Buddhas Around Town


Three or four weeks ago, I came out of my morning meditation thinking about the teachings of Krishnamurti. (I read a lot of Krishnamurti when I was in high school, so his teachings have influenced me with varying degrees of subtlety). Two or three days later, I was “spammed” with Krishnamurti’s Daily Thought. Someone, apparently somewhere in Europe, somehow got access to an email list to which I subscribe. As I had just been thinking about Krishnamurti, though, instead of hitting “unsubscribe,” I read the thought for the day. I’ve been reading it since, and I am exploring how much my readings in high school have been part of my foundational thinking.
When I was volunteering at the Lantern yesterday, one of the other volunteers called and reminded me that there were books put aside for me. It is not my habit to put books aside, and I had no recollection of so doing, so I was curious to discover the books were there. One of the two books was a slightly water damaged paperback of Krishnamurti On Right Livelihood. The universal energies are obviously suggesting I examine this early influence. I am contemplating what the following question means for me in today’s current context of multiple wars, a deep recession, and burgeoning environmental degradation:
Is it not necessary for each one to know for himself what is the right means of livelihood? If we are avaricious, envious, seeking power, then our means of livelihood will correspond to our inward demands and so produce a world of competition, ruthlessness, oppression, ultimately ending in war. Krishnamurti, Ojai, July 1944
This vendor was right outside a Siva temple we visited on the day after we went to Rameshwaram. I don’t remember the name of the temple (I was not good about writing down the names of the temples that were added to the itinerary after the fact).
I liked the temple more than many. Partly because it was quiet and peaceful since it is off the pilgrimage path (going to some of the temples reminds me of seeing the Rolling Stones at Wembley Stadium, both for crowds and noise level) and partly because it had all eight versions of Dakshinamurti–Siva as teacher.
I was most ready for dinner after a very long day on the bus to detour to this temple, but alas, the sight of street food brings more fear of disease than it does thoughts of slaking hunger and thirst.
I found the 1934: A New Deal for Artists exhibit at SAAM quite moving. The exhibit was put together for the 75th anniversary of the New Deal; it is merely coincidence that paintings commissioned by the United States government to depict American life in a time of dire conditions happen to be on exhibit at this time. It is a good companion to view along with Robert Frank’s Americans at the NGA West Wing — also on view because of an anniversary, not because of its coincidental timeliness.
The art is not great art, and it is stuck in the period in which it was painted, in part because of the nature of the commission. The depictions of America show any resilience and beauty inextricably intertwined with hardship and struggle. In its very datedness, the art on exhibit raises questions about what are society’s priorities today, how we are responding to the crisis of war, environmental devastation, and economic crisis and how we could enhance and celebrate humanity and the planet rather than continue to decimate the earth and ourselves.
According to the Friends Committee on National Legislation, approximately 43% of your 2008 taxes will pay for war. President Obama’s proposed budget has a smaller increase than previous years, but does not lower in any way military spending. I’d rather my tax dollars were buying art.
A fundamental precept of classical yoga is that of vairagya or renunciation. The yogin is meant to gradually renounce all of the life of mind and body until he or she transcends them and sees only spirit. I have been thinking about how renunciation fits in with the holidays and how we, as a society, have come to celebrate them. As some indulge to excess and all sorts of tinsel trappings, others denounce the excess as taking away from spirit and renounce the whole thing. A reactive renunciation of the holidays wholesale because they are so commercialized can feel just as harsh as full consumption of the holidays, as marketed on TV, can feel bloated and unhealthy.
When we approach yoga from a tantric perspective, the practice is not geared towards vairagya. We seek instead to be fully engaged in life, trying to live each moment, taste each bite, breathe each breath, take each step as a way of connecting more deeply to the spirit. This does not mean reckless indulgence. It does not mean heedlessly consuming and taking into ourselves that which does not nourish ourselves or which harms other beings or the earth. Through practice and study, we develop viveka or discrimination, which informs us of what will enhance our lives and lead us towards a place of light and health.
In the context of the holidays, to make them truly holy days, the tantric observer will not reject holiday celebrations out of hand simply because they have generally become commercialized and often unhealthy. Rather, he or she will discern ways to celebrate and honor earth, family, friends, and self that are in alignment with nature and optimize the connections among them. This may mean picking and choosing how and with whom to celebrate, but always with honor and respect. This is an art that I am working on personally; sometimes it is hard to know where to draw the line, especially if co-workers or family are living in ways that do not feel nourishing for us. Then the game is to not seem Scrooge-like to those who think that the holidays are about lots of heavy food and shopping, while we are choosing to honor the season in another way.