Although not always expressed the same way, here is an idea I heard reference to from time to time through the years I lived in Japan:
The Zen Perspective
The words above are attributed to
Suzuki Shunryu, a Zen monk and teacher who helped popularize Zen Buddhism in
the United States. In 1962 Suzuki (1904~71) founded the San Francisco Zen
Center, which was the first Zen monastery outside Asia.
Suzuki was also the author of Zen
Mind, Beginner’s Mind, and last year the 50th anniversary
edition of that book was published.
Fifty years ago when I first heard the
idea encapsulated in Suzuki’s words, I didn’t know they were rooted in a Zen
concept. But perhaps that helps explain the use made of koans in Zen. To
understand one thing, such as a koan, leads to satori (enlightenment),
that is, understanding everything.
Granted, there are lingering problems
here; still, it is an interesting perspective.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s
Perspective
I have long liked, and often quoted, the widely known words of poet Elizabeth Barrett Browning:
Seeing depth, or transcendence, in the ordinary is what Barrett Browning was emphasizing, and that is likely
true for Suzuki also. The problem, and shame, is that there are so many who are
content to just pluck blackberries, never seeing more than the obvious.
In this connection, I
recently happened to read this important statement by Henri Nouwen: “. . . the whole of nature is a sacrament pointing to a reality far beyond itself” (Seeds
of Hope, 1989, p. 100). Unfortunately, so many people don’t see the
sacramental nature of the universe.
When we don’t fully see/understand
“one thing,” we are unable to see/understand “everything.”
Gifty’s Perspective
Originally, I planned
to write this whole blog article about Gifty, the precocious central character
of Yaa Gyasi’s fascinating novel Transcendent Kingdom (2020). Gifty,
like the author, was born to Ghanaian parents and grew up in Huntsville,
Alabama.
But unlike author
Gyasi (b. 1989), who has an MFA degree, Gifty is a sixth-year Ph.D. candidate in
neuroscience at the Stanford University School of Medicine studying
reward-seeking behavior in mice and the neural circuits of depression and
addiction.
In her experiments on the brains of
mice, Gifty realized that in the case of humans, at least, there is something
more to human consciousness than just the physical brain.
For example, Gifty asks, “ . . . if
the brain can’t account for things like reason and emotion, then what can? If
the brain makes it possible for ‘us’ to feel and think then what is ‘us’?” (p.
197).
At the very end of the novel, Gifty
says, “I’ve seen enough in a mouse to understand transcendence, holiness, redemption.”
Gifty likely didn’t know anything
about Barrett Browning’s poems nor much, if anything, about Zen. But she seemed
to intuit that to understand one thing is to understand everything.
What about us, now?