O critică la adresa seductivității Budismului

Urmărind ultima emisiune, mi-am amintit de un fragment pe care l-am citit acum ceva vreme, fragment ce se potrivește mănușă cu subiectul discuției lui Edi. Citatul propus aparține filosofului Slavoj Žižek și constituie o critică adusă budismului, curent a cărui seductivitate face din ce în ce mai multe victime. Precizez că textul este unul stufos, destul de greoi, dar care merită din plin atenția cititorului. Bold-uirile îmi aparțin.

”Chesterton also correctly linked this dark core of Christianity to the opposition between Inside (the immersion in inner Truth) and Outside (the traumatic encounter with Truth): “The Buddhist is looking with a peculiar intentness inwards.The Christian is staring with a frantic intentness outwards.” Here he is referring to the wellknown difference between the way the Buddha is represented in paintings and statues, with his benevolently peaceful gaze, and the way Christian saints are usually represented, with an intense, almost paranoiac, ecstatically transfixed gaze.This “Buddha’s gaze” is often evoked as a possible antidote to the Western aggressive-paranoiac gaze, a gaze which aims at total control, and is always alert, on the lookout for some lurking threat: in the Buddha, we find a benevolently withdrawn gaze which simply lets things be, abandoning the urge to control them. However, although the message of Buddhism is one of inner peace, an odd detail in the act of consecration of the Buddha’s statues throws a strange light on this peace. This act of consecration consists of painting the eyes of the Buddha.While painting these eyes, the artist cannot look the statue in the face, but works with his back to it, painting sideways or over his shoulder using a mirror, which catches the gaze of the image he is bringing to life. Once he has finished his work, he now has a dangerous gaze himself, and is led away blindfolded. The blindfold is removed only after his eyes can fall on something that he then symbolically destroys. As Gombrich dryly points out, “The spirit of this ceremony cannot be reconciled with Buddhist doctrine, so no one tries to do so.” But isn’t the key precisely this bizarre heterogeneity? The fact that for the temperate and pacifying reality of the Buddhist universe to function, the horrifying, malevolent gaze has to be symbolically excluded. The evil eye has to be tamed. Is not this ritual an “empirical” proof that the Buddhist experience of the peace of nirvana is not the ultimate fact, that something has to be when east meets west excluded in order for us to attain this peace, namely, the Other’s gaze? Another indication that the “Lacanian” evil gaze posing a threat to the subject is not just an ideological hypostasis of the Western attitude of control and domination, but something that is operative also in Eastern cultures. This excluded dimension is ultimately that of the act. What, then, is an act, grounded in the abyss of a free decision?

Recall C. S. Lewis’s description of his religious choice from Surprised by Joy—what makes it so irresistibly delicious is the author’s matter of- fact “English” skeptical style, far removed from the usual pathetic narratives of mystical rapture. C. S. Lewis’s description of the act thus deftly avoids any ecstatic pathos in the usual style of Saint Teresa, any multiple-orgasmic penetrations by angels or God: it is not that, in the divine mystical experience,we step out (in ex-stasis) of our normal experience of reality: it is this “normal” experience which is “ex-static” (Heidegger), in which we are thrown outside into entities, and the mystical experience signals the withdrawal from this ecstasy. Thus Lewis refers to the experience as the “odd thing”; he mentions its ordinary location: “I was going up Headington Hill on the top of a bus.” He qualifies it: “in a sense,” “what now appears,” “or, if you like,” “you could argue that . . . but I am more inclined to think . . . ,”“perhaps,” “I rather disliked the feeling”:

The odd thing was that before God closed in on me, I was in fact offered what now appears a moment of wholly free choice. In a sense. I was going up Headington Hill on the top of a bus.Without words and (I think) almost without images, a fact about myself was somehow presented to me. I became aware that I was holding something at bay, or shutting something out. Or, if you like, that I was wearing some stiff clothing, like corsets, or even a suit of armour, as if I were a lobster. I felt myself being, there and then, given a free choice. I could open the door or keep it shut; I could unbuckle the armour or keep it on. Neither choice was presented as a duty; no threat or promise was attached to either, though I knew that to open the door or to take off the corset meant the incalculable.The choice appeared to be momentous but it was also strangely unemotional. I was moved by no desires or fears. In a sense I was not moved by anything. I chose to open, to unbuckle, to loosen the rein. I say, “I chose,” yet it did not really seem possible to do the opposite. On the other hand, I was aware of no motives.You could argue that I was not a free agent, but I am more inclined to think this came nearer to being a perfectly free act than most that I have ever done. Necessity may not be the opposite of freedom, and perhaps a man is most free when,instead of producing motives, he could only say, “I am what I do.” Then came the repercussion on the imaginative level. I felt as if I were a man of snow at long last beginning to melt.The melting was starting in my back—drip-drip and presently trickle-trickle. I rather disliked the feeling.

In a way, everything is here: the decision is purely formal, ultimately a decision to decide, without a clear awareness of what the subject is deciding about; it is a nonpsychological act, unemotional, with no motives, desires, or fears; it is incalculable, not the outcome of strategic argumentation; it is a totally free act, although he couldn’t do otherwise. It is only afterward that this pure act is “subjectivized,” translated into a (rather unpleasant) psychological experience. There is only one aspect which is potentially problematic in Lewis’s formulation: the act as conceived by Lacan has nothing to do with the mystical suspension of ties which bind us to ordinary reality, with attaining the bliss of radical indifference in which life or death and other worldly distinctions no longer matter, in which subject and object, thought and act, fully coincide.To put it in mystical terms, the Lacanian act is, rather, the exact opposite of this “return to innocence”: Original Sin itself, the abyssal disturbance of primeval Peace, the primordial “pathological” Choice of unconditional attachment to some specific object (like falling in love with a specific person who, thereafter, matters to us more than anything else).

In Buddhist terms, the Lacanian act is the exact structural obverse of Enlightenment, of attaining nirvana: the very gesture by means of which the Void is disturbed, and Difference (and, with it, false appearance and suffering) emerges in the world. The act is thus close to the gesture of Bodhisattva who, having reached nirvana, out of compassion—that is, for the sake of the common Good—goes back to phenomenal reality in order to help all other living beings to achieve nirvana. The distance from psychoanalysis resides in the fact that, from the latter’s standpoint, Bodhisattva’s sacrificial gesture is false: in order to arrive at the act proper, one should erase any reference to the Good, and do the act just for the sake of it. (This reference to Bodhisattva also enables us to answer the “big question”: if, now,we have to strive to break out of the vicious cycle of craving into the blissful peace of nirvana, how did nirvana “regress” into getting caught in the wheel of craving in the first place? The only consistent answer is: Bodhisattva repeats this primordial “evil” gesture. The fall into Evil was accomplished by the “original Bodhisattva”—in short, the ultimate source of Evil is compassion itself.). Bodhisattva’s compassion is strictly correlative to the notion that the “pleasure principle” regulates our activity when we are caught in the wheel of Illusion—that is to say, that we all strive toward the Good, and the ultimate problem is epistemological (we misperceive the true nature of the Good)—to quote the Dalai Lama himself, the beginning of wisdom is “to realize that all living beings are equal in not wanting unhappiness and suffering and equal in the right to rid themselves of suffering.” The Freudian drive, however, designates precisely the paradox of “wanting unhappiness,” of finding excessive pleasure in suffering itself—the title of a Paul Watzlawik book (The Pursuit of Unhappiness) expresses this fundamental self-blockade of human behavior perfectly. The Buddhist ethical horizon is therefore still that of the Good—that is to say, Buddhism is a kind of negative of the ethics of the Good: aware that every positive Good is a lure, it fully assumes the Void as the only true Good. What it cannot do is to pass “beyond nothing,” into what Hegel called “tarrying with the negative”: to return to a phenomenal reality which is “beyond nothing,” to a Something which gives body to the Nothing.

The Buddhist endeavor to get rid of the illusion (of craving, of phenomenal reality) is, in effect, the endeavor to get rid of the Real of/in this illusion, the kernel of the Real that accounts for our “stubborn attachment” to the illusion. The political implications of this stance are crucial. Recall the widespread notion that aggressive Islamic (or Jewish) monotheism is at the root of our predicament—is the relationship between polytheism and monotheism, however, really that of the multitude and its oppressive “totalization” by the (“phallic”) exclusionary One? What if, on the contrary, it is polytheism which presupposes the commonly shared (back)ground of the multitude of gods, while it is only monotheism which renders thematic the gap as such, the gap in the Absolute itself, the gap which not only separates (the one) God from Himself, but is this God? This difference is “pure” difference: not the difference between positive entities, but difference “as such”. Thus monotheism is the only logical theology of the Two: in contrast to the multitude which can display itself only against the background of the One, its neutral ground, like the multitude of figures against the same background (which is why Spinoza, the philosopher of the multitude, is, quite logically, also the ultimate monist, the philosopher of the One), radical difference is the difference of the One with regard to itself, the noncoincidence of the One with itself, with its own place. This is why Christianity, precisely because of the Trinity, is the only true monotheism: the lesson of the Trinity is that God fully coincides with the gap between God and man, that God is this gap—this is Christ, not the God of beyond separated from man by a gap, but the gap as such, the gap which simultaneously separates God from God and man from man. This fact also allows us to pinpoint what is false about Levinasian-Derridean Otherness: it is the very opposite of this gap in the One, of the inherent redoubling of the One—the assertion of Otherness leads to the boring, monotonous sameness of Otherness itself.


The target on which we should focus, therefore, is the very ideology which is then proposed as a potential solution—for example, Oriental spirituality (Buddhism), with its more “gentle,” balanced, holistic, ecological approach (all the stories about how Tibetan Buddhists, for instance, when they dig the foundations of a house, are careful not to kill any worms). It is not only that Western Buddhism, this pop-cultural phenomenon preaching inner distance and indifference toward the frantic pace of market competition, is arguably the most efficient way for us fully to participate in capitalist dynamics while retaining the appearance of mental sanity—in short, the paradigmatic ideology of late capitalism. One should add that it is no longer possible to oppose this Western Buddhism to its “authentic” Oriental version; the case of Japan provides the conclusive evidence. Not only do we have today, among top Japanese managers, a widespread “corporate Zen” phenomenon; for the whole of the last 150 years, Japan’s rapid industrialization and militarization, with its ethics of discipline and sacrifice, have been sustained by the large majority of Zen thinkers—who, today, knows that D. T. Suzuki himself, the high guru of Zen in the America of the 1960s, supported in his youth, in 1930s Japan, the spirit of utter discipline and militaristic expansion? There is no contradiction here, no manipulative perversion of the authentic compassionate insight: the attitude of total immersion in the selfless “now” of instant Enlightenment, in which all reflexive distance is lost, and “I am what I do,” as C. S. Lewis put it—in short: in which absolute discipline coincides with total spontaneity— perfectly legitimizes subordination to the militaristic social machine. Here we can see how wrong Aldous Huxley was when, in The Grey Eminence, he blamed the Christian focus on Christ’s suffering for its destructive social misuse (the Crusades, etc.), and opposed it to benevolent Buddhist disengagement.

The crucial feature here is how militaristic Zen justifies killing in two ultimately inconsistent ways. First, there is the standard teleological narrative that is also acceptable to Western religions: “Even though the Buddha forbade the taking of life, he also taught that until all sentient beings are united together through the exercise of infinite compassion, there will never be peace.Therefore, as a means of bringing into harmony those things which are incompatible, killing and war are necessary.” It is thus the very force of compassion which wields the sword: a true warrior kills out of love, like parents who hit their children out of love, to educate them and make them happy in the long term. This brings us to the notion of a “compassionate war” which gives life to both oneself and one’s enemy—in it, the sword that kills is the sword that gives life. (This is how the Japanese Army perceived and justified its ruthless plundering of Korea and China in the 1930s.) Of course, all things are ultimately nothing, a substanceless Void; however, one should not confuse this transcendent world of formlessness (mukei) with the temporal world of form (yukei), thus failing to recognize the underlying unity of the two. That was socialism’s mistake: socialism wanted to realize the underlying unity directly in temporal reality (“evil equality”), thus causing social destruction.

This solution may sound similar to Hegel’s critique of the revolutionary Terror in his Phenomenology—and even the formula proposed by some Zen Buddhists (“the identity of differentiation and equality”) cannot fail to remind us of Hegel’s famous speculative assertion of the “identity of identity and difference.” Here, however, the difference is clear: Hegel has nothing to do with such a pseudo-Hegelian vision (espoused by some conservative Hegelians like Bradley and McTaggart) of society as an organic harmonious Whole, within which each member asserts his or her “equality” with others through performing his or her particular duty, occupying his or her particular place, and thus contributing to the harmony of the Whole. For Hegel, on the contrary, the “transcendent world of formlessness” (in short: the Absolute) is at war with itself, which means that the (self-)destructive formlessness (the absolute, self-relating, negativity) must appear as such in the realm of finite reality—the point of Hegel’s notion of the revolutionary Terror is precisely that it is a necessary moment in the deployment of freedom. However, back to Zen: this “teleological” justification (war is a necessary evil performed to bring about the greater good: “battle is necessarily fought in anticipation of peace” is accompanied by a more radical line of reasoning in which, much more directly, “Zen and the sword are one and the same.” This reasoning is based on the opposition between the reflexive attitude of our ordinary daily lives (in which we cling to life and fear death, strive for egotistic pleasure and profit, hesitate and think, instead of directly acting) and the enlightened stance in which the difference between life and death no longer matters, in which we regain the original selfless unity, and are directly our act. In a unique short circuit, militaristic Zen masters interpret the basic Zen message (liberation lies in losing one’s Self, in immediately uniting with the primordial Void) as identical to utter military fidelity, to following orders immediately, and performing one’s duty without consideration for the Self and its interests. The standard antimilitaristic cliché about soldiers being drilled to attain a state of mindless subordination, and carry out orders like blind puppets, is here asserted to be identical to Zen when east meets west Enlightenment.


Insofar as subjectivity as such is hysterical, insofar as it emergesthrough the questioning of the interpellating call of the Other, we have here the perfect description of a perverse desubjectivization: the subject avoids its constitutive splitting by positing itself directly as the instrument of the Other’s Will. And what is crucial in this radical version is that it explicitly rejects all the religious rubble usually associated with popular Buddhism, and advocates a return to the original down-to-earth atheist version of the Buddha himself: as Furakawa Taigo emphasizes, there is no salvation after death, no afterlife, no spirits or divinities to assist us, no reincarnation, just this life which is directly identical with death.Within this attitude, the warrior no longer acts as a person, he is thoroughly desubjectivized— or, as D. T. Suzuki himself put it: “it is really not he but the sword itself that does the killing. He had no desire to do harm to anybody, but the enemy appears and makes himself a victim. It is as though the sword performs automatically its function of justice, which is the function of mercy.” Does not this description of killing provide the ultimate illustration of the phenomenological attitude which, instead of intervening in reality, just lets things appear as they are? It is the sword itself which does the killing, it is the enemy himself who just appears, and makes himself a victim—I am not responsible, I am reduced to the passive observer of my own acts. Attitudes like these indicate how the famous “Buddha’s gaze” could well function as the support of the most ruthless killing machine—so, perhaps, the fact that Ben Kingsley’s two big movie roles are Gandhi and the excessively aggressive English gangster in Sexy Beast bears witness to a deeper affinity: what if the second character is the full actualization of the hidden potential of the first? The paradoxical Pascalian conclusion of this radically atheist version of Zen is that, since there is no inner substance to religion, the essence of faith is proper decorum, obedience to ritual as such. What, then, is the difference between this “warrior Zen” legitimization of violence and the long Western tradition, from Christ to Che Guevara, which also extols violence as a “work of love,” as in the famous lines from Che Guevara’s diary? Let me say, with the risk of appearing ridiculous, that the true revolutionary is guided by strong feelings of love. It is impossible to think of an authentic revolutionary without this quality.This is perhaps one of the greatest dramas of a leader; he must combine an impassioned spirit with a cold mind and make painful decisions without flinching one muscle. Our vanguard revolutionaries . . . cannot descend, with small doses of daily affection, to the places where ordinary men put their love into practice. Although we should be aware of the dangers of the “Christification of Che,” turning him into an icon of radical-chic consumer culture,
a martyr ready to die for his love for humanity, we should perhaps take the risk of accepting this move, radicalizing it into a “Cheization” of Christ himself—the Christ whose “scandalous” words from Saint Luke’s gospel (“if anyone comes to me and does not hate his father and his mother, his wife and children, his brothers and sisters— yes, even his own life—he cannot be my disciple” (14:26)) point in exactly the same direction as Che’s famous quote:“You may have to be tough, but do not lose your tenderness.You may have to cut the flowers, but it will not stop the Spring.”

So, again, if Lenin’s acts of revolutionary violence were “works of love” in the strictest Kierkegaardian sense of the term, in what does the difference from “warrior Zen” consist? There is only one logical answer: it is not that, in contrast to Japanese military aggression, revolutionary violence “really” aims at establishing a nonviolent harmony; on the contrary, authentic revolutionary liberation is much more directly identified with violence—it is violence as such (the violent gesture of discarding, of establishing a difference, of drawing a line of separation) which liberates. Freedom is not a blissfully neutral state of harmony and balance, but the very violent act which disturbs this balance. Nonetheless, it is all too simple either to say that this militaristic version of Zen is a perversion of the true Zen message, or to see in it the ominous “truth” of Zen: the truth is much more unbearable— what if, in its very kernel, Zen is ambivalent, or, rather, utterly indifferent to this alternative? What if—a horrible thought—the Zen meditation technique is ultimately just that: a spiritual technique, an ethically neutral instrument which can be put to different sociopolitical uses, from the most peaceful to the most destructive? (In this sense, Suzuki was right to emphasize that Zen Buddhism can be combined with any philosophy or politics, from anarchism to Fascism.

So the answer to the tortuous question “Which aspects of the Buddhist tradition lend themselves to such a monstrous distortion?” is: exactly the same ones that emphasize passionate compassion and inner peace. No wonder, then, that when Ichikawa Hakugen, the Japanese Buddhist who elaborated the most radical self-criticism after Japan’s shattering defeat in 1945, listed the twelve characteristics of the Buddhist tradition which prepared the ground for the legitimization of aggressive militarism, he had to include practically all the basic tenets of Buddhism itself: the Buddhist doctrine of dependent co-arising or causality, which regards all phenomena as being in a constant state of flux, and the related doctrine of no-self; the lack of firm dogma and a personal God; the emphasis on inner peace rather than justice. ”

Slavoj Zizek, The puppet and the dwarf


32 Responses to O critică la adresa seductivității Budismului

  1. Beni Plesa says:


    Crestinismul si budismul sint doua lumi diferite ,singurul element ce le uneste este ca amindoa sint practicate de oameni cu idealuri inalte ,oameni ce cauta o solutie la coruptivitatea vizibila si invizibila a naturii lor umane.

    Ca un om este analizat dupa faptele lui este adevarat atat in budism cat si in crestinism.
    Cauza si efectul sint principii universal valabile si nici o religie nu detzine monopolul asupra aspiratiilor de „corectare ” a ceea ce fiecare om cu mintea intreaga realizeaza prin meditatie profunda sau superficiala,adica;–natura umana este corupta si tinde spre autodistrugere.
    Budistul aspira ca prin reincarnari mulriple (nasteri din nou) sa nu se mai intoarca in aceasta lume plina de suferinta ,iar scopul lui este sa-si piarda identitatea in nirvana.
    Crestinul crede ca datorita harului divin prin Isus si lucrarea lui omul este nascut din nou odata pentru totdeauna si va „intra” in ‘locurile ceresti” intr-o alta lume ,o lume in care nu-si va pierde identitatea.

    scopul budistului;

    „”Metta Sutta, from the Sutta Nipata, verses 143-52 (Spoken by the Buddha)

    What should be done by one skillful in good
    So as to gain the State of Peace is this:

    Let him be able, and upright, and straight.
    Easy to speak to, gentle, and not proud,
    Contented, too, supported easily.
    With few tasks, and living very lightly,
    His faculties serene, prudent, and modest,
    Unswayed by the emotions of the clans;
    And let him never do the slightest thing
    That other wise men might hold blamable.

    (And let him think:) „In safety and in bliss
    May creatures all be of a blissful heart.
    Whatever breathing beings there may be,
    No matter whether they are frail or firm,
    With none excepted, be they long or big
    Or middle sized, or be they short or small
    Or thick, as well as those seen or unseen,
    Or whether they are dwelling far or near,
    Existing or yet seeking to exist,
    May creatures all be of a blissful heart.
    Let no one work another one’s undoing
    Or even slight him at all anywhere;
    And never let them wish each other ill
    Through provocation or resentful thought.”

    And just as might a mother with her life
    Protect the son that was her only child,
    So let him then for every living thing
    Maintain unbounded consciousness in being,
    And let him too with love for all the world
    Maintain unbounded consciousness in being
    Above, below, and all round in between,
    Untroubled, with no enemy or foe.
    And while he stands or walks or while he sits
    Or while he lies down, free from drowsiness,
    Let him resolve upon this mindfulness
    This is Divine Abiding here, they say.
    But when he has no trafficking with views,
    Is virtuous, and has perfected seeing,
    And purges greed for sensual desires.
    He surely comes no more to any womb.

    Cu exceptia ultimelor patru randuri ,aproape orce crestin ar fi deacord cu restul de idei ale budismului.

  2. emma says:

    Intotdeauna au existat repere in identificarea maestrilor si a ucenicilor lor prin felul de a se comporta, vorbirea,estetica. Au purtat haina „lui” , a maestrului. Zizec e maestrul care proclama legea dorintei ca unica, care anunta nasterea supraomului prin Isus si mantuirea prin anarhie, care dezleaga fluidele perversiunii
    Crestinismul lui Zizec e un fel de evanghelie proprie bazata pe ortodoxie si gnoza, iar extinderea criticii spre alte culturi poarta amprenta modului grosolan de a privi realul, „realul adevarat” in propria-i expresie.
    „Atat crestinismul, cat si Hegel transpun golul care ne separa de Absolut in Absolutul insusi. In termenii acestul gol care-l separa de om de Dumnezeu, asta inseamna ca golul este transpus in Dumnezeu insusi, ca si gol intre Christos si Dumnezeu-Tatal – Christos este noul, al doilea Iov. In termeni etici, asta inseamna ca trebuie sa recunoastem forta pozitiva a Raului, fara sa regresam la dualismul maniheean (…) Raul nu este «substantial» diferit de Bine, o forta pozitiva opusa – ci Raul este substantial acelasi ca si Binele, insa într-un mod diferit (sau intr-o perspectiva diferita) (…) Raul este Binele «in devenire»: ruptura negativa radicala, ruptura cu vechea ordine substantiala, ca si conditie a unei noi universalitati“
    Slavoj Zizek, The Puppet and the Dwarf.

    Dumnezeul Auschiwitz-ului in care omul e supus torturilor naturii, dezmembrarilor plestilentiale ale mortii in virtutea „liberatii divine” si in care singura salvare e anarhia iar adevarata lege „dorinta” , implinirea dorintei fata de care nu exista scrupule.
    Intr-o astfel de lume, nu ai cum sa vezi frumusetea trairilor, cautarea unor ‘adevaruri” in afara limitelor impuse de religii.
    Nu se poate vorbi de un „adevar” Zen , de pacea aparenta care monopolizeaza fiinta umana facand-o usor de controlat, de manipulat sau de implicare hipnotica spre o forta distructiva, militarizata asa cum arata Zizec.
    E o versiune proprie care intoarce pe dos aceasta practica ( nu credinta) ,versiune vizibila si in interpretarea crestinismului.
    Era o vreme cand samuraii isi lasau povara armelor si se refugiau in incaperea inimii lor pentru a se reculege.
    Acesta e Zen, un drum spre Sine.
    Nu este religie, nu are legatura cu imaginea nici unui zeu ci o intoarcere la tine insati ajutat de mediul creat pentru asa ceva.
    Nimic nu este intamplator, fiecare amanunt conteaza, de la florile mici , delicate , asezate intr-o vaza pusa langa rogojina, la pietrele colorate fin, aranjate una peste alta in asa fel incat sa armonizeze cu restul , o estetica a simplitatii pure.
    Apoi ceainicul , plantele si cescuta. In momentul in care se prepara ceaiul, mintea trebuie eliberata de toate framantarile vietii, de imagini, de tensiuni.
    Exista o anume maniera in care se soarbe cantitatea f.mica de ceai .
    Sunt f. putini care prin puterea autocontrolului , prin inabusirea tensiunilor interioare ,reusesc sa scoata la suprafata acele simturi latente care produc placerea , mirosul, gustul, fara o cauza externa. Ei nu au nevoie nici macar de cantitatea infima de ceai, pentru ca simt aroma ceaiului si ajung sa vizualizeze actul in sine in fata unei cesti goale.
    E psihanaliza exteticii, pe care un lacanian de genul lui Zizec nu are cum sa o simta, nu-i poate patrunde esenta , viata lui e axata pe dorinta, sex si moarte.
    E poate ceea ce Bachelard ar spune: e timpul ca psihanaliza sa treaca de la a elibera barajul dorintelor la colectarea lor si imbunatatirea esteticii pentru a aduce un beneficiu umanitatii.

  3. baba rada says:

    si parerea ta alexa care ar fi?

    zizek afirma multe chestii socante. socanta ar fi viziunea lui de alb si negru, fara griuri. omul nu este doar un animal politic, oricat de stanga ar fi el, zizek.

  4. tabita says:

    Edi Constantinescu in emisiunea Tentatia Budismului -Oxigen 2

    minutul 43 ->45

    „Sa-l cautam pe Dumnezeu ca un instrument de mantuire.

    Mantuirea nu consta in a perpetua la infinit o existenta goala si alienata, ci este mai degraba mai important sa fii mantuit intr-o existenta limitata, care se termina cu moartea.

    Decat sa ai la infinit o existenta nemantuita si cand spun de mantuire inteleg ca m…antuirea insemneaza unirea sufletului cu Dumnezeu.

    In acelasi timp, inteleg prin Dumnezeu, nu imaginea unui tatic sentimental sau de papusar care trage sforile in univers, ci un Dumnezeu pe care il gasesti daca-l cauti din toata inima.

    De alt fel, Dumnezeu la care te inchini este un mit intre alte mituri.

    Aceasta este o cale grea pe care trebuie sa mergem, dar e singura cale pe care putem ajunge la destinatie”.

    J’adore !!!

  5. emma says:


    Tu l-ai gasit ?
    De ce nu incearca nimeni sa spuna propria experienta si vorbeste de experienta altora ca fiind certitudine sau de atat de pronuntata nastere din nou ?
    Nu vorbesc aici de experientele care pot fi simple intamplari puse pe seama supranaturalului . Ce inseamna acea cautare din toata inima ?

  6. Anti says:

    Ha, ha, s-a trezit si Alexa k e crestina LOL Articolu’ asta imi aminteste de mioriticii in care se trezeste ortodoxia doar cand aud de ‘pocaiti’. Sa fie oare reactia superegoului nevrotic? 😀

  7. Dan says:

    Si daca cumva prezenta, trezirea, mintuirea, etc nu sint pentru toata “lumea”? Care e dovada ( in afara argumentului circular) ca omul e superior unei pietre, unui copac sau unei veverite? Ce ne face sa credem ca sintem singurii care avem monopol asupra constiintei? Pentru ca ne lipseste mijlocul de comunicare cu restul elementelor din univers, poate sa insemne ca nu exista constiinta si la alte nivele? Fara influenta sunetului si luminii ( audibil si vizibil) oare cum ar fi evoluat religiile? Oare intr-adevar scopul final sa fie „mintuirea” sau „nirvana”…. cum or mai fi si alea definite de fiecare, dupa subiectivismul si limitele naturii umane? Sau poate traind intr-o lume „asa cum e” , creierul inventeaza o metoda de supravietuire , un fel de realitate alternativa, fara de care probabil ar intra in „overload condition” si s-ar scurtcircuita, transformindu-se in “ I can’t believe is not butter”! Societatea e plina de „nebuni” care-si mentin aparenta unei sanatati mintale prin droguri, alcool,munca,sex, tv si mai nou internet.Nu sint oare toate acestea forme de cautare a nirvanei, bliss, pace,implinire fullfilment,locul unde ajungi cu „sacii in caruta”!
    Se spune ca patru invatati au intrat in gradina paradisului : Unul si-a pierdut viata, unul a innebunit , unul si-a pierdut credinta si doar unul a scapat , continuiindu-si viata in mod echilibrat. Morala povestii : cine cere lumina i se va da dar daca vasul nu are capacitatea sa poarte lumina , vasul se va sparge. In varianta moderna : ” You want to know the truth…, You can’t handle the truth”!
    Se pare ca nu exista scapare din blestemul legilor dualiste care guverneaza realitatea asa cum o percepem . Odata inventat „sus” tentatia apare sa vezi cum e si jos. Daca am fost la stinga , oare la dreapta cum e? Probabil ca argumentele pro si contra , in care pistolul meu e mai mare decit al tau sint doar o diversiune de la posibilitatea de a descoperi acea realitate contemplativa unde (” imparatia mea nu e din lumea aceasta”) legile dualismului inceteaza sa mai influenteze existenta ( I don’t even know that I don’t know). In acelasi timp ramine posibilitatea ca teoriile noastre sa nu fie decit o alta forma de “random neuronal firing patterns with no meaning at all” sau mai pe ardeleneste ” just a brain fart”! Wishfull thinking supported with a grimm determination! ……Maybe!
    E posibil ca pina la urma doar arta ramine cea mai autentica descriptie a
    indescriptibilului, si nu filozofia! Mai mult , fara o forma de manifestare artistica devine aproape imposibil sa-ti pastrezi sanatatea. Poate cind actul artistic va deveni o necesitate, umanitatea va trece la un nou nivel de constiinta. Trei pasi inainte , doi pasi inapoi casha-i jocul pe la noi!

  8. emma says:

    Potrivit prejudecatilor despre anumite practici zen sau budhiste in general , pornite din gandirea deformata de postmodernism si crestinism in acelasi timp, multi tind sa le asocieze cu iluzia, nihilismul .
    Am citit o intamplare cand un tanat plin de sine, iluminat din punctul sau de vedere a facut cale lunga sa ajunga la un celebru maestru zen , nu sa capete intelepciune ci sa arate cat de cunoscator este el.
    Ajungand in fata maestrului a inceput sa expuna teoria cunoscuta de toti, sablon de gandire culeasa de prin carti, cam asa :”Mintea, Buddha, fiintele, nu exista, de fapt! Adevarata natura a fenomenelor este vidul. Nu exista realitate, nici iluzie, nici întelepciune, nici prostie. Nu exista nimeni care sa dea, nimeni care sa primeasca.”
    Maestrul care-si sorbea linistit ceasca cu ceai a luat un bat si l-a lovit , facandu-l sa sara de durere , zicand :”Daca nu exista nimic, de ce sari asa ?”
    Asta-i diferenta intre a trai si a gasi un suport al refugiului din realitate catre sine prin diferite metode, de a te reculege si a porni iar la drum,pe calea vietii pe acest pamant si a trai nedeformat de religie, nestigmatizat in numele unei iubiri neautentice. Cautarea fericirii, a implinirii intr-o alta viata biblia o schiteaza in termeni alegorici. Pentru aceasta iluzie alegorica si in numele ei s-au comis atrocitati si se vor comite . Dar nu numai crestinismul, ci orice religie care duce cu ea ideea universalitatii.
    In plan concret, comunismul, nazismul au fost fetele unor ideologii, nu ateiste ci a unui principiu nerealist, a supraomului, a supravietuirii celor puternici nu in puterea legilor naturii ci in puterea distrugerii de catre sistem a celor slabi, dezavantajati, nonconformisti.
    Multiculturalismul e o teorie politica de succes, zic unii.
    Zizec, un antiliberal , crede ca in spatele multiculturalismului se ascunde o barbarie, ce vine in conflict cu esenta lasata mostenire umanitatii de crestinism .
    Multe lucruri si multe planuri se fac in spatele ideilor umanitare, insa cel putin e un drum catre intelegere, un drum catre democratie.
    E o deschidere de moment intr-o perioada de criza permanentizata si o solutie pentru iesirea si regasirea drumului spre om si valorile lui.

  9. tabita says:

    emma 5,

    Nu Emma, nu l-am gasit!
    Sunt de acord cand spune Eddy ca mantuirea este unirea sufletului cu Dumnezeu. Adica sa accepti ca esti parte din univers ca nu dispari ci devii altceva: alta materie, energie, combinatie su mai stiu eu ce…

    In natura nimic nu se pierde, nimic nu se castiga, ci totul se transforma! (Antoine-Laurent Lavoisier)

    Fie ca vrem sa acceptam sau nu, fie credem sau nu, asa se intampla!

    Cel putin sa avem umilinta sa recunoastem, sa nu ne mintim la infinit…

    Pe curand, Emma 🙂

  10. Dan says:

    Cum ai descrie tu in termeni detaliati unirea entităţii numită „suflet??”… cu entitatea numită ” Dumnezeu”??? Adică poţi descrie experienta ta intr-un limbaj sau o terminologie care are relevanţă pentru cineva care nu vorbeşte ” christianese” . Încearcă te rog o alta explicatie decit ” I had a feeling”.

  11. tabita says:

    eu nu cred ca sufletul este o entitate.
    „Suflet” pentru mine este om, persoana, fiinta, ceva… etc. Adica eu sunt ceva si devin altceva put si simplu!
    Si asta nu prin vointa mea sau daca fac aia sau cealalta, urmez cutare drum sau tin cutare ritualuri, principii, meditatii si alte nebunii…
    Iar „Dumnezeu” pentru mine nu e dumnezeul biblic, nici zeii mitologici, nici, nici…
    Pentru moment numesc dumnezeu, universul asta in care traim!
    Nu stiu cine a hotarat sa fie universul asa cum e si transformarile astea sa se faca asa cum se fac, nici daca e un anume „cineva”…
    Sunt si eu o particica din el si atat.
    Pentru moment asta inteleg. Poate va veni timpul cand voi intelege mai mult!
    Nu stiu daca e bine sa cunosc mai mult, deoarece nu stiu daca-mi va fi de vreun folos, dar daca va fi cazul o sa va comunic si voua 🙂
    Cu simpatie, va imbratisez pe toti forumistii !

  12. Beni Plesa says:


    Mai frumoaso ,imi pare bine ca ai revenit.

    „”Pentru moment numesc dumnezeu, universul asta in care traim!”

    Mai Tabita ,cum poti sa faci o astfel de afirmatie ??

    Acum panteismul este atractiv pentru ex-adventisti ??
    Daca universul este dumnezeu pentru tine ,esti doar la un pas de cei care imbratiseaza copacii si isi cer iertare de la ei ca omenirea ai polueaza.

    mai ,Tabita ,nu vad ce te-ar opri sa incepi si tu sa te inchini la copaci..
    Cred ca ai glumit cand ai afirmat ca dumnezeul tau este universul .,

  13. Dan says:

    Am inteles . Unirea sufletului cu Dumnezeu e ca un fel de incoroshcobilizare a bilibistricizarii. Adica ceva care seamana cu altceva. Cum zicea unul mai din topor: ” Baaa, tu cind vorbesti cu mine sa taci! ”
    Sa stii ca nu am nici o intentie sa te iau la bashcalie ( e destui d’alde Samson p’acilea) . Fac si eu ca mutu ala care ar vrea sa spuna multe da nu i se leaga limba’n gura. Punctul meu voia sa fie indreptat in directia limitelor limbajului , simturilor si a intelectului atunci cind incercam sa descriem aspecte care sint de stricta experienta personala. Oare cum pot sa ajung sa umblu in papucii tai pentru a putea intelege ceea ce vrei sa spui? Oare culoarea mea albastra are aceasi nuanta cu albastrul tau? Sau o sa ne luam de cap ca albastrul tau e verde si al meu e cel mai albastru! Si ne scaldam in monologuri dualiste cu placerea porcului care se tavaleste in noroi. …Vai de mine pacatosul! Ma duc sa trag un solo de tobe !

  14. tabita says:

    Salut, Beni!
    Credinta e ceva spontan, nu? Ca si dragostea! Nu pot sa-mi impun sa iubesc pe cutare persoana (sa o tolerez, da, sa o respect, sa o accept, dar sa o iubesc nu!) sau sa n-o iubesc.
    Deci nu pot sa-mi impun sa cred cutare chestie, cum ar fi aia cu inchinarea la copaci.
    Personal, nu crted ca trebuie sa te inchini la ceva sau la cineva!

    Poti sa ma certi tu pana la anul viitor, poti sa te miri pana la „Dumnezeu”, pentru moment eu nu simt decat atat: sunt o infima particica din univers. Ce e rau in asta?
    Ar fi bine sa ma vad cineva important? Cineva care merit aia sau cealalta? Cineva care are dreptate ce spune, care stie cum sa se roage, sa se inchine, cineva care-l cunoaste pe Dumnezeu?
    Nu sunt decat tabita!

  15. leo says:


    bine spus!

  16. K-troll, sectant, primata, rahat paranoic says:


    Ceea ce tu numesti iubire, asta care nu exista ‘la comanda’, e un sentiment inventat acu’ vreo zece veacuri.

    Credinta de care vorbeste BP e o inventie si mai noua.

    Pentru iubire, iti recomand trei cartulii frumoase – Iubirea si Occidentul, Denis de Rougemint; Minciuna romantica si adevar romanesc, Rene Girard; Arta de a iubi, Erich Fromm.

  17. study_nature says:


    ai uitat de Studii despre iubire de José Ortega y Gasset.

  18. tabita says:

    Mai baieti, hai sa nu perturbam subiectul Alexei.
    Sau ne bagam la of topic?
    K-troll, eu cred ca iubirea este o satisfacere egoista a placerii proprii, un instinct pe care il mostenim din regnul animal pentru continuarea speciei. Si e bun, nu?
    Dar in timpurile noastre, moderne, pot sa-mi impun sa accept (adica sa nu-l impung) si pe cel pe care nu-l sufar, ca de! asa impune codul etic, vorba lui Arghezi: Eticheta cere ca sa fii om pudic, bunul simt pretinde sa nu besi in public!
    Asta am urmarit si eu in mesajele precedente ca de nu, cand nimeni nu-ti sta imprejur, poti sa besi in lege, pana cazi in cur! ha ha ha! sa mai si radem ca destula tristete mai intalnim in viata asta!
    Trebuie sa fii curajos, sa-ti iei riscul de a trai, nu?

  19. K-troll, sectant, primata, rahat paranoic says:


    Mersi. Nu ma gandisem la ea.

    Eu vizam ideea nasterii acestei iubiri ce vine ca o lovitura din afara, ca un traznet (este o poveste interesanta in Nasul, despre o expresie siciliana in genul asta pentru indragostire). Cine are chef, poate compara pe Ovidiu cu Andreas Capellanus, cu a sa De amore. La Ovidiu, toata arta iubirii e de fapt un fel de algoritm pentru a ajunge in pat.

  20. tabita says:

    Cred ca trebuia sa zic Toparceanu – mea culpa! 🙂

  21. emma says:


    „Trebuie sa fii curajos, sa-ti iei riscul de a trai, nu?”

    E un risc intr-adevar.
    E de preferat moartea, sfarsitul problemelor dar viata trebuie sa continue . E un joc de scena pe care unii din noi il rateaza, nu pentru ca nu si-au invatat rolul ci pentru ca nu pot si nu vor sa poarte masti.
    E un lucru care se invata pentru a supravietui, dar nu supravietuirea e totul.
    Poate regasirea si impacarea cu tine insuti.
    Altfel, nimic cu are sens, viata e o gluma macabra si atat.
    O respiratie dureroasa si un gand spre nimic. Cine a pus in om gandul eternitatii a facut si mai rau, pentru ca a perpetuat durerea, inutilitatea.
    Pamatul traieste la suprafata, in interior e moarte, resturile unor vietati , fiinte care au misunat, au gandit , s-au hranit sau au visat.
    Oasele lor stau marturie existentei, insa cine mai stie viata lor ?
    O cronica a vietii e inscrisa in adancuri si totusi viata trebuie traita la suprafata si cu ochii la cer, altfel nu stiu.
    Exista vreun rost ?

  22. prologos says:

    omul fara Dumnezeu o ia razna
    ajunge sa isi piarda orice urma de rationament
    ajunge sa nu mai aiba nici o urma de respect pentru propria persoana
    isi pierde demnitatea
    crede ca este liber dar este incatusat zilnic din ce in ce mai mult
    prin refuzul inchinarii la Dumnezeu ajunge sa i se inchine siesi
    si tare ii mai place…
    nu i asa?

  23. prologos says:

    a trai e un curaj nemaintalnit
    a trai frumos si a iubii e mai mult
    ati vedea copilul crescand
    a vorbi cu el
    a te juca cu el
    ati respecta partenerul
    ati respecta parintii
    ati respecta vecinii
    a fi demn de ceea ce esti

    abia atunci traiesti
    si daca ai trait doar pentru viata asta, nu iti e rusine de tine

  24. leo says:

    sambata e ora muzicala la tine?

  25. emma says:


    Daca se inchina siesi cum isi poate pierde respectul de sine ?
    Poti sa le faci pe toate cate zici tu, iar viata sa te loveasca in asa fel incai ti-ai dori sa nu mai stii de nimic.
    Nu iti este rusine de tine, traiesti pentru altii si e o satisfactie.
    Dar viata ar trebui sa fie mai mult de atat, ar trebui sa te bucuri de ea (Ecleziastul).
    iti poti respecta partenerul, dar el nu
    iti pot respecta parintii si atat
    pentru ca copilaria a fost atat de dureroasa incat a-i fi dorit sa le arunci in fata toata suferinta
    justitie, dreptate
    a fi demn de ceea ce esti inseamna a-ti cere dreptul la viata
    si nu depinde numai de tine ci si de toti factorii enumerati de tine
    atat timp cat omul e o fiara
    sa te aspepti la muscaturi, la razbunare
    chiar daca crezi ca mai poate exista o impacare sau respectul de care vorbesti
    toti soptesc la urechi vorbe mieroase sau urla ineptii
    mint, inseala si traiesc in iluzii
    iti ascund adevarul, te calca in picioare
    nu-ti raspund la respect si te arunca in groapa deznadejdii
    urzesc planuri sa te doboare
    te compara , te falsifica, sunt pentru interes
    cati sunt cei care au aflat fericirea si o spulbera pentru o dorinta efemera ?
    cati sunt cei care si-au pierdut speranta pentru ca nu-nteleg speculatiile ?
    dreptatea nu face casa buna cu nedreptatea
    iar a specula fericirea e ca si cum ai arunca margaritare la porci
    viata e o albie de porci si nu albia raului care spala nisipul timpului lasandu-l curat
    viata e o mizerie de multe ori
    e demn sa o constati si sa cureti de fiecare data
    o munca inutila, dar merita sa traiesti
    pentru a privi moartea din jurul tau.

  26. prologos says:

    ironia ta face doi bani

  27. prologos says:

    ema, apreciez raspunsul tau
    De ce viata e dura pentru unii oameni. Un raspuns la aceasta intrebare nu stiu daca il poate oferi cineva. Cea mai mare nedreptate care se intampla e faptul ca murim. De ce murim?
    Sincer, am ales sa imi pun speranta in Dumnezeu, pentruca vreau sa traiesc. E dreptul meu, nu are nimeni dreptul s ma condamne. Daca gresesc, e greseala mea si atat.
    Am constatat ca oridecate ori incerc sa fac ceva bun, egoismul castiga de cele mai multe ori. Nu condamn pe nimeni, este o constatare cu privire la persoana mea. Homo homini lupus = Omul e lup pentru om.
    Nu sunt masochist
    Nu sunt fanatic
    Nu toti adventisti sunt fanatici, dupa cum nu toti islamicii sunt teroristi.
    Daca esti onest cu tine insuti accepti asta.
    asa cum ai spus tu, oricum ar fi viata, aceasta merita sa fie traita.
    Nu doar pentru a privi moartea, ci cum din moarte, viata renaste.
    Primavara se incapataneaza sa fie anotimp.

  28. emma says:


    Ai dreptate.
    Numai ca eu exclud „omul e lup pentru om”.
    Nu-mi pot face din asta filosofie de viata .
    Primavara se incapataneaza sa fie anotimp si e cu atat mai minunata dupa o iarna cumplita. Se spune :”Cu o floare nu se face primavara „, eu pot spune „Cu o singura floare a aparut primavara in inima mea .”
    Chiar daca am descoperit asta intr-o zi pe care o s-o prind in calendarul vietii.

  29. emma says:


    ce poate face un copil !

    Printre atatea gunoaie , fantasme dezgustatoare , religii si moarte se mai ivesc ici si colo ghiocei. Cred ca e o datorie sa nu-i strivim, ei anunta primavara.
    „Homo homini lupus” nu se incadreaza la iubirea fata de Dumnezeu ci „Homo homini deus „, da.

  30. emma says:


    Referitor la comentariul tau #11 , ti-as recomanda sa-l citesti pe Ken Wilber.
    Face o analiza intre practica Zen si psihanaliza ,amandoua orientate spre acelasi nivel al constiintei chiar daca se refera la niveluri diferite ale sinelui.
    De fapt, dupa cum spunea Freud, psihanaliza nu inseamna decat incercarea de a constientiza inconstientul.
    In practica zen adeptului i se recomanda sa-si uite , sa-si depaseasca propriul eu , in psihanaliza individul este ajutat sa-si consolideze eul.
    Amandoua reusesc sa reuneasca psihicul cu somaticul.
    O persoana care incepe sa-si inteleaga suferinta vietii, incepe sa se trezeasca la o realitate mai profunda. In toti exista o parte intunecata, care trebuie acceptata. Negand-o nu facem decat sa ne departam de ea si sa o fixam in ceilalti, o proiectie in afara noastra.
    Ajungem sa uram , sa judecam pe altii care fac anume lucruri care in mod inconstient apartin propriului eu.
    Trebuie sa ne descoperim sinele real, sa devenim observatorul interior.
    O cugetare zen zice :”Daca nu poti cuprinde realitatea in momentul prezent , nu o poti afla indiferent de cate ori ai reveni pe lume.”
    Ceea ce vreau sa spun e ca redescoperirea unor practici, sisteme de gandire, filosofii vechi ne poate readuce un plus de cunoastere, de redescoperire a fiintei umane.
    Crestinismul incepe sa se axeze pe o latura sensibila, o apropiere fata de lumea interioara a sinelui. Teilhard de Chardin spunea ca fiecare are sentimentul sinelui si senzatia lumii exterioare, fiind de fapt unul si acelasi sentiment.
    Meditatiile in sine nu sunt simple halucinatii sau aberatii mentale, nu au nimic din angoasa viziunilor psihotice ci sunt un moment de regasire a eului autentic, de apartenenta la universul in care traim . Suntem , asa cum zicea Sagan pulberi de stele.

  31. tabita says:

    Emma 30,
    multumesc pentru recomandare. O sa caut cartile lui, am mare nevoie 🙂 Sa ai o seara placuta!

  32. ASUL says:

    ce dreacu e pana de idei ? de pastele masii lu jesus cristos ?
    ati beut bine de bucurie sanjele lu mnezo ?

    daca nu atunci beu ieu
    hai neroc ! in cinstea indienilor pocaiti ce-i prelucreaza biblia la creiere :)))

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