The Good Place is an American comedy series about the after life. The basic plot is that an administrative error has sent Eleanor, a selfish “dirt bag” to the wrong place. She ends up in “the good place” instead of “the bad place”, with predictably hilarious results. She knows that she doesn’t belong there, but must do everything in her power to stay, if she wants to avoid an eternity of excruciating physical torture.

I can’t say too much about this series, which I highly recommend (it’s on Netflix), because anything I say will be a spoiler. However, I will introduce the other three main protagonists in the drama, who you get to meet in the first episode: Chidi, Tahani and Janu. On Earth, before they died, Chidi was an ethics philosophy professor, Tahani was a celebrity charity fund-raiser and Janu was a Buddhist monk who took a vow of silence when he was eight.

Eleanor, as I already mentioned, was a selfish dirt bag. However, she does seem to have some redeeming qualities. She is feisty and funny (and hot), and never gives up. She’s a fighter. So, as the story progresses, through a series of clever twists and turns, we find ourselves watching a drama of four archetypes: the warrior (Eleanor), the monk (Janu), the philosopher Chidi) and the queen (Tahani).

What is “the good place”? When do we feel that we are in a good place? Perhaps when we feel like a king or queen, a philosopher, a monk or a warrior. In other words, when we think we are in control. As soon as we realize we have no idea what’s going on, this illusion of mastery shatters and we wake up to the awful realization: we aren’t in “the good place” at all.

What if we pool resources? What if the warrior, monk, philosopher and queen band together like The Avengers or The A-Team? Together they are stronger. They complement each other. The strengths of one make up for the weaknesses of the others. And what if these archetypes represent the qualities of one person not four separate people? Then it’s not really about individuals teaming up, but about “subpersonalities” integrating in the psyche.

Either way, whether it’s about outer community or inner communion, what if that doesn’t work either? What if, periodically, all four of you realize that you are in “the bad place”? Why? What have you done wrong? What’s missing?

In the last chapter, I suggested that everywhere is a bad place when there is no genuine spiritual community, because you will inevitably fall back into a default community, of which I claimed there are only four kinds: a muggle community, a muppet community, an addict community and a victim community. In “the good place” you find warriors, monks (and nuns), philosophers and kings (and queens). In “the bad place” you find victims, addicts, muppets and muggles. They are the negatives or shadows of the positive archetypes.

So what distinguishes a spiritual community from these other communities? And why do the four positive archetypes keep ending up in “the bad place”? Why do they keep being exposed as their negative opposites? The queen a muggle, the philosopher a muppet, the monk an addict and the warrior a victim?

We find one possible answer in Christopher Marlowe’s “Dr. Faustus”, in the revealing answer Mephistopheles gives to Dr Faustus’ questioning about how it can be possible that a devil has escaped hell:

“Why, this is hell, nor am I out of it.
Think’st thou that I, who saw the face of God
And tasted the eternal joys of heaven,
Am not tormented with ten thousand hells
In being deprived of everlasting bliss?”

It should be obvious really, but in the modern world, it is such a forgotten truth, that it is almost a taboo. “The good place” is where God is and “the bad place” is where God isn’t. It’s as simple as that. Wherever you go, whatever you do, however clever and kind and good you think you are, you will always end up waking up to the fact that you are really in “the bad place” all along.

Unless you don’t wake up. You could live your life truly believing that you are in “the good place”. Maybe you are okay with being a victim, addict, muggle or muppet, or a bit of each, with a bit of warrior, monk, philosopher and king thrown in. Maybe “the bad place” isn’t so bad.

But if you do wake up, maybe once, maybe twice, maybe countless times, the truth will eventually dawn on you: there is no God but the true God, and there is no place like the real Good Place. Believe and you are there. Doubt and you are not. It really is as simple as that.

 

ANATTA, ANICCA, ABHAYA

ANATTA means “no-self”. When you say the word, bring the meaning to mind. Do not treat it as a negation or attack on your ego. Take it to refer to the conscious part of you that is not identified with anything. See if you can connect with a neutral space of pure awareness within you. We start with ANATTA, because if we do not consciously find a neutral space within, and disidentify from the forms of our ego, the rest of the meditation may be hijacked by one subpersonality or other and will lose its effectiveness.

ANICCA means “impermanence”. All things change. Nothing stays the same. Impermanence is a law of nature. We too are here for just a brief time, no longer than a “brief candle”. We must let go of the illusion of permanence, which is the central illusion of the ego. The ego is just a temporary psychological configuration, but it maintains itself in being through the illusion of permanence. It is a self-fulfilling belief. Because we believe our ego (which is just another word for “personality”) is permanent, we behave as if it were permanent and solid. When we remind ourselves of ANICCA, impermanence, we relax our hold and become more fluid and flexible. This is also a very important attitude at the start of a meditation, because it means we are open and sensitive to change, and not rigid, resistant or defensive.

ABHAYA means “fearlessness”. We must put on the fearlessness of a spiritual warrior as we enter into meditation. This is important to combat the fear that is at the heart of the ego. The ego is afraid for itself. It is afraid of death. Both ANATTA and ANICCA mean death for the ego. If we cannot overcome this fear, we will once again fall back in thrall to the ego. It welcomes us back with obsequiousness and cold comfort: “You did the right thing to give up. Well done. Stay here with me. You’re safe with me. We’ll look after each other. Don’t go out there again. It’s dangerous.” To break through the shell of the ego, we must be fearless even in the face of death.

KARUNA, KARUNA, KARUNA

KARUNA means “compassion”. Confronting the fear of the ego and fear of death, we encounter suffering. The spiritual journey is beset by hardship and struggle. We cannot avoid great suffering if we are to change and die to ourselves. We need the soothing balm of compassion. Compassion is not pity. It literally means “suffering with”: com passio. It is the willingness to share the suffering of another, and so help carry the load. We can arouse compassion for our own suffering as much as the suffering of another. We can also receive the compassion of an archetypal “divine being” such as Avalokitesvara, Isis or the Virgin Mary. Perhaps the most powerful visual depiction of compassion is that of the pieta, Mary weeping over the broken body of her son. Bringing this scene to mind cannot fail to arouse deep feelings of compassion in us, which we can then direct to our own sufferings “in Christ”.

DOSA NIRODHA, KARUNA

DOSA means “hate” or “aversion”. It is a negative psychological attitude of dislike, disgust, anger, rejection. NIRODHA means “cessation”. So when we say the words “DOSA NIRODHA”, we become aware of any unacknowledged negativity or resentment we might be carrying, and gently let it go. If it does not dissipate completely, we are content with lessening its energetic charge and so reducing its hold on us. We bring compassion to the suffering caused by DOSA, and the suffering that caused it. We bring compassion also to our inability to free ourselves of it completely. DOSA, if it does not arise in the heat of the moment, as when provoked by an adversary, is generally connected with past slights and resentments. It is the negative energy of our “unfinished business”.

TANHA NIRODHA, KARUNA

TANHA means “thirst” or “desire”. It is the opposite instinctual drive from DOSA, a pulling towards, rather than a pushing away. It encompasses all forms of craving, clinging, neediness, lust and desire. It includes spiritual desire as much as sexual desire or desire for fame and fortune. TANHA can be as distracting and destructive as DOSA. Psychological issues associated with DOSA are those around phobias and traumas, and anger management issues. Those associated with TANHA are addiction issues, substance abuse and obsessive compulsive disorders. By bringing the energetic charge of TANHA to awareness and consciously letting it go with compassion, we can begin to reduce its subliminal hold on our lives.

DUKKHA NIRODHA, KARUNA

DUKKHA means “suffering” or “unsatisfactoriness”. It was the recognition of the problem of DUKKHA as the tragic and inescapable fact of life that impelled Shakyamuni Buddha to strike out on his spiritual quest to find a solution to human suffering. The first of his Four Noble Truths is the self-evident existential truth, “there is dukkha”. DUKKHA is broader than physical pain or even psychological pain. It includes “having what you don’t want” (DOSA) as well as “not having what you want” (TANHA), but also, more subtly, “not having what you have” and “not wanting what you want”. In other words, being generally dissatisfied. Life just doesn’t seem to live up to the billing. Free even from the push and pull of DOSA and TANHA, things just don’t feel right. There is a subtle background malaise. The psychological issue here is depression. Where DOSA indicates an inability to let go of the negativity of the past, and TANHA indicates an inability to deal with the seductive lure of the future, DUKKHA indicates our inability to enjoy the present.

UPEKKHA, UPEKKHA, UPEKKHA

UPEKKHA means “equanimity”. Equanimity is a dispassionate philosophical attitude. Whatever comes our way is treated equally, without preference or deference. We resist the temptation to react negatively with DOSA or greedily with TANHA. We refuse to react with the dissatisfied indifference of DUKKHA. UPEKKHA is a state of poised equilibrium. It is a condition of spiritual fortitude in the face of the “slings and arrows of outrageous fortune” (Shakespeare), the capacity to “meet with Triumph and Disaster/ And treat those two imposters the same,” (Kipling). By arousing the quality of UPEKKHA, we complete and consolidate our withdrawal from hate, greed and suffering and turn to face any eventuality with strength and courage.

KARUNA, MUDITA, METTA

KARUNA means “compassion”. This is the golden thread that runs through the whole meditation. We bring the healing power of compassion to bear on all our psychological struggles and difficulties. The difference here is that we are now in a position of spiritual strength from which we can bring compassion to others. We bring to mind the suffering of sentient beings and send out healing compassion to all.

MUDITA means “sympathetic joy”. Here we share in the happiness and joy of others. It is the positive correlative of KARUNA. KARUNA and MUDITA can be seen as the psychological antidotes to DOSA and TANHA. When we encounter difficulty, pain and suffering, we don’t like it, so we instinctively react with aversion, DOSA. But we can bring compassion to alleviate the suffering. Thus compassion is the antidote to hate. When we encounter success, joy and happiness, we might react with envy, another form of DOSA, or with craving, TANHA. We like it and we want some of it. Or we can bring sympathetic joy to celebrate the success and happiness of the other without wanting a part of it. Thus MUDITA is the antidote to greed. It is like sharing in the achievement or pleasure of a young child. If they are enjoying a lollipop, it would be ridiculous to desire the lollipop, or we are no better that a young child ourselves. In KARUNA we “suffer with”; in MUDITA we “enjoy with”.

METTA means “love” or “loving kindness”. We send love and good will to all sentient beings, whether suffering, happy or indifferent. METTA is the antidote to hate, greed and suffering and blesses both the giver and receiver. Once we have made an inward clearing of our psychological ties to ego, permanence, fear, hate, greed, envy and suffering through self-compassion, we find that love arises and flows naturally and easily. Love is the crown of The Clearing Meditation.

One summer twenty years ago, by the river Isis in Oxford, I had a profound experience of “waking up” from my ordinary, habitual “me” consciousness into an extraordinary “non-dual” consciousness, where I felt completely at one with my surroundings and with the whole world. It felt as though I had stepped into a timeless realm, where one instant and ten thousand years were somehow the same and where one glance at a flower was more real and meaningful than my whole life up to that point. The experience only lasted for a few hours of clock time, but once back in the “ordinary” state, I knew that I would have no choice but to dedicate the rest of my life to finding my way back again. Thomas Traherne went there hundreds of years ago:

The corn was orient and immortal wheat, which never should be reaped nor was ever sown. I thought it had stood from everlasting to everlasting. The dust and the stones of the street were as precious as gold. The gates were at first the end of the world; the green trees when I saw them first through one of the gates transported and ravished me; their sweetness and unusual beauty made my heart to leap, and almost mad with ecstasy, they were such strange and wonderful things. … Eternity was manifest in the light of day, and something infinite behind everything appeared, which talked with my expectation and moved my desire. The city seemed to stand in Eden, or to be built in Heaven. 

Many others have been there too. For other first hand accounts of spiritual awakening, check out Richard Bucke’s Cosmic Consciousness: A Study in the Evolution of the Human Mind, William James’ The Varieties of Religious Experience, W.T. Stace’s Mysticism and Philosophy or Mysticism: A Study and an Anthology by F.C. Happold. Here is an account taken from The Varieties of Psychedelic Experience by Masters and Houston:

The subject, S-1 (LSD), a housewife in her early thirties, was taken by the guide for a walk in the little forest that lay just beyond her house. The following is her account of this occasion:

I felt I was there with God on the day of the Creation. Everything was so fresh and new. Every plant and tree and fern and bush had its own particular holiness. As I walked along the ground the smells of nature rose to greet me – sweeter and more sacred than any incense. Around me bees hummed and birds sang and crickets chirped a ravishing hymn to Creation. Between the trees I could see the sun sending down rays of warming benediction upon this Eden, this forest paradise. I continued to wander through this wood in a state of puzzled rapture, wondering how it could have been that I lived only a few steps from this place, walked in it several times a week, and yet had never really seen it before. I remembered having read in college Frazer’s Golden Bough in which one read of the sacred forests of the ancients. Here, just outside my door, was such a forest and I swore I would never be blind to its enchantment again.

 

Whether or not we profess a particular faith, most of us, deep down, assume that matter is inanimate. If we are religious, we are probably dualists, which means that we believe that there is a spiritual as well as a material reality, a soul as well as a body. But even so, the material side of our dual nature is still just material. So actually dualists are still materialists (although they are not monists).

Imagine you have access to an electron microscope. You train it on the tip of your little finger. As you increase the magnification, you see the skin cells, the cell membrane, the mitochondria, the nucleus, the proteins and peptides, perhaps actual atoms. You zoom in through the realms of biology, chemistry and physics, apparently passing from the living to the dead.

Now imagine that next to the electron microscope is a telescope. You look through the aperture and zoom out past the few straggling clouds on this beautiful clear night into the immensity of space, past the moon, past Mars and the gas giants, to the Milky Way and beyond. Awesome though it is, what you are looking at is an immense wasteland of cold rocks and burning stars, all pointlessly spinning through the infinite void.

Between the microscope and the telescope, you find yourself precariously balanced between two infinities, a sliver of conscious life between two immensities of unconscious, inanimate, dead matter. As Prospero put it, “we are the stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded  by a sleep”. Bounded by inanimate matter on all sides, we are like a tiny bubble of life floating on an infinite sea of death.

But what if we look through a panpsychist lens? Then we see not endless graveyards of inanimate matter as far as the eye can see, but infinite consciousness. Then we are no longer an anomaly, a weird aberration, a strange exception to the rule of universal death. We are an integral part of a living universe. And our God is “the God of the living, not of the dead.”