So I've been having this problem lately: I think too much. Which in practical terms is better than the alternative; most of the world's problems could be solved if people considered the long-term costs and benefits of their actions with regard to those around them. But when it comes to spiritual pursuits, thought can be rather stifling. Thought is inherently limited, due to the finite powers of our senses and physical confines of the brain that interprets them. The ultimate spiritual goal, however - call it by whatever name you will - is infinite and eternal, and thus by definition inaccessible to rational thought alone.
Which isn't to say that thought plays no role in contemplating ultimate reality. If that were true, there would be no such thing as science, philosophy, or theology. But as philosopher Alfred Korzybski would say, "the map is not the territory." Anything that can be said of the ultimate reality is only an approximation; from this perspective, no human belief system can be called "true" in its own right, but rather as "pointing" to a truth that can be fully realized only through direct experience. Eastern religions embrace this, hence statements such as "the Tao that can be spoken is not the eternal Tao" (Tao Te Ching, Chapter I) and "As to truth, no truth can be spoken" (Diamond Sutra, Chapter 21), from Taoism and Buddhism respectively.
Which leads back to my problem. I embrace the Eastern perspective on truth, and the eventual need to transcend thought, but at the same time, I find it extremely difficult to silence my mind, especially when contemplating spirituality. I constantly find myself grappling with deep religious / philosophical issues such as the nature of God, the origins of the universe, the Problem of Evil, etc., sometimes to the point of intellectual exhaustion. And what's worse, for all my speculation about the divine, it's been years since I last experienced the divine firsthand.
Which is why, last Wednesday night, I decided to stop thinking. From the time I left my room to get fourth-meal at about 12:30, until I went to bed around 2, I emptied my head of complex thought, and the results were rather intriguing.
Normally it would take me about two minutes to walk to the nearest campus store, but this time it took me about 15 or 20, for in my thoughtless state I took several wide detours to climb trees, jump over fences, and look at lampposts from unusual angles. Every commonplace item had become totally fascinating, and without the distraction of mind I became aware of things I had never before noticed - including some rather large things such as trees and even buildings, which just shows how little attention we pay to our surroundings when caught up in thought.
Once I got to the Commons, however, it became clear that some measure of judgment would be necessary if I was going to get past the security guards and avoid long-term social suicide, so I admitted the bare minimum of reason necessary and went inside. I did enter a couple conversations, though I kept them as short as possible to avoid forays into complex thought. I'm pretty sure people thought I was under some kind of influence, though as fellow college students I doubt if anyone thought less of me for it*. At one point, I found myself debating whether I wanted milk or a bundt cake as my meal plan side, and cut through the trouble by simply buying what was already in my hand: the cake.
*The whole experience was somewhat similar to being drunk, except that while alcohol impairs one's perceptions, deliberate thoughtlessness actually enhances them, and there are no physical symptoms either.
After buying my food, I sat down in one of the lawn chairs outside (despite it being cold and rainy), admired my surroundings as I ate my chips, and impulsively sprinted across the lawn and through some shrubbery to examine Memorial House's facade. On getting back, I microwaved my fettucine alfredo and meditated (meditation being thoughtlessness plus focus). After eating that, I meditated once more, and then went to sleep.
And you know what? I've felt much, much calmer ever since that night. I haven't been disturbed by excessive thought, nor have I felt as anxious as usual.
The whole experience sounds very mundane, of course, and it was. However, I found that when one clears their mind of judgments, priorities, and preconceptions, even a mundane experience can become fascinating. Just as "the map is not the territory," this blog post can't really convey how intriguing and enjoyable the simple experience of climbing trees and buying food can be. So if you want to experience joy and fascination, and take a break from thinking, I recommend clearing your mind now and then and appreciating the world simply as it is. You'll be surprised at how much you've been missing out on.
Friday, February 5, 2010
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Love... and Velociraptors
Okay, so this is my second blog entry, and this time I'm going to be talking about love. It's actually a very important topic to me. Of all the things I want out of my life, true love ranks at the very top of the list. And I have been in love before, though I'm not quite sure how many times. Once for sure. It was too wonderful and painful to have been anything else. Possibly twice. And soon maybe thrice, if my current mixed-up feelings get straightened out and continue to grow. But as might be deduced from the words "possibly," "maybe," and "mixed-up," I can't claim to understand love. What is it? How does it start? Why does it end (or does it?)? And why does it have the power to both illuminate and ruin our lives? Here are some random ideas.
According to Joseph Campbell (author of The Hero with a Thousand Faces and The Power of Myth), our modern conception of "true love" as an immaterial bond between two people is relatively recent in origin, dating back only as far as the Middle Ages. However, Plato's Symposium was written nearly 2,000 years earlier, circa 385 BCE, and deals with the subject of romantic love in much detail. In it, the poet Aristophanes proposes that human beings were originally created as eight-limbed, two-headed beings, whose massive strength and intelligence eventually allowed them to make war on the gods. As punishment, Zeus split them each in two, cursing them to wander forever in pursuit of their other half*. This, says Aristophanes, is why people claim to feel "whole" when they're in love.
*Interestingly, he also explains homosexuality in this way; that although most humans were hermaphroditic prior to division, some had only male or only female body parts, and so their other half today is of the same sex as themselves.
Although the image of humans with eight limbs and two heads is rather ridiculous, at the symbolic level I find this story very resonant. Perhaps Aristophanes was partially right, and when we search for a soul-mate who'll "complete" us, we're really searching for the other half of our once-undivided soul.
While considering love as a means of restoring spiritual unity, it might be worth consulting the Hindu Upanishads. Dating back several hundred years earlier, they contain an interesting statement that "it is not for the love of a husband that a husband is dear; it is for the love of the self that a husband is dear. It is not for the love of a wife that a wife is dear; it is for the love of the self that a wife is dear" (Brhadaranyaka Upanishad 4:6). When understood in its proper context, it describes the belief that at its most basic level, the personal soul (atman) is one with the impersonal and supreme God (Brahman), and that all beings are ultimately one. Love, then, is simply a recognition of your own oneness with another person, and might be considered a form of partial enlightenment. Note "partial;" by this reasoning, love between just two people is incomplete, as perfect enlightenment requires recognizing your oneness with everyone.* Although logical, this doesn't feel right to me, as it seems to destroy the uniqueness of romantic love.
*Within Roman Catholicism, one might see a parallel in the requirement of priests to be celibate. As per the Dharmic religions, enlightenment requires that one be equally at-one with all beings; similarly, priests are supposed to act as agents of God on Earth, and are thus expected to love all of their flock equally, without having favorites. Romantic love, of course, is a form of favoritism.
Of course, within Hinduism (and Buddhism, Jainism, and Sikhism as well) one could appeal to dharma, or destiny, to explain the importance of romantic love, at least in the lives of certain people. In the great epic Mahabharata, for instance, a woman named Draupadi is granted a boon by the god Shiva, and wishes for a husband with five qualities (piety, strength, prowess in battle, handsomeness, and knowledge). No one man possesses all five qualities, but each of the heroic Pandava brothers bears one of them, and in her next life Draupadi is married to all five of them. Polygamy is no longer widely practiced, and love is not usually thought of in polygamous terms; however, a Hindu might nonetheless explain "soul-mates" as two people who, as the result of some past-life occurrence or cosmic plan, are destined to live a life together.
My mom once suggested a theory - I'm not sure if came from somewhere else, or was her own - that when we fall in love with a person, it's because they exemplify our own ideal selves. If you love someone for their kindness, for instance, it's because you want to be as kind as they are. Same goes for intelligence, beauty, sense of humor, etc. Yet again, love functions as a means of self-completion, for by loving someone who represents our ideals we come closer to attaining those ideals for ourselves. Heartbreak, by this model, might arise when we realize that our loved one isn't actually perfect, and isn't as kind / intelligent / beautiful / funny as we thought they were.
Several months ago, I attended a black church service hosted by Vanderbilt's Jeremiah Generation. In his sermon, the preacher (Minister Jamie Frazier) made an interesting point about love while explaining the doctrine of the Holy Trinity*. God, according to him, is supposed to teach us how to love perfectly; how could this be possible unless God had someone else to love? Thus the trinitarian image of god, by which three divine persons who act as one through the power of their mutual love. It was a striking image, and it would suggest that love is not only a human (or, more generally, mortal**) phenomenon, but an inherent aspect of Divinity as well.
*Incidentally, the doctrine of the Trinity exists not only in Christianity, but also Hinduism (the Trimurti of Brahma, Vishnu, and Shiva) and the Olympian religion of the Greco-Romans (Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades).
**I don't believe in exclusively human qualities: things that all humans, but no animals, possess. I've personally seen animals exhibit everything from empathy to depression to deception to humor; modern science has demonstrated tool use, self-awareness, mourning, and even language in other species. Darwinian evolution, in which traits arise over millions of years, has no place for human-only qualities, and neither do any of the Dharmic religions, which consider all life to be en-souled and subject to the same forces of karma and dharma. Islam regards humans as God's appointed masters of the Earth, but also teaches that all life-forms have "communities" and "praise God" in their own way, implying that they have a soul and again undermining much of the concept of human exclusivity.
Now, just for kicks, I'm going to suggest my own ludicrous theory as to the origins of love. In many regards, falling in love is much like a Velociraptor attack. It strikes you when you least expect it, digs in and won't let go, tears you inside out, and consumes your heart, causing intense pain and suffering. It thus follows that love is actually a type of raptor. 65 million years ago, when a massive asteroid impact caused the extinction of most life on Earth, including the dinosaurs (except for birds), the Velociraptors survived by shedding their physical bodies and becoming beings of pure energy (which we shall call Philoraptors, or "love thieves"). They then took refuge in the hearts of early mammals, which eventually became humans. Today, whenever we fall in love, it's because a Philoraptor has left someone else's heart and attacked us. The challenge, then, is to get our own Philoraptor to attack them as well. If this should occur, the Philoraptors will make peace, and mutual love will ensue.
It's not actually any sillier than Scientology; maybe I should start a church based on it. >;-) Just kidding. I just thought of it because I'm obsessed with raptors. Anyway, that's all for right now. Hopefully we can each find success in love, even if the nature of its existence forever remains a mystery.
According to Joseph Campbell (author of The Hero with a Thousand Faces and The Power of Myth), our modern conception of "true love" as an immaterial bond between two people is relatively recent in origin, dating back only as far as the Middle Ages. However, Plato's Symposium was written nearly 2,000 years earlier, circa 385 BCE, and deals with the subject of romantic love in much detail. In it, the poet Aristophanes proposes that human beings were originally created as eight-limbed, two-headed beings, whose massive strength and intelligence eventually allowed them to make war on the gods. As punishment, Zeus split them each in two, cursing them to wander forever in pursuit of their other half*. This, says Aristophanes, is why people claim to feel "whole" when they're in love.
*Interestingly, he also explains homosexuality in this way; that although most humans were hermaphroditic prior to division, some had only male or only female body parts, and so their other half today is of the same sex as themselves.
Although the image of humans with eight limbs and two heads is rather ridiculous, at the symbolic level I find this story very resonant. Perhaps Aristophanes was partially right, and when we search for a soul-mate who'll "complete" us, we're really searching for the other half of our once-undivided soul.
While considering love as a means of restoring spiritual unity, it might be worth consulting the Hindu Upanishads. Dating back several hundred years earlier, they contain an interesting statement that "it is not for the love of a husband that a husband is dear; it is for the love of the self that a husband is dear. It is not for the love of a wife that a wife is dear; it is for the love of the self that a wife is dear" (Brhadaranyaka Upanishad 4:6). When understood in its proper context, it describes the belief that at its most basic level, the personal soul (atman) is one with the impersonal and supreme God (Brahman), and that all beings are ultimately one. Love, then, is simply a recognition of your own oneness with another person, and might be considered a form of partial enlightenment. Note "partial;" by this reasoning, love between just two people is incomplete, as perfect enlightenment requires recognizing your oneness with everyone.* Although logical, this doesn't feel right to me, as it seems to destroy the uniqueness of romantic love.
*Within Roman Catholicism, one might see a parallel in the requirement of priests to be celibate. As per the Dharmic religions, enlightenment requires that one be equally at-one with all beings; similarly, priests are supposed to act as agents of God on Earth, and are thus expected to love all of their flock equally, without having favorites. Romantic love, of course, is a form of favoritism.
Of course, within Hinduism (and Buddhism, Jainism, and Sikhism as well) one could appeal to dharma, or destiny, to explain the importance of romantic love, at least in the lives of certain people. In the great epic Mahabharata, for instance, a woman named Draupadi is granted a boon by the god Shiva, and wishes for a husband with five qualities (piety, strength, prowess in battle, handsomeness, and knowledge). No one man possesses all five qualities, but each of the heroic Pandava brothers bears one of them, and in her next life Draupadi is married to all five of them. Polygamy is no longer widely practiced, and love is not usually thought of in polygamous terms; however, a Hindu might nonetheless explain "soul-mates" as two people who, as the result of some past-life occurrence or cosmic plan, are destined to live a life together.
My mom once suggested a theory - I'm not sure if came from somewhere else, or was her own - that when we fall in love with a person, it's because they exemplify our own ideal selves. If you love someone for their kindness, for instance, it's because you want to be as kind as they are. Same goes for intelligence, beauty, sense of humor, etc. Yet again, love functions as a means of self-completion, for by loving someone who represents our ideals we come closer to attaining those ideals for ourselves. Heartbreak, by this model, might arise when we realize that our loved one isn't actually perfect, and isn't as kind / intelligent / beautiful / funny as we thought they were.
Several months ago, I attended a black church service hosted by Vanderbilt's Jeremiah Generation. In his sermon, the preacher (Minister Jamie Frazier) made an interesting point about love while explaining the doctrine of the Holy Trinity*. God, according to him, is supposed to teach us how to love perfectly; how could this be possible unless God had someone else to love? Thus the trinitarian image of god, by which three divine persons who act as one through the power of their mutual love. It was a striking image, and it would suggest that love is not only a human (or, more generally, mortal**) phenomenon, but an inherent aspect of Divinity as well.
*Incidentally, the doctrine of the Trinity exists not only in Christianity, but also Hinduism (the Trimurti of Brahma, Vishnu, and Shiva) and the Olympian religion of the Greco-Romans (Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades).
**I don't believe in exclusively human qualities: things that all humans, but no animals, possess. I've personally seen animals exhibit everything from empathy to depression to deception to humor; modern science has demonstrated tool use, self-awareness, mourning, and even language in other species. Darwinian evolution, in which traits arise over millions of years, has no place for human-only qualities, and neither do any of the Dharmic religions, which consider all life to be en-souled and subject to the same forces of karma and dharma. Islam regards humans as God's appointed masters of the Earth, but also teaches that all life-forms have "communities" and "praise God" in their own way, implying that they have a soul and again undermining much of the concept of human exclusivity.
Now, just for kicks, I'm going to suggest my own ludicrous theory as to the origins of love. In many regards, falling in love is much like a Velociraptor attack. It strikes you when you least expect it, digs in and won't let go, tears you inside out, and consumes your heart, causing intense pain and suffering. It thus follows that love is actually a type of raptor. 65 million years ago, when a massive asteroid impact caused the extinction of most life on Earth, including the dinosaurs (except for birds), the Velociraptors survived by shedding their physical bodies and becoming beings of pure energy (which we shall call Philoraptors, or "love thieves"). They then took refuge in the hearts of early mammals, which eventually became humans. Today, whenever we fall in love, it's because a Philoraptor has left someone else's heart and attacked us. The challenge, then, is to get our own Philoraptor to attack them as well. If this should occur, the Philoraptors will make peace, and mutual love will ensue.
It's not actually any sillier than Scientology; maybe I should start a church based on it. >;-) Just kidding. I just thought of it because I'm obsessed with raptors. Anyway, that's all for right now. Hopefully we can each find success in love, even if the nature of its existence forever remains a mystery.
Friday, January 22, 2010
First Post!!!
So I created this blog today... as the subtitle explains, it doesn't actually have anything to do with werewolves, at least not as a central theme. Knowing myself, though, I'm sure that sooner or later I'll end up posting something werewolf-related. 'Til then, you'll have to make do with my random philosophical, religious, and pseudo-scientific speculations about the universe.
So that said, let's talk about 2012. I never actually bought it, and I buy it even less now that I've taken "Collapse of Civilizations" and learned about the Maya's actual beliefs. December 21, 2012 marks the end of a b'aktun, a span of 5,125 years in the Mayan calendar system. A b'aktun had roughly the same significance to the Maya as a millennium does to us, and were the Classic Maya still around, 2012 would be marked by massive sacrifices and rituals. However, there was never any association of this date with the end of the world, and Mayan prophecies actually extend thousands of years into the future. And besides, if the Maya really had such profound insights into the future, why couldn't they avert their own collapse?*
*Admittedly, this might be a flawed question, because if one views prophecy as a form of time travel (e.g., a prophet receiving information as it travels backwards through the past), then successfully averting a foretold event would create a temporal paradox, as it would prevent the original prophecy from ever occurring. See
However, although "Collapse of Civilizations" put the lie to 2012, it ironically made the possibility of imminent apocalypse sound more plausible. The same sociopolitical, economic, and ideological breakdown that has typically preceded collapse in ancient societies, can now be easily seen in our own modern, globalized civilization. Throw in climate change, nuclear proliferation, and resource shortages, and you've got the recipe for some epic sh*t-hitting-fan action.
And 2012 still figures in this in several ways. After watching the movie 2012 - which I definitely recommend for its stunning visuals and heart-racing action - I found myself entertaining the possibility of apocalypse, and what I would do if it came. What major, I asked, would best prepare me to endure a worldwide societal collapse? Film (one of my intended majors) would probably not be terribly useful. Religious Studies might offer more utility in several regards. If, perchance, the collapse started to resemble any existing prophecies, I'd have an advantage in recognizing them and planning accordingly (should I be on the lookout for the Antichrist, Loki, or the demon Kali, for instance?). And, in the event that I survived the fallout, a background in religion could prove useful in creating a new, better world order, and in shaping a system of spirituality that would remain genuinely spiritual (without being twisted into an excuse for violence and bloodshed).
For despite the immense tragedy an apocalypse would entail, and the millions or even billions who would probably perish, it might prove essential to the future of mankind. The Bible* provides a useful example. According to Genesis, the first human civilizations quickly became corrupt and degenerate. The possibility of reform was made impossible by the sheer scale of the problem. But once the Flood came and destroyed civilization, leaving only a few survivors, the prospect of establishing a better society became much easier. In the same way, the sheer size of modern civilization makes it seem extremely unlikely that we can solve its problems before it's too late. In the wake of an apocalypse, however, the lack of an established order would make this task much easier. Assuming the survivors were wise, and capable of learning from society's mistakes, they could build a new civilization insusceptible to such mistakes in the future.
*I don't believe in Biblical infallibility, nor that any other religious text is "perfect" (since all are subject to human error), but they can still provide useful insights.
And yes, I realize I'm a starry-eyed optimist. It probably wouldn't happen that way, but there'd at least be a possibility.
Shifting gears a bit, I've talked to several people about their plans for December 21, 2012. They usually consist of partying. And at first glance, it seems like the perfect excuse for it. If it's the end of the world, there's nothing left to lose, and if not, then partying just makes light of the whole silly scenario, right? This isn't my reasoning. Partying can be fun now and then, but if I actually knew I was going to die soon, I wouldn't want it to be my last activity on Earth. First off, the End of Days would likely be the greatest spectacle of all time; I'd hate to miss it 'cause I was wasted out of my mind. And secondly, I'd rather die in a high state of mind than a low one. "Whatever a man at his end remembers on leaving the body, to that he always goes," says Bhagavad-Gita 8:7, and I tend to believe this. But even if it isn't literally true, to die in the midst of partying seems hardly proper closure to life.
So rather than partying, I intend to make December 21, 2012 a kind of observance. On that day, I will live as though it was my last day on Earth. I will spend time with those whom I love, apologize to all those I have harmed, and confess all feelings I have kept hidden from anyone. I will read my favorite books, watch my favorite movies, and listen to my favorite music. I will soak in the beauty of nature, and contemplate its origins. I will pray and meditate and - when the day is over - I will give thanks for all that life has given me.
That way, when death actually does come, its prospect may seem less terrifying, for I will know how to react. And, in the unlikely event that December 21, 2012 really IS the end of the world, at least I'll die without regrets.
So that said, let's talk about 2012. I never actually bought it, and I buy it even less now that I've taken "Collapse of Civilizations" and learned about the Maya's actual beliefs. December 21, 2012 marks the end of a b'aktun, a span of 5,125 years in the Mayan calendar system. A b'aktun had roughly the same significance to the Maya as a millennium does to us, and were the Classic Maya still around, 2012 would be marked by massive sacrifices and rituals. However, there was never any association of this date with the end of the world, and Mayan prophecies actually extend thousands of years into the future. And besides, if the Maya really had such profound insights into the future, why couldn't they avert their own collapse?*
*Admittedly, this might be a flawed question, because if one views prophecy as a form of time travel (e.g., a prophet receiving information as it travels backwards through the past), then successfully averting a foretold event would create a temporal paradox, as it would prevent the original prophecy from ever occurring. See
However, although "Collapse of Civilizations" put the lie to 2012, it ironically made the possibility of imminent apocalypse sound more plausible. The same sociopolitical, economic, and ideological breakdown that has typically preceded collapse in ancient societies, can now be easily seen in our own modern, globalized civilization. Throw in climate change, nuclear proliferation, and resource shortages, and you've got the recipe for some epic sh*t-hitting-fan action.
And 2012 still figures in this in several ways. After watching the movie 2012 - which I definitely recommend for its stunning visuals and heart-racing action - I found myself entertaining the possibility of apocalypse, and what I would do if it came. What major, I asked, would best prepare me to endure a worldwide societal collapse? Film (one of my intended majors) would probably not be terribly useful. Religious Studies might offer more utility in several regards. If, perchance, the collapse started to resemble any existing prophecies, I'd have an advantage in recognizing them and planning accordingly (should I be on the lookout for the Antichrist, Loki, or the demon Kali, for instance?). And, in the event that I survived the fallout, a background in religion could prove useful in creating a new, better world order, and in shaping a system of spirituality that would remain genuinely spiritual (without being twisted into an excuse for violence and bloodshed).
For despite the immense tragedy an apocalypse would entail, and the millions or even billions who would probably perish, it might prove essential to the future of mankind. The Bible* provides a useful example. According to Genesis, the first human civilizations quickly became corrupt and degenerate. The possibility of reform was made impossible by the sheer scale of the problem. But once the Flood came and destroyed civilization, leaving only a few survivors, the prospect of establishing a better society became much easier. In the same way, the sheer size of modern civilization makes it seem extremely unlikely that we can solve its problems before it's too late. In the wake of an apocalypse, however, the lack of an established order would make this task much easier. Assuming the survivors were wise, and capable of learning from society's mistakes, they could build a new civilization insusceptible to such mistakes in the future.
*I don't believe in Biblical infallibility, nor that any other religious text is "perfect" (since all are subject to human error), but they can still provide useful insights.
And yes, I realize I'm a starry-eyed optimist. It probably wouldn't happen that way, but there'd at least be a possibility.
Shifting gears a bit, I've talked to several people about their plans for December 21, 2012. They usually consist of partying. And at first glance, it seems like the perfect excuse for it. If it's the end of the world, there's nothing left to lose, and if not, then partying just makes light of the whole silly scenario, right? This isn't my reasoning. Partying can be fun now and then, but if I actually knew I was going to die soon, I wouldn't want it to be my last activity on Earth. First off, the End of Days would likely be the greatest spectacle of all time; I'd hate to miss it 'cause I was wasted out of my mind. And secondly, I'd rather die in a high state of mind than a low one. "Whatever a man at his end remembers on leaving the body, to that he always goes," says Bhagavad-Gita 8:7, and I tend to believe this. But even if it isn't literally true, to die in the midst of partying seems hardly proper closure to life.
So rather than partying, I intend to make December 21, 2012 a kind of observance. On that day, I will live as though it was my last day on Earth. I will spend time with those whom I love, apologize to all those I have harmed, and confess all feelings I have kept hidden from anyone. I will read my favorite books, watch my favorite movies, and listen to my favorite music. I will soak in the beauty of nature, and contemplate its origins. I will pray and meditate and - when the day is over - I will give thanks for all that life has given me.
That way, when death actually does come, its prospect may seem less terrifying, for I will know how to react. And, in the unlikely event that December 21, 2012 really IS the end of the world, at least I'll die without regrets.
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