Saturday, June 16, 2018

Disruption/Opportunity Part 3

Since the presidential campaign and election, I have felt a deep depression, not only in me, but emanating from my soulmate, my associates, my friends and family, and my faith community. I have studied psychological depression. Though many of the symptoms are similar, this depression is different. I believe it to be a political depression, a crisis of hope in the speech and action of citizens; a loss of faith in, and a growth in fear for, the future of our world. 

I have been using my blog meditations to wrestle with our situation. Why did we get here? What does it mean? How do we respond? I studied and discussed the resentment of the working poor, the end of capitalism, the decline of democracy, the rise of authoritarian authoritarianism, seeking to understand the malaise we experience. But these meditations provide a few indicators. They help me go on—but to where?

I used the notion of “disruption” now popularized in entrepreneurial business, technological advance, and management consulting. Trump and company are disrupting the American world order. This threat could also be an opportunity for progressives because it is the habit of thinking and action in the American world order that got us here. It needs to be disrupted. But instead of using the tools of fear and resentment, the progressive might use hope and concerted action, to advance a new social order: An economy that replaces the predatory capitalism which commodifies workers, people, money, and thought.  A culture that is inclusive and tolerant. A politics that reaches for the ideals of democratic republicanism. 

But I believe that this depression is at root spiritual. I just read a piece on John of the Cross and the Dark Night of the Soul. The article reminds me that this new dark age beyond the modernism of the American century is a dark night of the soul of America and the American world. As a dark night of the soul, it is also a possible transition to a new enlightenment. We can accept our impasse and embrace the dark night of our American soul in order to dismiss our gods and open ourselves to a new emerging future.

Perhaps this will enable us collectively, as John of the Cross says, to move from meditation to contemplation, from words to the silent experience from which comes the speaking of our world, from self-consciousness to universal consciousness, from our formulas in and about space and time to the point where space and time originate “before” our formulas, i.e. from the things in our world to the nothing from which they come. This make no sense in philosophical meditation. We only sense it in contemplation.

How do we apply John’s Dark Night to our Dark Age—combining the spiritual with the political. My soul is intertwined with all souls I feel. My soul can only be “saved” if all souls are. Not by me contemplating in private. Nor can souls be saved with doctrines and words, i.e. proselytizing, converting others to my language and world perception. And I cannot save our souls myself. In fact, we can only have soul when there is no more self. No more “I."

How can we collectively open ourselves to the radically new God who does not yet exist—not just in monasteries, churches, mosques, workshops—but in the public space beyond the separations of religion and ideology?  How do we as a nation and world community climb the holy mountain, cross the Red Sea, discover the Holy Grail—all event-symbols for passing through the darkness to transcend all the icons that block us—all products of our own making.

I thought of, and eliminated, events where that universal consciousness and solidarity might be present: National celebration of VE and VJ day, DC gathering to celebrate the Capitols winning the Stanley Cup, Political campaigns and rallies: victories in war, politics, sports. Victories over others.

I also thought of national grief celebrations, e.g. when Presidents Lincoln and Kennedy died. That is closer I think. Universal suffering is an occasion for deep universal silence. Shared suffering is a prerequisite for solidarity, according to Richard Rorty. But I refuse to say that the biblical apocalypse that brings universal suffering and death is an event to await. Or maybe I should just recognize that this apocalypse is here and now in this dark age of disruption.

I do experience, although darkly, an enlightening, universalizing moment in community-based political events—not in the words, slogans, or even outcomes of the events, but in the very act of getting together and collectively speaking out. I feel strongly that political acts of solidarity, resistance, and appeal for the future is where I most discover and nourish soul even in the darkness. I cannot divorce politics from spirituality nor spirituality from politics. 

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