transcendence Archives - Ameritecture

From Resilience to Transcendence

What do we live for?

We arrive screaming pulled from the comfort of our mother’s womb. Whether we leave this world with someone at our side, or alone, we all hope someone remembers us—at least for a while. In the years between our beginning and end, we forge a life we call our own. Failures and victories mark our path which, full of transgressions and glory, defines who we are, then once were.

Soon, we are forgotten. Which is as it should be. But the contribution we’ve made to the soul that offered us its eternal wisdom upon our first inhalation has been made even wiser at its departure upon our last exhalation. Our primary job is to be the vessel and steward of our soul. Although we give our ego much more playing time during our lives, we should revere our soul with a sense of respectful awe—especially in the last quarter of life. Upon our death, our soul moves on to possess another being in their first breath as an older and wiser soul. That is our everlasting contribution—the one true legacy that is ours, alone.

That’s it. That is why we are/were here. That’s all there is. And, it’s grand.

In August, I wrote about how to achieve resilience in your life that included three steps: Know Thyself, Honor Thyself, and Steel Thyself. That if you successfully pursued these steps it would result in a “constitution that is unassailable.” That you might even become “that person that in the face of adversity has a curious grin on their face.” If you missed that essay, or want to review it, go here.

I need to admit now that I was holding out on you; that there is a fourth step that takes you beyond resilience to transcendence. In order to move from resilience to transcendence (what others may call enlightenment), there is another step that is important to enjoy a thriving last quarter of life and to leave this world in peace: Liberate Thyself.

In some cultures, folks in their last quarter of life are revered. They are cared for, respected and, moreover, listened to. I suspect these people have an easier time finding peace, equanimity, and transcendence before they pass as compared to those of us who are more often ignored and discarded in American culture.

Our culture is fast: fast food, fast fashion, fast cars, fast relationships, and fast opinions. We dismiss the rule, “speed kills,” with cheerful ignorance. The wisdom of living more slowly is borderline unpatriotic. As a consequence, liberating thyself is arguably more difficult in America, and also more important to those of us who want to make our exit in peace rather than in a state of suffering.

We can, however, achieve a state of transcendence that assures sweet peace. In America, we may just have to work a bit harder to get there. Among other things, we have to recognize the delicate and often contentious relationship between our ego and our soul.

If you are a long-time reader of these essays, I actually haven’t been holding out on you about liberating thyself as I have written about this before. However, in the face of disturbing unknowns that seem to increase dramatically as our country faces national elections today, and since many more readers have recently joined ameritecture.com, I thought it might be time to pull things together again in one essay with links for you to conduct a deeper dive to suit your own particular needs or concerns. To give you all the steps to understand the path to transcendence.

In “The Identity Trap: Suffering or Transcendence” (click here), I argue that while we arrive in the world as a clean slate—egoless—we should also leave the world as a clean, or relatively clean, slate. That in the first three phases of life, preparation (0-25 years); achievement (26-45 years); and actualization (46-65 years), during which we are creating and refining our egos, our identity serves to both differentiate us as uniquely valuable as well as provide a basis for belonging to places, organizations, and groups. Our egos and attendant identities act to locate us within society. But then there is a fork in the road.

In the fourth quarter of life (65+ years), if we cling to that ego that has defined us, we may spend our final days suffering. That the key to achieving sweet peace and transcendence is to let go of our ego. It is a very challenging process, but like anything else you have accomplished in life, with diligence and discipline it can be achieved. Fair warning: your ego will fight like hell to preserve itself. It has been the alpha actor in your life since a few days after birth. But it is time for the other actor—your soul—to become the touchstone to govern the balance of your life. The desires and aversions and delusions that occupy that ego-driven voice in your head must be expelled to take the path to transcendence—to avoid suffering. This is what some spiritual teachers refer to as living in the seat of the soul.

As I summarized in this essay,

The disturbances and discontents that inflicted others no longer afflict me. FOMO (fear of missing out) has been replaced by the equanimity of missing out. Let the rabble roar. If you have triggers, they are yours, not mine. My awareness is elsewhere. My mind is sucking up knowledge like a kindergartner. It is a very different me than the one I left behind. No burdensome expectations or obligations, no doubts, or fears, or anger. Moreover, no hurry. Death will come when it will and I will welcome it in the same manner I welcomed life: with a sense of optimistic curiosity. Whether it is a door or a wall doesn’t matter, because I have my sweet peace in this world and it is simply magnificent.

In a later essay, I hung ornaments on the tree; I offered “Twelve Contemplations for a Better Tomorrow” (click here) that included practical tools and steps to free yourself from your ego based on my learnings from Buddhism and Stoicism. In this essay, I cover fun things like getting naked, dying to live, discarding regrets and desires, and leaving things better than you found them, as well as eight other contemplations. I’ll add Christ to the mix today including his teaching in John 17: 14-15 which (in my interpretation) suggests that being in the world, but not of the world is what happens when you forsake your ego for your soul. You transcend the world in favor of sweet peace. You live in a spiritual realm that enables what I have been pursuing for the last several years now: heaven on earth, which I suggest is the true Holy Grail of life. (My poem, “Heaven on Earth,” is included at this post.)

Finally, in “Curating Sweet Peace” (click here), which I published in the transition month of November—between autumn and winter—I wrote about “coming to terms with one’s life and inevitable death” and offered the mental gymnastics exercise of considering that “if we knew we would live forever—a deathless existence—what meaning would our lives have?” to embrace, rather than resist, death’s inevitability. Further, I suggested that we recognize the challenges the world keeps throwing in our face and the role of good practices:

Dastardly dissonances come and go with high frequency. This is why we must find a rhythm of practices that support our desire for sweet peace. This is where the process of curation comes in. In your constellation of practices that involve different tools (principal among them meditation) you will, over time, land on elements that prove effective in producing that sense of harmony that literally resonates in a manner to shield your sweet peace from a world that seems determined to disrupt, if not destroy, it. This is what is meant by ‘doing the work.’ There are many so-called spiritual teachers out there. And, as with your formal education, you will experience ones that work for you and ones that don’t. In my experience, it is a highly idiosyncratic process. Sometimes, just an irritating voice can eliminate a teacher, at others you will find more substantive points of attraction or dismissal. The point is (as with any regimen aimed at improving your life) to get started and stick with it.

As we face the coming chaos of our elections while we search for handholds of sanity, take comfort in your capacity to achieve your own sense of peace, regardless of your current age and station in life. The Stoics used the practice of negative visualization to steel themselves in advance of undesirable outcomes. It may be time to deploy this practice before what may be disturbing events over the next few months. I will conclude here with the same ending to “Curating Sweet Peace.”

Be patient with and attentive to others, but be selfish, too. Our country and world have many challenges, but I am a big believer in the power of one, which is to say making the world a better place starts with making a better, more peaceful, you. If your practice only yields glimpses of sweet peace, as mine has, trust me when I say it is well worth the effort. Tranquility is its own reward.

Once you pursue your own liberation, you may add a calm sense of knowing to your “curious grin” of resilience. No more navigating, or calculating, or striving, or becoming. Just thriving in the flow of whatever is in the moment. Whomever inhales your soul next will be a very fortunate being.

My blessing for you (and me) is always: “May you wake in glory, enjoy your day with grace, and spend your night in peace. Glory, grace, and peace.”

The Zen of the Irish

Ireland has produced some of the greatest poets, novelists, songwriters and musicians in the history of the world. It is a culture guided by simple phrases and smiling limericks. A lyric here and there explains everything from the great mysteries of the universe to what to expect in the afternoon; more often than not a “soft rain.” Not “drizzle” as it was known where I grew up near Seattle that suggests a relentless canopy of depression, rather a more elegant and humane rendering that fosters a sense of well-being enveloped by a nurturing lifeforce. Therefore: “soft rain.” The Irish know how to keep a wall between joy and suffering. Suffering is always lurking, why give it a perch upon which to prosper? Perspective is everything.

The Irish are known for their perseverance founded in perspective. Whether at the hands of British oppressors, the despair of a relentless famine, or the sadistic perversions of wayward nuns and priests, the Irish have endured. “Irish luck” may be the greatest oxymoron in the world, giving rise to the old saying, “if I didn’t have bad luck, I wouldn’t have any luck at all.” The contemplation of luck in Ireland is actually their whimsical way of mocking reality. Alas, only tourists kiss the Blarney Stone and wish on shamrocks. The Irish are often seen by Americans as though they expect to be punished—that they deserve to suffer. When I was a student at University College Cork in Ireland, I misunderstood their sense of fate as weakness, which I now understand as extraordinary strength and timeless wisdom.

In part, the Irish come to accept their fate as a product of their Catholic indoctrinations. After all, sinners (meaning everyone) deserve their suffering and punishment. Unlike Protestantism, Catholicism doesn’t allow the prospect of direct relations with a merciful God. Martin Luther’s sixteenth century concept of disintermediation—reducing the role of the church between man and God—which runs as a thread through his ninety-five theses (and later came to mark the period of Protestant Reformation), were never adopted by the papal collectors of simony who preserved their right to forgive indulgences (for a price) as a way to fill church coffers. Money (then as now) remained a prerequisite to mercy. The pope, and through him, the parish priests, are God’s only earthly authority in the Catholic version of Christianity. Irish Catholics accept the word of God from the robed ones in funny hats; any attempt at theological interpretation by parishioners is considered a fool’s errand. However, accepting sacrifice and anguish is more than a cultural condition promoted from the pulpit on Sundays. It also gave rise to the Irish secret weapon in forging a meaningful life: rethinking the relationship between life and reality.

Rather than fight with reality as most Americans do, the Irish aim is to simply manage their relationship—through the power of reflection—with a reality they see as mostly immutable. We Americans are taught to regard perseverance as something we are forced to do if we neglect the imperative to bend reality in our favor. We believe in our ability to be masters of our destiny (the facts be damned). Unlike Christians in America who pray to change circumstances and outcomes, the Irish pray as a matter of resolve to deal with things as they are. Americans grieve about what isn’t so, while the Irish deal with what is so. Whereas Americans regard acceptance of circumstance as a character flaw, the Irish know it is a sign of strength as resilience. The Irish take the world before them and accommodate it in a manner that minimizes suffering while preserving their dignity. That is how drizzle becomes a soft rain, hunger fortifies the soul, and humility (and confession) fill and smooth the cracks of transgression. It is their relationship with reality that is important, not reality itself. That is their secret weapon.

The key that opens the door to this relationship management skill—a cultural asset of the Irish—is reflection. While perspective is the foundation of perseverance, it is only possible through reflection. The basis of reflection is time and thoughtfulness, also known as deliberation. It not only allows better decision making, it fosters a creative process to support their wordcraft and music. Considering all aspects of every challenge from every angle and in consideration of both costs and (often hidden) benefits, the Irish create the opportunity for making lemonade when life hands them lemons, rather than the American proclivity for making mountains out of mole hills. Some might argue they have no choice while our American life is advantaged by greater leeway to satisfy our needs and avoid unwelcome consequences. Fair enough. Americans do have many advantages over the Irish (and most of the rest of the world). But how often do we Americans successfully bend reality to meet our desires, when we (and those around us) might have been better off simply adjusting our relationship with that same reality? Incessantly pounding square pegs into round holes has its own subtle, yet grinding, consequences.

Desire is, as both Buddha and Christ held, a sure pathway to suffering. Desire inherently demands change from the actual to the preferred. Americans often waste desire on superficial materialism that comes with lots and lots of packaging to satisfy mostly transient wants, while the Irish save desire for more moderate elements of life: a pint of stout, freshly baked soda bread, a warm heart, and a tune to weave them all together. Behind that Irish preternatural calm—that expressionless resolve—lies not the weakness of resignation; rather, the enduring resilience of timeless wisdom. As the Serenity Prayer intones, wisdom lies in knowing the difference between what can and cannot be changed. Ignoring such wisdom nearly assures suffering.

The key to happiness and fulfillment in the Irish life is sitting on the top of the wall between joy and suffering without falling to either side. This is the balance, or harmony, of equanimity—the calm state in the middle of the maelstrom that is the reality of life. They take life as it comes without chasing elements they do not control. They call it the Serenity Prayer for a reason. Can you imagine how much time this frees up for them? Without trying to twist and bend reality to their will, they have time to write, to laugh, to sing, and to care for all those children the church requires to keep its theological (and economic) Ponzi scheme alive.

It is argued that the path to transcendence is getting rid of the stuff—from material wants to our emotional and psychological hang-ups—that block one’s liberation to realize an open and fulfilling life. Spiritually constipated Americans take note: sit down with your eyes wide open, shut your mouth, let your ears get some playing time, breathe deeply through your nose, and let life come to you on its own terms. Foster a healthier relationship with reality. And, when you are ready, sip a Guinness. Do not chug it, sip it. It is not a Big Gulp, it is nourishment. It enables reflection and soothes the soul. After a couple, you may even sing like an Irishman. Or, write a piece titled “The Luck Zen of the Irish.”

Cheers.