Go Pokemon, Young Man

There's some famous phrase saying, "Go West, Young Man," which I guess meant that the land of opportunity, at least for white males, was thataways. I'm just mentioning that because we're on the internet now, and anyone younger than me probably doesn't get the outdated styling of this post's title.

In a related vein, I sometimes have dreams which try to convince me they're real. It turns out I'm just as sarcastic and cynical in my dreams as I am in real life, so even when a heavy hitter comes along I usually give things a sneer and then keep my own counsel. It's not that I'm disrespectful of dream life; I have a hard time tolerating bad logic and obvious cons in most of the realms I'm conscious of existing in. That being said, there are things that get automatic bows (a sign of acknowledgment and acceptance) from me, like talking cacti, talking tea-pot like objects that also walk, anything involving snakes, and of course the House, the Lord of the House and certain Thai monks. (And you, if you've rolled by.) But mostly I'm a highly suspicious and skeptical cuss and my dream philosophy is if you can't bring it, go home. There's a reason you're in a dream.

That being said, I had a dream about 15 or 20 years ago, just as the great unwashed masses were discovering the internet and poisoning it for the rest of us. It was one of those dreams claiming to be an alternate reality, only this one claimed to be in the future. A time travel dream. Back then personal websites hosted by something called geocities were common, because the clueless newbies were too dumb to learn about hosting and FTP (remember FTP?) blah blah blah. In the dream, I logged in without any apparent device (back then, think desk top towers and wired connections for contrast) to the location of my dream host, who was a prepubescent boy. Except it wasn't really him, it was what today we would call an avatar of him that did the greeting of visitors and directed them around the site. It was his own website, kind of like an interactive 3D Facebook page but also a fully immersive virtual reality experience.

Then the owner of the webpage inhabited his avatar and started talking to me directly. He explained that I was experiencing where technology would go in the future and that this was in fact a time travel dream. (Never had one before or since. Other planets, yes. Time travel, no.) I was lucid enough to ask him, once that reality feeling started to kick in, what the name of this technology was called. Maybe I could get in on the ground floor and retire to Hawaii like Zachary Fox. The boy said it was called "Gonemon" pronounced Go-noh-mahn.

I looked it up. It wasn't a word. It wasn't even close. There was gnomon, with a silent G, that is the thing in the middle of the sundial that casts the shadow. I tried different languages, but back then I was as yet unfamiliar with dream language and the sneer it has built in. (At least for me. Ya'll might have the Virgin Mary built in, but I came out of the shop with the sneer package. I actually saw a ;) in a pile of alien writing on another planet that someone else who claimed to be real was showing me.  I was like, "Apparently alien writing has evolved at least partly from Earth emoticons, how interesting and do you even have a clue as to what this one means?")

I have not yet done Pokemon Go. The main reason I probably will (from a non-Sue-entity account) is because it sounds, well, interesting and new, vaguely social which I know is good for me, and while it's not the thing I experienced in that dream, it's the first steps toward it. This is going to become bigger, spawn Facebook-like personal internet virtual reality experiences, and take over how people interact with one another via the internet. "Go-noh-mahn" was obviously Pokemon in terms of vowel shapes, with the initial P replaced by a G. I just hope the little brat who welcomed me to his virtual reality of the future wasn't me, because I really want to be a monk in my next life.

You heard it here first.

Casual Thoughts about Buddhism and the Paranormal

I only stumbled into the weird, wacky world of the contemporary Western paranormal because I love ghost stories and am apparently easily led by internet links. In real life, while I have some interest in esoterica and the paranormal, I have way less interest in those areas than I do in, say, deepening my understanding of Buddhist practice. At the same time, I recognize that for some people the necessity for understanding what paranormal thing happened to them or what UFO they saw is as fundamental as is my need for a Buddhist practice. Amidst the swathes of the paranormal world that I view as entertainment, there is that contingent who, insistent with their questioning, exhaustive with their research and/or dedicated to effective communication, make it an intellectually intriguing and rewarding arena for thought.

That’s what I think when I wear my Former Academic hat. Wearing my Buddhist hat, I indulge my longstanding interests in esoterica, etcetera by searching through various Buddhist scriptures for any reference to Others – ghosts, aliens, demons, gods – in search of an (unlikely) answer.

On account of the religious and political institutions of monotheism, in the West we have a long history rigorous dualism. There is one true god and one true church; the rest is evil, Other. The pattern was repeated even after the Enlightenment came and was followed by the Industrial Revolution and then the flourishing of big-S Science. Scientism replaced God, spirituality became superstition, and myth and folklore became epistemological slurs instead of words describing meaningful social competencies. Buddhism, however, comes from the half of the world that didn’t fuss with drawing those particular distinctions and positively bristles with gods, demons, snakes and monsters. (Some of whom, of course, are us.)

So can Buddhists answer questions about the paranormal, UFOs, big feet and more? Can becoming a Buddhist turn you into someone who can get the paranormal answers that no one else has? Such questions come up because it’s known that intensive training (meditation, yoga, qigong etc.) can result in various powers or abilities thought of in the West as supernatural, including chatting with Others. However, Westerners tend not to have the personal discipline to train so intensively or the structure of social institutions that could support such an effort. Moreover, special powers are traditionally held to be mere epiphenomena of training – something of no intrinsic importance that just happens along the Way. While they may seem magical, they can be misused just like love and loyalty, for example. They pose a real question to Science, but as experiences are just another bubble in the boiling pot of water that is a human life.

Yet there’s no doubt that in Buddhism the world is full of Others of various shapes and sorts. Because of the long history of Buddhism and of literacy in China and because I’m writing this in 2016, we have fantastic access to great scholarship and translations from original sources that allow English only speakers like me to understand various sutras (scriptures) and mantras (spells or prayers) in a way that was not previously possible. I don’t mean that we should understand this aspect of Buddhist literature to be empirically descriptive in an ontological sense. But it does reflect the centuries-long heritage of training by Buddhists. When I say that, I am thinking of my martial arts teachers who have trained much longer and harder than me. I have learned to listen to what they tell me; the consequences of not doing so are usually painful.

One traditional Buddhist teaching is that of the six realms a being may find itself born into, according to its karma: humans, animals, hell, gods, hungry ghosts or titans. Another I’ve already mentioned is that superpowers exist and can be obtained, but they're sort of like Kim Kardasian’s butt – fascinating, but not for more than a few minutes.

The Thai Forest Monk Ajahn Mun in the 20^th century regularly talked dharma with devas (some kind of disincarnate or non-human being) during meditation. His biographer, Ajahn Maha Bua, explained that there were terrestrial devas and celestial devas, differentiated by how far above the ground they lived. Reading all this made me wonder about spook lights and UFOs and the story of the Sky-Walkers from The Tower of Myriad Mirrors, a 17^th-century Zen spinoff from a classic of Chinese literature, Journey to the West. Recently I’ve been reading about the Shurangama Sutra, which in part goes into the various delusions one can have even in deep meditation. I’ll just leave you with Monkey in Chapter Three of The Tower of Myriad Mirrors:

Just as [Monkey] jumped up to go search for his master, he heard voices in the sky and quickly looked up to see four or five hundred people swing axes and using chisels to dig holes in the sky.

Monkey thought, “They don't have the look of celestial workers or ominous or evil stars. They are obviously people from earth, but why are they doing this sort of work here? They aren’t monsters disguised as men because I see no evil aura about them. Come to think of it, maybe heaven has grown extra bones and has asked a surgeon to remove them. Or maybe heaven is too old and they are chiseling it away so they can put in a new one. Or maybe heaven has been covered by a screen, and they are removing the false heaven for the real one. Or maybe the Milky Way is flooded and they are channeling away the excess. Or maybe they are rebuilding the Palace of Magic Mists and this is an auspicious day to break ground. Or maybe Heaven likes elaboration and asked people to carve a thousand and ten thousand lines to make a beautiful scene. Or maybe the Jade Emperor is thinking about this world and they are opening an imperial road so he can come down often.

"I wonder If Heaven's blood is red or white. Or If Heaven's skin is one or two layers thick. Or if there will be a heart or not when Heaven’s chest is opened. Or if Heaven's heart is slanted or straight. Or if Heaven is young or old or if it's male or female. Or maybe they want to open Heaven and let Heavens mountains hang down and surpass earth's mountains. Or maybe they are opening the mouth of Heaven to swallow the Underworld. But even if any of these things are true, no one on earth could have such power. I'll just go up and ask them then I'll know for sure."

I love how Monkey – think a Buddhist Wiley Coyote – wildly ratiocinates a la an Andrew Basiago or Grant Cameron while still desperately grasping after the keel of rationality. He comes up with all sorts of unlikely post hoc explanations for selectively chosen data sets in a way that people who follow ufology are all too familiar with. Yet in the end, he seems to rein himself in and decides that he should just find out, instead of speculate.

The Professor and the Abductee

Let me start by issuing a global apology right now. Things happen. This was one. The poem is The Walrus and the Carpenter by Lewis Carroll, which was also put into music by Donovan. But I blame Paratopia.

The sun was shining in the sky

Shining with all his might;

He did his very best to make

The UFOs smooth and bright.

And this was odd, because it was

The middle of the night.

The moon was shining sulkily

Because she thought the sun

Had no respect for UFOs

When all was said and done.

“It’s very rude of him,” she said,

"to say there were no nuns!”

The sea was wet as wet could be,

The sands were dry as dry.

You could not see a USO because

They had forgotten how to fly.

The only things were pelicans

Against an endless sky.

The Professor and the Abductee

Were walking close at hand;

They wept like anything to see

The aliens try to land.

“If they don’t crash those noble ships,”

They said, “it would be grand!”

“If seven researchers with seven slides

Researched it for half a year,

Do you suppose,” the Professor said,

“That they could get it clear?”

“I doubt it,” said the Abductee,

 And wept a bitter tear.

“O Aliens, come and float with us!”

The Professor did beseech.

“A pleasant session, a pleasant regression,

Along this starry slope.

We wish to probe your memory,

And test your telescope.”

The biggest Alien looked at him,

But never a thought it sent.

The biggest Alien winked one eye

And shook its outsized head

Meaning to say it did not choose

To play weird games in bed.

But other Aliens hurried up,

All ready for MPD.

Their eyes were slanted (but that was not at all a racial thing), their faces expressionless,

There shoes were clean and neat –

And this was odd, because, you know,

They hadn’t any visible feet.

Four other Aliens followed them,

And yet another four;

And thick and fast they came at last

All through Disclosure’s doors –

Hopping through the frothy speeches

And scrambling to the fore.

The Professor and the Abductee

Walked on a parsec or so

And then they rested on a famous landing site

Conveniently situated close to a conference hotel;

And all the little Aliens stood

And waited in a row.

“Time is irrelevant,” the Professor said,

And so is history;

We can pretty much make up whatever we want

And call it ufology

Or prove the sea is boiling hot

And aliens have MPD.”

“But wait a bit!” the Aliens cried,

“Before we download our binary code;

For some of us have Rh- blood,

And all of us are ancient!”

“Don’t worry,” said the Abductee.

They thanked her much for that.

“A pair of panties,” the Professor said,

“Is what we chiefly need:

DNA and fluids too

Are very good indeed –

Now if you’re ready, Aliens dear,

We can begin to research.”

“But not on us!” the Aliens cried,

Turning a little grey.

“Regression hypnosis would be

Inadvisable methodologically!”

“The night is fine,” the Professor said.

“Did you see that UFO?

“It was so good of you to share

Your experience with me!”

The Abductee said nothing but

“Will I be in the book?

I wish you were not quite so deaf –

My agent is on the hook.”

“It seems a shame,” the Professor said,

“To play them such a trick.

After we’ve misrepresented them

And falsified their data.”

The Abductee said nothing but

“The truth will come out later.”

“I study you,” the Professor said,

“I deeply telepathize.”

With sobs and tears he sorted out

The ones whose stories fit

Holding his Lam-owl spectacles

Before his dimming eyes.

“Oy, Aliens!” said the Abductee,

“You’ve run the needed tests.

Shall we be shapeshifting back to Zeta then?”

But answer came there none –

And this was scarcely odd because

They’d made up* every one.

*Almost