Buddhist economist Sulak Sivaraksa has advice for Western capitalist societies.

"Globalisation," he writes, "is a demonic religion imposing materialistic values," and "a new form of colonialism". If Cameron is fond of the odd cola on the beach, he'd better stop. "To drink Coca-Cola or Pepsi-Cola in Siam is not just to ingest junk food, but to support exploitative values." Economic crises such as those that hit the West in 2008 and East Asia a decade earlier are "heavenly messengers" to "encourage us to seek alternative" models – as Sivaraksa told a no doubt startled James Wolfensohn, the former president of the World Bank.

via The Independent.

Sivaraksa's view is that true happiness is not to be found in material gains or in the constant pursuit of unlimited growth, but starts with the search for inner calm. "You in the West have been indoctrinated by the Cartesian concept of thinking: I think, therefore I am. But the ego, the 'I' – it's not real. We are all inter-related." His path is not "cogito ergo sum" but "I breathe, therefore I am".

"We breathe all the time, yet we are not taught how to. Are we so arrogant that we ignore the most important element in life? Once you learn how to breathe properly, respect the air, cultivate peace within, that is the beginning of Gross National Happiness."

It also means doing away with what he considers the West's "mania for success": "Real success is not to conquer others, not to have more cars and money, but to appreciate what you have, how to share with others."

He admits that what he proposes may strike some as "Eastern garbage". Neither would all find it easy, or even desirable, to follow one example he gives of a friend in America: "He noticed that when a man he knew missed a bus, he would say, 'Wonderful! I have more time to contemplate.' The same when the train was late. My friend asked how he had this attitude, and he said: 'I'm a Buddhist.'"

Instead, Sivaraksa stresses that the West has its own traditions that he thinks we should revisit. "You need to go back into your spiritual past, to those such as Francis of Assisi. In my opinion, that's very close to the Buddhist approach." For Sivaraksa, a rationalism that only accepts what can be proven scientifically has led us to ignore riches from our own culture. "The West took Plato, Socrates and Aristotle only on the intellectual level. Plato's the man! Everything else is footnotes. But in Plato, there is also mysticism – being in the cave, talking to the gods. You dismissed all that."

Sivaraksa suggests that the West should open itself up to "cognitive diversity", to truths from different cultures. "As Gandhi said, 'Any wind coming through.'" Or, as Sivaraksa puts it in his new book: "We uncritically accept 'established knowledge' ... It is time for us to question the fundamentals of the Enlightenment in order to become truly enlightened."

Brad Pitt on Terence Malick & The Tree of Life:

Terry has an embrace for Christianity, for all religions, but not in the textbook definition of Christianity. You're looking at a man who loves science, and has an interpretation and a feeling for God. In America those two things usually don't coincide. And yet he sees the two as one: he sees God in science and science in God.

I also grew up in a Christian environment, and as I became an adult — it doesn't work for me. I hesitate to say anything about religion, and yet I think I should say it, when so many wars are spawned by it. I got my issues; I can't talk about it without getting a little bit hot. It's probably not best for me to talk about that. But I was actually very comfortable playing within the religious iconography, because I lived that.

I'd say that Tree of Life is not a Christian so much as a spiritual film. I was surprised, watching it last night, how powerfully it struck me. What the film was saying to me is that there is an unexplained power; there is this force. And maybe peace can be found, but not by trying to explain it with the religion. Maybe there's peace to be found just in that acceptance of the unknown.

via TIME.

Barth CD I/2 8:50 am

"we distinguish the Bible as such from revelation. A witness is not absolutely identical with that to which it witnesses"

8:53 am

"there is no point in ignoring the writtenness of Holy Writ for the sake of its holiness, its humanity for the sake of its divinity"

9:02 am

"There is a notion that complete impartiality is the most fitting disposition for true exegesis... [this notion is] merely comical"

10:52 pm

“@mollyborst: @pavi whew! Did "I" finally finish Barth?” you wish! we've only done 2/13. reading #bloom for a break. back to soon :)

The end of my addiction to fame happened at the exact moment Roseanne dropped out of the top ten, in the seventh of our nine seasons. It was mysteriously instantaneous! I clearly remember that blackest of days, when I had my office call the Palm restaurant for reservations on a Saturday night, at the last second as per usual. My assistant, Hilary, who is still working for me, said—while clutching the phone to her chest with a look of horror, a look I can recall now as though it were only yesterday: “The Palm said they are full!” Knowing what that really meant sent me over the edge. It was a gut shot with a sawed-off scattershot, buckshot-loaded pellet gun. I made Hil call the Palm back, disguise her voice, and say she was calling from the offices of Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman. Instantly, Hil was given the big 10-4 by the Palm management team. I became enraged, and though she was uncomfortable doing it (Hil is a professional woman), I forced her to call back at 7:55 and cancel the 8:00 reservation, saying that Roseanne—who had joined Tom and Nicole’s party of seven—had persuaded them to join her at Denny’s on Sunset Boulevard. The feeling of being used all those years just because I was in the top ten—not for my money or even my gluttony—was sobering indeed. I vowed that I would make a complete change top to bottom and rid myself of the desires that had laid me low. (I also stopped eating meat for a year, out of bitterness and mourning for the Palm’s bone-in rib-eye steaks.) As inevitably happens to all stars, I could not look myself in the mirror for one more second. My dependence on empty flattery, without which I feared I would evaporate, masked a deeper addiction to the bizarro world of fame. I had sold my time and company at deflated prices just for the thrill of reserving the best tables at the best restaurants at the very last minute with a phone call to the maître d’—or the owner himself, whose friendship I coddled just to ensure premium access to the aforementioned, unbelievably good smoked-salmon pizza.

via nymag.com.