Mr. Iyer:Exactly right. [laughs] I stayed for a week, by which time I found a temple in Kyoto is very different from what I’d imagined in midtown Manhattan. But I did move then to a single room on the back streets of Kyoto without even a toilet or a telephone or a bed.
Ms. Tippett:All right, then. You’re absolved. [laughs] Tell me what you learned about time. And perhaps this is still true, because you spend most of your life in Japan now. I’m so intrigued because I think time is just such a fascinating concept, and it has all this resonance both in science and in mysticism.
Mr. Iyer:Yes, and I think we all know that sensation. We have more and more time-saving devices but less and less time, it seems to us. When I was a boy, the sense of luxury had to do with a lot of space, maybe having a big house or a huge car. Now I think luxury has to do with having a lot of time. The ultimate luxury now might be just a blank space in the calendar. And interestingly enough, that’s what we crave, I think, so many of us.
When I moved from New York City to rural Japan — after my year in Kyoto, I essentially moved to a two-room apartment, which is where I still live with my wife and, formerly, our two kids. We don’t have a car or a bicycle or a T.V. I can understand. It’s very simple, but it feels very luxurious. One reason is that when I wake up, it seems as if the whole day stretches in front of me like an enormous meadow, which is never a sensation I had when I was in go-go New York City. I can spend five hours at my desk. And then I can take a walk. And then I can spend one hour reading a book where, as I read, I can feel myself getting deeper and more attentive and more nuanced. It’s like a wonderful conversation.
Then I have a chance to take another walk around the neighborhood and take care of my emails and keep my bosses at bay and then go and play ping pong and then spend the evening with my wife. It seems as if the day has a thousand hours, and that’s exactly what I tend not to experience or feel when I’m — for example, today in Los Angeles — moving from place to place. I suppose it’s a trade-off. I gave up financial security, and I gave up the excitements of the big city. But I thought it was worth it in order to have two things, freedom and time. The biggest luxury I enjoy when I’m in Japan is, as soon as I arrive there, I take off my watch, and I feel I never need to put it on again. I can soon begin to tell the time by how the light is slanting off our walls at sunrise and when the darkness falls — and I suppose back to a more essential human life.
Ms. Tippett:That’s about the life you’ve crafted, rather than something in Japanese culture, right?
Mr. Iyer:It is, but of course, when I left New York City, I could have gone anywhere. As a writer, I’m lucky; I could do my job anywhere. I think one reason I went to Japan — it goes back to what you were asking about the institutes of higher skepticism — is that my education had taught me quite well to talk, but I don’t think it had taught me to listen. My schools had taught me quite well to push myself forward in the world, but it never taught me to erase myself. The virtues of when I got to Japan, finding that I was essentially an illiterate — to this day, I can’t read or write Japanese. I’m at the mercy of things around me. I can’t have the illusion that I’m on top of things. Japan was a place that I had a huge amount to learn from, and I’m still learning it.
Ms. Tippett:You’ve talked about that we are rediscovering — I really love this phrase — the “urgency of slowing down.” That’s wonderful.
Mr. Iyer:Thank you. Well, I think we’re all feeling dizzy. We got onto this accelerating roller coaster that we never quite asked to get on, and we don’t know how to get off. My keenest sense is that our devices are not going to go away, nor would we want them to. They’ve made our lives so much brighter and healthier and longer. But it’s a safe bet that they’re only going to accelerate and proliferate. We’re really going to have to take emergency measures just to keep ourselves in proportion and in balance. I sometimes think that travel is how I get my excitement and stimulation, but stillness is how I keep myself sane. Pascal, wonderfully, in the 17th century, said, our problem is distraction. But we try to distract ourselves from distractions, so we get even worse in this vicious cycle.
So the only cure for distraction is attention. I go to my monastery and I go to Japan because they are cathedrals of attention. They’re places where people are very attentive and where people like me can try to learn attention.
Ms. Tippett:I couldn’t help wondering as I’m reading you and reading about the life you’ve crafted, you really have chosen a simplicity that — I think you even use the word “luxurious.” You talk about being with Leonard Cohen, and he uses the word “luxurious” — and in such a contrast to the you at 29, living the American dream. But I couldn’t help wondering how much of what you’ve been able to choose and create also is about the wisdom that comes just with growing older, with age, that stillness becomes more natural and more enjoyable somehow, I think, inherently. I’m not sure everyone leans into that. In fact, I know they don’t.
I was reading recently that there’s some new study that when we’re young, we’re hardwired to find excitement and to find satisfaction in novelty, and that as we age, we more naturally find excitement and satisfaction in what is ordinary, in patterns and habits and the everyday contours of our lives. It helps me think about why wisdom comes with age, why an elder becomes an elder because what becomes more natural is really getting at the deepest insights of spiritual traditions.
Mr. Iyer:Yes. I was just saying to somebody yesterday that, at some point — I’m only, I think, a couple of years older than you — I noticed that I was getting so much more satisfaction from visiting my old friends than looking around for new friends; and rereading the books I’ve always loved, which each time were giving me new and new things rather than trying to find the latest good book; and revisiting the places with which I have a relationship over 30 or 50 years. Instantly you don’t have to explain yourself. You’re doing without the excitement of novelty, but you’re into a much deeper and more intimate encounter. You’re right that soon that becomes much more sustaining than just getting the new. Of course, the older you get, the harder it is to be confronted with something new, which is why, probably, time accelerates, and it seems like the years are whizzing by like the calendar pages in one of those old movies.
I think the other thing that I suppose I learned from Leonard Cohen was, when I met him, he was living for a monk for five years in the cold, dark mountains behind Los Angeles, and he said, as you mentioned, that sitting still and looking after other people and scrubbing floors was a great voluptuous excitement of life, even though he’d enjoyed all the pleasures of the world. But the second part of that process, which maybe is even more important, is, again, he came back into the world. He’s toured the world in his 70s for six years and became one of the most popular musicians on the planet. I think the reason he became popular was that people could tell he was coming down from the mountain, in a way. In other words, he was bringing wisdom and depth and selflessness to the concert stage, just where we don’t usually see it. And I think, even if they couldn’t articulate it, people felt that they were getting something of the stillness and pointedness of the monastery from him, not just another kind of agenda or somebody trying to sell something.
[music: “Cyclone” by MONO]
Ms. Tippett:I’m Krista Tippett, and this is On Being. Today, exploring the “art of stillness” with writer Pico Iyer.
Ms. Tippett:We’re winding down towards the end, but I do want to ask you about mysticism. I want to read something you wrote. It intrigued me: “Mysticism, to me, is what stands out of time and beyond circumstance. Read a 13th-century Zen discourse, pick up St. John of the cross, and listen to the latest Leonard Cohen album, and you are instantly in the same place. Mysticism is almost the unchanging backbeat and backstage truth that stands behind all the changing surfaces and shifts in the world.”
Mr. Iyer:My heavens, I actually like that. [laughs] I still believe it.
Ms. Tippett:[laughs] Does mysticism have a different role or a new role or an expansive role in a globalized world, in the 21st-century world?
Mr. Iyer:I think in an accelerated world it does, because I think we need, more than ever, to root ourselves in what is out of time and larger than us and not contained in the latest CNN update. It’s wonderful to know what happened two seconds ago at the Grammys or, even more important, in Iraq. But we can’t begin to make sense of it unless we have a larger, more spacious canvas on which to put it. In that sense, it’s funny — when you just read that description of mysticism, it sounds exactly like my description of my hermitage. I think I was probably using those as almost interchangeable terms there. But if mysticism is a word for that place where we are deeper and wiser than ourselves, or at least can listen to something inside ourselves that seems much larger than we are, we certainly need that more than ever because I would imagine in the 19th century, say, when there are far fewer obvious diversions, maybe it’s a romantic notion, but I imagine people being able to hear the better part of themselves a little more often.
It’s hard to hear in the clamor of the contemporary, and I notice people more and more talk about cutting through the noise. That’s what we really need to do. I suppose mysticism is a way of cutting through the cacophony of the moment and reminding us of what is real and then reminding us of how to respond to the real and to do justice to it.
Maybe that speaks to the other part of your question, which is the beauty of mysticism is it’s the place where distinctions dissolve and where there’s no you and me, there’s no east and west, there’s no old or new. We’re in the place beyond dualisms and beyond the tricks of the mind, really, to go back to your point about being an intellectual. We are in that space where we’re not outside the world making judgments and distinctions. We are in some truth, which we don’t even have to name, but it’s the place where all those great traditions converge. So if Rumi and John of the Cross and Meister Eckhart and DÅgen, the great Zen teacher, were to talk together, each might talk in the language and in the framework of his particular tradition, but what they’d be talking about is something each of them would recognize as his most intimate reality.
Ms. Tippett:And none of their words would reach quite far enough, right?
Mr. Iyer:Exactly. Mysticism is the place where all words, explanations run out.
Ms. Tippett:I rarely see you speaking of God, and I really feel like what you just said is so eloquent. And, certainly, God is one of those realities we can only point at with words. I don’t know, do you have a sense of God, or is that language you avoid, or is it just that I haven’t seen it?
Mr. Iyer:You’re right. It is language I avoid. I remember, as a little boy, whenever I saw something in capital letters, something in me would recoil. But oddly enough, somebody two weeks ago suddenly, out of nowhere, asked me, “What is God?” And I said, “Reality.”
I think that has many ramifications. But usually, what I would say is that I would certainly use the word the divine as you and I have used earlier in this discussion. I think we all have something changeless and vast and completely unfathomable inside us. I’m very happy if a Christian calls that God and if a Muslim calls that Allah and if a Buddhist calls that reality or something else. Again, I don’t think that the names matter so much, but the truth is very, very important, and I think that’s the fundamental truth that we can’t afford to lose sight of.
When you talked earlier on about my seeking out spiritual places and people, I suppose it’s because at a very early age I noticed that I didn’t have one fixed religion myself, that people who did have a religious commitment seemed to be acting with such kindness and such selflessness and such clarity that I thought, these are people I want to learn from. What I was learning from them was that they were listening to God and, even more importantly sometimes, obeying God, and obeying God when God is asking them impossible things. But still, they knew that that was where their commitment lay. I can’t begin to say how much appreciation and admiration I have for those who have made God the center of their lives, or in the case of the Dalai Lama, he might say reality is the center of his life, but it’s a variation on the same thing.
Ms. Tippett:You do lead this very simple life, but you write books that people read. A couple of times in recent years, you’ve had pieces in the The New York Times, and there’s one you wrote a couple of years ago, maybe while you were writing your book on stillness. Was it called “The Joy of Quiet”? Is that right?
Mr. Iyer:Yes.
Ms. Tippett:You ended with — you were at your monastery, your secret home, as you say, in California, I believe. You talked about — out walking, speaking to someone who works at MTV, brings his young children there, so he’s introducing them to the joy of quiet. You had a line that just stayed with me at the end. You wrote, “The child of tomorrow, I realized, may actually be ahead of us in terms of sensing not what’s new, but what’s essential.” I just wanted to read that back to you. It’s very beautiful.
Mr. Iyer:Well, thank you for such a high compliment. The reason I ended that piece with that sentence was I’d begun the piece by describing how I was going to a conference in Singapore with the title “Marketing to the Child of Tomorrow.” So that piece is really moving from the profane to the sacred, or moving from the heart of the world, where the child of tomorrow is seen in the same sentence as marketing, to what is really going to support the child of tomorrow, which is far from the marketplace and is something more akin to stillness. In fact, I wonderfully had an editor at The New York Times who would throw these things at me and who also commissioned the TED book a couple of years ago. Out of the blue, though we had never met, she said, “Why don’t you write a piece on silence?” Then she said, “Why don’t you write a piece on anxiety?” And, “Why don’t you write a piece on suffering?” I was so glad to have the chance to talk about those things. And, as you said, I was pleasantly surprised that The New York Times would want to feature those prominently in the newspaper as the corrective to the moment.
Ms. Tippett:I do want to ask you this large question. As you have lived this life you’ve lived, how has your sense evolved of this great animating question behind our spiritual traditions but also this universal human question: What does it mean to be human?
Mr. Iyer:I think to be human really means to be connected. I’m a rather solitary soul, and I’ve talked a lot about stillness and silence, but I think that they are just way stations. They are refueling places. It’s funny, when we go to an airport nowadays, there’s so many recharging stations for devices and very few for our soul.
Ms. Tippett:Right. [laughs] All of a sudden there are all these recharging stations.
Mr. Iyer:All of a sudden. And we quickly realize it’s only when we recharge our soul, we can make better use of our devices. Part of my concern about the digital age is that the beauty of it is we can make contact with people on the far corners of the earth. The challenge is we sometimes lose contact with ourselves, especially our deeper selves. And then we’re tempted more to define ourselves in terms of what doesn’t matter and what is not going to last very long, whether it’s our looks, our finances, or our resume. And I don’t think anyone gets the richer if he or she defines herself in those terms. So I think to be human is to try to find the best part of yourself that is, in fact, beyond yourself, much wiser than you are, and have that to share with everyone you care for.
[music: “Dilate” by Wes Swing]
Ms. Tippett:Pico Iyer is the author of over a dozen books including The Open Road: The Global Journey of the Fourteenth Dalai Lama, and The Art of Stillness: Adventures in Going Nowhere. He’s currently at work on two new books for 2019: Autumn Light and A Beginner’s Guide to Japan.
[music: “Akiko” by Guitar]
Staff:On Being is Chris Heagle, Lily Percy, Mariah Helgeson, Maia Tarrell, Marie Sambilay, Erinn Farrell, Laurén Dørdal, Tony Liu, Bethany Iverson, Erin Colasacco, Kristin Lin, Profit Idowu, Casper ter Kuile, Angie Thurston, Sue Phillips, Eddie Gonzalez, Lilian Vo, Lucas Johnson, Damon Lee, Suzette Burley, Katie Gordon, and Zack Rose.
Ms. Tippett: Our lovely theme music is provided and composed by Zoë Keating. And the last voice that you hear singing our final credits in each show is hip-hop artist Lizzo.
On Being was created at American Public Media. Our funding partners include:
The John Templeton Foundation. Supporting academic research and civil dialogue on the deepest and most perplexing questions facing humankind: Who are we? Why are we here? And where are we going? To learn more, visit templeton.org.
The Fetzer Institute, helping to build the spiritual foundation for a loving world. Find them at fetzer.org.
Kalliopeia Foundation, working to create a future where universal spiritual values form the foundation of how we care for our common home.
Humanity United, advancing human dignity at home and around the world. Find out more at humanityunited.org, part of the Omidyar Group.
The Henry Luce Foundation, in support of Public Theology Reimagined.
The Osprey Foundation — a catalyst for empowered, healthy, and fulfilled lives
And the Lilly Endowment, an Indianapolis-based, private family foundation dedicated to its founders’ interests in religion, community development, and education.
COMMUNITY REFLECTIONS
SHARE YOUR REFLECTION
3 PAST RESPONSES
We need to Be Mindful of the Impact of Travel on Our Planet ♡ It Contributes to climate change and the 6th mass extinction. All Worlds Are Within Us. And there is Always work to do right Here, right Now, where we Are. Starting with Creating a planet of True Equality and Unity. A planet where the children of All species are put First. A planet that has eliminated preventable child mortality, eliminated pollution and wasted resource, eliminated the -isms and generational trauma that plague us. We Need to See and Honor the Spiritual as the Seed of the physical. A Shift in Mindset. #ConsciousProCreation #OneBeing #OnePlanet #United
We need to Be Mindful of the Impact of Travel on Our Planet ♡ It Contributes to climate change and the 6th mass extinction. All Worlds Are Within Us. And there is Always work to do right Here, right Now, where we Are. Starting with Creating a planet of True Equality and Unity. A planet where the children of All species are put First. A planet that has eliminated preventable child mortality, eliminated pollution and wasted resource, eliminated the -isms and generational trauma that plague us. We Need to See and Honor the Spiritual as the Seed of the physical. A Shift in Mindset. #ConsciousProCreation #OneBeing #OnePlanet #United
Pico Iyer is on a Grand Journey indeed! I trust he will find his way Home eventually. I suspect Benedictine hospitality is part of the finding? }:- ❤️