Looking Back
Saturday July 31, 2010
So, as I’ve mentioned in the last couple of posts, thinkBuddha has now been around for five years. I don’t know how five blog years translates into human years, but I’m almost certain that if one could do the calculations, then the beard of this here blog would be flecked with grey.
I am writing this from Wuhan, China, whilst steeling myself for a night of hard-seat train travel to Jinan; so in the meantime I thought I’d take a brief tour of the last five years.
My first post, on July 29th 2005, was called Buddhism Without Buddhism. Back then, I wrote as follows:
Buddhism Without Buddhism: a resolutely irreligious Buddhism; a Buddhism that is rooted in human meanings rather than in fantasies of the sacred; a Buddhism that is pervaded by a thoroughgoing this-wordliness: it is, perhaps, an impossible thing to hope for. But at the same time, I find the idea extraordinarily attractive, it has become a touch-stone for how I think about Buddhism. But with a question mark at the end, just for good measure…
I started the blog, incidentally, not long after I turned down an invitation to be ordained into the Triratna Buddhist Order, an organisation (formerly known as the FWBO) that has not been without its fair share of controversy, but which I always found to be made up of an enormous number of thoughtful, sincere and intelligent practitioners. In the end, what made me draw back from joining the Triratna Buddhist Order was that it was simply, well, too Buddhist… That is, it was too close to traditional Buddhism, and after ten or fifteen years of fairly serious practice, I began to be uncertain about at least some aspects of the edifice (or edifices) of Buddhism as a whole. So the blog was, in part I think, an attempt to think out loud and to work out where I stood on some of the questions that perplexed me.
When I was up and running – domain name bought, site set up and everything – I kicked off with a few book reviews, some of them republished from the now defunct Dharma Life magazine, which was edited by the estimable Vishvapani, and a piece that I still rather like on flying yogis. Back then I was still working on PhD in philosophy – which last year saw the light of day as my book Finding Our Sea-Legs
It is this, above all else, that has made writing the blog so rewarding. Quite a lot has changed in the past five years – I’ve published a couple of books, finished my PhD, and picked up a job working with the fine folks at De Montfort University – but even more recently, when time has been a bit more limited, it has remained a pleasure to write. Over the years, there have been a few recurring preoccupations: the idea of materialism (and also see here) or naturalism; the practice of writing blogs; meditation (see also here); free will ; the puzzling and far-from self-evident nature of experience ; various puzzles over traditional Buddhist teachings ; and science (also see here). There have also been various interesting moments, including a storm in a teacup over transhumanism, Marvin Minsky and the New Scientist, and a mention in 2009 in the Sunday Times’s list of one hundred best blogs of the year (a list that was by no means peer-reviewed or in any way systematic) thanks to a somewhat flippant post on Buddhist buses. And also, along the way, perhaps the blog has become less Buddhist and more Buddhish, but this is wholly in keeping with that first post.
When I started this blog, I did so without any clear plan; and I still have none. So I do not know what the next five years will bring. But for the time being, I’m planning to keep on writing when I get the time an when the right thoughts strike me. Thanks to all for your support over the past five years. And as for celebrations, later tonight I’ll be raising a glass of green tea in the hard seat carriage, somewhere between here and Jinan.
Buddhist? Buddhish? Non-Buddhist?
Monday July 26, 2010
Today I visited the Yuelu Buddhist temple, here in Changsha, China (a place that proudly flies both the Chinese flag and the international Buddhist flag – a curious juxtaposition) and as I sat in the courtyard, I found myself reflecting on the question – once again – of my relationship to Buddhism. What started me thinking was how curious it was that my most immediate response to finding myself in the quiet courtyard was to want to pull up a cushion and sit down and meditate. If I didn’t do so, because something about this act would have seemed ostentatious – it seems that this isn’t really the done thing. Instead I sat quietly, just taking in the peaceful atmosphere, enjoying the cool of the shade. and reflecting
As long-term readers will know, in the five years since this blog was started (five years – can it really be that long?), I have tended to identify myself less and less as a Buddhist. My scepticism about many of the claims that are made within Buddhism, and my unease with the cultural worlds of Western (and Eastern) Buddhism have grown. But at the same time, my intellectual interest in the various worlds of Buddhism has tended to decrease as well. I don’t find myself turning to Candrakīrti, for example, or to Dōgen, for stimulation or for invigorating thoughts. This is not an argument against either of these thinkers, it is just that they don’t seem particularly urgent to me at the moment. I am having too much fun reading and thinking about Zhuangzi. Or reading about brain science. Or reading a hundred other things that are seem to be currently proving fruitful.
So… Buddhist, Buddhish, not-Buddhist…? (Here I’m tempted to play the Buddhist logic game, once again, but I’ll resist the temptation.) Which of these? I don’t really know. But perhaps what has changed most over the past five years is that I no longer really care that much. Back in the day, it mattered to me, and it mattered profoundly, that I was a Buddhist. These days, it doesn’t. When it comes to the elaboration of Buddhist ideas, the grand schemes, the subtle philosophical positions, I suspect that I simply haven’t the energy to engage with these ideas; similarly when it comes to the more rigorous practices, I can’t quite summon up the appropriate level of interest. Both philosophically or in terms of practice, I don’t really have the taste for extreme-sports Buddhism, and seeing those that do, I am not entirely convinced that it is the path to a form of life that I find particularly appealing.
Nevertheless, when I look more deeply, and when I look at thoughts that are, in a sense, more homely and everyday, there is a kind of ineradicable Buddhishness to the way I see the world, and for this I am grateful. I am grateful to be rid of the idea of the self as an enduring entity that must be protected and shored up; I am grateful for the knowledge that the world is supple, that it changes moment by moment; and I am grateful to be rid of the idea that it might be possible to transform the world so that it is entirely to my liking. Not only this, but I am grateful for the various practices that continue to allow me to poke and prod at my habitual assumptions about what I am, about what it means to perceive the world.
As I have come closer to the five year mark, I have sometimes thought about the name of this blog and whether it is still appropriate. One thing I have wondered is whether the name of the blog has itself tended to limit the kinds of things I talk about. I am listed in various places as a Buddhist blogger, but is this even accurate? In the end, it all depends on what you mean, although perhaps it might be good – from the point of view of that practice of writing this blog – to free myself a little from the sense of obligation to be “Buddhist” or even “Buddhish”, and to simply get on with the business of thinking out loud and writing.
And also, of course, much depends on what happens next, and that is something that one really can’t second-guess. This blog, like everything else, is changeable and without self-nature. Onwards. Let’s see what happens!
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Lowdham Book Festival
Thursday June 24, 2010
I don’t know how many regular thinkBuddha readers live in the Midlands, but if you do and you fancy a day out on Saturday, then I can highly recommend the Lowdham book festival, which takes place in Lowdham outside of Nottingham. There is a full day of events on Saturday 26th, and I’ll be rounding things off in the Lit and Phil tent at 4.15 giving a talk called A Good Story? A tour of ethics in five tall tales, during which I’ll be talking about the Buddha, Laozi, Epicurus, Socrates and Confucius, and also explaining why – if set upon by violent assailants – you shouldn’t take refuge in the houses of Kantian philosophers.
To be honest, there may be more than five tall tales. Or perhaps fewer. Who knows? But if you’d like to come along, by all means do so, and do hold back at the end and say hello. It would be great to meet any thinkBuddha readers who can make it on the day. I will, of course, try to flog you a copy of my book. But you are at liberty to refuse.
If you do want to come along, then come earlier in the day, as there’s some wonderfully rich and diverse stuff happening. And it’s free as well!
On the Move
Wednesday June 23, 2010
I’m now in the final stages of preparation for my forthcoming trip to China – not something I’ve blogged about here much, although those who have been following my Twitter feed (in the sidebar of this site) may have been keeping up with my varying successes and humiliations as I try to get to grips with the Chinese language. I’ll be in China for seven weeks or so, doing research for a novel which is still in the very early stages.
The last few weeks have been a whirl of sorting out funding applications, buying tickets, arranging visas, making contacts in China, practising my Chinese, and tying up loose ends here so I can have a fairly clear head over the summer; so there’s not been much time left over to blog. But yesterday I stumbled across the following passage written by Alison Gopnik in her book The Philosophical Baby
Travel and meditation lead to the same kind of experience by opposite means. When you travel you expose yourself to so much new and unexpected external information that you overwhelm the usual mechanisms of attentional selection and inhibition. Everything around you is more interesting than the things that you would normally attend to (like getting to a particular meeting). When you meditate, you starve the usual mechanisms of attention. You give them almost nothing to work with and you consciously try to avoid focus, inhibition, and planning. The result is similar: just as a lot of new information can overwhelm the inhibitory mechanisms, so shutting down the inhibitory mechanisms can make even everyday information seem new.
Meditation and travel seem to end up causing what philosophers call the same phenomenology – the same type of subjective experience. In fact, a lovely thing about meditation is that you can visit Beijing without leaving your room.
Of course, there are many kinds of meditation, leading to very different kinds of phenomenology; but there is something in what Gopnik is saying. Habits of thought – the kinds of habits that in meditation you try to circumvent – are contextual, because we are creatures who are not separated out from the world. We spin worlds around ourselves the way that spiders spin webs. And because these worlds are made up of things that, more or less, stay put – all those shelves of books, the pictures on the wall, the everyday furniture of our lives – we can easily find that this world-spinning can hamper our ability to move through the world with lightness (of course, on the other hand, too much lightness may not be ideal either – but that is for another post), or can lead to a diminishment of suppleness in our thinking and our living. You could perhaps put it like this – reversing Gopnik’s own line: the lovely thing about visiting Beijing is that you can meditate without even sitting on your cushions.
It is perhaps for this reason that I tend to write well when I am travelling. I see writing as a matter of discovery, and of then shaping these discoveries into something that captures something of what it is to be human. When I travel, ideas come easily. But it is only when I stay put that I find that I am able to start on the business of shaping, reshaping, cutting, developing and editing the material that I have gathered.
Anyway, I’ll still be blogging from China, as thinkBuddha.org seems to be unaffected by the Great Firewall, and I hope to take in a fair number of Buddhist sites whilst I am there. If any readers have any suggestions as to where I really shouldn’t miss whilst in China, do let me know either in the comments or through the contact form (accessible from the menu at the top of the screen). I’d be delighted to hear from you.
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Tweet, tweet, tweet
Monday May 24, 2010
This morning I decided to meditate outside. It was a beautiful morning, the sparrows were chirruping, and the work room where I study, write and meditate was piled high with books and things. So I took my cushions outside and sat down in the shade. Bodhicattva, the thinkBuddha cat was a little perplexed by my break with my usual routine, so he padded around and prodded me from time to time before deciding that I was no fun and leaving me alone.
There’s something particularly lovely about meditating outside. The last few weeks have been busy ones: I’ve been working on two chapters of a philosophy book, I’ve been marking student essays likes crazy, I’ve been editing the children’s book that is due out next year (about a gloomy marsh-dwelling furball called a Snorgh) and I’ve been planning for my forthcoming trip to China (something about which I have not yet written a great deal, so I must do so before too long). As a result I’ve not had a great deal of space to think about anything else, and I have not given thinkBuddha as much attention as I would have liked. But this morning, as I sat there listening to the sparrows and the distant traffic and the sounds of people in houses down the block getting up and clattering about, my mind began to settle and a bit of much-needed space began to open up again.
Anyway, whilst on the subject of tweeting and general neglect of this site, I noticed a few days back that my Twitter feed integration on this site had stopped working. So this afternoon I’ve been giving it a nip and a tuck, and now – after a few curious problems and bugs that resulted in this website being down for a short while – it should now be up and running once again. Apologies for any disruption!
Easy, Tiger
Friday February 12, 2010
Recently I’ve been up to my ears in a very early draft of the next philosophy book, which draws fairly extensively – more extensively than I imagined it would at the outset – on various traditions of Chinese philosophy.
Alongside my reading, I’ve also been trying to get my Chinese up to scratch, and this has been enormous fun: I quite like the feeling of being utterly out of my depth, the sense that here is a task unlikely to be exhausted any time soon. I’m both trying to get a handle on modern Chinese, and also to develop some ability to read literary Chinese, which should – somewhere down the line – open up all kinds of philosophical resources.
My language learning has been given a kind of increased urgency, as I’ve recently heard that I’ve got the funding to head to China later this year for a month and a half, to do some research towards the next novel, and to spend a bit of time adding some final touches to the forthcoming philosophy book. As it will be my first trip to China, if anybody has any advice about anywhere that I really shouldn’t miss, or knows of any friendly Chinese philosophers I should look up, then let me know.
I’ll write more, no doubt, about the next philosophy book as time goes on. But now I have to go back to my labours over a hot stove: this weekend I’m hosting a tiger party to celebrate the coming Chinese New Year, and tomorrow a bunch of friends are coming to help welcome in the year of the tiger. There’s still a lot to do: there are tiger cookies to make, and I still have to paint some stripes on Bodhicattva, the thinkBuddha cat.
So I’ll leave things here, and wish you all a happy new year!
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Guest Blog at Legend Press
Monday December 14, 2009
Just a quick post, this one. I’ve just had a guest blog post published over with the lovely folks at Legend Press. The post says a little bit about how I came to write my philosophy book Finding Our Sea-Legs. Here’s an extract:
Sometimes reading philosophy can be like visiting a natural history museum – fascinating, compelling, thought-provoking, perhaps, but when it comes down to it, all the animals are stuffed. I like to think that Finding Our Sea-Legs is less like a taxidermist’s collection, and more like a zoo. Or, in keeping with the nautical theme, more like a zoo afloat, a raucous philosophical Noah’s Ark, populated by talking fish, philosophical woodpeckers, rutting buffalo and palmwine-stealing gods.
For the rest of the article, go to the Legend Press Website.
