You were born with potential. You were born with goodness and trust. You were born with ideals and dreams. You were born with greatness. You were born with wings. You are not meant for crawling, so don’t. You have wings. Learn to use them and fly.~
La nueva traducción ya está disponible en formato tradicional, tanto en tapa blanda y dura, y por primera vez como eBook. Pronto también estará disponible el audiolibro. Como siempre, puedes leerlo en nuestro sitio, gratis. https://idriesshahfoundation.org/…/the-way-of-the-sufi/
Los Sufis afirman que existe una forma de conocimiento que puede ser alcanzado por el ser humano: un conocimiento de tal naturaleza, que es a la erudición escolástica lo que la adultez es a la infancia. Por ejemplo, El-Ghazali compara: “Un niño no tiene conocimiento real de los logros de un adulto. Un adulto común no puede comprender los logros de un hombre instruido. De la misma manera el hombre instruido no puede comprender las experiencias de los santos iluminados o Sufis”. Este, para empezar, no es un concepto que podría recomendarse a sí mismo a un erudito: esto no es un problema nuevo. En el siglo XI, Muhammad el-Ghazali (Algazel), quien salvó a los teólogos musulmanes al interpretar el material islámico de tal manera que venció el ataque de la filosofía griega, informó a los escolásticos que su modalidad de conocimiento era inferior a aquel adquirido por medio de la práctica Sufi. Lo transformaron en su héroe, y sus sucesores aún enseñan sus interpretaciones como Islam ortodoxo, a pesar de haber afirmado que el método académico era insuficiente e inferior al conocimiento real.Luego vino Rumi, el gran místico y poeta, quien le decía a su público que, como buen anfitrión, les brindaba poesía porque se la solicitaban: proveía lo que era pedido. Pero, continuaba, la poesía es una tontería al ser comparada con cierto desarrollo superior del individuo. Casi siete siglos más tarde aún podía aguijonear a la gente con este tipo de comentario. No hace mucho tiempo, un crítico que trabajaba para un famoso diario británico se ofendió tanto por este pasaje (que encontró en una traducción), que en efecto dijo: “Rumi podrá pensar que la poesía es una tontería. Yo creo que su poesía lo es en esta traducción”.Pero las ideas Sufis, al ser expresadas de esta manera, nunca están destinadas a desafiar al hombre, sino a proporcionarle apenas una mira más elevada, a mantener su concepción de que quizá pueda existir cierta función de la mente que produjo, por ejemplo, a los gigantes del Sufismo. Es inevitable que los contenciosos colisionen con esta idea. Es debido a la prevalencia de esta reacción que los Sufis dicen que la gente de hecho no quiere el conocimiento que el Sufismo afirma ser capaz de impartir: realmente buscan solo sus propias satisfacciones dentro de su propio sistema de pensamiento. Pero el Sufi insiste: “Un instante en presencia de los Amigos (los Sufis) es mejor que cien años de dedicación sincera y obediente” (Rumi).
El camino del Sufi
La nueva traducción ya está disponible en formato tradicional, tanto en tapa blanda y dura, y por primera vez como eBook.
Everybody wants to be happy, right? Who doesn’t? Sure, you may not want to sacrifice everything for pleasure, but you certainly want to enjoy yourself. There are a slew of drugs on the market for solving the problems of depression, and the methods for achieving happiness are often sold and advertised as something you can get, and that which you desire above all else.
The pursuit of happiness is so integral to our idea of the good life that it was declared to be an inalienable right by Thomas Jefferson. It summarizes the American Dream like no other idea. For many people it is the meaning of life itself. It is difficult for some to fathom that there is a way of thinking that suggests you don’t want to at least try to be as happy as you can be.
Well, there is one philosopher who doesn’t think you want happiness in itself. Friedrich Nietzsche.
Nietzsche saw the mere pursuit of happiness, defined here as that which gives pleasure, as a dull waste of human life. Declaring: “Mankind does not strive for happiness; only the Englishman does”, referencing the English philosophy of Utilitarianism, and its focus on total happiness. A philosophy which he rejected with his parable of the “Last Man,” a pathetic being who lives in a time where mankind has “invented happiness”.
The Last Men? In Nietzsche’s mind they were happy, but dull.
Nietzsche was instead dedicated to the idea of finding meaning in life. He suggested the Ubermensch, and his creation of meaning in life, as an alternative to the Last Man, and offered us the idea of people who were willing to undertake great suffering in the name of a goal they have set, as examples. Can we imagine that Michelangelo found painting the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel pleasant? Nikola Tesla declared that his celibacy was necessary to his work, but complained of his loneliness his entire life.
Is that happiness? If these great minds wanted happiness in itself, would they have done what they did?
No, says Nietzsche. They would not. Instead, they chose to pursue meaning, and found it. This is what people really want.
Psychology often agrees. Psychologist Victor Frankl suggested that the key to good living is to find meaning, going so far as to suggest positive meanings for the suffering of his patients to help them carry on. His ideas, published in the best-selling work Man’s Search for Meaning, were inspired by his time at a concentration camp and his notes on how people suffering unimaginable horrors were able to carry on through meaning, rather than happiness.
There is also a question of Utilitarian math here for Nietzsche. In his mind, those who do great things suffer greatly. Those who do small things suffer trivially. In this case, if one was to try to do Utilitarian calculations it would be difficult, if not impossible, to find a scenario when the net happiness is very large. This is why the Last Man is so dull; the only things that grant him a large net payoff in happiness are rather dull affairs, not the suffering-inducing activities that we would find interesting.
This problem is called “the paradox of happiness.” Activities which are done to directly increase pleasure are unlikely to have a high payoff. Nietzsche grasped this problem and gave it voice when he said that “Joy accompanies, joy does not move.” A person who enjoys collecting stamps does not do it because it makes them happy, but because they find it interesting. The happiness is a side effect. A person who suffers for years making a masterpiece is not made happy by it, but rather finds joy in the beauty they create after the fact.
Of course, there is opposition to Nietzsche’s idea. The great English thinker Bertrand Russell condemned Nietzsche in his masterpiece A History of Western Philosophy. Chief among his criticisms of Nietzsche was what he saw as a brutality and openness to suffering, and he compared Nietzschean ideas against those of the compassionate Buddha, envisioning Nietzsche shouting:
Why go about sniveling because trivial people suffer? Or, for that matter, because great men suffer? Trivial people suffer trivially, great men suffer greatly, and great sufferings are not to be regretted, because they are noble. Your ideal is a purely negative one, absence of suffering, which can be completely secured by non-existence. I, on the other hand, have positive ideals: I admire Alcibiades, and the Emperor Frederick II, and Napoleon. For the sake of such men, any misery is worthwhile.
Against this Russell contrasts the ideas of the Buddha, and suggests an impartial observer would always side with him. Russell, whose interpretations of Nietzsche were less than accurate and who suffered from having poor translations to work with, saw his philosophy as the stepping stone to fascism, and as being focused on pain.
So, while you may value something above happiness, how much are you willing to suffer to get it? Nietzsche argues that you will give it all up for a higher value. Others still disagree. Are you even able to pursue happiness and receive it? Or is Nietzsche correct that you must focus elsewhere, on meaning, in order to even hope for satisfaction later?
In fascinating new research, cosmologists explain the history of the universe as one of self-teaching, autodidactic algorithms.
The scientists, including physicists from Brown University and the Flatiron Institute, say the universe has probed all the possible physical laws before landing on the ones we observe around us today. Could this wild idea help inform scientific research to come?
In their novella-length paper, published to the pre-print server arXiV, the researchers—who received “computational, logistical, and other general support” from Microsoft—offer ideas “at the intersection of theoretical physics, computer science, and philosophy of science with a discussion from all three perspectives,” they write, teasing the bigness and multidisciplinary nature of the research.
Here’s how it works: Our universe observes a whole bunch of laws of physics, but the researchers say other possible laws of physics seem equally likely, given the way mathematics works in the universe. So if a group of candidate laws were equally likely, then how did we end up with the laws we really have?
The scientists explain:
“The notion of ‘learning’ as we use it is more than moment-to-moment, brute adaptation. It is a cumulative process that can be thought of as theorizing, modeling, and predicting. For instance, the DNA/RNA/protein system on Earth must have arisen from an adaptive process, and yet it foresees a space of organisms much larger than could be called upon in any given moment of adaptation.”
We can analogize to the research of Charles Darwin, who studied all the different ways animals specialized in order to thrive in different environments. For example, why do we have one monolithic body of laws of physics, rather than, say, a bunch of specialized kinds of finches? This is an old question that dates back to at least 1893, when a philosopher first posited “natural selection,” but for the laws of the universe.
In the paper, the scientists define a slew of terms including how they’re defining “learning” in the context of the universe around us. The universe is made of systems that each have processes to fulfill every day, they say.
Each system is surrounded by an environment made of different other systems. Imagine standing in a crowd of people (remember that?), where your immediate environment is just made of other people. Each of their environments is made of, well, you and other stuff.
Evolution is already a kind of learning, so when we suggest the universe has used natural selection as part of the realization of physics, we’re invoking that specific kind of learning. (Does something have to have consciousness in order to learn? You need to carefully define learning in order to make that the case. Organisms and systems constantly show learning outcomes, like more success or a higher rate of reproduction.)
The researchers explain this distinction well:
“In one sense, learning is nothing special; it is a causal process, conveyed by physical interactions. And yet we need to consider learning as special to explain events that transpire because of learning.”
Consider the expression “You never learn,” which suggests that outcomes for a specific person and activity are still bad. We’re using that outcome to say learning hasn’t happened. What if the person is trying to change their outcomes and just isn’t succeeding? We’re gauging learning based on visible outcomes only.
If you’re interested in the nitty gritty, the full, 79-page study defines a ton of fascinating terms and introduces some wild and wonderful arguments using them. The scientists’ goal is to kick off a whole new arm of cosmological research into the idea of a learning universe.