What Scares Me, Uganda and Africa

*Photograph taken by Bryan Juliano            

   There’s just something about Africa that scares me. I’ve been fortunate enough to literally go to the other side of the world in Okinawa, Japan. Let me tell you that when we were not in Tokyo, the world was foreign to say the least. Our Western culture shares its similarities and differences with the Far East and I enjoyed my visit with family stationed there; I had the chance to see a little more than the average tourist! That was a trip in my past. One that I have in my future is to serve in some impoverished, third-world country in South America. I am drawn to my Catholic brothers and sisters that predominantly populate some of the nations below the equator.

Geoffrey Ochem*

               But there remains this strong fear and maybe some awe for Africa. Whatever limited knowledge I can conjure up to rattle off for a class derived from an earlier class that briefly touched on Africa. Media has its scopes on Egypt and Libya, Yemen at times, and whatever interactions northern countries have with Europe. But I feel like in the instances of Egypt and Libya, their appearances in our limited news coverage only revolve around the “revolution of the Middle East” and its spread to the northern countries of Africa. (Even though Libya’s violence stems from a different root-bear with me!) Yemen; I heard about it in an Outside article which christened it the most dangerous tourist destination for Americans. And since my interest with European current events is spread thin from Greece to France with economic hardships, I occasionally hear about immigration problems from North Africa.

               I also would like to add that my fear of Africa probably derives from yes, my ignorance above, as well as my European history classes and reading The Ear, the Eye, and the Arm by Nancy Farmer. If I can sum up European imperialism in the 19^th and 20^th centuries: they done screwed the African nations over big time. Maybe I feel some sort of regret? Not that I had any direct affiliation 150 years ago, but I suppose that is a factor. It could also be the disservice of certain history courses that revolved around Europe, the Americas, and Asia. (So that would be my fault; I chose the classes.) I read The Ear, the Eye, and the Arm in middle school. In essence, the plot revolved around a futuristic Zimbabwe. Within this Brave New World setting existed a tribe. And now that I have mentioned Brave New World, the same sort of abstraction-from-society theme lies in Huxley’s pages as well (and probably predates Farmer.) Yet, The Ear, the Eye, and the Arm painted a picture in my late childhood. There was a heavy contrast between polar opposites in the financial spectrum. And now, any media coverage on Africa fits this preceding mental image of Africa I have had ever since I was thirteen.

               I still have this fear; maybe even more so after attending Front Line’s Invisible Children presentation. After the last seminar I attended on child violence in Philadelphia, it has begun to grind my gears. Though I have not taken some heroic proactive stance on the issue, I was drawn to tonight’s topic, now shifted to scary Africa. As I mentioned above, through the eyes of slanted media (in addition to my lacking motivation to look for a fuller variety of sources,) I have recently seen Africa in struggle and turmoil. By attending tonight, I felt like I was witnessing a car crash; I just could not look away. Yes, I was toying with my fear and facing it by showing up to a proactive meeting. But I also thought it was an opportunity to let a darker human form of fascination. Why would I be drawn to this horrendous reality of children enslaved to murder under warlords? And to clarify, when I say drawn, I mean like a moth to the light-not to be confused with some sort of sadistic-masochist attraction.

               Let me try to explain myself. Once I heard in Tony, a documentary on an individual’s life in northern Uganda, the term night commuters, I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Because of the apparent civil war in Uganda between the Lord’s Resistance Army and Ugandan government that has been waged for the past two decades, children that are caught in the crossfire of inhumane violence (yes, there is a difference between humane and inhumane violence-I found that out tonight,) go into cities or larger populations to sleep. They go from their homes to avoid violence and enslavement every night.

               As any 21^st century documentary might have, Tony depicted the truest of colors its namesake’s home. I can only say thank you to Front Line for not drawing out the horror inflicted by Joseph Convey’s LRA. What little coverage they used was enough. For me it was. But it obviously was not for Invisible Children. The documentary-style of Tony allowed for one of its producers and founders of Invisible Children, Laren Poole, to speak directly to the audience. In this address, he said something along the lines of: “Now you’ll hear from someone Uganda…” I did not actually think he meant it.

               Geoffrey Ochem is twenty-four. His village was raided by the LRA when he was sixteen. He was pressed into service when he and two of his friends, Simon and Peter, witnessed the murder of a child soldier who was used as an example. Two months later, Geoffrey escaped from being rope-bound to ten other captive-soldiers in a firefight with Ugandan government forces. Tonight, six years later, he still does not know where Simon and Peter are. By the way, Geoffrey’s personality was shy in certain ways as well as firm. His English was choppy at times, but when he knew what he wanted to say, his point came across clearly; Uganda, his home, is ravished by irrepressible sectarian violence. What hit me hard was that he was seemingly more nervous about being in front of college students than emotional over his recollection of his past. His sincere laughs ended his answers to our questions adding a bit of light-heartedness to the grim reality put before us. That was most notable in my book; how he stood there, completely opening his heart to retell a few atrocities.

               So, where’s the hope? Does this mean my fear of Africa is justified or increased? I’d say so. But wait, that was Invisible Children’s goal, wasn’t it? Maybe not to induce fear, but somewhere near it. Geoffrey finished courses at his university and is graduating with a B.A. in teaching. He plans on teaching secondary history and economics. For one, his story is the epitome of Invisible Children’s objective: promote education. Another underlying theme throughout Tony that was reiterated indirectly by Geoffrey’s own words is the harm American arrogance can cause. In Tony, Jolly Okot, the initial Ugandan contact for the Laren Poole and founders, stressed the incrimination caused by free stuff from America. Geoffrey, when asked by the audience what his initial impression of the States was, answered, “I did not plan on coming to the U.S.”

 What I took away from both points was American resources and America itself is not this readily-made solution that is capable of being specifically cut for Uganda’s violence. Even when a bill proposed by Invisible Children’s Laren Poole reached and passed in Congress last year to capture/stop Joseph Convey, the fact that his violence is spreading past Uganda points to the limitation to America’s readiness to throw Uganda a bone after bureaucracy had its say.

As a final point of reflection, I think my fear increased. The reality of the violence in Uganda was brought to my doorstep. A member of Invisible Children, Nate, was murdered in the terrorist attack in Kampala during last year’s World Cup. Some proactive groups have videos that play off emotions to gain financial and vocal support. But I have never come away from a presentation more fearful than I had initially walked in with; thanks Invisible Children.

*Photograph taken by Bryan Juliano

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Collective Efficacy: An Abstraction or a Real World Application?

           I hold a soft grudge against Ivy-League graduates; maybe not so much a grudge, but more of an incredibly high expectation. One of my good high school friends had the opportunity to attend a school at the level of above and beyond that many people so highly esteem. And, knowing how diligent of a student he was, I think that my high standard for Ivy grads is somewhat suitable. That being said, I find that some forms of higher education, me not to be excluded, can involuntarily distance a college student from the “real world.” Somehow, in my instance, my food just happens to be magically paid for when in fact there are quite a few sacrifices being made. My parent’s financial and moral support, the kitchen staff that seemingly lives in the back of the cafeteria, the university for overseeing that our tuition goes to the right places so we can we eat better. I say all of this because I, as a university student, like to immerse myself in what the “real world” dubs as the real world. What I mean by that is attending something along the lines of a seminar on youth violence in Philadelphia. I find that being informed on my surrounding community keeps me in touch with reality, which includes my thankfulness for being able to attend college. So to connect my points: acknowledging sacrifices, seeing the opportunity to hear about the “real world” from the real world, I feel like it’s my role to hear what people have to say. And then form my own opinion on it, of course.

               Dr. Felton Earls sees himself as a witness. He says he wants to become an ally, a potential partner with Philadelphia. His soft spoken demeanor suggested he retains experience in his field; he has been to Tanzania. He possesses credible data from his studies and has many awards tagged to his name. He has even created a new term called collective efficacy.

               While in Chicago, Dr. Earls measured the disorganization of 343 neighborhoods in the city limits. Collective efficacy was a scale that he established that used a universal rating system to determine how safe neighborhoods really were. His discoveries from investigating neighborhood responses to illegal activity broke social norms; Hispanic and middle class black neighborhoods apparently ranked very high on his scale. He also drew an interesting, yet not incredibly profound, correlation between death rates and low birth weight. I think it was unbelievable that collective efficacy was such an efficient means to measure this statistic; kudos to Dr. Earl. But I was at a loss when I started to think, “How could what we would already have been inferred without collective efficacy, now presented to us in data, be any more useful and applicable to the unsolved issue?”

               Between 1995 and 1999, Dr. Earls worked in Tanzania during a severe outbreak of HIV/AIDS. While working among two and three thousand population pockets, Dr. Earl found that 10-14 year old age groups worked the most effectively in conveying how to prevent the spread of HIV, educate the community on the biology of the disease, as well as become what he keyed “active citizens.” (Here’s where I got somewhat hung up on his titles and awards.) In essence, yes, as the opening speaker at this seminar, his story gave evidence to what the audience, panel, and community wanted to hear: children are capable of being more than violent, uneducated beings.

But what I personally found misleading was the veiled hope that a biased data collection from a rare pocket of two to three thousand population groups in Tanzania (of all places) was somehow grounds to promote the idea that collective efficacy was to be applied to American cities. Still, I did not see the connection between the data collected in Chicago or Tanzania to the positive results that Dr. Earl sheepishly denied had any relationship to his “work.” In the instance of Chicago, shortly after the data from his collective efficacy came in, the homicide rate dropped. I do not know if I did not catch the relationship between the data and the aftereffects, but I personally do not recall in his retelling how the raw data brought about change. Similarly in the Tanzania example, even when he explained that he was educating the masses, I could not figure out how whatever data he drew from the limited population groups linked to his effectively educating teenagers. I think that the data enabled for him to see where more education on diseases was needed. Certainly. But could he have not looked at the HIV/AIDS count and have said the same thing?

I thought the panel to follow his opening remarks would fill the missing link between the raw data and the resulting application of that knowledge. What I listened to instead was the hardships reality imposes on theoretical concepts. The panel included many prominent figures, much to my Virginian-boy surprise. It was the first time I had ever been to a seminar where the Deputy Philadelphia Police Commissioner, Acting Superintendent of the School District of Philadelphia, Deputy Mayor of Philadelphia-and others-sat together and spoke plainly and pragmatically about the issue at hand.

What followed inevitably cut and dried the lofty concept of collective efficacy. While each member of the panel agreed with the idea of collecting data, it seemed pointless to use time and resources to establish what they had already known. Youths are in danger. Youths are the future. Youths need to be protected in order to secure a better future. Data was not needed in order to convince any member on the panel to act now. They already were. And in the instance of the Police Department of Philadelphia where community policing has begun, collective efficacy was too late, or rather, it was already applied.

I spoke with a woman I work under that also attended the seminar the next day. When Ms. Jill asked what my impression was, I said it was coordinated and informative. Especially since my hometown experiences violence on a much smaller scale, the seminar brought me up to speed on Philadelphia’s current events and issues. Nevertheless, I told my employer that at the end of the session, something did not sit right inside me. While there was a positive flow of energy, there were no calls to action or any commitment or proposal put forward to initiate action against youth violence. Ms. Jill informed me that while we were in the lecture, four kids were shot and two later died from their wounds.

At that point, my optimistic sentiment took a turn for the worse. I feel like my cynical point of view expressed in this review of the seminar was created as a result of that startling reality. While it was important to acknowledge accomplishments and hear new ideas, the luxury of stopping to study and analyze is just too slow and impractical in this instance. 

Seeing the Underbelly of Philadelphia

My nerves were shot Tuesday morning. I have been spoiled this far in my first year at college: waking up incredibly early at 8:40 for my nine o’clock class. Rising for a reason non-Jack-schedule oriented was something new; Tuesday morning also marked the start of my complete first month spent away from home in my environment. Monumental, Tuesday was the gateway from my newly nested home to the bare, gray world of North Philadelphia.

                Service Learning was one of my highest reasons for coming to Saint Joseph's University. In order to continue a path of service for (and now with-as the Jesuits have put it) others, I have been anxious to begin. Having the luxury of choosing where in Philly I would go, there has been nothing but bright lights, the beautiful downtown area, and cheery SEPTA workers. Home back in Virginia was nothing like this except for the shared sense of nonchalance that came with my absent-minded consumerism on the weekends. I have to admit that the cool weather this past weekend set a pretty scene among the gridlock, but a cold front must have moved in as Tuesday saw nothing but rain.

                I drove to Mercy Neighborhood Ministries. Consequently, my perspective of my new home and its surroundings drastically changed. In a car there is safety, comfort, and protection from our external world. All of these qualities could be seen in a positive light, but having not driven for a month, I had become quite comfortable walking to classes, to SEPTA, to eat, to survive. Now, the car gave me status, a leg up on any of my neighbors in the community that had to still walk. I subconsciously judged in the slightest of ways as our 35 mile per hour speed allowed for us to zoom by anyone else I would have had to look in the eye, say hello, or walk awkwardly by without even a nod. Cut off from my surroundings as I drove to engage with the community, I had a sinking feeling in my stomach.

                My father pointed in the paper to the new curfew that was set six weeks ago in Philadelphia within our sun-filled family room. I knew that community service would enable me to go at the beast head on when I reached Philadelphia; single-handedly solve all the city’s issues through Jesuit tradition! But this past Tuesday sang a different tune; one of bleakness and a never ending depth. It must have been the clouds as we drove over the Delaware River, which in my mind, had been the line drawn between my home and the great unknown.

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                My two service partners, Graziella and Earl, sat in our gold Ford Focus as we snaked through elevated cemeteries. Eerie. I felt twice as far away from home, wherever that was now, as we passed garbage-strewn streets. Litter, shady sections of cities, and the hair standing on the back of my neck have all been past experiences. It irked me, nonetheless, when the realization hit me that I would be serving here.

                I have done PACEM meals, I have worked with kids with chronic illnesses, and I have volunteered for the Special Olympics. None of the above had placed me into the direct area where my new community partners lived. Frustrated when the MapQuest directions ended with us a block away from our actual destination (without me knowing our proximity,) I panicked. Ask Graziella or Earl. I did not want to park and walk aimlessly in the hope of finding our endpoint.

                Once inside, we had a second set of doors to go through. But there was a doorbell that rang at the front desk. Again, this was a small difference from something I am familiar with back home. As to the people inside, they had nothing but smiles. Strong smiles. There was no falsehood in their words, especially Ms. Barbara, who toured us around. Leaving, I could not decide whether the five and six year olds’ smiles out did the elderly’s, or vice versa, but both rekindled my passion to get involved.

                But our thirty-six minute meet and greet had us back in the Focus sooner than we expected as I timed every little detail for our trip next Tuesday. I took note of where the young children would walk to school after coming to Mercy Neighborhood in the morning. I saw several people out and about. I wished that the immediate area had somehow cheered up as the sun came out, but I realized that dedication and diligence was more needed than wishful thinking.

                I had the luxury of sitting co-pilot on the return trip. We passed many abandoned buildings. It seemed as if every other shop was boarded up. I recognized the SEPTA emblem at a bus stop. There is a connection between the community across the river and us university students, and it is more than the transportation system.

Postnatal Abortions=Infanticide=Homicide

Giovanni Battista's The Madonna and Child in Glory with Cherubs

Upon reading this post, I couldn't help but have my own response. I would like to point out the argument of how the sex culture of America is the factor to look at in any of these instances (abortions, infanticide, and homicide.) Anyone would be a fool to ignore that an American teenage girl has been given the green light by society to have sex. Several of these "green lights" are seen in condom commercials making it on TV, the tendencies and promotions of sex as an inevitable act of pleasure in SexEd classes in schools, and our culture that says yes to everything and anything an individual wants i.e. greed. I personally find that any movement for postnatal abortions ignores the fact that a woman is seen only for her sex. And if any argument should be made about the woman in the instance of an abortion, it shouldn't be about if its a choice, her choice, or any choice is to be made at all, but rather that the woman has been subdued by a paternalistic society. This shouldn't be shocking because based on the reality, who has the abortion? Males are never  held accountable for their actions in these instances because they never have been held to such a standard since it was absurd to have sexual relations with a woman out of wedlock. While this argument could go straight to the argument over marriage is the only place for sex, I find that one has to look no further than our local communities. I find it horrific that PlannedParenthood or any clinics that ultimately end in decimation (rather, death,) should be considered or esteemed so highly as bright and cheery resources for a woman. It's considerably flip flopped in that the woman is "free" after submitting to have sex and given the ability to erase any trace of responsibility or submission. In this Culture of Death that we promote, it is seemingly mechanical for the woman to make the hardest decision with what to do after sex. I find that something as destructive and evil as postnatal abortions is just a glimpse of how far our (world) culture is willing to go in order that our immediate, hedonistic pleasures; the highest of these being sex.

Thoreau Living Hinduism's Doctrine Through A Buddhist Lifestyle Part 2

To recap on my last post:

“The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.”-Henry David Thoreau

To fully undertake the Eight Fold Path in order to end dukkha, or lives of quiet desperation, one must cut off their ignorance. And so when something profound like transcendentalism appears to mainstream America in the late 19^th century, only that which can coincide with our comfort is learned and accepted from that philosophy. 

Reasons why we tend to be surrounded by comfort are found within technology. Technology should never be condemned, and within Buddhism’s Three Components, prajna encompasses the benefits that inventions bring. Described as an accurate understanding of reality, prajna accepts technology because it is a part of reality; its transformation. But prajna isn’t found within a Westerner’s vocabulary. We have no discernment; our logic isn’t prajna. Nevertheless, we still find ways to justify gluttony and desire. Hedonism is now called “play;” we go to work and we come home on the weekends to play. Engaging in ephemeral pleasure and abusing technology delude what our true desires are and become factors that make pictures of Kali seem so shocking and primal. To have our ignorance that resides in our beautiful and omnipotent heads chopped off by a fierce female deity is abhorred by not only the arrogant, presumptuous, and self-righteous, but also the weak, lazy, and incompetent. I think that going straight after our egos, our tanhas, with a sword wielded by a higher being is something that completely contradicts our self-gratifying Western society.

I think looking at Thoreau’s radical movement really puts Hinduism’s ideology into perspective; it is not simple, it is not half-hearted, and it certainly isn’t a Sunday-only devotion. When you start looking into the Four Yogas, you realize how inclusive Hinduism is, especially when it engulfs Buddha as an avatar of Vishnu. What is to be gained through the practice of yoga, particularly raja yoga that embodies psychophysical tests on a yogi, is similar to what Thoreau wishes to achieve at Walden Pond. However, even though Thoreau’s profound experience came across as a radical response to the 19^th century, it is not radical enough. This isn’t to say that Hinduism trumps transcendentalism, but it does hint at how something profound in Western society is dwarfed by mainstream Eastern culture.

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There are burdens that the First Amendment of United States Constitution instills. A common Hindu philosophy is discerning right from wrong, what is holy and divine, and ultimately what is atman or soul; “Neti…neti…” which translates into “Not this…not that…” And this is the complete opposite of freedoms that are given, particularly those within the First Amendment. Freedoms say “this is acceptable…this is acceptable.” And this isn’t necessarily suppose to be bad or limited, but look at how much precedes and follows the First Amendment, seven articles and nine amendments. And again, this isn’t to say that Hinduism’s “neti” discernment process is a one-size fits all moral law, but with prajna, one is able to make decisions and say no, rather than be tempted to test the legal restraints. I immediately think of the protesting at the Lance Corporal’s funeral in Kansas, it was within the restraints of the law, but what was ultimately gained from using the law in that way?

               I think that the idea of laws saying “this is acceptable, this isn’t” is another reflection of how gluttonous and self-assertive we are in the West, especially when our freedoms were initially instituted to protect our self-interests, our tanhas. Protecting our excessive wants and desires make it even harder to ever consider chopping our egos off for the sake of devoting time to someone else, much less a god, or God, or even our true selves. Our atmans, souls, aren’t reaping the benefits of our hedonistic indulgences. “Ephemeral” doesn’t mean anything when technology and innovations make it cheap for replacements. Our animas, to trump our weak English word for soul with an etymologically superior word coming from Latin, aren’t fueled by our tanhas, but are weakened drastically.

               As an aside, the Media plays into our tanhas. The availability of what news we want to hear, when want it, and how we are going to receive it are all now determined by the individual. This is just another example of how we are able to shape our worlds into what we want, and this is consequently the definition of gluttony. We may or may not need news, but since it is there, we might as well obtain it for what it is worth. However, instead of consuming it raw, uncooked, and pure, we begin to perceive reality in a skewed telescope. We no longer perceive the tangible reality of this world, which in Buddhist, Hindu, and transcendentalist contexts is not the ultimate reality. 

Thoreau Living Hinduism's Doctrine Through A Buddhist Lifestyle

               “The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.” The recognition of this statement as reality is Truth. It is also the first of the Four Noble Truths in Buddhism. What Henry David Thoreau paraphrases into a simple sentence happens to encompass a much larger philosophy of dukkha, or suffering. Hinduism similarly points out that the human condition is samsara, which is life’s wheel of birth and death. The three beliefs, transcendentalism, Buddhism, and Hinduism prescribe medication, or rather certain rituals and practices to heal oneself of reality’s inflicting pain. The concept of life not being experienced fully is pointed out in Thoreau’s philosophy. Quiet desperation is prominent, hence “the mass of men lead” this short-sighted and ephemeral life style. Hinduism’s term samsara describes the limited life Thoreau mentions as innate; human beings are born with this dukkha, or the suffering of living in the veiled world.

Shiva Nataraja

               Hinduism’s definition of the human condition is the most complex of these three definitions. Samsara incorporates an identification of the unconscious because one is not able to recall previous lives. This belief that one has lead many lives through samsara is profound and seems irrelevant and foreign compared to Thoreau’s idea of quiet desperation. The dizziness that samsara can create, best depicted in the Hindu artwork of Shiva Nataraja sculptures does not encompass what the quiet desperation happens to embody. But if one was to look at these two concepts from a more general viewpoint, they both require the same medication. Quiet desperation calls for the recognition of nature as ultimately being God. The process through which one recognizes the ultimate reality of God is samsara’s opposite, moksha, or liberation from life’s repetative cycle. Moksha can be achieved through the Four Yogas which inevitably lead a yogi, the equivalent of a transcendentalist following Thoreau’s ideals, through several stages before reaching the final goal of moksha. These two medications are the same because “desperation” is in fact samsara; it is the fear of life’s unending cycle and consequently, the fear exclusively in desperation is a continuation of samsara.

               Thoreau’s prescription to cure a man’s life of his quiet desperation put in the simplest of terms is experiencing nature. It is crucial to understand that the quiet desperation derives from Thoreau’s previous life in New England life before becoming a transcendentalist. It’s also worth noting that the desperation is quiet because it is shameful. It is a weakness in Thoreau’s New England world to visibly wear the weight of life’s burden.  What Thoreau is escaping from in the “real” world, the world that is noisy, despairing, and hedonistic, is what yogis try to escape through the prescription of the Four Yogas. Raja yoga best exemplifies a transcendentalist’s escape from the world. Because a transcendentalist is not a reform worker or religious fanatic, he is not a karmic or bhakti yogi. The preliminary requirements for raja yoga are “one’s personal life needs to be in order by practicing the five abstentions that restrain one from injury, lying, stealing, sensuality, and greed.” (Huston Smith, 34.) This mirrors Thoreau’s previous life before escaping to Walden Pond; studying at Harvard University. There is a certain amount of preparation that both the yogi and transcendentalist undergo in order to fully experience moksha and nature.

               While these two types of believers follow strict rules, they in essence achieve what they are striving for in their work. “The object of…raja yoga is to unplug one’s sense receptors…or put them on hold so the clatter of the world’s boiler factory won’t disturb the yogi’s concentration.” (Smith, 37.) The escape a transcendentalist makes from society is this unplugging of one’s sense receptors. Both Thoreau and raja yoga point that too often are one’s surroundings and they are distracting and perverse. This establishes a need to perform rituals, such as raja yoga, to reach an ultimate truth above quiet desperation. This truth, found in nature and moksha, ultimately bring one to what is ultimately real. Realizing that there is in fact more to life than just quiet desperation is moksha, and to achieve it, one most consume and perform the necessary prescriptions that their medication calls for in healing.

               Buddhism prescribes explicitly what medication to take and in what dosage. Buddhism takes the Hindu term samsara a step further in explaining what it embodies. Known as the first of the Four Noble Truths, dukkha, meaning suffering, is what Thoreau coins as quiet desperation. The second of the Four Noble Truths is the cause of dukkha known as tanha, or thirst or craving. (Smith, 70-71.)This thirsting is fueled by kleshas, which are afflictive emotions and mental defilements. (Robert Clark.) Kleshas are divided into the Three Poisons: greed, hatred, and delusion. Thoreau viewed these as the causes for a man to consequently live a life of quiet desperation. Quiet desperation, or kleshas, creates negative karma. In the Buddhist context, negative karma builds the amount of dukkha one undertakes.

The Four Noble Truths, however, don’t only echo the reality of dukkha; they also prescribe a cessation to its harm. Known as the Eight Fold Path, the Fourth Noble Truth is a course of training to end quiet desperation. The Three Components establish context for the marga, or path: sila meaning ethics, dhyana depicting concentration, and prajna, an accurate understanding of reality which translates into English as wisdom. (Clark.) Viewed as a pyramid, the Three Components are founded on sila. Ethics are ruled by the Five Precepts that hinder killing, stealing, lying, sexual misconduct, and the consumption of intoxicants. (Smith, 74.) By observing these laws, one is able to step to the next level of the pyramid known as dhyana. Concentration in this context refers to meditation, and through the practice of it, one can attain prajna, an accurate understanding of reality. Prajna is known as wisdom because wisdom allows for one to fully embody the Three Marks of Existence: dukkha, anicca, and anatman.

The Three Marks of Existence are the ultimate goal which Thoreau desires to reach, that is wisdom. Dukkha, or realizing that one does suffer, is the first step that leads one back to the beginning of the Four Noble Truths. Anicca means impermanence which encompasses the idea of an accurate understanding of reality. Anatman literally means “no-self.” Deriving from Hinduism’s term atman,

Kali

anatman rejects the egocentrism that a life of quiet desperation carries; self-centeredness, known as tanha, restricts one to fully partake in dhyana and prajna. (Smith, 71.) Hindu and Buddhist artwork depict the bloody rejection of egos, which inevitably derives from our ignorance. In certain portrayals of the Hindu goddess Kali, her necklace of severed skulls is the egos of her devotees. To fully undertake the Eight Fold Path to end dukkha, or lives of quiet desperation, one must cut off their ignorance.

This is where minute differences begin to appear between Thoreau’s ideal Walden Pond and Buddha’s strict teachings that derived from Hinduism’s seemingly sanguine doctrine. To an extent, it can be viewed that in the East, this shedding of hedonistic pleasures in a gory fashion are not warmly welcome in the West. If any change is to take place, even the “most dramatic” like Thoreau’s escape to Walden Pond, it is not painful. I think that there is too much gluttony and accessibility to comfort and the apparently profound idea of chopping this tanha, this “ego-oozing” desire as Smith puts it, from ourselves is too difficult and overly demanding. This can also be weighted with the West’s growing xenophobia, but I think there is more than just a fear for what is distant to us; there is a fear of dramatic change, even in this case when it is for the obvious better. It can be based on my opinion, but there is much to be gained from these outlying philosophies that reject the fulfillment of our egos. I think that much of what is coined with transcendentalism today is sustainable living, and thus it remains on the fringes of society. But in the East, both Hinduism and Buddhism thrive on the surface of Asian culture. I think that the “dramatic and bloody” baptism into a life of anatman is inevitably lacking within Western, fringe philosophy. Because we feel comfortable half-associating ourselves with certain ideals, we are able to pick and choose qualities of certain philosophies. And so when something profound like transcendentalism appears to mainstream America in the late 19^th century, only that which can coincide with our comfort is learned and accepted from that philosophy.