To begin when there is no more beginning? We can think about what truth may be. But what kind of question is that!? If we do not really know what truth is, or how to recognize and feel it, then do we want for more knowledge? We certainly don't want to live forever with endless conjectures! Speculative thought is for fabulists, cultists and those who want to sell a lot of books. Instead, we hope to ground propositions in some elemental thing, like an intuitive certainty, or better, a demonstrable proof. Some kinds of knowledge are not easily shown, but that we experience them also does prove that some levels of consciousness transcend the embodied demarcation defined by the five ordinary senses: you dream about something happening to a family member, and it happens the next day; you say something and see it in print or hear it in a movie later the same day; and that bizarre coincidence as you think/speak and then hear your words coming from the mind of another living being... All of these kinds of preceptive sensory events have happened to me, and on many occasions. Let's just say that we haven't developed the physics to explain the vast worlds encompassed by the mind - at least, not yet...

To get to the deeper certainty that our instincts demand, we have to be open to receive nature's conceptual designs. We have to feel for truth, not like grasping in the dark, but as a sensitivity to harmonic chords. We have to hear the difference between good and bad, true and false. We may see it, too. Reality is our awareness of it. To touch the tree or taste the wine - we know only this first kind of truth - that of our senses. Philosophers and mystics have long wished to intuit certainty about other realities: ideal, sometimes divine domains of absolutely solid value - Greek forms, the afterlife and God - invisible and beyond experience as they may be... But why do we always expect such unlikely truths from the simple physical reality laid before us!? Perhaps just because we sense the impermanence of things, and can't shake the unease of mortality. On the other hand, infinite equations may reflect a subliminal sense for a larger whole that we haven't a chance to articulate.

Perhaps we must "make believe" things are true because we desire that the apparent necessity for something's truth is sufficient proof to equate the conviction with knowing certainly that it is the truth. But, we moderns have discounted this idea of truth. Convictions are merely conjectures; for it appears that faith depends on fabulously rational and irrational circles of logic - and very little evidence. As for those who do espouse beliefs, they fiercely exclaim that their knowledge of faithful truths needs no more evidence than having a strong claim for knowing "what is right." We see also that faith has forged an intimate relationship with morality, especially in the West, where it has been explicitly articulated, again and again. It is very different among Eastern creeds, which express morality implicitly: if you understand life as the Vedas and Sutras explain it, then you must see exactly how to live rightly, too.

We have intellectualized the spiritual sensations. For the scientist, evidence outmodes inspiration: we must pay for our certainty instead of getting it for free. Perhaps we sense the idea of absolute truth no longer resides outside us - as science would have us believe. Our sensation of truth may yet reside within. Yet one thing is certain: we have lost many absolutes, and as we shed their support, heritage breakdowns into more easily mixed elements; the new compounds arising from mingled traditions help us to realize that experience appears quite subjectively rooted within the understanding of the human mind. Any knowledge of external absolutes has already undergone a lengthy process of distillation, believe me... Unfortunately, competition between divergent propositions and theoretical viewpoints is responsible for scaring people into power-lusty reactions and counter-rebellions. The overspill of scientism has inspired a new hunger among those chilled by empty and cold ratiocinative paradigms - social, economic, scientific - which are supposed to replace our spiritual side... Observe this strange fact: ideas, like everything we produce, may be bought and sold according to the preferences of our collective mood. Surely it appears that whatever we think is right, must be: people no longer tolerate those things which are not agreeable to their concept of what "should be" believed in... Even if you dispose of truth and absolutes, you end up with a shadow of certainty and must filter everything through an ambivalent sort of cynicism, a crude political faith, a stance for the sake of holding opinions, or even a bland and typically crass indifference... Today, it's all a bit too black and white: god save you, or devil-may-care. It's as if the sensibility of subtlety has suffered. We moderns have often sacrificed each other to the need for preserving common perceptions, as if sharing some taste and adhering to a mass movement might save us from the stresses of "too much" individuality.

Let's go back in time and put it this way: we inherit and share our disposition to believe in truth and right. Others inherit a need to rebel against chronic contradictions and hypocrisies that, for instance, disguise taking with giving. Yet no matter what our personal disposition, in all such discussions about the possibilities for truth, the relationship between imagination and nature reveals that the scope of the human mind always holds itself responsible for trying to fulfill the most desirable conceptual world.

I'm all done with philosophy - because I'm positive that all systematic philosophy fails if we also assume that it can lead to some precise, absolute formulation of the truth: the nature of reality eludes the singular descriptions and theories so deeply emulated by famous idealists and other sentimental philosophers. Let me tell you one more thing before coming back down to Earth: I realize what the problems are, but when I can't discover their answers, I lose interest. Poetry is more satisfying because the language and the play of free ideas make us intimate with the artist's sensitivity: we are lead to imagine what the poet might mean for ourselves. So, poetry is more likely to give us a feeling for truth than philosophy will. Poetry gives us a very direct message and invites personal sensitivity to open up. As we read the poet's knowledge, as with the emotional and intellectual response to music, metaphor and moving musical evocativeness frees us from having to integrate each and every gram of meaning intellectually, which, on the other hand, you absolutely must do with each and every word while reading philosophy - if you want to understand it properly.

A great poet will give you to understand - purely, directly - and you can't miss it. You know and you feel what he wants you to feel. Poetry expresses the highest mind because it balances, synthesizes and expresses the essence of life experience.

...I lived through the earthquake and I nearly fell off the cliff. I enjoy being alive even more than ever! Oh, but I still have to go to work and pay the rent. I complain and forget how good things are for me - to be alive still. Our era has deceived us with promises of becoming much better than we already are. But we don't really need to be better than we are! Staying healthful ought to be enough. It's funny to suggest that we could "be better" than others... Better than what? Perhaps a commercial product can be better than an older model; but people are just people - we're born with imperfections. To holler about making yourself and others "better" is at least as horrifying as it is stupid. Perhaps this confusion of mercantile with psychic decrees merely evidences the reflex that tries, helplessly, to compensate for the decay of nobility and sensitivity, broken down as we are by the savage material lies of our unworldly, ill-bred ways. Now, if I complain about other people's illiteracy or disinterest, that must be at least half as much snobbery as it is a real problem in the world. What could we do to help settle it? At least we could begin by admitting that we permit wrong motives to invade and rule our most intimate relations. Animal cruelty sees to the defeat of compassion and love... Such meanness is popular and does great business today in many spheres, from easy-dimwit advertising to the horribly snobby world of art, literature, cinema and music... (mediocre snobby - superior snobby - popular snobby - money snobby - success snobby - snobby!) Maybe you too can learn how to win. Follow while pretending to lead: you'll be okay. Write your best-sellers!

Of course, we do tend to believe that the quality of life improves as we increase production and consumption, and the economy grows enough to permit the deep diffusion of resources and educational opportunities. I'm all for food on the table and technological tools... But I'm still afraid of humanity, that recklessly selfish being, built so shakily upon gross appetites and mean competition instead of good ideas and mutual encouragement... The world is very strange, and I wish it was different. I wish people were more capable of optimism and positive attitudes. We spend too much energy scaring each other, and then we turn cold and mean. How to revive our hearts is a challenge facing us today!

I have too many ideas, yet, I feel governed by too few assumptions. I suppose that you expect more refined notes for a larger more well organized opus, certainly something more than free form thought. But that's what you all want now: a narrow compendium that you can slot away under its appropriate categorical genre of "genome research," "perfect religion," "anthropological methodology," "leftist criticism" or "technological philosophy." Sorry. But it came out like this. I was sick in bed for a whole day. Nobody could see how dizzy and faint I was. Hey, I once read in a newsmagazine that 90% of the people who buy the books of currently famous "literary" authors never actually read those books, but leave them untouched on the eternal shelf; presumably, most of us simply do not have any time left over after all the dinner parties, business meetings, hard routine labor and television watching...

~ Morning in Lhasa promises sunlight instead of the usual rain. I want to see some sights. But I feel lazy. I've been here nearly a week. I haven't been to the Jokhang or the Potala yet. I'm not too cynical a person, and wouldn't exactly say that people like me are ruining Lhasa. But this town wasn't built for us.

All the Tibetans keep quietly to themselves. But you have to wonder why: is it because you are a foreigner, or because the Chinese are their bosses? Technocracy controls the populace. Foreign tourists - we with all our cash - how do we influence the character of the Tibetans? Maybe we make them worry about how to make a living themselves... We tourists oblige them to reproduce their culture for consumption. Have you ever been to Bali? Go and see what I mean. Tibetans know we are somehow curious about their "original" state. Most travellers come and go, and remain very much locked up in themselves. Tibetans surely know that tourists come from rich countries and pay a lot for life back home. But here in Tibet, we buy only what we need, and most tourists grouse if things seem more costly than the "third-world cheapness" we are led to expect... What do you think the Tibetans think about that? Do you think that meanness makes them like us? At the same time, Tibet has become a fabulous fad in the West: everybody wants to find out about its culture. Pretending to care about Tibet is a big business now. But only far away, in Europe and America. Having no effect is the actual result of that pretence. The present disenfranchisement of Tibet and its enduring religion fuels the fantasy life and the sentimental dreams of many Westerners who yearn for a lost (ie.: repressed) sense of wholeness and clear identity. Touristic fantasy merely permits us to forgo finally admitting to our worst mistakes...

Naturally, Tibetans must find our fascination with their culture somewhat odd, since after all, can you picture them going to the San Diego Zoo to see businessmen and orthodontists sitting in cages?

What's with us, anyway? Do we really believe that the Tibetans possessed the last untouched country on Earth? Maybe 100 years ago. What kind of vain illusion was that? Maybe only febrile intellects fret overmuch about cultural "authenticity." But how has the presence of foreigners in Lhasa changed the ideas that Tibetans have of the outside world? People in Lhasa are always trying to smile, and they show infinite curiosity about the people who come to see their city in summer. But they often remain very reserved in their contacts, as if they remember something we won't learn. They can only make a little money off us. Say no more...

If we could imagine the life of a Nomad and a tourist hawker, and then suddenly see ourselves from their point of view... How would we appear? Small and afraid of the big world we are trying to visit? Too cool and snobby? Rich and miserly? Carefree and adventurous? In a big hurry? What would a Tibetan guess about us? Crazy, blessed or possessed? Maybe we look like careless hypocrites and magic supermen. I don't think we want to see ourselves as others do...

...I once read that the Tibetans had a legend, an oral prophecy spoken long ago. It was about a stranger coming to Tibet. In this legend, it was foretold that when this foreigner arrived, life across the land would be changed forever. It was an apocalyptic vision about social transformation. Whoever came up with the prophecy was well aware that Tibet was unusually isolated, and knew that a wide world existed beyond its borders. Any change to Tibet was understood as coming from outside. With the establishment of theocracy in Tibet, it would be difficult to imagine it changing from within, so the legend must have taken root long after its first utterance. From the viewpoint of the people everything seemed stable. But behind the walls and up in the towers of the Potala, the frequent internecine struggles between the ruling elite, of which the history of ecclesiastic Tibet abounds, might surprise you... Tibetan Gelukpa regents and monks, plotting and scheming, are believed to have murdered no less than three Dalai Lamas while the boys were still teenage children. These events are reported in Waddell's detailed account of Buddhism in Tibet... Nevertheless, the Tibetans have long cultivated a deep faith in their God-king. China has actively tried to terrorize the people into giving up their dreams for independence. The poor and illiterate experience a special kind of faith in their collective destiny. It's a wholly unusual comprehension of life which you and I find difficult to imagine. Everything about their lives has been permeated with religious significance. One could even say that Buddhism long encouraged resignation to the feudal destiny. Today, some Tibetans try to accept the Chinese presence and find a new livelihood; others invert their unconditional reverence into a silent, enduring resistance. That may sound like a lot of nonsense, but I don't care.

Most Tibetans believe in their gods and God-king. As tourists, when we go to Tibet, wearing our jaded history of denatured wishes, our wishful nostalgia, our poetic and spiritual failure - many of us visit because we see that the Tibetan people have preserved their faith intact. Witnessing that profound faith, many of us yearn for an experience of deep faith - and yet be quite incapable of it! We don't even have to say it aloud to hear the echo, "What's it like to be that woman over there, prostrate in prayer?" None of us know.

All of us lack a secure and fair-minded critical capacity. Modern times have helped us to acquire habits of ignorant cynicism and self-serving contempt. We belittle and judge everything foreign to our own illusion of right and identity. I suspect that our deep contemplative ability is gone. The appreciation and creation of fine art was long ago replaced by dull material snobbery. In the West, this apparent "decadence" - which is actually only a paucity of sensitivity - parallels the gradual replacement of a Christian-inspired religious ethic with more practical, mean and self-serving kinds of "faith." I have in mind that especially righteous type of "self-conscious morality" - and it's more liable to excuse than deride everyone's inability to imitate Christ in all his humility, wisdom and frailty... We moderns wish for the god in man to be much stronger than we really are. We refuse to admit that we are weak - and we pretend our complaints show how strong we are, ha, ha... Isn't it odd - how we abuse ancient creeds, appropriating them to rationalize the need for everything from owning a handgun to grasping for cash? It will take a long time for us to become good again - and I do not think we ever will - unless some miracle of science gives us back a little bit of our lost smarts...

...I remember, on an early visit to New York City, as I stood on the steps of a disco waiting to get inside, the doorman would not let me in until he voiced his opinion of me... This particularly tough doorman called me a "bullshitter..." I should have known my fate right then and there! I should have seen my destiny laid out before me! The only that fact remained for me to realize was that today's mass-mind does not really want to hear anything about the situation of a culture. We allow ourselves only vague allusions to problems and clutter everything up with euphemisms and a rationale that leads nowhere.

Really, we're forbidden from doing anything about problems. But it's okay to make money. I still want to make love instead of buying a gun, dummies! To quote an old nobody: "...isn't the American language, humor, ideals and prejudices, in by a nose as the most nontranslatable bundle of menace ever?"

Even if the modern critique optimistically proposes that civilization has come full circle, and that we have replaced our literary sensibility with fresher, more accessible myths of visual and aural language, this new image-driven consciousness still feels untrustworthy and insufficient. Everything is either hot or cold, wet or dry - near and far away... What does the texture of our sensations have to do with anything? After all, it's easy to get very jaded with all the critical hair-splitting that makes us seem so sophisticated. You ought to transcend the ugly delusion that you are a deserving and gifted writer... You just look selfishly cramped, living in a protective shell made of sales and ego. You decide to buy a taste of "reality" outside artificial culture. Become a tourist on the way to Tibet, imagining that we can retrieve something we forgot from the childhood of our lost culture and withered love... You can still see Orson Welles whispering after his Rosebud, can't you? Today, all we really believe is that material fantasy, realized, can make us happy. Money is exciting and let's you travel anywhere you like whenever you want to. But each one of us is quite capable of suspecting that money isn't the same thing as happiness. Money and prosperity relieve much pain and strife: it's true, nobody need be poor! But greed is a different thing, and the deprivation of many to enrich only one or two individuals: how can we defend it? Wasn't the crippled delusion of a "sacred right" to hoard property the inspiration that compelled Marx to write Kapital? Stale hypocrisy overlooks exactly how our earnings are generated. I am so sick of all the experts: if all the lazy, outdated socialists had their way - we'd get paid to complain and nobody would have to work... Okay, we're autonomous beings, and naturally selfish. But after realizing that it isn't reasonable to expect the owners of property to share it with you, then you need only answer one last question: who least wants to share their property with others? ...those who already have a lot? ...those who already have some, but want more? ...or those who have none?

We really need to look at our civilization. The advance of material progress - it's all the cars, computers, and the stereos - the tv's and soft chairs sedating the pain and anguish. But we never completely escape the hardships of life: that's our mortal destiny. Scientists and technicians, brilliant novelists, painters and distillers of fine Scotch - and certainly not economists - they have given us the more satisfying answers.

...I mentioned an oral prophecy - sparked by an intuition that permitted an ancient to perceive a crack in the future: a single human being would lead to the collapse of the existing theocratic order in Tibet. Of course, if this prophecy were true, some would say that it has already come to pass: Tibetans can point their fingers at Chairman Mao. He promoted an irreligious society. Dumb social control was all that resulted from his sloganeering. Maybe all the communists really wanted was to make sure that people wouldn't have to starve anymore. Good and bad comes with all revolutions.

But I do not believe that the Tibetans have lost their religion. Many retain a very strong faith, but they simply cannot picture the future as a reality of their own design.

Inevitably, whether they understand each other or not, many Chinese and Tibetans have grown used to living beside each other. In the city, Tibetans and Chinese people are quite capable of talking. They can respect each other. Sometimes you see a joke brought on by the incomprehensible differences between cultural character: one old Chinese soldier wants to know why the Tibetan waiter is so slow to bring his tea. Cultural flux and separate identities are not so simple to defend and explain. The idea that our cultural heritage must be preserved and promoted only comes easily to those who have no trouble getting their fingers into the pie. But to those folk who are completely disenfranchised and jailed for daring to breathe even a few words for their own identity, the idea of a "heritage" becomes a memory. The present is frustrated and the past is a source of painful nostalgia. Life seems lost in the maze of somebody else's wishful fantasy. We comfort ourselves with the notion each civilization has a genuine essence at the beginning of its cultural and religious tradition. Even amid continual imaginative metamorphoses, an eternal value is supposed to be feasible. We still hope to link the past with the present - so we can adhere to a sense of comfort derived from sublime continuity. Things of spirit and identity remain cohesive and need to "make sense" if we are to believe in ourselves.

This instinct for propagating a particular cultural interpretation in the interest of heritage is a good example of civilization's self-preserving security blanket; and it's pretty easy to laugh at this kind of conservatism because we never ever want to understand that such insistence upon changeless social consistency and uniformity also happens to be painfully unimaginative... Is there only one eternal spring? In place of all this inertia of heritage and selfish conservation, can't we promote some instinct for wonder and inspiration? Well, imagination is exactly the thing that most free thinkers in the West imagine ought to take the place of religious piety. (But most of us just want money and we don't care about much else.) Simply enough, faith in God has been quite insufficient to satisfy creative curiosity. Now, we are supposed to cultivate faith in our own minds. Indeed, the abstractions of intellectual progress have given birth to a wholly new emotive and instinctual world. Since we never forget our beginnings, even as we carry all time within us, so we will always know more than we can ever verbalize. Ultimately, we will lose faith in our imagination, too. Oh well, faith may become possible for some of you again... But not for me...