When someone out of envy does me wrong By insulting me and the like, May I accept defeat And offer the victory to them. –Eight Verses for Training the Mind, Langri Thangpa (1054–1123)
When I first saw this excellent ad, before it closed with a message about Jesus, I was sure it was a Buddhist ad campaign, even though I didn’t think that was a thing (it’s not).
The verse above is from Eight Verses for Training the Mind, a classic text of Tibetan Buddhism. The central aim of mind training (lojong) is to rid ourselves of self-importance. From that, all of our best will unfold.
Whether we are aware of it, all of our religious traditions promote this. For theistic traditions, it is that we are less important than God. For non-theistic traditions, it is that we are less important than other people.
If God gets you there, good. If the teachings of Jesus get you there, good. If the teachings of the Buddha get you there, good. If non-religious philosophy gets you there, good.
You may note that some who comment on this believe that God or Jesus or whoever want us to be warriors, so losing is not an option, in fact is blasphemy. How is that going?
Did you know that the CDC (Center for Disease Control) has a museum and that the museum includes a COVID-19 Timeline?
It is a summary reminder of the calendar of the worst days of the pandemic. At some point that felt like it would never get better or end, even though the worst days took only two years. (“Worst” being relative, since the effects still linger and the disease is now endemic.)
Remember Trump?
When you cross-match Covid and Trump, you find some interesting things.
Trump was first in office during the early days, though even then he demonstrated a known tendency toward absurdity not grounded in reality. For example, his suggestion of injecting bleach as a treatment. We don’t know what would have happened if Trump had been in office during the later worst days, but based on what we know now, we might still be seeing federally-funded bleach injections for a range of diseases.
The big point is that the worst days of Covid are behind us, thanks to scientific advances and to to a large number of citizens willing to treat it as the public health disaster it was. We have used the very human ability to selectively forget and move on, which in proper proportion is a psychically good thing, as long as it doesn’t get in the way of handling the next potential pandemic.
There is no official museum with a Trump Timeline. If the disease of Covid peaked in late 2022, Trump has not peaked yet. He is still with us as a pandemic, though hopefully not endemic. We continue to promote public information and vaccines, which ultimately worked for Covid.
If we had not found a way through the pandemic, the devastation would have been staggering and still ongoing. We will get through this lingering and still uncontrolled disease, if we have the will and find a way.
“Mendacity is the enemy of man, and yet more and more love is lavished on guile and lies. Truth is homeless in our world.”
A World of Phantoms
For most of us, life is a series of evasions, pretensions, substitutes, and rationalizations. We do not see the world as it is but as a projection of ourselves, and so we are prisoners of delusions that hold us in their spell even after we become aware of their deceptiveness. Gradually pretensions are converted into certainties, rationalizations become entangled, and madness sets in.
So many people become salesmen of their delusions. So few people are fully conscious of the non-finality of our here-and-now world.
In analyzing and discussing problems of Jewish Law, possible solutions are often advanced in the Talmud with the introductory words, “I might have thought,” “I might have been led to believe.” After proving that these arguments are mere suppositions or hypotheses, a conclusion is usually reached.
One must learn to understand thoroughly the precise meaning of these phrases, Reb Bunam said. For the world in which we live is a mere supposition or hypothesis. The conclusion is still to come. “At that time I will change the speech of the peoples to a pure speech, that all of them may call on the name of the Lord and serve Him with one accord” (Zephaniah 3:9).
How did the Kotzker, who was consumed with a passion for veracity, for eternity, look at people whose whole life was spent serving spurious goals?
Falsehood is not merely a discrepancy between what is said and what is meant. It twists and distorts the basis of a man’s life, deceiving him into believing he lives in a reality that does not exist. A person living a lie and taking it to be the Truth moves in a world of self-delusion.
Falsehood is not just a stigma that sullies man’s thinking. A healthy life consists in knowing what one wants, seeing an ultimate goal ahead, and hoping to reach it by means of clearly understood actions. And mendacity is a disease that binds a man’s entire existence. As a result of it, our perceptions are false. We regard as real what can be measured and controlled; what defies measurement and control we reject as irrational and unreal.
In Jewish mystical literature the world here and now is called “the world of falsehood”; each grain of truth may be surrounded by shells of falsehood. Our truths are often half-truths, acquired piecemeal and preserved precariously, their only refuge being the lips of a few dying men. For so many people die for the sake of a lie. So many who profess truth really shun it. Their solemn proclamations are often veiled deceptions.
This is what Abraham did. He forsook community and deception to live with Truth in solitude.
Genuine solitude is the prelude to a new community. However, if you do not withdraw but remain part of “the world,” your supreme effort must be not to deceive yourself. Clearly one of man’s strongest inclinations is to deceive himself.
People do not know whether they are alive and where they are. The world abounds in misrepresentation—lives without design, movement without aim, roofs without walls. They think they dance, yet they are paralyzed. Delusion holds them enraptured. They feel so comfortable in the clutches of their self-deception that when Satan himself embraces them, they think he is in love with them.
Mendacity is the enemy of man, and yet more and more love is lavished on guile and lies. Truth is homeless in our world. We suffocate for lack of honesty. As a result, man dies while yet alive. Who can speak of resurrection when life itself has become death?
Coarse and swaggering, men make insolent speeches and engage in presumptuous dealings. But they are dead, while Truth, though buried in the grave, is alive. Sometimes a voice cries out from underground, and a few isolated individuals sigh and weep.
When a man does not delude himself, he does, at the least, recognize the world’s falsehood. As long as he believes that his delusion is ultimately coherent, that his conceits have final meaning, he lives in a realm of phantoms. Though idle, he is convinced of his achievements. Even as he lies dying, he persuades himself that he is alive.
Each person should wrestle with this question: am I living in a world of phantoms? Is my life, are all my concerns mere delusions?
At the time of World War II, superhero comic books were growing in popularity. Even more so in the following decades.
A big question emerged: Why didn’t Superman just end the war quickly? He certainly could have.
The answer is obvious, even to those who admire him. He is a comic book character. Like all great characters of myth and fiction, he may exist as an all-powerful ideal in the psyche, spirit and imagination, but not in the real hard world.
We are thankful we do have human heroes in dire situations, and that is exactly how the force of evil was vanquished in World War II. In the overall social and political sphere, once in a while we do find individuals who can help “bend the course of history with their bare hands.” But we shouldn’t count on it.
Instead, as deep into undemocratic evil as we are sinking, what we have are very human politicians, which means that some will try their best, or what they think is best, which may not be enough. If we are waiting for Superman, or superheroes, or just heroes, know this: they are us.
We are as gods and might as well get good at it. –Stewart Brand
When Stewart Brand birthed the Whole Earth Catalog in 1968, a version of this motto appeared in the introduction to that first issue: “We are as gods and might as well get good at it.”
WEC was an exercise in what we might call Human General Intelligence. It covered literally everything and everyone on earth and in the universe. It was aimed at getting readers—all of us—aware of everything and everyone, so that we could get on an enriched and enlightening learning and acting path of knowledge and ability about anything and anyone.
In a nutshell, that is what AI offers. AI is not “as a god”, though from a certain perspective it may look to some that way. We are “as gods” with it at our command, and not since putting world-destroying weapons in human control has that been clearer.
Think about the last time, or all the times, you used AI. Would you consider that a godlike experience, or was it a matter—not illegitimate, no judgment—of taking an easier and more convenient way to pass a school assignment or complete a work task? Not that there is necessarily anything wrong with that, maybe. But if with AI at your side you might be “as a god”, is that all you plan to do with it?
Note: That first issue begins and ends with two of my greatest inspirations, Buckminster Fuller and the I Ching. It may not be enough to know their Biggest Picture view of life and the universe and our place in it, but it is a start. What would they/do they think of AI?
Hey now, baby Get into my big black car I want to just show you What my politics are
Cream’s Politician, from Wheels of Fire (1968), is not the most sophisticated song ever about politics. Still, the message has never gone out of style. For those who don’t know Eric Clapton and Cream, the rest of the album and the earlier Disraeli Gears (1967) are worth hearing.
Hey now, baby Get into my big black car I want to just show you What my politics are
I’m a political man And I practice what I preach So don’t deny me, baby Not while you’re in my reach
I support the left Though I’m leaning to the right But I’m just not there When it’s coming to a fight
Hey now, baby Get into my big black car I want to just show you What my politics are
It is worth analyzing this post from five years ago.
Some of it seems right. Republicans back then saw Trump as a way to get the things they wanted but that seemed, in a slowly enlightening America, out of reach.
What I got wrong was this: “They [Republicans] are holding their fire as they wait for the emergence of a smarter, smoother, more attractive demagogue.” What they and we got is an increasingly less attractive and less stable demagogue.
“All they [Republicans] want is a captain to steer the ship of state in the right direction—one who isn’t quite so problematic and crazy. Next stop 2024.” Right direction? Not quite so problematic and crazy? Be careful what you wish for and enable. 2024 happened and the next stop is now.
Note: The following was drafted in early January, days after the invasion of the Capitol, days before Trump officially left office. Having just reread the draft, I believe it still has merit.
The conventional analysis of elected Republican politics goes something like this:
Most of the elected Republicans stuck with Trump even during his most heinous days—through active support or silence—because they feared the electoral wrath of him and his base. Their prime directive was to stay in office. Not a profile in courage or integrity, but a simple path anyone might understand if not condone: keep your job.
The actual story is more like this:
Many elected Republicans believe that the only future for America is one in which the forces of progressivism—even moderate moves toward equity and fairness—are turned around. They initially opposed and criticized Trump. But once they had to accept him in power, they saw that he could be useful for that plan. Yes, his behavior in office was extreme and distasteful. But it was a small price to pay for restoring America to its former glory.
So while Trump and his conduct are more reprehensible and toxic than ever, we read this headline from the Washington Post, days after the storming of the Capitol:
“Republicans largely silent about consequences of deadly attack and Trump’s role in inciting it.”
Of course they are largely silent. They are holding their fire as they wait for the emergence of a smarter, smoother, more attractive demagogue. Where, for example, is George Wallace when you need him?
So Republicans remain patient and, with some exception, silent or equivocal. They never wanted an invasion of the citadel of American democracy, nor did they want anyone to be killed. All they want is a captain to steer the ship of state in the right direction—one who isn’t quite so problematic and crazy. Next stop 2024.
Hope is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul, And sings the tune without the words, And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard; And sore must be the storm That could abash the little bird That kept so many warm.
I’ve heard it in the chillest land, And on the strangest sea; Yet, never, in extremity, It asked a crumb of me.
Emily Dickinson, Hope Is The Thing With Feathers
The storm in America is sore.
Those of us who know American history well, who understand how American government works, who have seen it in some of its worst days, want to maintain a sense that all things must pass.
But some of us who want to see a way past the current circumstances are having trouble assembling a vision of that path.
People have confidence in the checks and balances cleverly built into American democracy, and they are right to be impressed. You cannot say enough about the brilliance of the Constitution, the platform for history’s most durable and successful democracy.
But the founders and the Constitution presuppose sufficient people, particularly leaders, of the highest qualities. The list of those qualities is long and obvious. Honest, knowledgeable, capable, intelligent, brave, selfless, compassionate, just, on and on. There was never any expectation that America would be led by saints, just that when people and matters of government got out balance, other people and matters would step up to make it right.
There has never before been a time when it seemed there were not enough of those people with those qualities at the highest levels. We had no idea what happens to the elegance of constitutional America in those circumstances. Until now.
America—the America that knows and believes in the Constitution, American history, the rule of law, the system of checks and balances—must continue to plan and strategize a way past. But mere confidence that this is just one more difficulty that will be dissolved by electoral democracy, time, and the American spirit, may be misplaced. Which leaves us with hope. That thing with feathers, singing its tune.
A river flowed right through the middle of Chelm. It occurred to several merchants that a bridge over it would be good for business on both sides of the river. But some of the younger people objected. They said: “Of course it would be nice to build a bridge, but let’s not do it because it would be good for business; we should build it solely for aesthetic reasons. We’ll be glad to contribute to the building expenses for beauty’s sake, but we won’t give a penny for the sake of trade.” Still others, even younger people, said, “A bridge! That’s a good idea, but not for the sake of trade or beauty but to have someplace to stroll back and forth. We’ll be glad to contribute money to build a bridge for strolling.” And so the three groups began to quarrel, and they are quarreling still. And to the present day Chelm does not have a bridge.
There are many Yiddish folktales from Eastern Europe about a town called Chelm. In these stories all the people of Chelm are fools, though they all think they are smart.
Not a day goes by when I don’t think about Chelm and learn something, particularly about the news of the day.
“The Shakers were celibate, they did not marry or bear children, yet theirs is the most enduring religious experiment in American history. Seventy-five years before the emancipation of the slaves and one hundred fifty years before women began voting in America, the Shakers were practicing social, sexual, economic, and spiritual equality for all members.”
The Shakers (they called themselves the United Society of Believers in Christ’s Second Appearing) have few followers remaining. They are well-known in the twenty-first century for two things: their arts and crafts—most famously Shaker furniture—and a song.
The song is Simple Gifts. You may have heard the familiar melody (used by composer Aaron Copland in his Appalachian Springs Suite) and you may have heard the words:
‘Tis the gift to be simple, ’tis the gift to be free ‘Tis the gift to come down where we ought to be, And when we find ourselves in the place just right, ‘Twill be in the valley of love and delight.
When true simplicity is gain’d, To bow and to bend we shan’t be asham’d, To turn, turn will be our delight, Till by turning, turning we come ’round right.
Below you will find a selection from Appalachian Springs Suite, with Copland’s variations on Simple Gifts, and a description of the Shakers from Ken Burns’ documentary series The Shakers: Hands to Work. Heart to God.
Even with all the complications we’ve had before, it is possible this is as complex a time as we’ve had. It is the gift to be simple, at least for a while.
From Ken Burns’ The Shakers: Hands to Work. Heart to God.
They called themselves the United Society of Believers in Christ’s Second Appearing, but because of their ecstatic dancing the world called them the Shakers.
The Shakers were celibate, they did not marry or bear children, yet theirs is the most enduring religious experiment in American history. Seventy-five years before the emancipation of the slaves and one hundred fifty years before women began voting in America, the Shakers were practicing social, sexual, economic, and spiritual equality for all members.
The Shakers were ordinary people who chose to give up their families, property, and worldly ties in order “to know, by daily experience, the peaceable nature of Christ’s kingdom.” In return, they were welcomed into “holy families” where men and women lived as brother and sister, where all property was held in common, and where each participated in the rigorous daily task of transforming the earth into heaven.
Shakerism was founded by an illiterate English factory worker named Ann Lee. Guided by divine visions and signs, she and eight pilgrims came to America in 1774 to spread her gospel in the New World.
At their height in 1840 more than six thousand believers lived in nineteen communal villages from New England to Ohio and Kentucky. Tales of their peaceful and prosperous lives impressed the world’s utopians. But Shaker aspirations were divine, not social or material. As millennialists, they were unified in the belief that Christ had come again, first in the person of Mother Ann and subsequently “in all in whom the Christ consciousness awakens.” It was therefore the duty of each believer to live purely in “the kingdom come” and to strive for perfection in everything he or she did.
Work was the currency of their service. If the world was to be redeemed and restored to God, the Shakers would accomplish it by the dedicated labor of their hands. They believed that God dwelt in the details of their work and in the quality of their craftsmanship. All their devotion, which no longer went to family or home, was put into what they made. Their villages were meticulously constructed and maintained, their workshops were world renowned for reliable goods, and their gardens provided amply for their own needs, with plenty to spare for the poor.
Shakerism is a system which has a distinct genius, a strong organization, a perfect life of its own, through which it would appear to be helping to shape and guide, in no small measure, the spiritual career of the United States. — Hepworth Dixon, 1867
For more than two hundred years Shakerism ran alongside American history, sometimes heralding things to come, usually reflecting trends, events, and ideals from a slightly different angle. The Shakers arrived in America on the eve of the Revolution, having left England in pursuit of freedom. They were gathered into order as a practicing religion in 1787, just as the new United States found its form with the drafting of the Constitution. That same year Shaker women were officially given equal rights, and in 1817 the Shakers’ southern societies freed the slaves belonging to members and began buying black believers out of slavery. The Shakers were suddenly appreciated as successful communitarians when Americans became interested in communities, as successful utopians when America hosted a hundred utopian experiments, as spiritualists when American parlors filled with mediums and with voices from other worlds. They invented hundreds of laborsaving devices from the clothespin to the circular saw, which they shared without patents (some of these machines launched brilliant industrial careers for the men who borrowed them), nor were they frightened of useful inventions. The New Hampshire Shakers owned one of the first cars in the state and rigged up electricity in the own village while the state capital building was still burning gas. They were admired and derided, imitated for their successes and ridiculed for their eccentricities. And they are enduringly appreciated for their contribution to American crafts and architecture.
Today, just a few Shakers still live in a single village in Maine. To all appearances these are the last Shakers. But the living Shakers faithfully assert that their religion will never die. Mother Ann predicted that Shakerism would dwindle to as few members as a child could count on one hand, and then overcome all nations. “This is God’s work,” says Sister Mildred Barker, “and what could bring that to an end? Nothing that we humans, that mortals do.”
