Popular Culture Review Vol. 26, No. 1, Winter 2015 | Page 18

problem shackling him to the samsSra world of desire. Reed also claims that the narrator actually achieves enlightenment in the film when he transforms from “a slave of consumerism to a confident and caring individual free from all things tying him to this world” (par. 25). In ridding himself of Tyler’s hold, Reed concludes, the narrator “breaks the final barrier holding him from accepting the true Buddha nature” (par. 26). This reader does not buy it; the narrator is too ego-centric for this reading, even if we understand Tyler as a physical manifestation of his ego metaphorically acting in place of the narrator’s actual ego. That is, Tyler as ego, the narrator as original mind or Buddha nature. Were the narrator to accept his nondualist Buddha nature as his true nature, he would recognize that there is no distance between his mind, body, and what is real, for they are one and the same. Not recognizing that time and space and “other” are merely conceptual frameworks causes an unending stream of separations (and manifestations), each pushing him further and further from the reality of original-mind. None of this is to say that he does not have flashes of insight, but they almost always come from the voice of Tyler. For example, while being questioned over the phone by a detective about blowing up his condo, Tyler whispers into his ear to tell the detective, “I’m breaking my attachment to physical power and possessions . . . because only through destroying myself can I discover the greater power of my s p irit. . . The liberator who destroys my property . . . is fighting to save my spirit. The teacher who clears all possessions from my path will set me free” (101). The narrator, of course, does not repeat this into the phone. By “destroying” himself—by eradicating all notions of self-perceived identity— he could, if he proves sincere, uncover his Buddha nature. However, the narrator’s problem is doubly compounded by the fact that even after blowing up his “attachment to physical power and possessions,” he still has two selves to rid himself of: his ideal self (Tyler) and his attachmentridden actual self, the latter of which, according to Buddhism, does not exist in the first place. Though Tyler does provide the narrator with a few important Zen lessons throughout the novel, he is by no means a compassionate teacher. Case in point: when discussing the genesis of Project Mayhem, the narrator tells us “Tyler didn’t care if other people got hurt or not. The goal was to teach each man in the project that he had the power to control history” (113). Controlling history (even one’s own) and controlling ego are two entirely different things. A few pages later we hear Tyler’s words recited by a space monkey addressing new recruits at their makeshift “Buddhist monastery” on Paper Street: “You are not a beautiful and unique 14