Just walk

In a lovely manga I've been reading, the Solo Mountain Climbing Girl, near a three thousand meter summit making and having coffee, asks: "I wonder ... 'why is the mountain beautiful/no matter who lays their eyes upon it?'" (A haiku.)

In the next panel she replies to herself, "You are allowed to ask, but you are not allowed to answer ... to limit nature's splendors with words would be foolish." [sip, sigh]

The first three of Siddartha's Four Sights* are: an old person, a sick person, and a corpse. From these he drew the conclusion that drastic measures might have to be taken to avoid these unavoidables, so he took his hint from the fourth sight, that of a meditating sadhu, and left home. 

These sights and their significance stick with him over time:

I am of the nature to grow old. There is no way to escape growing old.

I am of the nature to have ill health. There is no way to escape having ill health.

I am of the nature to die. There is no way to escape death.

All that is dear to me and everyone I love are of the nature to change. There is no way to escape being separated from them.

My actions are my only true belongings. I cannot escape the consequences of my actions. My actions are the ground upon which I stand.

-- Upajjhatthana Sutta (“Subjects for Contemplation”) 

So far, so good. He's seen entropy and its inevitability. He also experienced the unsatisfactory path of the self-abnegating sramana.

He and I, raised in different cultures, may not have quite the same take on why one does whatever one does next. Buddha, or certainly nearly all his followers then and since, clearly thought there was some kind of afterlife with rewards and punishments, though he denied the unchanging soul depicted in his natal Brahmanic faith.

The legends do seem to show Buddha expecting his new monks to be able to keep to the path of non-harm as soon as they have accepted his positive instructions on how to live. On finding that they would need guide rails, he reluctantly provided them.

Bodhidharma mentions, almost in passing, that precepts are already implicit in awakened behavior:  "Bud­dhas don't keep precepts. And buddhas don't break precepts." But I think we will all agree the bar is high on that one. Perhaps something more alarming was required by a society already steeped in its own juices -- and still is.

The idea of hell is even enshrined in the Sotoshu's basic statement of faith, stated as applicable to all laypersons and priests (and made up of quotes cut and pasted from Dogen), the Shushogi:

When there is a spiritual communication of supplication and response, devas, humans, hell dwellers, hungry ghosts, and animals all take refuge.

I personally have no reliable data confirming an afterlife or multiple lives, and little if any basis for speculation on these matters. As such, I have no notion of extinction as a goal for escaping the wheel of karma. Per Occam's Razor, I try to ascertain if what I see and do in this life will fill the bill for what I might call the "yearning to do well."

Concerning teleology and eschatology, then, I am allowed to ask, but not allowed to answer ... to limit reality's splendors with words risks entangling myself further in the vines of delusion.

Even without the carrot and stick of heavens and hells, we notice how it feels to treat others well or badly, within our circumstances and cultural touchstones. For me, Buddha's admonition to ground my actions in wisdom resonates with my understanding that to assist in slowing inevitable entropy, while ultimately futile perhaps, is nevertheless exactly that which is ethical.

This entails attempting a drastic reduction in environmental and social harm (as perceived), as way opens. I have elsewhere compared Buddhism with Permaculture, to try to elucidate ways and means. 

Everything is "emptiness." But it may be that wise actions help empty out the emptiness of greed, anger and ignorance through a disciplined process of subtraction.

Simplify, simplify, simplify. Simply fail, again and again, to reach into the world with greedy hands.

Hence the various stories in which teachers and abbots say "when eating, just eat. When walking, just walk."

 -- shonin 

 

*Actually this story is originally told of an earlier Buddha, Vipassi, who is said to have lived long ago. It's not told of the young Siddhartha Gautama until centuries later, but, as Siddhartha himself is said to have said, Buddhas tend to follow similar timelines.

Sounds pretty good

Grasping, in the Buddhist sense, has two forms: grasping for something, as in consumerism, which is the sort of thing we usually think of when we use the term "greed," but also aversion -- seeking another outcome than the one currently presenting itself to us as likely, unless we intervene in some way. I think of Kurt Lewin's approach/avoidance theory here.

That which we feel will benefit us or those whom we value (provide negentropy, mainly), we approach; that which we feel will harm us (speed up our entropy), we avoid. We also tend to evaluate our coping mechanisms and decide if they are up to the approach or avoidance task; and we may also decide whether approach or avoiding is the right choice in such an instance.

When the author of the Xin Xin Ming advises we have no preferences, this may be simply a shorthand way of recommending Buddha's Middle Way.

Where there are no preferences, there is wu-wei. Less is more, here.

Consider a practice of restraint. What might such a practice entail (without, of course, straying into extreme asceticism)?

Perhaps I might realize I do not need air travel, or, indeed much in the way of travel and tourism at all. Also, I might not need to subject myself to television commercials and all the forms of advertising. Perhaps I do not need sports fandom, fashion, or events at crowded venues. Perhaps I decide I do not need pesticides, herbicides, and complex household chemicals and beauty products. Expensive furniture may be unnecessary, along with shelter with a very large footprint. Perhaps I can get along without a large lawn, a riding lawnmower, gasoline-powered tools, "natural" gas. One winter coat might suffice, rather than, say, five. And I hardly need a motorboat or jet ski.

It can be a useful exercise to go to the big box store with a clipboard (perhaps several times, to avoid raising the eyebrows of employees) and make a list of all the things we do not need. It might be a very long list; or we could simply say with Socrates, “How many things I can do without!” He was famous for his simplicity of lifestyle, as was Diogenes who took up abode in an abandoned jar and is said to have tossed away his cup on realizing he could drink well enough from his hands. 

This accords with what is told of Xu You, an ancient Chinese hermit who drank from his hands and, when offered a drinking gourd, used it once, hung it on a tree, and walked away. That story is referenced in hundreds of works by poets and essayists of simplicity, from Tao Yuanming to Chomei.

Xu You lived long enough ago that it's clear Buddha has no corner on simplicity, yet Buddha's (and many in his wake) take on it has a certain ring to it. Look at the rules in the Vinaya to get a sense of what he regarded as necessary to a fulfilling life ... not many possessions, eh? Three robes and three bowls, or maybe just one, and pillow your head on your arm. Mind you, nights are relatively warm in India, but still. There's some kind of principle here.

As a teenager, I had some sense that freedom consisted in freedom from possessions as well as freedom from being possessed, and was known to "run away" from home (with tacit permission, leaving a note of duration and location) and live for days at a time in the woods with some jerky, a hatchet and some matches. 

I was fascinated by this kind of reductionism, and upon discovering Thoreau, read my copy until it disintegrated, and have never been without one since.

Yet Buddhist advice on simplicity goes far beyond Thoreau. Aside from having only a tiny cabin with fireplace cookery and one table and two chairs (one for the visitor) and a bean patch, Buddhist literature extols the simplicity of sitting very still, eyes half closed, "non thinking." Such practice is, at least while one is doing it, the ultimate in poverty -- it does without the radio and television and cell phone, does without even food and drink and "did I pay the taxes" for the duration of the sit, and can serve as a baseline for kindness, compassion, shared joy, and equanimity, none of which require one to own a single thing. 

Practice leads to practical applications of that which has been practiced, as a rule. What you have not needed during shikantaza, zazenkai or sesshin you may not need ever. There are limits to this, of course. To live, eat food ("not too much, mostly plants," as Michael Pollan says), drink clean water (who needs sugary pop, really?) and breathe clean air if you can get it. The rest as applicable.

We had here in Eugene back in the last century a well-to-do man, Charles Gray, who, after donating his way out of the embarrassment of money, lived for a number of years on what he called the World Equity Budget, which was the average income of humans -- which was low enough that to do this in Eugene confined him to a rented room, cooking on a hot plate, and getting about on a bicycle (with a bike trailer as needed). It was, he said, the happiest time of his life. 

If everyone did it, ... "Gracious, that would be wonderful. It would all be green. There would still be fish in the sea; there would be trees on the mountains." [Source]

I'm not him; he devoted much of a lifetime to the standard he set for himself, whereas I was that poor by choice maybe from age twenty-one to about thirty at most. I'm seventy-six now, living on a fixed income, but by World Equity Budget standards it's certainly easy street. Philanthropy helps, but I feel in my diseased bones that simple is better; maybe it's time for me to try more of less again.

Fish and trees; sounds pretty good.

  --shonin

Just fail

We face a world which is threatened not only with disorganization of many kinds, but also with the destruction of its environment, and we, today, are still unable to think clearly about the relations between an organism and its environment. What sort of a thing is this, which we call ‘organism plus environment?'   -- Gregory Bateson

Since the question was asked in the 1960s, evidence has continued to accrue that organisms are dissipative structures ("me") made up of dissipative structures (organs, tissues, cells, biosyntheses, gut bacteria)  and also constitutive of dissipative structures (families, tribes, cities, nation-states, ecosystems, biospheres). 

All these accumulate matter and energy for reproduction at their constrained scales (negentropy), and all continually drop crumbs down their shirt fronts (entropy).

You can "rewind" a video or movie but you can't rewind life; there are no prior frames except in the form of constructs in your brain, running on the electrical potential between synapses. 

Likewise, you can't fast-forward. There's no "there" to jump to.

Everyone you meet is already, in a sense, dying; you encounter them in the now on an arc of motion: the energy they accumulate, perhaps while having lunch with you, also dissipates; and it's eventually going to dissipate at a greater rate than their capacity to maintain stasis. 

And then there's a corpse, and it too begins immediately to disincorporate.

We have, to a greater or lesser degree, an impulse to live forever; but DNA's brief does not support that. 

It jumps to new substrate, beginning from a single conjoined cell in each instance, and leaves prior generations like so many bugs on a windshield. 

Looking at it this way, we might conclude that DNA, not us as organisms, is what's alive. 

Carl Sagan was inclined to suspect so, though in summarizing the available evidence he left the question open in a way that suggests it can be tested:

 It is not known whether open-system thermodynamic processes in the absence of replication are capable of leading to the sorts of complexity that characterize biological systems.

That said, here we are, replicating, accumulating, dissipating, and, while doing these things, possibly mostly hallucinating. 

The hallucinating appears to be built in, one of DNA's strategies for protecting itself by giving us consciousness, an interplay of hormones and synaptical storage that statistically safeguards our reproduction rate.

If we find all this disheartening, well, it's where we are in the game, so to speak. Religions in general tend to deny all of the above, by doubling down on the hallucinating: play the game this way (insert doctrines and commandments) and thermodynamics will no longer apply to you (insert version of Heaven). 

Or don't, and we'll ply your ghost with clubs and matches (Hell).

Sagan's job was to prepare us to defend scientific method, the ground of the Renaissance and the Enlightenment, against profiteers who, while themselves beneficiaries of the "modern miracles" of flight and laser surgery, nevertheless would, in search of bigger profit margins, upend the ballot boxes in favor of a return to medieval hierarchy -- God, angels, masculine rich men, and the rest of us, who can look forward to bullying maybe the family dog at best -- a hierarchy threatened by the discovery, which science could hardly eventually shirk, that everything is exactly equal in "intrinsic" value and utility to everything else in an interpenetrating and cyclical universe.

And Sagan was among those who had noted that neo-Darwinism, propped up as the justification of sociopathic rich men in their hyper-accumulative and hyper-dissipative activities, was flawed. 

Lynn Margulis, who was married to him at one time, had found evidence of symbiosis as the origin of eukaryotic cells, work that was resisted for decades within the scientific community, much of which had fallen under the spell of the rugged individualism of neo-Darwinists and their boosters among the profit-minded. 

If every living thing is made up of tiny cooperatives, what implications might that have for the model we are now living under, of maximized exploitation within a finite ecosystem?

Even the not-very-rich, embedded in economic structures created by and for the very rich, defend the structures vociferously when nature's networks are shown to be at least as cooperative as competitive. When Suzanne Simard merely found that birch and Douglas firs were sending carbon back and forth, it was enough to end her career with the governmental agency that employed her at the time. 

It is easy at this point for us, contemplating the effects of the activities of the very rich, to become angry at the state of the world and angry with those we have identified as the principal actors. Motivated by such anger, many become active in seeking out and applying strategems for opposing the rich, from boycotts to revolutions.

We can see from the history of applied Marxism in the twentieth century that the cure can be equivalent to or worse than the disease, taking into consideration the usual measures of human misery and environmental degradation. One might cogently observe that these revolutions and their subsequent political evolutions show evidence of a reversion to authoritarianism linked to the protected well-being of the authoritarians and their families and friends, much the same as the conditions that had engendered the revolutions. 

Greed, anger and delusion are not the peculiar province of the rich. They are endemic to all, and come to a boil when we too, impelled by impulses instinctive to us, subsequently become the rich, or at least those ensnared by the leavings of the rich.. 

I have some sympathy for us all. We're born dupes -- The process of replication that we call life has, in all living beings, its own project, and requires of us that we cooperate by being deluded as to our individual aims in life, reaching greedily for resources to further those aims, and angrily defending those resources from others who appear to be reaching for them. We're mightily stressed by all this. Is there a way out of what we may reasonably describe as our plight?

This is where Buddha comes in. Having seen the old, the sick and the dying, he gives up his possessions, his relationships and his United Health Insurance policy and heads for the hills, making his clothing from rags pilfered from a dump in a cemetery. Correctly surmising that the fourth sight -- a self-denying sadhu -- harbors a clue to a cogent reaction to his distress, he nearly starves himself to death, and then realizes one cogent reaction need not be the only cogent reaction. There's no need to stop eating. There's only a need to stop eating greedily. There's no need to snub society. There's only a need not to react to the foibles of others angrily. There's no need to tilt at the windmills of delusion. There's only a need to refrain from behaving in a deluded manner.

"The Way is actually very easy," declares the author of the Xinxin Ming. "Just fail to have any preferences." 

Ha-ha-ha, we reply and skip down to the, mostly, to us, incomprehensible verses that follow, looking for an out.

-- shonin

(To be continued)

One's own deep peace

What's new? fourfold: 

1) reading, writing, watching events unfold, speaking, remembering are full of gaps, like data is dropping out in increments of about 1/10 second. I'm re-typing words in every sentence. 

2) sleeping all the time -- naps throughout the day, often right in the middle of reading or watching whatever 

3) alimentary system seems poorly, with many trips to the potty, not always making it, lots of clothing changes and doing of laundry accordingly. I'm not embarrassed; a body is a body and does not come with guarantees; however I wish I was still good at pants legs and sleeves and not getting into things inside out and backwards repeatedly under duress. 😅

4) I used to feel a flash of anger when interrupted while coding. The sharp intake of breath and pained facial expression I produced were quite alarming to the interruptor, so I generally made an effort to apologize and explain. This has spread into interrupted reading, writing, speaking, or even zoning out. I'm stressing every time I see a hand raised to let me know I need to switch on my hearing device and pay attention. It's exhausting both for me and those who have to communicate with me. I'm realizing that to shift my attention causes actual distress, which I experience as pressure behind the eyes and a short-duration dull ache in the prefrontal lobes.

Not much in the way of sharp pains, though, so there's that. No idea whether all this is CLL related or just normal demented aging.

I sit in the veranda with the Bear folk and watch for bats swooping in the gathering twilight, a good life. 

People do not realize how much they do not need; I have tried to impart this insight with varying success for 50+ years and often felt frustrated over this, but now just sitting out back seems to be its own right thing, a completion. 

Sometimes it's enough just to be responsible for one's own deep peace. 

-- shonin

 

 

You see the true realm of human life in the peaceful breeze and in quiet waves. You realize the original nature of the mind in plain tastes and quiet talk. 

-- Caigentan by Hong Zicheng tr. Robert Aitken with Daniel W. Y. Kwok

 

Samsara/entropy

She spreads a scrap of drape
chalks a white line to follow
wonders at the collision
of Buddha with Euclid

 

Here be fallacies and contradictions; but let us muddle on.

 

For about a year, I have been too out of it to sew, not to mention my eyes are not what they have been. But my health has unexpectedly improved in the last month or so.

 

I needed an envelope for a new rakusu, so I've revisited a neglected practice. The first stitches were horrible, but perseverance uncovers muscle memory. 

I intend the stitches to follow the more or less straight line of chalk. The thread wanders, sometimes above, sometimes below, the line as conceived. 

 

Even if to my eye the stitching were to go straight, a hand lens would disabuse me of that notion. 

 

At first I was aggravated by my lack of skill, but the gap between skill and sufficiency can never be fully closed, and you have to know when to punt. I've become tolerant of deviation.

A Euclidean object exists at most as a pattern (concept) across a substrate of neurons in our brains. 

 

Its expression into physical form is approximate (map vs. territory). For example, there are no true spheres in nature.

 

If you look at the surface of a bubble closely enough (under, say, an electron microscope), you find it is a polygon or polyhedron, or not even that, because the atoms found at the vertices are in flux.

 

There is no there there.

 

Buddha chose "anatta" as the core of his teaching. He was telling the Brahmins their concept of the everlasting soul is only a concept. 

An axle/wheel said to have gone "out of true" was called, in Buddha's culture, dukkha: when the deviation from the concept reaches the point of inconvenience to the task.

 

Skill may create a functional wheel, but not a perfect one. We know and can live with that. The skilled wheelwright creates a wheel that is within tolerance; no more is asked by the wise.

 

Insistence that our experience match our imaginings will give rise to dissatisfaction. 

This is what is meant by samsara. We are "running around in circles," chasing our delusions, which consist in expecting that idealism will bring us this supposed happiness: that there will not be entropy.

 

-- shonin 

Unless you consult particulars you cannot even know or see. 

--William Blake, Annotations to Reynolds.

 

The bee moves on

Somewhere out back
the seven-year-old cherry
takes up its found duty
teaching evanescence

 

I sometimes don't make it out to the hut for two or three days at a time, especially in rain or snow. I've reached the age of more or less permanently camping in the easy chair, medications at hand, scarf wrapping neck, wall-gazing like Bodhidharma but with perhaps less intent, my sitting interlaced with napping, like Daughter's very old dog who lives with us still.

Son or Beloved bring me teas and nibblets. This perks me up, and seems to do them some good as well.

The thought experiments I've been sporadically attending to are: Occam's Razor and entropy.

Occam's idea, not completely original to him but close enough, is that there is no call to multiply entities needlessly. That is, if you fell off the cliff due to your own carelessness, you need not also attribute the fall to interference in your short life by a demon. 

Applying Occam will tend to lead one toward a monistic materialism devoid of teleology, which many physical scientists hold either explicitly or implicitly, for reasons. "Literary criticism is a branch of biology ( --I.A. Richards)."

Core Buddhism as it has come down to us does not have a lot of new ideas: 

1. there is suffering,
2. some suffering is self-inflicted,
3. stop that,
4. here's how.

It stands up well under Occam. 

Buddhism has acquired a lot of cultural accretions, some of which go back to the first generation or soon after. Many -- if not most -- of them may not stand up well under Occam.

Entropy can be thought of in lay terms as "everything runs down." 

To assemble what we may call a state or object, we must find and supply additional energy to the amount originally embodied in it to maintain it as such; otherwise it becomes other stuff. 

A car becomes not a car if it is set up on blocks and its wheels taken away. Leave it there long enough and it becomes an unwieldy and rather forlorn flowerpot.

Combine the razor and entropy when looking at the Four Truths and we get a pretty easily tested life engine that strikes me as having some ontological staying power.

Buddha's charioteer brought him to see the Four Sights, the first three of which were signs of entropy: old age, illness and death. The fourth was asceticism, a somewhat extreme response to the first three, which appealed to the young man and led to his years of practicing some rather severe yogas, as if punishing himself for being subject to entropy. 

After a rather simple meal offered to him, that is, some energy input to maintain his state as a living being, he decided against punishment and proclaimed a Middle Way: live without either seeking too great a buffer against entropy or too little. Entropy just is.

The bee checks out the cherry blossoms for at most a few days. The petals fall. The bee moves on. 

 -- shonin

The best way is not difficult

It only excludes picking and choosing.
-- Xinxin Ming tr. Pajin

Nothing need stop us

Slow moving illness
provides time to review
things done, not done:
release them all

Sitting in the new hut, Manzoku-an, or Hermitary of Quite Enough, she is running out of needs.

Buddha's great discovery was re-discovered millennia later. It's called the Second Law of Thermodynamics. As dharmas (things or beings) 

are not, or do not have ... 

... states ... 

... but are bundles of energy arriving and departing ... 

... they are ephemeral. 

All are equal, all equally evanescent. Resting from concern or anguish over that which is as it is, nothing need stop us from enjoying ourselves, as we might an evening of fireflies.

-- shonin


Whether I sit or I lie,
My spirit roams with the origin of things.
Singing alone or rhyming alone,
My joy runs to the edge of the sky.
-- Songs of National Preceptor Wongam (1226–1292) tr. Whitfield, Park

 

Lily

Dear Sangha, meet my new toy.

In my own case, it's not yet what it may seem: I walk a lot. Even hike, admittedly with two sticks. But I absolutely cannot stand in a queue. I have obtained the device to get in line for vaccinations and such.

I like it; amazing what all I can store under the seat. I'm sure it will come in even more handy later. 😄 What with the Second Law and all.

I think I will call it Lily, as it is my lily pad where I can sit and wait for whatever turns up. In the evening Jupiter, bright, resplendent. In the morning Venus, resplendent, bright.

-- shonin

A frog's way of sitting is much better than our zazen. I always admire their practice. They never get sleepy. Their eyes are always open, and they do things intuitively in an appropriate way. When something to eat comes by, they go like this: gulp! They never miss anything, they are always calm and still. -- Shunryu Suzuki

In the inn that is this world
People come and go in a flash.
The moon shines on the hill bamboo,
Alone I sit and hear the kingfishers.

Spring rain, a pondful of frogs:
Going in and out, like the drum beat,
Chanting and turning a thousand sutras.
What is the use of reading texts?

All my life I have lacked cleverness,
My early learning was sleeping beneath the trees.

-- Poems of Cheongheodang (1520–1604) tr. Whitfield and Park


If you want to comprehend this essence, you should know that the voices of frogs and worms, the sound of wind and raindrops, all speak the wonderful language of the dharma and that birds in flight, swimming fish, floating clouds, and flowing streams all turn the dharma wheel. -- Bassui

 

The luminous moon drifts by so lightly,

The sutra hall lies silent without a sound.

Bits of moonlight pierce the cracks between the bamboo,

Its round refulgence perches in the intersecting pine branches.
The dew dampens the nests filled with noisy swallows,

The wind combs the grasses filled with croaking frogs.

I sit with the master after the ceremony is over

As, face to face, we straighten out our robes.

-- Shiyan, in Daughters of Emptiness tr./ed. Beata Grant

 

furu ike ya / kawazu tobikomu / mizu no oto
an ancient pond / a frog jumps in / the splash of water -- Bassho

At my shady house,
My two legs stretched lazily,
I find endless joy
In hearing the summer frogs,
Singing in a hillside field.

-- Ryokan (tr. Nonoyuki Yuasa)

 

Disentangling vines

 To step away from the treadmill

When Socrates (according to Plato) was asked to define Justice, he began world-building to model a scenario. His first try was to describe a subsistence-based society.

His audience would not have it, demanding a model based on Athens. Socrates noted that such a model represents unsustainability, requiring the acquisition of resources already in use by someone else. that is to say, if your model of comfort is a life extractive beyond the means in your locality, you must dysregulate someone else's homeostasis to achieve it. The first model was just. The second was patently not, yet it is the one studied to this day for ways to achieve justice. Our society's authoritarian narratives tend to be threatened by the point Plato was making, so to avoid being the tall poppies, we're trained to carefully miss the point.

Siddhartha Gautama, a silver-spoon oligarch, being bored one day, ordered up his chariot to go for a spin, but encountered a sick person, an old person, and a dead person. He realized his palatial life ran on delusion, handed over his chariot and fancy duds to his charioteer, and absconded to try out various versions of subsistence-based living.

What had he seen? I'd say, entropy. As Dogen says, "firewood becomes ash. It does not turn into firewood again." ("he's dead, Jim.")

What was the delusion? I posit teleology. Those who seek power over others devise narratives of purpose to support their authority. But teleologies always eventually fail; the closest thing to "purpose" that can be detected in the universe is that it must run itself down; not a popular idea with authoritarians.

Buddha formed a free association of like-minded individuals and opposed the current teleology. His eight-points yoga consisted of clear-seeing, determination, clean and spare speech, refraining from abuse of others, refraining from working in an exploitive system, bringing one's all, staying mindful, concentrating. This yoga supports a low-energy-consuming lifestyle rather than the high-energy-consuming lifestyle buttressed by delusion (teleological narratives promulgated by authoritarians).

Over time Buddha clarified "right action" and "right livelihood" with what he perhaps had hoped would be self-evident rules: not killing, not stealing, not lying, not horndogging, not glue sniffing, not gossiping, etc. And added some "wisdoms" -- generosity, virtue, patience, diligence, concentration and insight.

Many such lists were devised. They overlapped, but that was fine; they were mnemonics for an oral culture. They could be summed up by the word "restraint." His followers were taught to restrain themselves from participating in the illusion of power. A subsistence-based lifestyle is a very direct, in-the-moment lifestyle, restrained from abusing, exploiting, profiteering, colonizing. A rich Buddhist is oxymoronic.

Gandhi had his issues, but his methods had some point. The aim was to throw off the oppressive colonizers. Sarvodaya and Satyagraha included equality, simplicity, nonviolence, truth-telling, not stealing, right livelihood, refraining from covetousness, gluttony, anger, or abusiveness. This aspect of the movement was the practice of being the opposite of a colonizer in every possible way. Resistance was grounded in the simple living that does not go shopping.

Not remembered now by many, Charles Gray, a sometime Quaker from the US Pacific Northwest, once a millionaire, gave away his money and possessions and built from scraps, with his partner, a tiny house that could be disassembled and relocated. Fearlessly shaving any costs they could think of from their lives, they aimed to live at or below the world average income and largely succeeded, despite being in the US.

I think the common thread between Socrates, Buddha, Gandhi and Gray, and many others such as Peace Pilgrim or Dorothy Day, is

1. Noticing the Second Law of Thermodynamics,
2. Noticing the link between entropy and suffering,
3. Noticing that those determined to have more than their share of energy occasion great suffering,
4. Not really wanting to be a part of that.

Religions in general are, to my mind, futile efforts to escape the Second Law: Heaven, the Pure Land, Taoist immortality. I think these are bogus; that law is immutable. I also think this notion of restraint looks kind of weak on the face of it. If all the universe, and every species in it, must perforce destroy heaps of energy wherever found, what's the virtue in trying not to do what must and will be done, let alone escape the consequences?

I do feel inclined to stay out of the rain, dress warm, eat enough, drink clean water and breathe clean air, and I want these things for those around me, as is natural. The two ways of going about this are

1. to destroy just enough heaps of energy to provide for me and mine as needed, within available cyclicity of solar energy replenishment.
2. to keep destroying more and more heaps of energy to provide a seemingly infinite cushion against the unforeseen, drawing down energy that has been banked in fossil fuels.

That's reductionist, of course; it leaves out discussion of, for example, nuclear power and its advantages (and significant real and potential drawbacks, such as political or state instability: see under Zaporizhia Power Plant).

But to the point: 1. enough, or 2. too much?

Why even consider too much? Well, we've had droughts and famines and such. Many families and tribes, even cities and nations, have been wiped out over time, and there's an impulse to avoid genetic dead ends, exigencies that endanger one's DNA's project. We like the endorphins, so we reproduce. The compulsion to do so, on average, is very strong.

We see this at maximum in today's futurist techbros. Noting risks that have burgeoned in our time, they seek a hail Mary that will throw their DNA forward with certainty, and willingly will sacrifice your DNA and that of their MAGA supporters to try to achieve it. I feel theirs is a fool's errand, though I'm not good at the math that would confirm this. Maybe Tom Murphy's textbook will convince.

You know when your checking account is about to be overdrawn that it is time to not write another check until after the next deposit. All of us having an overdrawn solar energy account together is the problem of our time, to which other aspects of the issue, such as hoarding of (the overdrawn) wealth by the rich, or pollution, or heat, or drought, or flooding, or crop failure, are but aspects.

Colonizers, religionists, dictators, enclosers of the commons, charlatans, grifters, marketers and rent-seekers repel most of us with their self-aggrandizing schemes. With Socrates, we feel that running a white-hot Athens with its marketplace of baubles is going to get our kids fed to some kind of Moloch made up of Tesla fenders, and we resent this. Yet we'll go on buying endless streams of plastic, saying "living well is the best revenge."

There has to be a better way.

I think there is.

Look closely at "time." There's nothing to what we call the past but memories and records in the present. Likewise, there's nothing to what we call the future but speculation, based on implicit or explicit statistical inferences from memory and records.

Zen folks say that a lot, then say there is only the present moment, but that falls a little short.

Take a tray, put about sixteen marbles on it, maybe with a little sand to hold the marbles still, and arrange them equidistantly as you are able.

Now give the tray a little shake.

The ordering of the marbles becomes a bit randomized.

We measure "time" by measuring movement. The marbles moved, but they did not "time," they "moved." As a side note for now, you can shake marbles into disorder but into order, not so much.

I posit "time" is "entropy."

You can manage chowing down on a small energy heap with less effort than on a large energy heap. This may entail accepting run-of-the-mill environmental risk, but the payoff is "life now" -- as opposed to "maybe rich later" and also "whoops, a few getting rich killed us all off" -- the disasters historically faced by villages are smaller in scale than the disasters brought on by multinational corporations. Restraint in production and consumption can stave off those preventable disasters.

Socrates, Buddha, Gandhi, Charles Gray and Robin Kimmerer (adding her in here for reasons, go read her book) are onto something: "Show a little restraint."

Good and evil are labels. What is, is. And from our point of view there's less of it all the "time," that is to say, the Sun will run down and long before it goes, we'll be gone. We can therefore decide nothing has intrinsic meaning (which it doesn't) and be cruel to one another by enclosing and hoarding the commons, or just not. The discovery that there is no intrinsic meaning to our surroundings doesn't mean we can't enjoy planting a potato.

At this point in my scrambled and repetitive thoughts about these things, I tend to want to wax prescriptive, and this tendency is being enhanced, if you will, by oncoming dementia. So, some speculation:

Most outcomes are short-term. Once you have been treated unjustly, the injustice may rankle with any descendants you may have, but when you die, you personally will feel no injustice.

Likewise, if you have treated someone with respect and generosity regardless of "rank," the effects of that too will dissipate and be forgotten, and you will die soon enough and so will the other person, both soon forgotten.

We try to fend off this natural process by investing in imagined futures. "Sin," whereby an unjust action is remembered by an invisible entity and held against you in the afterlife, and "merit," whereby a just action is counted by an invisible entity, giving you a ticket to a paradise, are simply concepts that we have.

That's fine. I never liked being corralled into my life choices by either the impossible stick or the impossible carrot, and I bet I'm not alone in this.

What we do have is this one life right here.

It's at this point in my musings that I remember Occam's Razor. The bishop noted that we tend to spin our intellectual wheels when we offer more causes for an observed reality than are necessary for that reality to exist.

It's a powerful tool for thought as it has been applied, to call out delusions. I'd like to try to stretch it a bit: we tend to spend our lives fruitlessly when we seek to pad our resources beyond what the general energy budget from the Sun will support. To look to fossil fuels, or the resources in lands inhabited by others, or the resources on which other families in our communities depend, for the maintenance of our own or our families' (or tribes') comfort, is like Occam's "multiplying entities needlessly."

If you shake a tray with six equidistant marbles on it, it's easier to put the marbles back in order than if you shake a tray with sixteen, or sixty, or sixteen hundred, marbles on it.

Buddha reacted to the discovery of suffering by reducing complexity. He also taught the reduction of complexity. That he taught it is suggestive. He considered all beings his family.

Gandhi reacted to colonialism by recommending reduction of complexity. By living simply, truthfully, and cleanly, with practically no shopping, satyagrahis could concentrate on resistance. The colonizers had fewer handles of manufactured needs by which to get a grip on them.

Charles Gray was able to pay rent on a room or a spot for his hut without rejoining the rat race, because his other costs were relatively low -- foraging, a meatless diet, sweater instead of a heater, healthy exercise (without paying a gym), conversation in the place of costly entertainments. Restraint is energy descent, if you will.

Although I fall into the "this is good, that is evil" mindtrap as much as anybody, I have set myself the task of looking for ways to reduce complexity and then examining the apparently entrained circumstances. How do I feel? Am I ... happier?

Who even knows what the hell that is? But it seems like I am. I let a thing go, give it away, reduce, repurpose, recycle, make, mend, forage, sit watching clouds and rainbows, visit a crow, garden, make weed tea for the things gardened.

To reduce gratuitous complexity, to "draw down," feels to me as something like decolonization. It doesn't take away the crunching sound of the Turtle Island bones I'm walking on, but it may lead away from unconscionably adding yet more bones to the pile. 

The very fact that in 2020 those in charge of complexity were willing to destroy the institutions of public health, and the lives of millions, to keep us shopping, suggests there's a lot at stake here.

Not to prescribe for y'all, but me, I'm kinda ready to step away from their treadmill as able. I regard subsistence as the sustainable lifestyle, therefore the most ethical.

 

-- shonin 

In Place 54

 

After snow, deluge. 

The hut travels a bit 

toward the creek, expounding

the first noble truth

Awakening to find trees and fences down, the old woman instinctively checks her pulse, as if to discover how many beats remain. When we are told we are one with the universe, we nod in agreement, but also tend to grab something and hold on.

 

Of all the waters in the world
The Ocean is greatest.
All the rivers pour into it
Day and night;
It is never filled.

--Chuang-Tzu, tr. Thomas Merton

In Place 7

Snips rusty fence wire
to set a gate; a tiny parkland in
deep brush -- this dry wash
silent in summer; in winter roaring

The gate provides an entryway from the poultry pasture, allowing access to the hut should anything happen to the main bridge, which crosses the creek elsewhere, nearer the homestead. Three bridges have been washed away by floods in times past. It is a very dynamic landscape.

Though the river's current never fails, the water passing, moment by moment, is never the same. Where the current pools, bubbles form on the surface, bursting and disappearing as others rise to replace them, none lasting long. In this world, people and their dwelling places are like that, always changing. 

-- Chomei, Hojoki

 

Use and value renewable resources and services

"Use and value renewable resources and services"

My first thought when contemplating this principle was the adage: "reduce, renew, reuse, repurpose, recycle." And you do see some of that here: at 2. the harvest/forage bag has been made from a conference tote bag by snipping the handles at one end and sewing them to each other to make a shoulder strap, while at 3. the compost bins are made from pallets and the mailbox is repurposed as a rain-proof hand tool bin.

But it also means to let the earth gift you with things you may use and then return to the earth.

1. Perennials give and grow back, just as trees offer fruit and nuts and then offer them again.

2. Annuals provide fruit and veg but also seed, so that they may come again.

3. "Wastes" become compost gold. Water goes onto the soil, then out to the sea, becomes clouds, returns as rain and snow.

4. Our straw comes from local wheat farmers, and the following year comes from local wheat farmers again. The trellises are made from shoots from hazel, maple, ash, knotweed, and even Oregon grape, all growing on the premises, and renewing from the land cyclically. "Services," indeed. As these become soil and become food for us and the other creatures here, we make some small return via the composting potty and the kitchen "waste" bucket.

There's really no such thing as waste -- the continental plates will subduct all. What there is is spoilage -- hastened entropy, making the things you have used into things that are (in the nearer term than geologic processes) harmful or unusable for others. 

On a grand scale, the Pacific Garbage Patch would be an example of such spoilage, or the Love Canal, or whatever has been touched by the Tar Sands or nuclear industries. Closer to home, lead paint, indiscriminate herbicide usage, or motoring to the store with a V-8 engine to buy cigarettes, say. 

Watch what happens to the stream of gifts from the Earth you sample. Where do the beanpoles go? The apple cores? The old fence boards? 

Respect the cycle.

Simplicity and non-violence are obviously closely related. The optimal pattern of consumption, producing a high degree of human satisfaction by means of a relatively low rate of consumption, allows people to live without great pressure and strain and to fulfill the primary injunction of Buddhist teaching: “Cease to do evil; try to do good.” As physical resources are everywhere limited, people satisfying their needs by means of a modest use of resources are obviously less likely to be at each other’s throats than people depending upon a high rate of use. Equally, people who live in highly self-sufficient local communities are less likely to get involved in large-scale violence than people whose existence depends on world-wide systems of trade.

  -- E. F. Schumacher, "Buddhist Economics" in Small is Beautiful

(To be continued)

Obtain a yield

1. Tomatoes, squash, eggplant, apple butter. People may not care for most of your home canning, but they will eat your apple butter.

2. Duck eggs and chicken eggs resting on a foraged bench. 

3. Greens being harvested for fresh consumption, for poultry, and for dehydration for later use by both humans and poultry. 

4. A persistent weed, Japanese knotweed, being collected for food, fodder, mulch, compost, trellising poles, bee hotels, and kindling.

These are subsistence yields. Stony Run Farm is really just a suburban-style lot in a country setting, but we do ask it to convert sunshine and compost for us into veggies. We try to stay within our fertility budget -- if we were to sell crops, we'd have to buy something to fertilize with. Commerce has the long term disadvantage that it leaks energy at every station of rach product -- speeding up entropy for all. We're idealists, but we've made an effort to participate as little as we reasonably might, and we feel good about our choice.

It’s the same as the people that teach poetry and the people that teach all of the arts in Japan, where it’s based on this idea that you come to the place where there’s no qualities and no thought and you’re one with everything, and if you’re studying pottery, of course it makes you a better person, it’s a good thing… with natural farming you become a better more joyful person, but you’re also providing for your own livelihood, you’re growing what you need to eat and you’re in partnership with other forms of life.

 -- Larry Korn

(To be continued)

Buddhism and Permaculture: A pair of ethics toolboxes

The following can be regarded as a compatible pair of ethics toolboxes for designing a life. 

The first is derived from Buddhism. I find its core survives Occam's razor. Its basics are: four truths, which descended from Siddhartha Gautama's contemplation of the Four Sights. And: eight ways for those truths to be manifested in your life. I tend to take this to mean the young man saw a sick person, an old person and a dying person (entropy) and prescribed, within the ontological bounds available to him, negentropic activity as its antidote.

Your author in skinnier days.

Truth one: it's rough out there (second law of thermodynamics). 

Truth two: it's even rougher because we (whether ourselves or others) want things to be different than they are (as if there were no such law).

Truth three: We can change our own behavior, so that things are less rough for us, at least internally (and perhaps slow some of the entropy for ourselves and others through wisdom).

Truth four is a simple method for cultivating these behavioral changes. Here is the method with its eight parts -- they are interrelated; are really aspects of one thing, but broken down for utility.

1. Right view. See what's happening.

2. Right aspiration. Care about the things that matter, not the things that don't. Notice the things that matter are not things (esp. as in "owning" "possessions").

3. Right speech. When communicating with others, delete whatever would hinder them from discovering the truths and using this method. For example, hurtful snark.

4. Right action. Do not do unto others what you would not want done to you. Heard that before?

5. Right livelihood. Do not do for a living that which would hinder others from discovering the truths and using this method. Example: fracking engineer. Example: bankster. The best occupations are probably smallholder and the crafts that support smallholders, along with infrastructure workers and the health professions, preferably preventive care. I would include teaching, but prefer it in the form of apprenticeships over large school and university systems.

6. Right effort. Conducting the parts of the method with due diligence.

7. Right mindfulness. Clarity of thought concerning the truths, the method and their goal of non-harm.

8. Right concentration. To achieve clarity of thought, discipline the mind. Simply refusing to load it up with extraneous chatter (from television or Facebook, for example) is a start. I attend virtual Soto Zen Buddhist events. Your mileage may vary.

The second toolbox is the Permaculture Design principles, as formulated by David Holmgren in Permaculture: Principles and Pathways Beyond Sustainability (2002). I find them to be, ultimately, the same box differently adumbrated.

The core ethics are generally expressed as "earth care, people care, and fair share." This could be regarded as "help others slow their entropy." So I find both Buddhism and Permaculture, as ethical systems promoting simple living and reciprocity, to be attempts to build a nonfictional applied philosophy of negentropism.

The ethics are applied in, usually, twelve kinds of activities usually called principles.

1. Observe and Interact. By taking the time to engage with nature we can design relevant solutions.

2. Catch and Store Energy. Developing systems to collect resources when abundant, we can use them in need.

3. Obtain a yield – Ensure that you are getting useful rewards from your work.

4. Apply Self Regulation and Accept Feedback – Efficient or resilient systems require noting and correcting inefficient or nonresilient practices.

5. Use and Value Renewable Resources and Services – as opposed to non-renewable resources.

6. Produce No Waste – “Waste not, want not.”

7. Design From Patterns to Details – Observe patterns in nature and society. Test their appropriateness broadly, rather than losing yourself in detail.

8. Integrate Rather Than Segregate – By putting the right things in the right place, relationships develop, creating efficiencies and resiliences.

9. Use Small and Slow Solutions – Small is beautiful.

10. Use and Value Diversity – “Don’t put all your eggs in one basket” -- be resilient.

11. Use Edges and Value the Marginal – These are often the most valuable, diverse and productive elements in the system.

12. Creatively Use and Respond to Change – We can have a positive impact on inevitable change by carefully observing and then intervening at the right time.

The principles are applied in seven "domains" that have been elucidated. These: The Natural Realm, Building(s), Tools (Technology), Education/Culture, Health (Well-Being), Economics ("as if people mattered"), Governance (participatory democracy preferred).

I'm aware that some leaders in Buddhism and Permaculture have historically and have continued to fall short of the ethics enumerated here, particularly in the treatment of women, and of the colonized by colonizers, by men in positions of authority. So what's new?  I'm going to practice as long as I see the utility of practice; that will at least be one less potential predator in the world, to the extent of my ability. Both Buddhists and Permaculturists practice as exemplars.

You are here for only a moment, less than a moment in the universe's time. Why not simply clear the mind, open the "heart," open the hands, be for and with and not against?

Natural farming, the true and original form of agriculture, is the methodless method of nature, the unmoving way of Bodhidharma. Although appearing fragile and vulnerable, it is potent for it brings victory unfought; it is a Buddhist way of farming that is boundless and yielding, and leaves the soil, the plants, and the insects to themselves. -- Masanobu Fukuoka

(To be continued)

The Middle Way

Entropy. Cartilage has vanished from between
long leg bones, and I have become
dependent; may I have some help please
with these pants, these socks, this clacking

knee brace, this burgeoning heaped skunkish
laundry full of everything that leapt from
the spoon onto my clothing, this tea welling up
somehow from my cup's brim to spread across

the tidal flat of my shaking hand and fill
the sea cave of my sleeve? Huh, and if
last night's frost has subsided enough,
perhaps even with such a day's beginning

I can hope to step into these two unmatched
clogs and shamble on, past undone chores,
gathering up my left-hand stick and my right-
hand stick, and walk the dog. There is no dog;

what he left behind lies there: that small
basaltic stupa, littered with seasonal
offerings -- lately, deadnettles that wilt
in such hurry. But I call to him anyway;

he loved these walks so, that I feel obliged,
knee brace and all, to retrace our kinhin route
each weekday Armageddon fails to materialize.
Oaks throw shade; in summer I seek them,

in winter avoid. This is a ritual. As when I sit,
as when I chant, I know, even when tongue tied,
or falling asleep, or feeling my knee brace loosen and drop
just as I stagger into the ditch to avoid a truck,

that ritual is a kind of living being, made up of
my life and also the lives of all who participate
in some way, such as: "are you going to 'walk
the dog?'" Yes. "Have you got some water and

your phone?" Yes. "Okay; if you're not back
in an hour, I'll come looking for you." I bobbled
the Heart Sutra this morning, as I always do,
but this little exchange of hearts is itself

the Middle Way. Along the road, taking tiny
steps, tinier every year, I stop
to watch a robin angling for its worm.
The little dog that isn't there

wags his universe of tail.

 -- shonin

some things will

In a garden's grave, life remains: beets 
Never pulled may be pulled now, to boil

And put back, for the flock to discover;

Greens have carried on and are taken
And dehydrated, or left for the goose to strip; 
Red highlights show missed tomatoes;
Dense thickets of dead vines give beans. 
Even the weeds, that had defeated her,
Now yield rich heads of seed for hens.
She walks about, coat-wrapped, scanning

Ground for spuds rolled out by hen feet. 
Rarely, rewardingly, a ripe winter's squash 
Awaits discovery. Gone to seed last year, 
Viable chard and kale erupt now
Even as it were March, and are welcomed.

Little remains of her apple crop,
If the early varieties are to be believed, 
Filling the cellar as they have, and
Even the kitchen cabinet, with sealed jars.

Rummaging round the orchard, she spies, 
Excusing themselves for tardiness, a 
Mighty wall of Granny Smiths. She might 
Avail herself of them, but her arms ache. 
In winter one wants rest. She turns
Now houseward. Her hands hope 
Some things will wait for Spring.

what rain is for

The last three summers, as she recalls them, 
Her heavy-clay bit of earth opened hexagonally; 
Into the depths she stared, seeing dry darkness 
So desiccated, she fancied worms and millipedes

In despair had decamped, seeking other worlds.
She poked at crevasses with her stick, finding bottom

Well deeper than twelve inches. Not knowing 
How to garden in any but a rain forest, she 
Attacked books and websites for some scheme 
The budget could be stretched for: shade cloths,

Raised beds, huge-log hugelkulturs, keyhole beds. 
All were possible, but her hands, old, worked
In fits and starts; her money allocated elsewhere. 
Now she startles, looking at her night sky, so steeped

In stars all summer, finding it black and close. 
Some drops, like bad boys' spitballs, carom off her

Face. More, and now she's happily drenched in her 
Old nightgown, dancing slow circles. Autumn proves 
Real at last. This dance is what rain is for.

see it through

One should not have an orchard and 
Not care for it; so she tries,
Even lurches from the depths of a chair

She's found at some thrift, pre-softened; from 
Her house, warm or cool as she might wish, 
Out into too much sun or too much rain; from 
Under the kind roof of a porch she'd built, 
Leaving tool after tool there to gather
Dust and webs, marks of a new will to

Neglect. Beyond the weed-bent fence, an 
Orchard of sorts awaits her care, each 
Task having skipped two years at least.

Hands grasp lopper and saw. She visits 
Apple, quince, pear, plum, cherry, clipping 
Vines, tall weeds, watersprouts, suckers; 
Even designates branches for her stove.

As the forenoon warms, she strips off 
Now her hat, next jacket, shirt and gloves,

Old skin offered to thorns, thistles,
Rough bark. Really she'd meant to hire it done, 
Children of neighbors being short on cash. 
Habit, she could call it. Habit, and the way 
Apples come best that see right sun,
Ripe enough to pay her for some pains.
Do a thing yourself to see it through.

election

She drags her rusty kneeler as way opens 
amid plants knee high, wetting her blue 
trousers in dew, as clouds decide

to open or not, as the morning star 
recedes and hides itself, with a sliver 
of new moon, in day. Poppies

have not yet awakened, nor daisies.
She kneels and kneels again, eyeing 
potato vines, chard, kale, spinach, beets

to see are they hiding pretenders beneath 
their skirts: thistle, geranium, nipplewort, 
even nascent blackberries, ash trees, an oak.

Most of all, she seeks out bindweed, a long 
vine snaking from place to place, climbing, 
smothering fruitful things. She knows

she's prejudiced, but her rationale is: 
bindweed's not for eating; raspberries are. 
Her hands elect who dies, who lives today.

too soon

 

These are not the tomatoes she wanted, 
Heirlooms such as Cherokee Purple, or 
Even Brandywines. But the clerk only
Sells what's brought in, finds labels, wands 
Each three-inch pot through as she would

A bag of chips or box of three penny nails. 
Really, the old woman muses, I should have 
Ended my day at the seedsman, but it's not

Near here -- what, twenty miles? So I've 
Opted for the discount store again, to buy 
These things that hurt my soul: hybrids.

There's this about them, they do produce 
Heavy fruits that please her folks and friends 
Easily enough, and in larger numbers. But

To her there's something in them lacking. 
Old varieties taste of the eyes of young 
Men, of weeping, of laughter, of
A child's anger at being teased, of
The confusion of having one's braid pulled. 
On the hybrids she can't say as much.
End to youth, beginning of sameness; a 
Safety that came to her too soon.