Professor Jack Sanger
Subscribe to The Moment by Email

Archives

November 2006 December 2006 January 2007 February 2007 March 2007 April 2007 May 2007 June 2007 July 2007 August 2007 September 2007 October 2007 November 2007 December 2007 January 2008 February 2008 March 2008 April 2008 May 2008 June 2008 July 2008 August 2008 September 2008 October 2008 November 2008 December 2008 January 2009 February 2009 March 2009 April 2009 May 2009 June 2009 July 2009 August 2009 September 2009 October 2009 November 2009 December 2009 January 2010 February 2010 March 2010 April 2010 May 2010 June 2010 July 2010 August 2010 September 2010 October 2010 November 2010 December 2010 January 2011 February 2011 March 2011 April 2011 May 2011 February 2012 March 2012 April 2012 May 2012 June 2012 July 2012 August 2012 September 2012 October 2012 November 2012 December 2012 January 2013 February 2013 March 2013 April 2013 May 2013 June 2013 July 2013 August 2013 September 2013 November 2013 December 2013 January 2014 March 2014


Powered by Blogger
The Moment
Tuesday, April 21, 2009



Zen flesh, Zen bones, pork and the sun


Having left behind the extraordinary silent harmony of nature and nurture (see photograph) around the Buddhist temples of Kyoto and Hiroshima, I am back in Ghana where the chaos of the roads, electric sounds and utilities prevails, as always. If you asked me how I’d like to spend my last few hours of this life, it would be in a Zen garden. There is something exquisite, a deep personal response from one’s essence when viewing sand sculptures which seem to preserve every grain in place, or individual plants, bushes and trees that are accorded place and reverence in the spread of foliage and earth. Very different from UK gardening programmes which, even in the most planned of country estates, use such hyperboles as ‘rich’, ‘riotous’ , ‘pageant’ and portray the garden as a site for drowning, a multi-sensory paradise. Well, Buddhists haven’t the same symbolism and paradise doesn’t come into it. It is not a form of drowning either but rather an uninterrupted meditation. Its effects permeate Japanese society where interiors are spare, where the meal table is aesthetically pleasing, where flowers are arranged in vases, according to a centuries-developed art, where targets shoot arrows in a Zen stillness and where cherry blossom has a spiritual symbolism that drives the entire population to picnic under the falling petals.

Well, so it seems to me on my brief visits there. It may all be superficial and I am taken in like a gullible tourist. Then again, when one is willingly taken in and the experience bolsters a basic drive to find meaning in life, then it can be almost ecstatic in its effect.

Surface and depth were paraded on BBC World News this morning. First, the sun has dimmed. It is not known whether this is similar to the 70 year dimming that led to a mini ice age a couple of centuries ago but its surface has turned turbulence-free. The second story concerned three piglets that are sharing the good life in a pen with a tiger. They have been clothed in stripy jackets so that the tiger’s natural predisposition for a pork lunch is counteracted by its desire to look after its own kin.

Western-philosophically speaking, from Plato on, human beings have pondered on the degree to which life is an illusion. Phenomenologists have sought to train the mind to empathise with the reality of living things, inanimate material and of others’existence. But most philosophy agrees that we can know the act of knowing but never the object of that knowing. Maya in Hindu belief.

Zen gardens, by their attention to the essence of things, make you aware of the illusion of living; the pork under the tiger skin or the leopard sun that can change its spots.

Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment


<< Home