What follows is something I should have addressed long ago. A personal foray into the topic of mental illness is something I have refrained from discussing, partly due to my own confusion and uncertainty on the subject. However, I feel as if I have finally reached a point where my thoughts on the matter might do some good to those who are interested. My journey is never ending, and I cannot claim to be a perfect authority. But I hope I can bring some insight and wisdom to the suffering we all endure.
Being one of those unlucky individuals with probable depression, I have often wondered why I have been cursed with such a plight. The unfairness of the world weighs heavy as I contemplate the darkened state of my mind. Why do these successive patterns of negative thinking have no end? Why can I not look upon people and the world with joy and optimism? I feel that looking into my past, and my reactions to past events, is the best place to start this inquiry. There was a time when the child within me reveled in every delight. There was a time when I felt nothing but curiosity and adventure upon thinking about the world. Those bygone times have since faded into obscurity and dull memory. But why?
I can remember the day, after my parent’s divorce, when my mom told me we were moving to Kansas City. I recall the thought of leaving my family and friends behind, of switching schools and starting my life anew. At that moment, my heart was imbued with more excitement than anything else. I had yet to experience the harsh reality of my entire world being turned upside down and ripped to shreds.
My eagerness and bright-eyed wonderment lasted quite awhile. In my new environment, surrounded by new and strange people, I managed the culture-shock seemingly beautifully. It was an undercurrent of resentment, personal failure, and disenchantment with society that ultimately led to my embitterment. I feel as if I squandered the last of my energy in high school, with no future intake to supplement it. By the time college rolled around, I was running on existential fumes. It’s amazing how long I was able to deny to myself the full extent of the problem.
Life is comprised of cycles and tidal movements of energy. For a successive period of years, we can live with forward momentum, our sheer force of will and passion carrying us onward. But in a brief moment, all of this enthusiasm can change for the worse. The forward momentum gives way to spiritual friction, or resistance. This can commonly arise from some form of trauma, but in my case it also happened to be a procession of existential realizations. It may be a controversial claim, but this is the beginning of a natural process.
I suffered one of these traumatic realizations without recognizing what was happening. The act of my world turning upside down destroyed my momentum and instigated the friction. Looking back, I see how unavoidable this process was. I was indeed on the doorstep of a personal “dark night of the soul.” This was something that garnered the scorn of my subconscious. This was something that I could not accept on a truly innate level, and I therefore made it infinitely worse. I wish I could have realized my folly sooner, but alas, I could not.
One of my biggest flaws has always been misguided idealism toward the people in my life. With my cursed ability to see the potential of humanity, I unfairly hold others to unattainable standards. I see the possible greatness in everyone, but often at the expense of not accepting their imperfections. When I finally started to see that the people I loved were not living up to my idea of them, a painful and bewildering dissonance befell my soul. This comprised the gist of my existential realization. In hindsight, much of this mental shift could have arisen from simply growing up. But I believe the combination of a major life change and an evolution of my awareness created the situation.
So many of us fall into depression at some point in life without recognizing the process for what it truly is. With a healthcare industry that puts emphasis on the material and chemical, we are often left in the dark to depression’s true meaning. While we treat our symptoms in order to remain functional members of society, the underlying causes of our inner darkness are left unaddressed. According to Buddhist teachings, life itself is suffering. But the growing pandemic of mental illness highlights the singular nature of this moment in time. It is indeed a repressed spiritual nature and an ignorance of the natural cycles of the soul that are grievously dampening our wellbeing.
As younger generations become increasingly unfulfilled and lost in this materialistic society, they are taught the wrongness of depression. The dark night of the soul is a time where old concepts and attachments die. With proper guidance and understanding, it can lead to a state of renewal that is necessary for spiritual growth. The metaphor of a phoenix rising from its ashes embodies this rebirth philosophy. We all have the shadow of depression in us, but sweeping it under the rug and denying its existence lets the darkness fester and eventually consume the soul. So many of us never receive the direction we need to traverse our shadow.
Depression settles on me now, and I feel the icy clutches of nihilism reaching out. How do I combat the dark insights my tainted intuition conjures up? Am I failing, or am I working through a process that is a natural part of my spiritual development? These are the questions I ask myself on the most difficult of days. The disappointment I have toward society mirrors the disappointment I have toward myself. Hate for others is rooted in a fundamental hate for oneself.
All of my introspection has led me to the simple conviction that love is the answer. The part of our soul that lies in obscurity and depression is just as worthy of love as the part we take pride in. Only by having compassion for our inner darkness can we transcend the breaking down of tired concepts and attachments. Only by recognizing and accepting our shadow can we eliminate the power we give it through denial. Only through true love for ourselves can we fulfill our spiritual destiny.
Note: Dipping my toes into the world of podcasting, I thought it wise to play around with possible formats. This simple narration was easy for me, and it provided the experience I needed to create a better workflow in the future. I have ambitious plans for Head Junk, and I can’t wait to divulge more in my official introductory episode, which is coming soon. For now you can find my episodes on Anchor, but they will soon be available on most streaming platforms (Apple Podcasts, Spotify, etc). Thank you for all of the interest and support, my dear friends.
As I look out upon the world, I am overcome by the strife that plagues humanity. I bear witness to the repeated acts of selfishness that are rooted in fundamental failures of communication. I see how our fallen species has lost its understanding of the most important universal truths. I gaze into the hearts of men and discern their villainous intentions. And yet, this dreary perception is not the whole story. Once your eyes have been opened to the ugliness and imperfection of this reality, it’s easy to experience a natural slide into dejection and cynicism. As one who is conscious of the rising jadedness in his heart, I am compelled to see the spiritual futility of such a perspective. There must be something I’ve missed — some greater understanding of all things — to give me hope for the future.
“If a person’s behavior doesn’t make sense to you, it is because you are missing a part of their context. It’s that simple.” ~ Devon Price
The vast majority of misunderstanding in our world stems from the false perception that everyone thinks precisely like you. Familiarity with the variety of cognitive functions, and their many different ways of manifesting in the psyche, negates this perception. The morals and ethical beliefs that you keep rooted so deeply in your identity may not be applicable to another, and thinking so will merely give you false expectations of their behavior. No, we are all such beautifully multifaceted creatures. And while our fundamental similarities will always outweigh our differences, there is too much variety in the human makeup to hold everyone to a single set of standards.
“The one eye of the Godhead is blind, the one ear of the Godhead is deaf, the order of its being is crossed by chaos. So be patient with the crippledness of the world, and do not overvalue its consummate beauty.” ~ Carl Jung, Liber Novus
By staying conscious of this, you are naturally inclined to have a more open mind. By reminding yourself not to pass judgement too quickly, you can be open to the possibility that there is a valid reason why someone’s behavior doesn’t make sense to you. And this openness will only ever bring you closer to a person, fostering a much better understanding of who they are and a respect for their inherent uniqueness. Unless you’ve truly walked another’s life path, you will never know what it feels like to be them every day. You will never know all of the traumas and experiences that contribute to making them who they are. Ease up on your misinformed and rigid expectations of their behavior. You might find that this acceptance warms your heart as much as their own. This is the root of all compassion.
“In all chaos there is a cosmos, in all disorder a secret order.” ~ Carl Jung
Every macro, societal, and cultural issue can be traced back to fundamental psychological causes. We are a collective consciousness. The many comprise the totality. The composition of underlying issues always manifests as a greater image of chaos and discord. From a purely macro perspective, this perceived chaos is what can engender cynicism and later nihilism in the soul. The greater, societal condition is merely a reflection of the internal, human condition. All of the world’s plights are natural consequences of spiritual and psychological failings. There is indeed a reason for the imperfection we witness in reality, and it’s from not realizing that this very same reality lives in each and every one of us. It results in a disastrous and heart wrenching lack of compassion.
“As above, so below; as within, so without.” ~ Hermes Trismegistus, Hermetic Corpus
The nature of reality and the shortcomings of humanity are both perceived and dictated by your perspective. You have the ability to make the biggest difference in the world by first making a difference in yourself. Instilling your way of looking at others with more acceptance and a broader mindset will let you better see the underlying machinations of the world at large. Open your heart to embrace the suffering of those around you, and understand that all the strife they’ve experienced made them who they are today. By truly staying conscious of the varied and multifaceted nature of the human condition, you create within yourself a newfound compassion for those whose hearts you previously judged without context.
I present a short musing that marks my hopefully triumphant return from the annals of writer’s block and apathy. It’s been too long since I’ve felt proud of a single sentence in anything I’ve written, including this. But how can I better perfect myself without even trying? Anyway, I digress. It’s time to purge this nihilism from my system.
The briefness of life is akin to a single breath of air. An inhale, an exhale, and then it’s over. The effects and memory of our meager existence in the universe are left to disperse and decay. I realize that I will not be upon this earth forever, for in fact my essence is as transitory as weather in the midwest. *chuckle* In this existence, my body is merely a shell that I must maintain in order to continue experiencing the perception of this particular state of reality. But this is a highly metaphysical, somewhat dry perspective.
The simple, unalterable, absolute truth is that I’m going to die.
I’m going to be rendered obsolete, wiped clean from the collective body of society, and ultimately eliminated from the engorged pool of humanity. It’s a frightening thought, but one I’m learning to embrace. Because embracing the inevitable is the best reality check. It frames your existence within a new context. It teaches you to see the aspects of life that matter on a true and profound scale. It unveils how many years you’ve wasted on trivial pursuits of material intention.But most importantly, it’s humbling as hell.
To cope with the realization of my looming annihilation, I have searched for a greater purpose. As if in rebellion against the void, I’ve analyzed the patterns of causes and effects underlying every event, looking for some meaning. This has led to a greater awareness of actions and reactions on both a micro (personal) and macro (universal) scale. Perceiving the inherent interconnectedness of everything and everyone, with no exceptions, has not been a forthcoming achievement. I realize that my way of thinking and priorities in life are not in line with convention, which has culminated in a self-centered yearning to be understood that I struggle to overcome. It’s spiritually inhibiting.
Liberation from spiritual death is understanding that the distinction between your individuality and the rest of the universe is not absolute. At best, it’s an illusion crafted by the limited awareness and material grip of this state of reality. The intrinsic and interconnected nature of life proves that we can not exist without sending ripples of effects out into the universe. And we are most certainly not immune to being affected by the ripples around us. It is indeed a metaphysical ocean we live in, and an unstoppable force that binds us all.
I meditate on this realization when the absurdity of existence takes its toll. What lies after death may not be possible to know with certainty. It may not even be within my capabilities, for all the speculating books and Sanskrit translations I’ve slogged through. But it’s my newfound understanding that this knowledge isn’t necessary. Realizing how inherently interwoven I am with the workings of the universe gives me a place and a calling. Spirituality frames the narrow truths of nihilism within a grander, far nobler context of divine purpose.
Death is but one side of the great balancing act of the universe. The story is so much larger than any individual soul. By striving to develop a perception of our interconnectedness, we can be inspired to live in a state of unconditional compassion, liberated understanding, and servitude toward our fellow man.
Writing for me has always been a bit like singing a song. It requires combining the melody of good syntax and diction with the soul of a purposeful theme. I can feel a profound sense of rhythm when I stumble upon just the right sequence of words. Its both liberating and enlightening to write with that sense of velocity. I could only compare it to the feeling of flying and careening through the skies.
But there is also another aspect to writing; a frustration and helpless abandonment of the creative muses. When I feel as if all the original thought and genius has been stripped from my soul, I know there is no hope for any writing endeavor. When a mental embargo has hindered me from putting pen to paper, I know it is time to slow down and take a breather. This describes my writing mentality perfectly: a continuous fluctuation between supreme literary prowess and the icy, empty and void-like hollowness of writer’s block.
Asking myself “who am I as a writer?” requires facing both aspects of how I feel on the subject. Both the negative and positive are important in their own right. Without this acceptance of duality, any conclusion I could make would come out skewed and biased toward one aspect over another. That is the reason I must face my own inner demons of insecurities and writer’s block. I would not be able to define who I am without total acceptance of the broad perspective of my writing.
In essence, for me, the ability to write is akin to the ability to meditate. Some days are vastly easier than others and there is always an experience of flexing the creative muscle, just like the spiritual muscle stretched with meditation. When I try to envision the tranquility of writing, I see a vast hay field yawning out before me, wide and free. I see the sky above stretching into oblivion, patterned with shifting cotton clouds. I see the massive expanse of field spreading outward; its golden hills rolling with the richness of harvest. There is peace and pride for my hard work. There is some nameless and swelling emotion transcendent of bliss. It’s powerful and motivating. It’s what I live for as a writer.
Lewis Carol, author of Alice in Wonderland, once said “Who in the world am I? Ah, that’s the great puzzle.” Introspection has always been a great part of my writing in general. There is always an element of questioning my own perspective and ruminating on how I simply ‘feel’ at the core. I think that any good piece of writing takes its author on a journey of self-discovery and realization. That is certainly the case for me, and I wouldn’t be the writer I am today if I hadn’t been doing this creative craft for a while. Sometimes the goal is the journey itself, and self actualization can only be found when that is accepted. Writing epitomizes this internal struggle.
For me, the image of the Buddha symbolizes peace, solitude, and inner-harmony. It provides a path for me to follow and a spiritual goal to achieve. It gives my soul a moral framework onto which I can build the rest of my life. Attaining these ideals is also the process I use to write my best work. Striving to hone the inner fire of creativity and passion is spiritual at its essence, and there is no better symbol for this act in my opinion than the Buddha. Literature that embodies the greatest sense of clarity and divinity requires just as much restraint as it does enthusiasm. Embracing solitude and a deeper peace of mind is crucial for developing restraint.
There are moments when I am in the midst of a creative effort that I become aware of a certain emptiness in my center. Its not the void-like disparity of writer’s block, but a very light and buoyant emptiness, filled with satisfaction and confidence. Pardon the contradictory description, but that is exactly how it feels. The Buddha teaches about this emptiness and encourages all to cultivate their awareness of it. Again, this occurs most strongly when I am writing or in the middle of any art. I would hazard a strong guess that many other artists have beheld this experience as well.
At the core of any type of art or craft is a need for the sincerity of the artist. The utter honesty of self is something I strive to incorporate in my own work. There is a quote by Spencer Johnson that reflects the two natures of sincerity needed for authentic writing: “Integrity is telling myself the truth, and honesty is telling the truth to other people.” Whether I am hindered by writer’s block or my creative energies are manifest, I make it a requirement to only complete work that is genuine to my soul. Writing for me is an incredibly honest act that means far more than merely creating entertainment for someone else to enjoy. It’s a spiritual exercise that requires me to be completely and utterly sincere with myself. There is no room for obfuscation and facades; only severe, blinding truth. Like a surgeons scalpel, I use literary expression to cut away all the denial and bottled emotions from my inner integrity.
There is also a strict importance for an outward sense of honesty in my writing as well. This entails expressing my purpose and message concisely and with the desired effect. I do not wish for others to misinterpret my meaning due to faulty word choice. I also do not wish to be dishonest about myself or lead someone on a ersatz path of understanding. Whittled down to the marrow, this is the creed of my writing. That is the rule that I religiously adhere to. Just like the Spencer Johnson quote expressed, true sincerity is doubled-faceted in nature. It requires a personal sense of integrity and a public obligation to honesty. That is the ethical code I instill in all of my writing.
Calling myself a writer means a lot more than using a superficial label or identity. It means that I have taken up the sometimes painful, yet beautiful art of wordsmithery. It means that I have taken the road less travelled and delved inwards to confront my own insecurities, all in order to give my craft the tranquility, introspection, and sincerity it deserves. When I ask myself “Who am I as a writer,” there is no clearcut answer or identity that separates me from the rest of the herd. There is only the willingness to do right by my creative efforts and craft something that is truly representative of how I feel within my heart. Perhaps the most difficult aspect of writing is expressing the chaotic and complex web of intelligence, or our minds, in a way that we can give the readers the purest and most honest sense of understanding. This is ultimately the goal I live for as a writer.
The smell of rain permeates the air as I kick at the dust on the side of an old country road. I see where the early drops have already fallen, leaving specks of slightly darkened soil. A man sits on the curb across from where I’m standing, looking at the rusted heap of metal that was previously a bike. I can see his age in the wrinkles of his hands and the riddled liver spots adorning his lined face. I can feel the age of his soul in the bright understanding and gentle humor of the situation in his eyes. The raindrops fall with increasing intensity as I stand and observe. The dust on my shoes is wiped away and I feel the matted hair sticking to my brow. I have an umbrella in my hands, and I raise it up to shield myself. The mechanism sticks and I struggle to pull it open as a gust overtakes me. The old man looks to the heavens pensively as if thanking the clouds for their life-giving gift.
Without even a glance to the ruined bike, he stands to his feet with more balance than I would expect. Embracing the inevitability of the situation, he raises his arms to better feel the rain. He remains there, enjoying the forces that which he cannot control and finds peace in the moment. I look to him curiously and cease my struggles with the ill-fated umbrella. I let it fall to the ground and look up, feeling each drop caress my cheeks and run down my arms in gentle rivulets. I give in to the unchangeable tidal forces of all that is, and effectively, to the forces in my life that are better accepted than opposed. And in that moment, I am the world.
In life, we will confront obstacles. They will be seemingly unmovable, impermeable obtrusions that bring about stress and dissatisfaction. A perfect situation is all we can hope for, yet perfection is a level that will never be achieved. Circumstances will always be riddled with inadequacies and tidbits that are less than desirable. It is the inherent nature of mankind to oppose the forces in life that we cannot control. It is the nature of humanity to fear that which does not fall into our dominion. In other words, shit happens. It’s going to hurt, and possibly alter your life, but it’s going to happen nevertheless. Life is multi-faceted, meaning that nothing we encounter is ever simple, black, or white. This is the nature of suffering, the immutable strife we incur internally.
Amidst this conscious strife, there is a beauty and bliss in simply accepting the shit life throws in our direction. This does not mean we couldn’t or shouldn’t alter our circumstances for the better, but sometimes the option doesn’t exist. Sometimes the best we can do is realize that suffering is an integral part of the journey. Suffering is an inherent aspect of our spiritual growing up, you could say. Like the old man who embraced the rain because he was unable to escape it, so should we embrace the hard times that persist outside our control. Within this acceptance, we will find an unexpected bliss. I guess what I’m trying to impart is that sometimes it’s foolish to resist the winds of life.
Sometimes it’s best to fly alongside.
Special thanks to my friend Topher Otake for inspiring me.
Amidst the facade and fictional overlay of the world, there is an underlying truth. This is not a reference to the validity of factual knowledge, but more so to the truth in perception. What is the true nature of all that is? We ask these questions in every waking moment of our lives, but normally not through conscious methods. We question subconsciously. We are unaware seekers, eternally blinded by the fog of ignorance, yet still questioning what we perceive in some deeper facet of our minds. There is an aspect of humanity’s primal nature rooted in the bliss of ignorance: the conditioning of our minds on the basis of prior bias and prejudice. Environmental factors, over a period of time, result in a developing pattern of thought that tends to stick with us for life. This pattern is the epitome of ego. It leads us into an existence founded in ignorance.
The struggle between the security of ignorance and the piercing clarity of truth is well documented. Humanity is not entirely oblivious to it’s superficial perception of reality, even though most do not choose to acknowledge it. In Plato’s “Allegory of the Cave,” a few subjects are chained where all they can see are shadows of real objects on the wall in front of them. Their backs are to the entrance of the cave, and so the subjects did not know of anything more ingrained in truth than the faux images. They were ignorant of the honest reality of the world.
This struggle is again expressed in a modern film, “The Truman Show.” The lead character, Truman, is the star of a television show that he believes is the real world. His family, friends, and any other humans he interacts with are merely actors. His hometown, Seahaven, is only a giant set. Truman believes everything is real while his actions are unknowingly being broadcasted to the entire nation. The movie introduces Truman at a time when he is only beginning to realize there is something not right or authentic about his life. The film documents Truman’s ascension into the real world and into knowledge similar to that of Plato’s cave dwellers.
“We accept the reality of the world in which we are presented.” This quote emanated from the directer of “The Truman Show.” Truman Burbank lived his life in a television show since birth, knowing no other reality. Acceptance of the world as he saw it was ingrained in his mentality. He firmly believed that the lifestyle he was living was normal. In Plato”s “Allegory of the Cave” the subjects in the cave watched the shadows believing they were completely founded in truth. The actors Truman grew to love and trust are metaphors for the shadows the subjects in the cave accepted as real. There were times when Truman was informed he was living a life of lies in a television show, but he was unable to understand them in his ignorance. Similarly, when a subject in the cave was told that more to life existed than the cave itself, he could not believe it, proving that ignorance is blinding. It was not until he witnessed the true reality or world for himself that his eyes were opened. This struggle and eventual realization is synonymous with that of Truman’s.
In the film, the viewers of “The Truman Show” religiously watch the events in Truman’s life, basing their own lives around his decisions and actions. Like Truman, they are controlled by the puppeteers, or directors, of the show. Once Truman escaped into the true world, the viewers found other shows to watch. It can be said that people in a media-driven society are prisoners like those in Plato’s cave. We watch television as they watch the shadows of the puppets, and base our lives around such. For example, commercials espouse certain products, advertising them profusely. We give in to this pressure and purchase them accordingly, only reinforcing the metaphorical prison we all are enchained in.
Plato would agree that both his “Allegory of the Cave” and “The Truman Show” are merely paradigms of an overall human condition. We all are slaves to ignorance and a limited perception of “what is.” Each of us believes in a monochrome reality, one in which our vision of the world is truth, and anything else is in opposition to that viewpoint. Like the prisoners in the cave, we cannot see the truth, and therefore we cannot fathom the existence of it. This inhibition can be transcended, but only through courage and introspection. The truth is paramount, but unless the ignorance of accumulated conditioning and a superficial perception are overcome, we will forever be blind to the beauty of what truly “is.”
You are the captain of a ship that has sunk. There are thirty people trying to stay afloat on a lifeboat, which is only meant to hold twenty. It will sink momentarily, unless something is done. There are two distinct choices: Since the boat will need rowed to shore, you could throw the ten weakest people overboard, thereby ensuring the safety of at least some lives. Or, you could allow everyone to stay, sinking the boat, and most likely dooming everyone aboard. What do you do?
Morality and ethics are far from absolute. For each individual, the bridge between right and wrong is different. In some cases, the contrasts are only marginally at odds, although others can be more drastic in their differences. There is an aspect of the human psyche that is prone to viewing reality in black and white. This dualistic world view separates life into two distinct categories: right and wrong, moral and immoral, or good and bad.
Not every dilemma has an answer. There may never be a perfect solution for each intricate equation we face in life. The assumption that there can only be two choices is inherently flawed. For the sake of delving into the philosophical realm of ethics, legalism and rigid boxes are fine and dandy. Nevertheless, I must disagree that this is a realistic or practical outlook. In many circumstances, it is never easy to analyze or pinpoint the “right” path to take. Of course, there are still times when a moral choice is clearly black or white, but one must realize that this outlook doesn’t apply to every situation.
In the end, it must be understood that moral dilemmas in life cannot always be answered by adhering to a civic code. We must follow our conscience, and judge dilemmas based on circumstances rather than how they apply to a strict ideology. Our intuition should be a great asset in these situations. Sometimes, all we see is the black or white, when truly, the matter is only painted in shades of gray.
I’ve always found it intriguing how a single perspective can become the dominate way of viewing reality. No matter how flawed the outlook, we can become blinded. Eventually we become puppets to the vision, and we lose sight of any alternative. The possibility of stepping back and seeing the bigger picture becomes null.
Every kernel of time harbors an infinite amount of possibilities and events. Each second bears witness to the indefinite and the undefinable. We often forget here on Earth that our lives and experiences only comprise an infinitesimally small fraction of the totality.
Time is relative. The reality in which our consciousness resides is certainly not the bigger picture. It is an extremely limited viewpoint that forms the basis of all suffering. It is a rampant addiction to personalizing all of the pain we endure in life. If such a perspective becomes ingrained at an early age, is there any means of transcendence?
There are moments when something akin to an epiphany intrudes upon the cacophony of our flawed reality. There are moments when we are overcome by an intuition or inspiration that renders our critical conscience useless. We become vessels of the deepest creative powers. These moments constitute true beauty. The incessant drone of that voice in our heads is halted, even if it is only for a moment. Within that single second, the truth becomes apparent. The empty expanse of the page behind the text is revealed.
We perceive ourselves in these momentary glimpses, but is is inherently not our Self that we encounter. We are encountering the crystal depths below the surface of a turbulent sea. This epiphany opens our hearts and minds to the undefinable depths that constitute our true being.
In that single second we see the bigger picture. We understand the futility of maintaining our flawed perspective. In that single blink of an eye, the truth is apparent. And like the sun obscured on a cloudy day, it’s over. And then we forget.
It has recently been my pleasure to make the acquaintance of Myosen Marcia Olsen, a Zen Buddhist Priest and author of Experiencing God Through Zen Insight. Through this intriguing book, Myosen endeavors to shed light on the often misunderstood practices of Zen Buddhism. Through her own personal experiences and realizations, the author appeals to readers on a personal level. I was compelled to take her thoughts into account with an unbiased perspective, as all should. I would also like to thank Myosen for this beautiful interview. She has worked diligently on answering my every question, for which I am sincerely grateful. I will be posting my official review of Experiencing God Through Zen Insight in due time, but for now, here is our dialogue:
Ty: Myosen Osho, you are a Zen Buddhist osho, which is nearly synonymous with a priest. Could you please elaborate on what this entails? How has your history and past experiences shaped you into the person you are today? Out of these experiences, which have most enabled you to become an Osho?
Myosen: Buddha invited people to come and experience for themselves. He did not want anyone to believe blindly and expressly said so. I wish to mirror that sentiment.
Perhaps if I talk about my experiences, people will be able to relate to my experiences at least to some degree. I have not reached mastery, but I have had both experience at practice as well as enlightening experiences. I know the value of practice and where it leads.
Regarding your question about becoming an osho, here is a list of some things a student does to further his practice and help others: Practicing in intense, formal ways; meditating in moderate but consistent ways daily; practicing in everyday life; studying the master’s teaching and sutras; experiencing truth; and having a willingness to teach others are all a part of becoming osho. I studied Zen twenty-one years with a very high-level master before I became an osho. Practice involves both physical and mental efforts in tandem with the use of one’s will. Some people have become oshos in a shorter period of time. I became osho in 1989 after having supported and functioned within our own center, Joshu Zen Temple, for nineteen years along with my husband. Each person’s situation is different. Capacities, needs, and limitations vary from person to person. There are different aspects and levels of practice. Each person does what he can to practice.
Regarding what has shaped me in this life, in general I think it is partly experiences in one’s life that shape a person, but a big part of it is a person’s innate personality. People are born with greatly varying personalities which include strengths, weakness, and tendencies. I’ve had a very challenging life, but I also have a tenacious spirit. I think my tenacious and somewhat optimistic spirit helped me continue with my Zen practice.
There were a lot of good things that happened in my early life, but the bad things that happened might have broken a weaker person. Perhaps the good things helped keep me stronger, but there’s also an intangible element involved, something deeper. I think kids need all the love, moral support, and guidance they can get without dominating or squelching their inherent personalities—especially in today’s world. They also need some discipline, structure, and need to learn to handle disappointment. However, one’s character usually shines through it all.
I’ve always been drawn to the religious and spiritual. Christianity gave me some satisfaction when I was growing up, but I reached a point where it no longer served my needs. Our family life began falling apart when I was thirteen or fourteen. The family relationships became more corrosive and toxic. I found that without a happy, supportive, and cohesive family life and without happiness in life in general, my religion did nothing to soothe or bring me happiness.
I did not realize it then, but I was searching for happiness that was not dependent upon things like family happiness or worldly happiness.
When I found Joshu Roshi, I was impressed with the form of practice and the teaching of Rinzai Zen as done by him. The Roshi helped me progress. He was very refined and skilled. He was and is powerfully spiritual. The experiences I’ve had in Zen practice have been remarkable. The master also helped my husband and many others. Thanks to my practice and my master, I experienced things I could have never anticipated. I always doubted that I could do it, but I did eventually have some profound breakthoughs.
Perhaps a person must feel drawn to practice. I would say it is pretty rare that anyone could be pushed into developing an interest. On the other hand, our master was put into Zen practice by his family as part of the Japanese custom. The custom was that older sons would inherit the family property, and the younger sons would often go into a temple or monastery as a Zen monk. I believe something similar happened with the famous master, Ikkyu, who entered a Zen temple at five years of age. The Japanese culture supported and encouraged this. So you can see that masters have come forth from such a culture.
In our organization, a person who has studied Zen sincerely and long enough with our master and has put forth the effort to help others through establishing a Zen center and thereby teaching others will usually be ordained an osho. When one becomes osho, he is given formal authority to speak and expound about Zen practice. However, an osho who has not been ordained a master is not a master. We have about twenty-five oshos in our overall organization, none of whom has become a master. There have been thousands of Zen students who have come and gone.
Ty: Throughout your book, it was mentioned several times that words are not the way, but merely guide posts along the way. If the ultimate goal is to experience Dharmakaya, do you believe that Experiencing God Through Zen Insight could be a helpful source for students of Zen?
Myosen: Some of my friends who are experienced Zen students and oshos liked my book very much. The book may inspire people who are seekers or who are open in general or who are inclined to go in this direction. Some who find their lives are unsatisfactory may be interested. There is the possibility that the book could motivate someone to practice Zen. It may help an interested person to get an idea of what to expect. It might also provide an interested person who reads the book a little bit of background from which to begin asking questions. I never knew what questions to ask; I just delved into practice. I began reading books on Zen when I was around fifteen or sixteen, but I did not begin Zen practice until age nineteen. There was a famous master who did not start until age sixty.
Ty: You experienced a Christian Upbringing. Do you feel that this has allowed you to approach others of varying religions with Zen concepts, keeping in mind that all spiritual paths share core values?
Myosen: I believe the book gives people educated in the Western culture and Western way of looking at religion something about Zen to get their teeth into and maybe provides a starting place to be able to relate, just a tad, to the Zen mind. I firmly believe that the teachings of Buddha and Christ are much closer than people realize. The book provides some fairly strong correlations from a very different perspective. Human beings tend to pigeon-hole and categorize everything into neat little boxes, all of which are rigidly separate from one another.
Ty: There is a point in your book where you discuss two forces of the universe: expansion and contraction, or masculine and feminine. What have you deduced about homosexuality? It is quite possible that humans are inherently attached to being male or female. Although, perhaps love can transcend gender. What is the difference between spiritual love and attachment?
Myosen: Spiritual love occurs spontaneously when one has dissolved self. A whole new world opens up. Spiritual love does not move from one object to another. One experiences infinite love. Human love is more attached love coming from the particular mind and heart of an individual. Both kinds of love are good, but when we practice Zen sincerely, human love becomes more balanced, less conditional, and less selfishly attached—happier and freer.
I have known many homosexuals, most of whom have been wonderful people—industrious, very intelligent, congenial, energetic, and productive. I like them just fine. Homosexuals have the same spiritual capability as everyone does. We human beings should not expect the world to change for us. It is more spiritually productive to look at oneself and work to find happiness that goes beyond the human world. Everyone experiences some kind of rejection or prejudice. I’ve had plenty of that in my life. I’ve worked around it and have meditated through it. It is actually conducive to one’s spiritual growth.
Ty: We both know that theorizing and idealizing will not provide results in the ultimate attainment of Dharmakaya. However, you discussed something called Mahayana Democracy. Could you elaborate on this? What is the usefulness in conceptualizing if we know that the world is inherently imperfect and always will be?
Myosen: Even though Zen practice focuses on the individual, it is possible for mankind to evolve as a whole, with many beings making efforts to evolve spiritually and intellectually, thereby uplifting the culture. Some countries have been examples of this, even though they never reached “perfection”, there is an intangible perfection.
I think it is instructive to examine ourselves and our ideals and longings as human beings. I think it also illustrates what is possible, even though highly improbable. I think there is value in expressing our ideals about a perfect world, even if it is futile. Then we must throw it away completely and not attach to it. That is important.
This painful world is our spiritual growing ground—just as it is. Even though the world is imperfect and we are imperfect, we can realize and experience perfection—right in this imperfect world. I personally would love to see all the people of the world work toward a higher level of spiritual attainment and stop enslaving and hurting one another in so many ways. But then, it would be immature of me to expect the world to change to suit my personal desires. I can change myself. I can attain happiness that goes beyond the world and is not dependent upon any particular worldly conditions or manifestations, not dependent upon people smiling at me and affirming me.
Ty: Suffering is an intrinsic aspect of life. Everybody carries the burden of an overflowing chalice. Our minds are ridden with worry, anxiety, fear, and attachment. Many are skeptical that Zen practice can make a difference, and many believe that there is no time for such “idleness” in their lives. How can we incorporate mindfulness in our every day actions? How can simple endeavors such as washing dishes become spiritual practices?
Myosen: It is up to the individual, of course. Everyone is different. There are different avenues for different people. Some may consider Zen practice as “idleness”, but many appreciate the dimension it has added to their lives. I have found it indispensable.
Yes, the human mind is full of worry, anxiety, fear, and attachment. When we are feeling those things, that means we are experiencing just that—the human mind. We naturally want to experience something greater, the Absolute Mind, to rise above suffering. After experiencing the Absolute, we come back to the human experience feeling revived, invigorated, and more balanced, more at peace. The cycle continues, going deeper and deeper with practice, depending upon the individual. It is a struggle, a worthwhile struggle. It is a struggle that leads in an upward spiral, not a downward struggle to despair, even though it may get difficult.
In Zen practice it is important to unify with our everyday activities such as washing dishes, sweeping the floor or cooking dinner. We utterly dissolve into those activities. That is all that exists for that moment. Then we go on to the next activity.
Zen practice has helped to keep me grounded. It helps me to cope with life. Zen practice has helped me counter stress. My practice has helped me in many ways, from dealing with stress and emotional problems—all the way to having wonderful, spiritual experiences at times. It depends upon each individual, how his particular situation unfolds, and how much consistency, patience, and energy he can put into his practice.
I am an ordinary person. I have used it in my life and have proven it for myself. There is no magic bullet that will wipe away all suffering in one fell swoop. There are some things in our lives that must unfold and with which we must deal. The question is: How does one deal with the good times and the bad times and stay in balance—not attaching to the good and only seeking the good or exciting things in life? One can thoroughly enjoy the most mundane things in life. This is the way to maturity.
Ty: For those who are curious about Zen, what knowledge would you impart before they embark upon this journey?
Myosen: One cannot be dependent upon society, the group, or “group think”. One cannot attach to that way of thinking in Zen practice. One must free himself from society, culture, and his upbringing in order to discover his True Nature or True Self. One can function more happily in society and culture—just as it is—when he has freed himself from it.
Zen practice is an individual endeavor. Progress takes place within the individual. We do help students via the structured discipline and the teaching, but the Zen student must make his own efforts. The student gets help from the “outside”, but he must apply himself to change himself on the “inside”. That’s why it is said that the practice is an individual endeavor.
If you enjoyed this interview, you can learn more about Myosen Marcia Olsen here, and purchase Experiencing God Through Zen Insight at Amazon or Barnes & Noble.
Crisp, Ty (2013) Interview with Myosen Marcia Olsen
I would like to thank my dear friend, Linnéa Janus Sjögren for a truly enlightening interview. I’ve expanded my journalistic inquiries of authors to any individual that manages to inspire me in some way or another. Today I am sharing a dialogue between one such person, a character that I’ve been honored to communicate with in a soul-to-soul manner. The authenticity of this dear friend is evident in every word. She accepts herself and cherishes both the flaws and kernels of beauty each human is endowed with. I find myself rapt in awe and filled with admiration by this complex, engaging, and ultimately impassioned muse.
Ty: Your current abode lies in Sweden, but have you lived there your entire life? And if so, how has the culture made you who you are today?
Linnéa: I am born and raised in Stockholm, Sweden. I’ve moved within the city limits and within Sweden’s boundaries. A few years ago I moved to Finland. I stayed there for about a year and a half, and then I returned back home to Sweden.
I’ve lived in all kinds of places. I grew up in a small town with deep social-economical cracks. Something that’s become more and more noticed in the Swedish society today. Though few people will acknowledge that. I’ve spent time with people from all social casts, and it has all left me with imprints. In the long run, my moving around within Stockholm, has left me with more impacts than living abroad.
I’ve learned more from people around me, than from the culture in itself. Unless you would count music, music has always had a big impact and been very important. The different musical cultures have molded me more than social-economic cultures.
I’ve wandered from pop, to punk and rock, to industrial, synth and goth, in to metal and down to the underground sub-genres. This is where a lot of inspiration and comfort has been found. Time to heal and to feel. Music has always been more important than where I’ve lived. Everything that’s been a psychical change is jumbled and mixed up, while the music makes a soft, easy to follow, wave.
Ty: From our various conversations, It’s obvious that you are an incredibly soulful and spiritual individual. Has this always been the case? What factors in your life have contributed to the broader view of reality you express so well?
Linnéa: I don’t see myself as soulful or spiritual, but it might be that I am. Mostly I’ve always walked my own path in life. Observing and learning wherever I’ve needed to. Every time I’ve tried to walk to the beat of someone else’s drum it’s always ended in misery and pain. Though I’ve learned a lot from it, I wouldn’t recommend it. I make my own happiness, though it took me a few years to figure it out.
Growing up I was very focused on trying to “fit in”, I tried to be as normal as possible. I will admit that it was a poor idea, and something I wouldn’t recommend to anyone.
But there are many factors, not many of them beautiful. First of I was bullied for a long time in school. It was a hard life at home with my mom having it very hard economically and having mental issues she needed to work out. This made my first 18 years very dark, and I had the blackest of black depressions. Around the time I was 18, cynical, and mentally buried in the feelings of worthlessness, I met someone very special. He put books by Richard Bach in my hands and brought me to his healer. I’d gone through many kinds of abuse, mental and physical by this time and had started looking into Zen meditation, I was tired of being broken and had somewhere along the way realized that only I could make myself whole. But it helped a bit on the way, and made me feel a bit less useless. It gave me a sense of self again. I got to grow, and I found myself re-connecting to life. I had stood still for so long that I thought I was a lost cause.
So I mediated, and I read. I went back to finish High School and get my grades, so maybe one days I can get into university. Of course not without some setbacks along the way. It was a hard road to walk, with work on the side and bad choices in relationships. But it’s the only way to grow as a person, through trials of various kinds. I’ve always had to struggle with one thing or the other, mostly it’s been the economic perspective. I’ve never seen any real value in money, and it’s given me many difficulties along the way, but not any that can’t be solved. So in a way, I’ve always lived smack down in the middle of reality, working to stand up on my own two legs at the same time as I’ve tried to figure out my life.
This is my reality, and I get to see the full spectrum of it.
Ty: I’ve always believed that raw knowledge can be transcended by personal experience: the ability and conditions necessary to develop wisdom. Where do your priorities in life lie in regards to these two methods of personal betterment?
Linnéa: I always work to become a better me. But I don’t believe in wisdom. It may sound odd since the definition of wisdom is to learn from ones experience. However, it feels so very misguided to me. For me it’s all about moving forward, learning and transcend through my highest right. I will never base an active decision on anything else than that. I question everything, to see if my answers change, how I change, and how the world around me change.
Of course, once can transcend through experience, but I don’t believe in that kind if experience without pains and trials. To really ascend into a better self, one needs to be able to merge the spiritual and the physical into a balance. It can never be two separate worlds. Knowledge in any form, comes through questioning. And mostly, I question myself, my choices, and what I do. If I don’t, when who will?
Ty: Falling in love is both the most complicated and simple of phenomenons in the universe. You are an open polyamorist, and this subject is unique for someone who has the amazing ability to be romantically involved with more than one person. Has accepting this facet of your personality liberated you from the pain of any possible hurdles along the way? In your opinion, is love most powerful when kept between two individuals, or shared openly as something all of humanity can partake in?
Linnéa: I don’t think it’s unique in any way really. Many people love selfishly, they keep it to themselves and with it comes jealousy, fear and confusion. Something that, in itself, is the opposite of love. I could be romantically involved with more than one person, if I wished. however, I don’t, and I’m not. I chose a monogamous relationship, To share my most intimate with one person. And though I can fall in love with others, it is something I can choose to either act upon or not. I preferably choose not to, because I know there is naught much to miss, except the thrill of the first moments with someone new, and in the long run I don’t find it very fascinating.
However, it has changed a lot for me, to accept this part of me. I heard many times that my love was fleeting and that I didn’t know how it was to really feel for another person, while today I’d say that it’s a very wrong assumption. On the contrary, I get to feel deep, amazing, feelings for more than one person – it’s a different aspect of love, and somehow I believe it’s richer, than the simple one love. Most importantly, I feel free in my way of loving people. I can love freely in a new way, knowing it’s just part of me.
Of course it doesn’t liberate me from possible pains and heartaches. But it’s taught me a lot about jealousy and how to handle that aspects that can come from all kinds of directions.
I think love is always powerful, no matter how it’s shared. But it will always give back more then more you share it. Though it ought not to be too confused with sex. To share love freely, it has to be empathic, caring, and respectful. It’s never about the sexual aspect of a relationship.
Ty: Sexuality and orientation is a precarious subject for many, yet you manage to embrace yours with a grace that I deeply admire. Concluding this insightful interview, could you explain to our audience the importance of accepting one’s true nature, and not only being honest to others, but honest to oneself?
Linnéa: It is important to accept oneself, fully and entirely – that includes all those pesky details and flaws we see in ourselves, inwards and out. In a society where people strive to find “perfection” they often lose sight of what perfection is. Nature is perfection, perfection is a growing and changing state of mind, something under constant development. Life is perfect, with all its hardships and challenges. You are perfect, as long as you strive to ascend into your next self. But as soon as you stand dormant, perfection cease, because you have now stopped moving forward.
When realizing you are perfect just the way you are, a new kind of honesty will find its way to your heart. For you have accepted all that you are, thus opening yourself up to see your own inner diamond, your core, your soul.
With transcendence comes understanding, and with understanding comes humility. Within humility there is a honesty hard to find elsewhere. Through it you’ll find yourself a new honest nature, with yourself and the people around you.
It’s important, because it’s about taking care of yourself. For when you can really take care of yourself, from the inside and out, you can take care of those closest to your heart. the trick is always to care for yourself first, because if you’re not whole – you can’t possibly give support to those around you. It might sound counterproductive, but it’s really the only way to grow and keep moving forward. Because you won’t develop as long as you linger on your old scars, and tear then open. You won’t heal unless you allow yourself to do it, and you won’t ascend unless you heal. Love will heal, but you need to find that love towards yourself within you, before you can find love outside. Only you can heal yourself, and only you can accept yourself, your love towards yourself will always be the greatest one you’ll ever find.
In short: Find your highest truth, your highest self. Live by it, and you will notice a difference.
I hope you enjoyed this interview and appreciate the new direction I’m focusing my eyes on. In the future, you can expect to see more inquiries with freethinking individuals. Everyone has an ability to break the mold in some way or another. True strength lies in the fearless: those who understand the importance of individuality and thinking for oneself. We should all take to heart the importance of being authentically unique, realizing that we can change the world with our mind and then choosing to do so. It’s the sincerest gift we can share with humanity.
If you are interested in learning more about Linnéa Janus Sjögren, check out her insightful blog, Dreamscapes.
Crisp, Ty (2013) Interview with Linnéa Janus Sjögren