Lost and Found

Over the years, I've watched very little TV. Occasionally I'll rent the DVD collection of some series, and watch that -- such as the original Kung Fu show (the one that played from 1972-75, with David Carradine, along with Keye Luke as the blind guy with the walking stick who famously called him 'Grasshopper'). When I do watch a DVD TV series, it's usually something historical (such as The Tudors, or Rome). Recently however someone recommended the series Lost to me (which ran from 2004-10). I'd of course heard the buzz about this series over the years, but never saw one episode. I was in an electronics store the other day and decided to pick up the first year episodes. Over the past few days I've watched several of them.

It's a well produced show, and I can understand its popularity. For any not knowing the central premise, it's about a group of people who have survived a plane crash, and are marooned on a south Pacific island. It's all somewhat reminiscent of William Golding's classic novel Lord of the Flies, about a group of boys stranded on an island (also via plane crash), who subsequently break into factions.

The thing that strikes me most about Lost, however, is how the clever storylines involving almost endless relationship-combinations (after all, they do have some 48 characters -- at least in the first season -- to work with), serve to highlight some matters about the very nature of relationship, and in particular, ego-identity. The main feature of conventional ego-identity is the tendency to believe that our personality is somehow absolutely real, and more, somehow immortal. This is why death is always such a strange matter to gaze directly into. Death seem to imply the end of the personality, the end of the story, and at some basic level, nobody really believes that can happen. (Fiction writing, or film, is very effective in that regard because it has the ability to spin 'new worlds' out of thin air -- after-lives, multiple dimensions, alternate timelines, etc. -- all designed to make sure that the personality endures forever).

A show like Lost is great for examining the whole nature of personality, because here are all these people stranded on this deserted island (at least, it seems to be deserted -- the hint is constantly given, of course, that it is not deserted, and that of course plays perfectly into our hopes that we are not truly alone in life), with no distractions (except for their memories -- although unlike Kwai Chang Caine in Kung Fu, who lived half his life via flashbacks, Lost does it via parallel storylines). In having no distractions, they basically have nothing but their relationships with each other. And it is here where it's possible to see into the illusory nature of personality, and why most wisdom-traditions agree that personality does not survive the death of the body. (Even when they proclaim that something survives the death of the body, most traditions agree that this 'something' is not the conventional personalty).

So what the hell is the personality? For one thing, it is clearly an interactive phenomenon, interdependent, and entirely dependent on the actions of other personalities. Personality is more rightly understood as a process, not a 'thing'. For example: put a bossy person in a room with another person who is even more bossy. Soon the first bossy person will no longer be bossy. So, what happened to their bossiness? Etc.

If personality is largely interactive and dependent on other personalities to define itself, then clearly it can have no substantial, intrinsic nature. It is something of a mirage, a play of light and shadows. All wisdom traditions agree that the illusory facade of the personality must be seen through if there is to be any hope to penetrate deeper, to more essential and timeless truths.

The expression 'find yourself' is of course a cliche, and like all cliches, it carries no real power, because it lacks the ability to hold our attention. But that's not because it lacks truth. In fact, it is a great truth that to 'find ourselves' is a crucial step. But it is not possible without first 'losing ourselves'. There is a well known expression from Zen, that Dogen once wrote:

To study the Buddha way is to study the self.
To study the self is to forget the self.
To forget the self is to be enlightened by the ten thousand things [i.e., everything].
To be enlightened by the ten thousand things is to free one’s body and mind, and those of others.

To 'study the self' is to gaze unflinchingly into the personality, and see clearly its nature -- and how, like these guys on the island in Lost -- it is so utterly dependent on the personality-manifestations of others.

To 'forget the self' is to see through the ever-changing nature of personality, and to become less attached to its manifestations (i.e., its behavior -- and especially, the behavior of others).

In 'forgetting the self' (personality), we can become 'enlightened by the ten thousand things' because now we are open to the deeper truths of Reality that surround us at all times. To get there, however, it is essential that we let go of attachment to our personality.

In short, we need to 'get lost' in order to 'be found'. We need to see deeply and honestly into the dependent nature of personality, in order to become free of the illusion that we are our personality.

We are not our personality. That is merely the 'psychological clothing' we dress up in. We are something much deeper.