Category: Faith and Wisdom (Page 5 of 6)

Fundamentalism: Freedom from distractions
New Age: Freedom from
restrictions

Each has a drawback:

Fundamentalism: Has restrictions to true choice

New Age: Loss of direction to distractions

Let me explain. With fundamentalism, for example, Southern Baptists or Shiite Muslims take great pains to separate men and women, the temptations of the flesh. Rigorous precepts of co-mingling, no alcohol, no dancing are enforced to allow men and women to go on with their lives without distracting temptations of the flesh. Fundamentalism has at its core a belief that the flesh is VERY weak, and must be chained up, covered, locked down and put away. The spirit soars in inverse proportion to how detained is the body.

This actually works pretty well, and isn’t necessarily a terrible thing. After all, it still is an attempt at living a life of meaning and usefulness, instead of a life mired in selfish desires and self destructive behavior.

But Fundamentalism assumes weakness, and therefore never expects too much of one.

Its drawback comes when those external restrictions are removed. Without the enforcer, the jailer keeping your body locked up tight, without the imposition of rules, without a learned internal decision-making capacity, you can fall victim to excesses for which you are not prepared. Think the “preacher’s son/daughter” syndrome or “Catholic school girl.”

Secondly, fundamentalism has a spirit crushing affect on those that fall ever so slightly outside its ordered confines. I’ve known several Mormons, both active in the faith and fallen away from it, and the commonality among them is the crushing expectation of the community. This can cause them to raise to great heights, but can
just as easily drag them to deep lows. To get a divorce in the Mormon faith is one of the most unforgivable transgressions. Pre-marital sex? Drinking? Carousing? Men, failure to provide for your family? The Mormon community exacts a heavy, many times, unspoken toll on those not strong enough to keep the rules of faith.

New Age, on the other hand, is a recent phenomenon. It strives to remove restrictions from the individual. It seeks to unlock your hidden potential. Give up your petty fears, focus on the self, and you shall be free. Your guilty heart holds you back. Your fears, your past, your transgressions, your weaknesses, they all have one thing in common – they conspire to drag you down, lock you up, keep you miserable. That cannot be God’s plan for you. New Age strives to unlock all the chains that bind.

It’s a lovely message for those that have been beaten down, for those that feel that they have never been realized. It may be the first time that some of them have felt any self-worth. Perhaps it was a battered wife, an alcoholic, an abused child, or any of the variety of broken souls that litter the earth. New Age religion offers these people a way out, an offer of acceptance and non-judgment.

It really is a lovely message, but it has a fatal flaw as well. Excessive focus on the self causes a loss of awareness of the other. Take for example the author Richard Bach,   of Jonathan Livingston Seagull fame. His recent explanation of his divorce is revealing of the pitfalls of New Age thinking.

…Leslie and I are no longer married. Soul mates, to me, don’t define themselves by legal marriage. There’s a learning connection that exists between those two souls. Leslie and I had that for the longest time, and then a couple of years ago, she had this startling realization. She said, “Richard, we have different goals!” I was yearning for my little adventures and looking forward to writing more books. Leslie has worked all her life long, and she wanted peace, she wanted to slow the pace, not complicate it, not speed it up. Not money, not family, no other men or other women, separated us. We wanted different futures. She was right for her. I was right for me. Finally it came time for us to make a choice. We could save the marriage and smother each other: “You can’t be who you want to be.” Or we could separate and save the love and respect that we had for each other. We decided the marriage was the less important. And now we’re living separate lives.

Do you see the same thing I see? Lack of passion? Lack of focus? Lack of heart? Here’s someone who’s painted himself into a corner of denial. Look, buddy, just admit you two screwed up. You couldn’t compromise. You couldn’t make it work. Each was more in love with their “self” than the “other”. Examine your limitations. Learn from your failure. You’ve got to see where you’ve screwed up. You’ll not learn from it if you don’t see your failures in a cold clear light.

One would believe that New Age opens up an infinite variety of experience, a limitless, endless array of choices all of which are equal and none of which are right or  wrong. They simply are. With little framework to define a right path or a wrong path, people may wander around without direction, without purpose, or perhaps the main purpose being self-fulfillment. Like little ants wandering around randomly looking for food, deep New Agers suddenly come upon a morsel, and being so cut off from the other, do not even have the capacity to communicate the message of what they have found. They are content to let the colony discover the morsel for themselves, for how could they be so arrogant as to assume this morsel is fit for anyone else but themselves.

Without at least some level of rigor, decisions become bland, tasteless, without risk, without price. A marriage ends because it did. We chose not to be married, and it was the right choice for us. We become so detached from each other, so free, that we may as well just float away in our own little bubble, little known to the universe, having never wanted to risk offending it with our failure.

I’ve always had a deep distrust for both extremes, that is, fundamentalists scare me with their rigorous intolerance for distractions and those that bring them, and New Agers scare me with their aimless free floating lack of commitment. The truth must lie somewhere in the middle, somewhere between crushing restrictions and overwhelming relativism.

Flashback to 1994

The phone was ringing on a Saturday morning as we were having breakfast. I picked it up. “Hello?”

“Lt. O’Malley, this is LTC Jones, we need to talk. How soon can you get down to the unit?”

“I, uh, I’ll be right there. Can you tell me what this is about?”

“No I can’t.”

“Okay, I’ll be right there.” This couldn’t be good. No way could this be good. What did I do? What is the problem? I had no idea, and the terse tone filled me with dread.

“Hon, I have to go to the unit.”

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

“Most definitely, yes, there is something wrong, but I don’t know what. I can’t talk about it… I… “ I fumbled around for keys, shoes, trying to remember where I was.

On the short drive to the port district in Oakland, I searched my memories trying to figure out what this could be about, trying to think if I did or said anything… anything. I had no idea, and that was more disconcerting than anything.

“Lt O’Malley, close the door and have a seat.”

I sat there in stunned silence, waiting for the bell to toll.

“I have received a disturbing report of your behavior, LT.”

…and? I thought.

“Two SGT’s have come forward with racial discrimination complaint against you. I consider these charges grave.”

I felt shocked and relieved at the same time. Shocked that someone could have accused me of such a thing, relieved that I knew it to be untrue.

“I – uh, never. Sir, I have never done such a thing. Who was it?” I was a little rattled, searching for the purpose, the plan, the method, why am I here, I asked myself?

“I can’t tell you, LT, but I consider the charges serious.”

“I am not a racist. What do they say I did? What could I have done? I’m married to a Puerto Rican, I live in Oakland for God’s sake. I love diversity. There’s no way I’m a racist.”

“That may be, LT, but I tell you, you have a problem.”

I stammered, repeated myself, got defensive. “Sir, it’s not true. It’s not true. I didn’t do it.”

LTC Jones, changed his tone a bit. I noticed a slightly fatherly demeanor for this young Lieutenant. “LT, you have a problem. How are you going to solve it?”

“A problem?! I never.. I didn’t. I can’t…”

He cut me off firmly. “LT, YOU have a problem. What are you going to do about it?”

Something clicked at that moment. I have a problem. Yes, I do, don’t I? I have been lost in my own bruised ego. I had tried to shirk the responsibility for this problem that had been thrust upon me. It was mine. All my own. It was not of my own making, but it had been delivered to me. I was now the proud owner of a problem not of my own making. Now novel, eh? – as if no one in humanity’s history had ever had to deal with a problem not of their own making, or consequence, or foundations contrary their own values.

How novel, how rich, how unusual, I reflected sarcastically. This is something that happens everyday. Problems arrive at the doorsteps of unsuspecting fools, delivered by incompetent, malicious, ill-intentioned, or ignorant people. Sometimes problems arrive from the Atlantic kicking up wind gusts of 150 mph. Accidents happen, sometimes through the carelessness of action, thoughtlessness, or just plain dumb luck.

“What can I do?” I asked LTC Jones. But before he could answer, I blurted out, “I want to address the company. Let me address the company, that way the individuals can hear me and I don’t have to single them out. Let me address the company and just nip this in the bud, with an apology.”

LTC Jones hid a smile. “That’s a great idea, LT. We can do it in the morning formation. That way it can be cleared up, and we can get on with the rest of the weekend. I’m glad we had this talk. Now get out of here.”

He was pleased, I could tell. He didn’t want to be too jubilant. It’s not dignified. But reflecting on this many years latter, I understand the difficulties of command. He had a Lieutenant and two Sergeants that were at odds. In order for his unit to function there must be accord. The unit must run without disruption, petty politics, individual negativity, bickering. The unit must have unity, a sense of esprit de corps. He doesn’t know who to trust, and probably doesn’t really care. If the charges go forward, a complaint would be filed, possibly investigated and filed away. As a commander, I can tell you that that is not a solution. It solves nothing, does nothing but document and bury the incident. Meanwhile, relationships suffer, factions form from those that support one side or the other, and the unit becomes less effective.

My direction was clear in that moment of clarity, a momentary bolt of wisdom had shot through that young heart of mine, and allowed me to divorce myself from my ego, my concern for myself, my career, my well-being, and allowed me to see my damaged unit, and know there was something I could do about it.

What LTC Jones really wanted was someone who could solve his problem, and I was the only one capable. To have been able to count on me for that task was probably something for which he was very grateful.

I didn’t want to go. They
made me, sort of kicking and screaming. I don’t know really why I
didn’t want to see it. Maybe it was because it was such a big thing, in
vogue. If it’s in the current fashion, I want something else. Maybe I
felt uncomfortable around religious people. I kept making jokes. "Is
this where the religious wackos hang out?" or "Oh, you’re one of those
religious people." I mean, we all go to church together, so I’m one of
you too. I’d chuckle.

But there was a kernel of truth there
in those off-handed comments, that belied what I really felt. 
Sometimes I feel like I don’t fit in. When I’m in mass, I’m one of the
"in" crowd, part of the culture, on the inside. Sometimes, though, I
feel like an infiltrator, like they’re going to find out who I really
am and boot me. Sssh.

In all reality, the Catholic church
bugs me to no end, from the Pope on down. There’s lots of things that
are weird, wrong, or just plain stupid. Many people are sheep. Much of
the hierarchy is lost in the abstract, wrapped around many layers of
dogma, protective coatings designed to preserve rather than serve. And
the people; coming to mass hoping to receive
something, perhaps a magic wafer? They hop into their cars and rush off
to some trivial secular affair, content that they have done their
weekly hour of religious devotion. They learned the right words to say.
Piety comes in a can.

And then there are those that have
mystified things to an unrecognizable degree…Virgin Marys in wet
cement in Guatemala, weeping statues, dripping candles, mystical
lights, apparitions, miracles. Each of these people believing that they
have faith, but really deep deep down they hope that their faith can be
proven, and seek something upon which to rest their salvation. May I
have a coaster for this cup of mine, I am having trouble holding it.

And
so there I am, left lamenting the dogma, practice, and the many faulty
hearts and minds of humanity. I am now forced to endure an epic
produced and directed by a pre Second Vatican Council zealot, a movie
deemed to be anti-semitic by the media at large. What’s more, even
among critics favorable to the movie, it is said to be the bloodiest
two hours in movie making history, hard to watch, and downright
gratuitous. I’m not really in a good place right now, I don’t know if
this is going to help.

Well, let’s just get this thing over
with. At least I am getting out of the house, and I got to see the
Spider-man 2 trailer that’s showing.

As the final movie
credits started rolling, Laura began to feel sick, so I got up to help
her to the lobby. I began to get uncomfortable at the world closing in
around me, like I’d stepped outside naked. I wanted to hide, run away.
I wasn’t ready to leave the darkness of the theater yet. Now, I’m
standing here amongst the popcorn, teenagers, parents, and hustle
bustle of activity. I thrust my hands in my pockets. I felt trapped. I
stepped outside. It was raining torrentially, exaggeratedly. It was a
wall of water. I stood there briefly trying to contain my emotions. I
struggled there uncomfortable, wanting to be alone, so I ran. I stepped
off the curb bursting into tears, and soaked immediately as I made my
way to the car, a quarter mile away or so.

I remembered the
scene in the movie that broke up all the parents in our row. Jesus had
stumbled as the Romans are beating and taunting him. His mother, who
has had trouble facing the whole affair had been hiding on a side
street too distraught to look. She suddenly flashes back to a fall that
her son had suffered at an early age, perhaps 5 years old or so. She
runs to him to pick him up and comfort him, comfort her son who was
hurting. Mommy’s here, don’t cry. She suddenly realizes her place and
rushes to his side. There was not a parent with a dry eye in the house.

We
watched Jesus come to terms with his life, his mission, his vocation.
The movie opens with him pleading to have this burden lifted, why oh
why must it be this way, he asks. Beyond any sort of mystical or
metaphysical possibility of ANYONE being able to lift his burden from
him, was the realization that he was who he was. If he were to run
away, he would not be who he was. He had heard his calling in life and
once heard, there was no other possible course of action. It would be
as if you grew up to be an artist, engineer, politician, leader…
could you be anything but that to which you were called, that which you
knew to be right and natural, that which filled you with passion?

It’s
weird, but there’s nothing religious about this. Christians will say,
"God is calling you. Listen to His will. Do His bidding." What they are
really saying is, "Be true to who you are." Who am I? Well, that
sometimes takes reflection. You’ve got to seek it actively, sometimes
be quiet, sometimes listen to the voices of others, sometimes take
chances, sometimes make decisions. In the end, when you are doing what
you were meant to do, it will feel like love. You just know.

Love
isn’t easy, and neither is vocation, but could I be anything but who I
am? Sure, you may sell out your life, ignore your true vocation, be
moderately happy, and die having been successful, but once you realize
your vocation, your calling, can you ever go back, no matter the cost?

When
Martin Luther King Jr. realized that he had to bring freedom to
America, they told him he was crazy, a trouble maker, stirring things
wrongly. Just relax, play ball, and have a nice fulfilling peaceful
life quiet and tranquil with your life and family. I am sure Martin
Luther King Jr. wished for this at times, worried about his family, his
friends and what he was putting them through. Damnit, why did it have
to be me, I am sure he asked. He was compelled to act, and he knew no
other way to be. He realized his place. It may not have been the path
he would have picked on a multiple choice test, but once he realized
it, that was it.

Laura and I are in Puerto Rico trying to get
a foot-old through Open Source software, trying to reform education,
technology policy, the status quo, and raise two children. Does it make
it any easier to know that there is no other way to be, no other course
of action in which we would be satisfied. If we jumped the tracks, we’d
inevitably find ourselves veering back to this one. As much as we
suffer and struggle, there is no other course of action for us. Why oh
why am I like this? Why couldn’t I have been born a rule follower, a
person satisfied with the way things are? Why oh, why must I attempt to
change things? I cause turmoil both for myself and others. I fail more
often than I succeed. Everything is a struggle. Why did you make me
this way, God?

Jesus pondered that, lamented that a
rollback was an impossibility, but did realize that it was nice to just
vent every once in a while.

The full weight of vocation hit
me during this movie. I think this is the strongest and most important
thing that could possibly come from this, and one that kept playing
over and over to me throughout. It hit me so hard, it knocked me over,
and I lost it for bit. It wasn’t religous, it wasn’t magic.

Jesus
knew what he had to do. Geez, and they crucified him. And he knew it,
and he could have sidestepped it, but he couldn’t, didn’t want to… no
couldn’t, even if he wanted to, because that was who he was.

The Art of War, although often
studied within the business world, is frequently misunderstood
and incorrectly applied by those not versed in the language of war.
I have read two different translations of Sun Tzu’s The Art of
War. It is a fascinating treatise of
what is required to win when losing is not an option. As a military
man, I have studied it not just for its lessons of the battlefield,
but for its gems of wisdom on leadership and the true cost of war. I
didn’t stop there, however. General George S. Patton’s writings have
(after reading Sun Tzu) some amazing similarities.
I don’t know if Patton was a disciple of Sun Tzu or if he arrived at
some of the same conclusions but nonetheless here are examples:

• Sun Tzu: Now, when your weapons
  are dulled, your ardor damped, your strength exhausted and your
  treasure spent, other chieftains will spring up to take advantage of
  your extremity. Then no man, however wise, will be able to avert
  the consequences that must ensue. Thus, though we have heard of
  stupid haste in war, cleverness has never been seen associated with
  long delays.

• Patton: A good solution applied
  with vigor now is better than a perfect solution applied ten minutes
  later.

• Sun Tzu: Do not repeat the tactics
  which have gained you one victory, but let your methods be regulated
  by the infinite variety of circumstances.

• Patton: Good tactics can save even
  the worst strategy. Bad tactics will destroy even the best
  strategy.

There are many similarities in the
philosophies of each, and while Sun Tzu primarily wrote of
battlefield tactics, he also has some to say about leadership and
discipline, moving men, and accomplishing goals.

Patton’s writings incorporate much of
Sun Tzu, but diverge a bit from the minutia
of battlefield tactics from the pithy "Go forward!" to the
sublime "It’s the unconquerable soul of man and not the nature
of the weapon he uses, that ensures victory."

The modern William Edwards Demming and
Walter A. Shewhart took these tenants and expanded upon then further,
creating their revolution in quality control during WWII and beyond.
"Create constancy of purpose toward improvement of product and
service." "Cease dependence on mass inspection to achieve
quality." "Drive out fear."

Then came another student, by the name
of Jack Welch, CEO of GE. Almost, a modern day Patton in the
boardroom, he transformed the culture of GE from bloated,
bureaucratic, and slow moving to an empowering,
nimble entity where every employee was an agent for change with
responsibilities and authority.

If Sun Tzu could be summed up into one
word it would be "deception."

Patton would be "action."

Demming is "purpose."

Welch is "transformation."

Each of these great leaders and
tacticians built upon the last, grew, learned, adapted, bettered.
They used the tools they had at hand to accomplish the mission. I
would hope that humanity has learned something in over 2000 years,
but all too often, today’s upwardly mobile disciples of Sun Tzu’s
great meta-tactics of conquest and destruction apply his teaching of
deception to the widest possible swath. The Art of War is a
square peg in a round hole. The Art of War does not lead to
victory in the corporate world, and I will tell you why.

You can see Sun Tzu at work all around
in today’s society. Business is war. Co-workers quietly focus their
ambitions on upward mobility, concealing their movements within the
company as they maneuver their way into an
advantageous position. Whether intentional or not, much of reality
TV draws on Sun Tzu’s teachings of misdirection and deception. If
you are weak, appear strong. If you are strong appear weak. More or
less if you are on an episode of survivor, and you are strong, that
is, if you have the advantage, hide it. Keep it secret. Do not let
your enemy know you have such power. If you are weak, you must be
careful not to let your enemy know. You must study your enemy and
trick him into error. Get him reacting to you instead of seizing the
advantage you know he has.

This works on reality TV. It is always
the most deceptive person, the one who disguises his true intentions
until the last possible instant. This is the person that convinces
his adversaries up is down, black is white, and advantage is
disadvantage. This is the person that wins, not the most likable,
not the smartest, not the strongest. The person that wins is
generally not the one with the obvious assets. In fact, it could be
the fat weird abrasive gay guy. The winner is the one that most
convincingly hides his true face, obfuscates
his inner strategy, and conceals his movements with rigorous
discipline.

Deception is fine, when the goal is
victory in an adversarial arena. That is, there is really nothing
collaborative about reality TV. Sure, the producers will give the
group some common task in which they need to cooperate, but it’s
really just for the fun of the viewer. Make no bones about it, these
shows are war, everybody looking for advantage at every possible
moment. Reality it is not, at least no reality in which I would want
to live.

The real shame is that we see that Sun
Tzu thrives in this arena, and we attempt to apply it to the world in
which we live and breath. We say to our young children, "What
you see on TV is only make believe." And "Don’t try this at
home." As adults we should know that Coyote could never operate
as he does and expect to succeed.

Yet we fail to see that Sun Tzu is
ill-suited to the real world, in fact, as Gen Patton found out, not
wanted either. Within the confines of business and society, we
actually hurt society by focusing on "winning at all costs,"
deceiving our co-workers while we maneuver for position in the
corporate structure, furthering our personal ambitions to the
exclusion of others or the wellness of the company (think Enron,
Worldcom).

They say, "Well, that’s the real
world, folks. If you can’t handle it stay at home, and leave
business to the big boys, " and they will puff themselves up
like a little male lizard flaring its neck up for an appearance of
formability. You play warrior, but warrior
you are not. You would treat your fellows as adversaries, pretended
foes upon whom to project your energies. You deceive, because you
seek your prize. You seek your victory. You seek your fortune, like
a great warrior predator strutting upon the grassy safari, beholden
to no one, dependent upon no one, answering to no one.

Now, pardon me if I burst your bubble,
but that is NOT "the real world." The little lizard world,
I described is a world divorced of humanity, the savage world of the
animal kingdom, the horrendous world of war and violence. Human
beings have evolved to be cooperative creatures. We didn’t get
speed. We didn’t get strength. We didn’t get size, or a short
gestation period, or quick maturation, or flight, or or or. We got
shafted in every possible way according to the laws of nature as we
see them, as Sun Tzu saw them. We need each other for even the most
basic of necessities.

We did get one thing, though, that sets
us apart, on the top, at the crest of the wave of life, the pinnacle.
We got love. Love calls us to others’ needs, love inspires us to
help rather than hurt. Love is compassion, empathy. Love is what
takes away personal fear and allows us to trust, allows us to work
together for a common goal.

Reality TV is an perversion of our
natural social order, an order where we should collaborate rather
than compete, an order where our goals are mutual rather than
individual. Love is not to be about individual satisfaction,
gratification, or needs. It is not about you, just as people are not
just put here on earth for you. The sooner you realize that Sun Tzu
was the master of being successful in an aberrated world, the master
of hell, guru of a perverted state, the less you will attempt to
apply his principles to this world of creation and potential.

For if it is in this pit of fire where
you reach your potential, where you find success, then it will
spread, it will consume those not strong enough to resist its flames.
If you become master of the flames, you damn humanity, your
children, your fellows to the same torment. The weak shall be
consumed, and you will say to them, "you were not strong
enough." A thousand souls will lay scattered upon the landscape
in various states of starvation and despair. A few tens will
survive, wild-eyed fearless, standing defiant amidst
the flames. To survive in this world they have had to give up their
humanity, leave their compassion behind, to stand finally alone with
nary a soul to raise a cup of water to their burning lips. In the
end, they shall finish their days alone, kept from the banquet to writhe
in the street wailing and gnashing their teeth.

To me, it’s all those people in the middle saying, "Look, I don’t
know. Sometimes the idea of a creator seems so ludicrous and other
times so right. I don’t know. I don’t really believe, but neither do I
disbelieve." Then after some thought and perhaps years of struggle,
they realize. "You know what, it really doesn’t matter. I will live my
life. I will be kind to others. I will try to leave my space better
than I came into it. I will try to ease the suffering of others. I will
make a difference here and now… and I WON’T do it just because I will
get into heaven(if such a place exists). And I won’t not do wrong, not
because I DON’T want to go to hell (or other such nonesense)…. but
because, and here comes the revelation… because we are ALL here
together going through this thing called life. We all hurt. We all cry.
It’s difficult. We are all lost and fearful, and if we stick together
we just might be okay.