Tag Archives: Religion and Spirituality

Numinous and Ineffable

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Have you ever thought about or had the desire to escape the mundane and sometimes harsh realities of everyday existence?  I don’t mean simply taking a road trip to Disneyworld but to actually transcend existence, leave the physical world behind and enter the realm of the numinous and ineffable.

Of course one problem might be that even if one could figure out how to get there this extra-physical place might not be all that pleasant, it being numinous and ineffable and all, but I was thinking, if I could go there it certainly would help put things into perspective.  I could view problems that seem to be so important and urgent in the here and now in a detached manner that, it seems to me, might be beneficial to my well-being as well as to finding solutions to those problems.

I was reading that certain shamans can make such a journey; they enter into an ecstatic state and actually leave their bodies to journey with their spirit helpers to the land of the dead where they can find answers to important questions that only the dead can answer.

Apparently in order to get to this point a shaman has to undergo some fairly extreme procedures.  Among the Buryat people of Siberia the future shaman must die and have his flesh scraped from his bones and his organs removed and then be reconstructed and reanimated by the spirit forces in order to gain the power to make his passage to the numinous and ineffable land of the dead.

I’m just not sure, as much as I’d like to see what the numinous and ineffable looks like, that I’m prepared to accept such a sacrifice even though my bodily transformation would probably have more to do with melted plastic than bone scraping.

I guess, for me, the numinous and ineffable will have to remain numinous and ineffable.

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Beyond the Grave

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I see by the calendar Dia de Muertos, the Day of the Dead, is approaching.  Death isn’t something dolls, particularly plastic ones, think about very much but at this time of the year, with nature racing toward dormancy, the topic tends to come to mind.

In medieval times death was on everyone’s mind daily.  The Black Plague invited Death to be a regular visitor if not a live-in house guest.  She became so well-known she starred in a regularly performed play called the Danse Macabre.  In the play the Black Angel would appear and along with her spirit helpers the psychopomps  invite victims to accompany them beyond the grave; the beyond being, I guess, a promised land of paradise.

Throughout history (and even earlier than that I bet) people have sensed an existence beyond the grave:  The ancient Egyptians conceived of a Ka or immaterial double that would live on after the demise of the physical body so the deceased would be able to keep doing the same fun things they had always done when alive.

The philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer was inclined to believe that, upon death, an individual’s will or essence of being would be reunited with it’s Cosmic origins: a sort of collective world soul (Plato called it the anima mundi) from which all life originates and subsequently returns; it’s a pretty cool idea of togetherness even though one wouldn’t really be aware of it because one’s memory and ego would cease to exist.

The Hindu people understand the universe to be eternal and that rebirth will continue to happen until enlightenment of the soul propels a leap into the infinite, which, I guess must be a bit like Arthur’s cosmic origins only they call it the Atman.

Contemporary Trans-humanists anticipate a situation in which one’s brain activity is downloaded to a computer and since the brain is where one’s being resides one can expect to live on forever provided someone is around to keep the batteries charged.

I’m sure I’m like everyone else in hoping the Black Angel stays away for a while but when it does come time for me to leave the realm of the physical, wherever  I end up, I hope I will have left behind a reasonably positive image for my friends to remember me by.

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Accomplishment

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I spent a couple of hours cleaning my Notre Dame playhouse the other day.  It was quite a mess; hadn’t been organized for some time.  I straightened the pews, relighted the votive candles, moved the priest from the sacristy to the confessional, replenished the Holy Water and separated the Brothers and Sisters (for some reason they always seem to end up together).  I did all the things necessary to put a cathedral in good order.

When I finished I considered what I’d done and thought it was quite an accomplishment-maybe not on the scale of actually building Notre Dame-but still it was something.

Wasn’t it?

Okay, so what does it mean to accomplish something?  Does accomplishment occur if no one knows about it?  And, as soon as someone finds out does judgment occur?  And, then, if the accomplishment is deemed worthy do accolades follow?  I doubt the Buddha meant, when he said to his disciples: ‘accomplishment is transient; strive unremittingly’, that they should pursue an ego boost.

The Stoics were pretty sure finding yourself in favor (which is certainly what would happen if people thought you did something good) wasn’t a good thing; once favored the only direction to go is down.

Well no one will probably know about my cathedral dollhouse cleaning anyway; it’s stuck back in a corner of the den.  People rarely come by now that little Bobby entered the seminary.

So I guess I needn’t fear recognition for my accomplishment.  But, I suppose I could take a few photos just to remember how nice it looks once it gets messy again.  But, then, someone might see the photos and nominate me for the Good Playhouse Keeping Award.  Then I’d be expected to keep it clean all the time and if I didn’t people would think I was a messy doll.

Boy, those old guys sure knew what they were talking about.

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Fishers of Men

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I’ve been wondering lately about what happened to the indigenous tribal groups that used to be so prevalent in the desert southwest.  Apparently, in the 16th century Spanish explorers along with Christian missionaries sailed westward to claim lands in the new world.  When they came across native populations the missionaries immediately set about trying to convert them believing they had the true path to salvation even though the indigenous people didn’t particularly feel the need to be saved since their own religions , which they had been practicing for thousands of years, worked pretty well.

There was one tribal group in northern Mexico, the Tarahumara people, who listened to the missionaries’ stories, then thought about it and changed things around so that God was married to the Virgin Mary and the Devil was God’s brother.

Well, I guess this didn’t sit too well with the missionaries because then they told the Tarahamara’s that if they didn’t believe in the true God and help build a mission they would surely go to Hell.  So the people went along and built a chapel so the missionaries could hold religious events but they still secretly consulted the local Shaman when they had serious questions to put before the ancestral spirits.

The missionaries, however, were unrelenting.  Before long they had the people working 9 to 5 in the mission gardens and were re-educating the children in the mission schools.

As sad as this story is I guess there is a bright side.  The gaming industry has been a God send for many native peoples.  I suppose you could call it Montezuma’s revenge.

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Age of Aquarius

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My friend Astrid and I were planning to get together recently when she called to say she couldn’t leave the house.

Astrid is a strong believer in the efficacy of the Astral Plane as an indicator of future events.  She had just found out Saturn was entering her seventh house signaling Saturday, our planned meeting day, an inauspicious time to socialize.  Better, she said, not to tempt fate.

I thought about this for a while.  It all sounded pretty new-agie to me, but I decided to give Astrid the benefit of the doubt and found my birth chart on-line.

As you might imagine determining the exact time and date of my extrusion wasn’t easy.  The year was printed on the bottom of my left shoe; I consulted my keeper as to purchase date, estimated delivery time and took into account the slight flaw on my shoulder as an indicator of a rush job probably done shortly before the end of workday.

Anyway, my chart indicated among other things the moon was in Aquarius just passing into my eighth house.  What this suggested was my head was full of original ideas but that I would have the tendency to be selfish and blunt.

Being the skeptic I am I called Pearl.  We went out and had quite a good time.  I thought I was quite a pleasant companion until Pearl told me she hadn’t noticed the smear on my shoulder before.  I responded by telling her she wasn’t exactly Miss America herself.

Pearl just shrugged off the comment but it definitely got me thinking:  I wonder what will happen when the moon is in the seventh house and Jupiter aligns with Mars?  Will peace guide the planets and love steer the stars?

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Hypocrisy

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I was visiting with Granny Applehead the other day.  She was waxing nostalgic about her days in secondary school.  She remembers each day began with students rising from their seats, putting hands to hearts and pledging allegiance to the flag.  No one really questioned the validity of the activity back then but, she said, as she thinks about it in retrospect it was pretty clear there was strong intention to instill in young minds a religious sense of nationalistic propriety: America, land of the free and brave has God on her side.

She surmised it was easier back then when everyone was pretty well on the same page regarding God and country.  There were a lot fewer people asking the big questions.

I guess explanation can be found in the post-WWII politics of the times and dealing with godless Communism.  You know, prep these young minds for Holy Wars to come.

Social critique has tempered the blatant flag waving.  The mind manipulation of the young is subtler now but it’s pretty clear we still think of ourselves as being in God’s favor; ready and willing to impose our beliefs and life-style on the rest of the world.

Granny just shakes her head at what she sees as the hypocrisy of our self-perceived sense of fairness and equality for all: as long as everyone conforms to our values and beliefs.

On my way home I was thinking about what the world would be like if everyone was like me: skeptical seekers, always questioning, investigating the new, comparing the old, reaching toward the limits of one’s capabilities to find what may lay beyond.  As egotistical as it may sound, I can’t see that as being a bad thing in the least.

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The Joys of Doubt

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I had a visit from Pastor Ted recently.  We have quite a congenial relationship so long as we avoid speaking of religion or politics, which is why my ire was elevated a bit when he mentioned he read in one of my posts, that I referred to myself as a skeptical seeker.  That must mean, he surmised, that I was open and susceptible to salvation; a viable candidate for recruitment to his army of the saved.

I truly hate to be drawn into a discussion of this sort since it’s become clear that neither of us has any idea what the other understands to be true in the realm of the spiritual.  I tried to explain once again that for me doubt is the most uplifting of intellectual positions I can imagine; that doubt is the only philosophical option that allows complete freedom of investigation; that doubt is a most joyous state.

Alas, I fear Pastor Ted is so convinced his beliefs are the absolute truth and that anyone who is willing can commit to his beliefs, that he is unable to accept any alternative.

Pastor Ted is an honestly good person and a good friend but I guess, as Dorothy Parker so aptly put it, you can’t teach an old dogma new tricks.

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Sacred Images

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While reading about Byzantine Icons the other day I was amazed to learn that the painter, before he is able to paint one of these Holy Images, has to transcend earthly existence and enter the heavenly realm.  Apparently such a trip will instill the painter with the knowledge necessary to render a truly sacred image.

The resulting object is, only then, understood to be a Holy Relic and a living icon.  The holy personage thus rendered is seen as emanating the light of truth.  As I viewed some of these objects many did seem to have an inner glow.

Well, I had a friend do a painting of me in the style of the icon painters.  I don’t think his work was preceded by any voyage to the Great Beyond so I suppose the resulting icon is disqualified from the realm of ‘living relic.’

As I look at the finished product I can’t quite tell if my image expresses benevolence or self-importance-maybe a bit of each.  I suppose that might very well be consistent with the attitudes of the early church patriarchs who achieved sainthood. The painting does seem to emanate a sort of inner glow.  That may be because my plastic body is a bit translucent.

I showed the painting to the Barbies and they agreed unanimously it did nothing for me whatsoever.

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Illusions of Well-being

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According to the Romanian philosopher Emil Cioran a person would be better off not to have been born.  He determined suffering is the rule in life and there is absolutely nothing anyone can do about it.  All actions, he says, are or will be cause for regret.

The notion of well-being for Emil is an illusion that many people will harbor off and on during their lives but will in the end be unable to sustain.  Apparently Emil thinks it would be better to be, now, where he was before he was born-which is where he must be since he died some years ago.

Not having been born myself, rather, molded in plastic, I’m not sure how to think about Emil’s assertion.  I suppose he does have a point.  As far as I’m concerned my sense of well-being is dependent on the consideration of others, you know, to not step on me, keep me away from aggressive dogs (the ones that like to chew things up), and such.  And, how reliable can I expect that consideration to be; I guess there’s a faith aspect to any sense of well-being I might have.

As far as being better off being where I was before I was molded-in that vat of molten plastic-I suppose there is a sense of Oneness in that.

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Born Again

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For me, I don’t think there’s anything as energizing as the onset of spring.  As the temperature becomes mild, the birds began to sing and the crocuses began to appear I feel my spirits lift.  There’s a sense of rebirth in the air; life reappears after months of dormancy.  In some ways it’s like a religious experience.

My friend Pearl said this idea reminded her of an experience she had while attending a revival meeting a while ago.  She said the evangelist told the congregation that life was suffering because of the guilt of their sins and the only way to overcome the depths of despair, the fear and trembling of existence was to leap into faith and be born again.

Pearl thought about this awhile but being a bit of a skeptic and seeing rebirth wasn’t in her plans for the evening, she decided to pass on the leap and just deal with the despair and absurdity of human existence the best she could.

Well, all I can say is if our existence is essentially despairing and absurd then why do I have spring fever?

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