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| A Moment of Recognition: Everest Brown at Carlsbad Caverns National Park, Steve Brown |
It is 5:24 a.m., November 6, 2023. I have chosen to get up early to read scriptures and write. There have been many other mornings that I have chosen to remain in bed instead. Often, it feels like remaining in bed a few more minutes means absolutely everything and that I have no other choice. That, of course, is usually a lie my brain tells me to get what it wants, a lie that I'm oh so willing to believe.
John Steinbeck talked a lot about nonetiological thinking, is thinking--the act of attempting to separate what we want to believe from what actually is real. He acknowledged that this is difficult, perhaps impossible, because we are not only observers of reality; we are participants in reality. Objectivity, therefore, does not come easily.
Many years ago, I had a dream where I was questioning Christ about creation. More accurately, I was using rhetorical questions to argue that the facts established by science rule out any possibility of a God who could be intimately involved in each of our lives, let alone be our Savior. In a kind and loving but stern rebuke, Christ asked, "Who are you to think you can understand a system you are part of better than I, the creator of that system?"
I woke up realizing I'd never thought of that before. Ultimately, we can never fully understand creation while being mortal any more than a fish can understand all the stuff outside his fish tank that keeps him alive--such as the electrical socket his water pump and bubbler are plugged into, the distant power plant that feeds electricity, the trainloads of coal that feed the powerplant, or the plants and animals that died millions of years ago and were later compressed under great pressure to create the coal that ultimately keeps our little fish alive. He can never detect all this, no matter how intelligent he is, because most of what sustains him exists outside his realm of observation. In short, it is impossible to fully understand the tidepool in which you exist because you cannot get outside it to observe all that affects it.
Whether I simply had a dream or whether Christ actually came to me in a dream (which is what I believe), what that dream identified was essentially the same problem that Ed Rickets and John Steinbeck identified in trying to understand reality: how can we fully understand a system we are part of? I can analyze a story because I'm outside it. I'm not a player in it. How well would I do that though as a character? How does Coyote realize it doesn't matter what he does, he will never catch Roadrunner because of forces beyond his control when he can't get out of his own mind, his own desires, his own thinking? How does he identify his ultimate reality when he can't let go of his world view because of how closely he ties his identity to being a coyote, a pursuer and devourer of roadrunners? If he could but glimpse the negative loop that he's in, he could perhaps walk away and be free.
I have a strong suspicion we are all coyotes caught in loops of fixated beliefs and desires, fueled by untrue assumptions. One of those false beliefs is that we can trust our mind--that it is some stable, reliable processor of reality. That what we think actually is. We don't think that about others--just ourselves. It's the I-me mind, and it keeps each of us running around in our own reality.
I know I can't trust my mind. Or at least part of it. My stupid ego gets offended by the stupidest, unimportant crap ever, and if I'm not careful, I find myself getting defensive and justifying my behavior over the simplest things, making up wars in my head that don't exist simply because I feel I'm under attack. I swing into self-righteous mode, and the driver in front of me becomes an idiot, and the person at the drive-thru window is the most ignorant, rude ignoramus ever born, and I, the great purveyor of wisdom, must somehow set them right and make them realize their stupidity. I feel at that moment that honking that horn or making that comment is the most important thing in the world. A day later, those moments seldom enter my mind, and if they do, I certainly don't deem them worthy of wasting any time over them.
How then, can that mind be trusted?--when something so important one moment doesn't even pop up on the radar a day later. If you believe your brain is a trustworthy instrument to observe reality with, you are probably upset and angry at the world most of your life. Most of our brain is there to protect us; it is driven by fear; it is reactive. Only a small portion is receptive to actual thought. There have been those who've had near-death experiences who claim that they learned that the brain is a filter rather than a generator of thought. I'm not only open to that idea, I tend to believe it. It seems to me, so much of our thought is about protecting us from reality rather than immersing ourselves in reality. Our brain, untrained, removes us from the world rather than connecting us to it. It filters out the light. Love, which seems to be outside the brain, though the brain clearly is stimulated by it, seems to be what connects us to the world. Our empathy, not our intelligence, is what anchors us to reality through a recognition of oh yeah, that could just as easily be me.
If we believe that our brains cannot be fully trusted, that our initial thought, our gut-reaction, isn't necessarily accurate, then it opens up a world of possibilities not available through instinct. I personally believe I have a soul that has its own intelligence and that I can access that higher self through a small portion of my brain. My soul is that part of me which recognizes my connection to all things, that sees me as part of existence, rather than separate and superior. Whether this concept is accurate or not isn't so important. What is important is that it removes me from my instinctual self, which always reacts the in the same, predictable, often destructive ways, because it views everything as a possible threat, which limits my ability to think outside the box. It is this way with everybody.
Take Israel right now, for example. Collectively, their natural instinct is to punish Hamas, to rein justice down so hard as to wipe Hamas out of existence, no matter what the cost to Palestine, or ultimately themselves, because their need for revenge prevents them from any long-term, strategic questioning. For example, how many future terrorists are we creating each time an innocent civilian loses a loved one? They can't think anything through, because like me cut off on the freeway, their brains can only think retaliation. It is how we are naturally wired. It is our gut reaction. You hit me, and I'll hit back. But is it smart? And is thinking that you must retaliate for your own safety even real, as in is it a must? That is where our instinctual brain lies to us--it presents one option as the only option. It tricks us into believing we have no other choice. Up until the moment we die, we always have a choice. It is our one luxury in this world no matter what our circumstances. We can be put in a place where no matter what we do, the outcome isn't going to be favorable, such as being held hostage or living in a war zone, but we still have thousands of options as to how to react to that reality. We just instinctually don't believe it at the time.
When you begin to question your own mind, it does not lead to insanity. It does quite the opposite. It keeps you sane. Insanity is often defined as doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. Our instinctual brain feeds us the same limited options over and over again. We become Coyote in his quest to catch Roadrunner. Each time we go about doing the same thing over may appear to be ingeniously unique as we build the latest gadget to provide the greatest clobber yet imagined, but because we can't get out of our mind-loop, the outcome is ultimately the same over and over again, often with ever-increasing intensity. What will our future terrorists be like because of Israel's actions today? How can Israel possibly think Hamas did not calculate Israel's current reaction in their list of possible outcomes? It may not be the outcome they ultimately wanted, but it had to at least been considered as a possibility because it is the most natural reaction, the most obvious one. Whatever Israel is doing, it is not surprising Hamas, although Hamas may be somewhat shocked by the intensity of Israel's retaliation.
Now, what if Israel didn't trust their instinctual brain? What if, instead, they viewed the world with empathy? What if they saw Hamas's attack as a cry for help from Palestinians? What if terrorism was viewed as a symptom of some larger problem rather than as a foe? What if Israel thought outside the box, and did something truly unpredictable?
What if they had loaded up bomber after bomber with bouquets of flowers with "Sorry, we love you!" notes and dropped them on all of the Palestinian civilians? How much energy would that have sucked out of Hamas's hate campaign? Could it have undermined Hamas from within? Would the Palestinians have demanded their leaders release the hostages? Would it have created a space where both sides could have come to the table and began again that hard process of sharing the Holyland?
Who knows? It's possible. But Israel will never be able to gather that data because they never tried it. They got locked in an instinctual moment and responded in the most predictable way possible, and it is likely that Hamas, or whatever terrorist organization the Palestinians replace it with (as they likely will), will do the same. Like Coyote, we can be oh so clever in developing new ways to deliver blows, but if we can't remove at least part of ourselves from our instinctual selves, we are locked forever in loops of predictable outcomes without realizing we are fueling a plot that has no resolution if we continue playing the same old roles. We have to realize we are in the script before we can make a conscious decision rewrite our part with a better outcome.
You have to realize you are the fuel feeding the fire before you can cool things down and soften the burn.
That is what this book is ultimately about. The world is out of control--environmentally, politically, and socially. How do we cool things down and soften the burn?
And even if I don't have enough influence to do anything about it--how can I at least see things accurately enough to live well and make the most of the here and now in ways pleasing to my higher, spiritual self?--the only part of me that can or ever will be satisfied because that is the only part of me that sees myself connected to all things rather than separate and under attack. Happiness and separateness are incompatible emotions. One cannot be in competition, feel envy or jealousy, or feel superiority and feel true joy at the same time. Our instinctual selves see everything as a competition and therefore everyone is a possible foe. We are driven by fear, which locks us forever in a prison of our own making.
How do I remove myself from that, and live free, no matter what is happening around me? How do I enter a moment, through my own will, so profoundly that I see the beauty that radiates all around me no matter what the circumstances are? From my brief aware moments in the sun, simply absorbing its warmth, or in the shade, feeling a cool, gentle breeze, moments when I'm totally absorbed in simply existing, in taking in all that's around me, undistracted by thought--from moments like that, I do believe it is possible for a person to get to that place most of the time. I also believe that that place is the only place we can see clearly and that when in that place, all solutions come from a place of love and recognition that everything is connected.
The trick is, how do I become aware enough of the workings of my own brain that I make the choice to remain still? How do I see reality clearly enough that I open myself to multiple possibilities at all times rather than getting locked down in the same old repetitive actions that bring about the same old repetitive outcomes?
I'm not sure, but it is worth exploring.
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