“One must jump off the cliff with hands free.” — Zen Proverb
What does it mean “to jump off with hands free?” Perhaps simply this: to leap into the unknown without holding on because the “hands that hold” prevent us from lifting off.
So what are we holding on to? And why are we so afraid to let go? Perhaps it’s because where we stand now, we’re still alive — if only barely so. Hence, we stick to the usual for fear that things might get worse; we hang onto the customs, the established systems and all the suppressions and oppressions that sustain the status quo. And because of that we fear change despite so desperately wanting something different, something just, something better. The malaise of meaninglessness in many people’s lives is reflected in its mundane repetitiveness: the endless going to work, tending to chores, raising families and all its related duties, with neither the brief reprieve from routine by submerging oneself in entertainment or taking the yearly vacation, nor the dutiful spiritual commitments to our preferred institutions offer any sort of real freedom; none of it stops the fear. And then we go on and pass the same set of rules to our children and call it tradition!
How does this make any sense? Why should we insist on living so calculated, so mechanically, competing and rushing towards something we do only because we’re supposed to? Should it be a surprise that we live with so much conflict within ourselves and with others? (The more than 5000 wars in 10,000 years of recent history seem to suggest we’ve learned little if anything from experience.) Why do we keep doing the same thing yet continue to expect or hope for different results? Is that not the very definition of insanity?
“A liberated being is one who lives a perpetual uncalculated life in the present.” — Hindu Proverb.
Change is life and change is good. But good change requires honest self-examination. A lot of us avoid the arduous task for it takes time and humility, the latter more a challenge than the former. I suspect that we’ve been so deeply conditioned to avoid danger (which is rooted in our biology) and potential failure (which is created through the psychological) that we’re almost too paralyzed to make right and insightful choices — correct action that only comes after the mind has achieved stillness and clarity. Real dangers, such as the fear of prejudice, starvation or physical violence is real, and must be contended with urgency. But our psychological conflicts are our own doing, both individually and as a species. We analyze, calculate and scheme hoping that we can make the most logical choices in life working endlessly to limit risk and maximize reward. We don’t stop to breathe or feel. We obsess with results and neglect process. We don’t allow for flow. As such, our ego — our self-centredness — wins, overwhelming all thought and action. It’s almost ironical that such seeming rationality and cunning rarely amounts to satisfying outcomes.
“Life should be touched, not strangled. You’ve got to relax, let it happen at times, and at other times move forward with it.” — Ray Bradbury, Writer
Why is that so? Maybe it’s because reality is so incredibly complex that it’s impossible to know everything or even just enough to solve anything but the most basic problems. We can amass all the data we want and it’ll always be incomplete. Even the mathematical genius at the end resorts to flipping a coin. No set of belief systems — economic, philosophical, or religious — will ever provide the clear and perfect answer. To live life fully and passionately demands that we take the chance and risk losing, failing and experiencing pain or disappointment. Uncertainty cannot be avoided. Who knows what tomorrow brings? The events unfolding in the current social, economic and political climate give clear evidence that life is unpredictable.
“Carpe Diem” (Seize the Day) — Horace, Roman Poet.
And in making our art, we know that is the case. For art that follows convention — relying on what has been done already (formulas) — is merely repeating what’s dead. Strict conservatism conflicts with creativity because it wants to hang on to the past. It’s no wonder so many of my friends, students and acquaintances continually ask me the same question: how come movies today, both live action or animated, all look and feel the same? My answer: lack of courage.
It seems we’re so scared of failure that from top to bottom we take no chances in producing, directing, writing, acting or animating. The ideas are cliché, the directing unoriginal, the writing formulaic and the acting/animating choices are simultaneously mechanical and underwhelming. Heck, I can’t even think of any soundtracks worth remembering from recent movies. Can you? It’s a sad state of affairs especially given the wealth of knowledge, talent and technology available. But how can we expect otherwise? Society is completely engulfed with the idea of success with outcomes usually measured by the urgency of profit rather than process; “Hurry up and Succeed” seems to be the motto of the 21st Century. This destroys all craft, from the mechanization of techniques, to the forced sentimental endings designed to satisfy the palette after a terrible meal.
Now, making art is hard. Like life, it requires tremendous passion and attention. It also requires solid relationships built on respect. But the moment we give in to fear — whether for safety or acceptance — we stop learning and we stop collaborating. Even worse, once we allow fear to guide us, we no longer care about how we do things. Craft and artistry, as well as the accompanying joy that lives in the process of exploration and performance, give way to efficiency and compliance. Once that compromise is made the job becomes only a job, and work becomes labour. Discipline loses it root alliance with learning and becomes enforced behaviour. Love, passion and empathy disappear, replaced by bitterness and misery. On a larger scale community, ecology and our own dignity as human beings also ends up compromised if not discarded. Getting to the finish line becomes more important than the journey itself. This is the problem with society today and the art we see reflects that because art has always been an accurate mirror of history and the stories we’re telling ourselves.
If we view life as a race — and just to be clear, I do not take such a view— then we should be cognizant of the fact that at the end of the race is death. So what’s the rush? And why fear so much that we abandon our senses, especially our natural sense for peace, joy and connection. And don’t confuse mechanical living for order because our inner chaos can only be solved from the within. We can only focus on presence and live free and bold without taking anyone else’s idea of what bold is. If we abandon our self-centredness, we have the opportunity to be free from fear. Don’t take my word for it, test it out. Your art demands it. So does your being.
“Goodness can only blossom in freedom, not tradition (mechanical living).” — J. Krishnamurti, Philosopher