Tuesday 31 January 2017

Not This, Not That


February 2017

Not This, Not That   by  Dr Elizabeth McCardell, M.Couns., PhD

     Some years ago I was at a dance party when the night became increasingly wild and the dancers all around me were going crazy, faster and faster. I stopped. And then I began gently swaying picking the shape of phrases, not the hammer of notes.

     In recent times, with the lunacy of American politics and our own, with the growing nuttiness of conspiracy theories, with the frantic anxieties of every day living, I stop and start to reflect, apophatically, on the silences, the absences, the cracks in the pavement.

     So what is this this? Death, perhaps, perhaps not.

     I am drawn to the spaces between, to the bardos of life and death, and to a creative presence that is being present in neither this, nor that.

     I am trying to approach something that by its nature cannot be finally approached, at least, perhaps, not yet. It is an intangible something. The 13th century mystic, Meister Eckhart was intrigued by this “not this, not that” something. He saw it as a problem of encountering the intangibility of God, for as he said, “…therefore let us pray to God that we may be free of God”. In other words, he wanted to strip away from an encounter with the divine that was without preconception, without idolatry. In some ways, he wanted to dance to the essence, or suchness, of God, without giving way to some definition that obscures the nature of the divine, including the very idea of a divinity.

     Hinduism has a similar idea. In Sanskrit, the “not this, not that” is netti netti. There is a Vedic meditation around this and it is an analytical one that is meant to set aside, and set aside, and set aside ideas of Brahman, by beginning to understand what is not Brahman. Such an approach is like Eckhart’s apophatic theology.

     It is interesting that the via negativa (the negative way) is an approach sometimes employed in research in the sciences and humanities. When we intuit the presence of something that is, as yet, intangible; something we feel the existence of, it is useful to examine what is going on around the general area of that presence. Astronomers use the technique often. They’ll theorize a presence, even an absence, like a black hole, from the behaviour of heavenly bodies around it.

     I am aware of my inner conversations regarding what seems to be a sort of madness going around in our days. I seek the way of knowledge, logic and rationality because this is how I have been trained as a thinker. I am, however, intuiting some community shift, some groundswell that isn’t identified. I hold at arms length short circuited explanations for things. I do not buy into Nostradamus’ predictions, nor that of Mayan thought, nor new world orders, nor anything that smacks of lizard minds. I am a skeptic and anyway I rather like the tension of not knowing, for herein lies my creative spirit.

     Interspersed with these thoughts is what is arising in my psychotherapeutic work. A dominant theme is coming up among my various clients and that is the subject of death: death as a vector for change.

     As I’m listening to what my clients tell me of their experiences with death, I am reminded of that 1999 movie, Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai. It’s about an assassin who studies in depth a book called Hagakure, or The Book of the Samurai. He seeks to live as though he is already dead, for the way of the warrior is death. What comes with this is fearlessness and detachment, but not a lack of compassion. And thus the way of netti netti, as I see it, is standing in the spaces of not this, not that, staying present with what is. This situated presence is what my job requires of me. Psychotherapy is a therapy of the apophatic (not this, not that); it is the holding of the space between and such a holding gives rise to deep and fundamental change.

“… all things are provided for by nothingness is the meaning of the phrase, “Emptiness is form.” One should not think that these are two separate things.” From Hagakure.