31 August 2017
30 August 2017
We have a knowing self, a need-to-know, where thinking and its attributes takes place, and we have a compassionate self – a loving being – where the heart largely operates. These two selves should be clearly distinguished, partly because each operates best in its own dimension, but also because the knowing self works against the compassionate self – always tries to profit from what it knows – always imperialistic: territorializing and colonizing. So, rational thinkers – scientists, mathematicians, philosophers – remove the heart and its affects from their field of both operation and investigation because they know from experience that feelings cloud their thought processes, and artists largely suppress rational thought because they know that it reduces risk and creativity (a process they call negative capability). In Taiji, and most other energetic and spiritual disciplines, the ego/self is identified with the knowing and known, and as such is contained discretely in a confined cell of the humble mind's making. Then the compassionate self – the angelic self – naturally expands outward to connect and interact – play – with the energy it finds itself in the company of. In Taiji this is what we call Ward-off energy – energy drawn from our back by embracing arms that contain and imprison the consciousness. Two examples spring to mind: a class of Zen monks all facing the wall so that their backs commune compassionately, and Miles Davis who, in the late fifties was soloing with such concentration, refinement and sensitivity that he would turn his back to the audience, hunch over his trumpet and microphone, and flare energetically into the auditorium.
29 August 2017
28 August 2017
In order to see and hear with any degree of accuracy and precision we must learn to keep the head still, which means adopting certain physical tensions, especially in the neck. What this means – to cut a long story short – is that our minds end up strongly privileging solidity over fluidity, permanence over transience, stasis over motion, sameness over difference, habit over change, and we find ourselves living in a rigidly safe (and boring) world because the mind is like a spoilt child – what it wants it usually gets. But, of course, despite our best efforts – subtle or forceful – the world is not really like that so the mind is in a state of constant stress trying to force its world to behave the way it wants. Hence anxiety, hence stiff necks, hence sore backs.
"Faith is not about compliance without proof or the leap above proof. It is the act of the faithful person, an act which, as such, is the attestation of an intimate consciousness of the fact that it exposes itself and allows itself to be exposed to the absence of attestation, to the absence of parousia."
If I were truly relaxed whilst sitting in meditation then my head – the part of my body furthest from the cushion – would be gently swaying in the proverbial breeze. Without this natural movement the mind will not relax, will not take its natural shape and will not lose the forced clarity – the traces – of thinking and thought. Quietening the mind may start by removing its furniture, but eventually the room itself must be swept away by the fluid substance – the ocean – of pure mind.
27 August 2017
Why is the Other so important? Because the Other is exactly what I need. This fact indicates the structure of both Being and Reality, and proves that goodness exists as a/the major force in Universe. I am never complete, but always compleatable, if only I forget myself and wake up to what is staring me in the face.
26 August 2017
"From that first moment in the schoolroom at Chartres my secret, imaginative life began to be so important and so distinct from my outer life that I almost have to tell two separate stories. The two lives do not seem to influence each other at all. Where there are hungry wastes, starving for Joy, in the one, the other may be full of cheerful bustle and success; or again, where the outer life is miserable, the other may be brimming over with ecstasy."
Yielding in Taiji contains two components: deferential turning aside of one half of the body, and ushering through by reaching around with the other half. The same turn of the waist effectuates both actions simultaneously; the same turn of the mind creates both moods (deference and ushering) simultaneously. Imagine a school teacher standing in the middle of a zebra crossing, helping a train of ambling school children cross the road: one hand beckons the closest child and encourages it to pass to the other side as the other hand reaches behind that child to connect to the children yet to cross – the teacher turns and extends his arms along an effective timeline. And this example shows clearly the structure of a moment. It is not a discrete static parcel of time, but a passing through – an infinitesimal juncture between past and future, between coming and going – and the most effective way to deal with it is to divide your attention somehow between immediate past and imminent future. Much of Taiji training is learning to split your being into two parts: a conscious part that deals with what is ensuing now, what is passing, in a material concrete way, and an energetic part – emanating largely from the back – that connects with energy and spirit – subtle indications of potential materializations, of things yet to come. So, ward-off is a posture that limits and delimits the conscious extent within a shroud or cocoon of energy which the arms usher round from the spine. Like one of those cape-wearing superheroes whose cape, as well as shrouding them in mystery, also averts normal perception so that ESP can take over. The miracle of all this, from our perspective, is that it is the one action on our behalf that stimulates two seemingly opposite effects in our being. The same as when we sink and relax – that one humble trusting action releases both the body down to Earth and the spirit up to Heaven.
25 August 2017
24 August 2017
Double-weightedness (equal distribution of body weight between left and right sides) whether standing or sitting is a forced attempt to create an artificial unity and an unnatural sense of stillness and stability. This wouldn't be so bad if that stillness wasn't then used as a pretext for absent mindedness. It's really not a matter of being still or quiet anyway but of choosing not to be distracted by the inevitable noise.
23 August 2017
One morning last week, whilst in Sinai, we caught a cab South towards Nuweiba to spend the day at Little Head – next to Ras El Satan – where the reef and breeze are both better than where we were. The cabbie – a Bedouin boy who didn't look old enough to drive and probably wasn't – drove the whole way with his left hand on the wheel and his right palm facing up as though holding a delicate flame. I looked into his face and he was deep in prayer. He was remembering God. And this is the trick: never squander an opportunity to pray. The only antidote to forgetfulness is remembering. Become religious.
22 August 2017
My teacher was always giving me – as budding teacher – guidelines. One was that if a student hadn't got into serious practice within six months of starting Taiji, then they're never going to. Another was that serious work needs to commence before the age of 27. At this age, when most are establishing a career, starting a family, galavanting about the globe on ever more exotic and expensive holidays, the spiritually inclined student is starting the process of giving up the world for the sake of following and developing a relatively undistracted internal life.
As parents we encourage our children to try lots of different things in the hope that they'll find something they love doing – something that suits them really well. Then we just pray that they'll find within themselves the courage and fortitude to persevere, so that they become really good at something, at least. We know, from our own experience, that it is only by persisting through thick or thin – by driving through the inevitable barriers – that character and strength, inner and outer, are developed. And the more difficult the trials and tribulations along the way, the stronger one eventually becomes. This is the rationale behind all practice. So, for example, learning to play the piano well develops general character as well as a specialized skill, otherwise it would be a very limited and limiting use of time.
Experience brings wisdom. But, it is the experience of repeating the same practice, day in day out, to join the creative process of generating meaningful novelty by coming to the absolute unrepeatable uniqueness of the Now. Not the experience of trying lots of different things for a short time – that's just childish. The experience of depth that forever deepens, rather than surface that forever flattens.
21 August 2017
Happiness is an internal state – a function of internal quiet and centredness. Nothing whatsoever to do with the external state of affairs. Otherwise your happiness, which is purely your responsibility, would be at the mercy of circumstances always beyond your control. This is our peculiarly Taoist stoicism.
Most students nowadays are not students at all. They don't study – practice – all hours of the day. They don't respect the teaching. They don't even acknowledge that there is a teaching. They will smile and nod knowingly when you tell them something that pleases them, and they will protest and regard you with pity and contempt when you tell them something that threatens their cozy world view. They sincerely believe that ego will disappear just because they decide it should. They basically behave like spoilt brats – spiritual tourists. They know nothing of reality because for them knowledge is merely information gathered along the way. What they all have in common is that they want want want and so feel it is their God given right to take take take. They are exhausting.
Ever wake up feeling too tired, too rushed, too distracted to practise? A voice tells you that you can't possibly give it your best shot so why not wait till evening when everything's out of the way and you're more settled. Well that's Satan fighting back, filling your head with excuses to prevent any attack to his sovereignty of your being.
20 August 2017
Extend (frequency) range out of perception, out of comprehension. Down into deep time (infinite time) where span is but a blink – of no significance – and up to a high fizz (infinitesimal time) where spirit dances at seemingly infinite speed, and takes otherworldly shape. Otherwise we remain lodged in, and ruled by, the mundane rhythms of heart and breath, the tedious vulgar economies of the human mind.
The stone in the belly – focus and weight – where a quiet disciplined mind wants to settle, should more appropriately be called the plumb in the belly. That small ball of lead better suits the essential nature of dantien – its feeling of concentrated essence – its density and mass always pulling the spine into verticality. Taoism is heavily influenced by Chinese alchemy – the art of extracting essence from substance, from things. Imagine the early chemists' amazement when they discovered that when certain rocks from the Earth were crushed and heated very hot, a trickle of dense shiny liquid appeared which cooled into metal with all its remarkable qualities, not least its ability to be fashioned into jewellery and weaponry. The very concept of essence – the idea that things have an essential nature somehow independent of external character and form – is the foundation of our concept of the Internal.
Quiet mind is not just quiet; neither is it inactive, nor passive. It is centred, anchored ruthlessly in dantien, so that it can intend – move energy, clearly and effectively, by stretching wherever it needs to go. This is good tension (the correct use of the word). The only reason for bad tension would be if the mind stopped being quiet and the resulting anxiety caused you to tighten up in an effort to hold things together and get things done. This is actually quite a complex and difficult procedure, and could only possibly be learnt if placed at a very young age in an environment saturated in chronic anxiety. Sound familiar?
19 August 2017
We must ask ourselves why the mind is so dominant, so lordly and all-knowing. Is it because it is virtuous and strong or is it because the heart has become weak and unsure, no longer capable of standing up for itself, in which case mind is little more than a schoolyard bully. The mind, the self, needs to be taken down a peg – made to know its place – then heart can find its place, its space, to open up and flourish. Mind and heart should be clearly distinguished otherwise they trespass into each others territory and confuse each other. When distinguished they can happily do what they are designed to do – approach and obey spirit, each in its own wonderful way.
A few days ago, whilst in Sinai, I met someone who had just holidayed in highland Laos. "How was it?" I inquired. "O it was wonderful! Totally unspoilt by tourism." Mmmm, I thought, so now you can claim to be one of the first spoilers of Laos, as I can claim to be one of the last spoilers of the fragile Sinai reef which is tragically disappearing at a rate of knots.
18 August 2017
17 August 2017
It's really very very simple. Jesus lives in your heart, Satan in your head. Whom do you love the most? If you say the heart (the centre of which is always God, whichever way you look at it) then invest a little time each day proving it, because the rest of the time you're confirming the opposite. And if you refuse this challenge then you're full of shit.
14 August 2017
Always aware of the medium we breathe and move through, the forces that operate (especially gravity) and the passage of time. This is humility, or what The Cloud of Unknowing calls imperfect meekness, imperfect only because it is not the be all and end all. Perfect meekness is the spark and dance of spirit within this mindful continuum which your bountiful compassion triggers and stimulates. Humility only comes with subduing the Adamic ego – heroically tackling original sin.
13 August 2017
12 August 2017
11 August 2017
Woke up this morning with a phrase in my head: "Irrevocably touched by the absolute reciprocity of touch." As I lay and mulled it over I remembered the first time I encountered that beautiful word 'reciprocity.' It was in a poem by Wilfred Owen which ends with the phrase – The eternal reciprocity of tears – tears being a sensitive response, the only response, to touch, to being touched.
10 August 2017
09 August 2017
My teacher, like many teachers, would sometimes liken the spiritual journey to climbing a mountain. He would always quip that it wasn't climbing the mountain that's difficult but what you do when you get to the top. I don't know about that. Is all I know is that whenever I dip into Philip Gröning's Into Great Silence, which I do regularly, I never fail to realise that I haven't even reached the foothills let alone the mighty ascent.
Happiness is a deep internal state (calling from the cold mines beneath my sanity) completely unaffected by whether the world is pleasing or displeasing. And when you touch this state then you give the world the greatest gift – spiritual grace.
Remember when we were kids, school holidays were anticipated eagerly as the term drew to a close, and then enjoyed immensely once they arrived. And, being selfish children, we instantly assumed that because we enjoyed them then our parents did so too. It's only on becoming parents ourselves that it begins to dawn on us that school holidays filled our parents with exactly the same dread that they fill us. Well the situation is pretty much the same as spending time with your teacher. You assume that because her company is so beneficial and enriching for you then your company must be the same for her, when, in actual fact, the chances are she can't bear the sight of your selfish face nor the thought, let alone the presence, of your demanding, whinging ego. The teaching she offers is then whatever she feels you need to work on to make your company bearable. What she gets from the encounter is the opportunity to humbly cast aside her distaste and practice hope.
At some point the work inevitably becomes difficult, heartbreakingly so. If it didn't then it wouldn't be work, it would just be a pastime, a hobby. Most students, at this point, either give up or, worse still, use the force of their ego to constantly drag the work back into familiar territory every time it threatens. Soon they become such experts at this that the teacher stops correcting them – effectively stops teaching – a situation that is far worse for the teacher than it is for the student who has effectively turned the tables. Those that refuse such manipulations (which are always conscious) continue the work with redoubled effort. When the going gets tough the tough get going.
Therapy aims to heal and rehabilitate a wounded ego so that the individual can effectively function within society. Spiritual work aims to purify the heart and soul so that the individual can affectively commune with God. Clearly these are not the same. Not even close. They operate on completely different dimensions. Modern therapies get rid of soul by inventing models that don't include one, and spiritual work struggles to get through and beyond ego. Therapy builds you up, spiritual work crushes you down.
08 August 2017
07 August 2017
I remember, many years ago, reading an interview with an elderly guitarist. The interviewer asked him if he still practised, to which he replied, aghast at the question, "Of course!" The interviewer then asked why, given that he was still gigging so was hardly likely to lose it, and, given his age, wasn't likely to technically improve either. The guitarist simply said, "Because I love practising."
Without a practice regime, established over time under the experienced guidance of a master, exposure to great teaching can do nothing but feed a probably already inflated ego. Such 'students' waft and drift around in a haze of smug self-satisfaction – spiritual and experiential materialists to a tee – until the shit hits the fan, which it inevitably will, by which time, of course, it's probably too late to sincerely change.
The work is never easy. If it appears so it is probably because it has been subsumed into ego. This is inevitable in some way and is why you must have a teacher – she will help wrench it out and put you back on the path. And this is why there is always an element of dread associated with both teacher and teaching – they are guarantees of suffering.
06 August 2017
05 August 2017
Dr Chi, my Taiji grandpa, is on my mind a lot lately. Largely his religious turn – his wholehearted embrace of Jesus when it became clear to him that Taiji could take him no further – but also his light intelligence and humour, which is clear to see in his Form as well as his open face. I remember my teacher telling me that the first time he stayed for any length of time with Dr Chi in Taipei it began to dawn on him that given his present state of progress it would take him about 200 years to reach his teacher's level, so he asked Dr Chi, somewhat despairingly, how one progresses, to which the master replied, quite simply, "Somehow."
You know what it's like: some days you just don't want to go into work. You may be tired, hungover, grumpy, or just plain sick to death of the tedium. But you know you don't really have a choice, you need a roof over your head and food to eat so you steal yourself out of bed, shower (already feeling better), dress (that's smart), quick coffee (just what you needed) and then out of the door and on your way. And by the time you arrive the early morning blues are forgotten and you click into the job. Well it's exactly the same with coming to practice. It's always difficult and daunting, but for the sake of your soul – your real life – you steal yourself away from distraction and just get on with it. And without this daily grind – this beautiful act of faith – there is no real character development. You remain, internally, at worst asleep and at best an over-pampered child. "You are truly blessed to know you have no choice."
03 August 2017
02 August 2017
In order to push up with any force I must also push down – for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. The same principle holds with statements of authority – as soon as I propose something with any degree of force then its opposite immediately enters the picture as a necessary possibility. This is the Taoist model of reality – a dance of yin and yang rather than a declaration of yin or yang. Reality is positive and affirmative rather than conditional. But to join it – to become real – the work needs to reduce my conditionality – ego – to nothing.
"For the love of God." The beauty of this phrase is its ambiguity – there is no clear indication whether the love mentioned is my love for God or his love for me – and so, in its utterance, these two loves become one, or at least resonate intimately. When I love with any degree of truth and authenticity – selflessly – then it is really God loving through me.