Prospection v. meditation…
“Relax. Become one with your present. Make your mind empty.” These are some meditation recommendations among many you might find on YouTube (or hear from a certain weekend anchor on ABC’s GMA—like many celebs, he has a book, and it’s about meditation). It’s all malarkey, especially if you want to write fiction.
As a student of theoretical physics, I was attracted to Zen Buddhism, maybe the ultimate meditation protocol. There’s a strong nexus between it and modern astrophysics, for example. I wanted to seek enlightenment after hearing about its precepts back in the sixties. Call it my religious studies period (if you can call reading many works on religion and Heinlein’s Stranger in a Strange Land religious studies), although my math and physics courses took up a bit of time too.
Don’t get me wrong. I wasn’t into hallucinogenic substances or becoming a complete sot (I was more of a bourbon fan—now it’s Jameson Irish whiskey). I’ve always valued a clear mind—it’s about all that’s ever worked well enough to set me a wee bit above my peers. And not being able to get into a lotus position wasn’t why I failed at Zen.
The reason for my failure was more profound as it turns out: When I was supposed to get into that restful state and put all worldly concerns aside, I couldn’t. My mind would start a burst of activity where I “explored” solutions to Einstein’s general relativity equation (never could remember the solutions, though), or created clever story plots (some of those I remembered and used much later), or wondered what the statistical mechanics exam two weeks in the future would contain (remembered only dread there because the prof was an ogre). I failed at “transcendental meditation” (or whatever Allan Watts called it).
Now I don’t feel guilty about flunking Zen, as it were. In Steven Johnson’s article “Time Travelers” in the NY Times Magazine (11/18), all was explained to me. The author quotes UPenn psychologist Martin Seligman: “What best distinguishes our species is an ability that scientists are just beginning to appreciate: we contemplate the future. A more apt name for our species would be Homo prospectus because we thrive by considering our prospects. The power of prospection is what makes us wise.” In their resting state, human beings naturally do what I was doing. Meditation in the Zen style or any other style is contrary to human nature if the expectation is to empty your mind of all your cares!
Later on in the same article an observation is made that should help any fiction writer: “The invention of storytelling itself can be seen as a kind of augmentation of the default gift for time travel [i.e. the gift produced by the brain’s default network]. Stories do not just allow us to conjure imaginary worlds; they also free us from being mired in linear time. Analepsis and prolepsis—flashbacks and flash-forwards—constitute some of the oldest literary devices in the canon….” The default network mentioned is what’s supposed to take over naturally when our minds are at rest. Its wild activity is seen on PET scan devices and ensures that such observations of brain activity “at rest” do not serve as a control point to be used in other experiments.
What this all implies is that storytelling separates us from other live creatures on this planet. Moreover, it implies that sci-fi is the ultimate literary form! By reading it or writing it, we are exercising that default network to the max, “giving our minds more time to wander, to slip the surly bonds of now, to be out of the moment.” Mysteries might exercise our logical centers and puzzle-solving abilities; thrillers might stimulate our emotions and desires for action; but sci-fi exercises the imagination of readers and writers, projecting them into the future or far away from earthly normality.
In Teeter-Totter between Lust and Murder, Detective Castilblanco leaves Catholicism to begin his training as a Buddhist. This is carried through several novels. His guru in Brooklyn is an old ex-physicist (there’s a real center for that training in Brooklyn). Looks like I might have shorted Detective Castilblanco, although he’s a character and not the fiction writer, yours truly. Or maybe human beings need both mental “exercises”—meditation, where we lose our selves and become one with the cosmos; and prospection, where we exercise our default networks.
What do you think?
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Comments are always welcome.
Goin’ the Extra Mile. #3 in the “Mary Jo Melendez Mysteries,” this novel returns to the heart-pounding action of #1 and the intrigue and suspense of #2. The U.S. created the MECHs (“Mechanically Enhanced Cybernetic Humans”), Russia stole them, and now China wants them…and will kidnap Mary Jo and her family to get them. Available on Amazon and Smashwords and all the latter’s affiliated retailers (Apple iBooks, B&N, Kobo, etc).
Reviews on Goodreads and Amazon are all five-star ones so far. Here’s one: “I was captivated by the end of the first chapter, and I couldn’t stop reading. The author did an incredible job with character development and storyline. The twists and turns of this suspenseful read will have you turning pages as fast as possible. I was trying to guess what was going to happen next, but the author kept surprising me. I enjoyed every chapter of this book and look forward to reading more from this author”.—Valerie, in her Goodreads five-star review
In libris libertas!
