Sunday 8 April 2001

Pic of the day: Lonesome cloud.

Between Heaven and Earth

In Bhagavad-Gita, Arjuna asks Krishna: "What happens to one who seeks spirituality but fails? Will he not lose out in both the material and spiritual world, and disintegrate like a cloud torn apart?"

I guess this is how it may seem for some, and particularly for those who are fully bound in the material world, in their possessions and their hope of satisfaction through purely physical means. But myself I do not think so. Looking back, I do not think I have traded away much. If anything, I suspect I would have been deeply unhappy if I did not recognize my spiritual needs. Certainly some of the best things in my life have been, in some way, spiritual.

At the same time, I believe that this is a real material world. Not just an illusion, a kind of dream, a virtual reality. We are in the material world for a reason; and the reason is not just to escape from here. If that were so, we would not have been placed here in the first instance. We are children of both heaven and earth, and as such it is no wonder that we sometimes find ourselves uncomfortably suspended between the two. Then again, I may be wrong.

***

When I was a child, I was much like other children, only smaller and weaker and smarter. I was playful, greedy, needy and curious. I had my pride and I defended it fiercely, but of course in vain: For I was just a child, and I pegged my pride on the impression I could make on others, rather than on a sense of self-worth as a sentient being.

I left home when I was 15, to go to high school in Egersund. It was a good time for me. And yet it was a turbulent time for me. At first I was my old self, but with a religious interest. I had come into contact with "Smith's Friends", a group of christian mystics (or rather their descendants, spiritually but more and more often physically). I spent a lot of time studying their lore and the Bible, rather than doing my homework. As a consequence of this, my grades improved dramatically.

Yes, I mean what I wrote. At least it seemed that way to me: The more energy I put into my spiritual searching, the easier did worldly challenges seem to me. Of course, it was not a trouble-free activity, to turn inward the way I did. Often I felt overwhelmed by emotions. I shivered in fear, and I cried quite a bit. Sometimes I felt that I was wandering in the dark, and more than dark: It's like you walk along the highway and the headlights of the meeting cars blind you, so the light seems worse than the dark. But over time, I changed. (Incidentally, my health improved too.)

I live this life only once. There is no way I can truly know what would have happened if I had ignored my spiritual needs, or if I had never met this group of pious mystics. (Or indeed, if my brother had not met them.) It may be that my grades would have improved anyway after my somewhat late puberty, as my brain restructured. Then again, maybe not. History shows us that mystics tend to have a clearer, more efficient mind.

***

I finished my studies - or rather, I dropped out, but in a worthy manner - and I got myself a job. I found places to live (I moved around a lot in that time) and I learned the ropes of adult life. My christian friends were very tolerant of unusual behavior, even though they tended to try to live as normal as their religion allowed themselves. A central tenet in their faith is to never judge or condemn anyone, but leave it to God who knows better. So I got only rather vague hints that my lifestyle was a bit unusual, and I cheerfully ignored this. In many ways I lived on the surface of the world, not fully immersed in it. I wanted to become a god, after all, and "human" was a snide remark at best.

My mind was energetic, but quite small and cramped. There were so many things that I did not even consider. I was like a chicken in the egg, curled up, and the pressure became more and more uncomfortable. I had more and more panic attacks, which is usually a sign that I'm doing something wrong. Then I resigned myself to the fact that I would never live a normal life, such as is normal to that congregation, with a wife and children and a large house, all the stuff. I like women, I like children (not in the same way) and for much of my life I have liked houses too. There was even a time when I liked cars. But this life was not for me. Instead, I delved once again into the depths of the mind, prompted by the books of Carl Gustav Jung. In particular, I guess it was his utterly scary "Answer to Job" that changed my life. I still do not recommend christians to read the book. It could easily kill your faith. As could I, now that I think about it. Be careful. But I think the book is worse.

What happened was that a final piece snapped into place in my worldview. I saw the connection between spirit and soul. Between the transcendent, non-personal ideas and the personal software in each of our brains. That the soul is not the spiritual world, even though we may feel that way. No, the soul is to the spirit what the body is to the soul, or what a house is to its those who live there. When we look inward in ourselves, we do not see directly into the spirit world, but we see the shadows that the spirit world casts on the walls of our soul. How much tragedy has this world seen, because each believer clings to his mental image of God and says: "This is the true God!" No, it is your image of God, and it is fallible like you, not perfect like God.

***

As my regular readers know, I have spent the last years on a quest to reconcile myself with the world. I don't mean the caricature of "the World" as used in everyday christian terminology, where the World represents an orgy of sin and a fully materialist mindset. That would hardly even be possible for me. But I am curious as to what a human life is, and I wish to learn to know it from other sources than myself. And if I can offer anything in return, so much the better.

My existence in this world is short and fleeting. If I were to live it like a dog or a pig, just chasing my earthly needs, then it lacks all meaning to me. But twice in my life, something broke inside me. First, it was like something was conceived. Then, it was like something was hatched. First, something began to grow. Then, the world expanded. And like the universe according to the Big Bang theory, it still expands at immense speed. My inner world grew from a prison cell to a vast kingdom, then to entire galaxies, its boundaries far out of reach and out of sight. If I were indeed to live forever, I know that I would not be bored or cease to be intrigued. For there are no bounds.