The Interconnected Nature of Reality
In this installment of Zen and the Art of Dissatisfaction, I explore how ancient philosophical and religious traditions illuminate the complex interplay between human perception, duality, and the experience of oneness. Drawing on insights from David Loy’s work Nonduality, Stephen Mitchell’s translations, and my own ethnographic research on the San people of the Kalahari, I will investigate the ways in which ordinary and spiritual realities intertwine and how cultural and economic structures shape our sense of dissatisfaction.
Photo by Mikko Ijäs
Philosopher David Loy observes in his book Nonduality (1988) how, in the Daodejing by the Chinese philosopher Laozi, composed approximately 2,500 years ago, the odd-numbered lines – such as 1, 3, 5, and 7 – describe an interconnected nonduality, an indefinable essence known as the Tao. This Tao is said to be the source of heaven and the world, a reality understood as spiritual unity. Experiences that reveal this Taoist nonduality emerge only when a person has no deliberate striving to attain it.
In contrast, the even-numbered lines – 2, 4, 6, and 8 – point to another perspective of the experience of this world, in which we perceive everything as a collection of separate, independent entities that nonetheless interact with one another. These two perspectives and experiences of reality form a web of interactions, ultimately constituting a single, unified whole. Loy argues that this view of the world, also referred to in Buddhism as samsara, is a dualistic world in which the experiencer and the external world are distinguished from each other. A dualistic world is characterised by distinctions and definitions between objects and concepts. It tends to categorise things into opposites – good and bad, right and wrong, evil and just, large and small, black and white, rich and poor, and so on. This perspective enables classifications, lists, and categories.
Language, Metaphor, and the Limits of Duality
Linguist and translator Stephen Mitchell notes (1991) agrees we instinctively interpret language through a dualistic lens. We take metaphors literally because language is itself a dualistic method. Linguistic systems rely on distinctions and categories, which makes it challenging to describe phenomena beyond their reach. Over time, the metaphors of original religious experience may vanish in literary traditions.
For this reason, some religious traditions emphasise the practitioner’s own trust in their personal experience over written knowledge. In such practices, experiential knowledge is transmitted from teacher to student. In esoteric religions, teachings are intended only for the initiated; nothing is revealed to outsiders, to prevent misinterpretation of metaphors.
In Zen Buddhism, the student must personally perceive the true nature of life. Even the teacher cannot grant it. The teacher can only gently guide the student toward their personal insight.
Insight and the Path of Practice
Such insight is not something that can be understood in a conventional sense. There is no book to read that mystically unlocks the gates of the mind so that we understand the astonishing world in which we live. Cognitively, we may grasp the concept, but experiencing it through personal insight is entirely different. This requires humility, dedication, faith, and effort.
The process requires that the individual examines their own understanding of self and the nature of reality. Upon the first glimpse of insight, the practitioner questions everything: mountains are no longer mountains, and waters are no longer waters. As the practice continues, the practitioner gradually realises the true nature of reality and appreciates that it has been present all along; it was simply unseen. Eventually, mountains are once again mountains, and waters are waters. This experience is often described as awakening, or even enlightenment.
This insight does not occur as a sudden, dramatic event where the practitioner is transported to another dimension. Spiritual practices aim for slow, often years- or decades-long cultivation, during which the practitioner gradually comes to a new understanding of reality, often imperceptibly. Occasionally, sudden flashes of insight occur that are difficult to articulate. Each tradition has its own means of framing these experiences so that they can be understood within a coherent context.
For instance, in Zen practice, a student may have sudden, surprising experiences, feeling as though the entire world is shifting or collapsing. The student may exclaim, “Here it is. I understand!” The teacher then reminds them: “It is wonderful that you had this experience, but this is not the end. Experiences come and go. We continue to practise understanding this reality.”
Mitchell also observes that similar insights are accessible in the original texts of Christianity. Even the Christian notion of the Kingdom of Heaven can be understood as a subtle state of being, living with ordinary joys and sorrows. After such realisation, life becomes simple and effortless, like the flight of birds across the sky or lilies growing eternally in the field – ever-present in the present moment.
Social Context, Dissatisfaction, and Economic Change
My doctoral research on the shamanistic cultures of the Kalahari led me to think that human dissatisfaction may arise from distorted perspectives. Axial age transformations between 800 BCE and 600 CE brought not only new religions but also profound economic changes. Previously, people relied on mutual aid and trust in everyday life. The introduction of money disrupted this trust. Slavery, armies, and money altered everything.
This transformation continues to affect us. Money, though in principle democratic and available to anyone, requires individuals to make extreme sacrifices of personal freedom to acquire it. Money disconnects people from social networks of trust – both in relation to others and in relation to their environment – because all resources are reduced to commodities defined by monetary value.
The San people of the Kalahari still live in an economy where everything is shared, and reliability holds meaningful social significance. Social cohesion is paramount in such societies. The trance dance practiced by the San is one method of reinforcing social cohesion. This religious practice aims to engage with the spiritual world so that spirits or ancestors can assist the community in times of hardship, such as illness. The trance dance exemplifies a form of spiritual practice intended to blur the distinctions and limitations of a dualistic world.
I do not claim that humanity has ever lived in a society where individuals constantly felt at one with the universe. Yet I believe that our contemporary market-driven worldview contains elements that disrupt this sense of unity and connection. This worldview – shaped by armies, oppression, and money, originating roughly 2,500 years ago – may prevent us from fully experiencing the beauty and interconnectedness of life. Perhaps it is the root of fundamental dissatisfaction.
Conclusion
The interplay between Taoist, Zen, and Christian insights, along with observations of human societies such as the Kalahari San, illustrates that the perception of duality is deeply ingrained in language, culture, and social structures. Spiritual practices cultivate a gradual awakening to the reality of interconnectedness, which cognitive understanding alone cannot achieve. Human dissatisfaction, whether induced by economic, social, or cultural frameworks, may ultimately reflect a misalignment between our conditioned perceptions and the underlying unity of existence. By exploring these perspectives, we gain a richer understanding of both the limitations of our worldview and the transformative potential of personal insight.
References
Loy, D. (1988). Nonduality: In Buddhism and Beyond. Wisdom Publications.
Mitchell, S. (1991). Tao Te Ching: A new English version. HarperCollins.
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