"Normality" and the need for gratitude

 

Since lockdown began in March, everyone’s been asking when things will get back to normal. This is entirely understandable, as none of us have ever experienced the effects of a pandemic in our lifetime. We’re living through a phase in which some basic freedoms have been curtailed, such as our freedom to associate with as many people as we like when we like, just to pop out to the pub without booking, and to hang out in enclosed spaces without the lurking fear of contagion. What used to be normal now seems like a memory from another era, and there’s even the fear that Christmas will somehow be cancelled.

But, looking at it from a Buddhist point of view, I would challenge the very idea that there is such thing as normal in this sense. The idea of normal implies a kind of consistent and stable state to which things will automatically default when everything gets sorted out. Once the pandemic is over, life will return to exactly what it was. We can be forgiven for holding this view because the post-war generations, at least in our part of the world, have lived through a time of exceptional peace, prosperity and stability, where every generation has consistently been better off than the preceding one. There are many reasons for this, including stable international institutions and scientific progress, but recent economic, health and environmental shocks seem to me to be bringing that trend to an end.

Buddhism teaches that all things arise in dependence upon conditions. Change or remove the conditions, and you change the outcome. This applies to everything from solar systems to societies, empires to ecosystems - and the mounting evidence of the seriousness of the global ecological crisis we’re all in illustrates the point very well. For too long, our species has assumed a degree of separateness from the natural world – that we can insulate ourselves from the effects of our own polluting and destructive behaviour. But it seems increasingly clear from global reports of extreme weather events bringing fire and flood, not to mention the ravaging of biodiversity, that this is not the case.

I think our response to this should be twofold. The first response is a practical one: Firstly, we need to change our individual and collective behaviours to stop wreaking havoc on our fragile planet. But we also need something like a spiritual response, by which I mean we need to recognise our dependence on the intricate web of conditions that is the natural world and cultivate a response of both awe and humility: awe at the breath-taking beauty of our world and humility as we recognise the precariousness of our position. Instead of taking things for granted, which is what the idea of normal implies, I think we need to cultivate gratitude in the light of the amazing natural riches that have given and continue to give us so much.

So let’s stop taking things for granted. Take some time today to reflect on everything the world has given you and be grateful. And let’s do what we can to ensure that future generations will have the same reasons for gratitude as we do.

Coronavirus, hubris and the green shoots

 

As I was out for my precious hour of exercise the other day, I started musing about the nature of the predicament that Coronavirus has cast us into. I couldn’t help reflect on how ironic it was that the most successful and powerful species the planet has ever known has been forced to retreat to the margins of a world it has become used to having absolute mastery over. And by what? Well, by a tiny bundle of DNA scraps, lipids and proteins way too small for the human eye to see. The phrase “The microscopic will inherit the earth” came to mind, with apologies to the gospel according to Matthew!

OK, so it won’t come to that – not this time, anyway – but what I find myself really hoping for is a learning from this situation. A learning for our species, a learning about hubris. One of the core Buddhist teachings is that all things arise in dependence upon conditions. This applies to climate patterns, human societies, economic systems, and the evolution of viruses alike. But we’ve grown used to seeing ourselves as distinct from nature, able to lord over it and bend it to our will without any negative side-effects. In our pursuit of an ever-higher standard of living, ever more stuff, ever more luxury, we’ve lost touch with our true place in the natural order. The consequences of climate change we’ve seen played out in our own county – does anyone remember those hundred-year floods from another world? – and this current health emergency are showing us that we aren’t above the system, that we can’t seal ourselves off from the natural world and expect to get away with it.

So what do I hope for? Well, in some ways I’m seeing the green shoots of that already in the midst of this pandemic. People rediscovering the virtues of and need for community cooperation. Members of my Buddhist community smiling and waving at each other in videoconferences. People standing on their doorsteps and balconies applauding our health workers. People in cities enjoying fresh and sweetly scented air free of traffic fumes and the majesty of the night sky without the constant rumble of jet engines and vapour trails. Birdsong over quiet streets. The other day, I thought I heard a skylark by the river. And a herd of goats has made its home in the vacant streets of Llandudno. In the midst of so much economic and social upheaval, I sense the emergence of a reconnection with society and the natural world, and that has to be good.

Of course, once this is all over, people will get back into cars and planes and there will be an explosion of social interaction; that’s only natural. But I desperately hope his won’t come at the expense of the natural world, that we won’t re-cocoon ourselves in complacency.

Some of you listening will be self-isolating. Some of you will be feeling the stress of being cooped up and the economic pinch. But for those of you who can, listen to the birds and enjoy the fresh, fume-free air. And reach out to people, maybe those you’ve been out of touch with for ages. For those of you who feel isolated, I know that armies of volunteers are trying to get in touch with you. This crisis is bringing out the best of many people, and it’s that which will get us through it with, I hope, some lasting lessons for a better world.

Conceit

 Sunday 1 June 2019

 To say the country is divided at the moment would be something of an understatement! As the whole Brexit saga rolls on endlessly, I’m sure I can speak for many when I say I’ve started groaning inwardly whenever politicians line up to trot out the same lines, especially from the opposite side of the divide from where I find myself. But I’ve also noticed a disturbing impulse in myself, which I’ve never had before, to shout at the people I disagree with when they come on the radio or TV. And I’ve come to see the underlying not-so-subtle view that holding the views I do on the subject makes me somehow superior to the people who disagree with me, as if I occupy the moral and intellectual high ground. It’s so easy, not just to say that I’m right and they’re wrong, but also to dismiss them wholesale as fools or bigots or whatever you will. As well as being an expression of ill-will, it also points to the operation in my mind and heart of conceit.

Buddhism has a great deal to say about conceit. In fact, it’s one of what are known as the five poisons, the others being greed, hatred, spiritual ignorance and distractedness. And poisonous is a good word to describe its effect. But it isn’t just about thinking you’re better than other people. It also comes into play when you think others are better than you, when you do yourself down. In the Buddhist community, I often hear people say they can’t meditate. They’re sure it’s a valuable thing to be able to do, and they recognise that others can do it, it’s just that they can’t. My teacher Sangharakshita, when faced with someone talking like that, is reported to have asked “What’s so special about you then?”, turning the whole thing on its head.

We make snap judgements based on conceit all the time. We see people who are cleverer than us, richer and more successful as well as those who we secretly look down on because of the way they look or speak or the views they hold. Whichever way we go, however, the issue is one of comparison based on difference. And seeing difference serves only to separate and isolate us, which is a bad thing. As the old quotation has it, “comparisons are odious”.

Buddhism offers an antidote to this in a meditation called the metta bhavana, in which we set out to cultivate good will to all beings, starting with ourselves and going on to consider a good friend, someone we don’t know well, someone we struggle with and, finally, all beings. This practice can help us truly see people, to recognise that everyone wants the same thing: to be happy and free of suffering - even though we express those wishes in different ways. We stop comparing and start empathising. To recall this whenever the urge to compare arises can help free us of ill-will. I need to work harder at this in these times of division and I’d encourage you to do the same. Whenever you find your blood boiling at what someone else says or start doing yourself down, stop, take a breath and wish yourself or the other person well instead. I know from experience that it’s a transformative practice – why not try it out for yourself?