I spotted this movie reference on Monkey See, Monkey Do in a post on karma and thought it a good introduction to an upcoming post I plan on the same subject. Others might see the cause/effect of dependent origination, and the scientific minded will probably also see chaos theory. Broadband access is probably essential to see the movie. You probably will want to find your speaker controls before you visit the link. Then use the “Watch It” icon to start things rolling.

For a belief to survive, it does not have to be true or factual; it only has to be useful.

The above is a paraphrased thought culled from Stumbling on Happiness by Harvard psychologist Daniel Gilbert.

(It would be a mistake to read the following as anything other than a conversation between two beings, who, though separated by undeniable differences in theology, age, and space, remain friends of the heart.)

A few days ago …

“You can choose to believe God’s word,” the 83-year old voice from a 1000 miles distant insisted. “Belief is a choice.”

I’m trying not to overdo blogging anymore. I’m trying to generally not post more than an item per week on the average. When I found this item from Woodmoor Village Zendo, though, I decided to break my guidelines, at least temporarily. The excerpt below from Finite Beings and Selves makes an important point that I’ve seen many misunderstand. First the excerpt.

We are finite beings, and even though in Zen we may frequently talk about the illusions and delusions of self, we need a healthy self, even if one that increasingly realizes that the notion of a separate self is one to transcend, in order to live with the realization of impermanence. To realize that we don’t have a separate self, but rather that we inter-are, requires first an understanding that being is process, not static entity, a concomitant realization of the embodied nature of our beingness, and an appreciation for the fact that the flow of being that animates our sense of selfhood (as process) is impermanent.

I think the title of this post is also a title of a book by J. Krishnamurti, but I didn’t get my topic from that. In fact, I got it from a book called Opening the Hand of Thought, by Kosho Uchiyama. And in one of those serendipitous ways, I recently read an unrelated book, Stumbling on Happiness by Daniel Gilbert, a Harvard psychologist, that connected directly to the “thought in hand.”

A relevant excerpt from Opening the Hand of Thought is:

Usually people assume they are born onto a stage or into a world that already exists, that they dance around on stage for a while, and then leave when they die. Actually, though, when I am born, I give life to my world as well! I live together with that world; therefore, that world forms the contents of my self. Then when I die, I take the world with me; that is, my world dies with me.

As I was sitting in meditation in the meditation hall, I felt some hairs tickling at my collar where my token kesa brushes my neck. I shrugged it off a bit. It sure didn’t feel like budding enlightenment. A bug? I brushed my hand in the area to sweep anything I found to the floor, and there on the floor lay one of those giant winged Southern cockroaches, probably about 2 inches long, and a bit more with feet and antennae extended. I got up from my cushion, found a tissue paper, and carried it outside and let it go in the midday heat and light. (Those who think their meditative practice is enhanced by letting bugs bite and crawl on them will just have to judge me.)

There are many admonitions in Zen about “letting go.” Whole books have been written on the subject; they mostly expound the merit and virtue of doing so, or exhort one on page after page to do this. Very few have useful advice about how to go about doing this. It seems like simplicity itself, yet I have not found it to be that way.

The obstacles I’ve encountered include the following:

1. I did not see or want to see that I was holding on to something.
2. I did not want to let go.
3. I wanted to let go.
4. I tried to push or hurl something away that I didn’t like.
5. I reached for something thinking it was part of letting go.