Shares – Becoming Human

Alan Watts on the perils and pitfalls for Westerners of attempting to follow Eastern spiritual paths

Verified on Po.et

April 5th 2018, 15:20

In this talk, Alan Watts explains the cultural presuppositions underpinning Taoism, Buddhism and Advaita Vedanta, and consequently some of the problems and contradictions often linked to their adoption by Westerners. Essentially, his argument is that these systems are designed to achieve liberation from specific forms of cultural conditioning; for those who do not share those forms of cultural conditioning, they make considerably less sense, especially if not appropriately reinterpreted. It is particularly problematic when Westerners simultaneously attempt to adopt the cultural framework of reference as part of the practice, given that the practice is designed to liberate from that very cultural framework. Watts argues that esoteric forms of these religions were essentially conceived to protect them against social forces that otherwise would have repressed them, and that the esotericism is therefore epiphenomenal. He points out that any effort to supersede the ego which is driven by the ego, which is the case of any allegiance to a given doctrinal path, is doomed to failure. These are important insights.

I would disagree with him on two points: reincarnation is a widespread belief even in the West (surveys show upwards of 20% adherence). It also characterizes, in one form or another, many pre-agricultural societies. In my opinion, it has a phenomenological underpinning. I also don’t understand his claim that the thought of either Jung or Freud was shaped in any significant way by social Darwinism or Hegelianism. Nevertheless, I certainly do agree that there is a risk for those in the West who are attracted to Eastern religions to get caught up in exotic epiphenomena, mistaking these for essential features and essentially trading one set of religious rituals for another.

However, even within their own cultural context, we should be very careful not uncritically to suppose that these practices actually are efficacious. Mostly they are not even meant to be. Any religion has its mystical core simply because mysticism has been constrained to express itself in the language of the dominant surrounding religious culture. This core may inspire us and reward study, but it’s essentially the sedimentary residue of experience in other times and places; it is certainly no substitute for our own direct experience of the divine.

Life’s stages

I publish here my prose translation of Hermann Hesse’s poem Stufen (prompted by the poor quality of other translations I found on the internet). I am more and more convinced that he must have been an enlightened master!

Stages

As every flower fades, and youth turns always into old age, so every stage of life, all wisdom and all virtue, flowers also, yet cannot last forever.

Whenever life beckons, the heart must be ready to take its leave and start over, venturing into new commitments bravely and without sorrow. For a magic dwells in each beginning, which protects us and teaches us how to live.

Cheerfully, then, let us traverse realm on realm, cleaving to none as to a home. The spirit of the world does not desire to fetter or restrict us, but to raise us higher, step by step. For whenever we are accustomed to some station in life, we risk falling into sleep. Only he who is prepared to make a break and move on can escape the crippling force of habit.

Perchance even the hour of death will send us out afresh towards undreamt-of lands. Life’s call to us is unending. Take courage then, my heart, take leave and fare thee well.

The bondage of self

Just a share. Seems to me what the guy is talking about goes way beyond substance abuse. We use relationships to distract ourselves from our inner conflicts. And yet, once the effect wears off, they inevitably do the exact opposite.

“There were many [girls]… They all represent the same thing, the reason I pursued them: dopamine. It wasn’t just for the blowjob, or the frayed jean shorts. It was for the release of neurotransmitters that briefly relieved the bondage of self. It was a way to get high without ingesting chemicals. …Dopamin[e] and I had our fun, but we never really connected. We were incapable of anything beyond carnality and co-dependency. We used each other to feel better, and consequently, we felt worse.”

See http://www.salon.com/2012/12/20/my_twisted_rehab_sex_life/

A poem on love and projection in relationships

Translation into English of the poem by Julos Beaucarne, “Femmes et Hommes de la Texture”.

This is my translation of a poem by Walloon poet and singer-songwriter Julos Beaucarne, shared by one of the participants in my Five Rhythms workshops. The original is entitled “Femmes et Hommes de la Texture” and is here.

Women and men of texture

Of speech and of the wind, you who weave fabrics out of words

On the tip of your teeth, do not allow yourselves to become attached

Do not permit yourself to be saddled

With impossible dreams

You are loved

Just as long as you fit into the dream made out of you

Then the great river of Love flows gently over you

Your days are happy under the mauve chestnut trees

But if it should happen that you are no longer

The person who inhabited the dream

Then you meet headwinds

The boot lists, the sail rips

The lifeboats are put to sea

Words of love become knives

Which are plunged in your heart

The person who yesterday cherished you

Hates you today

The person who was so attentive

To your laughter and tears

No longer can bear the sound of your voice

Nothing is any longer open to discussion

Your suitcase is thrown from the window

It’s raining, and you walk up the street

In your black overcoat

Is it love to want the other

To abandon his own pathway and his own journey ?

Is it love to lock up the other

In the prison of your own dream ?

Women and men of texture of speech and of the wind

You who weave fabrics out of words

At the tip of your teeth

Do not accept to be the object of dreams

Dreamt by any other than yourself

Each has his own path

Which sometimes he alone can understand

Women and men of texture,

Of speech and of the wind

If only we all could firstly

And above all

Be lovers of Life

Then we would no longer be these eternal questioners,

These eternal beggars

Who waste so much energy and time

In waiting for others to give them signs,

Kisses, recognition

If only we were, above all and in the first place,

Lovers of Life

Everything would be a gift for us

We would never be disappointed.

One should not allow oneself to dream upon others

Only I know the pathway which leads me

To the destination of my journey

Everyone is in his own life and his own skin

To each his texture, his weaving and his words

The original source was found on a website which carries the following copyright notice: “Any quotation must mention the author and the website address www.julos.be. Photos, PDF documents and MP3 files may be downloaded for personal use only. Commercial use is subject to copyright law.” The present translation has not been reviewed or authorized by the author, is not presented here with any commercial purpose, and any use of it should abide by the above terms. I waive any claim of copyright in favor of the original author.

Osho on relationships (again)

This Osho quote was a new one for me. I can so absolutely identify with this, it is kinda scary 😉

(found on wildtantra.com)

“…Any relationship between man and woman is playing with fire and particularly if you start also being a meditator then you are surrounded by a wild fire because so many changes are going to happen for which you are not prepared and cannot be prepared. You are going to travel in an unknown territory every moment every day, and there will be many times when you will be left behind or your partner will be left behind, and this will be a deep anguish to both. And in the beginning when it will start, the natural inference will be as if our relationship is finished, that we are no more in love. Certainly you are no more in the love you were before, that old love is no more possible, that was animal love. It is good that it is gone. Now a more higher quality, something divine is going to take place, but you have to help each other. These are the real difficult times when one comes to know whether you love your partner or whether your partner loves you. When these great gaps arise between you and you feel going far away from each other, these are the moments crucial of a fire test; that you should try to bring the other person, who is left behind closer to you. You should help the other person to be meditative. The natural idea will be to bring yourself down, so the other is not offended. That’s absolutely a wrong attitude. You are not helping the other, you are hurting yourself. A good opportunity is being lost. When you could have pulled the other towards highs, you have descended yourself. Don’t be worried that the other will be offended. You make every effort to bring the other also to the same space, to the same meditative mind and the other will be grateful, not offended. But these are not the moments, when you should depart from each other. These are the moments when you should keep with every effort the contact with the other with as much compassion as possible. Because if love cannot help the other in transforming the animal energies into higher spiritual energies, then your love is not love, not worth calling love…” Osho

Myths of forgiveness

In this article I will summarize a recent piece appearing on netzwerkb.org, a german language network for victims of sexualized violence. I understand from the comments that Barbara Rogers, author of the unmissable resource “Screams from Childhood“, intends to publish a full translation so in the meantime these are just highlights (under my own responsibility).

The author argues that it is inappropriate to pursue or encourage, in a therapeutic context, forgiveness of the perpetrator, and identifies in this context three myths.

The first myth is that forgiveness, processing and reconciliation vis-à-vis the perpetrator might have a healing effect on adults who suffered violence in childhood. To do so amounts to taking away the voice of the abused child which it is only in the process of recovering. This is especially dangerous if the perpetrator remains a person with whom the victim is likely to be in contact. Forgiveness may result in a certain feeling of release from the feeling of guilt the victim may feeling as a result of the social pressure to forgive which the victim cannot attain. This ability to process is portrayed as a virtue. However, it is really an act of fear which restores the relationship of power between perpetrator and victim and may well lead to retraumatization.

The second myth is that forgiveness, processing and reconciliation makes the world a better place. This finds its roots in religious traditions, which idealize masochism. Religion needs this myth as a foundation for the existing world order of repression, whereby victims continue to provide resources to political elites. This makes the world a worse, not better place.

The third myth is that forgiveness reduces anger, hatred and the desire for revenge. Forgiveness is identical to repression of these feelings which also the child could not express. Forgiveness doesn’t reduce these feelings but only perpetuates the cycle by shifting them to the next generation.

In the comments, the point is somewhere made that what the author is talking about is not in fact real “forgiveness”. I think that’s in some sense true. When forgiveness equates to compassion it is certainly a final stage of liberation. However, the word is so laden with patriarchal values and power to manipulate through the superego that this is a sense it assumes almost never in practice. Therefore I fully agree with the authors that first we must reconnect with our anger, hatred and sadness and the call to forgive is, in this context, both in a true sense impossible and as a practical matter utterly misguided and inappropriate.

Conscious, embodied anger is one of the most powerful phenomena to observe in a person – it’s beautiful, breathtaking and can be extremely erotic. By contrast, fawned forgiveness elicits in others a natural reaction of repulsion. This is because we know inside that the angry person is right, and is possessed of extraordinary power to change and bring healing. With this we instantly identify. The “forgiving” person, on the other hand, seems to invite us to continue to feel shame about our own burning sense of injustice in order to live a quiet but insipid life. This is really just an extension of the social control which has kept our anger buried and allowed manipulation and abuse to continue. The “forgiving” person is therefore on “their” side; the angry person, ours.

Some words on marriage, by Shelley

We are already two centuries later. Hard to believe.

Not even the intercourse of the sexes is exempt from the despotism of positive institution. Law pretends even to govern the indisciplinable wanderings of passion, to put fetters on the clearest deductions of reason, and, by appeals to the will, to subdue the involuntary affections of our nature.

Love is inevitably consequent upon the perception of loveliness. Love withers under constraint: its very essence is liberty: it is compatible neither with obedience, jealousy, nor fear: it is there most pure, perfect, and unlimited, where its votaries live in confidence, equality, and unreserve.

How long then ought the sexual connection to last? what law ought to specify the extent of the grievances which should limit its duration? A husband and wife ought to continue so long united as they love each other: any law which should bind them to cohabitation for one moment after the decay of their affection would be a most intolerable tyranny, and the most unworthy of toleration. How odious an usurpation of the right of private judgement should that law be considered which should make the ties of friendship indissoluble, in spite of the caprices, the inconstancy, the fallibility, and capacity for improvement of the human mind. And by so much would the fetters of love be heavier and more unendurable than those of friendship, as love is more vehement and capricious, more dependent on those delicate peculiarities of imagination, and less capable of reduction to the ostensible merits of the object.

The state of society in which we exist is a mixture of feudal savageness and imperfect civilization. The narrow and unenlightened morality of the Christian religion is an aggravation of these evils. It is not even until lately that mankind have admitted that happiness is the sole end of the science of ethics, as of all other sciences; and that the fanatical idea of mortifying the flesh for the love of God has been discarded. …

But if happiness be the object of morality, of all human unions and disunions; if the worthiness of every action is to be estimated by the quantity of pleasurable sensation it is calculated to produce, then the connection of the sexes is so long sacred as it contributes to the comfort of the parties, and is naturally dissolved when its evils are greater than its benefits. There is nothing immoral in this separation. Constancy has nothing virtuous in itself, independently of the pleasure it confers, and partakes of the temporizing spirit of vice in proportion as it endures tamely moral defects of magnitude in the object of its indiscreet choice. Love is free: to promise for ever to love the same woman is not less absurd than to promise to believe the same creed: such a vow, in both cases, excludes us from all inquiry. The language of the votarist is this: The woman I now love may be infinitely inferior to many others; the creed I now profess may be a mass of errors and absurdities; but I exclude myself from all future information as to the amiability of the one and the truth of the other, resolving blindly, and in spite of conviction, to adhere to them. Is this the language of delicacy and reason? Is the love of such a frigid heart of more worth than its belief?

The present system of constraint does no more, in the majority of instances, than make hypocrites or open enemies. Persons of delicacy and virtue, unhappily united to one whom they find it impossible to love, spend the loveliest season of their life in unproductive efforts to appear otherwise than they are, for the sake of the feelings of their partner or the welfare of their mutual offspring: those of less generosity and refinement openly avow their disappointment, and linger out the remnant of that union, which only death can dissolve, in a state of incurable bickering and hostility. The early education of their children takes its colour from the squabbles of the parents; they are nursed in a systematic school of ill-humour, violence, and falsehood. Had they been suffered to part at the moment when indifference rendered their union irksome, they would have been spared many years of misery: they would have connected themselves more suitably, and would have found that happiness in the society of more congenial partners which is for ever denied them by the despotism of marriage. They would have been separately useful and happy members of society, who, whilst united, were miserable and rendered misanthropical by misery. The conviction that wedlock is indissoluble holds out the strongest of all temptations to the perverse: they indulge without restraint in acrimony, and all the little tyrannies of domestic life, when they know that their victim is without appeal. If this connection were put on a rational basis, each would be assured that habitual ill-temper would terminate in separation, and would check this vicious and dangerous propensity.

Prostitution is the legitimate offspring of marriage and its accompanying errors. Women, for no other crime than having followed the dictates of a natural appetite, are driven with fury from the comforts and sympathies of society. It is less venial than murder; and the punishment which is inflicted on her who destroys her child to escape reproach is lighter than the life of agony and disease to which the prostitute is irrecoverably doomed. Has a woman obeyed the impulse of unerring nature;— society declares war against her, pitiless and eternal war: she must be the tame slave, she must make no reprisals; theirs is the right of persecution, hers the duty of endurance. She lives a life of infamy: the loud and bitter laugh of scorn scares her from all return. She dies of long and lingering disease: yet SHE is in fault, SHE is the criminal, SHE the froward and untamable child,— and society, forsooth, the pure and virtuous matron, who casts her as an abortion from her undefiled bosom! Society avenges herself on the criminals of her own creation; she is employed in anathematizing the vice to-day, which yesterday she was the most zealous to teach. Thus is formed one-tenth of the population of London: meanwhile the evil is twofold. Young men, excluded by the fanatical idea of chastity from the society of modest and accomplished women, associate with these vicious and miserable beings, destroying thereby all those exquisite and delicate sensibilities whose existence cold-hearted worldlings have denied; annihilating all genuine passion, and debasing that to a selfish feeling which is the excess of generosity and devotedness. Their body and mind alike crumble into a hideous wreck of humanity; idiocy and disease become perpetuated in their miserable offspring, and distant generations suffer for the bigoted morality of their forefathers. Chastity is a monkish and evangelical superstition, a greater foe to natural temperance even than unintellectual sensuality; it strikes at the root of all domestic happiness, and consigns more than half of the human race to misery, that some few may monopolize according to law. A system could not well have been devised more studiously hostile to human happiness than marriage.

I conceive that from the abolition of marriage, the fit and natural arrangement of sexual connection would result. I by no means assert that the intercourse would be promiscuous: on the contrary, it appears, from the relation of parent to child, that this union is generally of long duration, and marked above all others with generosity and self-devotion. But this is a subject which it is perhaps premature to discuss. That which will result from the abolition of marriage will be natural and right; because choice and change will be exempted from restraint.

In fact, religion and morality, as they now stand, compose a practical code of misery and servitude: the genius of human happiness must tear every leaf from the accursed book of God ere man can read the inscription on his heart. How would morality, dressed up in stiff stays and finery, start from her own disgusting image should she look in the mirror of nature!—

(Notes on Queen Mab, 5.189)

Osho on love and relationships

When a man loves a woman, then he naturally also loves many other people; and when a woman loves a man, then she also loves many other people, because love cannot be limited to a single person. If there is love there at all, it cannot be circumscribed. This is only possible when there is no love.

Love is like breathing. If someone told you, “I only breathe when I am with you, and the rest of the time I don’t breathe”, then you wouldn’t believe him. How could you believe him? He would be dead, if he didn’t breathe without you.

Love is the breath of your soul.

But this is what we have turned it into: for centuries we have made people believe in such stupid ideas and in the process brought so much unhappiness into the world, sown so much jealousy, possessiveness and hatred – for no reason at all! We have programmed this stupid idea into people’s heads that love can only be between two people and therefore must be a dyadic relationship. “True love is a dyadic relationship. When it is not, it is not true love.”

The truth is the exact opposite: when it is a dyadic relationship, it is not true love. In this case, it is not authentic, it is a deception, just an illusion. Then two people are imagining something and are untrue to themselves – not only to their partner, but also to themselves!

How can a man who has a sense of beauty avoid noticing the beauty of women? How can he avoid being interested in them? The only way is to destroy completely his sense of beauty. But then he is not interested any more in his own wife either. This is exactly what has happened: because of this idiotic idea that love must be purely a dyadic relationship, there is no more love on earth. The only possibility is that the husband no longer loves his own wife, since he must kill off the very drive to love. He must suppress every sense of beauty and forget completely that there is such a thing. But then – don’t forget this – he cannot love his own wife any more either – all he can do is pretend. Then he is condemned just to making empty, meaningless gestures.

A woman who is told, “You may only love your own husband and not show any interest in anyone else” necessarily will also lose interest in her own husband.

This is how couples lose interest in one another. They argue all the time. They never stop finding new reasons to fight with each other. But the real reason for their disputes is simply that their life energy is not allowed to unfold.

The truth is simply this: that a man who feels drawn to beauty is interested in many women. A woman who is interested in beauty is interested in all possible men. It may be that she is most interested in just one, maybe so much so that she wants to live together with this one person, but this does not mean that her interest in other people simply disappears: it is still there. However, when you go for a walk together with your husband or your wife, and the man says, “look at that woman, she is really beautiful!”, then there is immediate irritation. How can he say such a thing?! But there is nothing wrong with it. You should be happy, that your husband is normal and alive and that his tyres are not yet worn out. You should be happy, that he is still young and fresh, that he is still receptive to beauty. There is no reason to become jealous.

Osho

(I retranslated this from a German source, if anyone has the original let me know!)

Bien plus grave

10 Feb 2007

I found this poem, by Uruguayan writer Mario Benedetti, on another tantric blog in Spanish, I translated it into French which better preserves the rhythm than English – there may be a few mistakes but hopefully not too many 🙂

The message that love rewrites our personal history, restores it to us, and that the infinite is to be found in the particular, is very deep, true and beautiful.

Enjoy!

Toutes les parcelles de ma vie ont quelque chose de toi.
Et, à dire la vérité, cela n’a rien d’étonnant
Tu le sais autant que moi.
Pourtant, je voudrais t’expliquer une chose.
Quand je parle de toutes les parcelles,
Je ne fais pas référence uniquement à ce moment,
Au fait de t’attendre et enfin de te revoir,
De te perdre désespérément,
Et de te revoir encore,
Et voilà tout.
Je ne fais pas référence à ce que tu dis, “je vais pleurer”,
Et c’est moi, un noeud discret à l’arrière-gorge, qui pleure
Et une belle averse invisible s’empare de nous
Et peut-être c’est pour cela que le soleil se lève de suite.
Je ne fais pas seulement référence à comment, jour après jour,
s’augmente le stock de nos petites et décisives complicités,
Ou que je puisse me convaincre de pouvoir convertir mes défaites en victoires,
Ou que tu me fasses le cadeau sournois de ton désespoir le plus récent.
Non.
La chose est bien plus grave.
Quand je dis toutes les parcelles
Je veux dire que, au-delà de ce doux cataclysme,
Tu es en train aussi de réécrire mon enfance,
Cet âge où l’on dit des choses solennelles et adultes,
Et les solennels adultes les célèbrent,
Et tu, par contre, sais que cela ne sert à rien.
Je veux dire que tu es en train de refortifier mon adolescence
Ce temps où j’étais un vieillard comblé d’angoisses,
Et tu sais pourtant retirer de ce désert
Ma graine d’allegresse et l’arroser en la regardant
Je veux dire que tu es en train de secouer ma jeunesse,
Cette cruche que personne n’a jamais prise dans ses mains,
Cette silhouette que personne n’a fait sortir de son ombre,
Et toi, par contre, tu le fais trembler,
Jusqu’à ce que les feuilles sèches commencent à en tomber,
Et il en reste l’ossature de ma vérité dénuée.
Je veux dire que tu es en train d’embrasser ma maturité
Cette mélange d’étonnement et d’expérience
Cette étrange frontière entre l’angoisse et la neige
Cette bougie qui illumine la mort
La précipice de cette pauvre vie.
Comme tu le vois, c’est plus grave,
Bien plus grave,
Parce qu’avec ces mots, ou avec d’autres,
Je veux dire que tu n’es pas seulement
La bien-aimée demoiselle que tu es
Mais tu es aussi toutes les splendides ou hésitantes femmes
Que j’ai aimées ou que j’aime.
Parce que c’est grâce à toi que j’ai découvert
(Tu diras qu’il en était bien temps – et tu n’auras pas tort)
Que l’amour est comme une baie, belle et généreuse,
Qui s’illumine et qui s’éteint au rythme de la vie.
Une baie où les bateaux viennent et s’en vont.
Ils arrivent avec des oiseaux et des promesses,
Et ils s’en vont avec les sirènes et sous la grisaille.
Une belle et généreuse baie,
Où les bateaux viennent et s’en vont.
Mais toi,
S’il te plait,
Ne t’en vas pas.