A Wonderful Sense of Freedom

I ran across this quote from Robert Ingersoll this morning.I cannot improve on it, he's expresses what I feel perfectly.

"Religion can never reform mankind because religion is slavery. It is far better to be free, to leave the forts and barricades of fear, to stand erect and face the future with a smile. It is far better to give yourself sometimes to negligence, to drift with wave and tide, with the blind force of the world, to think and dream, to forget the chains and limitations of the breathing life, to forget purpose and object, to lounge in the picture gallery of the brain, to feel once more the clasps and kisses of the past, to bring life's morning back, to see again the forms and faces of the dead, to paint fair pictures for the coming years, to forget all Gods, their promises and threats, to feel within your veins life's joyous stream and hear the martial music, the rhythmic beating of your fearless heart. And then to rouse yourself to do all useful things, to reach with thought and deed the ideal in your brain, to give your fancies wing, that they, like chemist bees, may find art's nectar in the weeds of common things, to look with trained and steady eyes for facts, to find the subtle threads that join the distant with the now, to increase knowledge, to take burdens from the weak, to develop the brain, to defend the right, to make a palace for the soul. This is real religion. This is real worship"
— Robert G. Ingersoll

The Religion of Yoga

I did yoga practically everyday for years. A little yoga, then a meditation session, was the "spiritual" way to start the day. The fact that the warm, fuzzy feelings produced by doing this evaporated as the day went on didn't discourage me, I just assumed I needed to put more effort into my "practice".

I didn't want to pay good money to go to yoga classes, so for the first few years I practiced at home. But when I moved back to my hometown over 10 years ago I found a class at a church just a few blocks away, and the teacher only asked for a $5 donation. She was a sweet person and I loved the way she taught, but after attending for a year or so my schedule changed and I was no longer able to go. I found another teacher who I liked even better, and she only charged $4 for her classes! She was very down to earth, and didn't put on a spiritual air like many instructors do. But once again my work schedule changed and I had to give up her classes.

It was around this time that I began questioning my meditation practice, and opening up to the idea that there is nothing spiritual I need to strive for. I had moved on to another yoga class by this time, but a shoulder injury caused me to give it up, and I was too lazy to continue a practice at home. It's been 2 or 3 years since I've been to a yoga class.

Now, as I think back to the yoga classes I attended, I can see how religious they were. There were certain assumptions that were presented, such as the idea that yoga was an ancient spiritual practice, for example. The Sanskrit names of the poses (asanas) gave an exotic cachet to the class, and the music being played was usually of an Eastern flavor. The gentle voice of the teacher helped to put us in a calm mood. Put together, all these things served to make us feel that we were doing something spiritual, something that would bring us in touch with our center, our souls. We would leave the class feeling warm, happy and perhaps a tad bit superior.

At times I think about getting back into a personal yoga practice. But I don't want to call it yoga--why not just call it stretching? Despite what yoga practitioners are taught, the postures of yoga were invented just over 100 years ago in India, influenced by British exercise culture. That's right, a Western fitness practice is the true source of modern yoga! I want to take this back full circle, and do some gentle stretching to get my body back in shape, in a matter-of-fact way, with no spirituality and no Sanskrit required!

There is actually a modern Western innovation to the practice of yoga that I am interested in, and it's called Yin Yoga. The poses have English names, and are geared to stretching connective tissue rather than muscles. No chanting or instructions that focus on spirituality, and best of all, it's practiced on the floor! If I do manage to get the habit of daily stretching established, this is the direction I will go, doing poses that feel good and increase my flexibility.

A nice yin yoga posture.

The Problem With Pleasure

"Stranger, here you will do well to tarry; here our highest good is pleasure. The caretaker of that abode, a kindly host, will be ready for you; he will welcome you with bread, and serve you water also in abundance, with these words: "Have you not been well entertained? This garden does not whet your appetite; but quenches it."
[Gate Inscription at Epicurus' Garden]

I always had a problem with pleasure in my religious and spiritual days. Oh, I always loved pleasure, don't get me wrong, and that was the problem, as I had been taught. If something was pleasant, it was suspect--it would either lead me away from God, or lead me away from the path to Awakening. The spiritual path was one of discipline, self-abnegation, doing "God's will" which was usually the opposite of what I wanted. There was always a struggle going on in my life, and I usually just gave in to my desires, suffering guilt and regret as a consequence.

Now, neither spiritual or religious, I still sometimes find myself leery of pleasure. Though I try to live an enjoyable, happy life, it is sometimes hard to let go of the self-contempt I felt for a long time in the past as I seek pleasure and comfort. I have to keep reminding myself that as a human, I am the result of a process of evolution that has used pleasure to ensure the survival of the species, and so seeking pleasurable states is truly hard-wired in our brains. It is not a flaw, but an integral part of what it means to be a human.

I have been enjoying reading about the philosophy of Epicurus lately. His view on pleasure is not hedonism, as he has been accused of since he founded the Garden. He teaches his followers to find joy in simple pleasures: a meal, shared with friends; conversations with like-minded people; living a simple life surrounded by the beauties of nature; living free of what society claims is important.  This is the life for me! I can enjoy the simple things that bring me pleasure, and I can use a philosophical approach to discover what pleasures are truly helpful as I live my life.

Ironically, as I relax and allow myself to enjoy the simple pleasures that are close at hand, I am less likely to over-indulge in the things I once did. I find myself happy with much less, and find pleasure in many different ways, being free from the addiction of needing certain things to be happy.

Epicurus taught that the goal in life is ataraxia, tranquility, freedom from pain, distress and worry. Finding the pleasures that lead to ataraxia is how to live ones life, it is not a way of mindless self-indulgence or selfishness. It is a simple way, but it also requires that one become introspective, and question whether the action one takes will lead to ataraxia, or not. It is the life of a happy philosopher, a fulfilled human being, as one learns to give up the worries and pains that our society so often inflicts upon us. A very worthwhile goal, in my opinion.

Too Long Away

It's been a year and three months since I've added anything to this blog. It's not because my beliefs have changed: if anything, I am even more confident in my skepticism. I guess the need to think things out by writing them down has become less important, though I do have a journal that I write in from time to time. Perhaps the desire to come back to this blog is becoming strong enough so that I will begin to write again--who knows!

For now, I would like to share this wonderful passage that I just found online.

“When I became convinced that the Universe is natural – that all the ghosts and gods are myths, there entered into my brain, into my soul, into every drop of my blood, the sense, the feeling, the joy of freedom. The walls of my prison crumbled and fell, the dungeon was flooded with light and all the bolts, and bars, and manacles became dust. I was no longer a servant, a serf or a slave. There was for me no master in all the wide world -- not even in infinite space. I was free -- free to think, to express my thoughts -- free to live to my own ideal -- free to live for myself and those I loved -- free to use all my faculties, all my senses -- free to spread imagination's wings -- free to investigate, to guess and dream and hope -- free to judge and determine for myself -- free to reject all ignorant and cruel creeds, all the "inspired" books that savages have produced, and all the barbarous legends of the past -- free from popes and priests -- free from all the "called" and "set apart" -- free from sanctified mistakes and holy lies -- free from the fear of eternal pain -- free from the winged monsters of the night -- free from devils, ghosts and gods. For the first time I was free. There were no prohibited places in all the realms of thought -- no air, no space, where fancy could not spread her painted wings -- no chains for my limbs -- no lashes for my back -- no fires for my flesh -- no master's frown or threat – no following another's steps -- no need to bow, or cringe, or crawl, or utter lying words. I was free. I stood erect and fearlessly, joyously, faced all worlds.

And then my heart was filled with gratitude, with thankfulness, and went out in love to all the heroes, the thinkers who gave their lives for the liberty of hand and brain -- for the freedom of labor and thought -- to those who fell on the fierce fields of war, to those who died in dungeons bound with chains -- to those who proudly mounted scaffold's stairs -- to those whose bones were crushed, whose flesh was scarred and torn -- to those by fire consumed -- to all the wise, the good, the brave of every land, whose thoughts and deeds have given freedom to the sons of men. And then I vowed to grasp the torch that they had held, and hold it high, that light might conquer darkness still.”
― Robert G. Ingersoll

Christmas Eve

Tonight a friend and I attended a Christmas Eve candlelight service at the neighborhood Presbyterian church.  It was a rather spur-of-the-moment decision to go there, but it turned out to be a good experience for the two of us.  Carols were sung, prayers were said, a sermon was given, and communion was offered.  I was pleased to realize that I finally have enough distance between my former beliefs and my current state of mind to be able to enjoy the service tonight as something interesting to experience in a detached way, as an anthropologist would observe a tribal ritual.  I did not feel the need to cringe at all the god language, or have to restrain myself from a lot of eye-rolling at the beliefs expressed by the pastor.    I happily joined in the singing of the Christmas carols that I remembered from my childhood and just let the rest of the service glide over me.  There was an awkward moment that occurred after my friend and I did not go forward to communion: thinking that perhaps we were not able to go to the front of the sanctuary, they brought the communion to our pew and we had to shake our heads "no".  But the moment passed, the candles were lit and the lights dimmed as we sang "Silent Night".  A nice feeling of contentment arose as I joined the congregation in softly singing the simple words of this song.  I'm glad I allowed myself this experience, and happy that any sort of anger, bitterness, or disappointment that I may have had in the past over my early religious beliefs, is gone.

It truly is a silent night, filled with the wonder of just being alive.

Assumptions

This morning, as I was sitting and pondering, I began looking at some of the assumptions I lived my life by in the past:

a. There is a spiritual realm that we can't see, but that is more "real" than this material world.
b. There is someone in control of both realms of existence.
c.  I am flawed/sinful/sick, and need saving/fixed/healed by this someone, because I do not have the power to do it myself.
d.  I need someone else (friend, lover, guru, deity) to make me complete.
e.  I have to hide my true feelings from others, because they will not like me if I am honest and uninhibited.

I learned these most of these assumptions through the study and practice of religion. It has taken many years for these assumptions to lose their power, though I still struggle with that last one!  Being free of a supernatural worldview has led to a contentment that I used to seek, but never could find, following a religion or spiritual practice.  I love the phrase "comfortable in my own skin", that really describes the sense of happiness I feel so much of the time these days.

Another phrase I've come to love: "giving myself permission".  I give myself permission to follow new interests, seek new joys, feel anger or other "negative' emotions that I used to feel guilty about.  I am what I am, and no longer have to wish I was otherwise.

Non-Attachment

A Buddhist publishing company sent me this quote in an email this morning:

The good renounce (attachment for) everything.
The virtuous do not prattle with a yearning for pleasures.
The wise show no elation or depression
when touched by happiness or sorrow.

Dhammapada 6.83


Egads, no wonder I never felt like I was a good Buddhist, with such a unattainable goal I was presented with!  But for years I told myself that this was the ultimate state of mind, being non-attached, with no extremes of elation or depression, and no hankering after pleasures.  Since I could never live up to this standard, I at least consoled myself with the hope that in my next life I would move closer to the goal.

But now, I question what I formerly felt was the ultimate state.  Is this even achievable?  Perhaps, if a person becomes a monastic, spends most of every day meditating, and living apart from society.  And if a person, after years of strenuous effort, attains this state of mind, what then?  Teaching others to follow the same path they walked?

I guess I really just question the whole idea of Enlightenment, or Awakening, as it has been presented in Buddhism.  To be free from suffering, the "Three Poisons" of greed, hatred, and delusion have to be "snuffed out" (one of the definitions of the word "Nirvana").  But has anyone really become free of these afflictions?  We are taught that the Buddha did, but how can we really be sure?  That was 2500 years ago, in a completely different culture from ours.  Religious views, rituals and practices grew up around what the Buddha is said to have taught, and there is no way we can really know what his message was, or how it has been changed by the monastic order, who have always skewed things toward maintaining needed support from the lay community.

I do think that we can, to a certain extent, lessen the hold that negative qualities have on ourselves, through meditation, or contemplation, or working on adjusting our attitudes to be more in line with reality.  But denying ourselves loving relationships, or pleasures, or trying to escape from the normal feelings of joy, or sorrow, that we experience in our daily lives, is not necessary, or even possible.

It all comes back to this--being honest with myself, whether I am craving something, or rejecting something else, loving someone or feeling angry and hateful towards someone else.  Feeling those emotions, but learning how to control how I choose to express, or not express, them.  This is not Enlightenment, but it's good enough for me.