Speculative Non-Buddhism
Stranger Sutraruins of the buddhist real
 | Kritik am (westliche… on Thich Nhat Hanh’s Imaginary So… |
| Kritik am (westliche… on The Case Against Buddhism |
| On Selves and Master… on Stranger Sutra | |
 | Drew on Buddhofascism: B. Alan Wallace… |
 | Dave on Buddhofascism: B. Alan Wallace… |
 | sploof on Table of Contents |
 | Tom Pepper on The Radical Potential of Shin… |
| Galen Gorelangton on The Radical Potential of Shin… | |
| Ich und meine Teetas… on Thich Nhat Hanh’s Imaginary So… |
 | ctctarot on Mindful Lobotomy |
 | Glenn Wallis on (Non)Buddhist Practice Posse O… |
 | B Woods on (Non)Buddhist Practice Posse O… |
 | David Edward Keen on Thich Nhat Hanh’s Imaginary So… |
 | cgnmin on Buddhofascism: B. Alan Wallace… |
 | Lt. Orr on Buddhofascism: B. Alan Wallace… |
The stranger proclaims: To you, World, I refuse.
The stranger is adept at identifying and resisting alienating representations.
The stranger proclaims: To you, World, I give.
By means of interminable negation the stranger reinvigorates being and thought in the face of the void—radical immanence; empty reality; para-zero; the axiomatic; the quasi; the apophatic; the dark night; the desert; the philofictional Real.
The stranger transfuses the symptom, exposed in the yearning embrace of the curative fantasy of ideological self-sufficiency, into a sovereign discernment for going forward.
Transfusion occurs in subjective submersion. We are speaking here of the decomposition that precedes bioremediation. We are speaking here of the inalienable poverty that begets the stranger.
Sunk in inalienable poverty, the stranger emerges fit for the clash with Hell.
Now, go to an isolated place. Sit down, and straighten your body. Establishing immanental awareness right where you are, breathe in, simply aware, then breathe out, simply aware. Continue:
I breathe in, knowing I am breathing in. I breathe out, knowing I am breathing out.
I breathe in, sensitive to my entire body. I breathe out, sensitive to my entire body.
I breathe in, aware of my emotional climate. I breathe out, aware of my emotional climate.
I breathe in, cognizant of mental oscillation. I breathe out, cognizant of mental oscillation.
I breathe in, observing the arising of the breath.
I breathe out, observing the dissolution of the breath.
I breathe in, experiencing connection.
I breathe out, letting go.
Decomposition with breathing is rich in results for the person and is of benefit to society. But only if it remains an insufficient practice. When taken as sufficient, it conspires with the New Age Apocalypse. That is the name for a pernicious Idea circulating within “spiritual” ideologies from time immemorial. It names a cataclysmic shift in this and that consciousness, a shift which augurs the dawn of an eternally utopian World. Decisive to this conceit is the fact that the new world comes into being not through collective social action or through revolutionary operations on material structures, but rather precisely through such a “shift in consciousness.” That is the first warning… Decomposition with breathing is rich in results for the person and is of benefit to society. But only if it remains on the side of the living. When applied as a pharmakon for mystical death, for the annihilation or alteration of consciousness, or even for the imaginary plenitude of calm contemplation, it conspires with the Spiritual Death Drive. In the pile-driving brutality that is our current capitalist reality, we are lulled to the shores of nirvanic quietude. This is the second warning.
Decomposition with breathing is rich in results for the person and is of benefit to society. It places the practitioner in the teeming ruin where person and World intersect and transfuse. The soil of this ruin is brimming with the fungal mycelia that produce the electrifying flows—biological, psychological, mythological, narratological, ideological—that we call existence. We vigorously apply a fiction: What unfolds in the ruin of our practice is like the process of bioremediation, whereby, through organic decomposition, contaminants are eradicated from the soil. Be clear: remediation is not a metaphor for spiritualized purification. Think, rather, stimulation and augmentation of earth-incrusted organic matter.
That’s it.
And then, the stranger leaves the ruin.
Toward what end?
To struggle against the powers of the World.
To clash with Hell.
Way to go, Wallis. I’d love to see more of this. Is this what you mean by Buddho-fiction?
Thank you, Shaun. Yes, it’s an example of buddhofiction. That means, too, that’s it’s a serious practice, or, a practice intended seriously.
“Decomposition with breathing is rich in results for the person and is of benefit to society. But only if it remains an insufficient practice… To struggle against the powers of the World. To clash with Hell.” Oh my goodness; sign me up!
Signed up. To the ruins…
But of course.
Glenn Wallis, I think.you have a good sense of breath practice. You could save some distress if you realized Bhavana is not one size fits all or a one awareness silver bullet.
I like you critique of the people that usurp the breath practice. If you think Nirvana is not just cessation.vut also reuniting with the beyond like a flame going out, fire returns to it’s original nature. So sati and then developing similtainiously Shampajaman. Or discernment ,the faculty that develops the 4 right efforts into the 7 enlightenment factors. And yes, Kensho includes the First fruit of Arhantship ,Shrotapana.
Jeez this is the first thing you’ve written that’s ever made sense to me. Thanks!
Pasquale, Re: “save some stress,” did you read the warning? This text/practice has nothing whatsoever to do with “nirvana,” “kensho,” and all the rest.
The other day I was strolling through town and thinking about pleasures of the sense and joy in the Spinozist sense. It was almost noon and a bit hot. Thus, cool and clear water seemed really appealing. Then I was suddenly reminded of this Buddha dude and I thought: “Wait a minute. Damn, this is starting to sound like what Glenn Wallis calls buddhofiction.”
So, I thought, why not – as the “Before You Comment” page here used to say – fling what I have against the wall? Here goes.
Is It Hot in Here?
Pleasures, in my experience, are always unsatisfying and disappointing in the end. Even when I eat my favorite food for the first time in a long time, have been looking forward to it for an hour and really enjoy the first couple bites… I barely notice that I’m eating it before I’m even halfway through. I think some Indian guy once called such an experience dukkha. From what I’ve heard, back in the day, that’s what one said when the wheel on a wagon wasn’t quite round and the wagon didn’t run smoothly. Can you imagine sitting in such a wagon with no way of getting off?
But the joy that comes with improving one’s understanding of the world is inexhaustible. It isn’t effortless bliss like a river of milk and honey. But drink enough milk and honey and you’ll just get sick, not to mention the damage to your health in the long run. No, improving one’s understanding requires effort, like taking water from a deep well. But this water is the most amazing refreshment: Cool and pure, it can help you stay alive in the scorching heat of the passions.
I’m not saying that we should renounce all pleasures. We cannot live on water alone. Let’s not look for an oasis where we can just remain and be happy with our clear water. Let’s stay in the desert and dig wells in the blazing sun. Let’s turn this desert lush green.