Friday, January 25, 2013

Hummingbird Wars


A house surrounded
By emerald trees and hummers
Is where I grew up!

In the grass I read
While they fought sharp and speedy
Wars above my head:

Elegant and fierce,
Flitting, darting past my cheeks.
Fear shrunk then shamed me.

Don’t crash into me!
I thought. Be still! I want to
See how green you are!

Sometimes, on the porch
Ropes, hung with cups of nectar
By my mom, they did.

Then I would watch them
And I wouldn’t breath at all
Until they flew off. 

Wednesday, January 23, 2013

Some Poems on Holding


In the Soul's Soil 

It takes about seven hours.
And they do a few thousand a year,
about 800 people die waiting
for a suitable heart.

He knew a kid who memorized amazing facts
about the heart.  It’s hard to do,
but not that hard to understand,
the kid would say about transplanting.
It’s very different from a tree –
the soil will take any tree, but the body’s big on rejection.



In My Father’s Woodshop, Learning to Hammer

“Don’t hold it so tight,” he would say,
bouncing the hammer by the very end
of the handle with ease.
I gripped the narrowest bit of neck,
right up under its iron head, and tapped carefully
like it was a hard third thumb, not some wild
wonderful limb full of as much power as danger.
From the corner of his eye, he watched
at the smallest angle from glancing away
so that each time my nail went slowly crooked
it took only a slight adjustment of the eyes not to see.
He did not believe you could gently create
a corner, a union.  Either you flattened your own finger
or someone else’s.  But after the thumbnail
had turned black and fallen off,
the box held treasures inside
its square hand and held together.


Types of Dishonesty

She took a perfect glass orb to bed.
In the morning, her palms glittered
And her sides ached as if she’d laughed all night
At some unimaginably happy thing.

He went to bed with a cup of paint
And held it upright all night.
No one could guess in the morning.
And even he sometimes forgot the color.

At the store, at the check out,
They dropped a bag of peaches.
He cut around the bruises and
She insisted upon eating them.


A Grip Holds No Release

Sudden falls revitalize the enemies
of deceit: Maroon is not purple,
but maybe we are me.

For any reason, emptiness 
volunteers to leave.
Time proposes many mountains
then takes some down. 

Just cast a stone to rip water! 
But know: it can’t scar, 
it sews itself back up.
(I’m having a harder time.)

Trees also won’t negotiate.  
But if a fence stands too close, 
they’ll swallow its wire very slowly.
Think of those barbs, shouting on
their sharpness inside a trunk.
Such patient humor lives in trees!

The work finalizes the reason we began it. 
But some work has no reason. 
Some reasons need no work.


Friday, January 11, 2013

Avoiding Detection

Editing inspired by Geoff's lie detection know-how. 

Avoiding Detection


At the airport, at security, I’m not.
I’ve got the look
of someone with sneakers full of little bombs,
detonators between my toes.

On the interstate, when a cop car lurks,
idle in the median,
I can’t seem to keep straight the wheel
as a sober person should: without trying

too hard. You look at me, I look off.
The bomb behind my ribs wobbles
my legs like a drunk’s legs;
your voice resonating in me: the detonator.

Why feel so suspect trying to get any place
as if love takes lives on its way?
Only lint is between my toes, and it’s not you who’s going
to explode if you find the button your finger is on,

it’s me.

Monday, January 7, 2013

I am going to buy you a tuba because you deserve to understand


If you want to know the truth, the truth is this: when you lived in the apartment under mine, I use to jump up and down on purpose.  I've lived under people with toddlers and people who don't trim their dog's nails and maniacs who seem to be dancing with their furniture all the time and people who buy their teenagers stereos with bases even though their kids like death metal and clumsy people and angry people who let it out mostly through their heels. I've lived under all kinds of loud.  So I know how it is. That's why I did it.

In fact, when you moved in, my bedroom had wall-to-wall carpeting.  It was green and thick and I liked to sit on the edge of my bed and wiggle my toes in it like it was grass, yarn grass.  But then I realized how it muffled the impact of my jumps, so I had it torn out.  I paid the kid who lives next door, the one with the lopsided haircut and those hideous cargo shorts whose mom pretends not to smell that he's always sneaking cigarettes out his bedroom window.  You've seen him from down there, too, I'm sure.  He came in with some big pair of red garden sheers and tore my little bedroom yard right up.  That night, when I heard you come home, I jumped from the bed to the floor 17 times, instead of just jumping in place.  I'm sure you remember this.

Sometimes I did it because it felt like justice.  Other times I did it and felt like an elephant.  Sometimes, I just needed something to be sorry for.  You don't know it, but after the worst bouts of stomping -- the ones where I ran from wall to wall in high heels -- I often put my ear on the floor afterwards to see if I could hear anything.  

But your very quiet.  You are so, so quiet.  You only ever make noise when you are coming or going, practical noise, noise in passing.  At first, I thought that's what I liked about you.  I thought that's why I was doing it.  Like: you would knock on my door and I could say it to your face: oh, I am so sorry!  Then I would make it up to you some sweet way that maybe would become just sweet with no making up and then maybe after that just making out.  

Later, I realized I was doing it because I hated you.  Because you were too quiet.  Because no one has a right to be that quiet.  There are a lot of reasons to make noises, you know!  That's what I am trying to say.  Because you love, because you hate, because you want to be an elephant.  Or even a kangaroo. 

You moved out.  At least, I think you moved out.  To be honest, it sounds the same -- when I lie with my ear on the floor I only hear the pipes snickering like before.  Still, I feel like you did.

But look, you deserve to understand about all this!  And so here is what I am going to do for you, I have it all planned out finally:  I am going to buy you a tuba.  There's a store in Watertown.  They sell used instruments, tubas that have been rented to middle school band students who became too popular and had to play soccer instead, pock marked tubas, tubas covered in dents.  They're the sort of ugly that means no-expertise-required! and nothing-to-lose!  If you get frustrated, you can even throw a tuba like this at the living room floor.  It won't matter.  Things that can survive middle school are virtually indestructible.  

But you have to play it.  That's why I am getting it for you.  The jumping and the high-heel running, it isn't working, I know.  But maybe if I get you a tuba.  Maybe that will help.

Saturday, January 5, 2013

Everybody Needs a Geoff


Everybody Needs a Geoff

I first saw you on the grass
Wooden swords you swung so fast
I was swift and on the go
Who is that there? Fucking weirdo

Hours passed, the day was late
I knew you were my new roommate
Fear gripped my heart, for I could see
You touched too much, damn, don’t touch me

Later on that night I found
That we had some common ground
You had taken mushrooms too
A different aura surrounds you

You told me then infused with love
How heart’s broke open, spread above
Tumult and strife, and death, and sex
A strange and wonderful, loving hex

The hex you spread to me as well
Through hundred days of vajra hell
I wrestled, shrieking, scalding pains
That filled my chest, I shook, insane

You kissed my foot a fated night
And I recoiled for in your sight
Spontaneous moods arise and pass
And I was thinking of my ass

About my ass? O yes I say!
The love between us grew each day
And in that vibrant loving space
Confused thoughts of sex were laced

But later on I came to see
You did not want to cum in me
Nor I in you, and this is solved
Our love so strong, and uninvolved

4 months passed, retreat was done
In pre-dawn light we climbed, for fun
Protector’s hill and in the ice
Glittering diamonds, dazzling, nice

Supporting me through each tirade
That my restless ego made
You showed your friendship right away
And now continue every day

What joy it is to live with you
My dharma brother, Vajra boo!
This poem seems silly, uninspired
But so deep down my love is mired

Cause everybody needs a Geoff
Until no suffering is left
In all the worlds, in all of space
In you I see the Buddha’s face

Thursday, January 3, 2013

Religious Experience and Madhyamaka Philosophy


Andrew Kriete
5/9/11

Religious Experience and Madhyamaka Philosophy
An Investigation of Claims about Religious Experience from the Buddhist Madhymaka Framework

            The academic interest in religion can be traced back to the enlightenment era when philosophy, moral thought, and art split decisively from an explicitly religious framework. Philosophes began to study religion with an objective focus, outside the regulatory structure of an established church. Developments in the 19th century contributed an awareness of naturalist religion, and the imperial aspirations of Europe brought European cultures into contact with organized religions around the world. Popular movements such as the theosophical society promoted a mystical interpretation of the world’s religions, and eventually their claims were investigated more seriously by academics. William James’ The Varieties of Religious Experience represents the first systematized analysis of mystical experience.
In recent history religious experiences have been understood in academic discussion primarily by the perennialist and constructivist camps. Generally, perennialists assign a degree of legitimacy to the mystic’s description of their experience. William James attempted to investigate the claims of mystics on their own terms, taking seriously the metaphysical and ontological assertions suggested in descriptive accounts. Constructivism is a more recent development that privileges the possibility of formative influences from socio-cultural and linguistic suggestion. These general outlines have devolved into more concrete claims, from both sides, which attempt to bring matters of religious experience into clearer focus. While the descriptive accounts of mystics showcase some similarities, the beliefs and ontologies their writings support are markedly different between traditions. Viewed philosophically, the question of separate ontologies relate back to a cohesive theory of epistemology.
The Buddhist and Vedic traditions are interesting in that they developed their philosophical thought concurrently. Both had similar cosmological frameworks but disagreed heavily on matters of interpretation and ontology. Furthermore, being located in the same area, they were rivals competing for patronage and political support. As such, both developed precise epistemological frameworks intended to challenge and refute the ontological claims of rival schools. One of these Buddhist schools, known as Madhyamaka, deals almost entirely with epistemology and views with great suspicion any claimed “ontology.” The Madhyamaka view that evolved from this school went on to define the interpretive framework of the Tibetan Buddhist tradition and influenced Buddhism throughout China, Korea, Japan, and the Indian sub-continent.  It is through the Madhayamikan epistemological lense that I will investigate the claims made by both camps of modern religious theorists. First, however, it might be helpful to outline more specifically what constructivists and perennialists actually assert about the nature of religious experience.
            Perennialists often concentrate their efforts in an attempt to differentiate religious experience from the structures of thought and language. An explanatory language that classifies such experience as “unmediated,” “direct,” or “pure”, characterizes the attempt. There is also a tendency among perennialists to conflate religious experience with emotional sentiment. William James seems to say that mystical experience is a simple feeling that is independent of concepts and belief. [1] James also wants to deny the hegemonic attempt of rationality and logic to be the ultimate authority of religious life.[2] James’ famous four characterizations of religious experience as ineffable, noetic, immanent, and transitory are drawn from an investigation of claims and descriptions from people who have had experiences they deem mystical. These four characterizations were not drawn from a single mystical tradition, but derived from several in which James thinks he has observed certain similarities. These similarities are thought by some religious theorists (Ninian Smart among others) to suggest a common core to mystic traditions centered around personal experience. This intimate and “felt” reality potentially transcends the creeds and dogmas of institutionalized religions. A general view in the perennialist camp might be one that acknowledges the possibility of experiences that are trans-linguistic, trans-cultural, and unmediated.
            The constructivist camp approaches religious experience from an angle that emphasizes the contextualization of experience in general. A basic observation that supports this view is that beliefs which pervade a tradition in which a mystic practices seems to have an influence on the content of the mystic’s experience. For example, a Buddhist meditator does not have visions of Jesus or describe his/her experience in the context of union of the lover and the beloved. These are qualities found in another mystic tradition. Instead, the Buddhist meditator speaks of emptiness, cessation and nirvana. Steven Katz classifies these distinctions more concretely. He says,
We must recognize that a right understanding of mysticism is not just a question of studying the reports of the mystic after the experiential event but also of acknowledging that the experience itself, as well as the form in which it is reported, is shaped by the concepts which the mystic brings to, and which shape, his experience. [3]

The idea, as Katz describes it, is that the Hindu mystic does not have an experience of ‘x’ that he then describes in the already familiar language of the Hindu tradition, but that his experience is itself informed by the anticipated experience of “Brahman.” Constructivists understand mystical experiences as a result of traversing a path, whatever path that is. The path that is taken influences the content of the experience.  
Katz finds further evidence for the constructivist view in an analysis of the common notion that mystics run against the strains of their established tradition. He notices that mystics rarely view their experience as contradictory to the assertions of their tradition. Mystics seldom dis-engage completely from orthodox belief. Religious texts make a variety of ontological assertions and mystics describe their experience in a way that conserves traditional claims, even if they are interpreted differently. Mystics saw their own teaching, and others saw it likewise, as either “(a) the older teachings in a new guise; (b) personal confirmation of existing doctrine; (c) a legitimate extension of traditional teaching; or (d) a new, but authoritative stage of tradition.”[4] It seems, on Katz’s account, that when mystics proclaim innovations of doctrine or practice, they intend to offer the traditional sources of authority legitimacy. The character is more conservative than revolutionary. The ontological assertions do, however, contradict each other across traditions, making it difficult to say that a Christian experience of God is the same as the Hindu experience of Atman.
There are several other noteworthy players in the constructivist camp. Wayne Proudfoot focuses on the role of emotion in religious experience. He says that emotions are essentially physiological events. He derives his conclusions from a study done by Stanley Schachter and Jerome Singer (1963), which found that interpretation and judgment of physiological occurrences as particularized emotions are derived largely from contextual cues and are relative to them.  Emotions, and thus by implication religious experiences, are bound up and inseparable from explanatory judgments that are contextually relative. Therefore, physiological excitement produced in a religious context, through a practice such as chanting, would be interpreted as religious because of the setting in which it occurred. He develops this theory further in a critique of Friedrich Schleiermacher. He finds that Schleiermacher uses evocative and skillful language to awaken in his readers an experience of religious consciousness that he himself believes underlies every moment of existence. He asserts that Schleiermacher’s  “neutral” descriptions of religious consciousness, which he Schleiermacher claims to be free from thought and prior to subject/object distinction, might actually constitute a person’s religious experience by providing a framework in which a person can identify certain unidentified feelings as “religious.” He repeatedly refers to the religious nature of this experience by referring to an intentional object. “God,” the “Infinite,” the “Whole,” or the “Universe” all find their way into the description. Proudfoot finds Schleiermacher in a logical dilemma since he claims that religious experience is immediate and independent of thoughts, but can only specify it in reference to a sophisticated set of beliefs and concepts. He further concludes that the experience is inextricably linked with the descriptions of it, and that it does not exist independently or prior to such concepts, but that they in some way constitute the experience. He attempts to differentiate himself from Katz’s thesis that the mystic’s prior beliefs are causally connected to his/her experience. He thinks the antecedent beliefs do not form a causal connection but a conceptual one.
This brief outline explains some of the issues surrounding the investigation of religious experience. There are others who have contributed to the debate such as Rudolf Otto, Mircea Eliade, Huston Smith, etc. A recent analysis of these issues in Religious Experience Reconsidered, by Ann Taves, tries to provide space for integration of the two camps by offering new interpretive frameworks that engage sources outside those traditionally considered in religious study. Madhyamaka philosophy, while formulated in response to a different set of concerns, offers an epistemological theory that addresses some of the main problems in the investigation of religious experience. It also has some similarities to the later Wittgensteinian theory of language relativity that contributed to the constructivist argument.[5]
Madhyamaka philosophy is founded primarily on the refutation of the notion of svabhava. Svabhava loosely translated from Sanskrit implies essence or an intrinsic nature. This essence is conceived in certain Vedic schools as something that characterizes an object, but which exists on its own in an ontological sense, independently of contributing factors. Due largely to the emphasis on impermanence and interdependence within Buddhist dialectic, this notion of svabhava engendered conclusions that Buddhists considered deeply troubling philosophically and ontologically. Much time and energy was spent refuting svabhava on the grounds in which it was presented in the Vedic schools. Centuries later svabhava came to represent what is a primary cause of “wrong view.” The false imposition of svabhava here contributes to the unsatisfactory and problematic conditions within samsara. This was the case especially in the Tibetan philosophical tradition of Tsongkhapa started in the 14th century, to which the Dalai Lama belongs.
The Madhyamaka framework may bring a new level of understanding to two views thought to be incompatible by perennialists and constructivists; the constructivist view that the mystic’s experience is a causally produced phenomenon influenced by the tradition of the mystic among other causes, and the perrenialist view that a mystics experience is non-conceptual and not classified by discursive thought. We can start with an investigation into the Madhyamaka conception of the nature of experience itself.
The Madhyamaka view holds that there are no uncaused phenomena. Everything that arises does so in connection with a supporting network of causes and conditions. This is very much related to the negation of svabhava. If one were to maintain that an object had its own svabhava, its own defining characteristic, and that it existed of its own nature and derived no properties from other existents, then it could not be causally connected to any other object. In the Madhyamaka view we can only say anything about an object through the ascription of likeness and difference to another object. This is a cognized process, where the mind apprehends a characteristic of a phenomenon, and either differentiates it from, or relates it to, another object that has previously been apprehended and which can form a basis for relation. So, if any object were to exist on its own, with its own essence, we would not be able to say or know anything about it because our specification of a defining characteristic is finally relative to the defining characteristics of other objects. A simple thought experiment could make this idea a little less obtuse. Can one describe what the color red looks like without reference to any other colors? What is it about “red” that makes “red” red? Is it not finally the ascription of differences to colors that are not red? Madhyamikas say that there is not some ultimate essence of “redness” floating out there in the primordial ether that we then contact and compare a red apple to. Rather redness exists as a relative construct, compared and contrasted with other things that are red and not red based merely on convention.
This lack of absolute ontological status can be related to the constructivist assertion that there is no “unmediated” experience. To have an experience that is uncaused by any prior conditioning is not possible. There must always be some basis for relation, otherwise nothing could be said about the experience, nothing could be known about the experience, and no ascription of meaning could ever be placed. It therefore makes sense that the content of experiences are informed by other mediated conditions. This does not mean, however, that all experiences have to be cognized or conceptual events, they just have to be cognized and conceptual if one wants to talk about them or ascribe meaning to them.
Despite the fact that in Madhyamaka philosophy svabhava does not exist, the notion of emptiness would presume that it does. Emptiness here has to be emptiness of something. For Madhyamikas everything is empty of svabhava. So in what way then does svabhava exist? It exists here as a deluded or mistaken imposition made by all unrealized beings. It is the common condition of sentient beings to ascribe permanence and individuality to things, oneself included. The ascription of characteristics is a groundless practice, but it does not appear that way to ordinary beings.  In a practical Madhyamaka understanding this causes suffering. Attachment to systems of value that are groundless, easily corruptible, and subject to change is illogical, yet we can notice that this occurs frequently in our experience and appears to happen in the experience of others. These are disrupted when a valued object is taken away, or when another being with different values changes one’s relationship to valued objects. Not accounting for impermanence and change, attachment can cause a multiplicity of unpleasant mental and emotional states. This can be traced back to svabhava, thinking that objects, be they conceptual or physical, exist on their own as ontological entities, and will persist in a relatively permanent fashion over time. To make the negation of svabhava more clear dialectically Madhyamaka philosophy divides reality into two truths, conventional truth and ultimate truth. Conventional truth is the set of loosely assigned values designated through the force of convention by unrealized beings. Ultimate truth is seeing that conventional truth is groundless. Ultimate truth is non-deceptive as it apprehends the finally relative and interdependent nature of existents, including that that realization itself is contingent upon conventional truth for its existence.
In the Madhyamaka view this realization cannot be a conceptual or cognitive realization. Remember that any distinction or designation between phenomenological occurrences is finally relative to other conventionally designated distinctions. A basis for comparison is a conceptualized ground that privileges one set of characteristics against another. Apprehending the dependent nature of arising and dissolving occurrences is not dependent upon a cognitive analytic set. The apprehension of emptiness is dependent upon the non-ascription of defining characteristics.  At the same time, the realization is itself illusory, as it is dependent upon on a network of conditions to be perceived as essence-less or as lacking svabhava. This apprehension is non-deceptive because it does not posit a notion of unchanging reality, but merely acknowledges interdependence and impermanence including the interdependent nature of the apprehension itself. Nagarjuna states that enlightenment is illusory but non-deceptive, and the Buddha is said to have claimed that if there is anything beyond enlightenment, that too is illusory. In this way, Madhyamaka allows for a notion of experience that is non-conceptual. Whether or not this notion can be directly related to a perennialist notion of non-cognitive experience is up for debate.
One distinction between perennialists and Madhyamikas can be discerned from an assertion made by the neo-perennialist William Barnard. He says it might be “at least methodologically prudent to leave open the possibility that trans-linguistic, unmediated experience is both possible and even reasonable.”[6] A Madhyamika would not agree. A Madhyamika might want to leave open the possibility of trans-linguistic experience, but not of an unmediated one. While it might be possible to exhaust conceptual discriminations that are the root of a comparative language theory, divorcing causality completely is not a philosophical possibility. Maybe it is here that the Madhyamika could not accommodate a perennialist view.
An incompatibility with the constructivist view might be noted in relation to Proudfoot’s assertions. There is a way in which he implies that social suggestion constitutes the interpretation of experience, such that they are finally indistinguishable. For Madhyamikas evocative language used with a definitive object in a specific context may be a contributing condition of experience, but Madhyamikas generally identify a multiplicity of other conditions that contribute to an experience outside of linguistic and social designation (for instance the skhandas, pramanas, aggregrates, etc.) They would not say that all experiences are finally indistinguishable from ascriptive meanings. The apprehension of ultimate truth is a good example of an experience not reducible to a linguistic framework. For Madhyamikas talking about ultimate truth is not the same as apprehending the finally relative nature of phenomena.
Even with these differences, Madhyamaka seems to offer a framework that allows for the interpretation of two possibilities generally considered incompatible by perennialists and constructivists. There is much that remains to be said about Madhyamika, and this philosophical introduction would prove inadequate to those better acquainted with the tradition. I have left out important aspects such as the assertion of thesis-less-ness, specifics about epistemic instruments, clarifications that distinguish Madhyamika from nihilism, and an analysis of the Madhyamika theory of language. I have also not offered any theories about how one might arrive at the apprehension of emptiness. Still Madhyamika offers an interesting lense through which to view the perennialist-constructivist debate.  In the future a deeper and more specified examination of Madhyamika in relation to religious experience might prove interesting and possibly informative. Differences in the developmental context of Madhyamika and religious theory might make an exacting comparison difficult, but a comparison of general theory could bring greater focus and clarity to issues on both sides.





Bibliography
Barnard, G. William. 1992. Explaining the Unexplainable: Wayne Proudfoot’s
            Religious Experience. Journal of the American Academy of Religions 60 (2):
            231-56.

Barnard, G. William, Exploring Unseen Worlds: William James and the Philosophy of
            Mysticism. Albany: State University of New York Press, 1997.

James, William, The Varieties of Mystical Experience. New York: Penguin Classics,
1985.

Katz, Steven, Mysticism and Religious Traditions, edited by Steven Katz. New York:
Oxford University Press, 1983.

Katz, Steven, Mysticism and Philosophical Analysis. New York: Oxford University
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Patil, Parimal G., Against a Hindu God: Buddhist Philosophy of Religion in India.
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rJe Tsongkhapa, Ocean of Reasoning: A Great Commentary on Nagarjuna’s
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Proudfoot, Wayne, Religious Experience. Berekely: The University of California
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Taves, Ann, Religious Experience Reconsidered: A Building-Block Approach to the
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            Press, 2009.

Westerhoff, Jan, Nagarjuna’s Madhymaka: A Philosophical Introduction. New York:
            Oxford University Press, 2009.

Westerhoff, Jan, Dispeller of Disputes: Nagarjuna’s Vigrahavyavartani. NewYork:
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[1] Wayne Proudfoot, Religious Experience. Berkeley: The University of California Press, 1985. p. 153

[2] William Barnard, “Explaining the Unexplainable: Wayne Proudfoots Religious Experience.” Journal of the American Academy of Religion 60 (2) p. 248.

[3] Steven Katz, “The Conservative Character of Mystical Experience.” Mysticism and Religious Traditions, edited by Steven Katz. New York: Oxford University Press, 1983. p. 4
[4] Katz, p. 22
[5] Ann Taves, Religious Experience Reconsidered: A Building Block Approach to the Study of Religion and Other Special Things. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2009. p. 89
[6] Barnard, p. 242