Category: 2 SOPHIA/ PHILOSOPHY / PSYCHOLOGY

“The key to everything is the attention to the intention.”

Never mind the know-how or the know-what. Know-why is the shit.

The WHY is the cause and all that matters.

The effect is weak, as Epictetus would say. No control over it. Still, that is what we try to control: “I want this action to result in… this and that.” While totally forgetting and neglecting the cause. Upside down world.

To turn from effect to cause, truly a revolution.

As I wrote in another text, I think genius is a DIY or FIY (find it yourself), thing. Reading or being told by someone else that so and so is a genius is a second-hand thing.

Find and discover your own geniuses. And saints. You might have a couple around you, but if you rely totally on the Church to tell you who is a saint, you might be missing out. It is good exercise to learn to discover genius and sainthood.

It’s easy for me to talk, however, because I know a saint. He is still alive and as far as I know nobody has called him saint, so the discovery is mine. If that matters, which it doesn’t.

But it is a good feeling to actually know a saint. You can put to him your trickiest questions and can always count on a refreshing, painfully honest response.

But let’s leave the living saint and talk about a dead one. Or one who is now, partly though me, living her “true life”. (What I mean by that is explained HERE.)

Background: I read a lot as a teenager, and for many years. One of the books I picked up that made a great impression on be was “Gravity and Grace” by Simone Weil.

I have regarded it in very different ways through the years. When I first found it I was in the middle of a rather starry-eyed period. What Weil said about understanding without being understood, etc, touched a string in me, but I would say that the resonance had a lot with religious sentimentality on my part.

Later I regarded my teenage reading of Weil as something almost dangerous, as thoughts that went the wrong way and almost made me choke.

But the book has almost been on my mind. When I in 1998 tried to get a record contract with some “pop” songs, one of the lyrics went “I am an honorary member of the human race/ Torn between gravity and grace”.

Simone Weil died at the age of 34. As I understand it, Gustave Thibon, to whom Weil gave her papers and notebooks and who edited the book Gravity and Grace (Weil did not “write” it, as a book) played a crucial role in making her thoughts and ideas known. (I am thinking of Edmond Rostand, without whom and without whose play we would not know about, and love, the long-nosed cavalier and thinker Cyrano de Bergerac.)

Let’ s say that the book and I had an early meeting, separated, and, at least from my side (I have no idea what the book thought about me) regarded each other with suspicion.

But we have met again. Yesterday I printed a PDF copy of the book, the exact one that I read in my teens.

And now it seems we are ready for each other (meaning that I am ready for it). Much water has flowed in the Danube, years have gone by, new experiences have gladdened, saddened and softened me and I feel that I can understand Weil if not totally then at least better. I know what she speaks about.

And it seems to me that she also was a kind of saint.

Of course what she speaks about is religion, or rather, God and the absolute, versus the World and evil. Those question have taken on a gravity (sic) for me that, these days, is not academic but burning — on the skin of my soul.

I am no friend of forewords and introductions by meddling middlemen, but the introduction by Thibaud is in itself inspiring, which indicates (it takes one to know one) that he himself was close to the level of Weil.

Of course I would like to quote from the book but the rediscovery, and the digestion of it, is too recent. I have also not come farther than 20-30 pages into it. But that is enough to see that this time around we have a real meeting.

Let me end here with Thibaud, not Weil.

In order to kill the self we must be ready to endure all the wounds of life, exposing ourselves naked and defenseless to its fangs, we must accept emptiness, an unequal balance, we must never seek compensations and, above all, we must suspend the work of our imagination, ‘which perpetually tends to stop up the cracks through which grace flows.’ Every sin is an attempt to fly from emptiness. We must also renounce the past and future, for the self is nothing but a coagulation of past and future around a present which is always falling away. Memory and hope destroy the wholesome effect of affliction by providing an unlimited field where we can be lifted up in imagination (‘I used to be’, ‘I shall be’ . . .), but faithfulness to the passing moment reduces man truly to nothing and thus opens to him the gates of eternity.

PS: Actually there’s a bit more. Just as in my text about genius I advise the reader not to exclude himself from sainthood. Here it is not so much a question of “finding a genius in your own home, your own jungle, your own skin“, but of creating one.

Saints, I believe, are made, not born.

Oh how wonderful the word “perfect” sounds, and how many problems and difficulties it creates.

Yes, obviously when we eat a meal or hear a piece of music or see a painting where everything is just right, we exclaim IT IS PERFECT. And all is well with the world.

That´s not what I am talking about. Finding and discovering perfection can be wonderful. No, I mean striving for perfection. Wishing for, longing for, waiting for perfection.

Especially when it comes to artistic creation this can be a paralyzing, debilitating impulse. Also when it comes to interpersonal contacts and also more practical ventures.

The fear of doing wrong is an important part of this. Especially when it concerns a new field or person or project, you don´t know what is right and wrong. You discover it along the way.

I guess you will learn less if you try to do right than if you try do wrong (or just don´t care).

If you do wrong and things go wrong, you have learned your lesson. If you do wrong and it turns out that you did right, you also learned your lesson. But if you are lukewarm in between, then the results will be inconclusive. Did you do it right or wrong, or what?

Confusion, all stemming from this perfection-striving.

In cybernetic theory the guided missile or torpedo “reacts to “criticism” just enough to correct course and keeps going forward toward the target. This course will be … a series of zig-zags.”

I believe a correction of course, however strange it might seem, could not well be wrong.

Silence is golden, we often say. Versus silver, which is talking. In that case listening, which is more than silence, is perhaps platinum?

I have always been fascinated with the listening process, the Yin side if you will. But I realize more and more how hard it can be to really receive, really be attentive to what goes on, to what is said.

Listening to music is relatively easy (even if quite hard for many who have the habit of mixing up music with thoughts).

Listening to each other is harder. Sure, if I ask you what time it is there will be no problems for me to hear the answer. But if emotional factors enter, personality traits that want to control, direct and decide things, listening becomes much more difficult (in effect, much less interesting).

I begin to see that another factor should be added to my list: wanting to help.

The impulse and intention to help can also make us, at least me, half-deaf. A strange insight, this. When I scratch its surface I see that “helping” can be a way to build pride, even arrogance.

“I am such a helpful person, so full of good-will, common sense and wisdom. Oh, how lucky those that are in need when I´m around. Form a queue, folks! It will soon be your turn to receive the blessings of the philanthropist (me).”

So, silver talk is easy, golden silence is harder, but the hardest is platinum listening, which I suspect is the base for being able to REALLY help. Helping others, and yourself, by doing and not-doing (just allowing).

This might be the Yin way to membership in the Platinum Club.

The 1960s was the decade of flower power.

Of course the power of flowers is still intact, even though it is not à la mode currently.

But there are other powers. One of them seems to be the smile.

Here I admit that I have been let us say “unfavorably disposed” towards the smile. (As towards many other pleasant and positive things, silly me.) Especially the “smiley” was a target of mine. I was of the opinion that the smiley was a thing of low, almost barbarous stupidity, demonstrating how poor and primitive online communication often is.

There is a grain of truth in this; the smiley cannot compete with a lovely, or even ordinary smile. But it does convey an energy. Some of us are more susceptible to the energy of a smiley, others (like me) less so. But it does have a positive (+) charge.

Yes, there are smiles and smiles. There are the ones only involving the mouth and then the real thing, the Duchenne smile.

And I guess this one is real too, in its own devilish way.

But we have devils enough. Let us turn towards the inner smile of Eastern philosophy. I see it as a tool to help us reach positive emotional states quicker and easier, and as next step letting those positive emotions influence more material things like hormones, etc.

Also, the practice of smiling to my knee or heart or foot can be updated to smiling towards other, more remote, “body organs”. Like my neighbor, my cousin, or YOU. Here the smile is inner produced, inner decided and inner directed.

Very probably the inner smile is most efficacious and needed when we have absolutely no urge to smile — swimming against the stream…

Then we have another kind of smile, where things from the outside (pictures, videos, sentences, etc.) make us smile, thus creating Smile Power.

(Talking of power, I´ve always felt that out of two people — one smiling, the other frowning — the smiling one has so much more power. It feels impossible to imagine the smiling person envying the frowning one. But that´s my old personal (frowning) perspective. Those who can´t help smiling might see it differently. But I think I am right and they are wrong .-)

In this case too I have been the sour, sarcastic type, heaping criticism on all the cute animals that are so popular on Facebook and such forums. Well, not on the animals themselves, but on the phenomenon of posting such pictures and getting all exited about them.

And now I will do exactly the same. Or something even worse!

I hope this brought a smile to your face.

What could be worse than this?!? my old frowning colleagues ask. Answer: Pictures of animals that are not only cute but are THEMSELVES SMILING. Twice as bad. Or good .-)

If you want to revel in even more smiling animals, visit the page from which I borrowed the pictures.

Enough of animals. Humans can smile too, at least some of us can. I´ve been wondering why women are so much better at it. Of course there is the trained, rehearsed On-Off smile that is no more than decorative, but many women have fantastic smiles.

That is not the forte of us men. But I have at least two examples here of male smiles (very discreet, close to being inner smiles) that I find very attractive.

Yes, John Travolta sure has smile power. As also has…

the fantastic Gene Kelly.

One might think that gurus and holy men might have great smiles. Maybe. Here are some favorites.

Note the androgynous qualities. These are not “men” but something above that. Talking of which I will end this with a non-smiling but still fantastic picture of Meher Baba. (Or rather, his smile is so inner (innerlig) that you have to be an “innsider” to really see it .-)

How unhappy we are at times when we compare ourselves and our lives with others. “Miserere, how I wish I had your life, money, car, wife, etc. ”

Sometimes this can be something positive, if it forces us to get our act together and actually work (not just yearn) for that which we want. A kick in the butt. As when Rubinstein heard Horowitz play and realized he needed to practise more .-)

But what is a comparison? Putting two things beside each other, looking at them and measuring the differences. You can compare two apples in front of you but not one apple here and another in a different continent. You cannot compare an apple and an Apple computer. That´s unscientific.

But it gets worse. When we compare our lives with other people´s lives we can get into really muddy zones. A classic, modern example is the Facebook comparison.

Let´s look more closely at the FB-apples.

One apple is my life. I know quite a bit about it, if I open my eyes really wide I can know quite a lot about it.

The other apple is your life. I see it, if seeing it can be called, through the FB-lens. Which is also a filter, and a crop tool, plus all the other Photoshop tools.

With a photo I need some kind of original, but frankly there is no need for that on Facebook. Everything can be made up. Name, profile picture, history, occupation, every status message can be downright fake. So how the hell can I compare my apple with yours?

That is an extreme case and we don´t need to go that far.

But even so, that other apple — your life, or what I see, or think/imagine, as your life — is probably cropped, censured, sanitized and beautified. You show what you want to show, other parts are concealed or never mentioned. Some things you enlarge and exaggerate, others you reduce or depreciate.

And yes, some parts you or I might even make up. That picture of your stylish dinner might be your third cousin´s dinner, and my login at Sheraton Dubai, well, let´s not look too closely into that.

But the pictures sure look nice, and it could have all been true (in an other, better world)…. Yes! Why not better this dull, imperfect world sometimes? And what better tool for that than Facebook?

Back to our science and apples. But also to some comfort and consolation (things science seldom gives us).

If you find yourselves being depressed when you compare your life with the life of somebody else, ask yourself if this is a comparison or a phantasy.

Sorry, I don´t want to involve YOU in all this grit. If I find myself being depressed when I compare myself with someone else, I can ask myself if this is a comparison, or just a fantasy.

Are the two apples both visible to me, in front of me? When did I last meet or talk with this other “apple”, more than over a short lunch? What and how much do I actually know, and what do I believe, assume and surmise?

We dance round in a ring and suppose,
But the Secret sits in the middle and knows.
(Robert Frost)

If the answer to those questions is “what I KNOW is very little” then I am not comparing, but only indulging in a fantasy.

Why we, you and I, do that is another question. The enjoyment of complaining and self-pity sometimes seems to be a universal or at least global force. Masochism takes many interesting and “intellectual” forms. And so on.

Knowing why might not help much. Seeing the what — that I don´t compare but just indulge a fantasy — can hopefully disperse the clouds of confusion, at least a bit.

Coda: When I see that I don´t compare but making things up, I might get a glimpse of the real values of my life, as it is here and know. And doing that I might totally forget to “compare” (fantasize) and actually live in the present.

And seeing that there is no real ground for comparison, even the desire to compare might go up in smoke and evaporate.

Here is a very clear thought I just read: Mind likes to vibrate. These vibrations (thoughts) may be good or bad, may be seen as positive or negative, but vibrate they will, or want to.

“Good vibrations” with the Beach Boys, with its strangely beautiful Theremin vibrations (Sol Sol Fa Mi Fa) is a great piece, but these are not the vibrations I am thinking of. Life itself is probably just vibrations, on different levels.

No, there is something you could rather call shaking. Most of us are, in James Bond lingo, shaken and stirred. Our thoughts and ideas and fancies and attractions and repulsions like to vibrate, to shake us. This can result in a sort of mental / spiritual seasickness.

Seasickness is probably not enjoyed by anyone. But the “Shake it, baby” of Mind is. Like some insect who jumps this way and that, we enjoy flying in all directions, drawn or propelled by this impulse or that Hot / Cool link. (Social media are experts at inspiring us to JUMP LIKE INSECTS.)

So, the “Shake it, baby” of Mind is enjoyed, until it isn´t — until you tire of your boat being tossed this way and that on the stormy sea of Mind. Until you no longer see it as a sign of being “active”, “dynamic” and “alive”, but as seasickness.

Then you might want to anchor your boat and go ashore, to stand still on Terra firma. You will still vibrate, still enjoy good vibrations. (Possibly you might want to skip the excitations bit.)