Modern Man in Search of a Soul - Being Read 2009.11.02

I'm keeping my eyes open for ideas relating to why I have embraced what looks on the surface to be an hypocrisy, that being my great respect for the ideas of both David K. Reynolds and C.G. Jung. Jung's ideas most certainly embrace Reynolds' but not, it would seem, the other way round.

The other day, as I continued to flip'n-read through Modern Man in Search of Soul, I came across a great comment on Alfred Adler's methodology. The

comment supports how my thinking (or is that delusional brain-washed re-iteration?!) has been moving as I examine my apparent hypocrisy in liking both C.G. Jung and D.K. Reynolds. Here's some food for thought:

The Adlerian school [of psychological thought], with it its educational intent, begins at the very point where Freud leaves off, and thus helps the patient who has learned to see into himself to find the way to normal life. It is obviously not enough for him to know how and why he fell ill, for to understand the causes of an evil does very little towards curing it. We must never forget that the crooked paths of a neurosis lead to as many obstinate habits, and that, despite any amount of understanding, these do not disappear until they are replaced by other habits. But habits are only won by exercise, and appropriate education is the sole means to this end. The patient must be, as it were, prodded onto other paths, and this always requires and educating will. We can therefore see why it is that Adler's approach has found such favour chiefly with clergymen and teachers, while Freud's school has its advocates among physicians and intellectuals, who one and all are bad nurses and educators.

Every stage in our psychic development has something peculiarly final about it. When we have experienced catharsis with its wholesale confession we feel that we have reached our goal at last; all has come out, all is known, every anxiety has been lived through and every tear shed; now things will go as they ought. After the work of explanation we are equally persuaded that we now know how the neurosis arose. The earliest memories have been unearthed, the deepest roots dug up; the transference was nothing but the wish-fulfilling fantasy of a child's paradise or a regression to the old family situation; the way to a normally disillusioned life is now open. But then comes the period of education, which makes us realize that no confession and no amount of explaining will make the ill-formed tree grow straight, but that it must be trained with the gardener's art upon the trellis before normal adaptation can be attained.

The curious sense of finality which attends every stage of development accounts for the fact that there are people using catharsis today who have apparently never heard of dream interpretation; Freudians who do not understand a word of Adler, and Adlerians who do not wish to hear any mention of the unconscious. Each is deceived by the sense of finality peculiar to the stage of development at which he stands, and this gives rise to that confusion of opinions and views which makes it so hard for us to find our bearings.

But what causes this sense of finality which evokes such bigoted obstinacy in all directions? I can only explain it to myself on the ground that each stage of development is summed up in a basic truth, and that therefore cases frequently recur which demonstrate this truth in a striking way. Our world is so exceedingly rich in delusions that a truth is priceless, and no one will let it slip because of a few exceptions with which it cannot be brought into accord. Whoever doubts this truth is of course looked upon as a faithless reprobate, while a note of fanaticism and intolerance creeps into the discussion on all sides.

And yet each of us can carry the torch of knowledge but a part of the way, until another takes it from him. Could we but accept this in an impersonal way — could we but grasp the fact that we are not the personal creators of our truths, but only their exponents who thus articulate the psychic needs of our day — then we should be able to perceive the profound and super-personal continuity of the human mind (45-7 my emphasis).

The main reason I transcribed this was Jung's great slag of Adler and Freud, and those who are drawn to their ideas! Well, not only that. I also love the complex and yet simple way he argues the weakness of singular truths and fixation. (And here is another equivalency with The Dog Whisperer, whose goal is often to break both dogs and owners of fixating.)

And the idea of the non-singularity of truth is an old one, and one that has been addressed by philosopher's and poets alike.

Here is a great example by a contemporary poet,

Wallace Stevens:

On the Road Home

It was when I said,

"There is no such thing as the truth,"

That the grapes seemed fatter.

The fox ran out of the hole.

You....You said,

"There are many truths,

But they are not parts of a truth."

Then the tree, at night, began to change,

Smoking through green and smoking blue.

We were two figures in a wood.

We said we stood alone.

It was when I said,

"Words are not forms of a single word.

In the sum of the parts, there are only the parts.

The world must be measured by eye";

It was when you said,

"The idols have seen lots of poverty,

Snakes and gold and lice,

But not the truth";

It was at that time, that the silence was largest

And longest, the night was roundest,

The fragrance of the autumn warmest,

Closest and strongest.

I came across this in one of my absolute favourite books,

News of the Universe: Poems of Two-fold Consciousness, ed.by Robert Bly. San Francisco: Sierra Club Books, 1980, p. 116. (The cover shown here is of a recent re-issue; my copy is from more than 20 years ago, and is not as shown.)

The Quiet Therapies - Sampling 2009.11.01

It would seem that breathing — more specifically proper breathing — is important for one's state of well being. I have, of course, in the course of my varied meditative and self-help readings seen this belabored. (I love how Tom Robbins spoofed this in his book Jitterbug Perfume, one of my favourite books, and perhaps my favourite by Robbins.)

I mention this because the other day I picked up my recently purchased

David K. Reynolds

The Quiet Therapies; Japanese Pathways to Personal Growth.

Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 1985.

ISBN0-8248-0801-0.

In typical fashion, I flipped randomly, and where my fingers stopped was in the chapter 'Seiza: Quiet Sitting Therapy'. The chapter has two directives — to sit and to breathe.

I have taken this as a gentle reminder from the universe to resume my efforts at proper breathing. This is something I have intermittently practiced over the years, only to let it slide as soon as I get busy or stressed, even though each time I've concentrated on breath I have felt physically, mentally and psychologically healthier. (I had for more than seven years a small sign on my computer at work to remind to breath, as I seem to have developed when very young the psycho-somatic tendency to hold my breath in preparation for struggling to cope with the next task.)

Lately I have been struggling with poor energy and excessive tiredness. This seems to have become more pronounced after a recent cold, which may be lingering. It is also likely that my relative lack of exercise in the last couple of years is an even bigger factor to my feeling at times quite listless. However, instead of getting out for a walk, such as right now on what is a beautiful post-Halloween afternoon, I will sit in front of this cursed iMac and write out about the importance of breathing to post in a blog. Sigh. There seems something sad about that, but here I am anyway, transcribing, writing, blogging.

And so, instead of walking, I have been practicing the seiza breathing over the last two days. Intermittently while doing other things, such as running around doing chores, baking or, even now, while typing. Very specifically not what Reynold's suggests — although I am not looking for his approval, so my way is good enough — as long as I get results. And I have felt a little better, at times.

So, here is how to breath the seiza-therapy way, according to David K. Reynolds:

Breathing
Proper breathing is the second key element of seiza. Either of the sitting positions described in the previous section is taken in large part to facilitate proper breathing, and the thought process to be described here is both a consequence of Okada-style breathing and an aid in achieving it. The focus of seiza breathing is a point several inches below the navel, the point at which the centre of gravity of the body, the tanden, is said to be found. When doing seiza properly, the upper chest does not expand and contract; the shoulders do not rise and fall.

During the inhalation phase the diaphragm moves down as the solar plexus fills with air and is pushed forward. This creates a feeling of pressure in the area below the diaphragm. Then, on exhalation, the solar plexus is allowed to relax slightly while the pressure is maintained in the lower abdomen. The diaphragm naturally moves up as the solar plexus us loosened somewhat. At the moment the air is felt to be exhausted, inhalation begins. Air is again allowed to silently enter the nose, fill the lungs, and swell out the solar plexus. When done skillfully, the inhalation phase takes only one quarter of the time of exhalation.

The critical period of this breathing technique comes during exhalation. Attention is concentrated on the lower abdomen. Never forced or strained, the air is slowly, silently exhaled through the nose. As Dr. Yokoyama put it, once should exhale so lightly that if a rabbit's hair were placed on the tip of one's nose it would not blow away.

For the average person, when breathing normally an inhalation-exhalation cycle will occur about fifteen times a minute. While doing seiza, the cycle slows to about six or seven times per minute. Advanced practitioners reduce the frequency to as low as two or three times a minute and lower. The aim for the beginner is not to reduce the number of breath cycles per minute quickly but to achieve the maximum in proper expansion and contraction within the range of comfort, without strain.
...

Physiological Changes
...
It is possible ... to use instruments to continuously monitor certain physiological signs during seiza and to note consistent changes that appear in nearly all clients. Seiza meditators often report experiencing sensations of warm hands and feet, a cool forehead, and increased salivation. The instruments confirm these self-reports. Yokoyama has reported findings of lowered pulse, lowered blood pressure (particularly in persons of high initial blood pressure), lowered temperature under the tongue and at the forehead, increased circulation and warming of the extremities, and increased salivation. As in zazen, the expenditure of energy probably decreases some 10 to 20 percent (83-6).

Good luck! And don't hold your breath.

Just Purchased: Barbara Hannah and David K. Reynolds - 2009.10.24

While doing a personal chore on my lunch break from work a few days ago, I visited, in piss-pouring rain, the north Burnaby bookstore, Companion Books. It is one of the cleanest and most orderly used bookstore I've visited in metropolitan Vancouver.

And I did well, with three great finds!

The first is phenomenal — sorry for the hyperbole, but … it is just so nice. It is the biography of C.G. Jung written by Barbara Hannah, called Jung: His Life and Work: A Biographical Memoir.

This is a book I read many years ago from the NWPL. It is well written and very interesting. I was thrilled and delighted to see and be able to get this near mint condition trade paperback. (I've left it at work because a co-worker, BJV., wants to read it. And I've left it at my desk where she can see it to help spur her reading The Art of Living by Epictetus, which I've already lent her. We'll see if that works to speed her reading. She says that Art of Living is good, but that she hasn't been reading it, lately.)

The other two books are also very, very nice! The nicer of the last two is a mint condition trade paper back of A Handbook for Constructive Living by David K. Reynolds. (My cover not as shown.) I've already glanced at it and it looks like a mighty fine find.

And the last is also by Reynolds: The Quiet Therapies; Japanese Pathways to Personal Growth. This is one of Reynolds' earliest books, I think, with its original publication being in 1980, although my trade was published in 1985. I am interested to see how Reynolds' ideas have evolved, and so this is also a great find.

Rainbow Rising from a Stream - Post Finis Citation 2009.10.18

I finished Rainbow Rising a while

ago, and it is filled with sticky notes on sections worth revisiting. Here is one that got me thinking about why I like C.G. Jung, despite the validity in Reynolds' criticism of the role that the concept of the unconscious has in the 'helpful science' of psychology. (I wonder what Reynolds thinks, then, of Jung's idea of the collective unconscious?!)

Constructive Living provides a genuine alternative model for Western psychotherapy's models of human suffering and successful living. Constructive Living doesn't merely substitute a new form of understanding human behaviour to replace entrenched Western psychological explanations. Constructive Living argues that human behaviour cannot and need not be explained by some postulated concept called the unconscious. Our approach is not irresponsible, it is not nihilistic, it is not hopeless. It merely suggests that our students' experience is more trustworthy than some scholars' words. As Richard Wilhelm put it, 'Lao Tsu does not make scientifically verifiable statements about (the Way). Given the nature of the issue, he cannot offer proof but he points to ways in which one may come to the experience of (the Way).' This strategy is the same as that adopted by Constructive Living. We offer enough information and exercises for you to check out the validity for yourself (34).

And to further his argument, he makes the following logical postulates:

• If you can control your feelings with consistency simply by willing feelings to change …

• If you stay on the same level of Constructive Living development without advancing or declining in your ability to live life well …

• If the world isn't supporting you in concrete, specific ways …

• If no one fed and clothed you as a child …

• If you continue to suffer to the same degree even when distracted or engrossed in the task at hand

• If your feelings don't fade over time in the absence of re-stimulating events …

• If the most satisfying times in your life don't include times times with behavioural accomplishments … (34).

Once again I find myself prompted to write out my reactions to this apparent ambivalence/contradiction of ideas. I've already begun it, and it is a curious argument. I think that Reynolds is right, but what he has slid over is that the unconscious is a part of reality. That, of course, is a paraphrase of Jung, who had a hard time convincing the world that the problem with seeing the reality of the unconscious is because we think our minds can grasp it — which is impossible because once the mind has grasped it, if that were possible, it would no longer be unconscious! Anyway, stay in touch for that piece of verbiage.

Rainbow Rising from a Stream: Finished 2009.09.10

Rainbow Rising from a Stream: The Natural Way to Well Being.

Finished 2009.09.12

Began 2009.08.13

☆☆☆☆☆

This is an extremely powerful read. It has a powerful and simple message. I have filled it with sticky notes on equivalences I see in Reynold's ideas and Cesar Millan's approach to dogs and people. Oh, and even more importantly, I am putting into practice some of the exercises given. (I will be transcribing extracts here, soon.)

Rainbow Rising from a Stream & Intro to Fushigi: Begun 2009.08.13

I have recently begun to watch The Dog Whisperer, Cesar Millan. He has inspired me to look into the parallels I see between his philosophy of life and the spiritual/philosophical texts I enjoy reading. And while I found myself immediately thinking of Jung and Sheldon Kopp, the book I first picked up to begin my research is

David K. Reynolds

Rainbow Rising from a Stream: The Natural Way to Well-Being.

New York. Quill (William Morrow and Company),1992

ISBN 0-688-11967-0

Began 2009.08.15

Finished 2009.09.27

It seems to me that Reynolds may be relatively unknown, as I have never seen or heard him in our broadcast media. I stumbled across him in the time of independent book stores, and found his ideas to be the most commonsensical and immediately/experientially 'true.'

Reynolds keeps it real, and is easily the most direct advocate of living in the moment, which is one of Cesar's most repeated tenets in good dog behaviour. He argues that this is one of the most important attributes of owning a dog, that you need to be living in the here and now because they are absolutely immediate -- they live neither in the past nor the future and to relate to them healthily requires that immediacy. But isn't that immediacy, of being fully alive now, truly what is important to live the well-lived-life?

Anyway, the book is festooned with noted stickies, right now, as I begin the process of researching the parallels between 'The Dog Whisper' and great philosophical tracts.

I learned a great Japanese word, today, from the book.

"Fushigi."

This translates, per Reynolds, as 'marvelous' or 'wondrous'.

It is applied to the magical moments of synchronicity-petites, as I call them. Synchronicity-petites are the small confluences of life, which when attended to experientially refute the universe as being dead collection of dead matter. This term equates, roughly, to Cesar Millan's use of the term 'the ripple effect', in that events come together meaningfully to those open to them.

The examples Reynolds give are his having purchased as a gift a hair drier for a friend whose hair dryer broke that morning. I find this word most excellent because I keep a black book log of the fushigi events that I find barrage my experience of life, oft-times in ways that, while marvelous, are also distressing to some more or less extent.