My friend Adam dropped a bomb on me.
"I quit meditating," he said. "It was making me too content."
At first, I thought he was joking. Who quits something because it brings joy?
But Adam, a fellow startup founder, had a point. "Meditation is passive," he explained. "Being a founder means actively shaping the world."
Initially, his words resonated. But on deeper reflection, I realized he might have missed a subtle, yet critical point.
Meditation and mindfulness aren't necessarily leading to passivity. Instead, they're often filling a void – one created by unfulfilled desires – with a new, more elusive goal: the desire for cessation itself. It's a snake eating its own tail.
This is the mindfulness paradox. In seeking to end desire, we create a new, perhaps more insidious one. It's not passivity, but a redirected ambition. We're not becoming inert; we're actively pursuing a state of non-pursuit.
Consider the modern mindfulness movement. It promises peace, clarity, and freedom from suffering. But isn't this promise itself a form of striving? Aren't we replacing our worldly ambitions with spiritual ones?
The drive remains; only the target changes.
In this light, meditation isn't an escape from the rat race – it's just a different track. We're still running, still seeking, still desiring. We've simply swapped material goals for ethereal ones.
Let's dig deeper. Mindfulness's predecessor, Buddhism, paints life as inherently painful. Impermanence, dissatisfaction, and suffering are woven into the fabric of existence. These are harsh truths. Yet Buddhism doesn't stop there. It dangles a carrot: there's a way out. This "way out" is spiritual awakening, a state free from craving and ignorance.
But why seek this awakening? Often, it's born from disillusionment. It's a "giving up on the world." Nietzsche called it the "will to nothingness." He saw it as life-denial masquerading as enlightenment.
Buddhism exposes life's difficulties with brutal honesty. Then, in the same breath, it offers an escape hatch. It's as if the harsh reality is merely a setup to sell the solution. This approach raises eyebrows. Is Buddhism truly life-affirming, or is it subtly life-negating?
Meditation is touted as a panacea for mental health issues. It can help, sure. But it's not without risks - just like psychedelics, meditation often amplifies ego instead of diminishing it.
Traditional Taoism emphasized morality as the foundation of practice. Today's secularized mindfulness often skips this step. We're unleashing advanced yogic techniques on a society vastly different from their origin. It's like giving a formula one car to someone who just got their learner's permit.
The real world, with all its joys and sorrows, is fundamentally "bad" in Buddhist thought. Life itself becomes a problem to be solved. This perspective deserves scrutiny. Do we need to negate life to improve it?
Embrace useful insights, but maintain critical thinking. Meditate if it helps, but don't expect miracles. And above all, be wary of any philosophy that promises to solve life itself.