Kinfolk: Activism is to begin where we are, with what we love, and with the simple question of what is ours to do

When environmental thinker and activist Vandana Shiva visits a small town in Sweden, filmmaker Mattias Olsson records a conversation with her about forests, biodiversity and the meaning of activism. He then sends the interview to Maria Westerberg – a Swedish artist, poet and forest restorer.

Separated by worlds, the two women are drawn together by a shared understanding: that activism need not begin with confronting everything that is wrong. It can begin where we are, with what we love, and with the simple question of what is ours to do.

Yes, love has to be part of activism. It always is, we just need to be aware of what it is we love and bring that consciously into what we do. That gives our work direction and sustains and nourishes it over time.

As Joanna Macy said, there are three forms of actions in this context: (a) Stopping actions, stopping harm. (b) Creating and living alternatives, finding a more life-centered way of life. (c) Examining our current worldview and it’s shadow sides, and developing and living from more life-centered and integral worldviews.

All of these come from love. For me, I choose (b) and (c) although I have a great deal of appreciation and respect for those who chose (a) – that too is essential, especially in our times.

A Few Favorite Movies

I have been watching Criterion Closet episodes where filmmakers chose their favorite Criterion Collection movies, and sometimes ones they are curious about and want to watch.

Which ones would I pick? It could be an almost infinite combination of fascinating or enjoyable movies. Here are some possibilities, many but not in the Criterion Collection.

EARLY AND FORMATIVE FAVORITES

Akira Kurosawa – Rashomon, High and Low, Ikiru, Ran, Red Beard

Andrei Tarkovsky – The Sacrifice, Andrei Rublev, Mirror, Solaris

Kieslowski – Three Colors Trilogy, Double life of Véronique

Wim Wenders – Wings of Desire

Alfred Hitchcock: The Birds, Vertigo, Rear Window, North by Northwest

Lawrence of Arabia, The Last Emperor, 2001: A Space Odyssey, A Clockwork Orange

Ugetsu, Farewell my Concubine

Baraka, The Deep Blue, Cinema Paradiso, City Lights, The Third Man

In my late teens/early twenties, I went to Cinemateket in Oslo once or more each week, where they showed classics and hidden gems from around the world. In the summer, I would often go early, read on a bench in the park in the courtyard of the building, and then watch a movie – often with a friend.

LATER & RECENT FAVORITES

Ozu – Ohayo (Good Morning), Tokyo Story, Early Summer, Late Spring

Studio Ghibli – My Neighbor Totoro, Spirited Away

Pedro Almodovar – Pain & Glory, The Room Next Door, Parallel Mothers, Strange Way of Life

Taste of Cherry, Pan’s Labyrinth, Himalaya, Persepolis, Off the Map

Lunana: A Yak in the Classroom, Wolfwalkers, Past Lives, Certified Copy, The Life of Chuck, Train Dreams

A FEW MORE – HOLLYWOOD, FUN ETC.

80s movies – Blade Runner, Ghostbusters, Stand by Me, The Abyss, Alien, Aliens, Back to the Future, Cocoon, The Breakfast Club

Léon: The Professional, A River Runs Through It, Contact, The Dish

Star Wars – the initial trilogy

Wallace & Gromit – The Wrong Trousers, A Close Shave

Monty Python – The Life of Brian, The Holy Grail, The Meaning of Life

Wes Anderson – Moonrise Kingdom, The Grand Budapest Hotel

Steven Spielberg – Close Encounters of the Third Kind, Schindler’s List, Munich

Paul Newman & Robert Redford – Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, The Sting

Quentin Tarantino – Kill Bill, Pulp Fiction, Inglourious Basterds, Once Upon a Time… in Hollywood

Woody Allen – Bullets Over Broadway, Sweet and Lowdown

ACTUAL SELECTION

For a small selection, I would choose some that made an initial big and lasting impression on me.

The Sacrifice – a beautiful, poetic, and mysterious movie that made a deep impression when I first saw it.

Baraka – epic, beautiful, poetic, and a reflection on human life. I was lucky enough to see it (twice) in Colosseum, on the largest screen in Northern Europe.

Ugetsu – a gripping and fascinating ghost story.

Lunana: A yak in the classroom – heartfelt, simple, and most of the actors play themselves.

Good Morning – quiet, fun observation of human interactions.

The Double Life of Veronique – beautiful, poetic, mysterious.

WANT TO SEE

Children of Paradise, In the Mood for Love, Still Walking, The Salt of the Earth

Here is me on Letterboxd.

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Movie: Train dreams

I just watched Train Dreams and found it beautiful and deeply moving. It’s about universal themes of loss and impermanence, and I suspect it feels especially universal because of where it unfolds – in nature.

For me, it’s a reminder of my own grief and loss, and that it’s personal in that it’s happening here in this life, and it’s universal in that it’s shared by all life and all living beings.

Also, as life shows us, loss is what allows for something new. Impermanence is inherent in all experience, and it’s what allows anything new to be. Without it, nothing would be at all. Without it, I wouldn’t have this experience and this life. Without it, nothing that I love would exist.

The death of this experience allows space for the next. The death of one phase of my life allows the next phase. The death of individuals opens up space for new individuals. The death of species allows for new species. The death of one or a few particular stars allowed for this living planet.

Impermanence is the mother and father of everything that exists.

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There is a reason we have rules, and that reason is more important than the rules

I saw Blücher a couple of weeks ago, a Norwegian film about the commander at Oscarsborg fortress in April 1940 when German warships entered the Oslo Fjord. He acted in the absence of orders and decided to attack the ships, which gave the government and royal family time to escape Norway. After the war, he was (shockingly to us today) reprimanded for having acted against, or in the absence of, orders.

For me, this is a reminder that the reason for rules is more important than the rules themselves.

There is a reason we have rules, and it’s usually to support individuals and society. Ideally, rules come from a life-centered intention, and they often do here in Norway. (Although they are anthropocentric and outdated in that sense.)

Sometimes, we find ourselves in situations where following the rules would go against the intention behind the rules, and other actions – the ones that break rules – are more aligned with the original intention. The commander of Oscarsborg knew this. He chose to follow the intention behind the rules, which is to protect Norway and the Norwegian people, and break rules which would have allowed the warships to reach Oslo and likely would have led to the arrest of the government and the royal family.

The movie was also about appeasement and how it often doesn’t work with bullies. If someone doesn’t play by the rules and is intent on taking other countries, appeasement doesn’t work. That is, of course, relevant today with Putin’s ambition to (re)create the Russian Empire. I am mainly a pacifist, although I also know that sometimes having strong boundaries, metaphorically and literally, and having good allies, prevents something far worse. These days, Norway seems complacent in several ways, including by allowing Russian fishing vessels (many of which are likely spies) in Norwegian harbors, not having solid drone defense, and not being prepared for the kind of messy drone-centric warfare we see in Ukraine.

The Life of Chuck

I just saw The Life of Chuck. I enjoyed it throughout, and the ending made it even better.

In some ways, it reflects insights that come with awakening (our nature noticing itself), although it can also be touched without that awakening.

THE WORLD HAPPENS WITHIN US

To us, the world is within us. This human self, others, the world, the Cosmos – is all within me.

It happens within and as the consciousness I am. It happens within and as this awake space that I fundamentally am, and which forms itself into the experience of it all.

WE ARE AS RICH AS THE WORLD

I am as rich as the world, because the world – to me – happens within and as what I am.

I am also as rich as the world because I can take any story I have about anyone and anything, turn it to be about this human self, and find genuine and specific examples of how it’s true – very often even here and now.

WHEN WE DIE, OUR WORLD GOES AWAY

We are all, to ourselves, consciousness. Every “conscious being” is, to themselves, the same kind of awake space I am to myself. We are all a world.

When this biological being dies, that world goes away. Or maybe not, although even if not, this particular world – the world that came with this human self and his life in the world – will go away. It will be replaced with a very different content.

THE EPHEMERAL IS HOW ANYTHING IS HERE AT ALL

And that is beautiful. There is an immense beauty in the ephemeral nature of it all.

It’s here, and then it’s not. And that allows space for something else.

This experience is gone, allowing space for another experience.

The content of experience always goes, allowing space for new content of experience.

That’s how this world came to be. What was always goes, allowing space for something else. Stars come and go, and form themselves into solar systems with planets. Planets come to life. Ecosystems come and go, allowing space for new ecosystems. Species come and go, allowing space for new species. Individuals come and go, allowing space for new individuals. Civilizations come and go, allowing space for new civilizations.

FULL CIRCLE

This goes full circle.

If I notice the ephemeral nature of all content of experience, and if I keep noticing1, something happens2.

If it all comes and goes, without exception, then can I fundamentally be any of it? How is that even possible? And if I am not any of it, what am I?

If we stay with this, especially in meditation, there is eventually a shift.

Identification with any content of experience – this human self, ideas about being a doer or observer, and so on – soften and release.

And what I more fundamentally am, what we always are whether we notice or not, reveals itself to itself.

I notice that I fundamentally, in my own first person experience, am what all content of experience happens within and as.

I even notice that more fundamentally, I am capacity for it all – this awake space forming itself into this whole field of experience.

NOTES

  1. This noticing can be done through regular basic meditation practice – notice and allow, notice it’s all already noticed and allowed.
  2. The shift happens mainly viscerally and maybe not even consciously at first, until it’s unmissable by our conscious noticing.

Illogical behavior in fiction seems far-fetched, until I remember this world

I am watching the final episode of Andor, where the resistance leaders are reluctant to take the info about the death star seriously.

As I was watching it, my thoughts told me this is unrealistic, far-fetched, and written just to create tension.

The source has been reliable in the past. People have died for the info. Creating a super-weapon is just what the Empire would do. If there is just the tiniest possibility it’s true, they need to take it very seriously. It doesn’t cost much to take it seriously and seek to gather more info and do something about it. And it wouldn’t take away from what they would do anyway. It fits right into what they need to do no matter what.

So why reject the info? It seems too illogical to be realistic.

Then I remembered this world. A world where climate change is still debated and not taken seriously, even if… (a) The science is clear. (b) It’s a subset of a far more serious issue, global ecological overshoot, which we know is happening. (c) It doesn’t change what we need to do. We need to create a civilization with a much smaller ecological footprint, that’s not in ecological overshoot, and that is regenerative as a whole and in the details.

The resistance leaders in Andor rejecting the info seems illogical, childish, and unrealistic.

And yet, it’s exactly what we see in the world today when it comes to climate change and global ecological overshoot.

I should add something about why they reject the info. In Andor, they reject it because it comes from someone they don’t particularly like. They allow their own dislikes to override a more rational decision. That too is what we see in this world. Some of those who reject climate change – and don’t take ecological overshoot seriously – do so because they don’t like the ones who traditionally have taken it seriously. They don’t want to be associated with (the ones they see as) hippies and liberals. They hold onto an identity that doesn’t allow it.

Of course, that too is very human, a trauma response typical of our domination culture, and misguided, childish, and irrational.

One to One: John & Yoko

I just watched One to One: John & Yoko, a time capsule and glimpse into their social engagement in 1972-73. It’s also a reminder that the same dynamics are still very much at play today in society and within each of us.

Empire is still very much here. The mindset of empire is internalized in all of us, regardless of whether we consciously and actively join in with it or not. The resistance is here. And those identifying, examining, and undoing the mindset of empire in themselves are still very much here. (That undoing is also an undoing of any and all identities, including those in opposition to empire.)

Tonglen, the unpredictable nature of the world, and transforming my world

I watched Kyiv Soloists (Solistene), a documentary about a small Ukrainian orchestra on tour in Europe when Russia invaded Ukraine in February 2022. The movie follows some of the members and their lives over the next two years.

I found myself doing tonglen with the people in the audience and the ones in the movie, and later everyone involved in or impacted by the war, and also myself.

It’s a strong and moving story, and a reminder of how fragile all of our lives are. This world is mixed with ups and downs, shifts between situations our personality likes and doesn’t like, and it’s always in change and there is nowhere to arrive.

I can do my best to be a good steward of my own life, but I can’t change the inherently changing and unpredictable nature of life.

What I can do is transform my world, my experience of the world as it appears to me.

There are many ways to do that – inquiry, therapy, somatic work, and so on.

Heart-centered practices tend to be the most direct, in my experience.

And the one I find most effective, and am most drawn to, is tonglen. It can be profoundly transforming.

Whole & broken: Living with a disability

I watched Super/Man: The Christopher Reeve Story, a documentary about his life, disability, and activism.

Since I also have a disability, it made me look at wholeness and brokenness.

HUMAN BROKENNESS

At a human level, there is inevitably some brokenness. There may be slight brokenness in the form of some hangups, wounds, and physical ailments, or it may be more obvious brokenness in the form of trauma, illness, or disability. That’s how this life is. It’s part of life.

I also find wholeness.

WHAT I AM

As what I am, there is wholeness. As the consciousness I am – forming itself into the experience of this human self, health and disability, a life in the world, and the wider world – there is wholeness. I cannot not be whole.

The consciousness I am forms itself into (the idea and appearance of) brokenness and everything else, and as capacity for it all, I am capacity also for brokenness.

WHO I AM

As who I am, as this human self in the world, I also find wholeness.

I am as rich as the world. Whatever I see in the world is something I can find in myself.

I can take any story about someone or something, turn it to myself, and find specific and authentic examples of how they are true.

There is a wholeness here that’s as rich as the world.

PART OF THE LARGER WHOLE

As this human self, I am part of this seamless living system we call Earth, and I am a part of the seamless system we call the universe or existence.

As Carl Sagan said, we are the local eyes, ears, thoughts, and feelings of the universe. We are the universe bringing itself into consciousness. I would add that we are the universe investigating and reforming itself through and as us.

We are existence expressing, exploring, and experiencing itself temporarily and locally as us.

There is a wholeness here too.

A LIVED NOTICING AND EXPERIENCE

This is all a lived noticing and experience for me.

I am very aware of (some of) my brokenness in terms of my wounds, traumas, and physical disability and challenges.

I notice myself as this consciousness forming itself into this whole field of experience. (Headless experiments, the Big Mind process.)

I explore myself, at a human level, as being as rich as the world. I use the world as a mirror to find what I see there also in myself. (Projections, The Work of Byron Katie.)

I explore and remind myself of the Universe Story and that I am a local and fleeting expression of the seamless system of existence.

When I engage in meditation and mindful movement, especially over time, I find a visceral sense of wholeness. For me, Breema is especially good for this.

This is all an ongoing noticing and exploration. There is no finishing line.

Wholeness and brokenness are both here, and the brokenness is part of the wholeness already here.

THE IDEA OF BROKENNESS

Whatever idea we have of brokenness is an idea, it’s created by our mental field.

It reflects our culture, family, subcultures, and so on.

It’s a question about the world, as any other thought, whether we notice or not.

It’s worth identifying and questioning any ideas we have about brokenness and anything else that may be stressful to us.

Is it true that I am broken even if I have a disability? I find that my body works in amazing ways. It knows how to breathe, metabolize, speak, think, feel, walk, and much more. There is definitely a wholeness here, even living with a chronic illness.

Is it true I am broken even if I have traumas? I find that these traumas don’t exclusively belong to me. They belong to my family, my ancestors, my culture, and humanity as a whole. They are universals. They are something many of us live with, explore, and even make friends with. There is a wholeness here.

This helps me hold my ideas of brokenness more lightly. Yes, it’s true in a limited and conventional sense, and it’s a useful idea in some contexts. And it also misses a lot. It misses the wholeness that’s here. The wholeness that includes and goes far beyond anything we may consider “broken”.

Our Season (Korean movie) & using imaginary conversations for healing

I watched Our Season by Yook Sang-hyo on a plane ride yesterday and enjoyed it a lot.

In the movie, a daughter and mother have a strained relationship, the mother dies, returns in spirit form to see how her daughter is doing, sees that she is filled with regret and is making bad life choices because of it, and wants to help her. She finds a way to spend an evening with her daughter and they find resolution. The daughter is able to move on with her life and make use of her opportunities.

IMAGINARY CONVERSATIONS FOR HEALING

It reminds me of one of my favorite ways to explore healing.

Imagine the other person as whole, healed, wise, and kind, and wishing the best for everyone. (When we are whole and healed, we are able to tap into our wisdom and kindness, and we naturally wish the best for everyone.)

Have a conversation with that person. Have the conversation you really wanted to have with them, from receptivity, understanding, and wishing the best for each other.

Talk about what was difficult, ask questions, learn how that person experienced it and how they see it differently now from a healed place, share your experience, apologize, share what you wish for each other.

A FEW MORE DETAILS

I have used this with issues from childhood, especially with schoolmates from that time. It led me to understand them better and where they came from, and they understood me better. It shifted something in me and I see that situation quite differently now. (I understand that they may have felt threatened by my passion for learning and being a good student. I see how I used it to feel better about myself, and sometimes even better than them which gave them fuel for resentment.)

It is an imaginary conversation but it’s still real enough. It’s the type of conversation we would have if we were both whole and healed and came from our wisdom and kindness. It is a way to access the different parts of me represented by these people – me and the others. It is a way to change how I perceive them, me, and the situation. It is a way to find healing.

As with everything else, it’s all happening within and as what I am. The consciousness I am forms itself into all of it.

Of course, what’s missing is the unique perspectives and knowledge that the actual people would have, and actually having the conversation with them. Sometimes, it’s not possible to have that actual conversation since the other is no longer in our life. Sometimes, we or they may not be ready. Sometimes, doing this in imagination can lead to doing it in real life.

Sometimes, doing it this way has to be enough and can lead to resolution. We get to live and experience one way it would play out if we both were healed and came from a place of understanding, kindness, and well-wishing.

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Kiarostami’s Certified Copy

I just watched Kiarostami’s Certified Copy with its theme of copies and originals.

This is one that stays with me for a while and continues to unfold as it’s being digested. It was moving, relatable, and stimulated a lot of questions about the movie itself and the themes it brought up.

ONE WAY TO UNDERSTAND THE STORY

I thought I would start with a way to understand the story that makes sense of otherwise puzzling aspects and makes it rich, poignant, and heartbreaking. (Spoilers below.)

They were lovers fifteen years ago, and her son is theirs. They meet and live a day as if they had married fifteen years ago. At the end of the day, he leaves to go back to his wife and family.

This ties up several loose ends:

It explains her reserved seat and why she looks sad during his lecture. She arrives late and leaves early because it’s too emotional for her to see him, although she wants to meet him one-on-one so she gives her phone number to the translator to pass on.

He says yes to meeting her even if he leaves later that day. (If she had been a stranger, it seems less likely he would agree.)

He warns her that copies can be dangerous. He implies their connection can be dangerous since he already has a wife and family.

She bought six copies of his book and wants him to sign all of them. It seems like an excessive number of books, especially since she isn’t very interested in the topic. She bought them to have a connection with him, and maybe as a way to share him with her friends and family, either without telling them about the role he plays in her life or as a way to tell them.

There is tension between them in the car, which is understandable if they had something together fifteen years earlier. The tension would be odd if they were strangers.

He had not seen the painting in the museum before because they are not married and do not live together. He dismisses its importance to his work. Is it difficult for him to acknowledge that she would have contributed to his life in that way too if they had married?

When he tells her the story about the mother and son, he asks her if the mother told the son that the sculpture is a copy. She silently confirmed. He took it to mean that she had not told her son about him, about the “original” that the son is a kind of copy of. If they were strangers, it would be strange for him to ask her about an element in the story that he told.

When he receives the phone call, it may be from his wife which is why he felt he needed to answer.

She tells the café owner that he spends almost all of his time away from her and their son. She is emotional because it’s true. The café owner does not understand the situation so she repeats it. She also says that he didn’t call when their son had his birthday last week.

The café owner assumes they are married, and they immediately go with that fiction. They have both played out that scenario many times and they want to explore it together even if it’s for just a day. It’s easier for them to explore it through role-playing than talking about it directly.

He says: My family lives their lives and I live mine. She gets upset and emotional over this, which makes sense if he refers to her and their son. She and their son live their lives, and he lives his. They live separate lives.

He says: You cast me in the role of absent parent, but it’s natural for a parent to sometimes be away. She responds: Yes, sometimes, but in your case it’s constant.

They repeatedly bring up how the other has changed over the last fifteen years. The changes seem important, maybe because they are playing with the possibility of actually being together.

She rests his head on his shoulder, imitating the sculpture they discussed earlier. She has missed having him there to physically and metaphorically lean on.

She remembers the hotel and he does not. It meant more to her and had a lasting impact on her life.

Their interaction and role-playing take on a far more emotional and urgent tone in the last part of the movie. She sincerely asks him to stay because they can have something together. It’s not just based on this day but on what happened fifteen years earlier and their son.

Their imagining into having had a long married life together is a kind of copy. Actual marriages, including his, are the originals and the imagination is the copy.

This fits just about everything in the story and explains a lot that initially seemed puzzling to me and – I imagine – to many viewers.

I easily imagine that this is the story the three of them – the director and the two actors – had in mind while making the movie. It would ground the performances in reality and give the movie substance and richness.

It’s also not the one correct answer. The story is intentionally ambiguous and can be understood in many different ways, although other understandings seem to leave loose ends that this one makes sense of.

THE ROLE OF ART

Then to other aspects of the movie.

One explicit theme of the story is copies and originals, especially in art.

Art mimics life. Whether it’s visual, music, theater, or something else, it’s a copy of life. And yet, it resonates with us. It’s a mirror for us that touches on emotional, universal, and archetypal truths.

In this case, the movie itself is fictional and a copy of life, and I am watching one of many physical and digital copies of the movie. And yet, it evokes moods, emotions, memories, and reflections in me which are real and important. There is a reality to the story that resonates.

Art is not only a copy of life and nature, it’s a copy of art. It draws on generations of art production and our culture as a whole. This movie can be seen as a classic post-modern self-referential story. (Although there are many self-referential stories from other times and cultures.) It’s a variation on a theme.

COPIES AND ORIGINALS

Can we get as much out of copies as the originals? Is the difference only in the story we tell ourselves about them? Aren’t originals copies too and always based on something else?

Story is everything

If I tell myself another story, how does my experience change? I often explore this with art and life. In a sense, the story and context is everything.

For instance: If I knew this was my last day, how would I perceive and live?

This helps me notice how much my experience is created by my stories. That’s yet another reason to identify and examine the stories I operate from. What happens when I hold onto a certain story as true? How do I perceive? How do I live my life? What’s the genuine validity in the reversals of the story? Can I take one of those reversals and see how it is to perceive and live from it?

This also helps me see that all of my stressful stories, and they are all stressful when I hold them as true, come from somewhere else. They are copies. They are copies of copies of copies, passed on in our culture, and some possibly in all cultures, through the generations.

Originals as copies

Isn’t an original itself a kind of copy, always based on something else? When I explore creating AI images, I am aware that these images emerge from a network trained on a large database of images. They come out of a segment of the collective image-production of humanity.

Our current collective image production is itself based on our existing collection of images created by humans and nature.

The real artist is existence itself. Existence forms itself into this wonderous universe and nature, into us, into the art we create. In a sense, Existence is the only artist, expressing itself through and as this universe and us and human art.

Existence is always copying itself and exploring variations on existing themes.

When it comes to AI, there is an important difference between human-created and AI-created images, music, and so on. Human artists should be fairly compensated for their work and contribution. And it’s helpful to remember that all art is based on something else, it’s all variations on existing themes.

ROLES AND IDENTITIES

Are the two main characters a married couple who role-play meeting each other for the first time? Or did they meet for the first time and role-play being a married couple? Or is something else going on?

If identities and roles are so fluid, isn’t the difference between playing a role as a role-playing exercise, and playing a role in life, mainly the story we tell ourselves about it and how seriously we take it?

As Shakespeare reminded us, we all have our entrance and exit and play many roles throughout life.

And yes, the difference between role-playing as an exercise and role-playing in life mainly seems to be the stories we tell ourselves and how seriously we take them.

What roles do I play here and now? How would it be to take these roles less seriously? To hold them lightly? To even enjoy playing and exploring them, knowing they are roles and temporary?

IF IT’S ALL CHANGING, WHAT AM I?

This leads to the even more essential question: If stories are so exchangeable, and roles and identities also are changing and temporary, what am I more fundamentally?

I assume we all sense that there is, and we are, something more essential and lasting than any of this. There is a kind of red thread that goes through it all and all the changes.

What is it? Yes, at one level, I am this human self in the world with a variety of changing roles and identities. That’s a pragmatic view that helps this human self function in the world.

When I look in my own first-person experience, I find something else. I find this field of experience happening within and as consciousness, and I find I am what this field of experience happens within and as. Even more fundamentally, I am capacity for all of it.

As Douglas Harding says: I am capacity for the world.

From here, it’s easier to hold my identities and roles more lightly.

Parts of me will still try to hold onto some and avoid others, and they will struggle with this, especially in some situations. This too happens within and as what I am, and it’s good to notice.

What I am forms itself into that too.

WAYS TO EXPLORE

One thing is to get this mentally and in a general way, and another is to get it more viscerally and in the situation we are in here and now.

I find The Work of Byron Katie immensely helpful in identifying and exploring the stories I perceive and live from, and find what’s genuinely more true to me. (Which is often that the initial story isn’t as true as parts of me thought, that there is genuine validity in the reversals, what that validity is, and that parts of me want to explore how it is to perceive and live from those too.)

Different role-playing exercises can be helpful to have more awareness of the roles and identities I operate from, where they come from, how I relate to them, and so on. I find the Big Mind process especially helpful.

To find what I more fundamentally am, and explore consciously living from and as it, I find Headless experiments and the Big Mind process very helpful.

The image above is from a scene in the movie where the main characters unknowingly – or knowingly? – imitate a sculpture they discussed earlier.

Three Colors: Blue

I just rewatched Blue from Krzysztof Kieslowski’s color trilogy. When I watched it in my early twenties, I completely loved it and remember it stayed with me for several days. (Of course, I also fell in love with the actress and the cultured life in France.) I am happy to see that I still like it, although the experience didn’t feel as big this time. This time, I have already seen the movie. More importantly, I have lived many more experiences since then so the themes are more familiar in a visceral sense.

The main theme for Blue is liberté, freedom. Julie seeks freedom from the painful memories of her past life by escaping to an anonymous life in the city. She probably needs that life and distance for a while. And she finds real healing by going back – literally and metaphorically – to what’s left of her old life. She lives a life that uses ingredients from her old life with a new lover who was a friend of her deceased husband, finishing her husband’s composition, and – presumably – being in the life of his son with another woman.

She uses her old life as compost for a new life.

We take our distance from something and return to digest it and create a new life from it. Life invites us to return, and life sometimes requires us to return to digest and create a new life.

It’s a dynamic that happens in small glimpses in daily life, and sometimes through larger movements.

That’s familiar to me. In smaller ways, I cycle through leaving and returning and digesting. In a larger movement, I left my old life by going to another continent and living a different life and later returned – literally and metaphorically – to find healing in the old, to digest it and make it into compost for a new life.

Let’s say yes to all of it

Let’s say yes to all of it. Say yes to everything for as long as we can. Let’s drop dead some day saying yes. That’ll be a life. 

– Paul Child in Julia, Season 1, Episode 8 

The TV version of Paul Childs says this in the context of two opportunities that came up. They can find a way to say yes to both. 

It can also be understood as a more radical yes to life, which is maybe what he is suggesting in the next sentence. 

YES TO OPPORTUNITIES

It can be a yes to opportunities and experiences that could be fun and rewarding. 

If I can’t find a good reason to say no, why not do it?

YES TO WHAT’S CHALLENGING

It can be a yes to whatever is here, to whatever comes. A yes to it as a visitor. As life wanting to experience this too. 

It’s already here, so why not say yes to it?

It’s a yes to joy, grief, excitement, anxiety, contractions, and much more.

It’s a yes to confusion and reactions to hurt. It’s a yes to noticing what it is.

It’s a yes to impulses that come whether they are acted on or not. Sometimes, a yes is a yes to changing a situation.

THE YES BUILT INTO LIFE AND US

It can be noticing the yes that’s already here, the yes that’s built into life and what we are.

Something more fundamental than my preferences and wishes is already saying yes to it.

How is it to notice that yes?

THREE YESES

So here are three kinds of yeses.

The yes to opportunities, if there is no obvious reason to say no.

The yes to what’s here as it is, which sometimes includes actions to change the situation.

The yes that’s built into life and us to what’s already here.

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When matter appears conscious

All matter is conscious. All matter has life.

– Hilma af Klint in the movie Hilma (2022)

Yes, it can appear that way. We can sense it. Intuit it. Feel it. Even see it.

Why? It’s not so mysterious.

WHO AND WHAT WE ARE

It’s true that we, in a sense, are this human self in the world.

To ourselves, we are more fundamentally something else. When I look, I find am what the world –this human self, the wider world, and matter – to me happens within and as.

A thought may call it consciousness. I am consciousness, and, to me, the world happens within and as the consciousness I am.

THE WORLD WILL INEVITABLY APPEAR AS CONSCIOUSNESS

To me, the world is made up of consciousness. So it will inevitably appear as consciousness.

If the mind is strongly identified with ideas of being something in particular within the field of consciousness – this human self, a doer, an observer, and so on – then it may appear as if the world is fundamentally matter. I take myself as matter or an object, and the world appears as matter and full of objects.

When I notice my nature – as the awake space that takes the form of this whole field of experience – then the world is recognized as appearing that way too. The world appears as consciousness. It appears dreamlike because it’s made of what dreams are made of, which is the consciousness I am.

In between the two – in between taking myself and the world as matter and recognizing it all as consciousness – a lot can happen. There can be a sense of matter as conscious. That a tree or other object is looking back at me. And so on.

I suspect that’s where the Hilma af Klint quote comes from.

NOT SO MYSTERIOUS

Why is it not so mysterious?

It’s for a few different reasons.

This does not say anything about the nature of the world itself. It only says something about how we inevitably perceive it.

To ourselves, we have to be consciousness. Any “conscious being”, to itself, will inevitably appear as most fundamentally consciousness. It’s likely the same for humans, ants, antelopes, whales, and any other being that “has consciousness”.

Whether we notice it or not, it’s what we are most familiar with. In reality, we have never experienced anything else. We have never experienced anything other than the consciousness we are taking the form of all our experiences, including this human self, others, matter, states, thoughts, feelings, and so on.

It’s something we can explore for ourselves, for instance with the guidance of someone familiar with the Big Mind process or the Headless experiments. We can also find it through sense field explorations, for instance, a modern version of traditional Buddhist inquiry like the Kiloby Inquiries. We can find through basic meditation – notice and allow what’s here, and notice it’s already noticed and allowed – which can take a bit longer although may also be more visceral for that same reason.

It’s not so mysterious since… It’s only about how it appears to us. It’s what conscious beings inevitably are to themselves. It’s what we are the most familiar with, whether we consciously notice it or not. It’s something we can find for ourselves, especially with some skilled guidance.

Documentary: Fastest woman on Earth

I just saw The Fastest Woman on Earth which I found very moving, and gave me a more rich story than I had when I read about it in the news some years ago.

What stood out to me was her dream. Three times, she had the same dream. She dreamt she was in the cockpit, seeing herself from the outside as if she was not in her body. She said she felt she was leaving this plane of existence, and it was OK. This was not long before she died in a crash in the same car.

There are many stories like this, and I suspect a part of her knew what was going to happen, and also that dying is OK.

It resonates with a few of my own experiences. I have dreamt of things that later happened exactly as in the dream, including someone dying. I remember an out-of-body experience from very early in life, where I hovered over my body and saw events later confirmed by my family. As a child, I remembered the time before this incarnation, of being consciousness without a physical body.

I also remember Jung writing about these kinds of dreams. The dreams that predict our actual death tend to not literally depict our physical death. They are often more abstract, like this one. Although it’s possible that this one was literal in a different way: It’s very similar to what people describe from near-death experiences (NDEs).

Documentary: The Gullspång Miracle – do we trust truth?

I watched the documentary The Gullspång Miracle by Maria Fredriksson a few days ago. If it’s not obvious that stories from real life are often far more mysterious, intriguing, and baffling than most fiction1, this is a good reminder.

It starts as a miraculous and happy story. A series of odd events leads to an astonishing and unlikely meeting of sisters who previously didn’t know of each other’s existence.

That’s when the filmmaker gets involved, with no idea of the weird twists and turns the story would take.

A sister had died years before and the family thought it was suicide. Meeting her previously unknown twin revealed more of the story. At the time, the police judged it death by natural causes but had not informed the family. From the scene and witness testimonies, it seemed far more likely to be a murder. Someone seemed to have tried to cover up by making it look like a suicide by putting medicine packaging around the body. (There was no trace of medicines in the body.) The police had inexplicably not followed up on any of it. How could the police be that incompetent? Why didn’t they follow up on it now?

They had thought the sister who died had committed suicide because of embezzlement, but it was likely murder, and she had earlier told someone that she was being falsely accused and set up for it. This seems to be worthy of a follow-up as well.

The reason given for why the twins were separated seemed flimsy and involved WW2 Nazis. In the documentary, there was no discussion or follow-up on this.

The sisters never seemed to discuss why they were half and not full sisters. What’s the story?

DNA tests were oddly and inexplicably contradictory. Did someone do something fishy?

One thread through the story is the tension between a traditional conservative Christian orientation and a more modern one. For instance, the Christian part of the family saw the act of suicide as terrible. (To me, it’s far worse if someone feels that’s the way out. Wasn’t Jesus all about empathy?)

It all ends as it started, with a striking synchronicity: a chandelier crashes to the floor right on the spot where the filmmaker had just been. It happened at an emotionally charged moment, just after new and disturbing information came to light. This seems to have been the last straw for the main characters, and they use it as an excuse to abandon their pursuit of the truth.

It’s a story full of loose ends, as life often is. One of the many questions I am left with is if the filmmaker will continue to pursue this story. It seems there is still a lot to uncover there, and that some are invested in it not being uncovered.

To me, the essence of the story is whether we trust and prioritize the truth. Is it more important to us to keep things as they are and not rock the boat, or to find the truth? Do we trust the truth? Do we trust we can handle it and that it will all work out for the best if it comes to the surface?

Do we trust, as Byron Katie says, that truth is kind?

NOTES

(1) Of course, there is always an element of fiction in stories from real life. They are told from a certain perspective, are based on limited and sometimes wrong information, enhanced for effect, and so on. There are also essential elements of real life in fiction. Good fiction has truth in it about human life and dynamics and the world.

One life

I just saw the movie One Life. It’s a traditional based-on-true-events movie with a kind of story told before, and yet it had a powerful impact on me. One person can do a lot, with determination and some support.

We can all do a lot, more than we think. And, as the movie reminds us, if we save one life, we save the world. A life is a world, and we save that world.

When we help nature, we save lives too. When we are engaged in creating a wild garden, a forest garden, or reforestation with native species, we help innumerable beings. We can be the ones saving them from their holocaust, and in the process, we help ourselves.

In our own small way, we can do a lot. And it’s certainly not small for the beings that benefit from it.

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Out on a Limb

I happened to see Out on a Limb on TV at some point in my teens1. It’s a mini-series based on Shirley MacLaine‘s autobiographical book by the same name, and it was one of several small turning points on my journey. (YouTube has it, in a low-quality version.)

I have a hazy memory of just when in my process I saw it, but I remember the sense that it came to me just at the right moment. It showed me that it was possible to explore things outside of what’s the norm in a secular society. There was a community of people doing it, even outside of traditions, and although I didn’t know anyone personally I felt supported by that community. I read this and other books by her, and I read books by people she mentioned in her books. And so it got started.

Soon, I got into Taoism, Christian mysticism, Buddhism, and more. (Or maybe I had gotten into some of that already, I don’t remember.)

Her books may be New Agey and perhaps more at the fascination2 level than focused on actual practice. For some, that’s enough. For others, it can serve as an important stepping stone. It did for me, and for that, I am grateful.

NOTES

(1) Why did this come to mind? Partly because I started watching Postcards from the Edge with Shirley MacLaine, and partly because something just happened that is similar to a situation from one of her autobiographical books. (An internal shift in me in how I relate to someone corresponded with an immediate shift in the outer world.) I am also back in the same house where I first saw it and I am going through old things here, so that brings up memories.

(2) The fascination is also helpful, especially in the beginning. It helps people stay glued to the path and continued exploration. This fascination comes from projections. We see something “out there” that’s also in here, through exploring it in the world we get more familiar with it, and we can then more easily find it in us.

What are you painting? It’s a self-portrait

A man walks up to Tove Janson painting a dramatic nature scene.

What are you painting?

It’s a self-portrait.

I am watching Tove, a movie about Tove Janson, the Finnish author and artist who is the mother of the Moomins. I love it so far, and especially that scene.

Whatever we create is a self-portrait, even if it’s just walking down the street or drinking a glass of water.

More than that, anything in our world is a self-portrait.

The way I interpret and perceive something says something about me. It reflects my background, experiences, biases, orientation, dreams and hopes, hangups, and so on. (It reveals something about me.)

Whatever story I have about it, I can turn it around to myself and find specific and genuine examples where it fits. I can find any dynamics and characteristics I see in the wider world also in me. (I find The Work of Byron Katie very helpful here.)

To me, it’s happening within and as what I am. My world is happening within and as the consciousness I am. The consciousness I am forms itself into all of it. In that way too, anything is a self-portrait. (This comes from my nature noticing itself.)

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Lunana: A yak in the classroom

I saw Lunana: A yak in the classroom a couple of weeks ago, and it was the first movie I have seen in a movie theater since before the pandemic.

It’s a simple, beautiful, and heartfelt movie, and is still with me. It may be one of the most beautiful movies I have seen.

And it’s a reminder that impactful stories don’t need to be complicated or innovative or take an unusual angle. Powerful stories are often simple, heartfelt, and reflect a universal human experience.

In this case, an ambitious young teacher from the city is sent to a remote school and is deeply impacted by the simplicity, sincerity, and heartfeltness of the people there. And very movingly, one of the older villagers thinks the teacher may be the reincarnation of his favorite yak, returning to the village with his gifts and blessings. I also love that the villagers play themselves.

This is another rich topic. I loved this movie because of the heartfeltness and simplicity of the people, their way of life, and the movie. A part of me longs for that simplicity, and I find it in different ways, including by finding the simplicity of my nature and resting in and as that even as I go about my day. I feel sad that such a simple way of life is more and more rare. At the same time, I know that it’s often a hard life, and those living it often long for a more modern one.

Anything we can name is not what we (most fundamentally) are

I am watching Your Name which is about a teenage boy and girl who find themselves occasionally swapping bodies and life.

There is a lot to learn from imagining ourselves in someone else’s body and life. And although we cannot switch like this in real life, it does also point to our more fundamental nature.

THE ESSENCE: AS CONSCIOUSNESS, WE CAN TAKE ON ANY IDENTITY

To ourselves, we are consciousness. And as consciousness, we can take on any identity. We can take on the viewpoint of any story. And in daily life, we usually take on identities that happen to fit (more or less) our physical body and the life of this physical body in the world. If we had another body, we can take on the identities that fit that particular body and life.

To me, that’s the essence of the body/life-swapping part of the movie. We can imagine having a different body and a different life. And that’s because we are not, most fundamentally, our body. We are not, most fundamentally, any particular content of experience. We are consciousness, and as consciousness we can play with and take on any identities and viewpoints.

WHAT I MORE FUNDAMENTALLY AM

It’s not wrong that we are this particular human self in the world. It’s an assumption that works reasonably well in daily life. (Although it comes with some inherent stress.)

But is it what I most fundamentally am? What do I find when I explore my own first-person experience?

I find that I more fundamentally am something else.

I am more fundamentally capacity for all of these experiences. I am what this field of experience happens within and as.

A thought can call this consciousness. As consciousness, I am capacity for any and all content of experience. I am what forms itself into any experience that’s here. I am what forms itself into this experience of a human self and the wider world. I am what can take on any identity and any view.

THE CLUES ARE EVERYWHERE

When we discover this for ourselves, and as we get more used to finding ourselves as that, we also get to see that the clues are everywhere. What we are is always here. And the clues and pointers are also always here.

As suggested above, Your Name is also a pointer. If it’s so easy to imagine swapping bodies and taking on a whole new life and set of identities, what does it say about our more fundamental nature?

WE ALREADY SWAP BODIES

In a sense, we always swap bodies.

When I see you, you are happening within and as what I am. In my experience, what I am forms itself into you.

And who you see me as is not really here to me. I cannot see my own face or head. My name is a memory I have to access in order to tell you.

And I assume it’s the same for you.

When we meet, we swap bodies. To me, you happen within and as what I am. To you, I happen within and as what you are.

POINTERS AND FINDING FOR OURSELVES

This may make sense logically.

And that’s just another pointer. The invitation is always to find this for ourselves.

Fortunately, there are some effective pointers so we can explore and find this for ourselves. (For instance, Headless experiments and the Big Mind process.)

And fortunately, this exploration doesn’t require any spirituality, religion, belief, or anything else. It just requires some guidance, curiosity, and sincerity. And it does require some diligence to keep noticing and to explore how to live from (and as) this noticing.

ANYTHING WE CAN NAME?

Why did I say “anything we can name is not what we fundamentally are”?

It’s because the function of words is to differentiate, and what we are is what anything differentiated happens within and as. Words can, at best, point us to notice what we are. But they can never capture what we are.

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The Lost King – following your passion, trusting your guidance, and don’t judge a book by its cover

About a decade ago, Philippa Langley found the grave of Richard III. And there is a lot to this story I find fascinating.

She has CFS/ME, like me. And she found a way to still do what she loved and was guided to do.

She followed her passion, which – when done with some discernment – can lead to a deeply fulfilling life.

She followed, trusted, and followed up on her inner guidance. (She sensed where his grave was. Trusted it because it fitted what she knew from history and guidance from sympathetic historians. Followed through by raising money and asking the archaeologists to dig out a skeleton they found there. And found Richard III.)

She wanted to redeem someone vilified by history, and she went against the agreed-upon view of most historians. (Richard III was vilified by the following Tudors, and most historians took their presentation of him as accurate, even if it goes against contemporary accounts of him.) She showed kindness, even if it was for someone who lived several hundred years ago, and she had the courage to stand for what made sense to her.

The story is a reminder of an unfortunate tendency in our culture (or humanity), and that is to judge a book by its cover. Many stories, including the Tudor and Shakespearian story of Richard III, equates a physical distortion or unattractiveness with psychological distortion or unattractiveness. That’s obviously not how life is. And it’s unfortunate that some contemporary movies and books still use this lazy and outdated association. Why is this seen as OK when sexism and bigotry are not? They all fall into the same category. They are false equivalences that hurt people.

I saw The Lost King a few days ago, which is a fiction movie based on this story, and I thought it was an enjoyable watch.

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Solaris

I saw Tarkovsky’s Solaris in a movie theater in Oslo when I was around twenty and it made a big impression on me. I LOVED it. 

Here was a movie that reflected how we relate to our own unprocessed psychological material. 

On an ocean planet, there is a human research station. If people there have something unresolved with someone important from their past, the ocean will manifest these people. It’s impossible to get rid of them since they just come back, and it’s impossible to leave since it’s a research station far from Earth. It’s the perfect alchemical vessel. Some can’t deal with it and go crazy, and others take it as an opportunity to process and find a resolution. 

That’s a metaphor for life. Life (in the form of our mind) will always bring up what’s unprocessed in us, and we can relate to it in a few different ways. We can try to ignore it and pretend it’s not there. We can struggle with it and try to make it go away. And we can meet it, process it, find some kind of resolution, and perhaps even grow from it. 

At the time – in my teens and early twenties – I was deeply into Jung. I read everything the bookstores in Oslo (Norli, Tanum) could get from him, which was a few dozen books, and absorbed it like a sponge. And Solaris, of course, fits perfectly with exploring our shadow and finding healing for old unresolved issues.

I haven’t seen Solaris since then so perhaps it’s time to rewatch it. I have also wanted to read the story it’s based on, written by Stanislav Lem. 

P.S. I see the movie is available on YT now.

P.P.S. It’s now a few days later and I have listened to the audiobook and rewatched the movie. The story is certainly very Jungian and about the shadow, and full of reflections and metaphors. I still love the essence and that aspect of it. And I also see that this is something I loved at that time, in early adulthood, and I am now drawn to slightly different kinds of movies and books. (More gentle and heartfelt ones.)

Documentary: Ariel Phenomenon

I finally got around to watching Ariel Phenomenon and can highly recommend it.

THis documentary is about an event that happened at Ariel School in Zimbabwe in 1994, where dozens of children encountered a mysterious craft and one or two alien beings.

Some of the children described receiving a kind of telepathic message from the beings about the ecological crisis we are in. And the experience greatly impacted and transformed the lives of many or most of these children, who are now adults.

This documentary has clips from the 90s intermixed with current interviews with the witnesses.

Many consider it one of the most convincing mass sightings of an encounter with alien beings. (Whatever they may be, alien just means they are alien to us and doesn’t pin anything down about what they are.)

I have read about this event and listened to several interviews (including with witnesses) over the years, so there wasn’t too much new information or new angles in the documentary. But it does give a very good introduction to the story.

With all the material available, and all the angles to explore, this event deserves a series and not just a relatively short documentary. At the very least, I hope the unused material collected for this documentary will be made available online or in book form.

MORE QUESTIONS

Mainly, the documentary refueled my curiosity about several aspects of this event.

How has this transformed the lives of the witnesses? How did it impact each of them? Were the ones closest to the beings the ones who had the most profound transformation?

The local tradition has stories of similar encounters, and it seemed – from some comments in the documentary – that these encounters are ongoing. Is this part of the shamanic tradition? How do the indigenous see this? What role does it play in their lives? Do these encounters transform their lives in a similar manner? Who experiences these encounters? Shamans? Or anyone?

Exactly what did the witnesses experience? They describe black men, lights, sounds, and so on. What was the timeline? In what way were the beings black? (Skin color, clothing?) Did they have other sensory experiences? How does it look when we map out the different experiences of the different children, depending on where they were when they saw the craft and the beings? (This has probably been mapped out by the director of this documentary and/or others, and it was not possible to include it in a short documentary.)

I would love to do something on this but I have a feeling life is taking me in another direction. Although, who knows?

WORLDVIEWS

Part of the documentary is about John Mack and the reactions he received from his colleagues. He was a Harvard psychiatry professor who interviewed the children and took their experience seriously and wrote excellent books on these topics.

Personally, I find it small-minded to dismiss these types of experiences, especially when it was shared by so many. Whatever happened, it’s clearly something interesting to explore and study.

Also, we know how little we know. We know that our current collective worldview is provisional and will be seen as outdated in the future. We know that our collective worldview undergoes periodical revolutions. So why dismiss something just because it doesn’t fit our current worldview?

As one of the interviewed points out, it doesn’t make sense to dismiss something just because we don’t understand it or see it as not matching our current worldview. Also, there is no logic in accepting certain weird possibilities just because it’s part of our culture (e.g. Christianity) while dismissing other things (visits of alien beings) just because they are not part of our mainstream culture or mainstream academic culture. Why are angels OK and not aliens? Why is a belief in God OK but not a curiosity about beings from other places in the universe?

At the very least, we need to take a consistent stance on all of it. Either dismissing all, accepting all, or taking a more curious and grounded approach to exploring it all. And faced with the two first possibilities, the third is really the only one that makes sense. It’s the intellectually honest and consistent approach.

So why do some dismiss this event and these types of phenomena outright? One reason is that we all develop and attach to certain identities and worldviews in order to feel more solid and safe. We may dismiss it because we see it as threatening to their familiar identity and worldview. And this always comes with drawbacks. The drawback here is that we dismiss whatever doesn’t fit our identity and worldview.

Of course, some “UFO-believers” do the same in reverse. That too limits our exploration and prevents a more grounded and receptive approach.

I prefer to explore this in a more open way and remember how little we know and understand.

The Scarlet Witch and how we relate to our trauma

I watched Doctor Strange in the multiverse of madness which is one of many trauma-informed stories in pop culture these days.

In it, Wanda experiences immense pain from losing the love of her life, her (imagined) children, and more. And she deals with it by reacting to this pain.

She goes into an obsessive pursuit of being with her children in a parallel universe, no matter what the cost is to herself and others, and without considering if the children of another Wanda would accept her. In her obsession, she is unable to consider and take in the real consequences of her strategy.

REACTING TO OUR PAIN

We all sometimes do this.

We go into reactivity to our pain.

And when we do, it always has an obsessive and compulsive quality.

We may compulsively do just about anything to distract ourselves from the pain, or try to find a resolution to the pain.

We may compulsively eat, work, have sex, or go into relationships. We may obsessively seek something spiritual and engage in spiritual practices. We may compulsively go into ideologies about politics, religion, or just general ideas about how life should be. We may go into blame, hatred, biotry. We may go into shame and self-loathing. We may go into depression or anxity. We may go into pursuing perfection. We may seek fame and success. We may hide from the world. And so on.

Whenever anything has a compulsive quality, it’s a good guess that it’s an attempt to escape pain.

This is not inherently wrong. It’s our mind creating this in an attempt to protect us. At the same time, it’s not the most skillful way of dealing with our pain, and it inevitably perpetuates the cycle of pain and creates more pain.

It doesn’t deal with the real issue so it’s not a real solution.

RELATING TO OUR PAIN MORE CONSCIOUSLY

Is there another option?

Yes, we can relate to our pain more consciously and with a bit more skill and insight.

We can learn to genuinely befriend our pain.

We can meet our pain with love. And this is often easier, at first, when we use a structured approach like metta, tonglen, or ho’oponopono.

We can feel the physical sensation aspect of the pain and rest in noticing and allowing it.

We can dialog with the part(s) of us experiencing the pain. We can listen to how it experiences itself and the world. We can ask what it needs to experience a deep resolution and relaxation. We can ask how we relate to it, and how it would like us to relate to it. We can ask what it would like from us. We can find the painful story it operates from, and help it examine this story and find what’s more genuinely true. (And often more peaceful.) We can find a way to work together more in partnership. And so on.

Through this, we may come to realize that the pain is here to help us, and even our reactivity to the pain is here to help us. It’s our psyche trying to help us. It comes from a wish to protect us, and it’s ultimately a form of love. And it often reflects a slightly immature way of dealing with pain. It’s the way a child deals with pain when they don’t have another option. And that’s no coincidence since these parts of us were often formed in childhood when we didn’t know about or have experience with other options.

We can also find our own nature – as capacity for the content of our experiences and what the world, to us, happens within and as. Notice that the nature of this suffering part of us is the same. (It happens within and as what we are.) Rest in that noticing. And invite the part of us to notice the same and rest in that noticing. This allows for a shift in how we relate to the suffering part of us, and it invites the part itself to untie some tight knots and reorganize.

MYTHOLOGY OF OUR TIME

Whether we like it or not, big Hollywood blockbusters are the mythology of our times – at least for large parts of the world.

So it’s wonderful to see that some of these stories are trauma-informed.

They help us notice patterns in ourselves, at least if we are receptive to it.

Yes, I am like Wanda. I sometimes go into reactivity to my pain and become compulsive about something. That can create even more pain for myself and others, and it doesn’t really resolve anything. And there is another way.

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Dune and fascination with saviors

I watched the recent Dune movie and although it seemed technically flawless, I also wasn’t too moved or captured by it. (Although I will certainly watch part two when it comes out.)

I was reminded of the fascination with saviors we collectively have, some more than others. And, in this case, a predestined and prophesized savior.

WHY ARE WE FASCINATED BY THE SAVIOR?

Why are we fascinated with saviors and the savior archetype?

One answer is obvious. We may feel we need to be saved, sometimes and in some areas of life. Life seems too difficult. We may experience a lack of direction or meaning. We may want someone else, or life, to save us instead of doing it ourselves.

Another answer is that outer saviors mirror ourselves. We have that savior in ourselves. And a fascination with saviors in the world, stories, or in the past or future, is an invitation to find that savior in ourselves. A fascination with saviors “out there” is, in the best case, a stepping stone for shifting into saving ourselves. We are the predestined savior of ourselves and this may or may not come to fruition here and now.

BEING OUR OWN SAVIOR

How do we save ourselves?

We can save ourselves in the way we wish to be saved by someone else. If I had a magic wand and could be saved by someone else in exactly the way I wish and long for, how would it look? And how would it be for me to give that to myself?

Here are some possibilities I find for myself when I explore this:

I can give myself advice as I would a good friend. I can ask for help when I need it. I can notice and follow my inner guidance, the small inner voice. I can learn to befriend myself through the kind of self-talk a good parent or friend would give me. I can learn to meet my experiences with allowing, kindness, and curiosity. I can be a good steward of my life. I can find healing for how I relate to my world – whether I call it myself, my experiences, others, situations, or life in general. I can give myself the chance to do what I have always wanted to do, or have a calling to do. And so on.

FINDING WHAT WE MORE FUNDAMENTALLY ARE

And we can save ourselves by finding what we more fundamentally are in our own first-person experience.

In the world, I am this human self. And if that’s all I am aware of, it will feel incomplete since it is. It will feel like something is off because it is. I haven’t noticed most of what I am.

More fundamentally, I am something else in my own immediate experience. I find I am capacity for the world as it appears to me. And I am what the world, to me, happens within and as. I find myself as the oneness the world, to me, happens within and as.

And here, I find that I am – in a sense – already and always saved. Oneness doesn’t need to be saved. Anything related to being saved or not happens within and as oneness. To me, the world is already saved since it happens within and as oneness. (And that’s just one part of the picture since there is always saving to be done in a more conventional sense.)

I find the wholeness that my apparently broken self happens within and as. I find the inherent health that my illnesses happen within and as. I find the wholeness our apparently broken world happens within and as. And so on. And that doesn’t mean I won’t seek healing for my broken self, or treatment for my illness, or – as mentioned – seek healing for our society and ecosystems.

EXPLORING THE SAVIOR DYNAMIC

So I may notice our collective fascination with the savior archetype, even if it happens in a story like in Dune.

I can find this fascination in myself. I find examples of when and how I wish to be saved. When I dream of a savior to come and rescue me. (In periods of distress, I certainly notice it.)

I can identify more specifically how I wish to be saved, in specific situations when this comes up.

I can find ways to give it to myself.

I can find my more fundamental nature and where the ideas of saved or not don’t apply.

And I can still engage in support and metaphorical saving in a more conventional sense, as needed.

This is not about “doing it all myself”. This is more about finding my savior in myself, and sometimes that savior will ask others to help me.

THE BEFRIEND & AWAKEN PROCESS

These days, I find myself drawn to what I call the befriend & awaken process.

I notice a contraction in me. Contractions are uncomfortable, so these parts inherently wish to be saved and some other parts of me wish to save them.

I notice the physical contraction and where it is in my body. I rest with it. I notice it’s already allowed.

I notice it’s here to protect me. Thank you for protecting me. Thank you for your love for me.

I find what the contraction wishes for, what it more deeply wants. I may try out a few possibilities, give each one to it, and see how it responds. For instance, love, a sense of safety, support, being seen, and so on.

I notice my nature, and that the nature of the contraction is the same. It happens within and as what I am. In another language, I see it as a flavor of the divine.

I invite the contraction to notice its own nature and rest in and as that noticing.

I take time with each of these explorations. I rest with it. I notice how the contraction responds and how it relaxes and unwinds when I find something that resonates with it.

This is one way to deeply “save” the parts of us that may feel they need saving.

Note: There will always be parts of me that don’t want to save these other parts of me, and they themselves are contractions that can be explored in this way.

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Adapting to our more real identity vs attaching to a familiar mistaken one

I was rewatching a couple of Star Trek: Voyager episodes, including Course: Oblivion.

We follow the crew and ship, strange things start happening, and they discover that they are not who they thought they were. They are a substance that can mimic living beings and objects and that formed itself into the Voyager crew and starship. Some embrace their real identity and want to go back to the planet they came from. Others cling to their more familiar and mistaken identity and try to live out that life, even if it means the end of them.

It’s a great idea for a story, although not so well executed. (The buildup is brief. Most of them immediately accept what they really are, which seems unlikely. And it’s not explained so well why some insist on living according to their mistaken identity even if they also accept their real one.)

And as with any story, it can be fun and helpful to use it as a mirror for ourselves.

EXPLORING IT AS I WOULD A DREAM

If this was my dream, how would I explore it? What do I find?

The essence of this story is: A group of people live from mistaken identity. They realize what they really are. Some adapt and want to live according to their real identity. Others want to continue living according to their familiar and mistaken identity, even if it means their destruction.

SOME PARTS LIVE FROM MY TRUE IDENTITY, OTHER PARTS FROM MY OLD MISTAKEN IDENTITY

I can find that in myself.

At some level, I notice and accept my real identity. In my own first-person experience, I find I am capacity for the world as it appears to me. I find I am what the world, to me, happens within and as. That’s my moe fundamental identity.

And at another level, I am used to my familiar human identity. This identity is not wrong, it’s just limited and not what I more fundamentally am in my first-person experience.

Sometimes, I perceive and function more from my true identity. And other times, I revert back to following my mistaken identity. (Especially when unhealed parts of me are triggered.)

Said another way, and just as with the Voyager crew, some parts of me accept and live according to my true identity. And other parts still operate from my old familiar mistaken identity.

CLARIFICATION & TRANSFORMATION

This points to an important part of the awakening process.

It’s relatively easy to notice our nature, especially if we have some pointers and a guide familiar with the terrain.

The challenge is in keeping noticing our nature through daily life – through different states, through different situations, in different areas of life, and even when unhealed parts of us are triggered.

The challenge is in recognizing any content of experience, including that which is unpleasant and our old patterns don’t like, as flavors of the divine. As happening within and as what we are, and having the same nature as we do.

The challenge is in inviting our human self to transform within a more conscious noticing of oneness, and inviting all the different parts of us still operating from separation consciousness to realign with a more conscious noticing of oneness.

How do we do this? We all have to find our own way, and I have written about it in more detail in other articles. These days, I am most drawn to the befriend & awaken process.

NOT EXACTLY MISTAKEN IDENTITY

I should mention that I don’t feel completely comfortable talking about mistaken identity. It works in this context, with this TV episode, but is not competely accurate.

It’s not wrong that we are this human self. It’s just not what we more fundamentally are in our own first person experience.

The two already co-exist (they are aspects of the same), and we can notice the validity in both and live from and as both.

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Stranger Things & the shadow

I love Stranger Things.

Like many others, I love it for its 80s nostalgia and for being more 80s than the 80s were. I love it for the characters which often are more stereotypical than their inspiration. I love it for the dialogue. I love it for bringing Kate Bush back on the charts and introducing her to new generations.

And as with any story – whether it’s fiction, mythology, or about others or the world – we can explore it as a dream. We can use it as a mirror for ourselves.

What I see in Stranger Things is a group of nerds and outsiders, much as myself at that age. (A part of me wishes I had found the type of community back then that they have, which is perhaps also why I enjoy watching it.) They don’t quite fit in. Some of them are bullied.

And I see the upside-down as one of many representations of what Jung called the shadow. The parts of all of us that don’t fit into our conscious or desired identity. The parts we sometimes push aside or even deny. The parts of us that may take on the form of monsters since they are exiled and we are unfamiliar with them.

In this case, we can take it even more literally and see it as the shadow we tend to create for ourselves if we feel like an outsider, if we are bullied (or bully), and so on. We may experience a mix of emotions and painful beliefs and identities — pain, loneliness, self-criticism, blame, bitterness, anger, sadness, victimhood, and so on. And since these may be painful and confusing to us, we may partially exile these experiences and parts of ourselves. We may also attack the sides of ourselves we feel are responsible for us being outsiders, so these become partially exiled. When these experiences and parts of us are exiled, they tend to take on the form of monsters to us. They go into our shadow. They don’t fit into our conscious or desired self image. And they can look, to us, as the upside-down.

Stranger Things operates from a classic good vs evil duality, at least so far. But it does also have some healing qualities. It shows healing and supportive friendships, which mirror how we can be friends with ourselves. (Even as we may also battle other sides of us.) The new season gives us more understanding of how the upside-down may have been created, and with understanding comes a less adversarial relationship. (Although they’ll still need to protect themselves and their world.)

How could Stranger Things reflect an even more mature process and way of relating to our shadow?

I am not sure, there are several options. In Star Wars, we got the back story of Darth Vader so we could understand him better and find empathy with the person he used to be. We learned that the hero (Luke) and villain (Darth Vader) were as closely connected as two people can be. And the villain was redeemed before his death.

In Jim Button and Luke the Engine Driver by Michael Ende, the main characters capture the evil and dangerous dragon. Instead of killing her, they put her in a cage so she couldn’t do more harm. And that allowed her to transform into a golden wisdom dragon for the benefit of everyone.

Stranger Things does hint at intimate connections between the main hero (Eleven) and Vecna and perhaps the upside-down itself. If that theme is continued, it reflects the intimate connection between the two. They are both parts of each of us. And if we create a “good” identity for ourselves that excludes certain things in us, then what’s excluded is often transformed into apparent monsters. (This also goes for excluding discomfort and pain. What we exclude tends to take on the form of monsters to us.)

It’s also possible that One (Vecna) could be redeemed. In terms of contemporary storytelling, that could be seen as a bit naive and sentimental. (Unless it’s well done with realism and grittiness, which they probably could pull off.) But in terms of mythology and reflecting inner processes, it would give us another image in popular culture that shows how we can find redemption for parts of us in the shadow.

And it’s possible that Eleven somehow, through facing her past and the uncomfortable sides of herself, could redeem herself and the upside-down. It could bring about a transformation of her and the upside-down. Again, if the story was to reflect a healthy and deep inner transformation, something like that would happen.

Note: I am writing this after having seen the first release (this first seven episodes) of the fourth season.

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Anakin & Judas

I see that Anakin Skywalker plays a central role in the upcoming Obi-Wan Kenobi series.

There is something beautiful in how Anakin is written The prequels show his journey from a gifted and innocent child and youth to someone who – through loss and trauma – descends into bitterness, resentment, and hatred. Darth Vader isn’t just a regular villain and evil character. He was the boy Anakin who later became Darth Vader through how he responded to his own loss and pain.

THE ARCHETYPES OF STAR WARS

The original Star Wars trilogy was explicitly written around archetypes, especially Luke’s hero’s journey, and that’s one reason it resonates so widely.

These archetypes mirror universal parts and dynamics in each of us in a clear and simple way that brings out their essence. We are fascinated by these stories because, somewhere in us, we want to better get to know these sides of ourselves.

WHERE DOES THE FASCINATION COME FROM?

We may be fascinated with archetype-rich stories for a couple of different reasons.

The fascination may be built into us through evolution. Fascination with archetype-rich stories helps us to get to know more about these universal human dynamics, and that gives us a survival advantage. It helps us relate to them more consciously when we meet them in the world or in ourselves.

We are also inherently whole, whether we notice it or not. Our mind seeks to bring this wholeness into consciousness. One way that happens is through a fascination with what appears as “other” while it’s in reality us. And archetype-rich stories are an especially good way for us to learn more about universal dynamics and how they may play out in our life and in ourselves.

A third reason, which rests on the two other, is that all (?) human cultures emphasize archetypal stories. We grow up with fairy tales, mythology, and other classic archetypal stories. This may even further encourage our inherent draw to these stories.

ANAKIN & JUDAS

I’ll focus on Anakin’s journey to Darth Vader here, and Darth Vader’s redemption, and leave out the other archetypal dynamics in Star Wars.

For me, Anakin is an example of how we sometimes respond to our pain in a way that hurts ourselves and others.

In the case of Anakin, he indulged in hurt, anger, and reactivity. And when this becomes extreme, some like to label it “evil”. (I don’t find it a useful label.)

Judas is a similar figure. He is an image of how we all sometimes react to our own hurt and pain by betraying our inherent kindness, clarity, and wisdom. Judas betrayed Jesus. We sometimes betray our own clarity and wisdom by how we react to our own pain.

And there is no lack of these types of figures from fiction and history. Sometimes, they are presented as just inherently evil. Other times, we are presented with a background story that presents their journey from a relatively healthy person to one who indulges in reactivity to their own pain.

ANAKIN SKYWALKER & DARTH VADER

Anakin’s story shows us what happens when we respond to our pain with reactivity, and specifically bitterness, victimhood, and so on. We all do this, sometimes and in typically less dramatic ways.

And Darth Vader is both an example of how it looks when we live from this, and that we always have an opportunity to turn it around. He turned it around at the very end of his life. He chose to meet his pain and respond to it differently, in a more honest and vulnerable way.

HOW WE RESPOND TO OUR PAIN

We can respond to our emotional pain in two general ways.

We can react to the pain. This can feel good at the moment. And it’s really a distraction from the pain, it tends to create more pain, and it also reinforces the habit of reacting to pain.

And we can befriend our pain, which invites healing for how I relate to it (reinforces a habit of befriending instead of reacting to) and it invites healing for the pain itself.

When we react to our pain, we seek to distract ourselves from the pain. And the best way to ensure distraction is to go into compulsions and a pattern of indulging. We can be compulsive about and indulge in just about anything: Work. Status. Perfection. Sex. Relationships. Entertainment. Food. Anger. Sadness. Ideologies. (Political ideologies, conspiracy theories, etc.) Spirituality. Awakening. Healing. Religion. Victimhood. Blame. Bigotry. And so on.

A MIRROR FOR OURSELVES

Anakin and Judas and a wide range of similar figures from fiction and history are a mirror for ourselves.

What stories do I have about each of these? What do I find when I turn that story back to myself? Can I find genuine examples of how and when it’s true?

How do I react to my own pain in a way that hurts myself and others? In what situations have I done it? Can I find specific examples?

How is it to befriend my pain instead of reacting to it? How is it to explore this when the pain is milder and I am in a supportive setting of exploring how to befriend it? How is it to support and deepen a new pattern in how I respond to my pain?

This is an ongoing process, and it’s important to have some compassion for ourselves in this exploration. Many of us are trained to react to our pain instead of befriending it, at least when it comes to some types of pain and in some situations. It’s often an ingrained pattern, and something we have learned from family and culture.

How is it to befriend any reactions in me when I notice I still sometimes react to my pain instead of befriending it?

SOME WAYS TO EXPLORE IT FOR OURSELVES

Most or all of the approaches I write about in these articles can be used to explore this for ourselves.

We can use tonglen, ho’oponopono, and forms of prayer to shift how we relate to this in ourselves and others. We can shift how we relate to our own pain, and what triggers our pain.

We can use inquiry to examine our beliefs about our own pain, and what triggers our pain, and find what’s more true for us. (The Work of Byron Katie.)

We can explore how our mind – largely through associating mental representations with sensations – creates its experience of all of this, including the identities we create around it. (Traditional Buddhist inquiry, Living Inquiries / Kiloby Inquiries.)

We can engage in dialog with these parts of ourselves. We can listen to what they have to say and how they experience the world and us. We can help them see things in a way more aligned with reality. We can learn to recognize them as parts and relate to them more consciously. And so on.

We can find our nature and what we are in our first-person experience. This helps us recognize all of this as coming and going and living its own life, and it’s not what we more fundamentally are. (Headless experiments, Big Mind process.)

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Dealing with one’s pain through a passion

I am watching Tony Hawk: Until the wheels fall off which is a reminder that real-life, when filtered and presented in a certain way, sometimes has every bit as good dramaturgy as any fiction story.

A few times during the documentary, he and others suggest that he deals with his pain through skateboarding.

A RELATIVELY HEALTHY WAY TO DEAL WITH OUR PAIN

Of the many strategies we can use to deal with our emotional pain, that one is relatively healthy.

There are many worse ways to do it, including drugs, anger, depression, mindless entertainment, bigotry, fundamentalism, and pouring our energy into less life-centered careers.

Skateboarding is also something obviously he loves. It has given him a successful career and a way to provide for himself and his family. And it has given inspiration and joy to many.

And this strategy, like any strategy that doesn’t deal with our pain directly, doesn’t heal the wounds. They’ll still be there and they will color our perception and life until they are dealt with.

WHAT HAPPENS IF WE DEAL WITH OUR PAIN MORE DIRECTLY?

What happens if we deal with our pain more directly and find healing for our pain? Does our passion fall away?

As so often, the answer may be that it depends.

When there is less need to deal with the pain through a passion, other motivations – existing or new ones – come more in focus. If we have a deep love for it, as he seems to have, then that love will come even more to the surface. We will likely still engage in our passion, perhaps even as much as before, although from a slightly different set of motivations.

And if there isn’t much love for what we are doing, we may decide it’s not worth it or we may find another set of motivations that make sense for us. I am reminded of the difference between athletes here. The ones who do it for their love of the sport often continue even after their professional career is over. And the ones who did it for less heartfelt motivations often quit. (And may even swap it for smoking and eating as exemplified by a well-known female Russian skier.)

A NOTE ABOUT DANGER

Towards the end of the documentary, they talk about the danger inherent in what they are doing.

The sensible choice is to take it easy and don’t risk so much. And yet, going full in is that’s what gives them joy and a sense of meaning. Life is not always about being sensible.

Enough people live sensibly, so there is room for people who stretches it a bit further.

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Wolfwalkers & our relationship with the wild in nature and ourselves

I loved this movie in many different ways. And as any good story that deals with primal archetypes and archetypal dynamics, it can be interpreted at many different levels.

It can be seen as a metaphor for how humans treat each other, including how the English have treated the Irish. It can be seen as a more literal story about how humans treat nature and the wild. And it can be seen as a mirror for dynamics in ourselves, and how we civilize ourselves at the expense of the primal aliveness in ourselves.

A BRIEF HISTORY OF HUMAN RELATIONSHIP WITH THE WILD

It’s easy to imagine a history of the human relationship with the wild, and it will – by necessity – be somewhat speculative when it comes to the early history.

Before agriculture and civilization as we think of it, people lived in nature, with nature, and from nature. They may have had more of a partnership relationship with nature and the wild, and they likely respected nature out of necessity. They had a more nature-oriented spirituality. They didn’t have much property so they didn’t have much hierarchy. They may have had a more matriarchal culture. The inevitable damage to nature was limited since their numbers were small and their technology simple, and they also moved if they needed to which limited their impact on the areas they were in.

With agriculture, this all changed. We could accumulate wealth. We had more division of labor, tasks, and skills. We developed a hierarchy. The ones higher up in the hierarchy developed a wish to control others and the general population. We got culture as we know it. We got more removed sky-God religions. We got a more patriarchal culture.

We lived in tamed landscapes or towns and cities. With agriculture, we depended more on tamed nature. We lived more distanced from the wild. We depend much less on the wild. The wild became “other” to us. For those higher up in the hierarchy, it became in their interest to also tame the population.

We learned to tame nature and ourselves, and find this comforting and the wild scary and unsettling and perhaps even evil.

Our human relationship with the wild shifted. We went from living in and from the wild to becoming distanced from it and viewing it often as something scary and suspicious. We learned that taming ourselves and nature was safer.

WHAT DOES TAMING OURSELVES MEAN?

We know what it means to tame nature. It means to make the wild into agricultural land, towns, and cities. Replace wild forests with planted forests. To kill any animals – typically large predators – we see as competitors or any danger to ourselves. And so on.

But what does it mean that we tame ourselves?

In one sense, it just means that we learn to live with others and in civilization. We learn to express our feelings with words instead of through actions that may harm others. We learn to cooperate. We learn to take others into consideration when we make our choices and live our life. This is natural for us since we are a social species and it doesn’t necessarily come at much or any cost. 

In another sense, it can mean that we tame ourselves at the cost of our aliveness, sense of connection and meaning, and authenticity. This happens when we take taming ourselves in a slightly misguided way. We may deny our emotions or needs, wishes, and desires instead of acknowledging or expressing these and finding ways to get our needs met. We may disconnect ourselves from our body and nature and feel disconnected, ungrounded, and aimless. All of this tends to come as a consequence of believing painful beliefs and identities and perceiving and living as if they are true. And these painful beliefs and identities tend to come from our culture or subculture. They are passed on and shared by many if not most humans in our culture, and some may be common across cultures – especially in our modern world.

HOW DO WE REWILD OURSELVES?

Rewilding nature is a popular topic these days, and very much needed for the health of nature and ourselves and our culture.

But how do we rewild ourselves?

There are several approaches, and what works best is probably a combination of the ones that resonate the most with us – and that may change over time.

We can connect with nature through spending time in nature, gardening, spending time with non-human species, learning about nature, spending time in the wilderness, learning to survive in the wilderness, spending time at a bonfire, looking at the stars, and so on.

We can connect with our body by walking barefoot, receiving bodywork, doing different forms of yoga, learning to recognize and take seriously the signals from our body, and so on.

We can engage in nature-centered spirituality and rituals, including the Practices to Reconnect from Joanna Macy.

We can shift our worldview from one of separation to connection and oneness, for instance through deep ecology, the epic of evolution, the universe story, ecospirituality, system views, integral models (AQAL), and so on.

We can engage in actions on behalf of other species, the Earth, and future generations. These may be small and “invisible” everyday actions or more visible in the world. These may be actions to stop damage, change our culture, or envision and implement life-centered alternatives.

We can learn to notice and acknowledge our emotions and wishes, needs, and desires. We can find ways to express this and meet our needs in a kind way. We can find a more authentic way to live that’s kind to ourselves and others.

We can identify fears we have of rewilding ourselves.  What’s the worst that could happen?  What does my culture tell me could happen? What do I find when I examine these stories? What’s more true for me? How is it to meet and be with the fear and allow it as it is? How is it to find love for it? 

We can find healing for any emotional issues that create a sense of separation and lack of connection, aliveness, groundedness, and meaning.

We can identify and investigate the views and beliefs that create a sense of separation – with ourselves, others, nature, and the universe as a whole. We can identify beliefs passed on through our culture. We can find them in ourselves and inquire into them and find more freedom from them and what’s more true and honest for us.

We can connect with and taste the wholeness we are at a human level, through a combination of meditation, body-centered practices, emotional healing, and more.

We can explore what we more fundamentally are in our own first-person experience. At one level, we are a human being in the world. And what do I find when I explore what I am in my own first-person experience? I may find I more fundamentally are capacity for the world as it appears to me. And what the world – this human self, the wider world, and anything else – happens within and as. I may find myself as the oneness this human self and the wider world happen within and as.

This is not only for the benefit of ourselves. It benefits our culture. It may help our species survive. And it will likely benefit other species, this living planet, and future generations.

Note: This article itself is an example of rewilding ourselves. I saw the movie three or four weeks ago, made a few notes, and allowed it to rest. Today, I was moved to write the article and it came out easily and naturally, without much if any effort.

When I saw the movie, I noticed I wasn’t ready to write the final article. I knew that pushing it would be uncomfortable and likely wouldn’t give a good result. So I allowed it to rest and digest on its own, and I waited for it to come to fruition in me and move me to write it.

I planted the seed, waited, and it sprouted in its own time in the form of this article.

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Attachments vs solidarity and loyalty

Armorer: In order to master the ways of the force, Jedi must forego all attachment.

Din Djarin: That’s the opposite of our creed. Loyalty and solidarity are the way.

– The Book of Boba Fett, Return of the Mandalorian, 18 minutes in

This is an interesting topic.

ATTACHMENTS

We don’t really have attachments to people or places or things. We have attachments to certain stories telling us we need these and it’s terrible if we don’t. Attachments come from beliefs, issues, and hangups.

And although they come from innocence and are normal, they also function as a kind of prison. They limit our options and make us act from reactivity.

Without them, there is more clarity and kindness, and more possibilities for a range of actions.

And without attachments, we can still have friends and family and even be loyal and act in solidarity.

SOLIDARITY & LOYALTY

The question about solidarity and loyalty is who or what we are loyal to and in solidarity with.

Is it just a small group as opposed to everyone else?

Or is it to a much larger group or even life itself or something else?

We can be loyal to humanity, or Earth, or all life. We can even be loyal to the universe in the sense of the context of the universe as one seamless system that everything we know is an expression of.

We can also be loyal to honesty, kindness, our more fundamental nature, and so on.

THE RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN THE TWO

Attachments will limit our perception and options which is why the Jedi work on having a conscious relationship to attachments and find ways for them to undo themselves.

With a more conscious relationship with attachments and a lighter load of attachments, it’s easier to live from loyalty and solidarity, whatever is the focus for our loyalty and solidarity.

So the philosophies that respectively Grogu and The Mandalorian follow may have more in common than The Mandalorian seem to think.

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It’s not a theory?

I was watching the trailer for the new Foundation series, where Seldon says: It’s not a theory, it’s the future.

Yes, it’s not a theory. It’s a model. It’s a guess. It’s a question.

It’s a question about the future.

Even if it has been accurate in most or all cases, it’s still a question.

I love Asimov’s Foundation series, but that part of the dialog in the trailer was a bit disappointing to me. When he says “it’s not a theory, it’s the future”, it shows a fundamental and elementary misunderstanding about theories and science.

Any theory, model, and so on, is a guess and a question about the world. Some may be consistent with a huge amount of data, and they are still guesses and questions. They are maps. They are different in type from what they are guesses about. Reality is always different from and more than any map.

I assume the quote is not from the book since Asimov himself was a scientist and knew better. And if I am honest, if it had been in the book, I would likely have abandoned it at that point.

I’ll still watch the first episode since I love the story it’s based on.

Note: The model Seldon refers to is a complex modelling of the future of society.

Wanting to know how fiction ends

Why do we have an impulse to know how compelling fiction ends?

FICTION CAN GO IN ANY NUMBER OF DIRECTIONS

I have often thought it’s a bit silly.

The story is made up anyway. It can go in a number of widely different directions.

It’s easy to imagine alternate endings that the author plausibly could have chosen. The reason the author landed on a particular ending may be because ofpersonal fascination, wanting to subvert expectations, wanting to draw in an audience, wanting to highlight a particular feature of human life, setting it up for the next part, practical or resource reasons, or something else.

Sometimes, the ending we looked forward to can even be disappointing, as we have seen in a recent TV series (GoT) and final movie trilogy (SW).

If this was the whole picture, there would be little or no reason to want to know how a story ends. So there must be something more going on.

EVOLUTIONARY IMPULSE TO TAKE IN STORIES

One answer may be in evolution. We have likely evolved to be fascinated by stories since these told our ancestors something important about themselves, their community, and their world. Stories gave them a survival advantage.

It’s easy to see how this is the case with stories from real life. The way the story is told reflects community values and orientations, so the listener gets to absorb these. And the content can offer practical information about social interactions, interactions with nature and wildlife, how to deal with unusual events that may return, and so on.

To some extent, fiction – mythology, fairy tales, tall tales – did the same. Fiction also conveyed cultural values and orientations. It gave people insights into interactions within the community and with outsiders and the natural world, and so on.

And it’s easy to see that the ending is an important part of the value of all of these stories.

Taking in compelling stories, from beginning to end, gave our ancestors a survival advantage.

GOOD FICTION REFLECTS DEEPER TRUTHS

There is an obvious value in stories from real life. We learn through the experience of others and how they chose to tell the stories.

And compelling fiction does the same, in a heightened form. Good fiction distills the essence out of real-life stories and reflects universal human truths. They are a way for us to learn something essential about ourselves, others, and the world.

NO CLEAR LINE BETWEEN STORIES FROM REAL LIFE AND FICTION

There is a fuzzy boundary between stories from real life and fiction.

When we tell stories from real life, we inevitably interpret, filter, highlight, leave out, and get things wrong. The story reflects us and what we find important, our worldview and values, our hangups and limitations, and so on. As we know, these stories are often told quite differently by others.

And compelling fiction reflects universal human dynamics and insights and has a deeper truth.

There is always an element of fiction in stories from real life, and elements of real life in fiction.

WHY DO WE WANT TO KNOW THE ENDING?

So why do we want to know the ending of fiction? Even if it’s obviously silly since the story is made up anyway?

One answer may be evolution. It gave our ancestors a survival advantage to take in stories, told by others in their community, from beginning to end.

P.S. Sorry for the lack of simplicity and clarity here. I have had a quite strong brain fog for a few weeks, and it makes it difficult to write with flow and clarity. Hopefully, I can return and clean this up a bit.

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Solaris & finding resolution

I watched the Icelandic series Katla, and notice it has a similar theme to Solaris. Material from a meteorite seems to have the capability to sense who people are longing for, and make them come into life as flesh-and-blood beings.

Tarkovsky’s Solaris was one of my favorite movies in my late teens and early twenties. In this case, an ocean planet is able to sense what’s unresolved in the scientists on a space station, and manifests people they have something unresolved with.

The movie beautifully and clearly shows two general ways we can relate to what’s unresolved in us. In Solaris, most struggle with it and go deeper into trauma. And the main character takes the opportunity to interact with the person manifested from his life, and find resolution.

And that’s how it is for all of us. Life brings up whatever is unresolved in us, and we can either struggle with it and maintain or reinforce the issue or trauma, or we can take the opportunity to get to know it, befriend it, and find resolution. To find resolution, we often need to go through some struggle, we need to heal our relationship with what’s coming up, and that allows the issue itself to find healing.

I should mention that Solaris is based on the book by Stanislaw Lem by the same name. And Katla is more of a regular fantasy story which does reflect dynamics in ourselves, but it lacks the beautiful clarity of Solaris.

The Matrix: There is no spoon

Boy: Do not try and bend the spoon. That’s impossible. Instead… only try to realize the truth.
Neo: What truth?
Boy: There is no spoon.
Neo: There is no spoon?
Boy: Then you’ll see that it is not the spoon that bends, it is only yourself.

– The Matrix, about 1:11 in

As so often, there is some truth to this and it’s easy to misunderstand.

This is not about bending spoons. It’s about realizing what we are.

What are we in our own first person experience? What are we if we are honest with ourselves, and set aside what others have told us we are?

We may find that in our own experience, we are capacity for the world. We are what our field of experience happens within and as.

There is a spoon in a conventional sense. And when we notice what we are, we also realize that the spoon is not what we thought. It happens within and as what we are. Any boundaries and labels come from our own mental representations and are not inherent in what they appear to be about.

Since the spoon happens within and as what we are, if the spoon bends, we are the bending.

In the movie, this is about bending spoons as a way to discover and explore how the matrix is created by the mind. For us, it’s about noticing what we are.

Noticing what we are doesn’t give us any special powers. It’s about noticing what we already are, and if we continue to notice, it’s about our human self transforming within that noticing.

It may seem that it gives us something. But it ultimately doesn’t give us anything. What we notice is that we are not anything in particular within our field of experience. There isn’t any separate one to gain anything.

Also, the process of transformation is, as Adya says, a destructive process. It’s not really what our personality wants.

Finding the one

I rewatched the 1984 version of Dune, and am reminded of the savior theme.

Paul is the one, the savior, the messiah. As was Luke in Star Wars, Neo in the Matrix, Jesus in Christianity, and many others across cultures.

Why are we collectively fascinated with the savior?

The obvious answer is that we want to be saved, and we may think someone else can save us. Perhaps it’s a special human, or a divine entity.

And there is another answer.

We are that savior. The world is our mirror, and the savior we see out there was here all along.

This savior can also take many forms.

It can be finding genuine care and love for ourselves and our experiences.

Becoming a good and loving parent for ourselves.

Becoming a safe haven for ourselves.

Finding more of the wholeness of what we are as a human being.

Learning to find healing for our wounds and traumas.

Finding what we are – capacity for the world, and what our field of experience happens within and as.

And perhaps a combination of all of these and more.

The Matrix and our world

The Matrix – with its real and virtual worlds – is explicitly an allegory for our world.

In what way is our world like The Matrix?

In a literal sense, it’s theoretically possible – although probably unlikely – that this world is created by some beings like in The Matrix. And in a metaphorical sense, we all believe things others may want us to believe and we can wake up from those illusions.

There is also another way, and one I find equally or more interesting.

Our world is created through an overlay of thoughts, of mental images and words. This overlay is what makes sense of this world and also helps us visualize a past and future and a wider world beyond what’s here and now. It’s where all labels, assumptions, values, and so on come from.

This overlay is virtual. It’s imagined. It’s created from thoughts to help us orient and function in the world. It’s completely essential for our survival.

And it makes our world quite a bit like The Matrix.

How can we take the red pill?

The safest and most lasting and effective way may be through inquiry, and especially sincere inquiry over time.

Through headless inquiry, we may discover that we are capacity for our world. The world, as it appears to us, happens within and as what we are.

Through traditional Buddhist inquiry, and modern variations like the Living Inquiries, we may discover how our mind creates its own reality. How it associates sensations with thoughts… so the sensations lend a sense of solidity and truth to the thoughts, and the thoughts give meaning to the sensations.

Through The Work of Byron Katie, we may discover that the thoughts and assumptions we held as true are not as true as we thought, and not true in the way we thought.

Through basic meditation – notice and allow what’s here – we may come to hold our thoughts a little more lightly which supports these forms of inquiry.

And so on. There are innumerable forms of inquiry and supporting practices that can be helpful here.

I am personally not interested in the path of psychoactive drugs. Although they can give us a glimpse of this, it’s dependent on chemical, it’s often transient, it may come with side-effects, and there are other approaches that are more reliable and thorough.

Why would we want to take the red pill?

There is some inherent suffering, discomfort, and struggle in taking our virtual world as inherently true and real.

Taking the red pill may not remove the suffering, discomfort, and struggle, but it can make it much easier. It can help us not struggle with it, and that – in itself – is a big relief.

Also, some of us seem drawn to truth, or love, or returning home, no matter what the cost may be. In that case, it seems we don’t have that much choice.