In conjunction with my old age “serenity project,” I have been working more diligently on my meditation, trying to get to a “one-pointed” concentration.  I am actually very disciplined about meditation – an hour in the morning and another forty-five minutes in the afternoon, but “showing up” does not always mean progress.  To meditate, one can start by focusing on almost anything – your breath, the sound of the birds, bodily sensations – but the key is to limit intrusions of memories, worries, plans – and this is a challenge for me.  T. S. Eliot reminds us that it is the “still point of the turning earth,” where “the dance is.” This sounds surprisingly similar to what the Taoists say about a “single-pointed” mind: “A mind that is clearly focused, however, receives all things and can abide in utter tranquility. It is no exaggeration to say that its world revolves around it.”   If we could only get our minds down to that one, still point.

Pinhole cameras are a good metaphor for one-pointedness.  Such cameras were widely used in the 19^th century, but even before that, artists used pinhole mechanisms to reflect subjects and scenes onto paper for tracing.  The principle is the same as that of a camera obscura, in which a pinhole lets in a sliver of light which opens into an upside-down image of whatever it is pointed at.  A few years ago I visited one of the world’s oldest camera obscuras in a windmill in Dumphries, Scotland.  That camera projects inverted images of the whole city in a darkened room and has been in continuous operation since 1836.

For our metaphor, it is relevant that the images from a pinhole are upside down.  In old age, aren’t we looking at life from an upside-down and backward position?  We are remembering  more than planning, we are trying to distill sense out of what has already happened rather than struggling to make things happen. To do this, we need to get down to that single point, and after a lifetime of striving to multi-task, this is not easy.

For pinhole cameras or camera obscuras, the smaller the pinhole, the sharper the image.  And so it seems to be with concentration.  To really look at life, we need to narrow our gaze steadily until things come into focus, to be prepared to look at things from a whole different perspective.  Upside down and backwards.

Here’s a secret that I discovered about meditation, from Ayya Khema via Leigh Brasington.  One-pointedness will not only result in better concentration, but if the “pinhole” is small enough, one may enter the first jhana.  This state includes a kind of physical and mental rapture or pīti. The fact that our body gives us this pleasing sensation in exchange for finally centering our mind is proof enough that there is much to be gained by making our attention a steady lens on one particular thing.  Such are the rewards of focusing.  When I first encountered pīti, I described it as the tingling sensation after sneezing – but stronger.  Others have compared it to a runner’s high.

The purpose of the first jhana is not the bliss, though. Bliss is just the carrot. The purpose is to focus and steady the mind in preparation for insight, to eventually understand one’s own mind, to glimpse… nirvana.  There is a whole series of jhanas, which become more abstract, but knowing about the first one is enough to realize that any serenity project must begin with steering the mind to single-pointedness.  And if you’ve ever tried this, you’ll know that your mind doesn’t think that you are its master.  It’s hard.  How do we have any hope of avoiding the aggressive distractions of Capitalism 2.0 when we can’t even limit the distractions manufactured by our own minds?

My point is not that everyone needs to meditate.  But everyone does need a point from which to focus on their lives.  Euclid started his Elements with the definition of a point:  “that which has no part,” something without width, length, or breadth, but with an indivisible location.

When Spinoza (you didn’t think you would escape without a dose of Spinoza, did you?) constructed his philosophical system (based on the methodology of Euclid), he reasoned that he first had to find:

…some real good having power to communicate itself, which would affect the mind singly, to the exclusion of all else; whether, in fact, there might be anything of which the discovery and attainment would enable me to enjoy continuous, supreme and unending happiness.

Perhaps, almost anything we can concentrate on “singly” can be the start to Spinoza’s extravagant goals. If we are trying to make sense of life, come to terms with life, live with serenity – we need to identify a single point on which to build our understanding.  Though not easy, it is worthy of trial and consideration.  As Spinoza says at the end of his Ethics, “All things excellent are as difficult as they are rare.”

By the way, if you go to Dumphries for the camera obscura or any of a number of other good reasons, eat at Bruno’s.  You will not be disappointed.

You might also look at my short story “Nothing New” for an alternative way to help limit distractions and narrow the aperture into the mind.