My commonplace book

Some old people are oppressed by the fear of death. In the young there is a justification for this feeling. Young men who have reason to fear that they will be killed in battle may justifiably feel bitter in the thought that they have been cheated of the best things that life has to offer. But in an old man who has known human joys and sorrows, and has achieved what ever work it was in him to do, the fear of death is somewhat abject and ignoble. The best way to overcome it -- so at least it seems to me -- is to make your interests gradually wider and more impersonal, until bit by bit the walls of the ego recede, and your life becomes increasingly merged in the universal life. An individual human existence should be like a river -- small at first, narrowly contained within its banks, and rushing passionately past boulders and over waterfalls. Gradually the river grows wider, the banks recede, the waters flow more quietly, and in the end, without any visible break, they become merged in the sea, and painlessly lose there individuality.

The universe is complex -- really too complex for us to contemplate or interact with it while fully aware of everything that is going on, and how, and why. In order to function within this complex system, we create mental shortcuts, models, and frameworks that section off and simplify pieces of the world we exist in. These models are often as basic as cause and effect rules - if I put this kettle of water on a hot stove, the water will heat up - or they can be more complex and detailed - like scientific Theories.

No matter how detailed or specific these models are, though, what we have to remember is that they are just that - models. Mental shortcuts that help us explain how the universe works and anticipate outcomes. They are not, in fact, how the universe works. When we think or talk about the universe, what we're really talking about is one or more of those mental models, not the universe itself.

One of the most simplistic shortcuts that we make are binaries - good/bad, hot/cold, here/there, inner/outer, etc. With a little thought though, it is easy to see that in a complex system there can functionally be no simple binaries like those, as they all require context. I think this (and the fact that it is easier to memorize and recite) is why scriptures often have lists of "X is not Y, it also isn't not Y" statements. Vīmalakīrtī does this quite a bit. One exception is the start of Chapter 12:

The Tathāgatha does not arise from the four elements and is the same as emptiness. The Tathāgatha is not the aggregation of the six sense faculties, and is beyond the eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind.

Which is to say, the Buddha can't be pinned in to one system - the Tathāgatha is empty of dependent characteristics, i.e., the four elements, which is to say that the Buddha is the same as emptiness.

Additionally, you can't try to understand, usually phrased as 'contemplate', the Buddha by using the typical inputs we normally use to understand the world - eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, or mind. Those senses are not designed to contemplate emptiness.

The Tathāgatha is not a single characteristic, or diverse characteristics, has no notion of self or notion of others, is not free of characteristics or attached to characteristics.

then there are institutions, systems in place that provide answers - but more than that, they disincentivize doubt and questioning.

so why do we believe them? is it just because doubt is tiring? is it because believing in an answer that reinforces our privileged place in the universe is self-serving, and we're all in it for ourselves?

or sometimes is it because we know that doubt - too much doubt at the wrong time - can be destructive. so we cling to answers to stop the slide. if you question, at the bottom of the ditch, why bother to climb out? - and you answer yourself there's no point because the bottom of the ditch and the sides of the ditch are still part of the ditch. well. you're stuck in a ditch.

it can be self-defeating.

the dishwasher is run

only when it's full

each day another few dishes are added to the top rack or bottom

rearranged for efficiency

eventually it's time again (but only at night)

this is how weeks pass

every four days or six

a spill on my favorite sweatshirt means it's time for laundry

did i take a shower yesterday? or was it the day before

we used to tell time with water clocks

the drip drip constant until it reached the mark

now the water comes

whenever it comes

between forgetting, haphazard

days are weeks and months