In my essay on Goodness, I did not define any acts, per se, that were right or wrong, in an abstract way. What I did is orient myself within the only skin I have, and look at the world, and figure out what seemed to make me happier, and what more disturbed.
Evil is evil not because some absolute code is embedded in the universe: it is evil because to want to do it, you have to kill the parts of your self that are able to make you happy. It is completely congruent with unhappiness, understood in a deep way.
I was watching my emotions today–mindfulness is a basic Buddhist practice–and noticing the flow. I did something, then immediately said “that was a fuckup”, and got mad at myself. It probably wasn’t, but let’s say it was. We are shooting figurative missiles out into the world every time we make a decision. You can’t undo the past, and you can’t make things that flowed from your actions disappear from the world. Shit happens, but there is always a proximate cause, and sometimes it is you.
How much good does self-flagellation do? The task is to get it right the next time. We learn to be mad at ourselves so that we are impressed enough with the severity of the wrong to not repeat it. Otherwise, since most of us are dumbasses, we risk repeating it. This is an adaptive reaction, but only to someone who is fundamentally asleep at the wheel. If you are alert, there is no need for anger.
Or take jealousy. Is it not attachment to something someone else has? Is it not in effect giving some part of your self to your conception of some other person?
I studied martial arts for a fair while, perhaps six years. The useful part of it was learning to deal with complex flowing situations without losing my physical, emotional, or mental balance. I have no idea if I can fight, but the practice was invaluable just for this sensation of relaxed reaction without fear.
Emotions attack us, in some ways, do they not? Are most tragedies not about someone attacked by some emotion, who in the end is overwhelmed? King Lear, vanity perhaps. Hamlet, paralysis. Othello, jealousy. MacBeth, ambition and pride.
The tighter you are, the more profound the effect. Ideas like “no self” help to loosen you up. I was having fun playing with this whole antipodal Buddhist thing this morning. There is no fuckup, and there is no not fuckup. There is no being smart, and no being not-smart. It seems to give you play, and room to maneuver.
When reading some Asian (and other) philosophical texts, it is easy to misunderstand them. Take the doctrine of Sukhaduhkasamo, which translates as He for whom pleasure and pain are the same. Who would want to live like that? Emotionally numb, unable to enjoy anything to gain the satisfaction of not suffering.
On my rendering, what an exceptionally well-organized person is feel both positive and negative feelings deeply and often, but buffer them in such a way that homeostasis is quickly regained. I visualize a sort of slow motion film, where you see the assault, the impact, and the adjustment, and renormalization. It’s not that you don’t feel, it’s that you are not attached to grief, or joy. You let the world live, and the dominant sensation of that is still pleasure and enjoyment.
You could almost use an example of interest income on investments. Do you make more money on 3% return annually for 50 years on a given amount, or on a return that varies constantly from -10% to positive 20%? It’s hard to say. It depends how often you wind up in each place.
A sunny disposition is much more to be wished for and cultivated than the great strains and victories of continual agonistic conflict.
That will do for now. I had a few nascent things to say, and think I roughly said them.