We all know we’re living through one of the craziest, most dangerous times in recent or maybe all of human history. I keep asking myself, what am I missing? What more could I do? Where is it all going?
We understand mostly by placing one moment in the context of time and memory, by discerning implications and possible futures. But so many of the possible futures being predicted by the news, social and intellectual media are too dismal to consciously consider. Maybe we can help change the future we are seeing by changing how we think about the the present we are living.
I am drawn here to a book I mentioned in an earlier blog, The Socrates Express: In Search of Life Lessons from Dead Philosophers, by Eric Weiner, and his chapters on two philosophers not often paired together: Simone Weil and Mahatma Gandhi.
The chapter on Simone Weil is about “How to Pay Attention.” Our culture is hooked on speed⎼ and speed, according to Weil, is the enemy of attention, careful consideration, and even joy. Due to the speedy pace of our lives, we can lose so much. We can get caught in, addicted to this repeating cycle, speeding up to catch what is speeding by. And what makes this even worse is the pandemic, added to the injustices, lies, shocks and constant chaos manipulated by DJT and his allies to undermine our sense of stability and our belief in democracy.
Desiring is not the problem. The problem with desire is that we can lose ourselves in it, lose even the object we desire in the desiring itself. It robs our attention. A heroin addict doesn’t crave heroin, Weil argues, but the experience of having it. Even more then heroin, the addict craves the relief of the mental and physical agony of not having it. Buddhist teacher, author, philosopher David Loy explained that desire, craving can cause us to feel we are lacking, wrong, powerless, or deficient.
The Latin roots of patient are suffering and endurance. When we are more patient, we feel stronger, more in control. We can endure even suffering, and find ourselves happier, clearer in mind, calmer in heart. We can be present in the moment, and thus feel more open to what might come.
And then we pay better attention to what or who happens. Weil shows us that inattention is in fact selfishness. When impatient, we reduce others to what we can get from them. When patient, others are fellow travelers who teach us about our own journey.
When impatient, we focus on the fruits and yoke action to results. When patient, we make progress even if there are no visible fruits.
And how do we fight, now, for our rights, our freedom, and our world?
Gandhi was the father of the movement to free India from British rule and establish an independent nation. He believed he must try to root out the disease of oppression even if it meant suffering hardship himself. He fought against bigotry, hatred, and greed. But mostly he fought to change the way humans struggled against or with each other. Against the violence we do to each other and our world.
Too often we turn away from confrontation out of fear or a sense of powerlessness. But by avoiding small confrontations today we face bigger ones tomorrow. But how do we confront what must be faced?
One great source of inspiration for Gandhi was the Hindu spiritual epic poem, The Bhagavad Gita. The Gita is a dialogue between the great warrior, Prince Arjuna, and the god Krishna. Arjuna is faced with a battle and his opponents include people from his own family. He does not want to kill. Gandhi saw the poem as depicting an inner struggle that takes place in each of us, the struggle to find what truly motivates us to act, and who we truly are. To refuse the call to action can bring great ruin.
The poem explains 4 different yogas or paths, including Karma Yoga, the yoga of work and action. Effective action is not done out of promotion of ego, or attachment to results. In fact, the Gita says: “you have a right to your actions, but never to your action’s fruits. Act for the action’s sake.”
In a philosophy class I taught years ago, the class read sections of the Gita and the students, like most of us, had difficulty with it. “Why not be concerned with the fruits of your actions?” they asked. “When we do something well, don’t we deserve praise?”
“What is meant by the fruits?” I asked. And: “Whose fruits are they?’ We discussed why act at all? Why fight against war or racism? Is our action worthy only if we’re successful? If we center only on whether we are patted on the back or stop the war, what happens when the war goes on longer than we thought? What happens when we have to face those who disagree with us or face people we love but who don’t act to support our cause?
Maybe we should act just because the action needs to be taken.
A similar viewpoint was expressed by New York Magazine writer Rebecca Traister, when she spoke out about the Supreme Court anti-abortion ruling. She said the message people might repeat that things will be ok despite the ruling is an anesthetizing message. We must face the injustice and act, no matter how frightened we are or how much we worry that our efforts will not bear fruit. Even if we’re not immediately successful, we build on each of all our efforts toward a better future. “We must use hope not as a feel-good measure. But to regard it as a tactical necessity and a moral and civic responsibility.”
To right any wrongs in the world is difficult. So, to persist, our actions must arise out of understanding our own essential oneness with the world, or that we are never separate from it.
When social action is perceived and felt as personal as well as political transformation, it is easier to face what is difficult. If actions are contemplated with empathy and compassion, more people will join in, thinking will be clearer and more creative. We can’t create, for example, a more compassionate world by acting without compassion. We and our world awaken together.
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