Wednesday, September 30, 2015

No Soul for Westerners

An Exploration of the Buddhist Concept of Anatta

Modern Western culture is rooted in beliefs about jealous gods, personal saviors, souls that survive death and the implicit primacy of the individual over the group. Without the self, we’re lost. Unlike in Christianity and much of the conceptual and philosophical basis of Western society, Buddhism teaches that there is no such thing as an individual soul. For a long time I had an intuitive feeling that the doctrine of anatta (no self or no soul) was ‘correct’ (whatever that might mean), and when I became an official, card-carrying Buddhist I set about trying to understand the concept by reading various ancient and modern scriptures and commentaries.

The direct impetus for writing this piece was a MOOC in parapsychological research and theory I took in 2015. On the one hand presentations in the course supported, for example, the reality of extranormal powers gained by assiduous training in modalities like yoga or meditation, while on the other hand the theoretical framework of parapsychology implicitly takes as a fundamental unit the self or, more esoterically stated, the soul. In Buddhist training, meanwhile, extranormal powers are acknowledged to be a byproduct of a meditative practice also held to reveal insight into anatta or no soul. The subtle but important difference between these theoretical models can be illustrated by the following rhetorical question: How can you have a good ghost story if there’s no Uncle Freddy to haunt the house until the secret location of the lost will is revealed?

As a final project for the MOOC I proposed to explore the concept of anatta and its implications for parapsychology; that work is what I present here. I did not present it in the context of the course because in the end I felt my discussion was bit more personal and spiritual than I felt was appropriate for an international scholarly audience. However, if you are someone steeped in Western cultural and social tradition who is curious about how this whole no soul thing works, especially with respect to the afterlife, reincarnation and the paranormal, this blog post is for you!

Although I have a fairly extensive background in comparative religion and Western esotericism, it’s not until recently that a garden-variety Caucasian American like me could get access to not only fairly good translations of Buddhist teachings but also the institutional framework (sangha) that makes it possible to bring such teachings into one’s life. Lawrence Sutin’s All Is Change: the 2000 year journey of Buddhism to the West makes for fascinating reading on the many ways in which Western understandings of Buddhist concepts have been shaped to fit various Western political, religious and sociocultural agendas. He writes:

“There have been many obstacles to the understanding of Buddhism in the West – language, geographical distance, religious and cultural differences, colonial and postcolonial politics.”

The concept of no self is a particularly difficult one for people raised to believe in individual identity and personal soul. This is reflected specifically in how concepts like karma and reincarnation are interpreted in the West, an issue I will return to below.

Main Flavors of Buddhism
·         Theravada
·         Mahayana (including Zen)
·         Tibetan (aka Vajrayan)

Buddhism has been around for about 2500 years and comes in many different flavors. All Buddhist lineages are rooted in India, but probably the most well-known in the West are Tibetan and Zen Buddhism. Tibetan Buddhism is heavily influenced by pre-Buddhist shamanic culture and, needless to say, the unique historical and social circumstances of the Tibetan diaspora. Zen is a subset of Mahayana Buddhism that came out of China. It has two flavors: Soto and Rinzai. My sangha (think church or congregation) is Soto Zen and was founded by a British woman, Reverend Master (RM) Jiyu-Kennett. An extraordinary trail blazer, she undertook rigorous training at temples in Malaysia and Japan before founding the Order of Buddhist Contemplatives (OBC) in the United States. Much of the material I draw upon here comes from RM Jiyu or her students. I feel I can rely on this information because from what I have seen I respect the integrity and sincerity of training in the OBC sangha.

While aspects of Buddhist practice like mindfulness have been exported to the West as self help techniques stripped of any cultural or spiritual context, the concept of anatta is central to Buddhism. It’s an experience that those who train in Buddhism will, after a while, experience as a truth about reality. Formally, anatta means that:
  • neither within the  bodily and mental phenomena of existence nor outside of them can be found anything that in the ultimate sense could be regarded as a self-existing, real ego-identity, soul or other abiding substance; or that
  • while there is continuity (after death), but there is no special entity (that continues)

In order to get from here to there, however, we have to first understand how our sense of self works. Where do we come from? According to Buddhist understanding, our sense of a unitary self arises from the operation of [drumroll]  . . .

The Five Skandhas
·         Form
·         Sensation
·         Perception
·         Mental Formations
·         Consciousness

Skandhas offer an alternative schema for organizing the concept of the self, versus relying on Western notions like the big five personality traits and the five senses in psychology and physiology. Skandha translates as aggregate, heap or bundle; it refers to categories of perceptual events which we tend to cling to and identify with, as in you are conscious, you are thinking your thoughts, you perceive some things and feel others, and all this is somehow taking place in your very own mind in your very own body.

The difficulty for a Westerner in applying these categories is that it’s not at all obvious how skandhas are psychophysical processes apart from ourselves in addition to being, in fact, fundamentally impermanent. The Buddhist explanation for this is the observation that we cling onto our perceptions and thereby make them more real than they would otherwise be. Meditation can clear away some of these cobwebs of delusion. Theravadan nun Sister Khema offers an example of how during meditation the functioning of the skandhas may be unraveled:

“But if meditation has any benefit and success, it must show that first of all there is mind and there is body. There isn’t one single thing acting in accord all the time. There is mind which is thinking and making the body act. Now that is the first step in knowing oneself a little clearer. And then we can note, “This is a feeling” and “I am giving this feeling a name” which means memory and perception. “This is the thought I am having about this feeling. The feeling has come about because of the mind-consciousness has connected with the feeling that has arisen.” This illustrates how in meditation one becomes aware of the different skandhas operating.”

Skandhas are not problematic in themselves; they are a variety of sub processes that more or less come together at birth and separate at death. The self and identity exist due to our clinging to skandhas, but there is nothing fundamentally real or permanent about either; it is continually being brought into being and dissolving. Ideally, the concept of anatta should not be understood as annihilation of the self but in terms of the ability to perceive the self we identify with as a creation in (non-teleological) progress.

Even if that’s the case, what’s so bad about identifying with the experiences of the skandhas? The problem is that our experiences of identity are unreal and impermanent; worse yet, our attachment to them is why we suffer and cause suffering. Buddhism calls these three facets of reality or “Marks of Human Existence” anatta (no self), anicca (impermanence) and dukkha (suffering).

If our experience of identity and selfhood during life is due to a delusion based on clinging to the experiences of impermanent skandhas, what is the self or soul after death? RM Jiyu's understanding of Buddhism led her to teach that the self is an impermanent combination of several components. One component is personal (ego, sense of self, body image) and does not survive death. Another is Buddha Nature and, while it survives death, does not do so on a personal or individual level. A final part of the living person is their karma, that is, spiritual force set in motion by volitional action.

Ontological Components of Human Being
·         Personal identity
·         Buddha Nature
·         Karma

We have already talked about how the self is a delusion caused when we identify with or cling to the routine operation of the skandhas; let us now consider what Buddha Nature might be.

Rather than being a god entity identifiable in terms of a culturally articulated location in a social hierarchy, Buddha Nature is an ontological state that can be accessed or at least approached through meditation and contemplation practices. Training that results in understanding that you create your perceptions yet not are the creation of your perceptions, or becoming aware of your awareness versus your personality, are pointers to the realization of Buddha Nature. Those who may be impatient with meditation will still come to understand, by aging, that while memories come and go, awareness is self-sustaining.

A verbal expression of the experience of Buddha Nature is “I create the perception, but not what is aware of the perception.” Perception is human and temporary; awareness of the perception is Buddha Nature. In 1938 J.W. Dunne, famous for writing about dreams and completely ignorant of Buddhism, advanced a rather curious mathematical proof of awareness of consciousness which I encourage people to look more at: “We are self-conscious creatures aware of something which we are able to regard as other than ourselves.” (The Serial Universe)  What I find interesting about his work (which I can barely follow, but seems logical as far as I can follow it) is the idea that self-awareness and other awareness are both complicit in the human experience of being. But I digress.

What about Karma? Karma is a concept that seems to fit in nicely with certain Western moral tendencies and as such is perhaps the easiest for Westerners to think they understand. Forget all that. Karma is the force set in motion by any volitional (willed or intended) action, good or bad. Good volitional action or positive karma (based on compassion or non-deluded understanding) gets reabsorbed into Buddha Nature and causes no further karmic ripples. Bad volitional action (based on delusion, hatred or desire) creates negative karma which will continue after a being’s death and result in the birth of a new being or beings.

To summarize, what Westerners think of as a unitary, transcendent individual identity, Buddhism breaks down into 1) a delusion of permanent personal identity, 2) the transcendence of the Buddha Nature component of identity, and 3) the continuing consequences of volitional action, almost as if they could be mapped as vector forces.

In The Book of Life, RM Jiyu gives her own explanation of what might survive after the death of a being:

“Nor is just one being likely to result from the death of a previous being. An unconverted carnal lust may be reborn in an animal form. An unresolved confusion at the time of death may be reborn in a muddle-headed human. A secret and hidden evil act may cause the birth of a fixed or wandering ghost, just to give a few examples. Thus, the death of one human could result in the rebirth of an animal, a human and a ghost all out of the unpurified karma of that human’s karmic stream.”

Not believing in personal soul, Buddhism also does not hold with reincarnation as popularly conceptualized in the West. From Zen is Eternal Life:

“The Buddhist doctrine of rebirth should be distinguished from the theory of reincarnation, or that of transmigration, for Buddhism denies the existence of an unchanging or eternal soul. The forms of man or animal are merely the temporary manifestations of the life force that is common to all.”

Initially I was surprised to learn that Buddhists don’t believe in reincarnation, and worked on the problem long enough to distill my understanding into a tweet: ‘Put in a body once a life/Reborn with every passing thought.’

On the other hand, memories of past lives pop up in meditation and unusual dreams; they are even reported in research. What’s up with that? When I asked the head monk at my temple, he said it’s as if karma tends to collect in clumps that float around together until a suitable being is ready for birth and then latches on to it. It made me think of the stories you hear about the big floating garbage area somewhere out on the Pacific, but he may have been thinking of a story our teacher RM Jiyu told:

“Imagine you have a bag in which you’ve brought home some fish. You eat the fish, but you carry the bag around and it still smells of fish … We all carry the impregnations of past lives, but they’ve got nothing to do with us.”

 (Rev. Master Jiyu-Kennett, quoted in Meetings with Remarkable Women (Lenore Friedman, 2000) pp 191-192)

Karma is about volitional action. There always choices. They’re not always the ones you want.


In part two, I’ll discuss implications for parapsychology and put in references.

Monday, September 28, 2015

Bloodline of the Gods Review, Part the Last

I know I said I was going to review Nick Redfern's Bloodline of the Gods book here.  If you check the blog archive, you'll see that I set out on that quest.

Alas, almost as soon as I held the book in my hand I realized it was drivel.  About the same time, I got a library book about the history of the discovery of the Rh blood factor that was quite interesting.  No temporal combination of experiences has ever so undermined my interest in the field of paranormal commentary as much.

Redfern had a certain street cred for me;  I've read books he's written that weren't insane and wielded enough logic to make my suspension of belief regarding the topics he discussed unproblematic.  He's been an articulate, rational, clear-thinking and open-minded participant on many podcasts I've listened to.

Bloodline of the Gods was, however, unmitigated bullshit.  I felt unclean for even buying it.  I guess it comes down to feeling betrayed by the Nick Redfern brand.  I can't believe I paid almost ten dollars for this collection of recycled internet garbage; worse still, I can no longer trust one of the few people I thought I could rely on to provide thoughtful, well-considered, well-researched paranormal content.

I've tolerated the necessity of sorting through plenty of bullshit with regards to the paranormal or UFOs.  To see someone like Redfern, who usually comes down on the side of at least minimal research and then drawing plausible conclusions, jump the shark so dramatically as he did in Bloodline is pretty much the final straw.  I wish I could go all Tyler Kokjohn (who recently did a serious review of David Jacob's new book) or Jason Colavito and put together a really cogent review of why Bloodline is such incredible bullshit, but frankly working out or petting my cats is far more interesting.  I am severely disillusioned.  I can't enjoy listening to the usual paranormal bullshit anymore.  Maybe that's healthy?

Bloodline was sort of a watershed experience for me.  Not only was it a disappointment in itself, it poisoned the whole paranormal topic for me. It exemplified so many of the dodges that make paranormal "research" bullshit.  The entire reference section consists of URLs?  Bad sign.  Absolutely NO discussion of actual blood science about a major and well-documented discovery?  Indicates the author is out to pander.  No discussion or consideration of other science, either established or cutting edge, that may have to do with the topic (e.g., genetic sciences)?  I get better stuff in my Twitter feed.  Reliance on established bullshit artists like Sitchin  and conflating mythology with reality like the Bible?  I can't be the only one with a BA in liberal arts here.  No critical discussion of anything whatsoever; just a weakly stitched narrative that, who knows, might in a century become the basis for a whole new witch hunt.  Because Rh negative or whatevs.

Forbidden science ho!






Monday, September 14, 2015

Stopping at Peiku Mountain

Stopping at Peiku Mountain
Wang Wan

(from Poems of the Masters: China's Classic Anthology of T'ang and Sung Dynasty Verse, translated by Red Pine (Bill Porter); Copper Canyon Press, 2003, pp 104-105)

My route goes past blue peaks
where riverboats ply green water
the current is smooth the shores are wide
the wind is perfect for hoisting a sail
the ocean sun rises in the traces of night
the river spring starts inside the old year
how shall I sent a letter home
tied to a goose bound for Loyang


From Red Pine's helpful comments on this poem:

Wang Wan (ca. 690-740) never held high office but was known for poetry even as a youth.  The title of the poem designates a transportation hub where spring starts so much earlier it reminds the poet how far away from home he is.   "During the Han dynasty, an emperor once shot a goose and found, tied to its foot, a letter written by an official being held against his will by the Huns.  Wild geese have been used ever since as the mail carriers of the hopelessly separated." (p. 104)

Twiku 001

Keep sending your letters
I'll keep recycling them unopened Training for both of us See you in a kalpa or two when winds are better

A Twiku or Twitter Haiku is any 140 character or less thing sounding like English translations of Chinese, Japanese, Indian, Buddhist or any other Asian form of poetry.

Sunday, September 13, 2015

As Good As It Gets (A Ghost Story)

Sunday morning we were in the park as usual to practice martial arts.  It was a hot day, so we searched out a patch of shade.  One of us stepped in some dog poop on the way and tracked it around a bit before discovering it on her shoe.  She retreated to clean off her shoe and we went on with practice.  However, our drills kept drifting toward where the poop had been tracked on the pavement.  I took one of my extra sticks – we were doing Filipino martial arts, with rattan sticks – and set it just outside the poopy patch area as a marker.  If someone didn’t see the poopy patch before stepping into it, they’d at least stumble on the stick and know to stop.  Then we moved 15 feet away to another good patch of shade.

She of the poopy shoe was in the sun on the other side of the basketball court, a good 40 feet away, wiping her shoes in the grass.  The rest of us were about to start back in on the partner drill we had just been doing when I realized that the stick I had set down to mark the patch of poo five yards away was now directly behind my partner; he would likely stumble on it if he stepped back.

“Wait a second!” I said, puzzled.  “How did that get there?”  He glanced back at it.  “It must have rolled over from where you set it down.”  “That makes sense,” I agreed, “but I think it was ghosts.”  “Well, that would be logical,” he conceded as I picked the stick up and moved it out of the way.

I was only half unserious.  While rolling was the obvious explanation, the change in position occurred a mite too quickly for it to be a satisfactory explanation.  Also, the terminal position of the stick seemed a bit off .  If something rolls you expect it to finish in a position parallel to the one it began in, etc. etc. – something was wrong about everything.

Fortunately, I can test how sticks roll on that bit of pavement next Sunday.


Tuesday, September 8, 2015

Blood Relatives: Friends and Aliens

Zimmerman’s 1973 Rh turns out to be an exciting read.  In the first 50 pages he introduces a whole host of mad scientists and a perplexing medical mystery.  I want to outline a few of these characters, but first this, from the other side of science (i.e., teh interwebz):

People with Rh-negative blood group have certain characteristics that seem to be common among the majority. Here is a brief list of the most common.

¨ Extra vertebra.
¨ Higher than average IQ
¨ More sensitive vision and other senses.
¨ Lower body temperature
¨ Higher blood pressure
¨ Increased occurrence of psychic/intuitive abilities
¨ Predominantly blue, green, or Hazel eyes
¨ Red or reddish hair
¨ Has increased sensitivity to heat and sunlight
¨ Cannot be cloned
¨ Alien Abduction and other unexplained phenomenon

(from the thread’s original poster at http://www.unexplained-mysteries.com/forum/index.php?showtopic=179790; emphasis added. I recommend reading the entire thread if you have the leisure to do so.)

I don’t know where these criteria come from, but I suspect it is not from the medical literature.  One of the most perplexing items on the list for me is “Cannot be cloned.” Some of the other stuff is almost understandable, at least as cultural tropes like alien abduction or racially inflected stereotypes like ‘psychic’ Celts (versus, e.g., ‘superstitious’ African Americans – same idea, different value tones).  “Cannot be cloned” is not just out of left field; it’s several blocks down the street from the ball park.

After some more poking around on teh interwebz, I found a more reality-oriented Rh negative registry page that mentioned cloning.  In discussing reasons why an Rh negative person might want to participate in a registry of people with similar blood types, it was pointed out that Rh negative blood couldn’t be produced by artificial means like cloning.  That page is currently down (looks like someone didn’t pay their hosting bill?); I don’t know where they got their information, but this is definitely a clue to where the “Cannot be cloned” criteria comes from.

Coming at it from the other end of time, as of page 52 in Zimmerman, I’m just up to about the 1950s where medical researchers have discovered they can safely produce supplies of the life-saving anti-Rh negative serum by injecting Rh positive blood cells into Rh negative men.

If “Cannot be cloned” is WAY on the other side of science, Nick Redfern’s subchapter “When a Mother Attempts to Kill Her Baby” (Bloodline of the Gods, p. 19) turns out, unexpectedly, to dance almost up to the dividing line.  Redfern’s discussion is, with all due respect, hysterically-toned bullshit.  However, reading through Zimmerman’s history of the discovery of the Rh factor, it appears that there may be one heart-wrenching story of a mother “poisoning” her child via breast milk that contributed to the discovery of the Rh factor.

The mother in question was one of the cast of mad scientists I mentioned above, a certain Dr. Ruth Darrow.  Dr. Darrow was a woman born in 1895 who became an MD in 1930.  She lost a baby boy to what thanks to her work later came to be understood as Rh hemolytic disease.  To make the loss worse, her son had survived birth and initial transfusions (then a new medical technique) and seemed to be doing well.  Dr. Darrow had the choice to start feeding him with some of the new-fangled prepared baby formula or use her own breast milk; she was conservative and chose the latter.  Her son died a few days later.  Zimmerman’s interviews with Dr. Darrow's surviving children indicated that the doctor felt like she was responsible for her son’s death, as if she had maybe poisoned him with her own milk.

Dr. Darrow became a monomaniacal scientist with a determined research agenda. For one thing, she still wanted another kid, but wasn’t about to give birth until she had solved the medical problem she faced – and her clock was ticking.   In the end, she all but perfected an understanding of the disease process behind what was then considered to be four separate syndromes occurring at different points of time for newborns: erythroblastosis, hydrops, icterus and congenital anemia.  But, as Zimmerman points out, this was about as right as Dr. Darrow would ever get.  She had the theory down, but in her further research chose to focus on the wrong blood biology mechanism.  The full understanding of the Rh factor and its clinical importance would emerge across many labs, scientists and publications.  And yet today it’s something we take for granted and ascribe to aliens.

But then, a woman MD in 1930 was pretty fucking alien - unlike still births, which happened so often they were obviously natural!  Another alien was Dr. Landsteiner, the apostate Jew who emigrated to the US from Europe and in his research sought out a new, more pure and scientific basis for social identity based on biology and blood type and along the way happened to get a Nobel Prize for discovering ABO blood types, lay the groundwork for saving millions of lives and yet still apparently manage to remain a tortured, vain, maladjusted misanthropic asshole his whole life.

I'll leave you with this:

"Landsteiner had dropped his blood research in 1901, after publishing his ABO discoveries.  But in the United States, twenty years later, he returned to the red cell - with a new an unusual purpose.  He was, perhaps, prompted by a refugee's sense fo alienation and deracination.   (Footnote: He had already repudiated his Jewish identity, by converting to Catholicism.  Later Landsteiner sued the editor of a Jewish Who's Who who planned to list him in it, saying, according to news accounts of his legal deposition, that he would "be greatly distressed and humiliated and exposed to ridicule and contempt" if identified as a Jew.  To be so designated, he added, would be "highly detrimental to my American mode of living and my family.")  He conceived the idea that a new system of human identity could be forged in the laboratory - where he was Master - on the basis of individual differences in the antigens that occur on red blood cells."

Aliens.  Aliens?  Aliens!


Sunday, September 6, 2015

Sisters, Not Sisters, and Training

As I get older, I understand how important it is to avoid, as much as possible, filling one’s life with people who are negative influences.  I wish I had learned this lesson earlier, particularly because it was a very difficult and painful lesson to learn.  At the same time, I believe it’s critical to accept and learn from the people who cause you distress in your life, so this is a topic I feel really mealy-mouthed about.  In my case, the story is about my sisters, although even to think speaking those words together makes my mouth feel strange.

Life had proceeded apace.  I was at an aikido seminar, standing on the mat in a large sword class - a gymnasium filled with more than a hundred people spaced about a katana and a half from each other—practicing iaido forms.  (Iaido is the Japanese art of drawing a blade and striking your opponent in one move.)  I remember starting to execute a movement, tumblers clicking into place in my mind, and realizing I would never see my two sisters again.

It was one of those moments where time comes crashing down about your ears and shakes the earth beneath your feet; a real gut blow.  While I concentrated on maintaining the correct angle for a strike, some circuit had inadvertently connected in my mind and suddenly things seemed quite clear.  I didn’t have the ability to visit my sisters, and they simply didn’t care enough to visit or me.  The truth of our relationships hit me in full force and I struggled through the rest of the sword class with tears streaming down my face for no reason I understood.

It’s funny how over so many years you can create a compelling fiction about the connections you have with other people, only to have it dissolve in one flash of insight.  In the 90s there was a popular self-help book called “He’s just not that into you” written for people who were a little bit dim or deluded out on the dating scene.  It actually wasn’t that bad, as I recall; it was the 90s version of a dope-slap from your friends and, if you didn’t have actual friends, the bookshelves at your local Barnes and Noble.  It’s one of the cultural influences that made me start focusing on what people do rather than what they say.

When my mother suddenly died, my academic career all but ended.  My husband had long since checked out of our marriage.  I was severely depressed and called my sisters for help (it had been an isolating relationship and there was no one else to call).   One of them said I shouldn’t worry, since my husband hadn’t tried to murder me (hers had). The other said that it was probably my fault my husband left in the first place, and if I really cared about him I would fight the other woman to win him back.  She added that she really liked my husband and if we divorced would prefer to remain friends with him.

That was the first go-round.  The final good byes came a couple years later.  I had a pattern of making sentimental, drunk calls to one or the other sister every three or four months.  During one of these calls, I told one of the sisters I loved her (at which time I truly did).  Of course, she responded, “I love you, too,” which is what a well-brought-up person does.  As soon as I hung up I realized that I had extorted that statement from her in my drunken haze.   In fact, the sister in question is quite narcissistic; if there are people she cares about, it’s quite clear from her actions that I am not one of them.  Which is fine, because when the veil fell from my eyes I discovered the person I had worshiped and loved unconditionally didn’t exist.

Another time when I was in a situation I had reason to believe was seriously life-threatening I reached out to the other sister.  I had already exhausted all other sources, so this was, in my mind, a final plea.  I emailed her saying I was going through a really hard time and could use some help.  She emailed me back saying she really didn’t have any money to give me.  That was a bit of bizarre, since I hadn’t made any mention of money and wasn’t talking about financial stuff at all.  What I was concerned about was making a human connection so I wouldn’t go suicidal again, which I had done in the past and which hole I had been digging myself, alone and fairly successfully, out of.  I emailed said sister back to point out that I hadn’t asked for money; what I needed was emotional support – someone to talk to.

Her response was that she was not an emotional person and could not provide that kind of support.  I found her response shocking; how cold is that?   Today, I would wonder if she suffers from Asperger’s or psychopathy.  At any rate, that was my KTHXBAI family moment.  I was in serious, life-threatening crisis, worried about falling down into the same black hole I had visited before, but at least this time I could discern friends from enemies.   In a survival situation, you have to make rapid, strategic choices; things are crystal clear.  Attachments to my remaining biological family had been based in delusion.

I sent emails to both sisters bidding them farewell and wishing them the best.  In subsequent days, weeks, months and years I discussed my decision with actual friends and fellow Buddhists to make sure my actions were not misguided.  For a very long time I had to sit with the ideas of betrayal and abandonment that these emotions provoked in me.  I’ve chosen to try to be as open, accepting and compassionate towards others as I can manage, even when my personal feelings might be hurt.  Probably it helps that I train in martial arts and Buddhism and am dedicated to striving to handle all strikes that land on me with what Buddhists call skillful means (showing compassion even in difficult situations).   I have learned that my problems are much less than what others face in their daily lives, and I will always strive to be there for anyone who needs help.

“Heaven is where you are standing, and that is the place to train.”

Rebecca


The Rh Factor and James D. Watson On Science

In my quest to explore the deeper meaning behind Nick Redfern’s Bloodlines of the God about the Rh factor as it relates to paranormal lore, I obtained a copy of David R. Zimmerman’s 1973 book Rh: The Intimate History of a Disease and Its Conquest from my local public library.   If you like biological science, discovery, and history (the book was published in 1973) this book is great bedside reading.

None other than James D. Watson, one of the people who got credit* for discovering the helical molecular structure of DNA, wrote the forward.  Given the many nonsense claims made about science by members of the paranormal and ufological communities, I found the nature of his introductory comments quite interesting.

If you listen to what people in the paranormal community say about science, scientists are rigid, unimaginative people who routinely hide interesting results for fear of rocking some hypothetical boat that keeps their allegedly high-status lifesyle afloat.  There are, of course, people like that out there; some of them have formal degrees and work in the sciences, while others have found the paranormal a more congenial field in which to ply their wares.

What scientists actually do to achieve all their sciencey magic is always a bit of a mystery, since science is inevitably a social practice and hence imperfectly objective.  That’s a good thing, since it’s given generations of people who study the sociology of science something interesting to think about while they’re on shift at the local discount drugstore.  It also underlines a bigger issue, which is that doing science is not all that goes into doing science.  Watson:
“Most of the active hours of scientists are holding actions, waiting for the day when the reading of a newly arrived journal or book, or a chance conversation with someone down the hall, leads to a new way of thinking.  And success in large part goes to those whose thoughts, both rational and irrational, are dominated by the importance of the final objective, even to the point of seeming one-sided, if not totally unbalanced.
“And when a real idea does suddenly appear, its genesis is sometimes not that clear – often it emerges from a tortuous series of half-truths that are quickly forgotten when the whole is in.  Yet these partial truths may have been very vital to the whole process.  Only by their possession could morale have been maintained toward a goal that all too often seems conquerable by only a brain more high-powered than your own.”
James D. Watson, PhD, pp xvii-xviii in David R. Zimmerman’s Rh: The Intimate History of a Disease and Its Conquest (Macmillan, New York: 1973)

What I find interesting about this quote is how it selectively, guardedly yet explicitly embraces the irrational and/or unknown as part of the process of scientific discovery.   Watson gives as examples serendipitous encounters, perseveration, gut instincts and power plays.  He does not explain when, why or how such inputs function; the 1962 Nobel Prize winner simply acknowledges that they exist.

That’s a big step, in my view, for someone of his generation and stature to take.  His “chance conversation with someone down the hall” could be a tacit acknowledgement of Rosalind Franklin’s contribution to our understanding of the double helix structure of DNA during their competitive race to publication.  Alternatively, his comments could also be read as being about the magic of the creative process generally.

To me, what this quote points (somewhat obliquely) to is the spirit of creative, no-holds-barred enquiry that drew me to both science and what today is called the paranormal.   On the one hand, there’s a sense of wonder; on the other, there’s the sense that we somehow possess the tools to find out what’s really real about reality.  The tools may be flawed and we may be flawed, but the to me it’s still one of the most exciting shows in town, whatever tent it’s playing under.

* Rosalind Franklin was working on the problem of the molecular structure of DNA at the same time as Watson and Crick and was arguably the first discoverer of the double helix.