The New York Sophist

It’s one thing to go around spouting off Buddhist quotes because they sound good, or because they are apt to the situation/audience (like a good Sophist does, so I try to do). It’s another thing when you encounter a moment that really hits you, where you are so squarely and so completely struck that the only thing that can be thought is that everything, all of it, all the things you’ve been reading and thinking about for years, all those things that swim around in your head, are all true. I have never been persuaded like this before, but this happened to me in Philadelphia this past weekend.

What I thought was, or what thought me, or what struck me was this – everything is connected. This very simple propositional idea from Buddhism that is at the core of any koan, any Dharma talk, any quote, or any stura that you may come across.

A large part of my recent troubles has been brought about by my own anxiety driven desire to have a compartmentalized existence. This is clearly not only impossible, but so incredibly imaginary there is no way to make it plausible even inside the fantasy. It is a fantasy of fantasy.

The reality is that my problems are all mine, and mine alone and I get to be with them forever if I want to be. The reality is also that it’s incredibly easy to blame other things for my issues. But the best reality out of all of these is that when I go a bit too far, or blame too much on external factors, the universe nicely snaps back with clean and clear reminders that I have ordered things this way.

What is actually going on though? Everything. The elements I would rather not have in my life are providing me excellent people, conversations, experiences, thoughts, and being. The things I would like to fill my life with are providing me with sadness, misery, want, lack and frustration. Of course both of these sentences can be easily flipped back and forth. So there really is no way out. Which is fine. Because “no way out” – the recognition of it, is the way out. Until you think of it that way, then the door is shut. No escape.

I know this is a bit extreme, but it was an extreme weekend. I had a great time. I was reminded of a lot. I forgot a lot. I thought a lot. I tried to speak French in front of Independence Hall. I drank a bit too much. And I was very happy to be there. Not just there at my friends’ wedding but very happy to be there.

Tomorrow it’s time to teach debate again, and I wonder what other connections will appear/be revealed.  There are a lot of vehicles toward realization, and teaching debate seems to be the one I am in right now.

It’s one thing to go around spouting off Buddhist quotes because they sound good, or because they are apt to the situation/audience (like a good Sophist does, so I try to do). It’s another thing when you encounter a moment that really hits you, where you are so squarely and so completely struck that the only thing that can be thought is that everything, all of it, all the things you’ve been reading and thinking about for years, all those things that swim around in your head, are all true. I have never been persuaded like this before, but this happened to me in Philadelphia this past weekend.

What I thought was, or what thought me, or what struck me was this – everything is connected. This very simple propositional idea from Buddhism that is at the core of any koan, any Dharma talk, any quote, or any stura that you may come across.

A large part of my recent troubles has been brought about by my own anxiety driven desire to have a compartmentalized existence. This is clearly not only impossible, but so incredibly imaginary there is no way to make it plausible even inside the fantasy. It is a fantasy of fantasy.

The reality is that my problems are all mine, and mine alone and I get to be with them forever if I want to be. The reality is also that it’s incredibly easy to blame other things for my issues. But the best reality out of all of these is that when I go a bit too far, or blame too much on external factors, the universe nicely snaps back with clean and clear reminders that I have ordered things this way.

What is actually going on though? Everything. The elements I would rather not have in my life are providing me excellent people, conversations, experiences, thoughts, and being. The things I would like to fill my life with are providing me with sadness, misery, want, lack and frustration. Of course both of these sentences can be easily flipped back and forth. So there really is no way out. Which is fine. Because “no way out” – the recognition of it, is the way out. Until you think of it that way, then the door is shut. No escape.

I know this is a bit extreme, but it was an extreme weekend. I had a great time. I was reminded of a lot. I forgot a lot. I thought a lot. I tried to speak French in front of Independence Hall. I drank a bit too much. And I was very happy to be there. Not just there at my friends’ wedding but very happy to be there.

Tomorrow it’s time to teach debate again, and I wonder what other connections will appear/be revealed.  There are a lot of vehicles toward realization, and teaching debate seems to be the one I am in right now.

We are talking about strategy, for the most part. How to approach difficult situations and how to act in the best sense, given a dicey situation. The University is full of such moments and such issues. And normally, I love thinking about strategy.

For most of my life one book has governed my approach to it. That book is Book of Five Rings by Miyamoto Musashi. And if you have spoken to me for around ninety seconds, you know this book is very central to my way of thinking.

Musashi identifies strategy as central to the art of being a samurai. However, this is not his major point. He defines strategy as being “all things with no teacher.” Suddenly, strategy seems to be the ideal of the University. Well, the ideal of a University that used to be, and an ideal they never quite live up to. We might be too specialized for this to really be a thing we do anymore, but I like to hold out hope and be naive. You’ll get that if you talk to me for thirty seconds.

This fantastic conversation reminded me why I dig what I do. But also, through the course of it, I kept thinking about a book that is marginally related, but quite a split away from Musashi’s book: Shantideva‘s The Way of the Bodhisattva.  This book is about how to develop an enlightened sense of relation to others – and basically suggests that you connect to both your impermanence and the impermanence of others while at the same time recognizing the limitless potential of each moment of existence. Basically, realize that you are the Universe, and that you are inevitably going to end one day. How could you hold a grudge, or begrudge others if you realize that?  


I kept thinking about that book and about the approaches in that book for developing Bodhisattva consciousness – basically a kind heart. Musashi isn’t really into that, surprisingly enough. He is much more into being fluid and flexible and rolling with the moment so you can beat others in combat.  But he’s also suggesting the use of this idea for the creation of paintings, poetry, art and other works.

It was my colleague who then brought up Levinas as a response to a discussion about Camus and his question of why not suicide. Levinas, someone who I should pay more attention to, sort of showed me through her comments that these books are not as unrelated as I made them out to be in my mind.

Strategy: Have I had the wrong book this whole time? Probably not. I have had both books on my shelf for many years. After this night though, I have them much closer to one another.

To be strategic just might include struggling to understand why you consider yourself so distinct from the Universe. To deploy strategy might be to take actions that lead to better understanding of yourself no matter what happens.

This might make it impossible to lose a debate. But that is for another post.

“My enemies shall cease to be. My friends
and I myself shall one day cease to be. And
all is likewise destined for destruction.”

This quote from Shantideva is one of my favorites. If all things are related in their fundamental and inevitable end, why hold so tightly to them?

Perhaps the practice of debate helps to address this question. But remember: I am hopeful and naive. A better answer would be – Perhaps debate helps us ask this question in a better way.

Debate as a practice of realizing your fragility, your impossible existence and your inevitable demise. Debate as a struggle with the self as subject. This is a model of debate practice I can get behind.

Is it contradictory to Musashi’s teachings?

At first thought, no, not that much. Upon deeper reflection, not at all. But Musashi’s spirituality/theology is less developed than Shantideva’s – writing a long time before Musashi, and from within a religion that had not gone through the temporal, political, and cultural filters that allowed it to diffuse into Musashi’s flavor of Buddhism – Zen.

A defense of debating from non individualistic, fatalistic premises. Now that could never be a bad book from which to start teaching advocacy.

We are talking about strategy, for the most part. How to approach difficult situations and how to act in the best sense, given a dicey situation. The University is full of such moments and such issues. And normally, I love thinking about strategy.

For most of my life one book has governed my approach to it. That book is Book of Five Rings by Miyamoto Musashi. And if you have spoken to me for around ninety seconds, you know this book is very central to my way of thinking.

Musashi identifies strategy as central to the art of being a samurai. However, this is not his major point. He defines strategy as being “all things with no teacher.” Suddenly, strategy seems to be the ideal of the University. Well, the ideal of a University that used to be, and an ideal they never quite live up to. We might be too specialized for this to really be a thing we do anymore, but I like to hold out hope and be naive. You’ll get that if you talk to me for thirty seconds.

This fantastic conversation reminded me why I dig what I do. But also, through the course of it, I kept thinking about a book that is marginally related, but quite a split away from Musashi’s book: Shantideva‘s The Way of the Bodhisattva.  This book is about how to develop an enlightened sense of relation to others – and basically suggests that you connect to both your impermanence and the impermanence of others while at the same time recognizing the limitless potential of each moment of existence. Basically, realize that you are the Universe, and that you are inevitably going to end one day. How could you hold a grudge, or begrudge others if you realize that?  


I kept thinking about that book and about the approaches in that book for developing Bodhisattva consciousness – basically a kind heart. Musashi isn’t really into that, surprisingly enough. He is much more into being fluid and flexible and rolling with the moment so you can beat others in combat.  But he’s also suggesting the use of this idea for the creation of paintings, poetry, art and other works.

It was my colleague who then brought up Levinas as a response to a discussion about Camus and his question of why not suicide. Levinas, someone who I should pay more attention to, sort of showed me through her comments that these books are not as unrelated as I made them out to be in my mind.

Strategy: Have I had the wrong book this whole time? Probably not. I have had both books on my shelf for many years. After this night though, I have them much closer to one another.

To be strategic just might include struggling to understand why you consider yourself so distinct from the Universe. To deploy strategy might be to take actions that lead to better understanding of yourself no matter what happens.

This might make it impossible to lose a debate. But that is for another post.

“My enemies shall cease to be. My friends
and I myself shall one day cease to be. And
all is likewise destined for destruction.”

This quote from Shantideva is one of my favorites. If all things are related in their fundamental and inevitable end, why hold so tightly to them?

Perhaps the practice of debate helps to address this question. But remember: I am hopeful and naive. A better answer would be – Perhaps debate helps us ask this question in a better way.

Debate as a practice of realizing your fragility, your impossible existence and your inevitable demise. Debate as a struggle with the self as subject. This is a model of debate practice I can get behind.

Is it contradictory to Musashi’s teachings?

At first thought, no, not that much. Upon deeper reflection, not at all. But Musashi’s spirituality/theology is less developed than Shantideva’s – writing a long time before Musashi, and from within a religion that had not gone through the temporal, political, and cultural filters that allowed it to diffuse into Musashi’s flavor of Buddhism – Zen.

A defense of debating from non individualistic, fatalistic premises. Now that could never be a bad book from which to start teaching advocacy.

Anyway, here is a great quote about teaching that I recently found about kensho the Japanese word for the Buddhist concept of “enlightenment” or “getting it” or “realization.” I think the term applies to debate teaching just as well in this quote.

“Don’t misdirect your efforts. Don’t chase around looking for something apart from your own selves. All you have to do is to concentrate on being thoughtless, on doing nothing whatever. No practice. No realization. Doing nothing, the state of no-mind, is the direct path of sudden realization. No practice, no realization – that is the true principle, things as they really are. The enlightened ones themselves, those who possess every attribute of Buddhahood, have called this supreme, unparalleled, right awakening.”

People hear this teaching and try to follow it. Choking off their aspirations. Sweeping their minds clean of delusive thoughts. They dedicate themselves solely to doing nothing and to making their minds complete blanks, blissfully unaware that they are doing and thinking a great deal.

When a person who has not had kensho reads the Buddhist scriptures, questions his teachers and fellow monks about Buddhism, or practices religious disciplines, he is merely creating the causes of his own illusion – a sure sign that he is still confined within samsara. He tries constantly to keep himself detached in thought and deed, and all the while his thoughts and deeds are attached. He endeavors to be doing nothing all day long, and all the while he is busily doing.

But if this same person experiences kensho, everything changes. Although he is constantly thinking and acting, it is totally free and unattached. Although he is engaged in activity around the clock, that activity is, as such, non-activity. This great change is the result of his kensho. It is like water that snakes and cows drink from the same cistern, which becomes deadly venom in one and milk in the other. 

~Hakuin Ekaku, c. 1700

What does this mean? I think it has a great application to what we think we are doing in debate and what we actually do in debate (just like that meme everyone is annoyed by right now).

If you think you are studying how to do civic engagement, how to persuade mass audiences, how to create motives in other human beings by studying debate with the idea of winning tournaments as the goal, you only have part of the story. You might also be creating an impassible barrier to this goal.

If you study debate without these things in mind, but you realize the samsara nature of the tournament cycle, you will be like the cow.