"Seeking balance" is no simple task, for all moves all the time. From a Daoist perspective of unprincipled knowledge in which "events" are perpetually occurring, including oneself, there is not the psychological or spiritual comfort of an "unmoving, eternal center." There is no "God fix" available; rather, everything happening has its own being, its own reality, itself. All of this is taken into account, if not literally, then metaphorically, though still as attentively as is possible. This is necessary simply because all of it is so; all of it is occurring here and now, including ourselves. Even Zen presupposes a "suchness of being," a "true nature," as it were (and as it is). This too is all-inclusive, and, now that I think about it, even similar to Jung's notion of "Self" (though I have little regard for the most hypocritical man in spite of some of the insights he conveniently took from others while claiming full credit). And living in a most principled culture (in the sense of "absolutes" and "eternals"), I too have my staid beliefs in so many archetypes of reality.
So, though I may espouse a hoped-for Daoist and/or zen (with a "small z") perspective, I also find myself quite drawn to certain Gnostic beliefs (accounted for by my Catholic Calvinistic early "education" as well as my years of Theosophical training). In spite of the Daoist/zen leanings and my profound appreciation of filtered sunlight through the redwoods, I am fascinated by the Gnostic notion (as in Valentinianism but reflected in so many other places) that as the spirit incarnates in the flesh for the purpose of "knowing the flesh through being the flesh," it, now as the soul, the place of being "between" spirit and matter, necessarily identifies with the "lower," which is matter, flesh, and its particular survival desires, which are overpowering. That we are supposed to be able to rise above, i.e., to transcend, this identity of the flesh, of survival in the flesh after we have so successfully made the transition into human being, is fraught with much inherent difficulty, if not impossibility. And this is the pronounced quest of probably all religions: to get back to where we were with what we are. Even the Daodejing wants us to return to the purity of our "primordial state." And even the most sublime Christian or Theosophical teachings and/or magic, no matter how well understood and even known do not necessarily get us anywhere beyond ourselves, our current state of being. This is precisely why the Gnostics believed that only "God" could pick us out of the crowd and "save" us from the darkness of existence in the flesh. And then, once chosen, one was really "in for it," since now one had no choice because one was "anointed," i.e., "enlightened." I didn't mention Native American religion, which is kind of a cross (no pun intended) between East and West.
This "transmutation" or purification of "lower being" to "higher being" has always been my existential dilemma. I have sought to understand it from many vantage points and have tried many ways and rituals and spells and all kinds of actions to "transcend" myself. In some ways I have succeeded, while failing as well. Bob Dylan's lyrics, "There's no success like failure, and failure's no success at all," come to mind (Love Minus Zero?). As I've previously noted, the closest I come to resolution of this riddle is in "sitting," in which I am just "here with myself as ever I may be." Provision of "breathing space" is seemingly the very best I can do for myself, which is to say, for everyone else as well. I once titled a blog, Taking a Breath in the Scheme of Things, so it has been with me for a while. A few people actually related to that theme. But I only sit occasionally these days. I'm disciplined when I'm disciplined, and otherwise not so much. My religion is my own and no one else's. If my soul shall be lost, I shall lose it and no one else. I wish. As if everything in my mind and my heart were actually mine. As if there could even be only me. No, truly, I am you as well as me. I am the other, both within and without. Sarte said, "Hell is other people," and he was so right. But, again, just where are all those "other people"?
I like writing this blog. It makes me think that someone is actually listening, and perhaps even understanding, and even better, enjoying the "conversation." I like to believe that there are people who see things much as I do, and question as I do. I'm sure there are, though I don't know what I would talk about if I met one. I have met people who "think along the same lines," as it were, but people that think like me also tend to be a bit argumentative, if not opinionated, even megalomanic. People have told me I'm "judgmental" and "too provocative," though to me, I simple assess and ask questions. Sometimes I am of the mind that one can "understand"; other times I believe that one can never possibly understand, but can only accept.
So, though I may espouse a hoped-for Daoist and/or zen (with a "small z") perspective, I also find myself quite drawn to certain Gnostic beliefs (accounted for by my Catholic Calvinistic early "education" as well as my years of Theosophical training). In spite of the Daoist/zen leanings and my profound appreciation of filtered sunlight through the redwoods, I am fascinated by the Gnostic notion (as in Valentinianism but reflected in so many other places) that as the spirit incarnates in the flesh for the purpose of "knowing the flesh through being the flesh," it, now as the soul, the place of being "between" spirit and matter, necessarily identifies with the "lower," which is matter, flesh, and its particular survival desires, which are overpowering. That we are supposed to be able to rise above, i.e., to transcend, this identity of the flesh, of survival in the flesh after we have so successfully made the transition into human being, is fraught with much inherent difficulty, if not impossibility. And this is the pronounced quest of probably all religions: to get back to where we were with what we are. Even the Daodejing wants us to return to the purity of our "primordial state." And even the most sublime Christian or Theosophical teachings and/or magic, no matter how well understood and even known do not necessarily get us anywhere beyond ourselves, our current state of being. This is precisely why the Gnostics believed that only "God" could pick us out of the crowd and "save" us from the darkness of existence in the flesh. And then, once chosen, one was really "in for it," since now one had no choice because one was "anointed," i.e., "enlightened." I didn't mention Native American religion, which is kind of a cross (no pun intended) between East and West.
This "transmutation" or purification of "lower being" to "higher being" has always been my existential dilemma. I have sought to understand it from many vantage points and have tried many ways and rituals and spells and all kinds of actions to "transcend" myself. In some ways I have succeeded, while failing as well. Bob Dylan's lyrics, "There's no success like failure, and failure's no success at all," come to mind (Love Minus Zero?). As I've previously noted, the closest I come to resolution of this riddle is in "sitting," in which I am just "here with myself as ever I may be." Provision of "breathing space" is seemingly the very best I can do for myself, which is to say, for everyone else as well. I once titled a blog, Taking a Breath in the Scheme of Things, so it has been with me for a while. A few people actually related to that theme. But I only sit occasionally these days. I'm disciplined when I'm disciplined, and otherwise not so much. My religion is my own and no one else's. If my soul shall be lost, I shall lose it and no one else. I wish. As if everything in my mind and my heart were actually mine. As if there could even be only me. No, truly, I am you as well as me. I am the other, both within and without. Sarte said, "Hell is other people," and he was so right. But, again, just where are all those "other people"?
I like writing this blog. It makes me think that someone is actually listening, and perhaps even understanding, and even better, enjoying the "conversation." I like to believe that there are people who see things much as I do, and question as I do. I'm sure there are, though I don't know what I would talk about if I met one. I have met people who "think along the same lines," as it were, but people that think like me also tend to be a bit argumentative, if not opinionated, even megalomanic. People have told me I'm "judgmental" and "too provocative," though to me, I simple assess and ask questions. Sometimes I am of the mind that one can "understand"; other times I believe that one can never possibly understand, but can only accept.
No comments:
Post a Comment