Conflict & Creativity
Of all things I am, a fan of other people's creativity is certainly at the top of the list.
And if I might add, the power of human creativity, for better or worse, is certainly not limited to the written word. Film, for example, has the power to uplift the human spirit in ways that little else possibly can. I would thank the likes of Carl Sagan, for instance, whose Cosmos series stretched my vision beyond the limits of our human scale, and thankfully, I would never be the same. Another very short film, now readily available on Youtube (See Powers of Ten*), but seen by me only once long ago when it was first made in the late 70s, changed me irrevocably and gave rise to a fascination with scale and perspective that became the foundation of many brainstorms since. If only for its power to remind us how much we typically don’t see that is nonetheless worth remembering, if the whole truth is what we seek.
For what it’s worth, this mind blowing little insight about seeing things from different points of view has brought me much peace where there was otherwise dissonance. For not seeing what the ancients called ‘diversity in unity,’ much of the world is, as I was, perpetually in conflict over who is right about what is true. And whereas the ancient understood this circle way to be the very source of true intelligence, the fact that we all see the same world differently more often leads to conflict than to mutual enrichment in our time.
For thousands of years now we have been taught the rather nonsensical notion that spiritual traditions compete, and that we must choose between them, as if only one could be true. That the bloodiest wars are fueled by this confused conceit underscores Plato’s point that the word ‘mine’ is poisonous to both peace and truth. And meanwhile, countless lifetimes are wasted in unnecessary and ubiquitous conflict for this failure of empathy, as if ‘the truth’ could be owned like some zero sum quantity.
While we’ve been under the spell of this notion for millennia, it is nonetheless a relatively recent notion, brought to us by those who’ve endorsed mere belief, rather than understanding, as the objective of spiritual growth. In fact, those who encourage taking sides in this competition deny the validity of all perspectives, other than their own, and thus do not constitute actual wisdom traditions at all. These are mere belief systems, meant to be taken literally and followed without question, rather than to encourage the question and answer process that is the natural, and perhaps only, path to understanding and wisdom. (See more on the difference in religions and wisdom traditions here…*)
It is, arguably, only when we put these wisdom traditions together into dialogue that we can see what they come to agreement on and hear what they are saying with one voice. As Native American visionary, John Trudell, put it: “we have the responsibility to use our intelligence.” Unfortunately, “We’ve not been encouraged to think. We’ve been programmed to believe.” And the truth is, “You cannot believe and think simultaneously.” In fact, “belief limits thinking.”(Trudell, 2007) And worse, it can, and too often has, encouraged all manner of sins against humanity and nature.
By contrast - my students are always surprised to discover - the ancients ask us to believe nothing at all, except in our own inner goodness. They ask us to follow no one – only to open our own eyes and listen to our own inner voice - for therein lies the source of true wisdom. As one popular facebook meme puts it, “Religion is faith in someone else’s experience. Spirituality is faith in our own experience.”(Chopra)
Buddha punctuates this point. When people asked him, as they often did, ‘Are you a god? Are you a prophet? Are you a saint? Buddha replied humbly, “I am awake.”
What ancient wisdom traditions offer us is not meant to be followed blindly, but to seen for what it is, to be understood and applied for the sake of solving problems and resolving those conflicts we face, and too often create, for lack of this wisdom our ancient ancestors lived, and sometimes died, to pass forward.
While we are taught and teach our young to compete and use our voices to argue only to win, rather than to understand or to be understood, the ancients would teach us healthier forms of dialogue and argument, means of resolving conflict, often before it’s even begun. Anyone who takes up what they called ‘dialectic thinking’ learns from differences in perspective, and each voice will bring depth to understanding the same way that a second eye adds depth to what can be seen with only one. And while the whole truth about anything will remain forever out of reach, this is the real beauty of ancient wisdom, for they knew that we are never finished learning!
These are lessons learned best from experience, for what the ancients offer us are not absolute truths, but practical wisdom, meant to be applied to life’s daily challenges. For the clash of egos that permeates human existence today is no mere abstraction, but creates the harsh reality of too many daily lives and causes unspeakable suffering for many.
How can one raise a healthy and happy child in a world at war over things that cannot be won?
(earlier?)
All of this shows why we cannot teach anyone anything they are not ready to learn. After a career teaching philosophy and the history of ideas to young minds so bright they sparkle in memory, I’m well aware of the importance of readiness in learning. “Nothing is an answer if you haven’t asked the question,” Socrates said.
And this is why the written word is so valuable – because it waits! Experience readies us for understanding that comes in a flash when the time is right. And while we may not have the handy role models we might wish for to teach us the wisdom we need, the beauty of the written word is that it waits for us to come to it.
My daughter was ready for children’s books when I began my writing, and by the time she would be ready for what I would wish to teach her, I may well be long gone. So I wrote that I might leave this behind for her and my grandchildren, some I might never know and who will never otherwise know me (as I write, mine are 6 and 12). So all I could do in the meantime was my best, as a parent and grandparent, a writer and teacher of other people’s divine creativity. Like this book perhaps, not a job that can ever be finished, just a way of life.
Of all things I am, a fan of other people's creativity is certainly at the top of the list.
And if I might add, the power of human creativity, for better or worse, is certainly not limited to the written word. Film, for example, has the power to uplift the human spirit in ways that little else possibly can. I would thank the likes of Carl Sagan, for instance, whose Cosmos series stretched my vision beyond the limits of our human scale, and thankfully, I would never be the same. Another very short film, now readily available on Youtube (See Powers of Ten*), but seen by me only once long ago when it was first made in the late 70s, changed me irrevocably and gave rise to a fascination with scale and perspective that became the foundation of many brainstorms since. If only for its power to remind us how much we typically don’t see that is nonetheless worth remembering, if the whole truth is what we seek.
For what it’s worth, this mind blowing little insight about seeing things from different points of view has brought me much peace where there was otherwise dissonance. For not seeing what the ancients called ‘diversity in unity,’ much of the world is, as I was, perpetually in conflict over who is right about what is true. And whereas the ancient understood this circle way to be the very source of true intelligence, the fact that we all see the same world differently more often leads to conflict than to mutual enrichment in our time.
For thousands of years now we have been taught the rather nonsensical notion that spiritual traditions compete, and that we must choose between them, as if only one could be true. That the bloodiest wars are fueled by this confused conceit underscores Plato’s point that the word ‘mine’ is poisonous to both peace and truth. And meanwhile, countless lifetimes are wasted in unnecessary and ubiquitous conflict for this failure of empathy, as if ‘the truth’ could be owned like some zero sum quantity.
While we’ve been under the spell of this notion for millennia, it is nonetheless a relatively recent notion, brought to us by those who’ve endorsed mere belief, rather than understanding, as the objective of spiritual growth. In fact, those who encourage taking sides in this competition deny the validity of all perspectives, other than their own, and thus do not constitute actual wisdom traditions at all. These are mere belief systems, meant to be taken literally and followed without question, rather than to encourage the question and answer process that is the natural, and perhaps only, path to understanding and wisdom. (See more on the difference in religions and wisdom traditions here…*)
It is, arguably, only when we put these wisdom traditions together into dialogue that we can see what they come to agreement on and hear what they are saying with one voice. As Native American visionary, John Trudell, put it: “we have the responsibility to use our intelligence.” Unfortunately, “We’ve not been encouraged to think. We’ve been programmed to believe.” And the truth is, “You cannot believe and think simultaneously.” In fact, “belief limits thinking.”(Trudell, 2007) And worse, it can, and too often has, encouraged all manner of sins against humanity and nature.
By contrast - my students are always surprised to discover - the ancients ask us to believe nothing at all, except in our own inner goodness. They ask us to follow no one – only to open our own eyes and listen to our own inner voice - for therein lies the source of true wisdom. As one popular facebook meme puts it, “Religion is faith in someone else’s experience. Spirituality is faith in our own experience.”(Chopra)
Buddha punctuates this point. When people asked him, as they often did, ‘Are you a god? Are you a prophet? Are you a saint? Buddha replied humbly, “I am awake.”
What ancient wisdom traditions offer us is not meant to be followed blindly, but to seen for what it is, to be understood and applied for the sake of solving problems and resolving those conflicts we face, and too often create, for lack of this wisdom our ancient ancestors lived, and sometimes died, to pass forward.
While we are taught and teach our young to compete and use our voices to argue only to win, rather than to understand or to be understood, the ancients would teach us healthier forms of dialogue and argument, means of resolving conflict, often before it’s even begun. Anyone who takes up what they called ‘dialectic thinking’ learns from differences in perspective, and each voice will bring depth to understanding the same way that a second eye adds depth to what can be seen with only one. And while the whole truth about anything will remain forever out of reach, this is the real beauty of ancient wisdom, for they knew that we are never finished learning!
These are lessons learned best from experience, for what the ancients offer us are not absolute truths, but practical wisdom, meant to be applied to life’s daily challenges. For the clash of egos that permeates human existence today is no mere abstraction, but creates the harsh reality of too many daily lives and causes unspeakable suffering for many.
How can one raise a healthy and happy child in a world at war over things that cannot be won?
(earlier?)
All of this shows why we cannot teach anyone anything they are not ready to learn. After a career teaching philosophy and the history of ideas to young minds so bright they sparkle in memory, I’m well aware of the importance of readiness in learning. “Nothing is an answer if you haven’t asked the question,” Socrates said.
And this is why the written word is so valuable – because it waits! Experience readies us for understanding that comes in a flash when the time is right. And while we may not have the handy role models we might wish for to teach us the wisdom we need, the beauty of the written word is that it waits for us to come to it.
My daughter was ready for children’s books when I began my writing, and by the time she would be ready for what I would wish to teach her, I may well be long gone. So I wrote that I might leave this behind for her and my grandchildren, some I might never know and who will never otherwise know me (as I write, mine are 6 and 12). So all I could do in the meantime was my best, as a parent and grandparent, a writer and teacher of other people’s divine creativity. Like this book perhaps, not a job that can ever be finished, just a way of life.