Sermon 28 - This sermon does not exist: Being, nothingness, and transcendental meditation

Sermon 28 - This sermon does not exist: Being, nothingness, and transcendental meditation

Exodus 3:14

I am that I am.

Say to those of my people,

"I am" has sent me.

I am depressed.  I have to stop in at the mental health office every week to reassure them that I haven't killed myself yet.  The mental health people seem to refer to my condition as "treatment resistant" depression.  I may be depressed because I am a grieving widower, or I may be depressed because of a chemical imbalance, or I may be depressed because I have the wrong balance of bacteria in my gut, or I may be depressed because the mental health people keep saying that I am doing everything right, but I'm not getting better.  (That's a depressing thought.)  They are trying various things at the moment, like drugs, and psychotherapy, and various counsellors.  They are asking me to try mindfulness.

Mindfulness has been very popular, of late, in educational fields, and also in mental health and various types of counselling.  I can see that mindfulness could be used to address various mental health problems.  I have had some experience with mindfulness before.  In fact, it was emphasized to Gloria, at one point, for her own depression.  So I am not completely new to it.  I have also experienced it being used in school situations with my grandchildren.  In the classroom situations, it is generally suggested in an attempt to encourage mental discipline, clarity of thought, and sometimes to address certain behavioural problems.  I do not know what either educational or psychological research has to say about the efficacy of mindfulness for a variety of problems and situations.

However, I do know one thing about mindfulness.  Mindfulness, even in its current rather mechanised form, derives from the practice of Transcendental Meditation, or TM, as it was promoted in the 60s and 70s.

At that time I did not experience or participate in Transcendental Meditation, but I do know that there was some controversy in regard to transcendental meditation and possible unintended consequences.  Unintended by the practitioner, in any case.  It is very likely that those who were promoting transcendental meditation understood, at least to a certain extent, some of the consequences that were not made clear to those they were exhorting to try transcendental meditation.

I attended a presentation from the Spiritual Counterfeits Project (SCP).  This presentation was put on while I was attending UBC.  A great number of the university student population were interested in, and, to a certain extent, tried Transcendental Meditation.  Once again, this was primarily as an aid to studying, mental discipline, clarity of thought, and stress relief.

The Spiritual Counterfeits Project addressed a number of cults and cult organisations operating in the United States, but had a particular interest in transcendental meditation.  The speaker from the Spiritual Counterfeits Project had, in fact, been a trainer or guru in the practice of transcendental meditation, so he was well familiar with the practice, but also with some of the hidden agendas involved in the practice, and the promotion of the TM brand.  And at least one point in the formal presentation, he made the point that a number of people thought that they could practice transcendental meditation without buying into the Eastern religion and mysticism with which it was associated.  And that the mysticism tended to influence them, regardless of their intent.

During the question period at the end, a number of those commenting or raising questions challenged his assertion.  They said that they practiced or were interested in transcendental meditation solely as an aid to study, and that they did not believe the Eastern mysticism associated with it.  One particular questioner made this statement very strongly.  He insisted that he was not affected in any way.  His practice of transcendental meditation was just to aid in studying.

The Spiritual Counterfeits Project speaker said that even though this student questioner believed that he was unaffected by the religious and philosophical underpinnings of transcendental meditation, he was still being affected by it, without realising it.  The student said, no, he wasn't.  The speaker said, yes, he was.  This went back and forth several times.  And just as I was feeling that this was a pointless exercise,  the speaker suddenly changed tack.  He said, all right, if you are not affected by the belief systems of transcendental meditation, and if you are using it only as a tool, and only for your own purposes, then tell us your mantra.

I have to explain mantra.

When training in transcendental meditation, when the student had achieved a certain level of supposed "mastery," they were given a mantra.  The putative student of TM would be told that this mantra was given to him (or her) in order to aid in meditation, and that it was unique and related to their individuality, and that they should never, under any circumstances, reveal the mantra to anyone else.

The speaker from the Spiritual Counterfeits Project had explained all of this, and then had gone on to say that there were, in fact, only eight mantras, and that they were assigned to students of transcendental meditation purely on the basis of the student's age.  In addressing his challenge to the student, the speaker reminded him of all of this, and reminded the student that since the student had said how long he had been practicing TM that the speaker knew how old he was when he started, and therefore, what mantra he would have been assigned, and therefore the speaker actually already *knew* this student's mantra.  But, he said, if you do not believe in the philosophy, if you are not being affected and *in*fected by the belief systems of transcendental meditation, tell us your mantra to prove to us that you are not being so affected.

The student would not do so.

As mentioned, I am being encouraged to participate in my treatment of depression by going through a mindfulness course.  The course that has been proposed is not my favourite type of material.  It's extremely repetitive.  I suppose this is partly deliberate.  To keep repeating over and over again the same practice of scanning your body and paying attention to the sensations and feelings and other aspects that are all part of mindfulness. 

I am also aware of the risks as outlined in the Spiritual Counterfeits Project story.  Participating in a mindfulness exercise, and even more an entire course, exposes one to, and promotes, certain philosophies or beliefs that I might not wish to be involved with.

However, I am a security expert.  Therefore, I am an expert in risk management.  I am not unaware of dangers and risks.  Therefore, I am watching out for warning signs, and trying to do what I can to mitigate the risks.  For example, there is the aforementioned repetitive nature of the material.

As we have seen recently with the various populist politicians promoting Big Lies, the way to get people to believe lies is not to argue the point.  The way to get people to believe lies is simply to keep repeating them over and over and over again.  Advertisers have known this for decades.

So I'm watching this idea of repetition, which is, after all, the basis of the Eastern or apprentice style of teaching, as opposed to some more academic styles with which we, in the western world, are more familiar.  The Eastern style of teaching relies heavily on repetition.  Repetition of simple activities.  Getting the student to observe what the master does, and repeat motions or processes until they get them right.  Repetition is one way of learning.  It is very conducive to rote, or field independent, learning.  Field dependant learning relies on understanding.  Any understanding that comes from the repetitive, rote style of teaching comes long after the actual teaching, when the student has achieved a certain level of mastery, and if he or she so desires, goes on to consider what has been mastered, and whether what has been mastered can be improved, amended, corrected, or modified.  The repetitive or rote style of teaching does not provide for questioning of the material being taught, let alone questioning the teacher.  You just repeat until you've got it right.  At least, "right" according to the master.  Basically, the rote repetitive style of teaching encourages you to switch off your brain.  That is a possible problem.  And it seems to be very much a part of the mindfulness types of curricula.  You are encouraged not to examine what you are doing or being told.  You are encouraged to just do it, and to accept what you are told.  Therefore, you can be told certain things, and very likely grow to accept them, whether they are true or right, or consistent with what you have previously established as principles for your life, or your understanding of reality.  It's a good way to slip in possibly, contrary ideas or worldviews, without you really noticing it.

But that's a very general objection.

Well, this morning, I was reading some of the material, and I noticed something standing out to me.  Having started, and continuing to promote the idea of doing the body scan and paying attention to feelings and sensations in your body, the material, of course, diverted into some editorializing.  It was talking about the benefits of noticing not only sensations in your body, but sensations you encounter when you are out in nature.  Feeling the breeze on your skin.  Being out in nature and noticing the smell of flowers.  This then turned to the beauties and joys of being "at one" with nature.  All of this sounds very nice.  And then there was a quote from a Chinese poem, part of which said something about "I am together in peace with the mountain until there is only the mountain."

Okay, this sounds very peaceful.  It sounds very one with the universe, and being one with the universe, well, it's something that we are repeatedly being told, these days, is a good thing.  Repeatedly told.  (Remember what I said about repetition?)  This concept, of being "one with the universe," is fairly common in newage stuff: so common that we don't really think about it.  (Which may be a danger?)  Being one with the universe makes us tolerant of diversity.  Being one with the universe makes us realise that we should love our neighbours.  Etc. etc. etc. 

However, going back and reading that bit about the poem again, there is only the mountain.  What happened to me?

Now, initially, that may sound very selfish.  Why should I care about me?  There is this beautiful idea of being one with the universe.

This actually is one of the major differences between eastern and western philosophies and, particularly, religions.  This is the idea, or certainly related to the idea, of Nirvana.  Nirvana is a state of nothingness, a state of non-being.  It is possible to think of it as a state of dissolving in order to be one with the universe.  When we have been enlightened, we can achieve Nirvana, or nothingness.  And this is something that comes back in another segment of a later session in the mindfulness course.

Nirvana means that we escape the pain and frustration of mortal existence.  This is probably expressed most clearly in Buddhism.  Striving results in pain because we want something, and generally something that cannot be achieved.  Some kind of perfection that cannot be achieved.  Whether it is a perfect love, a perfect friendship, a perfect relationship, or a perfect cheeseburger, it cannot be obtained.  And therefore, this leads to frustration and pain.  Striving results in pain.  Striving results in suffering.  Therefore existence results in suffering, because even striving to escape suffering by achieving Nirvana (or nothingness) is, in fact, doomed to failure.

Go ahead.  Think of nothingness.  Quiet your thoughts.  Still your mind.  Remove any strivings.  Don't think.  In particular, don't think about a white unicorn.  Oh sorry.  You're thinking about a white unicorn, aren't you?

Your attempt not to think of a white unicorn, or a pink unicorn, or a polka dotted unicorn, once I have mentioned that you shouldn't think about it, is doomed to failure.  You are always going to be thinking, am I thinking of a pink unicorn?  You are going to be questioning yourself as to whether you are thinking about a pink unicorn.  And of course, as soon as you think about *not* thinking about a pink unicorn, you are going to think about a pink unicorn.

One of the exercises in the mindfulness course is to "not be aware," even for only ten seconds.  It's impossible.  (Unless you're asleep.  And, given that this is a sermon, you may well be.)

I'm sorry, but the idea of talking about nothingness can get very difficult at times.  I rather suspect that we are not intended to think about nothing.  About pure nothingness.  I rather suspect that the being who created us, and created our minds, did not intend us to think about nothing.

Anyway, that's the basic intent of most of the eastern religions.  We are to escape from the world.  We in the western world, and in particular the Judeo-Christian philosophies and religions, get accused of creating a dualism in the world.  We are accused of saying that things of the spirit are good, and things of the body are bad.  And a lot of people do make that mistake.  But the eastern world has an equal and even stronger dualism: between existence and non-existence.  Non-existence is good.  Existence is bad.

Now, this is, as I say, one of the major, differences between eastern and western religions.  To be more specific rather than generic, Buddhists wish to achieve Nirvana, or nothingness.  They don't even wish to be one with the universe.  What they want to be is "not."  When they don't exist anymore, they won't suffer anymore.  I have to admit that, as a grieving widower and a depressive with suicidal ideation, this idea of non-existence can be extremely tempting.  But that is not what we are promised in Christianity.

In terms of a life after ... or a life beyond this present life ... well, can I just call it the afterlife, so that I don't have to keep defining terms?  Anyways, the Jewish or Hebrew belief in an afterlife was as a kind of a half-life, or shadow life.  The Psalms and Job tend to have references to continued existence, but one that wasn't particularly useful.  However, that is, at the very least, modified in the New Testament.  We are promised that we will be with God.  We are promised that we will be in communication with God, in relationship with God.

We will be with God, but being with God, in the Biblical sense, is not the same thing as tends to be described in the "being one with the universe," mindfulness type material.  In mindfulness, the mountain stays, and you go.  You dissolve.  This is different from the Christian idea.  We are with God.  Yes, we are in communication with God.  Yes, we are probably in a more, perfect communication with God than was ever possible during our life on Earth.  Yes, we are therefore in an extremely close relationship with God.  But we aren't dissolved.  We are still there.

Although "there" may be a difficult concept, when we're talking about heaven.

Once you begin to look for the eastern mysticism in mindfulness, the evidence starts to present itself more quickly.  In a subsequent lesson, we are told to embrace pain.  We are not to thrust it away as negative, but to welcome it.  But this lies alongside another statement: we are to embrace pain because, after all, pain is temporary.  Everything, both good and bad, is temporary.  It will change.  And this is very similar to the teachings of eastern religion that *everything* is temporary.  Not in the same sense that Christianity says that the current heavens and the current Earth will one day disappear because they are imperfect, and will then be replaced with a perfect heaven and a perfect Earth, but because, in the eastern view, all of reality isn't real anyways.  All of reality is an illusion.  Therefore to cling to reality, good or bad, is to cling to an illusion.  The only reality is, you guessed it, nothingness.  Reality is a illusory: only non-existence, or nothingness, is real.

(This sounds an awful lot like what the populists are preaching these days: you cannot find the truth, because there *is* no truth.  You have to believe what I say.  There is nothing out there.)

This latter idea about embracing pain, and pain not being real, came to me in the middle of the night when my leg seized up in very painful spasms.  I'm sorry, mindfulness, the pain was just too severe to embrace.  Obviously, mindfulness, I am unsuited, or too weak in my faith in nothingness, not to believe that the pain is not real, and that, not being real, it was going to pass away.  In fact, by hobbling out to a chair, to support my leg in a slightly different angle, the pain did pass away.  But that may have had to something to do with the fact that I was using cognitive behavioral therapy, rather than mindfulness, to distract myself from the pain by getting my phone out and dictating a few more paragraphs of this sermon.  Oh dear.  So far cognitive behavioral therapy one, mindfulness zero.

I did pay attention to the sensation of pain, but only to the extent of being careful not to make it worse, while I changed position and situation.  Okay, maybe CBT .83, mindfulness  .094.

But back to the daily "lessons" that started talking about walking in the woods, feeling the breeze, smelling flowers, and then realizing that the sensations, and the brain perceiving them, were the same, and then "we sit together, the mountain and I, until only the mountain remains."

(I have to digress, for a moment.  A few days after I was working through this section, I was out, in the woods, working, but by myself.  Being out in the woods is not *always* completely tranquil.  It's really amazing how many strange sounds the woods can make, and, if you are by yourself, in country that also harbours bears and cougars, it can be a bit nerve-wracking to try and identify them all.)

In the mindfulness course, there are more lessons that relate to eastern mysticism than I have examined here.  In relation to everything is changing, nothing is permanent, we are told to think of a beautiful glass.  Then we are told to let go of our concern or admiration for the glass, since, if the glass is breakable, it is already broken (presumably in some future state?).  Since everything is changing, nothing is real.

In relation to striving bringing pain, we are to embrace pain, since "resistance to pain brings suffering."  Again, in relation to pain, we are not to worry about pain.  We are to think of pain as dye, and we are pouring the dye into a large lake.  "The lake is big enough to allow the dye without trouble."  Again, we are to consider that the dye is not real.  Only the lake is real.  (Wait ... *is* the lake real?  I'm sorry: as I say, this business of nothingness is really difficult at times.)  (Oh, and how about putting yeast into a huge amount of flour, and leavening the whole lump?  Is dye not real, but yeast is?)

There's another idea that the mountain poem brings up.  I mentioned that "what about me" might be seen as selfish.  Well, mindfulness itself is very selfish, in a sense.  We are to think about ourselves, and what bodily sensations we are feeling, and what emotions this might indicate that we are feeling.  But, is thinking about "nothing" any better?  Is thinking about the mountain any better?  Should we not be thinking about God, and God's directives, purposes, and plans for us?  Is mindfulness making "nothing" a false idol?  Or the mountain?

It may surprise you to learn that I am not calling for jihad against mindfulness.  We are meant to be distracted.  We were built to be distracted in earlier days when dangers lurked everywhere.  We had to be situationally aware, and we had to pay attention to slight clues that would distract us from what we were immediately doing, and prepare us to fight, or run away from, opportunities or dangers.  We now live in a massively complicated and over stimulated environment where we are constantly being distracted by unimportant things.  We need mindfulness, or something like it, to help us to focus and concentrate.  By and large, in our society and in our environment, we are safe.  And so the constant distraction is a problem.  We need to find a proper balance between being situationally aware of the events all around us, and internally, of our feelings, of our sensations, of our emotions, of our bodies, of our feelings, and emotions.  And even of our thoughts.  But we need to find that balance.  It can't be one or the other.

The balance that I am talking about is not between eastern and western religion.  I am not arguing for a kind of synthesis of the two kinds of thought.  (Somehow I don't think that you *can* synthesize existence and non-existence and come up with anything even remotely useful.)  Wherever the balance lies, it lies on the side of existence.  We need to balance our understanding of, and our need for, awareness of the environment around us and external to us, and the internal environment of our emotions, sensations, bodily needs and thoughts.  But all of these exist, and all of them have been created by God.  God exists, and we exist.  We are on the side of existence.  We have nothing to do with nothing.  (Sorry about that.  I *told* you it's extremely hard to talk about nothingness.)

I remember a film called "The Edifice," which is an extremely short and abbreviated animated cartoon history of the world.  The Arabs invented the concept of zero.  When it gets to the point where the zero was invented, the film has two Arab scholars sitting and writing.  Suddenly one jumps up and exclaims, "Allah be praised!  I've invented the zero!"  The other one says, "What?" and the first one goes back to writing, muttering, "Oh, nothing.  Nothing."

But it isn't nothing.  Is a very important concept.  (And we can be really grateful to the Arabs for it.)  Both in notation of numbers, and in various processes of calculation.  When we get to computers, it's even more important.  As we who work in information technology tell people, frequently, don't worry about it; it's all just ones and zeros.

One is on.  Zero is off.  One is true.  Zero is false.

And you can record and present all kinds of data in all kinds of ways, but they all use ones and zeros.

So zero isn't actually nothingness.  It has a meaning.  It is a placeholder.  It is an opposition.  It is something that you use to define.  And, in a sense, as long as we keep this in mind, the "nothing" behind mindfulness can be useful.  Not to follow slavishly, but to stand in opposition to some things that we tend to accept uncritically, and probably shouldn't.

As long as we know the origin of something, we can be aware of the principles and philosophies contained within it, and we can be aware of any risks in relation to it.  Once we understand the principles that descended to mindfulness from the original Transcendental Meditation, we can watch for this push towards nothingness.  We can be aware of its dangers.  We can see its relation in the populist politician's insistence that we do not know the truth, because we *cannot* know the truth, because there *is* no truth.  (And all we can do is believe them.)  As long as we see these lies for what they are, we can still use mindfulness.

I have used the breathing and relaxation exercises in the past, to help with headaches.  I have used mindfulness to try to be more aware of my own body.  Of my emotions.  Of the huge storm of emotions that grief, almost inevitably, creates in you.

We can use these tools as long as we are aware of the externalities that have been layered on top of them that are not helpful for use.  In a sense, my own form of meditation or mindfulness, of alerts to distraction, is part of a type of cognitive behavioural therapy in addressing depression.  When I started walking all over the place, I also started realising that I was walking around railing at God for my grief and loneliness, and the pointlessness of my existence without Gloria.  So I tried to address that by distracting myself.  I started praying.  When I got to Port Alberni, I added the people and the churches of Port Alberni to the list.  Initially, I was praying through my prayer list sometimes, five and six times a day.  And then I got depressed.  And it was hard to make it through even a single complete run through the list.  Apparently, it was the depression.  Depression makes it hard to focus.  It makes it hard to concentrate.  It means that you are easily distracted.  Even when there is nothing to distract you.  Sometimes you just stop.  So, I felt that praying through the list only once a day was a bit of a failure.  And I was beating myself up over it.  Although I tried to continue to get through the prayer list, at least once every day.

At one point, I was estimating that I was praying for eighty people every day.  I decided that I shouldn't be quoting that number if it was an overestimation.  And so I decided to write down the list and count it all up.

There are over two hundred entries on that list.  That's the churches, and the people that I know in the churches, in Port Alberni.  (Plus a few others.)  Then there's the list changes.  When people die, they get dropped off.  When I meet new people, they get added.  And of course, as people's situations change, what I pray for them, about the concerns that relate to them, their concerns change.  And, as noted, I don't have this list written down.  I pray it while I'm out walking, and so I have to remember it all, and keep it all in mind when I'm praying through the list.

Now that I come to think about it, it's not a failure.  It's a pretty impressive accomplishment, that I keep more than two hundred people, and their concerns, in my mind all the time.

So, what does this have to do with mindfulness?  Well, I know how easy it is to get distracted.  I know how many things in our environment impinge on our consciousness, and can distract us.  So I don't need mindfulness to inform me of how difficult it is to concentrate, to pay attention.  And I know how important it is to pay attention.  As the only pedestrian in Port Alberni, I also know the importance of slowing down and paying attention.  Not just because you guys are all terrible drivers.

When I came to Port Alberni I discovered how bad Port Alberni drivers were.  When, shortly after I got here, I was driving, I suddenly realised that as I approached an intersection, I was defocusing my eyes.  This is something that you learn automatically when you drive in heavy traffic situations.  It prevents attentional blindness.  Attentional blindness is when you devote your attention to, and focus on, a particular item, and therefore do not notice other things that are happening around you.  When you defocus your eyes, you cannot focus on a particular item in the field of view, and therefore you are more aware of gross movement, which might indicate a potential danger source like an approaching car.  Defocusing allows you to be ready to be distracted by a possibly dangerous signal.  Focusing and concentrating renders you attentionally blind to items that may indicate a potential danger.  Once again, we need to have a balance between concentration and distraction in life.

So we do need to be aware.  We do need to pay attention, and mindfulness can be a tool to do that.  But there are other tools that can help us to be aware.

I very strongly suspect that there is an awful lot of which God wishes we were more aware.

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