Wonder and Wondering
Gosh, I began this contemplation almost
a month ago! It seems like ages. Since that time, however, I’ve been distracted
by current events both negative and positive. On one hand, the killings in Aurora , Colorado Aurora
The Olympics, on the other hand, have
the potential to reveal us at our best – not our chest-thumping, blood-doping,
win at all cost best, mind you, but our coming together in global goodwill
best. I’ve been a fan of the Olympics since I was just a little kid, so I was
all too willingly sucked into spending entire evenings watching it. Couple that
with the fact that it has been an incredibly hot summer during which I’ve
continued to pick up my running mileage – a reality that has left me feeling somewhat
drained and without my usual literary zip – and you’ve got about an 80%
accounting for my dearth of posts of late. The other 20%? Well, let’s just chalk it up to myriad causes
and conditions!
Yes, the heat is waning, and, yes,
the news both good and bad is fading into the past. Perhaps even the drought is
beginning to break. The heat is, anyway. However, I shouldn’t lead anyone to
believe that I’ll be bouncing back to a once-per-week rate of posting either
this month or the next. You see, I’ve also come to realize that I’ve got a bit
of editing work ahead of me. There’s enough material on this blog now that I can
no longer ignore the fact that many of my posts contain no subject labels that
might allow it to be easily organized. The table of contents, as well, is still
incomplete. Over the course of the coming weeks, then, I’ll be doing what I can
to improve this site’s searchability with the intention of making it a more
useful resource to returning readers and a more accessible one for brand new
readers. Have I mentioned that I’m also still putting the finishing touches on
my novel? Aargh! Seriously, these are amongst the most awesome problems that I
could possibly have! For now, though, let me pick up where I left off with my
post entitled Wonder.
Wonder,
according to Merriam-Webster, encompasses “rapt attention or astonishment at
something awesomely mysterious or new to one's experience.” Such a definition might
lead us to conclude that the longer we live and the more we learn, the less likely
we are to experience it. Indeed, this seems to be true. Familiarity does tend
to dampen our experience. It allows us to proceed on autopilot, so to speak,
making note of our surroundings enough to navigate through them without really being affected by them. It allows us to recognize
people without really seeing them,
and value things in terms of their utility
rather than the entirety of their being.
This, of course, is the reason for me writing in one of my recent tweets (hey,
at least I had some “literary” urges!) that “familiarity is the most
impenetrable obscuration of all.”
Feelings of familiarity arise
because of the activation of our memories, ideas, and concepts related to what
we think we’re doing and seeing.
Unfortunately, though, once our memories, ideas and concepts have been activated,
real seeing ceases and wonder becomes
impossible. Zen practice allows us to become more and more adept at seeing
without the activation of our memories, ideas and concepts. Thus, it allows us
to be more open to the experience of wonder.
Regular readers might recall my use
of the Japanese word, nen, or “thought
impulse” in my post entitled The Nature Of Things (see also Sekida, 1985, p. 257). In that post I also quoted from
a talk by Sojun Mel Weitzman (2000) in which he discusses three types of nen. “The first nen,” Weitzman says, “is
one with activity, without reflection, just direct perception. The second nen
is when we reflect on something and try to identify it by thought or think
about it. And the third nen is taking another step back and developing what the
second nen has thought about the first nen.” So, it seems fairly obvious that wonder is a first-nen phenomenon. Wondering,
on the other hand – the more thought-filled embrace of curiosity – must involve
nen of a higher order. Does that imply,
then, that wondering is of lesser
value than wonder? Hmmm…
Wondering
is an activity that I’ve long felt has been devalued by religious leaders
and practitioners alike. Back when I was trying to be a “good” Christian it
seemed that the most important thing that one could cultivate was faith, something
that wondering could only serve to
shake. That which one was “supposed” to believe and that which could withstand
the intense light of rational scrutiny were all too often very different
things. Unfortunately – or fortunately, as the case may be – I was born with a
very inquisitive nature. All too frequently, then, it seemed that my very
nature brought me into direct conflict with that which I was “supposed” to be.
This conflict percolated within me for quite a few years before I finally threw
up my hands in despair (figuratively speaking, anyway) and declared that if the
very intelligence and questioning nature that God has given me puts me into direct
conflict with His truth, then so be it! Banish me to Hell that I might chuckle
forever at the punch line of such a cruel joke as that! And so it is that I
have great sympathy for one of the Buddha’s followers – Malunkyaputta.
Malunkyaputta was off on his own
one day – wondering, as it turns out
– when it began to dawn on him that the Buddha had never expounded upon some
very basic questions: Is the universe finite or infinite in both time and
space? What is the relationship between the soul and the body, if indeed such
things as souls exist? Et cetera. To tell you the truth, I’ve always thought
that the Buddha’s response was just a little bit, shall we say, defensive:
"Malunkyaputta,
did I ever say to you, 'Come, Malunkyaputta, live the holy life under me, and I
will declare to you [the answers to these questions]?.... And did you ever say
to me, 'Lord, I will live the holy life under the Blessed One [in return for
the answers to these questions]?"
"No,
lord."
"Then that
being the case, foolish man, who are you to be claiming grievances/making
demands of anyone?” (MN 63)
To be fair, the Buddha was not
necessarily calling Malunkyaputta foolish simply for asking those questions. It
was more the fact that he’d predicated his living of the holy life on the attainment
of the answers to those questions that was foolish. Please read the entire
account of the incident, however, and make up your own mind as to whether the
Buddha thought that asking such metaphysical question was foolish in and of
itself. It’s a short sutta, and a link is provided in the reference section
below.
Now, whether or not you think that
the Buddha actually knew the answers to these questions or not says a lot about
your conceptualization of this thing we call enlightenment. In other words, does enlightenment afford us some kind of God-like knowledge of the
otherwise mysterious workings of the universe, or does it afford us, instead,
clear seeing of that which is before us? The Buddha, of course, goes on to
avoid that more modern question, pointing out to Malunkyaputta, and us, that
his teachings relate to the nature and the cessation of suffering – realities
that remain unchanged regardless of what answers might be given to any of those
most intriguing of questions. By the way, the aforementioned sutta contains the
very insightful parable describing the man shot with the arrow, and makes for
great reading if for no other reason than for that!
So, where does this unrepentant wonderer now stand? How do I reconcile
my wondering nature with my intention
to live at least some semblance of the “holy life” that the Buddha alluded to? I’m
reminded of the answer that a teacher once gave to someone who was wondering
whether the need to plan some aspects of our lives is inherently in conflict
with the Buddhist “ideal” of being “in the moment.” “When you’re planning,” the
teacher responded, “just plan.” Hmmm…
When you’re wondering, just wonder. Know that you are wondering. Celebrate the joyous reality that you
are neither hungry, nor thirsty, nor oppressed by loneliness or meaninglessness, nor in such physical pain
that you are incapable of enjoying this very human capacity. On the other hand,
don’t necessarily expect your wondering to provide you with any answers,
either! And if an answer should
happen to arise from time to time, don’t expect it to alleviate your suffering!
And that brings me to my reaction
to the recent landing of the spaceship Curiosity
on the surface of Mars. Despite the intense feelings of wonder that I once felt with respect to space exploration, I now
wonder whether our money could be better spent alleviating our seemingly
endless suffering here at home. This mindset left me cynically, but humorously
wondering how many illegal dumping citations we now face given all of the
hardware that we’ve left strewn around the solar system! Har har har… But then
I began to see the pictures that were being sent back to earth from so very far
away – from another planet altogether... And I began to wonder – the first-nen kind of wonder, mind you… And
after familiarizing myself with that sense of wonder once again, I felt just a little bit wiser – not because I
now know what the mountains look like up on Mars, but because I’m reminded yet again
of what it’s like to feel wonder.
 |
| Curiosity rover amidst its own debris - illegal dumping citation pending. |
 |
| A wondering extension of humanity ponders the mountains on Mars. |
References
Majjhima
Nikaya 63. Cula-Malunkyovada sutta: the shorter instructions to Malunkya
(Thanissaro Bhikkhu, Tr.). Access to Insight, 14 June 2010, http://www.accesstoinsight.org/tipitaka/mn/mn.063.than.html
Sekida, K.
(1985). Zen training: methods and philosophy. Published by Weatherhill, Inc.
Weitzman,
M. (2000). Commentary on the Enmei Jukko Kannon Gyo. Berkeley Zen
Center
Image Credits
Gazing at the ceiling of the Bahá'à Centre of Learning in Hobart, Tasmania by Jalal Volker via:
Curiosity
Landing Site and Subsequent Martian Landscape Image by NASA via:
Copyright 2012 by Maku Mark Frank
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