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EMPTINESS:
SCIENCE, SPIRIT AND
THE SEARCH FOR THE IN-BETWEEN
Dr. Brian R. Sinclair, PhD FRAIC AIA(Intl)
Faculty of Environmental Design
University of Calgary, Canada
“What lies behind us and what lies before us
are tiny matters,
compared to what lies within us.”
Ralph Waldo
Emerson
ABSTRACT
Architectural design presents a viable model for complex
problem-solving beyond its disciplinary borders. Our contemporary condition, with its plethora
of convoluted and inter-related aspects, demands systems thinking and holistic
attention. The dualistic thinking so
prevalent in the West can be seen as one root cause of suffering, or
samsara. The arbitrary split of science
and spirit has led us down a path of difficulty and dilemma. Buddhist philosophy teaches that this dualism
or separation is problematic. Sunyata,
or emptiness, holds that such polarized thinking is misguided and that
appearances are illusory. Many of our
contemporary problems surface because of dualistic thinking and our delusionary
view that such thinking expresses truth and reality. This notion of sunyata contends that form is
void – our conceptions are artificial constructs that are subject to change,
much like waves that surface out of the vast ocean below.
Architectural design,
through its effective marriage of art, science, and spirit, provides one
exemplar with which to tackle modern maladies.
The reintroduction of spirit into the equation of systems approaches may
further serve to address ‘global bystander apathy’, or the situation whereby
individuals feel helpless and powerless standing in the midst of overwhelming
crises. Through the invocation of
spirit that is brought in balance with science, our society may gain the
insight and wisdom necessary to improve our realm. The Western world, and the Western mind, is
at a point of ‘kairos’, that moment that is ripe for metamorphosis of the gods
and that place between destruction and renewal.
The current paper presents numerous questions, posits some different
considerations, and calls for the forging of new relationships at this unique
and critical juncture in time and space.
The schism between science and spirit is one very visible
manifestation of dualistic thought; the tension between the two and our
attachment to them gives rise to conflict and suffering. Architectural design is paradigmatic in that
its practice bridges art and science while, consequentially, including spirit. Its holistic approach is exemplary for the
solving of complex problems – architecture’s union of art-science-spirit
reflects the Nagarjuna assertion of the Middle Way,
and as such begins to counter dualistic entrenchment. In the art-science and science-spirit
debates, architecture’s stance is to refuse to accept exclusively any of the
positions. The Indian classification
system of Satvik, Rajsik and Tamsik, as delineated by Kumar (1999), provides an
interesting and promising framework that can overlay and inform the
architectural design process.
Architectural design processes, especially if executed in the nature of
Satvik, have rich potential for the development and intervention of
environments, and problem-solving in a more general sense, for a world at risk.
KEYWORDS
Science, Spirit, Systems, Architecture, Design, World
Wisdom, Buddhism, Sunyata, Emptiness, Holism
ONE
“We live in an age of nuclear giants and ethical infants,
in a world that has achieved brilliance without wisdom, power without
conscience. We have solved the mystery
of the atom and forgotten the lessons of the Sermon on the Mount. We know more about war than we know about
peace, more about dying than we know about living.”
General Omar Bradley
“Where is the life we have lost in living?”
T. S. Eliot
Progress is often cherished and rewarded in contemporary
Western culture, although its definition and tolerance seems to have become
increasingly narrow and restricted in recent years. In North America
progress is seen as a heroic pursuit, with growth and profit clear measures of
success. Quarterly performance,
short-term vision, mergers and takeovers, aggregation and conglomeration are
all cast as good indicators of economic virility and a brighter tomorrow. Yet, in spite of high standards of living and
plenty of six-digit salaries, progress in the West has frequently been
portrayed as sadly misdirected and dramatically harmful. In this line of thinking our obsession with
technology and bottom-lines has come at great cost – namely an almost complete
and unquestionably risky unraveling of the tapestry of unity and holism that
has served humankind through our long history on this planet. Assuming center stage is rationalism,
empiricism, reductionism and ‘fact-as-measured-by-instrumentation’. Relegated
to the margins are those dimensions of life which we seem to most desperately
need today: relationship to nature, a sense of spirit, connection to place, and
the assurances of community.
Resurgence editor Satish Kumar (2000) has spoken of the
triad of ‘soil, soul and society’.
Others refer to the trinity of mind, body and spirit in an effort to
convey the complementary aspects of our lives that make us whole. The Western mind, in large measure through
the development of science and the
scientific method, has ushered in a deep divide between humankind and nature. While science has unquestionably contributed
much to our quality of life, and to our understanding of the world around us,
its Cartesian separation of mind from matter is unsettling. In our modern ethos we have moved far too
quickly, and with overconfidence, towards the clear distinction of subject from
object.
In our ‘progress-oriented’ delusion we have become enamored
with technology and uncomfortable with soul.
While the race for improved economic outcomes benefits immediate
stakeholders through yearly dividends and returns, it has negative and profound
impact outside the shareholders sphere of existence. Not the least inconsequential of these issues
are social injustice, unrestrained consumption, unsustainable economics,
destruction of community, and homogenization of cultures. In a 1916 lecture at Allahabad
University, Mahatma Gandhi spoke to
the question ‘Is economic progress real progress?’. In response Gandhiji noted, “I take it by
economic progress we mean material advancement without limit, and by real
progress we mean moral progress.” He
went on to clarify his position: “Modern society has always assumed that growth
is progress, that you grow or die. And
we continue to delude ourselves into believing that more and more technology is
progress and an answer to our problems.”
Gandhi’s insight and foresight, almost a century ago, prove remarkably
wise today. Throughout the past one
hundred years we have witnessed the repressive hegemony of our modern Western
industrial machine, driven largely by and in the name of science and
technology. It seems the primary
objective of this path has been to control and manipulate rather than to
cooperate and participate.
Today we are obsessed with the neat, the clean, the
carefully packaged, the easily acquired, the readily processed, the quickly
understood, the extremely digestible, the fast, the cheap, the shallow, and the
transient. A friend of mine, a Buddhist
monk skilled in the mystical arts and a newcomer to America,
conveyed to me his frustration trying to teach in a society that demands rapid
response, quick answers, and ‘mastery-in-a-box’. He offered a course to laypersons on the art
of thangka painting, a highly intricate and stylized art form requiring much
patience and great skill. At the initial
class students conveyed their goals of producing final ‘wall-ready’ paintings
by the end of the course -- within weeks many had dropped out, with the
persistent ones concerned about insufficient progress. These students are not to be faulted; they
have been conditioned by a culture that celebrates mobility above stability and
image before content.
The question of cultural conditioning is an interesting
aspect of contemporary America. Spin-doctors and media-types work on the
system, delivering the message of what we should buy, what we should eat, what
we should think and, in the final equation, who we should be. The aggressive message delivery, versus
encouraging ‘thinking-on-one’s-own’, begins in K-12 education and arguably
earlier through the potent vehicle of television. For example, in an article on educational
approaches Sarason (1998) notes, “The most rigorous study done of
question-asking in classrooms found that in a forty-five minute period the average
number of questions asked by students was two, and in some classrooms it may
have been one student who asked the questions.
The number of questions asked by teachers varied from a minimum of forty
to well over a hundred.” Educational
reform has been slow to surface and see realization. Likewise, other steps to stem the tide of
cultural conditioning in the West have been less than effective. The popularization of culture and the
‘dumbing down’ of its participants charges forward. Tsunamis prove uncontrollable.
Related to our current omnipresent and pervasive cultural
conditioning is the psychological and sociological phenomena of ‘bystander
apathy’ (Latane & Darley, 1969). In
1964 38 neighbors watched and listened, but did not act to help, as Kitty
Genovese was brutally murdered in urban America. The term ‘bystander apathy’ was coined to try
and characterize the diffusion of individual and personal responsibility that
surfaced in this case. Residents in the
housing complex where the murder occurred stared out their windows onto the courtyard
in denial, all believing that something so bad cannot be happening. All watched the drama unfold in helpless
fascination. Tarnas (2000) writes that
the schism between human beings and nature has ushered in a deep
desacralization of the world. He argues
this has “coincided with an increasingly destructive human exploitation of the
natural environment, a devastation of indigenous and traditional cultures, and
an increasingly unhappy state of the human soul.” Certainly as individuals many people recognize
this serious state of affairs. However,
I believe that like the neighbors of Kitty Genovese, many people today are in a
state of denial. They suffer from
‘global bystander apathy’, passively observing as our natural resources are
depleted, our cities are rendered uninhabitable, the gap between rich and poor
widens, our children go hungry, and transnational corporations wrestle power
and control from governments and citizens.
The modern world effects radical separation of subject and object, feeling
and thinking, inner and outer – the planet is being murdered while its
inhabitants “watch the drama unfold in helpless fascination.”
While the present split between head and heart seems
undeniable, it is important to seek paths that serve to reconnect these
symbiotic dimensions of our being. It is
always a difficult debate to posit spiritual avenues on one hand and scientific
routes on the other. Nonetheless, the
search for a system that embraces both is crucial to our effective grasp of the
cosmos and to the resolution of our many pressing and threatening crises. Tarnas (2000) states that, to counter the
disenchantment of the universe, “We need ways of knowing that integrate the
imagination, the intuition and the aesthetic sensibility.” I argue that architecture’s methods, and
especially the design processes employed within the discipline, afford one
model worthy of broader consideration to these ends.
TWO
Emptiness (sunyata): the final nature of phenomena, their absence of
inherent existence.
“The waves appear in
the ocean only for a fraction of a second and then they fall back into
that. So the water, the great body of
water, is a source of the implicit order out of which these forms are appearing
and they are
collapsing back into that.”
Mu Soeng (1998)
Physicist David Boehm, in his geyser analogy, referred to
unfolding and enfolding in an effort to explain forms and their underlying
order. From a Buddhist perspective form
is akin to appearance – it can be seen as an abstraction that has no direct and
demonstrable correspondence to reality.
Transcending this illusory mirage is emptiness, also known as
nothingness, voidness or, in Sanskrit, ‘sunyata’ which translates roughly as
‘zero’.
Western thinking, and especially thinking subsequent to the
scientific revolution and the Enlightenment, has been discriminating,
bifurcating, categorizing and polarizing.
Dualistic thought is today largely reflexive. Telos-Techne.
Subject-Object.
Emotional-Rational. Art-Science. Heart-Head. True-False. The path of Buddhism, and other related
wisdom traditions, argues that this dualistic thinking, when perceived as true
and real, becomes a source of human suffering.
Sharma (1993) states that, “If we are free from vikalpa, awaken to the
emptiness of dualistic discrimination, then we are emancipated from suffering
through the realization of sunyata.” It
seems that much of our suffering, conflict, and aggression relates to this
tendency to assume polarization in thought, posture and action.
The philosopher Nagarjuna developed the system of thought
known as Madhyamika (or the Middle Way)
– which intentionally assumes no position either affirming or negating
statements of reality. In essence all
such statements fall short of being expressions of ultimate truth. Returning to the science and spirit issue,
clearly neither path holds a monopoly on truth.
Tarnas (2000), in his discussion of the man-nature division that has
occurred across the past centuries and the ensuing separation of the modern
versus primal outlooks, emphasizes that “… each view is correct in a certain
way … each however is only a partial reading of a larger, deeper, and more
complex story.”
Siddhartha Gautama, the Buddha, taught about the benefits of
a balanced viewpoint and a moderate approach.
He told a tale of an accomplished musician playing a string
instrument. If any string is too taut is
snaps. If any string is too slack it
will not play. It is in the in-between,
that condition amid taut and slack, where function and performance proves
optimal. Balance is essential.
Science today attempts to reach beyond direct
measurement. Conversely, the wisdom
traditions attempt to embrace analysis and critical thinking. Both ends reach to the middle. Goodwin (2000) writes “Western science has
been phenomenally successful in its goal of unlocking nature’s secrets. However, it has now reached certain
boundaries and its limitations are themselves causing difficulties because
science is being applied to problems for which it is unsuited. Can science be expanded in ways that do not
alter its essential properties, but transform it so as to make it more
appropriate for engaging with the issues that have become so crucial to our
lives: living responsibly with nature, achieving health and good quality of
life in creative communities and organizations, reorganizing economic
principles and properties, among many others?”
For such opening of minds to occur, constrictive preconceptions and
dualistic thought must subside. While a
new paradigm must be far more credible and substantiated than a mere ‘leap of
faith’, a grasp of emptiness and some subscription to Nagarjuna’s Madhyamika
posturing is useful. Hindu’s refer to
the experience of Brahman – the one absolute reality that is at once the
universal principle and the self or spiritual aspect of each person. The scientific, empirical, linear and
rational way of looking at all phenomena can only take us so far, beyond which
lies paradox.
Nagarjuna’s position was to refuse to take a position. Dualistic thought is rejected. Eliminating conceptuality is at the root of
the search for suchness. With the grasp
of suchness (or voidness) comes insight and union. The notion of form versus emptiness is
perhaps best exemplified in the following excerpt from a Nyingma root text:
Mind has no form, color, or
concrete substance.
It is not to be found anywhere
outside or within your body, nor in-between.
It is not found to be a concrete
thing.
Even if you were to search
throughout the ten directions it does not arise from anywhere, nor does it
abide and disappear at any place.
Yet, it is not non-existent, since
your mind is vividly awake.
It is not a singularity, because
it manifests in manifold ways.
Nor is it a plurality, because all
these are of one essence.
There is no one who can describe
its nature.
But, when expressing its
resemblance, there is no end to what can be said.
It is the very basis of all
samsara and all nirvana.
THREE
“Cultivating the intuition means deliberately practicing methods of
investigation that pay attention to the feelings and images that arise in the
cause of systematic encounters with natural processes, as well as detailed
examination of quantifiable characteristics, leading to an experience of wholes
and their qualities.”
Goodwin (2000)
“…we are often
confronted with description of things, which are not architecture, as being
architectural, for example, the architect of a peace treaty, the architecture
of computers, even the architectonic of philosophy.”
Linder (1992)
Architectural design is a kind of alchemy – part glass box
and part black box. As a complex
marriage of art and science, design has commonly been charged with solving
complex ‘wicked’ problems that prove resistant to more linear approaches. Architects, as practitioners of these design
methods, have been characterized as a melange of artist, scientist and
mystic. Indeed, the ‘mystery of design’
has been a strong aspect of the profession that many architects have parlayed to
advantage.
While the argument can be made that all professionals have
some aspect of mystique to them, the field of architecture seems particularly
rich in this dimension. Harris (1993)
argues that, with respect to the professions, “Only a part of the knowledge
required for successful practice, that is, technical knowledge, is subject to
precise formulation.” She later posits
that “Practical knowledge, know-how, artistry, insight, judgement, and
connoisseurship are expressed only in practice and learned only through
experience with the practice.”
Architectural design and practice, despite repeated attempts by
researchers, defies precise codification.
Architecture can also be seen as having a strong craft
component. Distinguished from the
methods of technology and art, craft can be classified as “established practice
modified by idiosyncratic technique, utilized loosely and variably, with a
discretionary relationship to prescription, in a wide range of circumstances,
and aimed toward an indefinite but desired result.” (Oakeshott, 1962) The practice of design requires significant
components of both technical and practical knowledge, the former subject to
more explicit codification and the latter surfacing more mysteriously only in
the moments of engagement. As might be
expected, this mix presents some interesting challenges for architectural
educators who strive to prepare talented and competent design
professionals. Schön
(1983) wrote about reflective practice and ‘knowing-in-action’. Polanyi (1967) referred to the potency of
tacit knowing. Another way of
characterizing the more mystic aspects of architectural design is to realize
the practitioner knows more than s/he can say.
Returning to the dualistic thinking that has propelled the
rise of the art-science and science-spirit split, architecture has maintained
its holism against the odds. Design not
only marries art and science, but adds spirit into the recipe. It is arguably in the overlap of the three
that the mystery and alchemy arises.
Certainly many architects would accept the spiritual dimension of design
as an essential ingredient to success, although most would likely avoid any
religious connotation. While modern
pressures downplay the introduction of the spiritual to the scientific, architects
have long referred to the ‘divine spark’ that catalyzes a successful design
project. Another portrayal of the design
process comes from psychology and Gestalt, whereby the whole is greater than
the sum of the parts.
Design that moves too far to either pole is often
unsuccessful, being branded as either too pragmatic (scientific / functional)
or too poetic (artistic / formal).
Architects frequently seek a middle path – that is, using Nagarjuna’s
language, that balance between views or positions. Due to the fact that each building is usually
customized (i.e., no two problems and no two solutions are the same), serious
value is placed on invention, innovation and creativity. One strategy that may serve fields beyond
architecture is to view design as a complex system of activities that demand or
seek homeostasis. Like a three-legged
stool that requires each leg for stability of the whole, design brings together
art, science and spirit. The whole is
greater than the sum of the parts. The
system has at one and the same time form and no-form.
FOUR
“Already there are conflicts between communities and nations over land,
water, oil, fish, ‘pollution rights’, acid rain, genetic resources, forests and
many other resources. And such conflicts
can be expected to intensify and to exacerbate already frayed relationships
between women and men, between peoples of differing cultures, races, and
faiths. Some of the conflict will be
motivated by greed, some by extreme poverty, and some by despair.”
Barney, Blewett, Barney (1999)
“Twentieth century science has given rise to a marvelous paradox. The same extraordinary progress that has led
to predictions that we may soon know everything that can be known has also
nurtured doubts that we can know anything for certain. When one theory so rapidly succeeds another,
how can we ever be sure any theory is true?”
Horgan (1997)
What lessons are to be learned? Paramount
is our understanding of the complexity of systems and our need to embrace new
ways of thinking and acting. Our ethos
of increasing specialization, separation, narrowing of responsibility, and
often myopic vision, has resulted in ecological and urban enigmas that reside
beyond comprehension. The questions are
so complicated and interdependent that solutions prove evasive, especially when
sought from within the restrictive confines of a singular disciplinary vantage
point.
Architectural practice, and especially its design methods,
hold promise as a model for problem-solving across disciplines. In the past decade interest has been building
in design methods and studio practices from such fields as K-12 education,
engineering and medicine. Lateral
thinking and design iteration, common in the creation of architecture, holds
significant promise beyond the design professions. More research of the architectural design
process, and especially testing through outside application, is needed to
better understand the issues and to develop cross and inter-disciplinary
models. The potent link between mind and
matter needs to be reinforced. The
subjective must coexist with the objective.
The unity of the cosmos must be celebrated.
Satish Kumar (1999), in his autobiography entitled Path
Without Destination, reviewed the Indian science of classification. While it may seem ironic within the current
paper on emptiness, and especially given my plea to move beyond dualistic
thought, I think it proves valuable to review this particular classification
scheme in consideration of the current theses.
The Indian system acknowledges three categories that relate to how we do
and might exist: Satvik, Rajsik, and Tamsik.
This system provides a frame of reference pertaining to such activities
as eating, dressing and dwelling. Satvik
food, for example, is simple, local, seasonal and natural – it is the food of
gods, sadhus (Hindi holy men), mothers and babies. Rajsik is spicy, elaborate, lavish,
stimulating – it is the food of soldiers and merchants. Tamsik is about malevolent forces; it is
addictive and artificial. Our modern
Western ethos seems heavily slanted in the Tamsik direction. Kumar addresses architecture using this same
system: Satvik – simple, beautiful, appropriate-sized homes of natural and
local materials; Rajsik – opulent, expensive, palatial, exhibitionist, plush
and showy homes; and, Tamsik – high-rise homes built with plastic, asbestos and
other unnatural materials. What is most
interesting and compelling about this ancient approach is its profound
relevance as the new millennium opens.
This Indian classification system has great parallels with the Buddha’s
teachings on moderation and Nagarjuna’s philosophy of Madhyamika. Further, it holds promise as a vehicle to
inform and inspire design.
FIVE
Many of our contemporary problems surface because of
dualistic thinking and our delusionary view that such thinking is truth and
reality. The Buddhist notion of sunyata,
or emptiness, suggests that form is void – our conceptions are artificial
constructs that are subject to change, much like waves that surface out of the
vast ocean below. The schism between
science and spirit is one very visible manifestation of dualistic thought; the
tension between the two and our attachment to them gives rise to conflict and
suffering (samsara). Architectural design is paradigmatic in that its practice
bridges art and science while, consequentially, including spirit. Its holistic approach is exemplary for the
solving of complex problems – architecture’s union of art-science-spirit
reflects the Nagarjuna assertion of the Middle Way,
and as such begins to counter dualistic entrenchment. In the art-science and science-spirit
debates, architecture’s stance is to refuse to accept exclusively any of the
positions. The Indian classification
system of Satvik, Rajsik and Tamsik, as delineated by Kumar (1999), provides an
interesting and promising framework that can overlay and inform the
architectural design process.
Architectural design processes, especially if executed in the nature of
Satvik, have rich potential for the development and intervention of
environments, and problem-solving in a more general sense, for a world at risk.
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