Meme # 6 - Processes, Not Things

In Entangled Life, Merlin Sheldrake makes the hopeful distinction that, 

A mycelial network is a map of a fungus’s recent history and is a helpful reminder that all life-forms are in fact processes not things. The “you” of five years ago was made from different stuff than the “you” of today. Nature is an event that never stops. As William Bateson, who coined the word genetics, observed, “We commonly think of animals and plants as matter, but they are really systems through which matter is continually passing.” When we see an organism, from a fungus to a pine tree, we catch a single moment in its continual development. (p.53) 

I call this distinction “hopeful” because many of us look at ourselves as we are today and are not too happy with what we see. We forget that this moment is just a snapshot - a mile marker along the way. We’re a constellation of matter and consciousness that’s taken a long time to gel and that continues to reconfigure and flow toward a distant destination. Yes, our future often depends on our past, but when we see ourselves as processes rather than static things, we realize that it’s not completely determined by it. Matter is immutable, but a process is not. The sad practice of plastic surgery aside, my body is what it is, and I must remember that it is just a vehicle for my life to pass through. It is not “me.” According to the Way of Fungi, I am a system of thoughts, speech, and actions that are amenable to adaption and change. For instance, I can choose to speak up and I can choose to be quiet. I may have a habit of always putting in my two cents or always clamming up, but that can change - maybe not easily, but certainly more easily than growing several inches to become six feet tall. 

To live a fungi lifestyle we should be attuned to the flow of our lives and not awkward postures frozen in moments of time. It’s a change in focus that changes everything. From the perspective of flow, a face is beautiful - no matter its form - when the thoughts behind the eyes are pleasing. A body is lithe - no matter its form - when its movements are elegant. A person is dignified - no matter their form - when speech is supportive rather than hurtful. These are all things well within our control because each is an example of consciously directing matter to express our true selves. Flow also implies that past, present, and future are distinctions that, while useful, are artificial and can create a rigid frame of mind that does not accurately represent the actual situation. So, we should not say, “He is an unkind man.” Rather, we might remark, “He is acting unkindly.” It’s a slight difference that describes the person through his actions instead of setting his character in stone. What are we except what we think, say, and do? 

A couple of examples to illustrate this point:

First, the great Sufi poet, Rumi, sought out God in all the manifestations of creation and wrote some of the most powerful spiritual poetry the world has known. A single line from one of his poems seems (to me) to encapsulate everything he learned during his quest. He composed, “When you look for God, God is in the look of your eyes.” The act of searching for God is God. God is not found in matter, but rather, in the process of looking for God in matter. 

Second, a Hasidic story relates that a Rebbe once had his small grandchild on his lap and playfully asked the boy, “Where is Zaidy (grandfather)?” He pointed to his beard. “Is Zaidy here?” “No,” said the boy. He pointed to his arm. “Is Zaidy here?” “No,” replied the boy. “Zaidy's not there.” He pointed at his leg. “Is Zaidy here?” “No,” the boy answered again. After a little while the boy tired of the game and got up to leave, but just before he reached the door he screamed, “Zaidy!” in a voice of great distress. The old Rebbe looked up in alarm. The boy pointed triumphantly at his grandfather. “There's Zaidy!” he declared and walked out of the room. 

Focusing on flow allows for change. We’re living processes, not stony fossils. Our manner evolves as we mature - if we mature. If we think, speak, and act like we did in middle school then something got stuck along the way. Perhaps we learned to identify too strongly with certain personae (masks) that we presented to the world and got trapped in behaviors that became habitual. The Way of Fungi challenges us to take a deep breath and step back a couple of paces so we can see the bigger picture: we are processes that continually adapt and grow, not things defined by the matter and habits of a lifetime.