Quest Magazine

Printed in the Winter 2014 issue of Quest magazine. Citation: Smoley, Richard. "From the Editor's Desk" Quest 102. 4 (Winter 2014): pg. 2.

The goal of Christianity, by contrast, has generally been salvation. Salvation does not confer, or pretend to confer, any special advantages in this life: it does not in and of itself make you wiser or more illumined. Rather it is a kind of guarantee for deliverance in the afterlife. With it, you go to heaven; without it, you go to hell. 

Little by little, the Christian goal of salvation has been losing its hold on the Western imagination, if only because of the logical contradiction of an infinitely merciful God condemning a soul to eternal damnation for the offenses of a few decades on earth. Moreover, the birth of modern psychology in the nineteenth century aroused interest in higher states of cognition that bypassed conventional religion, as we see in William James's Varieties of Religious Experience. 

Today, over a hundred years after James, enlightenment has become a buzzword and something of a gimmick. Years ago, in a New Age throwaway in San Francisco, I remember seeing an ad for a group of people that were planning to shoot for full enlightenment one weekend. I wonder how far they got. 

A number of books have explored these topics: the more memorable ones include Georg Feuerstein's Holy Madness and The Mother of God by Luna Tarlo, a woman's account of her experience with an abusive guru who happened to be her own son. (You would think that an enlightened master would have more sense than to take on his mother as a pupil.) But the problem persists. Recently I was on "Mind Shift," a Web talk show with Jay Michaelson, author of Evolving Dharma: Meditation, Buddhism, and the Next Generation of Enlightenment. Jay remarked that there were abusive Zen masters who even had certificates of enlightenment from their lineages. (I don't know what a certificate of enlightenment would look like, but I would love to have one.) 

What's going on here? Enlightened beings might be expected to behave at least somewhat better than ordinary mortals, but they often seem to act worse. Arethey like Nietzsche's superman, who has transcended good and evil so that moral categories no longer apply? 

Recently I was discussing this topic with my good friend John Cianciosi, who lived for over twenty-three years as a Buddhist monk and is now director of programming at Olcott. (John's article "Calm and Clear: Samatha and Vipassana Meditation" appears in this issue.) I asked him what enlightenment meant in Buddhist thought. He replied that according to the traditional scriptures, an enlightened being is one in whom the Three Poisons—desire, anger, and delusion—have been completely eradicated. 

This casts some light on the situation. Many times enlightenment is portrayed as a kind of sudden cognitive awakening. But it has to be more than that. After all, as James showed, cognitive awakening is relatively common. While it usually transforms those who experience it, it does not bestow utter omniscience or benevolence upon them, nor does it free them from the Three Poisons. As often as not, the experience comes at the start of the spiritual path, and the individual has to go through a long process of discipline and purification in order to anchor it in his being 

Thus enlightenment, rather than being something that a bunch of wide-eyed aspirants can attain over a weekend or something that occurs in a blinding flash of cognitive light, is extraordinarily rare. Certainly I have never met anyone who was even close to being enlightened in this sense, and while there are accounts of enlightened ones in recent times, they are far removed from us and sometimes semilegendary. 

We could draw two conclusions from all this. We could decide that enlightenment is simply a myth—an illusory carrot dangled in front of the aspirant's nose. Or we can assume that it does exist; it's just very rare. I prefer the second option myself, if only because it jibes with my own intuition that it is the task of human beings to experience the full range of possibilitieson this physical plane. If you can think of it, someone somewhere has tried it (and done it, if it's feasible within the limits of physical possibilities). History gives us evidence of the grossest acts of cruelty and the sublimest acts of wisdom and compassion. Human potential may not be boundless, but it is effectively so. People are capable of anything—probably even enlightenment. 

VOLUME 102, NUMBER 1

CONTENTS

Calm and Clear: Samatha and Vipassana Meditation
John Cianciosi

Milarepa: From Sinner to Saint
Cynthia Overweg

The Morality of Meditation
David DeSteno

Make a Joyful Noise: How I Learned to Meditate amidst the Mayhem
Arlene Gay Levine

A Serpentine Path
Amy Gardner

From the Editor's Desk
Richard Smoley

Viewpoint: Got Wisdom?
Tim Boyd

President's Diary 

Printed in the Fall 2013 issue of Quest magazine.
Citation: Boyd, Tim. "President's Diary" Quest  101. 4 (Fall 2013): pg. 154-155.

By Tim Boyd

The month of April started with me visiting the TS group in Detroit. This spring trip has become something of a tradition. Probably every year for the past twenty has found me visiting my Detroit TS friends. The Detroit Lodge is one of those exemplary groups that have maintained a stable and fully functional approach to the study of the Ageless Wisdom. Over the years every group has its ups and downs. Some respond well; some give up and close their doors. Detroit has responded very well to deaths of prominent leaders, relocations of people and premises, changing popular tastes, and the day-to-day, week-to-week, year-to-year chemistry of group interaction. 

As most of you know, our Olcott national headquarters is a beautiful campus, with buildings, lawns, pond, and groves of trees. In all it comprises forty-two acres. Mark Roemmich is in charge of the seemingly impossible job of maintaining and beautifying the whole thing. He does an incredible job. This year, on Earth Day, he organized a work party for staff. Everyone who could came out in their work clothes after lunch. Mark formed us into groups, and off we went with rakes, clippers, and shovels in hand to clean up the leaves and debris that had accumulated over our long winter. A couple of weeks earlier we had also experienced the worst episode of flooding in almost three decades. So there were some odd accumulations of tree branches and soil in unusual places that we had to address. Weatherwise, it was a gorgeous day—one of those days when you look out the window and wish you had some good reason to leave your desk and go outside. It was a genuine pleasure to work and talk with fellow staff members in this different setting. Clearly many of them were quite familiar with using a rake and shovel. After the afternoon of sweaty work, I slept quite well that night. 

April also celebrated the first anniversary of our Children's Bedtime Stories. A year before, my wife, Lily, along with Pat Griebeler, Danelys Valcarcel, Lois Pederson, and Dan Smolla, had the idea of developing some programming for kids. They wanted to keep it simple. The parents and students at the Prairie School of DuPage quickly became big supporters. Now, one Friday evening each month, they all gather in our library for music and stories told by some first-rate storytellers. 

In May we had a long-awaited visit from Eboo Patel. Many of you remember him as the moderator for our interreligious panel during the Dalai Lama's visit  in 2011. Eboo is a world-class figure in the interfaith community. He is a young man, a Rhodes scholar, and founder of the Interfaith Youth Core (IFYC), which has blossomed on college campuses across the country. His work has involved young people in addressing religious prejudices not merely by dialogue, but through concerted action. He came to give a Thursday night talk on his latest book, Sacred Ground, which addresses the United States' history of religious inclusion. It was an excellent talk. Unfortunately it was marred by something I had never witnessed before at any Theosophical presentation. During the question and answer period an audience member took the opportunity to attack Eboo's work, Islam, and religion in general. Had that been the full extent of it, it would not have been a problem. Everyone has a right to their opinion. However, this man's agenda was to take over the conversation and use the gathering as a platform for his extended rant. When it became clear that he did not intend to sit down and allow others to speak, he was ushered out of the building and off the grounds. 

May also saw our third annual White Lotus Day Meditation Retreat. Staff members Jim Bosco, Juliana Cesano, Pablo Sender, and I took turns presenting the theory and practice of a variety of forms of meditation.We were also joined by Andrew Vidich, who is a professor,author, and longtime meditation practitioner, and by Meredith Bosco, who led a walking meditation at our labyrinth. 

In June the Order of the Round Table, led by Mark and Kim Roemmich, had their annual pre–Father's Day campout. About thirty parents and children set up their tents on the north side of the building. They had a fire circle, sang songs, played games, roasted marshmallows, told stories, and just generally had a good time. 

A little later in the month we had our farewell celebration for Jeff Gresko. Jeff has been working full-time at Olcott since 1987—twenty-six years. His tenure here is actually even longer than that, because before he settled in full-time, he would work here a while, travel around the world, then come back and work some more. Over the years Jeff has been involved in every aspect of life and work at the headquarters. He has worked on grounds and maintenance, in accounting and housekeeping, in the bookstore and kitchen, and in the audiovisual department. During John Algeo's  administration, although the title had not yet been developed, he functioned as the chief of staff. He is one of those people who will never impress you with his ability to quote the standard Theosophical texts, but whose every action shows a life immersed in love of community and the example of selfless service. The fact that Jeff almost violently resists recognition made our celebration that much more fun for us. He had to sit there and take it. 

Another in our broadening spectrum of children's programs took place in June. "Comforting Your Child with Therapeutic Touch" was presented by Marilyn Johnston. Marilyn is a professor of nursing who trained directly with Dora Kunz in Therapeutic Touch for thirteen years. The method is successful in dealing with pain and discomfort at all levels, but children are particularly responsive. The two-hour session was designed to give parents simple tools to deal with the numerous discomforts and energy imbalances that confront their children. Although the crowd was mostly composed of mothers and their kids, there was also a sprinkling of fathers and grandparents who came for the training.  

One sad event marked the month of June. Karole Kettering, longtime member of the Theosophical Society and wife of our treasurer, Floyd, had a massive stroke and died. My first memories of Karole go back almost forty years, when she and Floyd were the focus for the Young Theosophists group at the time. They were married, and Floyd worked on the Olcott staff. They lived in one of the houses on the grounds. Frequently they would host meetings in their home. Floyd and Karole were a little older than the rest of us and had a way of grounding some of the high-flying idealism and impracticality that were a part of our youthful exuberance. Karole was always full of life and laughter.

About thirty-five years ago Karole started a Christmas food drive for less fortunate families in the area. Over time her efforts evolved into the Humanitarian Service Project, a huge operation spanning two counties that provides food for seniors and families, gifts at Christmas, educational supplies for schoolkids, and other service avenues. 

A memorial service was held for Karole here at Olcott, which filled the auditorium and overflowed into the library and lobby, where the service was also broadcast. She lived a large life and touched countless people. 

As I write this I have just returned from a two pronged event in Brazil. I was the featured speaker at the Brazilian Section's nineteenth annual International School. Then, on the day that I was returning to the U.S., I gave the opening address for the Luso Hispanic Conference, which continued for another three days after I left. The events were attended by around 200 members from Brazil and the rest of Latin America. Both conferences were held at the Instituto Teosficode Bras­lia, which in Portuguese is named Para­so na Terra—"Paradise on Earth." For many years I have heard about the activity of the Brazilian Section and about the center they have developed at the institute. They purchased the land in 1990, and in 1993 they hosted the TS World Congress there. It is truly a visionary project with an array of impressive structures which include lodging, a meeting space that can accommodate 500, dining facilities, and a beautiful Greek-style temple built on the edge of a mountain. The property is about the size of the whole city of Wheaton, where we have our national headquarters. It is an hour drive from the capital city of Bras­lia and is about a mile high. It has natural springs and waterfalls in many places, one of which I swam in during a break from the conference. It was a high-energy gathering. Although language can be something of a barrier, I know just enough Spanish to get into trouble. For those who spoke Portuguese, hand gestures, eye contact, and good intentions seemed to go a long way. I made many new friends. 

At the time of this writing, our Summer National Convention begins in one day. It will be followed directly by the Theosophical Order of Service International Conference.  Already people are starting to gather. This year we will have more than forty visitors from overseas. Once a year old friends and new gather for this event. Christmas is great, but year after year this is my favorite time.

Printed in the Fall 2013 issue of Quest magazine. 
Citation: Smoley, Richard. "From the Editor's Desk" Quest  101. 4 (Fall 2013): pg. 122.

What is it like to be a bat? Bats, as many people know, have a sense that we don't. They are able to bounce sonar—microsound waves—off objects to help them navigate, and they use this to supplement their sense of sight. This is called echolocation. Human beings understand the principle of sonar and use it in many applications: the navy uses it to sound the depths of oceans. But we ourselves don't have a sense of echolocation. Therefore we will never be able to know what it's like to perceive with this sense.

This, in sum, is the argument of a famous article by the philosopher Thomas Nagel. (Its title is the first sentence of this editorial.) Originally published in 1974, it's one of the most influential philosophical articles to have appeared in recent decades. Nagel contends that we can know everything about how the brain works from a neurological point of view—just as we can explain how sonar works—but there is nothing as yet to explain how and why this relates to subjective experience. As one psychologist put it, "The brain resembles the mind about as much as a telephone number resembles its subscriber."

Nagel's argument, now nearly forty years old, has never been refuted. Since then, neurology has explained a great deal of how the brain works, but it has never explained, or come close to explaining, how the mind arises out of the brain. Nor has it told us if the mind can exist independently of it, although materialists tend to blithely assert that it cannot.

In fact at present the field of consciousness studies is faced with two diametrically opposite propositions: (1) the mind is the result of brain functions; (2) the mind is more than the brain and can exist outside of it. Both seem to be true, and both are backed up by substantial evidence. The second proposition, it is true, is based on anecdotal evidence (that is, these experiences are onetime events and are not repeatable in a scientific sense). But at some point enough anecdotal evidence piles up so that it cannot be ignored. Eben Alexander's bestsellingProof of Heaven, in which the author, a neurologist, tells about his experience of other realities while he was in a coma and his higher brain was not functioning, is one of the most recent of many examples. (Eben, by the way, will be a featured speaker at the TS's Summer National Convention in July 2014.)

What does all this show? Theosophy, like most esoteric traditions, sets out several planes of existence. While these don't correlate exactly between the various systems, there is a rough correspondence, and the similarities are usually more striking than the differences. In terms of the mind-brain problem, we could say that the neurological operations of the brain correspond to the physical, or lowest, plane—the only one whose existence science admits. The inner, subjective sense—how a bat, or a human being, experiences the world—could be equated with the astral plane.

Classic Theosophy speaks of a mental plane as well, this being associated with thoughts, while the astral plane is associated with emotions and desires. But in the discussion here I will lump them together under the term "astral plane," partly for the sake of simplicity, partly because it strikes me as extremely hard to posit any radical separation between thoughts and feelings.

In any event, the astral and the physical planes overlap or coincide: an emotion, we're told, corresponds to certain brain responses (in the amygdala, if I remember correctly). But they operate in quite different ways, and apparently by different laws. The neurology of the brain works electrochemically—by a certain sequence of chemical and electrical impulses. Subjectively, however, we do not experience these impulses. Instead we experience the contents of consciousness as a kind of flow—one thought leads to an emotion, the emotion to another thought, and so on. It is no coincidence that one of the most ancient and universal symbols for this astral plane is water. We even acknowledge its liquid nature with such phrases as "stream of consciousness."

This astral level is also likened to the sea. And this points to an extremely important, and often overlooked, aspect of the human condition. We live in this sea like fish, and, perhaps like fish, we are usually unaware of this medium that surrounds us. We do not even differentiate it from ourselves in the deepest sense. We take the ocean of thoughts, emotions, and images that we swim in to be identical to ourselves, to be ourselves.Hence when I am struck by an overpowering emotion, I often fail to step back from it and realize that I am not that emotion.