PLAYING IN THE MUD  

by Meindert Gijzen

This article appeared in "Reports from the field", an American newsletter devoted to the Time, Space and Knowledge vision.

    In this article I will try to describe some aspects of TSK that make it so special for me. I will start with a psychological analysis of the way that I perceive many people dealing with what is called "spirituality". I have observed this trend up to a certain extent in myself and see it sometimes even more pronounced in others. After that I will describe how, for me at least,

the TSK-approach offers a refreshing perspective that overthrows our usual conceptions and ways of acting upon things. I do not want to give the impression that "I know" all this. This is not more than a description of some intuitions and conjectures and others might possibly view this very differently. I will be interested to hear from them.

    Anyone interested in TSK (or any other kind of 'spiritual' activity) will sooner or later be confronted with the fact that, however deep and refreshing some of the resulting meditative or 'transcendental' experiences may be, just taking time for meditation does not necessarily alleviate life's problems. Sometimes, in fact, these problems may actually seem to become worse, larger or more intense. 'How can that be?' - one might ask. For most people that I know, the initial motivation for starting any kind of 'spiritual practice' is usually a deep wish to somehow rise above life's daily bothersome affairs and ultimately attain some 'higher' level of being, regardless of how it is called (heaven, enlightenment, great knowledge etc.).

    In the beginning of any path that we follow, we probably succeed in tasting a relaxed, peaceful quality. How else could it be, if we consider the fact that most people are so completely immersed in the usual worries, conflicts, daydreams and struggles of ordinary life that there hardly remains any time left for contemplation and reflection at all? If people finally succeed in creating an open space where they can breathe freely, have a taste of relaxation and restore contact with the immediacy of time, surely this must feel like a blessing. But in the long run, as they become attached to 'my teaching', 'my meditation' or 'my spiritual group', a sense of grasping and clinging forms. As people go on practicing, at one point they will probably begin to say to themselves, sooner or later, that they have achieved some 'level of development'. This means that they, without noticing it, will adjust their self-images so as to incorporate new, 'better', 'more spiritual' or even 'advanced' qualities. They may even secretly begin to feel that they are, in a subtle sense, 'more developed' or 'better' than other, more ordinary people. I suppose that many of us have catched themselves having thoughts like that, at one time or another. Easier is it, of course, to see this happening with others. We can call it 'spiritual pride'. I believe that here is a trap that is very hard to avoid. Tarthang Tulku points to something likewise when he writes: "Still, at the deepest levels there is a danger of covering over one story with another. We all know how easy it is to fall into ways of acting or thinking that only mimic moments of true inspiration or insight. That is the risk here. If we use the 'no self' story in any of its countless variations to proclaim that we are free of stories, we have only sealed ourselves off still more completely from the knowledge available within time's conducting." (Dynamics of Time and Space, p.143)

    While this development takes place, gradually and almost imperceptibly, there often also arises another, parallel development. It has to do with a growing sense of frustration, embitterment even. For although our self-images may have been bolstered up, at the same time, under the surface of this seemingly self-confident attitude, a deep seated emotional insecurity and the accompanying anxiety and vulnerability still continue to exist. What is more, life still goes on to confront us with the general drama of growing older, of failing relationships, the threats of loss and illness etc. People may start to wonder: "What have all these years of spiritual practice really brought me? Am I really better off than those, for instance, who exclusively invested their time, money and energy in more materialistic aims, such as business, career, collecting wealth etc.?" The frustration that develops is usually connected with the embarrassing realization that the obstacles to inner development that present themselves are far more subtle and tenacious than one ever imagined. These 'obstacles' (that is at least how we tend to label them), can be of any kind, such as repetitive thought patterns, traumatic or painful memories, deeply rooted worries and anxieties, a sense of insufficiency, etc. Because of the sense of 'stuckness' that they engender I will call them here the 'mud' of existence. The heaviness and weariness that may overcome us when we are stuck in them, is in remarkable contrast with the sense of lightness and freedom that we may have had at other moments of our life, during what are sometimes called 'peak-experiences'.

    It is this mud that we are generally trying to avoid in life. We resist it, even despise it, especially since crawling through mud is quite at odds with what might be expected from someone who is 'spiritually developed'. The liberating viewpoint that is unfolded in the TSK-books however, points out how Great Knowledge encompasses literally everything. This means that mud and sky, good and evil, the beautiful and the ugly, heaven and hell can all be a source of energy and clarity, if regarded with 'knowledge-eyes'. Very practically it means that there is actually nothing to be avoided. It is on the contrary, the inner movement toward avoidance or attraction that is creating the dynamic that puts us into bondage. It is by constantly labeling experience in dualistic terms, such as good or bad, pleasant or unpleasant, desirable or undesirable and from there-on endlessly weaving stories from them, that the dramas of our lives are set up. What happens in the TSK-exercises is very interesting: We discover that we have the possibility of unraveling the intricate patterns of these stories and labels. By entering into the nucleus of energy and awareness, of what we have called 'obstacles', a process of transformation sets in. The obstacles turn out to be Knowledge in Disguise and we discover a new outlook and new possibilities. We are encouraged to question the 'realness' of our reality, to go beyond name and form, into the nature of appearance itself.

    By studying and practicing along these lines I arrived at the, for me at that time, remarkable discovery that 'the personal is the universal': Where-as before I had the idea that one should go beyond all these muddy affairs to seek out silence, space, serenity etc., it became more and more clear to me that it is by, wholeheartedly and with full awareness, 'penetrating into' the texture of mud itself, that a transformative process takes place. It is as if small bubbles of air start to form in it, changing the quality of the mud, making it lighter, less sticky, less repulsive. Continuing in this way it has become evident how the 'lower' aspects of experience may actually become the source of a totally new and refreshing 'knowledge'. On the other hand, it has become totally clear that denying and escaping from the 'mud-quality' of existence will make life even harder and more superficial. We may even develop a 'perfect neurosis' in which we become sealed off so perfectly from the deeper aspects of experience, that only Time itself has the power to release us from our cocoon.

    I would like to end up, half-jokingly, to play with words a little bit in the way that is often done in the TSK-books: If we totally accept the mudness of experience, we may develop enough mudness-ability to play in the mud without being bothered by it any more, like children who don't mind the rain or bad weather, because they are enjoying themselves.