Contrast
7 Minute Read | An exploration of what I, and many philosophies around the world, recognise as the key to any fulfilling philosophy; the "seed" of Cultivation.
The founding principle to any truly astute and timeless “Way” (philosophy; world-view; practise), has to be what I have come to call “Contrast”.
It is the seed from which potentially all wisdom may sprout, and almost every spirituality and philosophy across the world, for as far back as we have records of thought, have presented some formulation of it.
When properly explored, it provides the necessary roots and anchoring to see why “selfishness” is a hopeless delusion; to recognise how we can never be lost or alone; why it is nonsense to see life as meaningless; how to confidently step beyond being victim to life’s ups and downs; even how to free yourself from the sort of oppressive and short-sighted notions of “good” and “bad” that lead to a life of guilt and repentence (even for those not religious, often without even realising the weight of guilt they carry).
In modern times, as conscious creatures wrestling with the weight of all the endless bits of information and ideas we are fed, we are forever forced into our minds. Life demands that we think, think, think.
But active thought, particularly in the West with our strictly defined and delineating languages, requires ignorance and omission of what seems to be one of reality’s most timeless principles, which is that
“Opposites necessitate one another.”
No thing exists in complete separation from any other. From whatever angle you choose to analyse this from, it stands true.
Scientifically, our models of the universe tells us that every particle originated from the same pinpoint at the big bang, and continue to ride the same cosmic “fields” that hold the universe together; to such an extent, that phenomena like what Einstein termed “spooky action at a distance” occur, wherein two completely distinct particles will perfectly balance one another’s behaviour out even when separated by vast distances.
Rationally, it is impossible for us to conceive of anything in absolute isolation or without some kind of polarity. We can only perceive - visually or intellectually - any single thing, through comparison to its background. We see the tree because its background is not bark-like or leafy, etc.; we know it is a tree because it is not furry like a cat, or small like a shrub, because we have singled out specific “qualities” we label as tree as opposed to the other possibilities.
Intuitively and emotionally, we only recognise our feelings through contrast to their opposites. Cold is the absence of heat, just as pain is undesirable in contrast to pleasure, and joy or love are only recognisable through their absence and amplified in juxtaposition to sorrow or rejection…
Why is awareness of this valuable? Knowledge of this most basic rhythm to our lives, provides us with the capacity for healthy distance to our experiences. When caught in the midst of experience, our conscious mind has a chance to recognise the harmony and reciprocity embedded in each moment; when properly explored and nurtured into the roots of one’s philosophy, it becomes easier to prepare oneself for reality as opposed to simple wishful thinking and desire.
Some examples of the shifts in perspective Contrast invites…
Wholeness, and the Impossibility of Selfishness
The conscious, grasping mind requires that we categorise and apportion existence into discrete pieces, so that it may juxtapose and valuate them. To be “conscious”, to be self-aware (or at least, self-reflective…) requires the act of separating the observer from the thing it observes.
Yet, to quote Alan Watts and the Zenrin Kushu, we are
“Like a sword that cuts but cannot cut itself;
like an eye that sees, but cannot see itself.”
In other words, it is only with the intervention of the “thinking” mind that any separation arises; only through Contrast that things stand apart.
We are a part of this universe— we were borne from it, “within” it, amidst it. So, to place ourselves through self reflection, we must somehow distance ourselves from it.
Hence, we create a dichotomy within our minds: a sense of a self distinct from its surroundings, and a hidden self that is interwoven with them.
But this louder, more active, isolated sense of self, is necessarily blinded to that most grounding and timeless principle. The mind that forever chatters to us in our, well, mind—that mind necessarily sees itself separate from the world, and struggles to comprehend the simultaneity of itself as an individual, and itself as the whole.
Contrast invites us to see through this illusion. It invites us to ask ourselves—
Who is the “real” you - the picture created for self-reflection, the totality that picture is drawn from, or both?
Are you ever truly “alone”, “lost”, or acting “without purpose” when you seem to be a manifestation of something far greater than your little old mind can fathom?
How can anything you ever do, be done only for you? If every action arises out of relation to all others, how can you ever be “selfish”?
Equanimity and Morality
Contrast shows us that to know good, one must know bad; just as to feel pleasure, one must know what it is to not feel pleasure; to love, one must lose; to live, one must be able to die…
This principle blends into everything we ever know. It underpins our every relation with existence, be it the basic act of observing that which we participate within, or of accepting the inevitable cost (counter-balance) to our actions, beliefs, and ideals.
The most powerful implication from an everyday perspective, however, is its invitation to Equanimity: the principle of truly embracing the transience of “good” and “bad” events or feelings, knowing that each brings about the other. This is not indifference or detachment, of rejecting both, but rather grounding onself in the inevitability of both and welcoming them for what they are.
Buddhism, Stoicism, Christianity, Yoga, Hinduism, Islam, Taoism— each of these, and many more, all encourage Equanimity as the foundation of a more peaceful, joy-filled existence. Once again, Alan Watts sums it up beautiful in his telling of the Chinese parable of the farmer:
But there is another profound way that Contrast can impact our lives, and that is through what it tells us about so called “right” and “wrong”—for how can any action be either, if they only bring about the creation of the other? How can we ever hope to confidently categorise aspects of reality as such, knowing that we have simply divided an otherwise complete totality according to our subjective and ever-shifting ethical beliefs?
And lest you argue “right”/“wrong” are timeless, I invite you to take a look at a history book. For every ethical claim, there has existed a society that maintained its opposite, and believed just as passionately as you do in the truth of doing so. Whether it’s right to work yourself to the bone, or make the most of life’s simple and laziest pleasures; whether it’s wrong to murder, or right to permit only the strong and healthy live— whatever the claim, the universe has examples from the natural world, cultural history, and even relativist logic to counteract them.
Could it be possible to find a less binary sense of morality? In my own life, I have settled upon distinguishing not between “right/wrong”, but rather between actions that nurture, and those that decay. Instead of attempting to create idealised labels of my acts or judgements, I try to learn how to promote constructive activity, and minimise that which is destructive.
Both this and Equanimity are topics well worth exploring in detail, but I don’t wish to spoonfeed here. For now, in short, Contrast calls us to question elements of our lives that we might otherwise hold to be self-evident:
If happiness arises out of pain, and pain out of joy, is it wise to clutch at “good” times and escape the “bad”?
If “right” and “wrong” are similarly interwoven and transient, what alternative might we have for guiding our choices or actions?
And, ultimately, if everything is interwoven and only separable through conscious attention, what is the healthiest and most constructive way to apply our minds?
A few things for you to ponder on.
If you wish to join me on this little journey to build a philosophy capable of carrying us through modern times, I would love to hear some of your answers to the questions above. I’d also be very eager to hear your thoughts on Contrast as a whole - do you see any flaws in it? What insights do you glean from it, if any?
Thanks, as always, for your time.
Kingston x