How many grains make a heap?
in Philosophy ·
piles, space, geometry... this stuff starts at 4
583 posts shown.
Susan Price30 said:True, I know Belkica (Beljki) has shared plenty of interesting posts and topics regarding Buddhism on this forum. 🙂
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Maria Robinson2 said:It’s an interesting song, I suppose—though how much theology is actually involved remains to be seen. I guess that Illuminati eye wasn't drawn there just for the aesthetic, though—if you catch my drift.
I suppose I’d have to re-read all that endless literature just to figure out what you don't identify with—which, naturally, I have no intention of doing. 🙂
Will we just continue to talk past one another? I suppose not—given that we’ve apparently reached the conclusion that suffering isn't exactly a desirable trait—despite that old cliché about how a little hardship helps people find meaning. It’s just... well, it isn't ideal when people start competing over who has it worse—because, let's face it, humans have a tendency to exaggerate everything—and that kind of exaggeration eventually leads to a global scale of misery.
Well, I suppose there isn't much to be done—we can't exactly go around reshaping the entire world, since we aren't exactly holding the levers of power... or anything of that sort.
Maria Robinson2 said:I wasn't aiming that at you or myself either; I just used "for instance" so I wouldn't keep saying "my neighbor" and end up stuttering... 😉
I didn't share that link just so we could enjoy the track; I shared it to ask you the question I posed earlier... because I suspect it's a "philosophy that isn't quite that"... that's how I categorize these things. Instead of pure philosophy, it feels more like reality itself—almost like a silent warning about future suffering, which ties back to our topic here. The song is old, and I've never actually read an interview where they commented on the lyrics, assuming a journalist even bothered to ask.
You know how it goes—musicians don't necessarily need to write out philosophies from spiritual texts; it's enough for them to express it through their music, since that influences the human mind all the same.
Anyway, maybe you get my point now... 🙂
Maria Robinson2 said:Listen, this whole idea that you can easily "see through" people—that’s a story in itself. Plenty of people thought they had me figured out, but they were consistently wrong. 😉
Mysticism? Oh, certainly. It’s very attractive to people. That’s why I prefer to speak plainly and clearly—I'm glad that doesn't bother you.
New Age? Well, that's its own kind of mysticism, I guess... If you're feeling up to explaining this to me...
... could you tell me if the songwriter is for or against it? Or rather, are they issuing a warning, or do they agree?
(I ask because no one has ever bothered to clarify things for me before, but maybe you could.)
Daniel Castillo11 said:Even the Buddhists themselves don't really bother using the term "mysticism," because, when you step back and look at it, the word doesn't actually carry much weight in their framework. It’s a bit like trying to use a specialized tool from a hardware store to fix a problem in a software program; it just isn't the right fit. Sure, you could find a way to make the concept make sense if you force it into a very specific, narrow context, but even then, that's such a minor point that it’s practically irrelevant to the actual practice of Buddhism.
When you consider the nature of mysticism, you might look at something like the Christian doctrine regarding the prayer of union found within the teachings of the saints. It’s a beautiful concept, really—that deep, internal movement toward oneness.
Unless you’re speaking specifically in terms of the transcendence of both the object and the subject—though even then, I find the term "mysticism" to be somewhat of a hollow concept—it doesn't carry much weight. It isn't really used in that particular sense, except perhaps in those more contemporary, comparative academic fantasies where people tend to throw every disparate idea into the same cluttered basket just to see if they stick.It seems to me that the whole concept of a Koan is perfectly tailored to the Western mindset, if you think about it. After all, these ideas originated with the Chinese and the Japanese—whereas, in my view, the practitioners from the East tend toward a more irrational approach to life. We in the West are, at our very core, philosophers and rationalists; we are a people of deep introspection and quiet contemplation.
Not quite. A Koan isn't really designed to establish facts or perform an analysis. While people certainly use them that way, their ultimate purpose is to force you to acknowledge the sheer impotence of pure reason. That’s a bit different from the typical Western mindset, wouldn't you agree? Furthermore, when you look at that raw, genuine experience, a Koan actually works against any kind of affirmative or negative narrative; it lacks that rational dimension entirely, even if it begins by prompting a re-examination of things. Think of it this way: in the West, you might look at the Kabbalistic *hitbonenut*—that deep contemplation found within Chabad—where the goal is to transition from a purely analytical, mental form of meditation toward a state of emotional insight or even ecstasy. But a Koan doesn't seek to tether you to a story, a specific idea, a deity, a person, or anything else we might label as the absolute Truth. They don't possess a mystical structure because they are fundamentally deconstructive. Most philosophical narratives and methodologies are constructive in nature, aiming for a specific conclusion or a logical framework. A Koan, however, possesses no such logic; it simply moves right past it, bypassing common sense altogether.
The Western rational approach—think of the heavy intellectual frameworks laid down by someone like Kant—tends to funnel us toward very specific, rigid ideas and narratives. It’s almost inevitable that this process breeds a certain kind of attachment; we grab onto these concepts as if they were solid ground. A Koan, however, operates on an entirely different frequency. Regardless of whatever tradition you might be steeped in, it possesses this inherent counter-cultural energy. It works by bypassing those habitual mental tracks our everyday minds follow, where we feel this constant, restless urge to take every abstract thought and force it into a concrete, labeled box.It follows that crafting one’s own personal Koan—if you can even manage to invent one from scratch—is where the real work lies. There is this common misconception, perhaps even baked into the very word Zen itself, that meditation is the ultimate end goal, when in reality, it is often far less vital than people assume. If we look at the bigger picture, the true objective is simply awakening, an opening of the eyes that can be triggered through countless different paths, often facilitated by various teachers who have actually achieved that state themselves. Of course, there is an overwhelming amount of speculation out there, and quite frankly, a lot of noise. My personal take is that Americans shouldn't feel the need to play dress-up or mimic the specific rituals and ceremonies of Eastern traditions just to find clarity. There are plenty of folks who realize this, and they understand that we have the capacity to cultivate our own uniquely American version of Zen, tailored to our own way of life.
If you look closely at the roots of Western thought, you’ll find that our closest neighbors to the world of Zen are actually the ancient Greek skeptics and the Pyrrhonists. It’s fascinating how these different eras and cultures start to bleed into one another when you dig deep enough. Take someone like Heraclitus, for instance; he was such a monumental figure that many of his core insights feel strikingly familiar. You could easily draw a direct line from his observations to the teachings found in Taoism or even the more modern Zen phrases we encounter today. It’s all part of that same continuous flow of understanding.
It is much like how those who follow Zen traditions operate; they tend to reject any strictly rational attempt to grasp at the Truth. Instead, they favor this direct, experiential immersion into the rhythms of daily life—a sort of total absorption where the boundaries begin to blur. Eventually, you reach a point where even the most fundamental dualities dissolve, leaving no distinction between the act of seeking and the state of simply being. There is this distinct Taoist undertone woven into the fabric of Zen that suggests the destination is actually the starting point. In essence, there isn't some profound ontological divide separating the peace of Nirvana from the chaos of our everyday struggles; they are one and the same.
The ancient Greek skeptics had a rather fascinating way of operating; they leaned heavily into debate, intricate narratives, and various intellectual gymnastics, though their ultimate objective was somewhat different from what we might expect today. Their true aim was to achieve ataraxia—that elusive state of mental tranquility or profound inner peace that comes from a radical, total doubt regarding all perceived truths. You see, by relentlessly exhausting the conceptual mind through every possible perspective and argument, one eventually reaches a point of complete surrender. It is in that moment of letting go, after the intellect has been thoroughly spent, that this deep sense of serenity finally takes hold.I’ve been sitting here thinking about how you frequently lean on that term "reactive," and it strikes me that your usage carries a certain weight, much like the way one might describe a diuretic in a clinical setting—always working to flush things out or respond to an immediate stimulus. It’s an interesting linguistic parallel, isn't it? I find myself wondering what your take is on that connection.
I’ve never exactly been on speaking terms with Scientology. 🙂
In the vast landscape of psychological discourse, one will find that the concept of reactivity is invoked quite frequently, often serving as a cornerstone for understanding how we navigate our internal worlds. It’s one of those terms that seems to drift through academic papers and therapy sessions alike, acting as a sort of catch-all for the way we respond to the various stimuli life throws our way. I often think of it like a sudden thunderstorm rolling over the Midwest; you can see the clouds gathering, you can feel the pressure change in the air, and before you even realize what's happening, there is this immediate, forceful reaction to the environment around you. In the same vein, our psychological reactivity functions as that automatic, sometimes jarring response to external triggers, shaping much of our interpersonal dynamics and our ability to maintain a sense of inner equilibrium.I haven't quite managed to sit down and work my way through Wittgenstein just yet, though I feel like I’ve grasped the core essence of his ideas. That being said, don't you think Heidegger would also have a significant place in this conversation?
It’s certainly possible... though, if I’m being honest, I feel like Wittgenstein’s whole way of thinking leans much more toward a Koan approach.
Daniel Castillo11 said:I am not entirely convinced that we can link Nirvana or Buddhism directly to mysticism. Zen, in particular, doesn't fit that mold, especially when you consider the Rinzai style of Koan. Mysticism is typically found within ecstatic religions—those emotionally charged doctrines centered around a divine personality or a deity, where there is a direct relationship between the worshiper and the worshiped. You might find traces of this in certain Buddhist traditions like Pure Land, but even there, it isn't true mysticism so much as it is classical devotion aimed at accumulating "merit" or karmic points.
Of course, perhaps the issue lies in how we choose to define the term "mysticism." I tend to stick to the more traditional definition.
Koans are certainly intriguing, though. They function as a type of paradoxical statement designed to reset the conceptual mind, leaving behind a sense of confusion or doubt in place of a verbal response. This state serves as an entry point into a direct experience of reality in the moment. Or, to put it more bluntly, a bit of a Mindfucker.🙂
If we were looking for the West's ultimate Mindfucker, it would likely be Wittgenstein, primarily due to his philosophical word games and his skepticism regarding the utility of language and words. He viewed his own methods as therapeutic, which feels quite similar to how certain schools of Zen attempt to quiet the reactive mind through paradox and absurdity.
Maria Robinson2 said:Buddhism and Hinduism seem to have merged over in the East. Did you catch that segment on CNN's "World Reporter"? It was interesting—how Hindus aren't agnostics like Buddhists, yet business interests managed to fuse them together, or so the locals there claimed, I guess.
And why exactly did Western Buddhism decide it could implement things better? If that’s the case—which I guess implies it isn't actually following the original teachings—everything just gets muddled together globally until you end up with a hundred different branches where nobody understands cause and effect. Or rather, the consequence isn't "attachment"—it's "Suffering." At least by that definition, the whole world can agree; there isn't a single grown adult out there who wouldn't know what Suffering is.
I mean, I’m not exactly trying to philosophize—I’m just thinking out loud, I guess... 🙂
Susan Price30 said:Honestly, that sounds like one of the worst ways to exist. I’d much rather endure suffering and learn something from it than just live like a vegetable. It’s better to love and lose than to never have loved at all—isn't that basically what Kant argued? It certainly feels that way right now.
Does Buddhism actually teach people to just live like plants—just vegetating without any drive and drifting aimlessly through life? 😁
Or am I totally misinterpreting what Buddhism is about?
Maria Robinson2 said:I'm not talking about Christianity in the West, the East, or anywhere else... in fact, I wasn't even talking about Christianity specifically, but rather a world that acts as a religion whenever it mistakenly thinks it isn't one.
Nietzsche was what you described—and an egocentrist at that—and people like him easily convince themselves they are charismatic leaders the world will follow. If the world has a low opinion of itself, it’s free to follow those global charlatans, but let's not forget that they too will receive their 'paycheck' based on their own labor—as it's said on Judgment Day.
So, yeah... that's the gist of it regarding these so-called 'supermen.'
Maria Robinson2 said:Well, I guess Nietzsche didn't know much about the Herd then.
You know—you were just another part of that global herd yourself, though you probably never cared to admit it.
So, what now? 🙂
Maria Robinson2 said:It would be rather strange of me to deny that certain individuals have created hell on Earth.
But,
do we really need Buddhism to realize that?
Maria Robinson2 said:"Flying" is such a glamorous concept—though, I suppose, not everyone is actually cut out for it—especially when that sudden urge to take off stems from pure dissatisfaction.
I suppose.
The entire Earth is restless—everyone seems dissatisfied, and I guess there are very few happy people left on it—if such people even exist anymore—and most folks just want to change that status quo as fast as they can.
As for spirituality... maybe. 🙂
Maria Robinson2 said:In short, how would you define freedom?
Not to make it sound like "we'll find activity within dissatisfaction and draw positive energy from there"—sorry, that sounds like some sci-fi movie plot where they don't actually "feed" on it, or maybe they do?
Speaking of sci-fi scenarios, I mentioned once that vampires actually have to eat; they aren't just the ones you see in movies. Some people caught my drift, others didn't—do you get what I'm getting at with that comparison?
Maria Robinson2 said:And you know how it goes—people call those who are "free" slaves to one thing or another. I might agree to a point, but... these aren't exactly shackles you can just slip off whenever you feel like it.
Humans get tied to things globally before they even realize they're connected. Still, I often find myself thinking about that old saying, "bad company ruins good character." I guess I've heard enough about human suffering, so I figured we might as well flip the script—see if there's anything else out there. If there happens to be something positive, we might as well focus on that.
Well, if you get what I mean, you get it.
Maria Robinson2 said:Interesting. Are there free people wandering down the wrong paths, then?
Look, everyone is free—even those following the rules, I suppose.
From the time we're kids, we're taught to be self-sufficient. Then eventually, we run into people who actually want to "take care" of us—which, naturally, feels intrusive, so we just dig our heels in. Isn't that how it works?
Maria Robinson2 said:Why would I? Do you honestly think you're the one looking out for me? As if my problems aren't significant enough compared to yours—though, I suppose, who can really rely on anyone else when you're left out in the cold by someone else's indifference, shivering away before you even have a chance to freeze...
(like I said, people are just scattered in drawers, though the drawers aren't even shut—since I'm not exactly one of those long-haul truckers, you know, driving across the States with frozen cargo) and all that nonsense.
Maria Robinson2 said:Actually, I don't label anyone by religion—not even when it comes to those online theology forums—I'm always telling them to stay out of those certain spheres, but apparently, nobody listens to me. So be it.
Anyway... I don't put people in boxes. Or, if I do, I leave the drawer open—so they can step out whenever they feel like it, of their own accord.
As for that attachment to suffering... there's that old saying, "if you go looking for storm clouds, you'll surely find them." Seems pretty accurate, doesn't it?