XXI. A Scientist - Dalai Lama Dialogue at MIT

COS: I did want to bring up one final example that has been quite an experience for me-the event you put on with the Dalai Lama and all the others of your circle. It was quite amazing. There were maybe 1,100 in the audience?

Arthur Zajonc: Yeah, 1,100.

COS: We sat there for a couple of hours, and something took place. When I returned on that first evening, all of a sudden I realized that my whole sense of self and my own personal field were really impacted. It was almost as if I had meditated for a week or so in nature. You are really operating from an enhanced and much more open field around you, a sort of clearing, of Lichtung. That's when I first realized the impact, apart from all the intellectual stimulus, which was of course more tangible.

And you have been right at the center of this Dalai Lama circle. Could you comment on what that experience was like for you?

Arthur Zajonc: Well, first of all, your experience wasn't unique at all. I was struck by how many people like you came up afterward, people of accomplishment with experience in conferences and meetings. I could see they experienced the field that you are talking about, and it had nothing to do specifically with the content, although the content was quite interesting and they found it stimulating. There was something about the geometry of relationships, the way the whole gathering was held, the nature of the dialogue and exchange, which created an aura into which they moved. It wasn't just us on stage in the aura. The whole assembly moved into it. It was sustained for the full two days. The next week, I met with three or four people from the Amherst area and later with a larger group, and it was still echoing in those who attended. It took a couple of weeks for it to actually settle out. But, the aura is residual. For a couple of weeks, this was just simply a part of people's field.

That was an unusual phenomenon. I have been to other gatherings that had a similar effect. One was a three day vigil and memorial for a young person's death. For days afterwards, where the vigil and other events took place, the experience was like a waterscape, because the space was all alive and you felt it in the landscape itself.

So there are crossings and mergings that take place. Thresholds are crossed in those situations and this should I think be noticed, be honored. You could ask why it happens. What caused it? It would be very un-Goethean to look for the mechanical cause, to ask what the essential conditions of appearance were.

COS: And what did happen?

Arthur Zajonc: It's a very difficult thing to pin down. I've worked now with the Dalai Lama on several occasions and moderated or led conversations at four of them, if you count the MIT event. My general experience has been that in working with him, with the Buddhist scholars, and a good group of scientists, something of this nature happens to some degree.

Part of the formula is that, first of all, the Dalai Lama has his own presence. It's unusual in a certain way, because he's a very normal kind of guy. He doesn't come across immediately as having a larger field than a normal person.

COS: True.

Arthur Zajonc: But his field is a kind of indirection. It's not projection. It's actually an indirection, a kind of self-negation. Just being who he is, being very understated and very modern in that sense. His presence works much more from the periphery. The participants, if they're chosen reasonably well -and they are not necessarily Buddhists (in fact, most of the scientists who show up have no Buddhist connections) - bring the part of them that is their largest and most humane dimension with them. They don't factor it out and leave it at the door as often happens in the academy. They bring it into the conversation with him. They bring heartfelt questions and problems, even if they're framed in very small, scientific terminologies. Something of that deeper set of commitments and longings are there with them. It's a bit like when I was 19 or 20 and going through my existential crisis. I refused to factor out the cultural and existential questions. I wanted to bring them with me into my life of science. I believe they all want to do that, but they haven't been able to.

Now they're with him, they have traveled to India perhaps, because they want to bring their commitments and longings as well as their science to him and so they bring it to the whole gathering. So his modest presence does provide a singular opportunity for people to bring all of who they are into the space.

Second, they discover that when the Buddhists speak, they speak with such brilliance and such intelligence that their hopes aren't dashed. A lot of times in similar settings, you bring your hopes and you get religious dogma. You want to come as a scientist with all your intelligence and all your inarticulate longings and be met on the other side. You long to be met by intelligence concerning the existential questions that you really aren't able to deal with too well. But what you get are pieties. Simple statements about what you should do and shouldn't do with your life. Then you think, "Oh, who needs this? Let's get back to where I was. At least I was doing an honest day's work as a scientist. I'm not going to go and jump off a cliff or buy into something. Let the others do that."

But you discover with the Buddhist scholars and the Dalai Lama that you don't get pieties. The response you get is the fruit of thousands of years, literally 2,000 years, of contemplative practice and intellectual effort, with lots of sophistication. All the big issues are present in their treatment of mind or ethics, together with a nuanced discussion of consciousness. So s a kind of joy starts to creep in that sometimes becomes almost intoxicating in the small group discussions. You'll start to experience the way the Buddhists are handling the question, the way the Dalai Lama is chiming in, the way the scientists are performing right at the top of their level. They're asking all the hardest questions of themselves and everyone is willing to be vulnerable. The Buddhists are not taking advantage of the scientist's vulnerability. They're speaking right into it with their most precious thoughts and their own questions. You think, "This is research. This is research at the highest possible human level. This is what we're designed to do, not just think clever thoughts, but deep thoughts, large thoughts, and compassionate thoughts, to act compassionately, and be good to one another. And have fun while we're doing it."

I recall one such moment vividly. It was after two days of meetings in 2002, at the end of an afternoon session in Dharmasala. The Dalai Lama got up, thanked everybody, and left the room. I looked around. Everybody was standing, of course. They all looked at me and went, "Wow." The whole afternoon had lifted off. Everybody in the room felt so alive. You really felt that this is what we came to be and do, and it echoed for the whole evening.

Sometimes the sessions are a little more mundane. There's good quality material, things happen, but they expand to a certain point and then contract. But when you get two or three times like that in a meeting, you're really pleased. By the end, you feel that somehow or other a great wealth has been achieved where each person has brought his or her very best and contributed it, with great integrity, openness, and no dogma. Everybody is there to discover. We could all be wrong. We'll dare to say certain things normally not said. We're not pushing anything on the other. We offer our best with great open-mindedness, great hope, and affection.

As a moderator, what I've discovered is that, in order to create during a relatively short time a certain capacity for exchange and trust, I have to be willing, in the right measure and with the right words, to encourage people to dare to go further. They have to be willing, without prying or pushing beyond what's appropriate, to come back to the issue and to go further with it in the room. I ask people to go a little deeper, to be a little more open than they just were. You know in your mind, as a good moderator, who each of these people are. So you know the hidden cards they're not playing, the hidden things they long to say. But it's like standing guard over them. You honor their reticence, but you encourage them to go further. You have to open the door and say, "It's okay to say what I know you want to say, and it's okay for you to respond." I may know how the dialogue will go ahead of time, as the moderator. I could write it down for you. But I can't insert myself. What I can do is say to you, "Wouldn't you like to take what you said before a little further? I think that we could go further here and open up the question." And then I turn to the Dalai Lama, who may be reluctant, and say, "I know he's not going as far as he wants to go or could go. But, Your Holiness, we've just heard this and this. Couldn't the Buddhists say a little something more about this?" Then you can see him trying to decide whether he dares to do it or whether it'll be an affront or whether it'll be skillful means. Then, if you've judged correctly, he comes in. The others come back. And then you just feel that you've moved up another notch or two, and the whole room starts to become more dense and more alive. The field starts to become more energized.

So the moderator has to be constantly listening for opportunities to serve that other purpose, which is not my goal but the goal of the community. When it works and when you can then crystallize or summarize what has happened for people so that it all stays clear and lucid in front of them, then you are of service.

In terms of the group, the collective, and how to serve the collective, that's where I've had most of my experience. I've tried to play a positive role in the social groups I've been in. But I have not been a convener or an architect of those groups. The kinds of groups that I have been part of had an intellectual or a thematic agenda, like the Dalai Lama or the Mind & Life conferences, or there has been a project agenda, where I and others want to create a new institution or take on an important task.

XXII. Other Centered Leadership

In such cases I think the same kinds of laws apply, namely that you have to recognize the Other. I think, frankly, that the old form of "I have a big idea; I'm going to go out and make that idea happen; it's basically my ego in the world," and it is totally uninteresting.

Very good friends of mine ask me what I want to do. They say, "You should have something you want to make happen in the world." For a long time, I was very embarrassed, because I felt I should have something, you know? Then at a certain point, I said, "Listen, I don't have anything. There's nothing I want to make happen." So how is it I am so busy making things happen? Mostly I'm in a situation where I say, "My god, this is ridiculous. This is tragic; this can't be this way. There has to be a different way." Or you're talking with others and they agree with your perception. Three or four of you are together and say, "Well, let's make it different." It's not like you come with the goal. It's a perception of a reality. And who's going to do this? You look at yourself and say, "Well, I'm the person here. This is not really what I had in mind. But nobody else is doing this." There's a reluctance, and usually somebody else says to you, "This is really something you should help out with." Then you enroll.

I think there's a kind of rightness about this ethic-of people seeing other people. Leadership, for me, is just this. For some reason you are given the task of identifying capacities in others. In other words, when I've been put in leadership positions, it was not about me doing anything. It was about me looking around and saying, for example, "Oh, Joan. This is really for her. And this is really for him." And then not just making it happen over their dead bodies, but recognizing, out of the circle of acquaintances that you have, that these are the right people therefore the task. Or, let's say you have a kind of person in mind, but there is no such person in your circle. You recognize you need a certain kind of person and you know that person is out there somewhere. If you hold the image long enough, they will show up.

So you create the picture; you hold it, and over the course of a year or two, that person steps into your life, and you recognize him or her. You feel them out a little bit, the acquaintanceship builds up, and then you spring on them what you have in mind. If you've been a good judge, they light up. Because they know that much in their life has been a preparation for this conversation.

The picture I have is something like this: The problems of the world are not put there as insoluble, overwhelming problems. The world is not there to defeat us. I'm not a pessimist in that way. All of the means are there to handle any situation we need to, no matter how dire. The good gods have pre-positioned all the resources we need already, like military strategists the resources are already in place, and these resources are in people.

The leader is a person who has the possibility through destiny to know the people, to recognize their capacities, and to bring them to bear on the problem. That requires, I think, a certain selflessness, because it's not me who's solving the problem.

But the problem is that often we don't really get to know each other. So the leader is a person who has the possibility through destiny to know the people, to recognize their capacities, and to bring them to bear on the problem. That requires, I think, a certain selflessness, because it's not me who's solving the problem. It's not me who's making it go away. As soon as I recognize the person, I give them whatever resources are needed, whatever I have at my disposal is offered for as long as is necessary. I give them encouragement, counsel, active support, and then I go into the background. It's their success. It has nothing to do with me.

The great thing is the letting-go part. You're on to the next thing. You redirect yourself. Then you have to hold the next picture or task. You don't know who will be connected to it. You're just holding the picture. The person shows up, but it's not who you thought it was likely to be. You have to be open to that. You try it out. You give them support, and then you're off to the next thing.

At least, that's one form of leadership. I'm not sure if it's the only form, because some people get hold of something and do it their whole lives. But that hasn't been my style. In groups, I work with multiple individuals and many initiatives at once. Usually none of them has much to do with me, with my grand plan; I don't have a grand plan. It's more a perception of needs in the world and of the individuals who can be put together with those needs.

I've been part of many Dalai Lama events. I'm on the board of directors and the scientific board of the Mind and Life Institute. Part of the genius of the events has been steadfastness over 18 years of history and faithfulness. It was near collapse two years ago. When Cisco [Francisco Varela] died, Adam Engle (the president) didn't see how to go forward. Through talking with many of his close friends, the right ideas and the courage came into the group, and he went on without Francisco, finding a slightly different way of proceeding. I think Cisco would be pleased. But it's taken on a different form. I think that ripeness was there. We've done it so many times and knew our roles so well. We had built up a trust.

The remarkable thing is the level of commitment his illness put into it. When we were Dharamsala in 2002, Cisco had already died, and His Holiness spoke about his loss.

Then he spoke about the work that we were doing and how it really wasn't about any of us. It wasn't that he didn't care for each individual, honor them, and love them in his own way. Still it wasn't a personal thing. The Dalai Lama wasn't meeting scientists merely out of personal curiosity. He was interested in many of the scientific discoveries we discussed, but before long, it was clear this was something that had larger significance, both for the Buddhist community and, I think he believes also, for the West. He doesn't want to say that, but I'll certainly say it.

So his level of commitment has increased over the years to the point where it is one of the three main focuses of what he's doing. He's working for an autonomous province in Tibet. He's teaching his monks. And he's meeting with science groups. He said to us that he will continue until he can't do it anymore, and then it should go on after him. It will go on differently after he dies, or after he's incapacitated, but he feels our explorations should go on.

So an earnestness and quality of commitment have grown into the whole movement and this has been a real blessing. The core group is pretty committed and quite diverse. They're not all Buddhists but we are committed to seeing the dialogue take place.

XXIII. This is it!

But, to me, the conferences, Goethe, and Steiner all share a common theme. It is the relationship between knowledge and love. The thing I was missing when I was 19 and 20 was the other axis, the love axis. From it all culture arises. What are those great monuments? They're not monuments to knowing, but rather to communities of aspiration and, ultimately, of love and creation. When we're in those fabulous dialogues in the Mind & Life meetings, we're learning a lot from each other. But what's animating the meeting is ultimately the compassion and love that we extend to each other in those meetings.

Knowledge and love aren't supposed to go together in a conventional world. They're supposed to be two parts of the world that are kept separate. The geometry of our gatherings belies this view and confounds it. It says, "No, we're going to do both of these right here on this stage. And you're going to be invited in, and we're all going to experience it together." Then it starts to unfold. You're just caught up in the lucidity, the clarity, the light, and the love. If the discussion is only clear and intellectually brilliant, you'd appreciate it and you'd applaud. But when you feel what's happening back and forth, you realize something more is happening here. It's not sentimental, but at the same time, it's filled with sentiment, in the highest sense of the word.

So it's a mystery. You can't program it. In that sense, it's not a causal mechanism. It's a way of being with each other. It's a way of opening the heart to another, being vulnerable and being open. Many of the people in our meetings have been colleagues or friends for 10 years or 15 years. Alan Wallace and I used to sit just like this in these chairs. For nearly four years, we sat and talked like this, every week. I knew at one point during those conversations that I would be with him and the Dalai Lama together. I never said anything about it. I just knew that somehow that was going to happen.

COS: When was that?

Arthur Zajonc: About 12 years ago.

COS: So you met with him every week?

Arthur Zajonc: Yeah, you could say he was my student. I mean, I was also his student. We're almost the same age. He'd done the equivalent of a full Ph.D., advanced studies in Tibetan Buddhism while a monk in India and Switzerland. I'd done my study and research over here. When we met we held our own Mind & Life dialogue for three and a half years.

And then we get to do it together with others. You know, there were times in some of my meetings when I thought that this is what spiritual science really is. I'm now in the midst of a spiritual, scientific research community. Every question can be asked. Every tool can be used, contemplative tools, external scientific tools, the latest things from all sides. It's all directed toward human betterment and compassionate action, reducing suffering and making this world a truly great place. And we're doing it with joy and celebrating each other's capacity. This is how we should be at every university. Our universities are so remarkable. We put so much of our resources into creating the place where students can come for four to eight, nine, ten years of study and research, and it's all for them. All those resources. Forget the disciplinary turf warfare! Do it this way, the way we did at MIT or in Dharamsala. It doesn't mean you have to agree with one another; just rejoice in the dialogue itself, and sometime it all comes together. Sometimes it happens.

XXIV. Developing the Selfless Self

COS: I wonder whether you have any advice about how to develop the capacity of the selfless self that creates the space for others to flourish and tap into their true purpose.

Arthur Zajonc: Well, I had an experience this last weekend. I was in a meeting with a group at a science museum, eight or ten of us. They wanted to get some input from me about developing an interdisciplinary program that they had in mind. I'm bringing this up because we started at the other end, quite far away from the quality of consciousness we have spoken about and the field energy as you term it. It was a totally conventional kickoff.

The people were bright and fast thinkers. It was very much a kind of popcorn meeting. You know, pop, this idea! Pop, that idea! We could do this! We could do that! Boom, boom, boom. And there was no presence. In fact there was a negative presence.

What could I do? I could pop ideas, but we'll get nowhere. Part of it is not getting caught up in the popcorn and in just being smarter than the next person. It's the wrong tempo. You can't bring the quality of awareness and consciousness that's required. There are times to be fast and do popcorn. But there are other times where you have to stop, center, ask the essential question, and then ask the second essential question. Get everybody together on the first one. Get everybody together on the second one. Create a kind of open space of common perception. Okay, we all agree that this is at the core. You agree, and so-and-so adds a little something. Now there's the presence. What about the next step? These are the defining parameters. What's the content you want? Not 26 things that you threw out. What's the core concern? What's the core? Okay, that's the core element.

Now you start to feel something starting to move in the space. You can just feel the shift in the energy. It all moves down from people associating to a sense of breathing. Everyone's breathing.

Then the marvelous starts to unfold. Someone makes a contribution. I make a contribution. I bring in an example. There's a way it's heard. Then, there's time to hear each other, to listen. A little pause. The danger is that the popcorn will get started again. You have to put the popcorn back in the bag.

There is an awareness you need, which is not just content-oriented or about the ideas coming forward, but about the quality of the ideas, the quality of the meeting itself, and the energy in the room. Whether it's going to serve or not serve. Then you find the skillful means to insert yourself.

In this kind of situation, you have to get the floor. If you've got eight or ten people who are all trying to get their popcorn going first and their next kernel in, it's very hard to get even your hand in. But you've got to somehow capture the floor and have enough inward presence of your own that you can project, move that into the space, ask the essential question, and not get distracted with any of the nonessential things. Ask the essential question. Hold on; get in the second question. Open it out and maybe involve one or two people who have been quiet. Bring in the right energy. Then the whole thing shifts and you can feel it. The session takes on a very different quality. I think we ended up with a very good meeting with some good ideas.

I've developed a couple of little practices. I'll be in a board meeting where the energy is tough and maybe I'm up against some hot issue. I don't know how to deal with it. There's a tendency to deal with it superficially and from a pattern of what I've done in the past. I find myself in those times letting go. It's a practice of saying, "Okay, we've had full, bloodied attention on this thing. We've really turned over a lot of stuff." Then I kind of sit back and expand in non-focal awareness. Empty out.

Sometimes I even pretend there's an invisible person next to me. When I was with the Waldorf school, sometimes I would imagine invisible children at the table. I was actually working for these children who were not yet born or were not yet there. They were my reason for being there.

It isn't just visible people at the table; the future is also at the table. I'll say to myself, "Okay, I want to hear what you who are invisible have to say. I want to listen into that space." Not to the visible, not to the space of the present, but the space of the future, the space of the invisible. If you're simply open and quiet with such a picture, things start to come in, first, a little bit inarticulately, but you get a presentiment that something's emerging. Then something new will come. If you speak concretely out of that space, and if you're with a good group of people, they hear it as if it's spoken from a different space. That's my experience. They shift their attention; they redirect.

They can tell when you're speaking out of your conventional consciousness. And they can tell, by the feel of it, when something unusual has happened. They're picking up what it is in your voice.

COS: The field.

Arthur Zajonc: The field switched. Right, and then they go, "Oh-h-h." And you can feel them all move their field into yours.

Then there's a wonderful creative moment when everyone recognizes this is a special moment. Let's hold onto this. Let's let this play out. Bring it gently down to Earth and make it practical, because it starts out a little bit large and diffuse. But it's like an infant. We've got to bring it down slowly. Then there's the excitement of seeing something new in the room and implementing it. You're practical people; you want to make it happen somehow.

So those moments give a lot of positive energy to a group. There's a feeling of originality, can-do, and collaboration. Nobody takes ownership, because the idea could have come from somebody else across the table. But emptying out, emptiness, and working with the invisible have become part of what I do when I'm working with groups.

Thank you for coming. I don't know what you're to make out of all of this, but it's been fun talking with you.

COS: Thank you so much for this conversation.

ENDNOTES.

1. Zajonc, Arthur and Greenstein, George. 1977. The Quantum Challenge: Modern Research and the Foundation of Quantum Mechanics. Sudbury, MA: Jones and Bartlett