A close friend, who enjoyed a work shop I gave, asked me one afternoon if I had ever heard of Wei Wu Wei, aka Terence Gray? He handed me the book, “Open Secret,” and I asked him, “what’s it all about.” He replied, “I have no idea. Read it and let me know what you think it’s all about.” I took it home, opened it after dinner, and the next thing I knew it was dawn. I sat there stunned, with some vague awareness that his message not only resonated at some deep unconscious level, but this book was ‘the game changer’ in my life.’ In one full swoop, he made it clear why nothing is what we insist it is. There is reality, and then then there is our rendition of reality which is unreal and defended as real. In a cold sweat, I saw what worked and didn’t work about psychotherapy. I was too stunned to experience the humor inherent in reality, as he defined it. Years passed before I realized that the disparity of his view of reality, and the version of reality we argue for, is what humor is.
Wei Wu Wei devoted the later part of his life to the deconstruction of Buddhist philosophy. He made what appeared to be a very abstract topic relatively simple. His synthesis of Buddhist ideas illuminated what passes for polarization between West and East. On the surface, they appear to defend the notion of duality, but on closer inspection, what came into focus is that they are two aspects of a single process. East focused more on the origin of reality, while West focuses on defending the assumption that reality is really real. The input (East) manifests as the output (West), and the two work as one. East views West with humor, while West views East with periodic alarm.
The Upset between West and East manifests in the psychotherapeutic process. It is central to the question, “what is the origin of our suffering?” West defends the assumption that problems confirm that the self is real, while East says we create problems to defend the fiction the self is real. The debate comes down to whether the self is real, or not real, and the West’s defense of the assumption that the self is real borders on hysteria, which East identifies as indirect proof that we harbor doubts about the authenticity of the self. If the self is real, meaning actual and factual, then why do so many of us display a deep undercurrent of doubt about our self. On the surface, this doesn’t make sense if the self is real, but it does make sense if truth includes the possibility the self is invented and then defended as real, for a lifetime if need be.
If the self is invented, does that make it real, or does it make it the device we depend on to defend a bigger assumption that the self will substantiate who we insist we are? On the surface, the debate between East and West seems to be about the authenticity of the self, but, on closer inspection, this seems to be a metaphor for a much bigger question, namely: if the self is invented, who is the inventor of it? If the self is invented and not real, then who are we?
West clearly scrambles to defend what we want the real to be, and tends to shun East as ‘the fly in the ointment of reality.’ Does this disparity successfully defend duality, or only add to the mystery about the origin of duality? What came into focus for me was the realization that if the self is invented and not real, then suffering could be the price we pay for defending the fiction it is real. Indeed, it looks like time is the venue in which the vast majority work as a team to defend the assumption the self is real. Mind you, neurology can’t find the locus for the self anywhere in the brain. If it is invented, it must be a global concept we rely on to be a specific someone, as identified by the invented self.
In the next installment, I will discuss what made Wei Wu Wei’s message a game changer for me.
