I've been thinking about Nan's comment on my previous post on Pema Chodron, "...I think our lives would be poorer without this [narrative] impulse: it seems so much a part of being fully human."
I've often joked with colleagues and students about the Buddhist doctrines of no-mind, non-conceptual wisdom, and other cognitive transcending terms, asking (rhetorically): if Buddhists really value "not-thinking" why have they composed an unwieldy amount of texts? For instance, in one Tibetan edition of the Buddhist canon (Derge) there are 103 works attributed to the Buddha himself and 213 canonical works of Indian masters and commentaries; for those of you who are mathematically challenged ;) that's 316 rather massive volumes. Not to mention the countless biographies of important Buddhist figures (I just received the latest one: a complimentary copy from the publisher, a biography of the Dalai Lama, _My Spiritual Journey_). So much for conceptual transcendence....
Our compositional impulses, be they narrative, philosophical, or commentarial, seem to be at odds with the goal of attaining a non-conceptual mode of awareness. I've addressed this and related issues before in a philosophical vein (if at all interested, see my article: "Language, Conceptualization and Awakening: On the Paradox of Discourse in Classical Indian Yogacara." I'll send e-copies on request), so no reflections of a theoretical or abstract nature here.
My musings on Nan's comment led me back to Deiryu's enso (zen circle) above; perhaps our narratives (OK, even ones infused with self-pity...) are like the bamboo, a transient, local, and ordinary manifestation in the open field of emptiness (reality). And yet, despite its ordinariness--or because of it?--the simple bamboo adds something to reality; perhaps stories, too, do the same thing, opening us up to experiences of aesthetic pleasure, or of suffering and triumph (Invictus anyone?), something resonant with our condition as human beings, all within the "space" of this moment. I don't know if the Buddhists are correct about us coming back again--you know, rebirth--but for now we are here, in human form. Maybe we should embody our narrative impulses in order to fully experience this life, for like the water in a cracked pot, our life is "leaving us" moment-to-moment, however imperceptively.
Finally getting to comment on this. Yes, please send your article, John. And what you say about narrative making us more fully alive makes sense, at least to my experience. And those cynical narratives (like bad Hollywood movies) that are created only to reproduce an empty form don't provoke empathy; they only produce anxiety. (This, too, is why the young don't recognize cynical narrative; it's like hearing a faint echo of a symphony, not understanding what it would be like to hear all the parts fully.)
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