That man is richest whose pleasures are the cheapest.   
~ Thoreau, Henry David

CONSUMER PATICCA SAMUPPADA


With an understanding of the basic model of paticca samuppada, we now will apply it to the issues explored in Chapter I concerning the development of our global consumer culture. Using paticca samuppada not only offers another critical tool for looking at consumer culture, but it also entails a methodology for leading out of it. Paticca samuppada is part of an integrated system of critique and practical problem solving. By using it here we can form a bridge between our critique and our discovery of solutions and a greater mode of living beyond consumer culture.


1. IGNORANCE (avijja)
Generally, we take our sense of "self" as a given. In modern society, we can play around with it by getting a new hairstyle or quitting alcohol, but we tend to see it as this core foundation on which we experience life. Not-self challenges this idea by showing (graphically in the case of paticca samuppada) that what we consider this core foundation of "self" or soul, our conventional selves, is a very volatile system constructed by causes and conditions. By showing the infinite malleability of the construction in Not-self, Buddhism instructs us to challenge the depths of our conditioned selves and to not take anything for granted (such as our sense of "self") as being set in stone. This can be an extremely frightening idea and practice since we have spent so much time building this "self" to protect and entertain us. Without it, it seems we are without a shelter in the storm. Yet on the other hand, it is the most liberative idea and practice since it frees us from the bird cage in which we have constructed and limited ourselves.


This essential truth of Buddhism is key to our consumer culture, because our consumer culture is so rooted in the material. The fetishization of the material conditions us to more deeply objectify the "self" as a concrete form. This positing of a concrete "self" also implies an Ignorance of Impermanence (anicca). Consumerism is rooted in what the Buddha saw as the Ignorance of extreme realism (atthikavada) and eternalism (sassatavada) in which people see things and others as separate, real, fixed and enduring.1 The consumerist energy towards acquiring goods (and images) as a means towards defining and fulfilling one's "self" is just this kind of extreme realism and eternalism. The susceptibility of any consumer good to breakdown (Impermanence) reveals the inability to provide lasting satisfaction (Dukkha) and the fallacy of trying to fill up a transient "self" with transient things (Not-self) .



MENTAL STEWING
2. CONCOCTING (sankhara)
3. CONSCIOUSNESS (vinnana)
4. MIND-BODY (namarupa)
5. SENSE EXPERIENCE (salayatana)


THE WHEEL OF CHANGE

Pray not! the Darkness will not brighten! Ask


Nought from the Silence, for it cannot speak! Vex not your mournful minds with pious pains!


Ah! Brothers, Sisters! seek


Nought from the helpless gods by gift and hymn,


Nor bribe with blood, nor feed with fruit and cakes; Within yourselves deliverance must be sought;


Each man his prison makes.



Forever -- is composed of Nows --


Forever -- is composed of Nows --
'Tis not a different time --
Except for Infiniteness --
And Latitude of Home --


From this -- experienced Here --
Remove the Dates -- to These --
Let Months dissolve in further Months --
And Years -- exhale in Years --


Without Debate -- or Pause --
Or Celebrated Days --
No different Our Years would be
From Anno Domini's --



― Emily Dickinson (1862)



Me from Myself -- to banish



Me from Myself -- to banish --
Had I Art --
Impregnable my Fortress
Unto All Heart --


But since Myself -- assault Me --
How have I peace
Except by subjugating
Consciousness?


And since We're mutual Monarch
How this be
Except by Abdication --
Me -- of Me?


~ Emily Dickinson (1862)



Love After Love


The time will come 
when, with elation
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror
and each will smile at the other's welcome,


and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you


all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,


the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.


~ Derek Walcott

Ozymandias of Egypt


I met a traveler from an antique land 
Who said:—Two vast and trunkless legs of stone 
Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand, 
Half sunk, a shatter'd visage lies, whose frown 
And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command 
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read 
Which yet survive, stamp'd on these lifeless things, 
The hand that mock'd them and the heart that fed. 
And on the pedestal these words appear: 
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: 
Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!" 
Nothing beside remains: round the decay 
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare, 
The lone and level sands stretch far away. 


~ by Percy Bysshe Shelley 

All The World's A Stage


All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slippered pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.


~ William Shakespeare

Who Among You Will Take Up


XXXI


"Who among you will take up the duty of feeding the hungry?" Lord Buddha
asked his followers when famine raged at Shravasti.
Ratnâkar, the banker, hung his head and said, "Much more is needed than all my wealth to feed the hungry."
Jaysen, the chief of the King's army, said, "I would gladly give my life's
blood, but there is not enough food in my house."
Dharmapâal, who owned broad acres of land, said with a sigh, "The drought
demon has sucked my fields dry. I know not how to pay King's dues."
Then rose Supriyâ, the mendicant's daughter.
She bowed to all and meekly said, "I will feed the hungry."
"How!" they cried in surprise. "How can you hope to fulfil that vow?"
"I am the poorest of you all," said Supriyâ, "that is my strength. I have
my coffer and my store at each of your houses."


~ Rabindranath Tagore

CHUPKE CHUPKE RAAT DIN




Chupke chupke raat din
aansu bahaana yaad hai
Humko ab tak aashiqui ka
voh zamaana yaad hai
Chupke chupke raat din
aansu bahaana yaad hai

In the hush of night and day
I remember spilling tears
Those days of heady love
I remember my age of romance
In the hush of night and day
I remember spilling tears

YOUR DREAMS AND MINE


tere, mere, sapne, 
YOUR DREAMS AND MINE

ab ek rangg hai.n, 
ARE NOW OF THE SAME HUE,

Ohhh…

jahaa.n bhee le jaaye.n raahe.n, 
WHEREVER THE PATHS MAY LEAD

hamm sangg hai.n, 
WE’RE TOGETHER.

Ohh….

tere mere sapne, 
YOUR DREAMS AND MINE

ab ek rangg hai.n, 
ARE NOW OF THE SAME HUE,

Ohhh…

jahaa.n bhee le jaaye.n raahe.n, 
WHEREVER THE PATHS MAY LEAD

hamm sangg hai.n… 
WE’RE TOGETHER!

mere tere dil kaa, 
MY HEART AND YOURS

tayy thaah ek din milnaa, 
WERE FATED TO MEET ONE DAY,

jaise bahaar aane par, 
AS WHEN THE SPRING COMES

tayy hai phool kaa khilnaa, 
THE FLOWERS ARE DESTINED TO BLOOM .

mere tere dil kaa, 
MY HEART AND YOURS

tayy thaah ek din milnaa, 
WERE FATED TO MEET ONE DAY,

jaise bahaar aane par, 
AS WHEN THE SPRING COMES

tayy hai phool kaa khilnaa, 
THE FLOWERS ARE DESTINED TO BLOOM,

o mere jeevan saathee,
O SOUL-MATE OF MINE!


This is the Blossom on our human tree..

This is the Blossom on our human tree 
Which opens once in many myriad years —
But when opened, fills the world with 
Wisdom's scent and Love's dropped honey.

~ Sir Edwin Arnold


Winter - by Gibran




Come close to me, oh companion of my full life;
Come close to me and let not Winter's touch
Enter between us. Sit by me before the hearth,
For fire is the only fruit of Winter.


Speak to me of the glory of your heart, for
That is greater than the shrieking elements
Beyond our door.
Bind the door and seal the transoms, for the
Angry countenance of the heaven depresses my
Spirit, and the face of our snow-laden fields
Makes my soul cry.


Feed the lamp with oil and let it not dim, and
Place it by you, so I can read with tears what
Your life with me has written upon your face.


Bring Autumn's wine. Let us drink and sing the
Song of remembrance to Spring's carefree sowing,
And Summer's watchful tending, and Autumn's
Reward in harvest.


Come close to me, oh beloved of my soul; the
Fire is cooling and fleeing under the ashes.
Embrace me, for I fear loneliness; the lamp is
Dim, and the wine which we pressed is closing
Our eyes. Let us look upon each other before
They are shut.
Find me with your arms and embrace me; let
Slumber then embrace our souls as one.
Kiss me, my beloved, for Winter has stolen
All but our moving lips.


You are close by me, My Forever.
How deep and wide will be the ocean of Slumber,
And how recent was the dawn!

The tame bird and the free bird

The tame bird was in a cage, the free bird was in the forest,
They met when the time came, it was a decree of fate.
The free bird cries, "O my love, let us fly to wood."
The cage bird whispers, "Come hither, let us both live in the cage."
Says the free bird, "Among bars, where is there room to spread one's wings?"
"Alas," cries the cage bird, "I should not know where to sit perched in the sky."


The free bird cries, "My darling, sing the songs of the woodlands."
The cage bird sings, "Sit by my side, I'll teach you the speech of the learned."
The forest bird cries, "No, ah no! songs can never be taught."
The cage bird says, "Alas for me, I know not the songs of the woodlands."


There love is intense with longing, but they never can fly wing to wing.
Through the bars of the cage they look, and vain is their wish to know each other.
They flutter their wings in yearning, and sing, "Come closer, my love!"
The free bird cries, "It cannot be, I fear the closed doors of the cage."
The cage bird whispers, "Alas, my wings are powerless and dead."


~ Tagore


One Day In Spring....

One day in spring, a woman came
In my lonely woods,
In the lovely form of the Beloved.
Came, to give to my songs, melodies,
To give to my dreams, sweetness.
Suddenly a wild wave
Broke over my heart's shores
And drowned all language.
To my lips no name came,
She stood beneath the tree, turned,
Glanced at my face, made sad with pain,
And with quick steps, came and sat by me.
Taking my hands in hers, she said:
'You do not know me, nor I you-
I wonder how this could be?'
I said:
'We two shall build, a bridge for ever
Between two beings, each to the other unknown,
This eager wonder is at the heart of things.'


The cry that is in my heart is also the cry of her heart;
The thread with which she binds me binds her too.
Her have I sought everywhere,
Her have I worshipped within me,
Hidden in that worship she has sought me too.
Crossing the wide oceans, she came to steal my heart.
She forgot to return, having lost her own.
Her own charms play traitor to her,
She spreads her net, knowing not
Whether she will catch or be caught.


~ Tagore

You are your own forerunner

You are your own forerunner, and the towers you have builded are but the foundation of your giant-self. And that self too shall be a foundation.


And I too am my own forerunner, for the long shadow stretching before me at sunrise shall gather under my feet at the noon hour. Yet another sunrise shall lay another shadow before me, and that also shall be gathered at another noon.


Always have we been our own forerunners, and always shall we be. And all that we have gathered and shall gather shall be but seeds for fields yet unploughed. We are the fields and the ploughmen, the gatherers and the gathered.


HOME

"In the past 200,000 years, humans have upset the balance of planet Earth, a balance established by nearly four billion years of evolution. We must act now. It is too late to be a pessimist. The price is too high. Humanity has little time to reverse the trend and change its patterns of consumption"

Watch the film here:



  • 20 % OF THE PEOPLE ON EARTH CONSUME MORE THAN 80 % OF THE PLANET’S RESOURCES.
  • WORLD MILITARY EXPENDITURE IS 12 TIMES HIGHER THAN AID TO DEVELOPMENT.
  • 5,000 PERSONS A DAY DIE BECAUSE OF UNHEALTHY WATER. A BILLION PEOPLE DO NOT HAVE ACCESS TO DRINKABLE WATER.
  • A BILLION PEOPLE ARE HUNGRY.
  • MORE THAN 50 % OF THE GRAIN SOLD IN THE WORLD IS DESTINED TO FEED LIVESTOCK AND FOR BIO-FUEL.
  • 40 % OF CULTIVABLE LAND HAS DETERIORATED.



  • EACH YEAR, 13 MILLIONS HECTARES OF FOREST DISAPPEAR.
  • ONE MAMMAL IN 4, ONE BIRD IN 8, AND ONE AMPHIBIAN IN 3, IS THREATENED WITH EXTINCTION.
  • SPECIES ARE BECOMING EXTINCT AT A RATE THAT IS 1,000 TIMES HIGHER THAN THE NATURAL RHYTHM.
  • THREE QUARTERS OF THE FISHING RESOURCES ARE EXHAUSTED, IN DECLINE, OR ON THE VERGE OF BEING SO.
  • THE AVERAGE TEMPERATURES IN THE LAST 15 YEARS HAVE BEEN THE HIGHEST EVER RECORDED.
  • THE ICE FIELD HAS LOST 40 % OF ITS THICKNESS IN 40 YEARS.
  • THERE COULD BE 200 MILLION CLIMATIC REFUGEES BEFORE 2050.



Tha Mi Sgith


i carry your heart


i carry your heart with me (i carry it in
my heart) i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)
                                                      
i fear no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet) i want
no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you


here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart


i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)






~ E E Cummings

The Gift of Magi


- by O. Henry


One dollar and eighty-seven cents. That was all. And sixty cents of it was in pennies. Pennies saved one and two at a time by bulldozing the grocer and the vegetable man and the butcher until one's cheeks burned with the silent imputation of parsimony that such close dealing implied. Three times Della counted it. One dollar and eighty-seven cents. And the next day would be Christmas.


There was clearly nothing to do but flop down on the shabby little couch and howl. So Della did it. Which instigates the moral reflection that life is made up of sobs, sniffles, and smiles, with sniffles predominating.


While the mistress of the home is gradually subsiding from the first stage to the second, take a look at the home. A furnished flat at $8 per week. It did not exactly beggar description, but it certainly had that word on the lookout for the mendicancy  squad.


In the vestibule below was a letter-box into which no letter  would go, and an electric button from which no mortal finger could coax a ring. Also appertaining thereunto was a card bearing the name " Mr.  James Dillingham Young."

Leisure


"What is this life of, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.
No time to stand beneath the boughs
And stare as long as sheep or cows.
No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.
No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night.
No time to turn at Beauty's glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance.
No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began.
A poor life this is if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare."


~ W. H. Davies

TRUTH


And if sun comes
How shall we greet him?
Shall we not dread him,
Shall we not fear him
After so lengthy a
Session with shade?


Though we have wept for him,
Though we have prayed
All through the night-years--
What if we wake one shimmering morning to
Hear the fierce hammering
Of his firm knuckles
Hard on the door?


Shall we not shudder?--
Shall we not flee
Into the shelter, the dear thick shelter
Of the familiar
Propitious haze?


Sweet is it, sweet is it
To sleep in the coolness
Of snug unawareness.
The dark hangs heavily
Over the eyes.


~ Gwendolyn Brooks (1949)



Koi umeed bar nahi aati...



Koi umeed bar nahi aati
Koi surat nazar nahi aati

There is no hope to be found
There is no resolution to be sought

Maut ka aik din moeyyin hai
Neend kyun raat bhar nahi aati

Death is destined to arrive one day
But why does sleep fail to come all night

Aage aati thi haal-e-dil pe hansi
Ab kisi baat par nahi aati

Once I was able to laugh at the predicament of my heart
Now I am unable to laugh at anything

Jaanta hun sawab-e-ta’at-o-zuhad
Par tabeeyat idhar nahi aati

Though I am aware of the rewards of prayer and virtue
But I am prohibited by my disposition

Hai kuch aisi hi baat, jo chup hoon
Warna kiya baat kar nahi aati

This matter is such that I am prevented from speaking of it
Otherwise what is there that I cannot speak of

Kyun na cheekhun ke yaad karte hain
Meri awaaz gar nahi aati

Why shouldn’t I shout for I reminisce
Yet my voice fails to produce any sound

Daagh-e-dil, gar nazar nahi aata
Boo bhi aye chaara gar nahi aati?

Though the wound of my heart cannot be seen
but my healer, even a trace of its smoldering is missing

Ham wahan hein, jahan se hum ko bhi
Kuch hamari khabar nahi aati

I am in such a state, from where even I am
Unable to get any news of myself

Marte hein aarzoo mein marne ki
Maut aati hai, par nahi aati

I am dying of impatience in hope of death
Death appears,yet fails to arrive

Kaabe kis munh se jao ge Ghalib!
Sharm tum to magar nahi aati!

How will you go to Kaaba, O Ghalib!
You do not bear any shame!



THE BLIND MEN AND THE ELEPHANT


It was six men of Indostan
To learning much inclined,
Who went to see the Elephant
(Though all of them were blind),
That each by observation
Might satisfy his mind.

The First approach'd the Elephant,
And happening to fall
Against his broad and sturdy side,
At once began to bawl:
"God bless me! but the Elephant
Is very like a wall!"


The Second, feeling of the tusk,
Cried, -"Ho! what have we here
So very round and smooth and sharp?
To me 'tis mighty clear
This wonder of an Elephant
Is very like a spear!"


The Third approached the animal,
And happening to take
The squirming trunk within his hands,
Thus boldly up and spake:
"I see," quoth he, "the Elephant
Is very like a snake!"


The Fourth reached out his eager hand,
And felt about the knee.
"What most this wondrous beast is like
Is mighty plain," quoth he,
"'Tis clear enough the Elephant 
Is very like a tree!"

The Fifth, who chanced to touch the ear,
Said: "E'en the blindest man
Can tell what this resembles most;
Deny the fact who can,
This marvel of an Elephant
Is very like a fan!"


The Sixth no sooner had begun
About the beast to grope,
Then, seizing on the swinging tail
That fell within his scope,
"I see," quoth he, "the Elephant
Is very like a rope!"


And so these men of Indostan
Disputed loud and long,
Each in his own opinion
Exceeding stiff and strong,
Though each was partly in the right,
And all were in the wrong!


~ John Godfrey Saxe's ( 1816-1887)




The Fisherman and the Businessman


There was once an American businessman who was sitting by the beach in a small Mexican village. As he sat, he saw a Mexican fisherman rowing a small boat towards the shore and noticed that the fisherman has caught quite a number of big fishes that is known to be a delicacy. The American was really impressed and asked the fisherman, "How long does it take you to catch so many fishes?"


The fisherman replied, "Oh, just a short while."


"Then why don't you stay longer at sea and you could catch even more?" The businessman was astonished.


The fisherman simply does not agree. "This is enough to feed my whole family," he says.


The businessman then asked, "So, what do you do for the rest of the day then?"


The fisherman replied, "Well, I usually wake up early in the morning, go out to sea and catch a few fishes, then I would go back and play with my kids. In the afternoon, I will take a nap with my wife, and evening comes, I will join my buddies in the village for a drink, we play guitar, sing and dance throughout the night. My days are ever so complete and carefree."


The businessman does not agree with his way of life and offered a suggestion to the fisherman.


"I am a PhD holder graduated from Harvard University, specializing in business management. I could help you to become a more successful person. From now on, you have to spend more time at sea and try to catch as many fishes as possible. And when you have saved enough money, you could buy a bigger boat and catch even more fishes. As you go on, you will be able to afford to buy more boats, recruit more fishermen and lead a team of your own. Soon you will be able to set up your own company, your very own production plant for canned food and do direct selling to your distributors. At that time, you will have moved out of this village and to Mexico City, and then expand your operation to LA, and finally to New York City, where you can set up your HQ to manage all your other branches."


The fisherman asks, "So, how long would that take?"


The businessman reply, "About 15 to 20 years."

The fisherman continues, "And after that?"


The businessman laughs heartily, "After that, you can live like a king in your own house, and when the time is right, you can go public and float your shares in the Stock Exchange, by then you will be rich, your income will be coming in by the millions!"


The fisherman asks, "And after that?"


The businessman says, "After that, you can finally retire, you can move to a house by the fishing village, wake up early in the morning and catch a few fishes, then return home to play with kids, have a nice afternoon nap with your wife, and when evening comes, you can join your buddies for a drink, play the guitar, sing and dance throughout the night!"


The fisherman was puzzled, "Isn't that what I am doing now?"