Stephanie Booth's online ramblings
Sur le joueb de Lise, on hésite à passer aux navigateurs “version récente”:
Quand il n’y avait que Netscape 3 et IE3, c’était facile…
Mais maintenant, même en faisant les choses (son p’tit HTML) proprement, allez obtenir les mêmes effets de couleur et de forme sur des pages web, sur tous les navigateurs et surtout toutes les versions des navigateurs… Vous pouvez vous accrocher! Et pourtant, on peut dire que je suis rodée à ce “jeu” charmant et on peut le dire palpitant.
Many people interested in Japan or the martial arts have certainly read Zen in the Art of Archery by Eugen Herrigel. Fewer are those who have equally read Yamada’s very interesting article titled The Myth of Zen in the Art of Archery (Japanese Journal of Religious Studies, 2001, 28/1-2).
Before reading Yamada’s article, I had always taken Herrigel’s account pretty much at face value. When you consider the impact of Herrigel’s book on our understanding and interpretation of martial arts, what Yamada puts forth will definitely make one think.
Eugen Herrigel’s “Zen in the Art of Archery” has been widely read as a study of Japanese culture. By reconsidering and reorganizing Herrigel’s text and related materials, however, this paper clarifies the mythical nature of “Zen in the Art of Archery” and the process by which this myth has been generated. This paper first gives a brief history of Japanese archery and places the period at which Herrigel studied Japanese archery within that time frame. Next, it summarizes the life of Herrigel’s teacher, Awa Kenzo. At the time Herrigel began learning the skill, Awa was just beginning to formulate his own unique ideas based on personal spiritual experiences. Awa himself had no experience in Zen nor did he unconditionally approve of Zen. By contrast, Herrigel came to Japan in search of Zen and chose Japanese archery as a method through which to approach it. The paper goes on to critically analyze two important spiritual episodes in “Zen and the Art of Archery.” What becomes clear through this analysis is the serious language barrier existing between Awa and Herrigel. The testimony of the interpreter, as well as other evidence, supports the fact that the complex spiritual episodes related in the book occurred either when there was no interpreter present, or were misinterpreted by Herrigel via the interpreter’s intentionally liberal translations. Added to this phenomenon of misunderstanding, whether only coincidental or born out of mistaken interpretation, was the personal desire of Herrigel to pursue things Zen. Out of the above circumstances was born the myth of “Zen in the Art of Archery.”
Yamada Shoji, The Myth of Zen in the Art of Archery (Abstract)
What people don’t understand is that you can be Jewish without being Zionist. You can be Jewish without approving of the politics of Israel. And that is the position most of us find ourselves in.
She said this a few months ago, and I’ve been wanting to make a note of it ever since.
It struck me as very important to remember—especially as I find myself guilty of abusive generalisations from time to time. I just hadn’t thought of this issue in those terms before that. Not that it didn’t make perfect sense once it was said, of course.
La colère, ça sert à demander ce dont on a besoin.
J.-F. H.
How to create an authentic community, which provides a sound basis for the emergence of a culture while optimizing individual freedom, may be the single most important question facing those practicing the dharma today.
One of the strengths of religious Buddhism is its ability to respond unambiguously to this question through continued establishment of hierarchic institutions which have weathered centuries of turmoil and change. While such institutions may provide excellent settings for sustained training in meditation and refection, it is questionable whether they alone can provide a sufficient basis for the creation of a contemporary culture of awakening. The democratic and agnostic imperatives of the secular world demand not another Buddhist Church, but an individuated community, where creative imagination and social engagement are valued as highly as philosophic reflection and meditative attainment.
An agnostic Buddhist vision of a culture of awakening will inevitably challenge many of the time-honored roles of religious Buddhism. No longer will it see the role of Buddhism as providing pseudoscientific authority on subjects such as cosmology, biology, and consciousness as it did in prescientific Asian cultures. Nor will it see its role as offering consolating assurances of a better afterlife by living in accord with the worldview of karma and rebirth. Rather than the pessimistic Indian doctrine of temporal degeneration, it will emphasize the freedom and responsibility to create a more awakened and compassionate society on this earth. Instead of authoritarian, monolithic institutions, it could imagine a decentralized tapestry of small-scale, autonomous communities of awakening. Instead of a mystical religious movement ruled by autocratic leaders, it would foresee a deep agnostic, secular culture founded on friendships and governed by collaboration.
Stephen Batchelor, in Buddhism Without Beliefs, pp. 114-115 [end of book]
[emphasis mine]
Instead of creatively realizing their freedoms, many choose the unreflective conformism dictated by television, indulgence in mass-consumerism, or numbing their feelings of alienation and anguish with drugs. In theory, freedom may be held in high regard; in practice it is experienced as a dizzying loss of meaning and direction.
Part of the appeal of any religious orthodoxy lies in its preserving a secure, structured, and purposeful vision of life, which stands in stark opposition to the insecurity, disorder, and aimlessness of contemporary society. In offering such a refuge, traditional forms of Buddhism provide a solid basis for the ethical, meditative, and philosophical values conducive to awakening. Yet they tend to be wary of participating in a translation of this liberating vision into a culture of awakening that addresses the specific anguish of the contemporary world. Preservation of the known and tested is preferable to the agony of imagination, where we are forced to risk that hazardous leap into the dark.
Stephen Batchelor, in Buddhism Without Beliefs, p. 110
[emphasis mine]
This passage reminded me of one of my French linguistic classes a couple of years ago. We were talking about autobiography—and to what extent our lives are constructed. Reflecting on our personal history is a way to give meaning to it, thus creating the narrative of our life.
I find it interesting how Batchelor puts forth the contingency of who we are. We often spend time thinking or worrying about the “determined vs. acquired” debate: am I something determined from the start, or am I a blank slate on which life and experiences have imprinted something? I think it is incomplete to put the question so simply: we are also what we make ourselves, at the same time cause and consequence—and this is an important point in the exerpt reproduced below.
And we too are impressions left by something that used to be here. We have been created, molded, formed by a bewildering matrix of contingencies that have preceded us. From the patterning of the DNA derived from our parents to the firing of the hundred billion neurons in our brains to the cultural and historical conditioning of the twentieth century to the education and upbringing given us to all the experiences we have ever had and choices we have ever made: these have conspired to configure the unique trajectory that culminates in this present moment. What is here now is the unrepeatable impression left by all of this, which we call “me”. Yet so vivid and startling is this image that we confuse what is a mere impression for something that exists independently of what formed it.
So what are we but the story we keep repeating, editing, censoring, and embellishing in our heads? The self is not like the hero of a B-movie, who remains unaffected by the storms of passion and intrigue that swirl around him from the opening credits to the end. The self is more akin to the complex and ambiguous characters who emerge, develop, and suffer across the pages of a novel. There is nothing thinglike about me at all. I am more like an unfolding narrative.
As we become aware of this, we can begin to assume greater responsibility for the course of our lives. Instead of clinging to habitual behavior and routines as a means to secure this sense of self, we realize the freedom to create who we are. Instead of being bewitched by impressions, we start to create them. Instead of taking ourselves so seriously, we discover the playful irony of a story that has never been told in quite this way before.
Stephen Batchelor, in Buddhism Without Beliefs, pp. 82-83
[emphasis mine]
I’m still reading Buddhism Without Beliefs by Stephen Batchelor; more quoting for your enlightenment (hopefully):
It might be that all I can trust in the end is my integrity to keep asking such questions as: Since death alone is certain and the time of death uncertain, what should I do? And then to act on them.
[…]
A reflection like this does not tell you anything you do not already know: that death is certain and its time uncertain. The point is to consider these facts regularly and slowly, allowing them to percolate through you, until a felt-sense of their meaning and implication is awakened. Even when you do this reflection daily, sometimes you may feel nothing at all; the thoughts may strike you as repetitive, shallow, and pointless. But at other times you may feel gripped by an urgent bodily awareness of imminent mortality. At such moments try to let the thoughts fade, and focus the entirety of your attention in this feeling.
This meditation counters the deep psychosomatic feeling that there is something permanent at the core of ourself that is going to be around for a while yet. Intellectually, we may suspect such intuitions, but that is not how we feel most of the time. This feeling is not something that additional information or philosophy alone can affect. It needs to be challenged in its own terms.
Reflective meditation is a way of translating thoughts into the language of feeling. It explores the relation between the way we thing about and perceive things and the way we feel about them. We find that even the strongest, seemingly self-evident intuitions about ourselves are based on equally deep-seated assumptions. Gradually learning to see our life in another way through reflective meditation leads to feeling different about it as well.
Stephen Batchelor, in Buddhism Without Beliefs, pp. 31-32
[emphasis mine]
A citation about agnosticism that I really agree with.
Right, I’ll post this post before I dive back into google, amazon and library sites. Bibliography research on the net for one’s dissertation can be quite as addictive as chatting, you know?
Agnosticism: I often hear people say they are “agnostic”, and on digging a bit, they come around to saying that they “vaguely believe in something, not quite sure what, but don’t belong to any religion”. That is not agnosticism. Some sort of deism, maybe, but definitely not agnosticism.
Here are a few paragraphs written by Stephen Batchelor, in his book Buddhism Without Beliefs. They aren’t the final word on what agnosticism is, but I what he says makes a lot of sense to me.
The force of the term “agnosticism” has been lost. It has come to mean: not to hold an opinion about the questions of life and death; to say “I don’t know” when you really mean “I don’t want to know.” When allied (and confused) with atheism, it has become part of the attitude that legitimizes an indulgent consumerism and the unreflective conformism dictated by mass media.
For T. H. Huxley, who coined the term in 1869, agnosticism was as demanding as any moral, philosophical, or religious creed. Rather than a creed, though, he saw it as a method realized through “the rigourous application of a single principle.” He expressed this principle positively as: “Follow your reason as far as it will take you,” and negatively as: “Do not pretend that conclusions are certain which are not demonstrated or demonstrable.” This principle runs through the Western tradition: from Socrates, via the Reformation and the Enlightenment, to the axioms of modern science. Huxley called it the “agnostic faith.”
[…]
An agnostic Buddhist eschews atheism as much as theism, and is as reluctant to regard the universe as devoid of meaning as endowed with meaning. For to deny either God or meaning is simply the antithesis of affirming them. Yet such an agnostic stance is not based on disinterest. It is founded on a passionate recognition that I do not know. It confronts the enormity of having been born instead of reaching for the consolation of belief. It strips away, layer by layer, the views that conceal the mystery of being here—either by affirming it as something or denying it as nothing.
Such deep agnosticism is an attitude toward life refined through ongoing mindful awareness. It may lead to the realization that ultimately there is neither something nor nothing at the core of ourselves that we can put a finger on. Or it may be focused in an intense perplexity that vibrates through the body and leaves the mind that seeks certainty nowhere
to rest.
Stephen Batchelor, Buddhism Without Beliefs, pp. 17-19
I’m reading his book following a class I went to last semester on “American Buddhism”. I’m not a Buddhist, nor do I think that Buddhist teachings have specially more value than any other. I’m hoping to write a bit more on Buddhism in the west shortly, though – as it is definitely
related to my dissertation topic.
At many points in my procrastinator’s life, I’ve had an inkling this was the way to go.
All procrastinators put off things they have to do. Structured procrastination is the art of making this bad trait work for you. The key idea is that procrastinating does not mean doing absolutely nothing. […] The procrastinator can be motivated to do difficult, timely and important tasks, as long as these tasks are a way of not doing something more important.
John Perry, Structured Procrastination.
Look at what I’m doing now: I have exams to prepare, laundry to do, piles of books to read, a website to update. And I’m writing for my weblog. Writing for my weblog is definitely not a high-priority task. But on the other hand, over the past year or so, I’ve started to gain a reputation for being an active weblogger, worth reading by some.
Now, this doesn’t mean that I’m going to stop fighting my procrastination. Actually, one of the reasons I’ve been “going the wrong way” lately (ie. refusing commitments) is very precisely because I’m trying to get to the root of my procrastination. I’m inching nearer each day, actually. But on the other hand, when I’m deep in it, I might as well do something useful, mightn’t I?
[link from Glenn, again!]