In Search Of Serenity

We recently discussed an experience in which we were in an extremely peaceful and calm setting in one moment (outside at a community pool in the early evening, watching three or four people swim laps), then in a chaotic environment the next (driving our bickering children home). As we noted, even though we knew during the car ride that we should not feel differently than we did at the pool, the fact was that we did. And this has practical implications for the difficulties of implementing the absurd in everyday life.

Indeed, while we sometimes speak in absolutes on this blog (e.g., that all experiences are equivalent), we also recognize that such an outlook seems in conflict with the reality of human existence. For example, while we know that it does not "matter" whether we spend our time having sex or sitting on a rock, we (and we assume most others) would prefer the sex. The fact that this is based entirely on biological forces is more or less irrelevant--to deny the desire is, it could be argued, to deny our underlying human nature.

Further (and more to the point), no matter how strongly we believe in the absurd, we have thus far been unable to completely distance ourselves from our non-absurd self, which appears to lurk just behind us (with seemingly inexhaustible patience), ready and waiting for us to let down our guard. We long ago lost track of the number of times we "caught" ourselves being non-absurd and promised to "do better" in the future. Now we simply laugh such "transgressions" off--while we would like to think we will someday banish such slips, we are no longer so sure...

Indeed, we were struck to come across the following passage in Pico Iyer's recent book The Open Road:

"He (the Dalai Lama) told me that sometimes he felt that he could never do enough, and that nothing he did could ever really affect things....He told me that it was 'up to us poor humans to make the effort,' one step at a time, and again, as if invoking the final words of the Buddha, he spoke of 'constant effort, tireless effort, purusing clear goals with sincere effort.'

Then as we were walking out of the room, he went back and turned off the light. It's such a small thing, he said, it hardly makes a difference at all. And yet nothing is lost in the doing of it, and maybe a little good can come of it, if more and more people remember this small gesture in more and more rooms.

Six thousand days or so after that morning...I thought about that simple gesture of turning off the light. Every one of those six thousand days, it seemed to me, I had had some revelation, encountered some wisdom, scribbled down sentences I'd read or come up with myself about the meaning of the universe, the way to lead a better life, the essence of the soul, the unreality of the soul. I had had more lightning flashes and moments of illumination than I could count in the next six thousand years. And yet now, on this bright autumn morning, I could remember not a one of them, except the simple, practical task of turning off the light. Not enlightenment, not universal charity, not the Golden Rule or the wisdom of the ages: just something I could do several times a day." (Emphasis added.)

We have quoted Iyer several times in this blog, and hold him in very high regard in our unofficial "Pantheon of the Absurd." So to hear that he--after more than 20 years of absurdity--continues to struggle with the same issues as do we...well, it was something of a shock. However, as with the absurd itself, after a time we came to see this as rather a good thing. Put simply, while Iyer's experience may indicate we will always be subject to periodic bouts of anti-absurdity, it also suggests we should suffer such lapses with equanimity, rather than seeking to banish them. Better, in short, to accept some modicum of human nature than to strive (as it were) for some ever-higher plateau of absurdity (oh, the irony!).

Indeed, the whole thing puts us in mind of something a fellow golfer once said to us, along the lines of "Why should you expect to hit shots like pro golfers when you only play once a week?" In other words, while it may well be possible for those who devote their lives to meditation to feel calm and peaceful no matter the situation, it is almost surely unrealistic to believe such an existence is possible for those who choose to devote less time and effort to such a goal.

But maybe that's not such a bad thing after all...