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Voting in peace

Voting in peace

Row of people at voting boothsThe media is full of stories about people in distress anticipating the results of today’s elections. Some can’t sleep or can’t get out of bed. Others are upping their meds. One doctor’s post I read said he had never seen so many patients with anxiety over this year’s election. Some act out in their driving or with other antisocial behavior.

Of course, our political rhetoric promotes this. Opposing candidates are demonized so that we are encouraged to imagine the worst possible outcomes if they are elected. Calamities of all sorts are feared if the candidate we support doesn’t win. And then there are fears about the electoral process itself—technical breakdowns, violence, endless recounts, lawsuits.

From anticipation and imagination come anxiety and fear. And so, the blessing and curse of the human mind appears again. One of the great advantages of our brains is that it allows us to predict the future with some degree of accuracy. This allows us to make plans to take advantage of good circumstances (rain and sun means plant crops) and prepare for difficult ones (cold and snow means grow enough crops to store for the winter).

But our ability to predict the future is actually very limited, often much more so than we realize. We can never anticipate all that the natural world will send us, including weather, disease, earthquakes, and the stray comet collision every few hundred million years. For a variety of personal reasons, including past experience, our imaginations can conjure of wildly unrealistic expectations about the future.

The primary factor in our distress about the unpredictable and uncontrollable future is, of course, our ego. This is the self we imagine our self to be. It lives somewhere inside of us, peering out through our eyes and registering neural inputs through our other senses. It talks to itself incessantly in our minds with our thoughts. A popular and simple definition of this self is our body-mind. It comes into existence at our birth, evolves and changes over time, and comes to an end at our death.

But let me just drop here a very different understanding of all this. It’s from the Anglo-American, 20th century philosopher, teacher, and entertainer (his word), Alan Watts.

You don’t really exist. That is, as an ego, a soul, a separate will. When you realize this, you’re liberated. Ego is an abstraction…. So is one’s self. There’s a happening, but that’s not you. By dying to yourself, finding you don’t exist, you’re reborn. Forgetting yourself, the universe flows on.

Watts is usually thought of as a Western interpreter of East Asian philosophy and religion. But he grew up an Anglican and was ordained in the US as an Episcopal priest. While what he says here may sound Hindu or Buddhist, in fact, it also reflects one of the most profound but usually forgotten (or ignored) teaching of Jesus. In all four gospels, Jesus tells his disciples enigmatically that they must lose their life in order to find it. He says in Luke, for instance:

For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will save it.

Watts also echoes the famous dialog between Jesus and Nicodemus in John.

Very truly, I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born anew.

By implication, in order to be born again, whatever was born the first time must come to an end. It’s in Paul, however, where this notion is expressed most explicitly. For Paul, this is the meaning of the cross, as he says in Galatians.

I have been crucified with Christ, and it is no longer I who live, but it is Christ who lives in me.

Paul’s experience of the risen Christ meant the death of his “I”, his ego, so that now Christ, the Spirit of God incarnate, was recognized as his true self.

But wait—didn’t we start all this talking about election anxiety? How did we get sidetracked by Bible and theology? It’s a sign of the sad state of religion today that this is seen as taking a sidetrack. For at their core, all of the great religions are concerned with this question: Who am I, really? And they all seek to expose the imposter in this quest, the ego.

There may be no other place where egos are more on display than in an election campaign. Modern campaigns promote the person of the candidate far more than their position on issues, and denigrate the person of their opponent. And this clash of egos then drags in the egos of the candidate’s supporters.

Our egos are inherently insecure because they really don’t exist! One consequence is that we easily attach ourselves to other egos we admire, seeking to somehow claim their attributes as our own. This is the force behind the celebrity culture that has exploded in modern times. And politicians are now, essentially, celebrities, along with TV and movie stars, musicians, athletes, social media personalities, influencers, the “royals”, and anyone media outlets think can be used to attract “eyeballs” to their productions.

It’s not today’s political egos that concern us, however, but our own. Our anxiety over the results of today’s elections needs to be seen for what it is: fearing the defeat of our candidate as our own personal “defeat.” Because our ego is a product of our imagination, it easily spins fantasy worlds in which to exist, 99% of which are in the past or in the future (living in a fantasy present is usually called psychosis).

Our increasing dependence on the media with its inevitably artificial view of reality, and our growing frustration with our circumstances and fears about the world in which we think we live, leave us increasingly susceptible to manipulation by leaders of all sorts. They play sometimes upon our hopes but mostly upon our fears, to draw us into a worldview in which they will protect us and deliver us from disaster.

The ego loves the past and future. It has great difficulty living in the present. Tomorrow and each day that follows, and whenever the election results are known, we will wake up and go about living our lives. Much of it will go “according to plan” but often it will not, as has always been the case. We may rejoice over or bewail the election results, but their consequences for our lives will also be largely unpredictable and almost certainly not what we have imagined.

These days I keep coming back to Jesus’ simple teaching in the Sermon on the Mount in Matthew 6.

Which of you by worrying can add a single hour to your span of life? … Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these.

Our anxious ego spins out countless fantasies of doom and disaster in our minds, which keep us unendingly entangled. Living in these fantasies, however, blinds us to the reality of the here and now, including the beauty of the lilies and countless other attributes of the world around us.

The world isn’t all lilies, of course. But as Jesus goes on to say, by ignoring the “troubles” of our fantasies, we will be able to handle much better the problems we actually encounter in the here and now. Because then we can respond out of “the peace that surpasses all understanding” of our true self, which only exists in the present moment, rather than out of the obsessions and anxieties of our imaginary ego.

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Get in the garden

Get in the garden

Yard sign saying "Turn off the news and get in the garden"“Turn off the news and get in the garden!” Thanks to my Kansas gardening friend, Lisa, for sharing on Facebook this picture from the good people at Happy Gardens. Amusing as it is, I think there is deep wisdom here.

Most of us experience watching, listening to, or reading news stories as a pretty quick path to anger, depression, or both. And that’s the objective! The 19th century newspaper dictum, “If it bleeds, it leads,” is still the media’s guiding principle. While stories of extraordinary goodness have some appeal, it’s the stories of danger, fear, horror, outrage, etc. that get our attention.

This is how we’re wired. Our mind is designed to be constantly attuned to potential threats to our safety. For life in the modern world, we are hyper-sensitive, imagining far more dangers than actually exist. And that sensitivity can be manipulated. Or rather, we can be manipulated through the intentional triggering of that sensitivity. This is the story of modern advertising, politics, and the media.

How do we know if an advertised product will do what it claims, if the danger a politician warns us about is real, or if a frightening story in the news is true? In many cases, probably most, we can’t know. Not without a lot of effort, anyway.

There is an unreality that pervades all media but which it does its best to hide. Malcolm Muggeridge was a British journalist who late in life became a committed Christian. He also became an ardent critic of his profession. He told of how when he did a BBC news story outdoors, the TV crew would roll out a large piece of bright green AstroTurf for him to stand on, since the natural ground was usually too dull by broadcast standards. A simple example but it reveals the media mindset: reality isn’t enough. Viewers must be given a “better” fantasy.

Such inclinations are nothing new. After the Battle of Gettysburg in 1863, photographers rushing onto the battlefield to record the carnage rearranged bodies for “better” pictures. Cameras can reproduce great beauty, drama, emotion, and genuine moments of history. But they can also be used to manufacture such things with their limited view frame.

What looks like a near-riot on TV would be revealed, if the camera were pulled back, to be a handful of people goaded into their screaming and angry faces by an off-camera producer. Airbrushing has long made it impossible to know what an advertising model really looked like. Recently I watched with fascination as the man who took my passport picture manipulated the image on his computer screen to make all sorts of “improvements.” Who of us wants to see our image “in the raw”? With digitization, and now AI, these manipulations of reality are becoming nearly impossible to detect.

Stories are just as easily altered. The major news media have all cut back significantly their actual news gathering staffs, both foreign and domestic. Reporters often know little about the communities where events they report have occurred. The lack of staff also leads to “reporting by press release,” where it’s easier to simply repeat what a government official or other authority (often insisting on being anonymous) says about an event, rather than devote the resources to independently investigate it.

What we forget, however, is that most of what the media is telling us actually doesn’t matter. This is its big lie, its flimflam. “Hey, you’ve gotta see/hear/buy this!” No, you probably don’t. But the media has mastered all the tricks to make us feel as if we do. It knows how to push our buttons. There’s a reason TV has been called the plugin drug.

The result of all this is that our “reality” is increasingly a manufactured one. The media entertains us with endless stories of celebrity soap opera and dazzling lifestyles. At the same time, it infuriates or terrorizes us with “reports” of events and persons from around the world. In almost all case, we have no personal experience with these stories or any ability to determine their truth.

The admonition to “get in the garden” sounds like an easy way to avoid this conundrum and the stress it produces. In other words, be like an ostrich and bury your head in the mulch. But I don’t think that’s what it means. Rather, it as encouragement to find peace in rediscovering the really real.

The physical world around us is a tactile world engaging our senses. It is the world in which we live. The world of our screens is a virtual world of dancing pixels engaging and manipulating our minds. It purports to tell us of a world “out there” from which we feel separated and estranged.

The real world, however, the “garden,” welcomes us and makes us feel at home. It touches and embraces us. When we feel moist dirt with our hands, beach sand between our toes, snow flakes brushing our face, or the wind in our hair we experience a connection and oneness with the world, rather than separation and isolation.

Increasingly, scientific studies support our gut instinct. Why does walking in the woods or petting a cat in our lap lower our blood pressure? Why are “comfort” dogs now routinely brought to people in distress: at crime scenes, places of natural disaster, health care facilities, airports, schools during final exams?

Creative expression also grounds us and re-centers us. It renews our sense of purpose and worth. Whether it’s planting a garden or a landscape, knitting a sweater or sewing a quilt, cooking or redecorating, painting or sculpting, singing or dancing or playing a musical instrument—all these bring our mind, our heart, and our senses together into a harmonious purpose that we experience as satisfaction, peace, and joy.

The benefits of these activities are compounded when they are engaged in with other people. Why? Because all of these things break down our sense of separation to reveal the essential oneness of creation; what in spiritual terms is known as nonduality. When others join us in our creative work, our unity with the hearts, or spirit, of all becomes self-evident, and our greatest division is healed. We have long failed to appreciate the literalness of Jesus’ saying that our greatest need is to love our neighbor as our self.

Mary Oliver was perhaps the greatest American poet of our lifetime, winning both the National Book Award and the Pulitzer Prize. A student of nature, many of her poems direct our attention to how natural world points us, in its many forms, if we will look and listen, to our true nature and destiny. As she tells us in one of her most popular poems, Wild Geese, “the world offers itself to your imagination … over and over announcing your place in the family of things.”

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting –
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.