Hello MOQ Focus,
"Which are your favorite passages in *Lila* and why?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
With some anticipation, I leisurely pulled Lila down from my shelf and began
flipping though her tired and bent cornered pages. I figured it would be easy
for me to find some of her passages that I casually kept bouncing around in
my head as favored friends. The difficulty came when I just simply found too
many of her passages that I felt were in equal running within my thoughts for
me to consider them favorites. So many sections of Lila that had equivalent
Value to my little reality of experience that even the small "things"
expanded into contention with the seemingly larger, more readily "heartfelt"
passages. This expansion problem went on inside my head for about 15 minutes
until it collapsed onto itself and revealed a solution. I simply threw the
book into the air to let the randomness of gravity's force decide what
Quality chapter would be my assignment for this month. The chance/fate event
yielded its results. And Chapter 26 of 'Lila' is where I find myself
traversing. Her ground is rich. Let's explore.
<<Lila>>
"In the Philosophology that calls itself philosophy. Students aren't
expected to philosophize. Their instructors would hardly know what to say if
they did."
Whenever I listen to Phaedrus critique what transpires inside our so-called
higher education systems that are employed most of the time, I feel blessed
and affirmed.
We all know what he is talking about - it's the "teachers trap". And the
traps are set up by the instructors themselves. It's like they are supposed
to be your guide through a tough section of woodland. And they say, "come on,
follow me, I know the way. I've been though here before". And indeed they
have been there before- just before you and they set up a bunch of nicely
camouflaged traps for you to set your foot into. The teacher enjoys this
because it makes him feel empowered as the students begin to become snared in
trap after trap. And of course, your "trusty guide" is always there to help
you out of the trap and proceed to show you how the trap works. All this is
very smoothly and cunningly done and so the teacher also gains your respect
and admiration. For the teacher is weak in courage, but strong in cunning! By
the time you're out of the woods you've learned nothing about the land or
journey itself. But rest assured you have learned something. And that is how
to set up some nicely camouflaged traps and a nifty self-gratifying way to
teach things. And it's a "too bad, too sad" story, because a lot of young
eagles learn to grow up into crows in this very manner.
Although in every classroom there are always a couple of foxes. You see the
fox may very well step into a trap, but the fox condemns the trap, not
himself! With this outlook, the fox turns his full attention to the landscape
itself as his guide and by experience he begins to see with a heightened all
encompassing vision. The traps become exposed into his view and the teacher
dissolves into what becomes just another piece of the environment.
Did the fox teach himself? No, he listened -most attentively- to the subtle
voice of the landscape itself of which he was a true student. To think he
taught himself would have just been another trap. You see, with knowledge of
the trap- you may very well be able to build a trap or maybe even a better
trap, but by doing so you condemn yourself into submission of the trap. But
when you condemn the trap, you learn from the field itself.
The field's final lesson is when you realize that you are not separate from
the field.
<<Lila>>
"the reason Phaedrus bought these books on James is that it was necessary to
bone up a little in order to protect his Metaphysics of Quality against
attack."
"The Battle". The battle is a constant theme upon our landscape. It is a
battle that our hero, Phaedrus fought into defeat, a grim defeat, and then
fought defeat itself and back again. Pheadrus tells us his tale from the
viewpoint of his battle. For Pheadrus is always in constant battle in his
novels. He fights universities, churches, science, philosophers, language,
physics, mystics, poets, saints, sinners -- shit man, he fights it all- he
even fights himself. To what end? Is it to aid us within our own battle? Is
that why he came back? Is that why I find him playing defense in chapter 26
of Lila now? Yea, I do believe that he tells his tale from the view of his
battle in order to aid us on our journey of evolution. But the final step he
only points to, because it is unspeakable. He has lived and spoken enough of
the battle. He tells me to not fall in love with the battle for the sake of
winning or even for the sake of the battle itself. But rather, that the cold
reality of the battle eventually reveals itself to be fictitious. He doesn't
destroy the battle. He communicates it in such a way as to show its Value!
<<Lila>>
"James's dislike of the dichotomy of the universe into subjects and objects.
---- automatically put him on the side of Phaedrus's angels."
Remember, the foxes final lesson is when he learns that he also is part of
the field. He retains this lesson by remembrance that he has learned from the
field and not from himself.
<<Lila>>
"Psychiatry can't really deal with all of this because it is pinioned to a
subject-object truth system which declares that one particular intellectual
pattern is real and all others are illusions."---------"But a philosophy of
insanity generated by a Metaphysics of Quality states that all these
CONFLICTING intellectual truths are just VALUE patterns."
I told you this ground was rich. Here, I glimpse a ghostly Phaedrus
dissolving into the landscape itself just as he raises his arm and points. He
points to the heart of the battle, where the scale is level, even when the
weights are off balance. The conflicting truths are both valuable! There is
Value in Opposition!
I find myself on a razor's edge that is very sharp. The edge is way to sharp
for me to walk on, indeed it is even difficult for me to balance. So if you
don't mind, I think I'll just stay here for awhile in order to hopefully
start to learn to balance. I dare not even breath in order to stay balanced
on this edge, but from this viewpoint Phaedrus's battle is exposed to me and
I would like to speak of it for the sake of honor. Although, I must take
leave of this narrative in order to give proper homage. So I'll tell it to
you from my heart as my body balances along this edge. For Pheadrus---
The Poet's Mind
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The poets' mind is a bloody mess
As it fights to see without any lies
And wants none of approvals sweet caress
But is assaulted as a swamp with flies.
For countless ways does winged reason go
Noises and activity and friction soar
His mind encircles, yearning to know
Amidst push and pull, disease or cure?
Absolutes thought straight, he followed around the bend
While the shifting sands rise up, extending their reach
Till recognizing his start was also an end
& The mountain pebble gently rolls to the beach.
Things that fall support the rising one
While all that is, seemingly stakes its claim
As the peacemaker dies by the hand of a gun
And opposition is not thanked, but rather held in blame.
His eyelids sank when looking into this endless fight
Still he boldly fought, both tides of the sea
Cause it seemed as success was gained by strength and might
Flailing his arms and holding his breath, to escape this created misery.
In fruitless motion, he suddenly stumbled as if by chance
Slowly he became still and then to a full stop
Gazing to look upon defeat, he beheld no such fight but only dance
For what is gained is not that which is sought.
At first he saw both, branch and root
But with vision now wonderfully blurred
The separation of such became moot
As a new Truth within him stirred
An unchanging Truth; Fluid in nature
Binding structure & chaos in relative time
All growth and decay having equal allure
With no confusion of what is just & what is crime.
The bloody mess of his mind became organized as a child
The mystery revealed, yet left unexplained
With contradictions intact and the tame being always part wild
The Truth that had filled is the same Truth that had drained.
As the whirlpool, tornado and hurricane goes
We see destruction and creation wrapped in a mighty burst
By opposing forces, they are exposed
Sensing envious admiration as the cause & quench of thirst
We scatter in fear and are amazed with delight
The Truth now followed, forms the many & dissolves the one
Uncomprehending, that what is called day is also the night
And His work shall remain unfinished, yet perfectly done.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Todd A. Pownell
10/24/99
Back to chapter 26:
<<Lila>>
"they found that the "ability to see reality"----- is also a difference
between different cultures of the sane. Each culture presumes its beliefs
correspond to some external reality,"----- "Even the 'facts' that people
observe to confirm the "truth" are dependent on the culture they live in."
Sunrise, on a warm calmly lit morning, our fox moved amongst the field. As
he moved, he listened to the wind, always learning, always yielding, and
always bending to the field. Of this, he was he was quite sure. He paused at
the top of a hill when in a moment between his breath, the field whispered,
"Dear fox, it is I that yield and bend to you." Of this, he was quite sure.
<<Lila>>
"Sanity is not truth. Sanity is conformity to what is socially expected.
Truth is sometimes in conformity, sometimes not."
The fox knew that he could not directly communicate the Truth between himself
and the field. For a westward wind that he knew as Phaedrus just reminded him
that language was a categorizing experience. He also remembered the utterance
of a northern wind that he kept in his heart, which said:
"Truth can never be told so as to be understood, and not be believ'd."
"Every thing possible to be believ'd is an image of truth."
So our fox also drew in his breath and spoke indirectly; again I leave the
narrative for the more obscure language of poetry.
~ My Winds ~
Me - An innocent blown in the wind.
Falling gets dirty, rising clean over'
Lessons lived, unjudged or unlearned?
So what is this wind anyway?
Shall I build a rudder or a sail?
Is it still not the wind that moves me?
Is it good that my rudder is built of judgements to be valued?
If so, isn't it still useless when the stronger winds come,
hurling me further into chaos?
My rudder has become a wall!
An illusion of control that truly confines distance.
Is my sail made from the higher wisdom of non-judgement?
Accepting all things with equal reverence and finding use?
Or should not its name be ignorance, unworthy and unable of discernment.
For am I still not unlearned of the wind, still adrift?
My sail has become an abyss, an excuse with holes abound.
Filled without authority, its commands are useless
It is void of wisdom.
This Paradoxical Wind!
This Chaotic Force!
Failing to control it, I shall submit to learn of it.
So I'll ask again, what is this wind?
It is not rigid as my rudder of judgement.
Nor does it capture, as my sail of ignorance.
It is wise.
It is free.
It is me.
It is a current of intelligent opposition!
Creative!
Inside and outside of all
I ride
This all-pervading force
Itself as my guide.
Rising
Falling
Still
Drifting
Rising
Falling
Still
Over!
~
Todd A. Pownell
Back to Chapter 26:
<<Lila>>
"It isn't just opinions that get filtered out. It's also data"----"Seeing is
not believing. Believing is seeing."
Our fox realized that the field is constantly unfolding, Thus he never
mourned for himself. He was a wild thing and his sympathy was only another
intuition. The crows of his former classroom however lived in constant
resentment over missed opportunities, forever enslaved in competition.
<<Lila>>
"The solution is not to condemn the culture as stupid but to look for those
factors that will make the new information acceptable: the keys. He thought
of his Metaphysics of Quality as a key."
Yes, the MOQ is a key-- a master key! Let us not dwell on the key so much as
not to look where it points too. A brand new view! The man who is
Phaedrus/Pirsig is now speaking volumes from his very silence!
<<Lila>>
"When there is a LETTING GO of static patterns the LIGHT occurs." "It is
often accompanied by a feeling of relaxation because static patterns have
been jarred loose"
The day came when our fox wandered to the edge of the field. There he saw the
ocean for the first time. He let go of all he knew and dived into the water
and swam as a dolphin though the beautiful turquoise waters down into the
blackened and heavy depths of the sea. From there he rose much larger now as
a whale, he gained energy and momentum and his massive body big as a building
sprang from the surface of the water and into the air. His energy increased
as his mass declined. He was a hawk as he circled and cut though the ether.
He landed upon a dry rock and cried out with an eagle's voice. And flew into
the sun as a beam of light.
<<Lila>>
"The eyes had blazed with what seemed to be Inner Light."
I calmly placed 'Lila' back onto the shelf. The room was now subtlety
lighter and I also felt lighter in weight. Could it be that gravity is also a
relative force? Bendable? I wonder? It was gravity that told me what chapter
to study this month. I'm starting to think that randomness just might have
something to say.
I have no doubt that something happened here. The Blake reference at the end
of the chapter was an uncanny coincidence for me.
Anyway, Happy Holidays to all and to all a good "Valued" night.
Todd.
Personal note to Diana:
I would like to thank you for running MOQ.ORG! It is a lot of fun! I saw
that you put a poem of mine in the forum section of the website. Since there
are two others in this essay, You may copy and post them in the forum also if
you would like to. I have no preference. Thanks again for your efforts.
Peace, Todd
------- End of forwarded message -------
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