academic and experiential reflection on psychology, mindfulness, philosophy, spirituality and christianity
in soul pursuit

Monday, 9 May 2016
Pentecost and Christian Mindfulness
Dear All
First of all, apologies for not posting anything on here for a month or so. I seem to have been busier than ever with university work and have just returned from a wonderful pilgrimage to Assisi - more on that anon.
For now I attach part of a talk I shall be giving at Durham University this Thursday for Prof Chris Cook's excellent spirituality and psychology seminar. More details on his website. I also attach a picture from Fr Vineeth's ashram of the season of Pentecost which we are about to enter. I pray that the Spirit of Truth will fill your hearts and minds in the coming weeks and months.
best wishes
Peter
Contemporary
Mindfulness
When the molecular biologist Jon
Kabat-Zinn first developed his mindfulness courses at the University of
Massachusetts in the late 1970s he was not so concerned with the metaphysical
implications of Buddhist meditation practices as their clinical and medical
efficacy. This novel notion of giving mindfulness meditation a sound clinical
and experimental basis is what proved the essential catalyst for the subsequent
explosion of mindfulness (See Boyce 2011, xii- xiii). Thirty years later the
clinical evidence for the efficacy of these methods in treating illnesses as
diverse as depression, cancer and eating disorders is overwhelming (even though
latterly there is the inevitable counter-movement expressing the ‘dangers’
inherent in mindfulness). This, alongside courses such Kabat-Zinn’s own
Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction programme (MBSR) the eight week forerunner
for many of the later mindfulness courses and the Mindfulness Based Cognitive
Therapy (MBCT) developed at Oxford by Prof Mark Williams and colleagues have
contributed to the success of mindfulness as we know it today.
Kabat-Zinn himself defines mindfulness
as ‘paying attention in a particular way: on purpose, in the present moment,
and nonjudgementally’ (1994:4). This ‘bare’ definition is supplemented by many
practitioners with wider values drawing upon something closer to the Buddhist
notions we began with. Thus Chozen Bays (2011) suggests that it is
‘deliberately paying attention, being fully aware of what is happening both
inside yourself – in your body, heart and mind – and outside yourself in the
environment... it is awareness without judgement or criticism’ (Boyce 2011: 3).
She goes further to state that ‘when we are mindful, we are not comparing or
judging. We are simply witnessing the many sensations, thoughts and emotions
that come up as we engage in the ordinary activities of daily life.’ We could
continue multiplying these varying definitions yet, following Mace, what becomes
clear when we analyse these contemporary understandings of mindfulness is that
there seem to be two directions in current usage. First, the desire, as Mace
himself puts it, to concentrate on the ‘bare attention’ to observe, Buddha-like,
the passing show of sensations, thoughts and emotion with no sticky
entanglement. As neuro-biologists and scientists have become interested in the
subject this ‘pure bare mindfulness’ (difficult as it is to isolate) has become
the main source of their study. On the other hand, writers such as Chozen Bays
above or Shapiro (2006) link the practice with wider connotations of
‘heartfulness’ (see above), compassion and the general teleological development
of character.
Esoteric though these debates sound I
think they go right to the heart of the subject we are considering today: ‘How
far, if at all, can mindfulness be accommodated into an established religious
practice such as Christianity?’ And I think the answer will be (in typical
philosophical fashion) – ‘it depends what sort of mindfulness you are talking
about’. Let me explain further...
Wednesday, 2 March 2016
About Soul
I am delighted to announce that my friend and colleague, Tim Wainwright's 'About Soul' weblink is now live:
http://www.aboutsoul.org/
He writes:
'This project is a consideration of soul in the everyday lives of Londoners.
I will be uploading videos regularly over the next eighteen months, and versions of the work will be exhibited in various London venues starting in September 2016.
This is the last in a quartet of projects begun in 1993; the others were concerned with mind, body and heart.'
We shall be showing a video made from material collected for this project at our 'soul seminar' on 6th September at St Mary's and launching both the project and my 'Pursuit of the Soul'...
best wishes
Peter
Sunday, 21 February 2016
The Return of the Soul
Finally, I am pleased to announce that after three years of waiting 'The Pursuit of the Soul' will be published on 25th February by T & T Clark. I want to thank all at T & T Clark and Bloomsbury for working so hard to make this happen. We shall be having an official book-launch on 6th September at St Mary's including a presentation from the renowned Australian analyst and critic, David Tacey. However, in the meantime, I shall be presenting a seminar at the Marylebone Centre for Health and Healing this Wednesday evening on some of the main themes of the book. Details of this are on an earlier post. By way of a taster here are some of the key elements of 'soul language' with which I conclude both my book and the talk on Wednesday...
1. A Way of Seeing
Following Wittgenstein, soul-work can be described as a ‘way of seeing’
that releases liberating perspectives in our day-to-day existence. In Hillman’s
words:
By soul, I mean, first of all, a perspective
rather than a substance, a viewpoint towards things rather than a thing itself.
(RVP:x)
What I learn from Wittgenstein is that our grammar suggests that ‘the
soul’ is an object, a little furry beast if you like, that we are all on the
hunt to get. Philosophy, he writes (PI 109) is ‘a battle against the
bewitchment of our understanding through the medium of our language’ (ein Kampf
gegen die Verhexung unsres Verstandes durch die Mittel unserer Sprache). Rather
than an entity soul is a perspective. Essentially a transcendental perspective
on our selves.
As well as his
critique of the ‘over-spiritualization’ of the self, Hillman, was an equally trenchant
critic of the over-scientism and reductionism within contemporary approaches to
the psyche. The past few decades,
since Hillman started his writing, have seen a marked reduction in the
significance of the spiritual and religious content of the psychological
therapies. The same cannot be said for the empirical and pseudo-scientific
approach. Indeed, in many respects, with the rise of quasi-neurological
‘explanations’ and ‘interpretations’ of the mind it seems as though this
approach may have reached its zenith in recent years. Along with Wittgenstein, Hillman
had a justifiable and deep-seated suspicion of the over-idolisation of
psychology as a ‘science of the mind’ and was every bit as trenchant as
Wittgenstein in challenging the unquestioning acceptance of this position. His
own approach was to advocate a ‘third path’ between reductionism and idealism,
theology and science, which gave him, he believed, the right to challenge
scientific and medical models of psychology, especially psycho-pathology, for:
The
science fantasy with its reliance upon objectivity, technology, verification,
measurement, and progress – in short, its necessary literalism – is less a
means for examining the psyche than for examining science. (RVP:169)
Thus the work of the analyst, pastor or care-worker, is to cultivate
the ‘third position’ of the soul/ From this alert ambiguity the soul-maker
helps us attune ourselves to the transcendent by drawing attention to our
responses to the immanent. Uniquely, the soul-maker recognises the human person
as the locus of intersection of the transcendent and immanent.
2. The Path of Unknowing
At the heart of the soul-project lies an essential unknowing. Hillman
termed the Freudian desire to replace ‘It’ with ‘I’ the ‘strip mining of the
psyche’ (IV:46) and his counter-move suggests an approach to the ‘unknown
thing’ that gives space for the unconscious to breathe. In this respect the
apophatic unknowing of the soul is simply letting the conscious know its place
while the unconscious figurations reassert themselves. ‘Maybe’, suggests
Hillman, ‘they know best what is relevant to the conscious personality, rather
than the conscious personality’ (IV:46). Therefore contemporary soul-making
will require as much ‘unknowing’ as it does ‘knowing’. This, of course, is
nothing new to the Christian mystical tradition which has always placed ‘unknowing’
at the centre of its search for the self.
Adopting a phrase of the
19th Century English poet, John Keats, some recent commentators in
the tradition of psychotherapy and counselling talk of this attribute as the
need for ‘negative capablility’ in our pastoral interactions with others. Keats
used the term to specify a key attribute of the poet which makes a person:
‘capable of being in uncertainties, Mysteries, doubts, without any irritable
reaching after fact and reason.’ (Keats 1970:43).Robert French, a contemporary
commentator, writes:
‘Thus, Keats’s poet is ‘related’ to the therapist,
and indeed to many other ‘family members’: mother, teacher, priest, consultant,
manager – anyone, perhaps, whose role involves responsibility for others. What
links them is this ‘disposition of indifference’, which Pines called ‘aeolian’
after the aeolian harp: ‘ to show how the therapist’s mind can be stirred by
the communication of the patient, and how, unselfconsciously, the therapist
finds himself responding in depth to the patient’s hidden meanings’’ (French 2000:3)
This attitude of ‘unknowing’ opens up new possibilities in our
engagements with the people we care for. The British Object Relations analyst,
Wilfred Bion, was aware of Keats’s dictum and tried to put it into practice in
his interactions with clients saying:
‘Discard your memory; discard the future tense of
our desire; forget them both, both what you knew and what you want, to leave
space for a new idea.’ (Bion 1980:11)
He suggested we must have the courage and humility to step into this
‘space of unknowing’ when we engage with others. A place that requires us to
put aside our memories, our need to control, our need to define – all the
whirring chatter of the ‘monkey mind’ – and allow ourselves to be present for
the other before us:
‘When we are in the office with a patient we have
to dare to rest. It is difficult to see what is at all frightening about that,
but it is. It is difficult to remain quiet and let the patient have a chance to
say whatever he or she has to say. It is
frightening for the patient – and the patient hates it. We are under constant
pressure to say something, to admit that we are doctors or psychoanalysts or
social workers to supply some box into which we can be put complete with a
label.’ (Bion 1980:11)
As professional carers there is a pressure to be ‘the expert’ or the
‘wise one’ whereas often what is required is for us to have the humility to
divest ourselves of our power position. To do this may challenge our very
selves as well as our roles and make us question again why we do the work we do.
3. Ambiguity and Paradox
The contemporary soul-maker must live in the realm of ambiguity that is
the soul’s true home. Whether with a client, facing a dream or working on the
self, the demands of the soul require an openness to the ambiguity that lies at
the heart of the human personality. Imagination, for Hillman, becomes the place
where we uniquely play with the self in its efforts to overcome the
straightjacket of the post-Cartesian ‘I’. For him, the world of Cartesian
dualism allows ‘no space for the intermediate, ambiguous and metaphorical’ (RVP:xii).
Rather it is the place inhabited by living subjects and dead objects. All
affect is removed from the world around us. In Hillman’s writing, following as
we have seen Plotinus and the Neo-Platonists, this place of ambiguity will
become populated by the world of ‘archetype’ and ‘daemones’. For Christian writers such as Stein (following Augustine
and Aquinas) the ambiguity of the self is held in the tension of the Trinity, where
Christ becomes the unity of apperception for the individual believer. The
paradox of the Trinitarian vision thus reflects the paradox that lies at the
heart of human personhood.
4. The Symbolic, Creative and Artistic
With Rank we saw that
creativity must play a decisive role in any future ‘soul-psychology’. Likewise,
with Hillman we see the importance he attached, as a post-Jungian, to the role
of imagination and the symbolic. As he puts it in Revisioning Psychology:
Psychological
faith begins in the love of images, and it flows mainly through the shapes of
persons in reveries, fantasies, reflections and imaginations... (the ego’s)
trust is in the imagination as the only uncontrovertible reality, directly
presented, immediately felt. (RVP:50)
For analysis goes on
in the soul’s imagination and not just in the clinic for we let imagination
speak for itself without interpretation. Or as my training analyst, Hymie Wyse,
used to put it, in analysis the analyst must pray: ‘Lead us not into
interpretation!’ The soul/psyche for Hillman is at root imaginal and myth is in
the natural discourse of the soul. In an earlier work (Tyler 2013a) I stressed
the links between the postmodern Jungian view of the symbolic with the
premodern medieval understanding of the symbol. As a great medievalist/renaissance
man, Hillman, like his mentor Jung, recognises the symbolic nature of the psyche and how the psyche really lives in the realm of the symbolic and mythic, for
‘the imaginal does not explain, myths are not explanations’. As such the
symbolic utterings of the soul ‘are bound to ritual happenings; they are
stories, as our fantasies are, which project us into participation with the
phenomena they tell about so that the need for explanation falls away’ (MA:202).
Hillman is here, I believe, pointing out an essential quality of
‘soul-language’ – that is, that it is a ‘performative’ rather than an
‘informative’ language (Tyler 2011).
For Hillman the symbolic is indicative of that mode of consciousness
that ‘recognises all realities as primarily symbolic or metaphorical’
experienced through ‘reflective speculation, dream, image and fantasy’ (RVP:x).
The symbolic sources of the soul thus lie very close to the sources of creative
and artistic endeavour and thus the pursuit of the soul will often manifest
itself through these means.
5. The Relational and Libidinal
Soul-making is at heart a relational process. In Rank’s words, analysis
is ‘an art of love’ and the relationship between the
soul-seeker and soul-maker is at the heart of the matter. The Platonic
tradition always emphasised the role of eros
in this relationship. In contrast to Hillman, who sees the Christian
tradition as suppressing the role of eros,
I would rather argue that thinkers as diverse as Merton, Stein and Wittgenstein
present an embodied Christian view of the self that maintains the transcendent
through relationship with the bodily and libidinal. The soul is found not in
flight from the body but in the very embrace of its ambiguity and libido. This
is not surprising. For, despite Augustine’s famous suspicion of
‘concupiscence’, there were sufficient alternative (neo-Platonic) strands of
early Christian anthropology in writers such as Evagrius and Origen to preserve
alternative narratives of the soul in the Christian tradition. As I have
demonstrated elsewhere (Tyler 2011), the medieval traditions of the theologia mystica with their Dionysian
emphasis were sufficient to keep this tradition alive. Despite Hillman’s
caricature of Christianity as a life-denying and anti-libidinal locus (and he
is of course not alone here) I would argue that this is far from the case and
there are sufficient traces of this alternative relational and libidinal
anthropology in the Christian tradition to allow a future Christian
anthropology, open to the possibilities of the libidinal, to flourish. The
future of the soul lies in the libidinal and relational.
Monday, 25 January 2016
The Christian Sannyāsin: The Third Age and Christian Life.
Dear All
I am just putting the final touches to my chapter on Consecrated Life after our wonderful conference in Bangalore at the beginning of the month. I have already shared the beginning of the chapter and here are some extracts from the end and my discussion of the Christian and Hindu/Indian views of the 'end of life' - old age and renunciation.
All good wishes
Peter
In
his earlier essay of 1924, The Fourfold
Way of India, written when he was in his early sixties, Tagore makes a
strong contrast between the Western and Eastern approaches to life. ‘In Europe’,
he writes:
We
see only two divisions of man’s worldly life – the period of training and that
of work. It is like prolonging a straight line till, wearied, you drop off your
brush. (p.498)
For,
as he points out, ‘work is a process and cannot really be the end of anything’
and yet ‘Europe has omitted to put before man any definite goal in which its
work may find its natural termination an gain its rest’. India, on the other
hand, ‘has not advised us to come to a sudden stop while work is in full swing’
(p.499). And this is where the account
of the third and fourth stages of life differs so markedly from the dominant
narrative currently apparent in the West – that we prepare ourselves for work
(schools and universities being the places to acquire the necessary skills for
a life of work), we work (the most important part of our life) and then (if we
are lucky) we ‘retire’, or as Tagore puts it ‘drop off our brush’ to fill the
final years watching day-time TV or visiting the grandchildren. By contrast
what he presents us in the third and fourth stages of life is the deliberate
and calculated move to renunciation which is enshrined in the Indian tradition…
As
we have seen, even in Tagore’s own writing on the four-fold stages of life there
exists a tension and contradiction often reflecting his own mood and attitude
to his own life at the time of writing. When he got around to writing about the
phases in the late Religion of Man,
being nearly seventy, he felt able to give due weight to each of the phases and
their importance in individual development. Yet, as a young man, writing in
1892 in his early thirties and a decade after the Sudder Street revelation we
began this chapter with, he makes an interesting remark referring to the final
stage of renunciation – the sannyasi:
If
by nature I were a sanyasi, then I would have spent my life pondering life’s
transcience, and no day would have gone by without a solemn rite to the glory
of God. But I am not, and my mind is preoccupied instead by the beauty that
disappears from my life each day; I feel I do not appreciate it properly. [1]
And
a year later:
There
are two aspects to India: the householder and the sanyasi. The first refuses to
leave his home hearth, the second is utterly homeless. Inside me both aspects
are to be found. [2]
And
I think it is in this ‘creative unity’ that Tagore expressed in his life we
find the ‘coincidence of opposites’ that I think could best characterize the ‘Christian
sannyāsin’.
The
latter phase of life has increasingly become in the West a conflict and
struggle with Death as we slump in the sofa after a life of hard work. Hermann
Hesse, the Swiss poet, saw the art of life as the art of befriending death and
as Tagore famously put it, Death is simply the lowering of the lamps as the
dawn approaches…
Where
I think writers like Tagore are valuable is that they remind us that this final
stage moves beyond the purely psychological. For as the outer forms die we move
into a new place. A poetic place beyond the psychological and even the
theological. As Pope Francis says, a new child is born as we are called out of
the caves of our comfort zones (p.45). In the Indian tradition the Sannyāsin
‘owns no place and no person and has
to be by definition a solitary wanderer’ (Thottakara p.561). The Christian, in
contrast, by virtue of their consecration to Christ, remains in service to the
world even though they do not identify with the world’s goals and aims.[3] As
Perumpallikunnel points out (Mystical
Experience, p.680) the Indian sannyāsa
is one of renunciation without restriction, the emphasis is on the individual
relationship with God mediated by the guru and we find there is little emphasis
on the communitarian prayer such as the Eucharist as found in the Christian
tradition. Yet, in spite of the differences it is possible to see both Indian sannyāsa
and Christian consecrated life as two aspects of the final encounter and
relationship with the ultimate goal of human life – our encounter with the
limit of human mortality and the embrace of Sister Death. Thottakara calls it
‘the Yoga mind’ that integrates apparently bi-polar realities and he mentions
Fr Francis Vineeth CMI, founder of the Vidyavanam ashram near Bangalore, as an
example of a modern sadhu ‘who tries to awaken the religious-spiritual
consciousness of the sadhakas and develop in them a soul culture that is deeply
rooted in the age old principles of Indian spirituality and in the immensely
rich Christian spiritual traditions without at the same time negating the
positive values of matter, body and this world’ (p.558). At heart what Indian sannyāsa
and Christian consecrated life have in
common is that for both renunciation, whether of the world or the ego, must be
connected with love and surrender to the creator.[4] In
this way both Indian and Christian traditions embrace on the threshold of the
infinite.
‘Child, don’t you know who calls you lovingly?
Why this fear?
Death is just another name for what you call life,
Not an alien at all.
Why, come then and embrace her!
Come and Hold Her Hand!’
(R. Tagore, Endless
Death)[5]
[1]
Letter to his nephew, 15th June 1892 from Shelidah, reprinted in Glimpses of Bengal: Selected Letters by
Rabindranath Tagore, ed K. Dutta and A. Robinson, London: Macmillan, 1991.
[3]
Although as Thottakara notes in recent years both Buddhists, Hindus and Jains
have taken to more communitarian models of
sannyasin imitating in many ways Christian monastic models of service to
the world, the poor and downtrodden (p.562).
[4] It
is interesting that the entry to the final stage of sannyāsa in Indian tradition is accompanied by a renunciation
ceremony. The Christian tradition of consecrated life has no such ‘vow’ or
‘ceremony’ to mark this final phase – perhaps it might be something that could
be developed?
[5]Translated
by K. Dyson in I Won’t Let You Go:
Selected Poems. Glasgow: Bloodaxe, 1991, p.74. ‘When a sannyasin dies, no
funeral rites are performed; there is no mourning’ (Thottakara p.572).
Thursday, 21 January 2016
Tuesday, 19 January 2016
India Dialogue Visit - January 2016
Dear All
Please find attached below a report on my recent eventful visit to India. Many thanks again to all who made my stay so memorable.
Kind Regards
Peter
My visit to India began in Bangalore with a
plenary address at the International Conference organised by Vinayasadhana (The
Institute of Formative Spirituality and Counselling) at Dharmaram Vidya
Kshetram (DVK) – a theological institute run by the Carmelites of Mary of
Immaculate (CMI). The conference celebrated the end of the Year of Consecrated
Life initiated by Pope Francis in December 2014 and its title was ‘Consecrated
Life in the Globalized Era: Catholic, Ecumenical and Interreligious
Perspectives’, coordinated by our genial host, Fr Saju Chackalackal CMI, Dean
of the Faculty of Philosophy. I was asked to comment on the psychological
dynamics of consecrated life and took as my title, ‘The Awakening of the Heart:
Psycho-spiritual reflections on Consecrated Life’. Drawing on themes from the Bengali
Nobel Laureate, Rabindranath Tagore, and from Western writers including James
Fowler, Carl Jung and Robert Johnson I looked at consecrated life from the
perspective of the human life cycle. To conclude I drew on recent reflections
on the life of the Indian sannyasi from the writings of Fr Augustine Thottakara
CMI and Fr Kurian Perumpallikunnel CMI, with the latter of whom I was delighted
to share my plenary session so that an interesting dialogue developed. Some of
the talk has been placed on this blog already and it is hoped the rest will
appear in an edited volume of the proceedings from the conference later this
year. Notable speakers at the conference also included Prof Kees Waaijman from
the Titus Bradsma Institute in the Netherlands and Prof Franco Imoda SJ,
President of AVEPRO at the Holy See and former Rector of the Gregorian
University in Rome and Swami Sadananda. All of whom contributed interesting
insights to a fascinating event.
After
the conference in the congenial surroundings of DVK I travelled to Vidyavanam
Ashram on the outskirts of Bangalore at Bannaghatta National Park. This
Christian Ashram in the Indian tradition was initiated by the 81 year old Fr
Frances Vineeth CMI. Fr Vineeth was present in the ashram throughout the week
and I was privileged to record a series of addresses, meditations and
interviews with him which I hope to work on in the coming months to prepare an
article assessing the work of this remarkable pioneer of Hindu-Christian
dialogue. During my stay Fr Vineeth spoke with eloquence and passion about the
influence of the Hindu scriptures on his life and thought, the foundation of
Vidyavanam and the life of the Christian sannyasi. I was accompanied by Fr Jose
Nandhikkara CMI, another keen worker on Hindu-Christian dialogue and along with
the other ashramites we enjoyed days full of yoga, meditation, discourse and a
chance to enjoy the beauties of the Indian natural world.
At
the end of the week I returned once again to DVK to form part of the ‘jury’ for
the public defence of Dominican PhD candidate: Fr Vinoy Thomas Paikkattu OP. Fr
Vinoy is one of 100 Indian Dominicans (refounded from the Irish Dominican
province – we had many friends in common) and his thesis was entitled: ‘To be Human,
to be Relational: An Analysis of Aquinas and Wittgenstein for a Philosophical
Anthropology’. I had not conducted a public doctoral defence in India before
and the hall was crowded with family, friends and fellow students. I was
enormously impressed by Fr Vinoy’s sang
froid in front of such public exposure and was secretly grateful for our
more private British system of closed doctoral vivas as I am sure I would not
have stood it as well as he did. We awarded him a distinction for his excellent
thesis and defence.
As
my time in India drew to a close I had one final surprise. On my last evening I
met four young Tibetans from the nearby Sera monastery at Mysore who had risked
life and limb, giving up their homes and families, to trek across the high
Himalayas so that they could practise their religion and studies in peace in
India. They asked if I could spend my last morning in Bangalore teaching them
something of the Christian mystical tradition. Not surpisingly, I took as my
‘sutra’, Teresa of Avila’s ‘Interior Castle’ and with Fr Mathew Chandrankunnel
CMI we engaged in an interesting discussion on this ‘honorary Tibetan’
discussing the ‘seven levels of consciousness’ in her writing and its similarity
to Tibetan models of thought. Themes I hope to explore in future writings.
I
left India with a sense of having been lucky to meet some outstanding
practitioners of dialogue and with plenty of material to work on in the coming
months. I am very grateful to all the kindness and help shown me by the staff
and students of DVK and Vidyavanam and am looking forward to future
collaborative work between DVK and St Mary’s Twickenham in the form of
conferences, publications and visits.
Om Shanti Shanti Shanti!
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