I went for a bike ride in Southern Albemarle County
yesterday afternoon. As I headed onto
Old Lynchburg Road, the chill of the late fall air sent a shock through my
lungs reminding me again that riding in Virginia in the Winter is as much a
test of will as it is exercise. Before
long, legs and heart pumping, I thawed myself into a steady state that drove
out the cold. By the time I turned to
head east on 708, I had long forgotten the cold and was relishing the fact that
I was back on my bike after weeks of travel.
And then, after cresting the third long climb I saw them. Two zebras and a mule standing in the middle
of a field on the north side of the road.
Zebras! In a region of the
country where one expects to see ostentatious horse farms, manicured vineyards,
and sweeping estates, zebras are certainly unexpected. In an instant, I pulled off the road, hopped
off my bike and walked over to the pasture fence to take a photo. As I did that, I realized my motivation for
the photo was an echo across over 40 years.
On one family trip across the desert Southwest in the early
1970s, my parents got a bag of M&Ms (still the official road trip snack of
champions!). The four of us boys were
told that we would receive M&Ms for being the first to spot any wild
animals during our drive. Long before iPods,
iPads, and all digital manners of diversion, a great idea was to get sons distracted
by a little competition that would have them focusing out the window rather
than on the fact that Dan liked the seatbelt too tight or that someone was in
someone else’s space. While on the road
and at rest areas, various ones saw all manner of birds, reptiles and the
occasional dog in another car. For each
first, M&Ms were dispensed. The behaviorist
B.F. Skinner would have been having a heyday with this Pavlovian environmental conditioning
experiment.
Late into dusk, still suffering from my M&M deficient
hypoglycemia, I announced that I saw a moose.
And before I could get through with the surprise sighting, I clarified that
I had been certain it was a moose because I saw its ears! I was told that I was “lying” and was not
rewarded with M&Ms. And so,
yesterday, when I saw the zebras, the little boy in me wanted to be damn sure
that I had a picture to prove that, indeed, I had seen the zebra. What I didn’t know when I was 4 or 5 was that
objective truth was not objective at all – it was consensus experience. Sure, the objective fact was that I probably
saw a misshapen saguaro cactus with wide sweeping arms and little flower bud
nubs (filling in for ears on my moose).
But in the shadowy silhouette, the geometry was that of a moose standing
in the night air of the Sonoran Desert.
As I reflect on this lesson – “lying” about seeing what
others didn’t see – I marveled at the hypocrisy of my “truth”
conditioning. Most impactful in my
childhood were stories from the Bible, a daily companion to my upbringing. As a boy who saw and heard things that others
didn’t, I often marveled at how giants could exist, how bushes could talk, how
dreams could fracture ribs, how fantastical miracles could be revered if they
were told in a book that I was supposed to “believe” but the same dimensions
were “lies” if they were experienced by a little boy. And as I grew older, I was supposed to accept
other consensus “truths” – faith, hope, love, justice, honesty – only to see in
their consensus practice evident hypocrisy and contradiction. The same boy who saw a moose was able to
decipher covert operations by the U.S. government in Central America which
later became known as the Iran Contra affair.
The same boy found and helped close the second largest white collar
criminal tax fraud in U.S. history; developed a mechanism to render visible
assets that were off balance sheet to stabilize and grow economies; went into
conflict regions around the world where corrupt corporations were bribing
governments to rob wealth from countries and their people and brought light and
justice to places where no one else would go; and, continues to find the elusive
desert moose that others don’t see.
I’ve watched over the years as those who have been the
arbiters of public “truth” – the consensus keepers – have manipulated propaganda
to hypnotize the population into being fearful of their own observations. When governments manipulate and abuse their
governed selling predatory intrusion and industrial warfare in the name of
security; when churches and clergy demand their tithes but build their own
wealth rather than feeding and clothing the needy; when families cling to the
illusion of what loving relationships could be rather than acknowledging the
pain of isolation in their midst; when disease management is sold as “healthcare”;
and, when financial security is built on digital records that can be eradicated
in a single magnetic burst, we’ve long abandoned integrity to our own
observations and we’ve long left any realm of truth. Over the past few weeks, while terror has
marched across every media feed again, weapon makers have seen their fortunes
soar (Defense Sector stocks up over 5.4% while the market has been up
0.47%). The Brookings Institute along
with many others have reported that those wonderful Toyota trucks driven by
mercenary forces flying black flags are financed by oil sales (that’s right,
someone is buying the oil) and “venture capital” style investments from Kuwait,
Qatar, and Saudi Arabia.
Purveyors of fear are most often the most vocal proclaimers
of “truth”. Why is that? Well, for one, it’s terribly unacceptable to
question “truth”. In the past, it’s led
to being outcast, stigmatized, or even killed – all significant aversion
re-enforcements to insure consensus thinking and acting. Additionally, as Gregory Bateson pointed out
in his work on psychological disorders, if you can get someone to doubt their
own observations of reality, you can rapidly convince them that they cannot
trust themselves and therefore force them into situations where they “trust”
others. The more subtle the subterfuge,
the more effective the coercion. And
behind every “truth” and “fear” purveyor stands someone who benefits. Convince people they’re in danger – no worries,
the government will keep you “safe”.
Convince people that they’re sinful – no worries, the church will take
your time, focus, and money in exchange for an eternal peace. Convince people that they’re incapable of
understanding money – no worries, advisors will sell you no-downside guarantees
in the form of pensions and insurance which “can never go down” never telling
you what they do with the “ups” they make.
I’m going through an amazing journey in life. Each one of the consensus illusions in my
world has been held up for examination in 2015.
And each one, on close examination have crumbled into bits. Not a little bit – entirely! And what I’ve chosen to do is find the
motivation behind each – find out who was the beneficiary of my distraction –
and elected to learn from these experiences rather than judge or despise
them. I’ve chosen to live in
transparency – sharing what others would see as ‘good’ or ‘bad’ without any
sense of concern. I’ve chosen to live in
complete and emanating love – insuring that those who are in my life receive
the best from me and that I receive the best from them. I’ve reaffirmed my commitment to give no
quarter to the illusion of fear in myself or others. Why?
Because I’ve always seen a world that includes imagination, wonder, and
conscious living. I’ve always seen the elusive
desert moose. And I choose to live in a
world where I’m measured by the quality of my actions, not by my resonance with
consensus. In so doing, I’m inverting
alchemy – taking gold and turning it back into humanity. I think I’ll have a few M&Ms now cuz
there’s a Little Guy who just saw a zebra!
David,
ReplyDeleteIt so happened that it was 40 years ago that the issue of 'integrity to our own observations' was brought into stark relief in my experience. A pivotal instance, which in some sense set the tone for the time since, was when in '75, in the 5th grade, reading an article in National Geographic on Luis Leeky,Sr., and I groked with very personal immediacy "archaeology". The recess bell rang and the class filed outdoors toward the ball field. Looking down on the path I'd walked so many times before I saw a rusted steel ball and, picking it up, it was revealed to be the bolt for a bolt action rifle. While teams were being chosen for the game I started digging around the loose roots of the huge tree that stood feet from home plate. Before the game was through I'd unearthed shards of white and blue porcelain pottery. One piece, dated on the bottom of the base, "1838". The lesson that day related to both attending to my own perception, and, as importantly, doing so independently of what others are doing, or what group regimen they may be conforming to. I realized that I hold a direct relation with everything, and that relation is not mediated by institutions, or collective expectations. That same year, after I'd read some physics and begun to show the class something of it on the chalkboard, and it became clear that the teacher had no idea what that subject matter entailed, within a few days the teacher had my viola instructor take me aside and explain that he'd had friends who were damaged by "mind control". The teachers heard that I practiced the Silva Method, Silva Mind Control, The American Dynamic Meditation System, and I knew that Jose Silva had been formally excommunicated from Roman Catholicism for claiming that he found the "Keys to The Kingdom", and that those same methods of the use of the body and mind that Jesus seemed to have demonstrated are available to everyone. So the contours of the contest for my attention were coming into focus. Either I continue to attend to self evident observation, or relinquish that habit of curious discovery in favor of acquiescing to extra-personal injunctions.
Had you not 'seen the moose' that became Iran-Contra I never would have invited Diane Miller, of the Christic Institute, to give a workshop on Integrity In Politics at the Zen monastery where I was a resident. And if Teilhard de Chardin, who underwent decades of Vatican censure over his commitment to derive direct insight through personal observation, hadn't written The Phenomenon of Man, the Christic Institute may never have come about. And if my parents, in their very first conversation, ever, hadn't mentioned that they'd both read that book, I just may not have been born, to them. And if Barbara Marx Hubbard hadn't read Teilhard I may not have gone to that monastery (an even longer story). This impulse to attend to our own integrity appears to be the thematic thread through the motivations and commitments to which I owe my very existence, or the quality of it.