Understanding Karma

Recognizing that karma is essentially imponderable, the Buddha refused to discuss its intricacies or the way it unfolded in one’s life. He spoke of the cause-and-effect relationship between actions and consequences and emphasized the value of mindful scrutiny of each thought and behavior in controlling negative karma, but beyond this, he avoided abstract discussions on the issue. Why is karma so inscrutable? The foremost reason has to do with the unity of life and the impossibility of explaining unity from the perspective of separateness. When we are acting from the delusion of self, our motives are not in concert with the rest of creation. Blinded by desire, we in effect act “alone” against the whole, and frustration and suffering inevitably result. The metaphors offered below can be helpful in gaining some understanding of this important but enigmatic subject.

Electricity  If we are working carelessly with wiring and we get shocked, we are unlikely to think that the bolt of electricity was punishment from God for our negligence. Rather, we see right away that we have no one to blame but ourselves. Certain behaviors are paired with certain predictable consequences. If we are not careful in the way we handle live wires, we will learn hard lessons in the process. It is simply the nature of the work. Similarly, esoteric spirituality emphasizes personal responsibility rather than ideas such as sin and divine judgment. Karma is called the great teacher, and while its consequences can be dire, it is through the pain and suffering our mistakes produce that we ultimately become seekers on the path to freedom.

Ceiling Fan  Those of us who live in warm climates often have ceiling fans that quietly, but efficiently, circulate the air and make our homes more comfortable. When the fan is turned off, the motor stops propelling the blades, but they continue in their circular motion for several minutes before they come to a complete stop. It is the same with karma. Even when we are able to refrain from behavior that has produced suffering for us in the past, we may not find ourselves immediately free from that suffering. The momentum of our previous actions must often play out in our lives before the fruits of our new behavior become apparent.

Spiderweb  Spiderwebs have decorated the nooks and crannies of our lives as long as any of us can remember. The delicate interweaving of the silken threads is designed by nature to alert the spider to the slightest disturbance. If the web is touched in any part, the entire structure vibrates. The world we live in is similarly intertwined. Nothing is separate, and a disturbance in one area is felt throughout the whole. The principle of karma is based on this kind of reciprocity and balance. Our individual behavior does not occur in a vacuum, and no matter how insignificant our actions may seem, they produce an effect in the world around us.

Factorial  When we are suffering, we often want to isolate the causes and identify the sequence of actions that led to our current conditions. We continually obsess over particular actions, our own or others’, as the genesis of our personal and societal problems today. But nothing is that simple. Consider factorials—mathematical calculations of the number of ways in which a certain number of things can be sequenced. The factorial for 10 exceeds three and a half million possible sequences! If just ten physical objects can be sequenced in so many different ways, it should be obvious that any attempt to analyze the karmic chain of causation in human behavior is futile. Everything causes everything; even the minor daily events in our personal lives are infinitely complex.

Photography as spiritual practice

A fundamental truth shared by the all mystics of the world is the wholeness of life, the unbounded, nondual glory of what is. And as incomprehenisible as it may seem, we are That. It follows that we are beholding the glories of our own Being. Why is it so hard to imagine? Conditioning; the content of our lives, to a large degree, begins and ends with language, even our understanding of self. To exist and be recognized, and to ensure efficiency in a society that worships speed and productivity, things must be labeled, categorized, defined and pigeonholed. We see what we expect to see, what we have been taught to see. A thick screen of concepts and abstractions blinds us to the unique radiance and artistry of every concrete object. As Jung said, no concept is a carrier of life. Conventional wisdom is the “fast food” of the mind, streamlined, efficient and readily understood by all. It is also the enemy of original vision.

The practice of photography can help us learn to open a direct line to reality, unclouded by the dust of the past – to become intimate with life – but it is always a struggle to see with fresh eyes. To be truly sensitive to the unique visual offerings of the moment, we must set aside agendas and preconcieved notions, be free of pretention, and open to the intuitive and spontaneous reactions of our being as it responds to the beauty and wonder of life. We must open the doors of our senses and FEEL more than think. Though prior training in technique is important, the best work has no identified purpose and often has the quality of an accident. In a sense, the picture takes itself. When we step aside, and give Life itself free reign, unhampered by our premeditated ideas of what should happen, the resultant pictures can be quite remarkable. Only after the fact, when assessing the pictures earlier taken should reason and judgment play a significant role.

This kind of photography promotes the rediscovery of the obvious. It sees the miraculous in the common and magic in our everyday surroundings. When we are not rushed, and our minds are unclouded by conceptualizations, a veil will sometimes drop, introducing the viewer to a world unseen since childhood. We reach a point where we forget ourselves, much as artists and musicians do, and become what is happening. Sink into the moment, and just BE. There was a time, when, as children we inhabited a world devoid of boundaries and unmediated by the canned perceptions with which we were later inculcated. Picasso once said that it took him four years to paint like Raphael, but it took him a lifetime to paint like a child. There is a parallel with photography. We can take photos correctly, and follow all the rules of composition and balance, and still not capture the passion and magic that makes a great picture. To see things in their original beauty, we must crack the shell of preconceptions, and penetrate the habits of the mind. When this happens, you will find a world overflowing with wonder and hopefully capture them in your photos.

I have attached below a few examples of photos taken of commonplace subjects that might kindle your imagination of what is possible: a backyard leaf, highrise reflections, plastic bag, and torn cardboard.

 

 

 

Paths up a mountain

Anyone who has read even part of my book knows how much I rely on metaphors to explain the counterintuitive and paradoxical subjects that one encounters in nondual spirituality. This metaphor is about the paths to the summit of a mountain that wind up its slopes. I use it here to illustrate how a common truth, a shared realization of nonduality, can be found at the heart of Hinduism, Buddhism, Christianity, Judaism, Taoism and Sufism, when they exhibit such diverse rituals, beliefs, and practices. In a world of continuing religious conflict, there is a tremendous need for this vision of wholeness.

As is the case with most mountains, there are numerous paths that start from different points around the bottom, and they vary widely in the skill and strength needed to climb them. For those people who remain at the lower elevations, the views are limited. In the foothills at the base of the mountain, one area may be lush with vegetation, while another is arid and rocky. In another location, there may be a pine forest. The few who climb higher get an ever-widening perspective. As they gain altitude, they begin to see some of what climbers on other paths can see. As they grow close to the top, the diverse paths draw closer together, and climbers occasionally glimpse each other. Ultimately, though they begin from very different places at the foot of the mountain, and follow dissimilar paths, when they converge at the summit, the jubilant climbers share the same spectacular view.

In spiritual endeavors, a similar phenomenon is true. People who are born into very different cultures and religions are often like people who live in the foothills of a vast mountain with little understanding of those from the others sides. They may recognize no similarity between their faith and those in other parts of the world, and often declare that they have a monopoly on truth. Their religious understanding is secondhand and conceptual. Those of other faiths may be seen as infidels, pagans, or lost souls, and conflict between such religions is not uncommon. This notwithstanding, there are those from every time and culture who have yearned for something more, an intuitive truth that resonates deeply in the heart. While the teaching styles and practices employed in the great wisdom traditions may be diverse, the mystical truth they espouse offers convincing evidence that wholeness lies at the heart of all. Seekers who dwell on concepts and secondhand understanding can only climb so high—but those who depend on actual experience can reach the summit and share the same realization: the unimaginable freedom inherent in their true nature, nonduality.

The Perennial Philosophy

Mystical practices, in contrast to faiths codified in written creeds, are based on direct, unmediated experience: knowing by being rather than by thinking and believing. In every age and culture, these esoteric spiritual paths have consistently directed practitioners to go within to discover their true nature and their place in the world. They share the belief that language, through its omnipresent and often unconscious role in defining our everyday reality, lies at the heart of our melancholy and alienation. While the practical value of language is beyond question, we fall into delusion when we mistake the map for the territory. When we see life through the prism of thought and conceptualization, division replaces wholeness. The symbols we use to communicate with each other must not be confused with the essential reality they represent. Serious seekers come to realize that it is our way of seeing the world that has caused our suffering, not the world itself.

This realization is reflected in a theme that appears over and over again in the mythology and sacred writings of humanity. It appears in the regions producing major civilizations, as well as in areas supporting the world’s indigenous populations. This theme, known as the Perennial Philosophy and popularized by Aldous Huxley’s book of the same title, is found at the core of the mystical, nondual forms of Hinduism, Buddhism, Taoism, Sufism, Judaism, and Christianity. In one variation or another, it is also fundamental to the work of many great thinkers, such as Plotinus, Hegel, Teilhard de Chardin, and Sri Aurobindo, and is espoused by many others, from Plato, Spinoza, and Jung to William James, Alan Watts, and Ken Wilber.

The central thesis of the Perennial Philosophy claims that there is something hidden from us by the numberless names and forms of manifestation. The ground of our being is the formless elemental source of all things. It is not envisioned as the creator of the world, a deity to be worshipped, appeased, or obeyed; rather, it is what we are. While most belief systems are content to posit some form of relationship with the Divine, the Perennial Philosophy recognizes our identity with the divine source. Throughout the history of human spirituality, its message is unequivocal: we are That.

Inherent in this understanding is the belief that the preeminent purpose and desire of humankind is to find its way back to this fundamental origin of what is. In contrast to the external rewards—salvation, an afterlife—sought by believers in more traditional forms of religion, the Perennial Philosophy sees something within us that calls us back to our beginnings. It is not a return to something we left behind so much as a recognition of something that has always been. As it is impossible to attain that which we never lost, seekers must simply remember what is, and be the “suchness” that they are—in other words, experience directly the most basic fact of being alive in this very moment. This suchness, so often mentioned in the mystical wisdom traditions, is simply what always is, but often goes unnoticed in our busy days and thought-filled minds.