Of PARADOXES AND METAPHORS

Also See: Excerpt, Endorsements, and Purchase Information

TABLE OF CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE—PARADOXES, METAPHORS, AND LESSONS, AN INTRODUCTION

CHAPTER TWO—FROM WHENCE A PARADOX?
The Eternal Trio
Darkness
Silence
Emptiness

Then a Thought
And an Idea
The First Pet
The First Utensil to Hold Water
The First Garden
The First Ditch
The Synergy
Finally a Paradox

CHAPTER THREE—A COLLECTION OF PARADOXES, METAPHORS, AND LESSONS
Eternity and Time
Eternity And The Banishment Of Fear
Eternity And Peace
Eternal Relationship
We are Alone
In an Evolutionary Sense
In a Familial Sense
In an Individual Sense
In the Unity of Life and Death
Choice, the Eternal Requirement
Interpreting an Event
Of Knowledge and Ignorance
Knowledge is Relative
What Treasure in the Land of Ignorance!
When Is "Truth" Really The Truth?
Change is Eternal Becoming
Nature is Neutral
We Place Value on Outcomes
Our Eternal Moment
Nothing is Totally Reversible
Attachment to Expectations
The Enigma of Control
What Measure Freedom?
Giving Versus Receiving
From Reason to Chaos and Back Again
The Shape of Our Thinking
The Universal Circle
Misty Mountain's Cycle
One Douglas-Fir's Cycle
The Salmon's Cycle
The Second Douglas-Fir's Cycle
Convergence In The Cycle Of Two Firs
The Proverbial "What Ifs"
Cyclical Thinking
Linear Thinking
Understanding The "Thought Paradox" of Our Time
Everything Has Its Tradoff
Appearance and Reality
Slower is Often Faster
Killing, the Inescapable Necessity of Life
Competition and the Ultimate Prize
Lessons In Lifestyle From The Hunter-Gatherers
Prejudice
"Rights" by Whose Definition?
Commandeering Language
Finding Contentment in Our Anti-Contentment Society
The Illusion of Equality and Justice
Acceptance versus Tolerance
If Everyone's Right, Who's Wrong?
History as Teacher (Purchase Information)

Excerpt:

OF PARADOXES AND METAPORS:
Understanding Some of Life's Lessons
by

Chris Maser

CHAPTER ONE—PARADOXES, METAPHORS, AND LESSONS, AN INTRODUCTION

If I understand—what is, is. If I don't understand—what is, is.
Zen proverb

Over the years, I have come to the conclusion that life, as an idea, is a gigantic paradox composed of paradoxes, and the purpose of life is to understand the paradoxes and to put oneself in accord with them. To put ourselves in accord with life's paradoxes, we must daily interpret the unfolding of our never-ending story because we are, in a sense, spiritual detectives charged with finding, understanding, accepting, and living the highest Truths of Universal Governance—Truths secreted within the unity of each paradox.
I have therefore titled this book, Of Paradoxes and Metaphors: Understanding Some of Life's Lessons, because the expression of our human awareness is based on words, those metaphorical symbols whereby we give recognition to our interactions with life. A word, even a string of words, like beads on a necklace, no matter how well crafted, is still an approximation of an experience based on the symbology of language. Nevertheless, language is the portal through which we approach an experience, but without the ability to grasp its totality because the rigid boundaries of language are an absolute barrier to expression beyond the appearance of what is. This "No Trespassing" sign, as it were, defines the boundary of the Transcendent Mystery, which is simultaneously beyond our comprehension and within our experience.
As I am write this book, I realize that each book I have written is the outer manifestation of my inner journey, a glimpsed unfolding of the never-ending story of my life. To gain a sense of where I have come from and where I might be going, I have revisited the pages of my life over the last quarter century in a sort of animated editorial to select and update what I think I have learned about life's paradoxes and lessons, as expressed through the metaphor of language sandwiched between the covers of my various books. The book you are holding is an accounting of my efforts.
Despite the expressive freedom and exasperating limitations of language, I have often wondered why humanity seems to learn so little from history, why youth thinks itself invincible, and why I have been so incredibly blind to many of life's little nudges toward a higher consciousness of cause and effect. Of late, as the count of my years passes well the mid-heavens of my sixties, I have reach a greater height from which to survey the terrain of my inner landscape, and I find the view clearer than in the lower elevation of my younger years. It's from this vantage of greater experience that I see a story emerge from the distant land of memory, a story about a Chinese priest in search of the "Book of Knowledge."
The priest had spent his entire adult life fighting dragons, thieves, armies, and demons of every kind that seemed to block his path to the "Book of Knowledge," a path he followed without knowing where it led. Finally, after years of struggle, he found himself at the edge of a great sea, and there, high atop a lava pinnacle, was a monastery.
With the last of his strength, for he was now very old and very tired, he climbed the narrow, winding stairs to the monastery, where a monk greeted him and bade him enter. The monk then told him to rest, for his way had been long and arduous.
When the priest was rested, the monk came to him and said: "You have traveled from afar to this monastery following a path that led you knew not where. In so doing, you have shown the strength of your faith through obedience to that which has guided you from within, and your courage has been well tested along the way. I am the keeper of the 'Book of Knowledge.' Having proven yourself worthy, I give you permission to look within."
The old priest looked at him and asked: "And what shall I find?"
Whereupon the monk replied: "Only what you bring with you. Only what you take with you."
That said, the old priest opened the long-awaited Book and found within a mirror, and the reflected image of his own face. And within that reflection was all knowledge contained, for it revealed the relative wisdom of what he had learned and thus become as a result of his trials, inner struggles, and the choices he had made along the way.
He saw, for instance, the moment in his life when he learned that discrimination of choice determines the path one's feet are destined to walk. He saw the far-distant circumstance in which he had learned that a life without desires is the key to freedom from the prison cell of materialism's continual temptations and discontent. He saw, by contemplating the cumulative events of his life, that good conduct is the sole responsibility of the individual traveler, and is not dependent on the behavior of another.
He suddenly understood that all the demons along his path were only distortions in the house of mirrors, those disowned parts of himself that lived in the shadowland of his ego. All these precious years he had been washing the window of his soul on the outside, while the dirt he most wanted to remove was on the inside. He suddenly understood that wisdom can neither be taught nor given away, that wisdom, the distillation of life's experiences, must be earned; and that unconditional love, which asks nothing, overcomes all obstacles.
He slowly closed the Book, with ever-so-slight a sigh, and reconciled himself to the fact that the sacred Book was in reality a mirror reflecting the opportunities and the choices he had made along his journey of incarnation, as well as the lessons he had learned—lessons presented to him by the Lords of Karma. In retrospect, he saw within the great Book the sum of his living and realized that he was, in the end, alone with his experience of life.
Today, I realize that the Priest and I are one. I say this because one, long-ago night, when I was eight years old, I stood gazing at the stars of the Milky Way and realized deep within the core of my being that I was alone in the universe, totally alone—and that it was okay. I knew, beyond a doubt, the universe would take care of me, and thus knowing, felt myself an inexorable, inseparable part of its flow and ebb, its Eternal Mystery. And now, having been graced with an infinitesimal peek inside my own "Book of Knowledge," I think I'm beginning to understand the connotative essence of the Eternal Mystery in living: Life is a paradox composed of paradoxes—much like a box with a smaller box inside it, with a smaller box inside it, with a smaller box inside it, ad infinitum, as well as a bigger box outside of it, and a bigger box outside of it, and a bigger box outside of it, ad infinitum. I cannot explain why it is this way. It just is.
This said, I now find myself in the gateway to the "eternal present," that reality beyond time, which transcends the material world humanity deems its domain. Only when I stand in the threshold of the ineffable present, the reality between the illusions of past and future, can I participate fully with life.
I say "ineffable" present because the gateway is like sitting alongside a large river of mild current in which that part of the river immediately in front of me represents the eternal present, that which flows towards me a dream, and that which is already by me a memory. There is no stopping the flow of the river, just as there is no past or future, only the fluidity of the present moment—the Tao, the Chinese gateway of eternity. The ancient Greeks also knew the gateway, but by another name: Paradoxos, which means "unbelievable. "
A paradox is a statement that seems contradictory, but when understood, expresses a truth that illuminates the humor embodied in the "essential truths" of the Transcendent Mystery of the universe. Here, it is reasonable to ask how one might gain an intellectual image of a paradox.
Paradoxes are the windows of the soul. I say this because life's paradoxes are a "double vision" of sorts, like peering out of a house through a pane of glass. Through the window we see objects that lie outside the house and simultaneously reflections of things that lie within. And the glass, through which we peer, at once transparent and reflective, represents the unity of the Transcendent Mystery, whereas the view without and the reflection within represent the pair of opposites that comprise our intellectual understanding of the material world. Consider the poem by French philosopher Simone Weil:

We see either the dust on the window
or the view beyond the window,
but never the window itself.

Similarly, we can observe the workings of the outer world of Nature through physics and biology while at the same time Nature reflects back to us the inner workings and images of our own psychological maturity. This phenomenon is perhaps most clearly illustrated in the night sky, where stars and constellations bear names and images of our mythological heritage, while concurrently serving as an entry into the scientific understanding of the biophysical Universe. With this intellectual view of our world, you might wonder how can we every "see" a unified whole. ...

CHAPTER TWO—FROM WHENCE A PARADOX?

First darkness, silence, and emptiness, that a thought, then a word, then an idea, and finally a paradox through which reality reveals itself.

The book you are holding has within its covers the collective gift of millions of minds and hearts reaching back into the millennia, to the first word utter by the first hominid. This gift of human understanding and emotions archive as a written language, represents the never-ending stories of every human being who ever lived and asked: Who am I? Where did I come from? Where am I going? What value do I have? What is the meaning, the purpose of life?
We, today, ask these same questions. If, therefore, you find within the following pages a glimmer of understanding or "hear" an inner "Ah so," my attempt to share with you a little of the beauty and wonder I find in life will be fulfilled.

The Eternal Trio
In the beginning there reigned supreme the eternal trio: Darkness, Silence, and Emptiness. Some people might think collectively of these three as the "void, " or, as the Buddhists might collectively term them, the "Nothing" from which everything comes and into which everything returns.

Darkness

According to Christian tradition, "...darkness was upon the face of the deep. ..." And God said, "Let there be light: and there was light, " but the light of what—the first star?

Ever since light first challenged the eternal reign of darkness, there has been a cosmic dance between darkness and light, light and darkness-as one waxes while the other wanes and vice verse. Yet even in the brightest of days, an object blocking the sun's rays casts a teasing shadow of eternal darkness. These shadows, be they of an immovable boulder, a proud human, a humble mouse, a swaying flower, a flitting butterfly, or a traveling cloud are to remind us that when the sun at last burns itself into oblivion, eternal darkness shall once again prevail and the Earth shall become a barren and frozen land enveloped in endless night.
When, I wonder, did the first hominid consciously connect the night sky with the portal of wonder and a sense of connectedness with the cosmos enveloping Earth? When did the first human create the first story to be immortalized in the constellations of eternal night? When did the portal of wonder, illuminated by the countless points of light in the back vault of night's heaven, become the entrance to untold possibilities entrusted to the growing consciousness of humanity? When was the first myth, the chronicle of humanity's journey of self-discovery, entrusted to the stars as an archived of light in eternal darkness? When was the cosmic dance of darkness and light fragmented into opposites in the human psyche? When, I wonder, did the first hominid consciously connect "good" with the light of day and "evil" with the darkness of night?
This single idea, and the psychological ramifications it spawned, has divided humanity against itself in an ever-unfolding story of judgment and violence that continues to reverberate throughout the world. The "characters" within the story have familiar names, the juxtaposition of which all point to a single plot of perceived duality: light versus darkness, good versus evil, right versus wrong, us versus them. The irony is that of every religion created in the light of this set of dualities seems to spend the majority of its time fighting, with word and sword, over which is the most peaceful.
After all, the above sets of dualities owe their being to the simple concept of intellectual agreement or disagreement. In this sense, all agreements and disagreements are figments of human imagination—not the reality of what is.
Despite the seemingly incessant conflicts, which owe their engagement to this perceived duality, there was a time in the 1940s and 1950s when the night sky surrounded my hometown with the light of a million stars. In those days, the Milky Way was clearly visible from almost everywhere I stood, but no more. Now, only the brightest stars can be seen, even on the darkest of nights, because humanities fear of the dark has proliferated ever-stronger and more reliable artificial lights. Thus, we, in the industrialized parts of the world, are losing the only entrance into the universe that can be seen from every location on the surface of the Earth as part of the global commons—which is the birthright of every human being.
...
Without darkness, could light exist? After all, each is but a degree of the other. Only through the unity of darkness, light, and the varying shadows in between can the universe exist—and us with it. As it is with darkness and light, so it is with silence and sound.

Silence

Without silence, there would be no sound because nothing can exist without its apparent opposite to act as a mirror in which to know its reflection.

Without silence, no sound is possible. Conversely, without sound, silence could not be recognized for itself. I have experienced the eternal silence while camping in the deep snows of winter high in the Cascade Mountains of Oregon, while rescuing cattle stuck in deep snow high in a Rocky-Mountain winter of northwestern Colorado, and in the Nubian Desert of Egypt. Silence on a still day in deep winter in the high country is so profound that, as a young man, I not only could "hear" it but also the "swishing" sound snowflakes made as they fell through it. In the Nubian Desert, on the other hand, there was nothing on a still day to rupture the silence—not the slightest sound could I detect, no matter how hard I stained my ears to hear.
Had I not experienced the Eternal Silence, would it exist for me? Would I recognize it in our increasingly noisy world? Hence the age-old question: If a tree falls in the forest and there is no one to hear it, does it make a sound? Of course it does because mice hear it, and squirrels hear it, as do the creatures living below ground that feel the vibrations it sends through the soil as it strikes the Earth. I would, therefore, rephrase the question thusly: If a tree falls in the forest and there is nothing to hear it or feel the impact of its falling, does it make a sound? Vibrations are, after all, the essence of sound. This being the case, one might ask: What is the essence of eternal silence, if not the absence of audible vibrations in eternal emptiness?
This question reminds me of something I was told during the winter I lived in Fairbanks, Alaska. Namely, that, were I alone in the forest, I could not hear what I said out loud in winter because it was so cold (often fifty degrees below zero Fahrenheit) my words would freeze as they were uttered. But, should I be around in the spring, when the words thawed out, then I could finally hear what I had said months earlier.
As one basis of the universe is eternal silence out of which all sound comes and into which all sound returns, so another is eternal emptiness out of which all form comes and into which all form returns. To understand what I mean, consider a glass ball.

Emptiness

Without emptiness, form could not exist; without form, emptiness would not know itself and thus would not exist.

In the beginning, there is sand, which is composed of silicates and calcium carbonate. When the sand is melted at very high temperatures, the elements fuse and form glass. If a glassblower than fills a glob of molten glass with air by blowing into it through a hollow tube, the glass expands to form whatever shape the glassblower chooses to create. However, as the glass expands into its predetermined shape, it "pushes" against the emptiness of space without even as that selfsame emptiness "fills" it within, which allows the glass to hold its shape when it cools.
If, therefore, a glassblower fills molten glass with air, creating a glass ball, and leaves the hollow tube in place while the glass is still molten, the ball will collapse inward on itself because the pressure of the emptiness of space without is greater than that within. But if the glassblower seals the hole, the emptiness within the molten glass ball is trapped and will cause the ball to hold its form as it cools into a solid shape—despite the pressure from the emptiness without.
Now, if we consider a vase, which is open at one end in order to hold water and flowers, the unity of eternal emptiness is uninterrupted in its flow within and without the vase. On the other hand, eternal emptiness may at times be restricted within the vase by filling it with water, only to be restored when the vase is emptied and once again filled with eternal emptiness, that which gives the vase its form. Here, the paradox is that only the presence of eternal emptiness can give the vase form and thereby hold its shape. So it is that all form arises from eternal emptiness, is sustained by it, and returns to it.
In the thinking of German poet Johann W. von Goethe, emptiness has an invisible power from which patterns emerge, much as a vase on a potter's wheel forms itself around the active presence of a hollow, without which the vase could not exist. The vase, the external shell of a specifically shaped void, holds emptiness within itself. From India, the Heart Sutra:

... form is no other than emptiness,
Emptiness is no other than form;
Form is exactly emptiness, emptiness exactly form,
... all phenomena are emptiness/form.

THEN A THOUGHT

Without sound, words could not exist. Without worlds, abstract thought could not exist. Without abstract thought, meaning and experience in the form of knowledge could not exist. Without knowledge, an idea could not exist. Without an idea, humanity could not pollute the Earth. Without knowledge, humanity could not create that which is unreal.

As I mull over the probable events that led to our modern, human languages, it occurs to me that all words are the names of things, be it a touchable entity (a flower, animal, or tool—each a noun); a definition of quantifiably time (a second, an hour, today, yesterday, tomorrow, next year—each a noun); an action (do, run, sit, speak—each a verb); or something that qualities something else (pretty, ugly, hairy, large, small, fast, slow—each an adjective), in time (now, earlier, later—each an adverb), and as a degree (very, exceedingly, little, much—each an adverb or an adjective). Put differently, words define the mental boundaries of our perceptions. When we speak, therefore, we are attempting to transfer boundaries of meaning attached to names of things, time, actions, and qualifiers, which is like trying to fence a portion of the sky.

...

Although many people believe words carry meaning in much the same way as a person transports an armful of wood or a pail of water from one place to another, words never carry precisely the same meaning from the mind of the sender to that of the receiver. In this sense, language, in its fullest experience, is so much more than mute scratches on paper or computer screens.
Words are vehicles of perceptive meaning. They may or may not supply emotional meaning as well. The nature of the response is determined by the receiver's past experiences surrounding the word and the feelings it evokes. Hence, the lack of a common experience or frame of reference is probably the greatest, single barrier to mutual understanding.
Feelings grant a word meaning, which is in the receiver's mind, but not in the word itself. Since a common frame of reference is basic to communication, words are meaningless in and of themselves. Meaning is engendered when words are somehow linked to one or more shared experiences between the sender and the receiver, albeit the experiences may be interpreted differently. Words are thus merely symbolic representations that correspond to anything people apply the symbol to—objects, experiences, or feelings.

CHAPTER THREE—A COLLECTION OF PARADOXES, METAPHORS, AND LESSONS

Hold fast to dreams, for without them we are like birds with broken wings.

Chinese proverb

I will, from here on, share some of the paradoxes, metaphors, and lessons I have found in life-a trove of infinite becoming, the heart of novelty and wonder that brings to consciousness the Eternal Mystery. Although one paradox, metaphor, or lesson is equal in its important than another, I shall, to be best of my ability, arrange them in a semblance of logical order, beginning with the notion of eternity and time.

ETERNITY AND TIME

Reality is beyond time because all that is real exists in the here and now-the eternal moment, which itself is beyond time.
Somewhere in the far memory of human evolution, the notion of repetitive cycles, such as the lunar cycle and the changing seasons, melded into an intellectual concept of predictability, which, in turn, gave birth to the concept of time. While early humans clearly honored life's visibly repetitive cycles in the spiritual realm of the eternal moment, the people simultaneously created a discernable concept of past and future by learning how to measure, keep track of, and use the repetition of these cycles in planning their collective activities.
As humanity became more sophisticated, in an intellectual sense, the flow of play and work, which initially formed a seamless way of life, became divided into separate entities ensconces in time by tracking the sun's journey across the sky. During the sun's daily sojourn, people became engaged in "productive " activities, the results of which were used to measure their personal value in and to the group. So it is that time, as an artificial construct, is the invisible creation whereby humanity fragmented eternity—a fragmentation wherein we are now and forever entrapped. ...

HISTORY AS TEACHER

History is a kaleidoscopic interpretation of events based on the irreversibility of change as a benchmark in the illusion of time. As such, history is an unprovable, interpretive perception of a multifaceted, unknowable event.
Winston Churchill, speaking to the British Parliament in 1935, as he saw with clear foreboding the onrushing threat of Nazi Germany and World War II, said:

When the situation was manageable it was neglected, and now that it is thoroughly out of hand we apply too late the remedies which then might have affected a cure. There is nothing new in the story. ... It falls into that long, dismal catalogue of the fruitlessness of experience and the confirmed unteachability of mankind. Want of foresight, unwillingness to act when action would be simple and effective, lack of clear thinking, confusion of counsel until the emergency comes, until self-preservation strikes its jarring gong—these are the features which constitute the endless repetition of history.

Why, I have often wondered, are we humans so reticent to learning? Why have we made the same mistakes over and over and over again throughout the centuries when history is replete with the same outcomes from the same the decisions made in earlier times? How much of Nature's wealth must we destroy, and future generations lose, through our informed denial, despite overwhelming evidence that our current behavior is continuing to cause precipitous, negative changes to our life-support systems? How long must we persist in error until we are humbled enough to admit to —and be accountable for —our transgressions?
We, the adults of the world, blame those younger than ourselves for their transgressions, forgetting that youth learns through experience, as do we. Here, I submit, we are at least partly to blame, for I've often heard adults tell their children: "Do as I say, not as I do." Children, however, like the young of many species, learn by copying what their parents do, but not through instruction in the form of verbal metaphors.
In this sense, I suspect, entire generations, acting in unison, are analogous to individual youths. Thinking back to my own youth, I both marvel and shutter to realize how blind I was to the outworking of cause and effect, to the needless pain and suffering I am accountable for because I lacked the concrete lessons of life's experience. And herein, I suspect, lies the problem.
Without firsthand experience of behavioral cause and effect, the lessons of history are abstractions for which we have no personal frame of reference in the eternal moment whereby to transform them into concrete examples. Unfortunately, we gain our concrete examples by making the same mistakes as those who went before us—thereby reaping the same consequences. We then learn in hindsight, provided, that is, we read history.
There is, however, another theme at play here—namely, the proclivity of youth to feel itself invincible due to the selfsame lack of life's experiences. To youth, whatever is bad will happen to someone else or somewhere else, but not to me and not here, not now. Nevertheless, an increasing number of young folks want to restore parts of the Earth to the conditions of an earlier time, which is impossible. While one can visit a given location on more than one occasion, each visit is new and different because the eternal moment, wherein we sojourn, is governed by the novelty of constant change, which precludes the possibility of a life's "rerun" within the illusion of times past.
Only when our Earthly pilgrimage has been long enough that the creep of age brings forth our mortality, and thus causes us to turn the searchlight inward, do we begin to distill experience into wisdom. At that point, the overriding precept of age instructs that wisdom can neither be taught nor given away. It must be earned by fully engaging life.
This said, there is yet another theme interwoven into the eternal moment, that of continual change not only in the quantitative circumstances wherein we find ourselves but also in the qualitative circumstances. By quantitative circumstances, I am alluding to the dramatic change in the world's human population.
Until the lessons of history are consciously taught through current examples within a contemporary context, nothing will be learned and carried forward. Moreover, one is prepared to accept wisdom only when it becomes apparent that a grain of sand in one's shoe is a greater impediment to the inward journey that any other circumstance ever could be. In this case, the grain of sand represents pride, which makes one blind to one's own blindness, ignorant of one's own ignorance, and absolutely sure on one's own knowledge—the blinding folly that is destroying our magnificent home planet suspended, as it is, so miraculously in space. Is there no way out of this pending folly?
Of course there's a way out because every decision we make is based on choice. Therefore, if we err, we can always choose to choose again. However, the latchstring to a wise choice is humility, whereas the padlock to an imprudent decision is pride. How shall we choose, when all we have is the eternal moment—here, now? (Purchase Information)

Endorsements:
"A child of nature turned scientist, Chris Maser, is a modern day transcendentalist. In his book Of Paradoxes and Metaphors: Understanding Some of Life's Lessons, he leads us in a gentle spiral of stories, experiences, and observations. Maser looks at our world through relationships personal and global. His questions for the Great Mystery spring from interactions within the human web. He nudges us to our own questions for the Universe, which will point each of us toward our own truth, and asks us to have the courage and humility to find that truth."—Linda Saurenman, Los Angeles, CA.
"Mesmerizing. Reading Of Paradoxes and Metaphors is like sitting around a campfire, listening to the wisdom of the ages as shared through the stories of a dear, wise friend and mentor. Through reflections on his own life, Chris Maser provokes the reader's reflection on her or his life-stories and, ultimately, the mystery and wonder of being human. That process is both calming and challenging because it leads to the truth that, ultimately, we are each solely accountable for how we respond to and experience our time on this Earth. Fully understanding and embracing that responsibility forces us to give up the "comfort" of blame, self-pity, anger, and other aspects of being a victim. The joy is the rediscovery of the knowledge that lies within us … that life is unfolding in each moment, and we have the power to respond in the manner we choose."—Jennifer Griffin-Wiesner, Minneapolis, MN. (Top of Page)

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