To be a pilgrim

I’ve been wanting to follow on from my last—that first attempt at publishing an audio-visual blog, thereby attempting to capture the essence of the moment in a candid and spontaneous way. Now on reflection I rather think that the audio-visual part, as well as being unfeasibly time-consuming, was largely irrelevant, and could beneficially be stripped away. The unedited observations came out incoherently, and further attempts I’ve made since were muffled by street-noise. It’s the process of selection, refinement and polishing which best shows the beauty of a stone, or the clarity of a thought. So I’d like to continue, with regular reporting, in this process of being aware of consciousness. It has to be regular, since no two days are the same: indeed consciousness can change by the moment.

I went into town yesterday, on foot of course, it’s the only sensible way. It’s a walk in the opposite direction anyhow to where I’ve parked the car, and then it would have to be parked in town. In fact I live in town. Nothing is more than fifteen or twenty minutes away. And when I get too old for that, I can hop on a bus. On the way I recorded some observations, here presented in no particular order and duly edited. In any case I haven’t got used to the new Olympus yet and chatted away to it several times when it wasn’t actually switched on.

I found myself full of hesitancy (? hesitance . . . hesitation?—what is the word?), just as in my previous post, where I couldn’t decide about changing a light-switch. I can spend an entire day dithering, not sure what to do. I went to the bank, hoping to sort something out there, but no one in the building had enough knowledge. This seemed so outrageous that I let go of my dithering and told them, in words hardly more polite, to get lost, as I’d go to another bank. Decided on Santander. At least I knew where it was, but then found the windows were all blanked out with paper, as if they had “done a runner” as the Cockneys would say. Is there a trustworthy bank any more? A small sign on the door said it was being refurbished, and gave the address of temporary premises on Oxford Road, so I set forth, but couldn’t see it anywhere. As I dithered, a man, who clearly wasn’t from round here, in fact I imagined him as a recent illegal immigrant, asked politely if I could help him. I couldn’t understand what he said but then he showed a cut-up piece of card with “Barclays Bank” written on. “I don’t know,” I replied, “I’m looking for a bank too!” I who have lived in this town since 1988. As I crossed the street I thought yet again how my anecdotes so often appear allegorical. It was Joe Perfecto who put that idea into my head, in relation to a few blog posts. Yes, I’m on an allegorical quest, like Christian in The Pilgrim’s Progress. You don’t have to be a Christian to be a pilgrim. And perhaps most Christians these days don’t see themselves as pilgrims . Well, I don’t know what they see themselves as. On the primrose path perhaps. I just looked that up, in case it comes from Bunyan’s book. No, it is from a speech in Hamlet. And when I did find the bank I realized I’d passed it twice already that day before I’d decided to look for it. Another alleged allegory, by a notorious alleger (? allegator?)

Today has been different. I’ve focused on what I’m doing, moment to moment and it’s pretty much sorted out that hesitancy. Part of the problem yesterday was trying to define “disinterestedness” whilst on my errands in town, thus being abstracted from being disinterested in the present moment. A friend told me she couldn’t get it, the meaning, and I wasn’t too clear myself, especially as it’s something you don’t see much of these days, out in the world. It’s assumed everyone has to take sides. Democracy is based on that. Vote for A or B. Justice is based on that. Guilty or Innocent? There are protests in Ferguson, Missouri. Am I on the side of the police or the protestors? And what about Gaza? These are perfect illustrations of what I suggested in my last, that “disinterestedness” is a better word than “detachment” for translating Meister Eckhart’s abgescheidenheit. It was pretty much impossible to be detached from the Gaza business, and all the other things

So how would I explain “disinterestedness”? I thought of the situation at the beginning of a court case, in which judge and jury have not yet heard the evidence. Their attitude ought, and indeed must for the sake of justice be one of disinterest, that is to say without bias or prejudice, so that they can listen to the proceedings starting from a clean sheet of no information. When you think about it, this gives them the best chance of giving the matter their intense concentration. Try telling someone about what they ‘know already’. Will they listen? No, their attention will filter the input: “Does this agree with what I know? Or does it contradict what I know?” Thereafter the analogy breaks down of course because the judge and jury are there to form judgements. What Eckhart proposes is that we don’t do that, ever.

It’s hard to imagine disinterestedness. The world is going the other way. People protest because they, by some strange means, ‘know’ the rights and wrongs of any situation. Well, I do. I too am pretty sure about what’s wrong in Gaza, and I’ve spent time fruitlessly growling about it to myself. What we ‘know’ comes from our emotions, which make us so certain of the situation that we may be prepared to perform drastic and regrettable actions based on that certainty. And then we have the modern types, the scientists, humanists, atheists & others who think it is possible to ameliorate the world through evidence-based rationality. To them, the possibility of this better world is hampered by the beliefs, superstitions and unrestrained emotionality of those who are not like them. They have laudable plans for better education, more equality, economic progress, democracy, child care and so forth—laudable aims. Are they right? I have my prejudices on most subjects under the sun, but I don’t know, except emotionally. I am a beginner in this disinterestedness pilgrimage. I can just about spell it but there again, I’m not sure.

Disinterestedness: to apply not-knowing to everything. To do this you have to stop in your tracks, stop getting het-up, as if that were a virtuous thing in itself (“righteous anger”). And in the case of Gaza, Ferguson Missouri, Eastern Ukraine and parts of Iraq, what does a little disinteredness show us? That when people pursue principles and judgements, such as who is innocent and who not, who the land belongs to, who must be punished and so on; when they pursue these principles and judgements with disregard for the ordinary decencies of respecting others as if they are your own family, then people get hurt, and there is no limit to the destruction and violence that may result.

There is a time to get het up, of course, and that’s when the awfulness of what happens is so close that you can actually do something about it, or so close that you must do something about it.

As for the rest, we are being wound up and manipulated, and the infection is not just out there. It is embedded in us. The infection has taken root, and what’s worse, has become culturally mandated. You’re a cold fish if you are seen not to care.

To follow this path of disinterestedness, so strongly advocated by Eckhart, and make the effort of preparations, without waiting for any “infusion of grace” (see quotes in my last), we have to be ready to stand alone, and resist the prevailing currents. And I must overcome my hesitancy (hesitance . . . habit of hesitation?) and focus on the task in hand.