:38-42). 

Icon of this Lucan story: See HERE

In this story Mary sits at the Lord's feet listening (that is, a metaphor for contemplating or meditating or praying or simply being in a state of reverence for the holy) while her sister was anxiously doing preparations so that the welcomed guest (the Lord Jesus) would have all the generosity the household could offer (that is, action or doing). All traditions of spirituality recommend a balance between both, while in this Biblical story Jesus tells Martha that Mary has chosen the right course of action in this case, that is, not-doing, meditation, contemplation or prayer.  Once again, and it bears repeating, that all traditions emphasize the balance between both and how both are necessary to good spiritual practice.  However, there are, of course, stories that emphasize either one according to the intentions of the author at that particular time to get his message across.  All Scriptures, whether Christian or Taoist or Buddhist or Hindu have to be taken on balance.  There is nothing as bad as Scriptures used to prove a polemical or didactic point without an appreciation of context, good scholarship and that elsewhere in the same Scriptures that there are other balancing texts giving a different perspective on the question but never necessarily being self-contradictory.  That's why a knowledge and understanding of polarities or binaries or opposites is so crucial to our spiritual journey. Doing and Being are both important aspects of the Doing-Being polarity.  (For readers with an interest in graffiti here is an interesting article on the origins of the graffito joke: To Do is To Be - Socrates, To Be is To Do - Aristotle and Do Be Do Be D0....  - Sinatra: Quote Investigator ).

What is appropriate in life is obviously BALANCE.  All good mainline spiritual traditions recommend such balance.

Avoidance of Extremes

In keeping with the notion of balance the above poem opens with a call to the reader/meditator to avoid extremes.  Over-esteeming some people, our author poet argues, disempowers others.  Over-valuing possessions leads people to steal.  The question of over-valuing is an interesting concept in itself.  We all too often hear of the polar problem of undervaluing.  Indeed, it is interesting to follow this line of argument philosophically and spiritually.  Moot questions would be: Is it possible to over-value human life?  Is it possible to over-value humankind's place in the world? Is over-valuing anything, including ourselves, a mark of our ego-driven ambitions and sheer hubris? These are all questions, not statements, of course.  In this regard, I firmly believe that what the Physics Nobel Laureate Richard Feynman said is totally correct, that we should "..... rather have questions that can't be answered than answers that can't be questioned."  However, a good pilgrim on the path to self-knowledge or spiritual-awareness will know that it is the balance between the extremes that counts; that it is the healthy tension set up between the poles that is important, not either pole in itself.  Over long years of spiritual questioning and questing, I have become enamoured of how close theoretical physics can be to spirituality.  As the great nineteenth century theologian John Henry cardinal Newman used say: no truth from any area of knowledge can contradict another truth from another area if it is to be the truth at all - this, in short, is axiomatic or foundational to all knowledge or truth. 

Emptying and Becoming Empty

These notions are central to most mainline religions also.  The believer has to empty himself or herself of his/her EGO, pride, hubris and all other lesser attributes so that they can become receptacles or vehicles or conduits of the divine.  In meditation and prayer in all traditions, the seeker has to empty his/her mind of distracting thoughts and baser desires. Even if we are not religious qua religious or spiritual qua spiritual in the specific sense, we are all spiritual in a general or generic or psychic sense.  There is always much in us that has to be healed, or made whole in the process of Integration of the self (Anthony Storr et al) or in the process of Individuation (Jungian Analysis), or in the process of Self-Actualization (Carl ransom Rogers and Abraham Maslow) or in that Self-realization (general). In spiritual terms, if we belong to a specific religious or spiritual tradition we might call it an emptying in order so we can be filled by the divine.  In a sense, of course, these are all human words that stretch language to breaking point in an attempt to describe a religious or spiritual experience.  For Christian believers, St Paul advanced the notion of the kenosis undergone by Jesus Christ in order to save the world.  As a discourse on this Christian concept is beyond our needs here, please refer to the following links if you wish to read about it: WIKI  and  Theopedia. 

There is throughout the Tao Te Ching,  then a call to humility, a call to declaring first our ignorance before going on our spiritual way.  Please note how close this is to Socrates' call to all who would wish to be philosophers or followers of what is true to first declare their ignorance and that knowledge will follow from there by a process of radical questioning of all our thinking.  St Augustine, the fifth century A.D. philosopher and theologian maintained that even with the aid of Christian revelation that divine knowledge was so far beyond our ken in this world that the most we could achieve, after all our intellectual and spiritual travail, is merely what he termed a "docta ignorantia" or learned ignorance.

Meditation:

Read the above poem again and let whatever line or  phrase or word jump out of the text for you and repeat it in your mind slowly like a mantra.  Then close your eyes, centre yourself and meditate on those words for five minutes.

Namaste, friends!

Journal of a Soul 75

Of Living and Dying

"Live in the Now" - that's the lesson of Meditating on Death

“None of us gets out of life alive” is a quotation that remains in my mind.  I even remember the occasion of my first hearing it way back in the early 1990s.  I was listening to a radio programme by the Irish journalist Colm Keane on the subject of “Death Row” in some penitentiary in one of the southern states of the USA.  Our intrepid journalist interviewed a convicted murderer, who was placed behind a protective glass screen.  I remember that this man showed absolutely no remorse for the murders he had committed and saw life as being just a sort of game which one played; a game where it did not matter if one broke the rules as long as one got away with it.  In fact, the prison guards called him, “the animal.”  I remember the hair standing upright on my neck as I listened to this cold, unfeeling, rational, and obviously very intelligent man, express his thoughts and feelings on the crimes he had committed and on life in general. However, he expressed in eight short words the very heart of the human predicament – our temporality or our transitoriness on this minuscule planet that is a mere dot in the infinity of space. This state of affairs, when it hits home in the thinking and feeling and self-conscious human being, is exactly what we mean by the adjectives “existential” or “existentialist.” In short, our mortality lies at the heart of what essentially existentialism boils down to.

Freud used to say that the real repression in humankind was that of the base sexual desires that were deeply rooted in the dark pit of the unconscious.  However, Jung and others since have pointed out most wisely that the ultimate or real repression is that of death.  In one sense, this repression is a survival mechanism.  After all, the denial of death allows for egocentric humankind to push forward against all opposition – coming from either others or nature – to amass property, wealth and acquisitions of all kinds.  One might say, in quite a convincing sense, that all culture is created in the face of death – a sort of myth of significance and permanency in the teeth of the very impermanence and transitoriness of life itself.

Daffodil, Easter 2014

Here is where a philosophy of life comes in on the one hand and where the spiritual and religious traditions on the other have had some insightful things to say.  Admittedly religions in their more structural, authoritarian, hierarchical and indeed forbidding senses have been all too doctrinaire in their tenets and often murdered many who opposed them throughout the course of history.  However, here I am referring to a more devotional and spiritual model or aspect of such religions.  It is arguable that when religions lose vital contact with what the philosopher Eric Voegelin, called their “engendering experience” (or spiritual source or originating vision) they become monolithic, heartless and forbidding structures capable of dehumanising others.

The novelist, literary critic and professor of philosophy Umberto Eco opined that we read literature to learn how to die.  That notion is perhaps a bit one-sided.  I prefer to say that we read literature in order to learn how to live and die.  Living and dying are, in fact, the two sides of the one coin and are somehow paradoxically inextricably linked.  To be a living being is to be a dying being.  Essentially, death and dying are consequences of The Second Law of Thermodynamics or of the results of what’s called entropy.  A thorough understanding of this concept is beyond me as I have little background in Physics, but I can grasp some of its intentions and implications.  To my mind, Walter E. Requadt explains entropy very well for the ordinary person in the street in his wonderfully thought-provoking and stimulating blog called “The Happy Iconoclast” by invoking “Murphy’s Law”:

Unless we constantly insert new energy into a house by maintaining it, painting it, repairing it, the structure will eventually but inevitably be levelled to the ground. Its molecules will move from a lower level of randomization, from structure, to a higher level of randomization, towards unstructured debris.

Entropy is the reason why paint peels, why hot coffee turns cold. Furthermore, entropy is the reason why investments have a pre-ordained inclination to go sour -- unless we enhance success by inserting into the investment system additional energy in the form of strategy, work, calculated risk or other forms of energy. Entropy ensures that sugar, which becomes more randomized when it is dissolved in water, will not reconstitute itself in the crystalline form -- unless we apply heat energy from outside the system and evaporate the water.

Wherever we look, whatever we do, we must be acutely aware of the immutable laws of thermodynamics, especially the easily overlooked Second Law: Entropy. This fundamental law of physics ranks with other fundamental manifestations of the universe such as gravity, time and electromagnetism.

Anything that can go wrong not only will go wrong, it must go wrong, as decreed by the Second Law of Thermodynamics. (See here: The Happy Iconoclast)

To say that we humans die is to say that we like the entire flora and fauna of the earth are subject to the inevitability of the various laws of the universe, and most essentially to the law of entropy.

Along similar lines, Stephen Hawking told his biographers (Stephen Hawking: A Life in Science by John Gribbin and Michael White, 1992), who had once been Ph.D. students under his direction, that he had never succumbed to anger at life when he was stricken down with motor-neurone disease because essentially life was just chance anyway, and that it all boiled down to the randomness of nature – that is, to the chances involved or the probability of one’s parents meeting and then in the combinations of genes allocated by nature to your particular embryo.  These were, to say the least, random.

Professor Stephen Hawking

While Hawking likes to style himself an atheist, this stance is quite akin to that of a Buddhist spirituality (which some say is not religious anyway) that states that all suffering is caused by our attachment to things animate and inanimate.  All meditation practices and wisdom learnt therefrom and from study, and indeed from life in general, all help us to break free from such suffering by learning detachment. In other words, this is the implication of what is known as the Four Noble Truths of Buddhism that can be stated in simple terms as:

1.  Suffering exists: dukkha. (Life is unfair essentially, with much chance involved – Hawking’s position)

2.  Suffering arises from attachment to desires. (Wishing that things were different – that I shouldn’t get Motor Neurone disease and so on). It is called either samudaya or tanha in the various traditions and is the vain desire to have and control things. 

3.  Suffering ceases when attachment to desire ceases. (When I cease to be attached to unfulfillable desires or even fulfilled ones). The end to suffering is called nirodha. It is achieving Nirvana, which is the final liberation from suffering. The mind experiences complete freedom, liberation and non-attachment. It lets go of any desire or craving. It is an attaining of dispassion.

4.  Freedom from suffering is possible by practicing the Eightfold Path

It is important to note that in the Eastern religions, to meditate on dying and death is no mere negative action.  Nor is it a particularly morose one.  Only at first sight does it appear to be such.  Once one has meditated on either dying or death one comes from one’s sitting with a renewed commitment to living life more fully, and more especially living it more fully in the now.  To realise that truly life is fleeting and that we all end up either “six feet under” or being cremated is to deeply realise that the only answer is to live life more fully, more intensely by being aware of the sheer importance of living fully in the now.  After all, now is all we have.  In a sense, neither the past nor the future exists because the first has ceased to be and the second has not yet come.  In a deeper sense, all that exists is the present moment or the now.  In fact, conscious life is just that – an awareness of the abiding present or the passing now. (Or, as I look at these previous words anew, why not write "the abiding presence of the passing now"?

Picture of a Poppy I took April 2014

 Meditating on dying and death should never bring us down into the pits of despair because its real message is to deeply value and live in the enduring present.  Obviously, I don’t mean by this combination of words that everything stays the same or that nothing changes.  What I mean is that we only can really live in the now of time as it moves – that’s what I mean by the enduring present.

We read in the Tao Te Ching:

If you realise that all things change,

There is nothing you will try to hold on to.

If you aren’t afraid of dying,

There is nothing you can’t achieve.

Trying to control the future

Is like trying to take the master carpenter’s place.

When you handle the master carpenter’s tools,

Chances are that you’ll cut your hand.

(Tao Te Ching, verse 74, Lao Tzu, translated by Stephen Mitchell)

In summary, then, we have two choices and the choice recommended by all spiritualities worth their salt is to choose life not death everyday of our lives by practicing living in the now.