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If there was one Eastern concept that I wish made the Western rounds more, it is “the watcher”. In traditions of the watcher, our transformative efforts are not made towards adjusting any particular emotional reaction, but developing a capacity to be present to the reaction and let it manifest without interference. The I is simply an accumulator of self-knowledge. Sufi, Gnostic, and Gurdjieffian traditions all self-watching and self-remembering a central feature. The goal is not the self-calming of much Ameribuddhism, but the building of a broader picture of the “human machine” which puts all emotional reactions in a perspective. In not getting identified with our manifestations, but not manipulating them either, a larger and more magnanimous concept of self emerges, even while we act basically the same externally.

I think a similar reason is at work in the great Italian operas. What is the power of these tragedies? Why is it so meaningful for us when heriones die in the desert or throwing themselves off of a bridge? Because there is a certain victory in feeling these tragic emotions with total clarity. I feel like the main message of Italian tragedy is: life throws us unfairness and sadness, but in grasping it fully, in pouring out heart out for it, we are there for it, we live it rather than run from it. And somehow, that issue is at least as important as what emotional situations come our way: whatever they are, we live them as clearly and fully as possible.

If there was one Eastern concept that I wish made the Western rounds more, it is “the watcher”. In traditions of the watcher, our transformative efforts are not made towards adjusting any particular emotional reaction, but developing a capacity to be present to the reaction and let it manifest without interference. The I is simply an accumulator of self-knowledge. Sufi, Gnostic, and Gurdjieffian traditions all self-watching and self-remembering a central feature. The goal is not the self-calming of much Ameribuddhism, but the building of a broader picture of the “human machine” which puts all emotional reactions in a perspective. In not getting identified with our manifestations, but not manipulating them either, a larger and more magnanimous concept of self emerges, even while we act basically the same externally.

I think a similar reason is at work in the great Italian operas. What is the power of these tragedies? Why is it so meaningful for us when heriones die in the desert or throwing themselves off of a bridge? Because there is a certain victory in feeling these tragic emotions with total clarity. I feel like the main message of Italian tragedy is: life throws us unfairness and sadness, but in grasping it fully, in pouring out heart out for it, we are there for it, we live it rather than run from it. And somehow, that issue is at least as important as what emotional situations come our way: whatever they are, we live them as clearly and fully as possible.