The last couple of weeks have been quite a whirlwind, at least in the world of American politics. The storm showed itself first in Cleveland, with the Republican National Convention. Delegations walking out. Shouting on the floor. Apparent plagiarism from the podium. Dark, fear-filled speeches. All amid complaints that the party's nominee wasn't really representative of the party! The winds then blew east to Philadelphia and the Democratic National Convention, beginning with a squall raised by leaked emails and the resignation of a party official, leading into another set of walk-outs, "boo's" aimed at venerable speakers, and complaints (1) that the system was "rigged", but also (2) one of the candidates wasn't really representative of the party. The end result of both conventions was that many who had identified with each party, come November, were going to cast their votes for a third-party candidate. They claim that the institutions that had held their voting loyalty were broken and corrupt.
Then, last week, I received in my email inbox a pointer to an article entitled "Sit Down and Shut Up: Pulling Mindfulness Up By Its (Buddhist) Roots" by Max Zahn. While the first part of the title may have been something many of the above-mentioned conventioneers might have been shouting, the article itself points in an entirely different direction. It relays a critique of the current "fad" of corporations encouraging their employees to engage in "mindfulness training", ostensibly to help them deal with workplace stress. Cynics (both in the article and elsewhere) point out that the employers might be less concerned about the employees' stress, than in investing in helping them be more productive. i.e., keeps the cogs in the machine well-oiled. Regardless, there are many who take the training and testify to its overall benefits, benefits beyond the workplace. But the article also raises concerns among some Buddhists that detaching mindfulness from its Buddhist roots is detrimental to both mindfulness itself AND Buddhism. I've heard this same complaint leveled by Hindus (and some Buddhists) about the detachment of yoga from its religious roots.* Several years ago, there was a "fad" among many celebrities adopting forms of mystical Judaism, without (according to their critics) being truly engaged with Judaism at all.
I am not interested in claiming that one political party is less "rigged" or "corrupt" than the other. I am also not interested, really, in whether or not removing a practice from its religious roots is "cultural appropriation". What I do see, in both instances, is a dis-ease with institutional affiliation, or an assertion that the institutions are diseased. That dis-ease is apparent, too, in the flight of many younger people from traditional religions; the numbers of "spiritual but not religious", or "Nones" is rapidly rising. Most of these folks are NOT rejecting things spiritual. They ARE rejecting institutions that seem self-absorbed and/or out-of-touch with current realities.**
The institutional response is often a sort of hand-wringing: "How do we get those disaffected voters back among the party faithful?" "Yoga isn't really yoga unless it retains its ties to our cosmology!" "Grazing at a religious smorgasbord is no substitute for genuine faith!" Yet the wise ones in all of these arenas are beginning to recognize that the critiques they are facing might, indeed, point to areas that need attention. They recognize that institutions, as sociologists assert, inevitably serve to dull passion -- the term of art is "routinization of charisma". Those who flee the institution, or disassociate the institution's "beneficial" practices from the institution's constraints, are, it seems to me, raising a challenge to reform.
The one who expresses dis-ease simply may be pointing to another's disease. Paraphrasing Jesus, let's hope that those who have eyes to see may be able to see that and respond appropriately--bravely and without fear!
Blessings,
Gary
* Oddly enough, at the same time,there are places in the US where yoga is being offered in public schools. It is ostensibly separated from its religious roots, yet is criticized by some parents as being "creeping Hinduism".
** Polling data indicates that many millennial, for example, have fled organized Christianity because of a perceived entanglement with conservative political agendae.
Most folks who know me at all know that I am an avid cyclist. I try to commute by bike as often as possible (and who cares if it's raining or 100 degrees?). I love long rides; I love difficult rides. I've worked with a personal trainer to tailor my weight-room exercises to maximize my ability to be on the bike. When living in California, I sat on the side of the road to watch the the Amgen Tour of California whiz by. And, during July of every year, I tune in to the Tour de France. From the time I first started watching the Tour in the mid-to-late '80's, I've been amazed at what these athletes do. They are on the bike every day for over three weeks (including 2 "rest days" when they are STILL on the bike!). They regularly ride distances of over 100 miles. They climb incredibly steep mountain passes. They "time-trial" despite the weather. And, while they may need to consume over 8,000 calories a day, on average, a rider will lose ten pounds during the race. All of this is just during the race; nothing like this happens without a lot of training -- physical, mental and, I imagine, spiritual (of a sort). Yet, knowing all of this, I was struck when, in an interview last week one of the riders said, "Any day, any time, I will gain time on the race."
This rider, whose name I've forgotten (in my hurry to write down his words), captured the heart of someone who was not content to remain in the middle of the peloton (that big, constantly shifting, amoeba made up of the pack of cyclists). Not that being in the middle of the peloton is a bad thing; one learns, when watching the tour, that all of the riders on a team have specific roles to support the overall goal of the team. And often those roles relegate one to the middle of the pack. An additional advantage to being in the middle of the peloton is that one's energy-expenditure goes WAY down, as "drafting" becomes possible. On the other hand, if there's a crash up forth, many in the peloton can't help but also going WAY down, perhaps suffering race-ending injuries. So, it may behoove a rider to be out front, to gain time.
This rider's phrase, "Any day, any time, I will gain time on the race" has stuck with me over the last week, especially as I have watched with dismay, horror and sorrow at what has transpired in the United States. Shootings in Baton Rouge, St. Paul, Dallas and St. Joseph come on the heels of the tragedy in Orlando. Around the world, shootings and bombings are taking the lives of hundreds of innocent people. The motivations are various; various forms of racism, homophobia, and religious sectarianism seem to predominate. All indicate, as I've noted many times, an undercurrent of fear and anxiety that seems to, almost naturally, find its outlet in violence.
I write "almost naturally" with caution, because I do not believe that we, as a species, are born violent. Yet, from almost day one, we are surrounded by so much violence--real, virtual, and even athletic--that it becomes the culture of the "peloton" that is our daily life. And, in such a "race", when something goes down at the head of the pack, it's very difficult for those behind to do much else than to fall. Violence committed in one direction becomes turned in the other; rage begets rage. Many of us who don't feel directly connected to these events shake our heads in dismay. We become disheartened, hopeless. Yet I often forget that I am part of a larger peloton that is our society, our culture, even our human race. And, as I mentioned above, that peloton is rife with violence. As I coast along amongst the other riders, I become somewhat indifferent to what is going on around me, as long as I don't have to expend to much energy to keep going. Rather than win, rather than be a part of the break-away, I am content. The events of the last few weeks demand more of me, of us, than simply to be carried along by the winds of the crowds and the media. It is incumbent upon us to find an opening, an opportunity, to move beyond the pack, to become a leader. Each of us will, of necessity, need to do this as we can; we bring different skill sets to the "race". Some of us are better suited to direct action; others in coalition-boiling, still others publicity/marketing. In the best of all possible worlds, we will find like-minded, like-hearted, companions to multiply our efforts.
The now-clichéd phrase "Our thoughts and prayers are with . . . " needs to be retired. It must be replaced with "Pray as if it all depended on God, but act as if all depended on you." That is, despite our various spiritualities, we have to all make a common commitment to "any day, any time, gain time on the race".Blessings,Gary
I've been thinking a lot about "home" the last few weeks. The circumstances have been quite varied. Fairly constant in the back of mind, but occasionally coming to the fore, is the recognition that the city where I grew up (Portland, OR), has remained in some ways, my "home", even though I left forty-plus years ago. But with no immediate family there any more, my "home" isn't really there. And so I have to wonder what/where IS my home; what defines my home? Is it family? Is it a building, a place?
More recently and specifically, I have listened to a lot of the reporting about the shooting at the Pulse nightclub in Orlando. Part of the back-story was about how these kinds of clubs have become a kind of "home" for people who have been exiled from the homes of their birth. Not feeling safe in their parents' house, many LGBT folks found security with others of similar backgrounds in the clubs. The attack on Pulse was an attack on their "home" — both literally for those in Orlando, and figuratively for the wider LGBT community.
And, then, in the last few weeks, I've seen continued coverage of the refugee crisis in the Middle East and Europe. The numbers, as we all know, are staggering. Millions of refugees, rendered "home-less" by violence and persecution. Not only have they been robbed of their physical homes, they've been robbed of their homeland. And, many who have lost their identity papers -- now homeless and identity-less have become ghost-people.
On another front, the Brexit vote in the United Kingdom had notions of "home" running through it. Some of those who wanted the UK to leave the European Union did so because they wanted more "home"-first policies, more self-determination. Others felt a threat to their "home" from immigrants and refugees because of the EU's open-borders policies. The vote was to "pull in", in some respects to make the notion of "home" smaller, i.e., "Our 'home'-identity is not 'European', but rather 'English'."
So I've been wondering about how "big" is our home? And this "came home" to me the other day when I watched a short video, called "A World of Solutions". The narration (done by Morgan Freeman) pointed out that our "world" may indeed be threatened because of pollution, over-population, etc. But what that REALLY meant was that WE (humans) were threatened; the world would heal itself and continue as it has for millions of years regardless of human habitation. The underlying call of the film was for us to see that if we--humanity--want our home to survive, we will have to work together to make that happen.
How big IS our home? Do we really believe that re-arranging the furniture, or casting some away, or putting some keepsakes/antiques in a place of prominence, will keep the house from deteriorating?
A more expansive vision of "home" is what we really need, not a more restrictive one.To quote former President Ronald Reagan, " . . . tear down that wall!"
Blessings,
Gary
