I Believe

Why believe in that which has no evidence?

I find this a profound question. Why do people believe in the irrational?

I have dealt with this question in one of my articles on religion. People are eager to brand the darkness as divine. For example, one belief I commonly encounter is about the creation of the universe. Some believe in intelligent design... that is, some “intelligent” chap up there carving out the intricate structure of this wonderful universe. Others believe in the Big Bang. What do I believe in? … Neither. My reluctance to believe in this regard stems from the inadequacy of either theory in answering certain basic questions like what existed before the Universe? Nothing… my father once said. I remember being dumbstruck by the sudden omnipresence of NOTHING. “What is nothing?” I remember having asked him as a 12 year old. I am still fascinated by this concept! I do not understand it yet and don’t pretend that I do.

That brings me back to the question… Why do others want to believe so fervently and so urgently in something at the cost of rationality?

It could be a feeling of insecurity at being surrounded by mystery. A few might ask… “Aren’t we always surrounded by mystery?” Others will say… “That is the mystery of god”. I feel this feeling of insecurity grows from a deep feeling of inadequacy with one’s own existence. The fact that YOU exist doesn’t give you enough courage to embrace life with all its mysteries.

Another possible explanation for this could be the reluctance to shoulder the responsibility to face all these mysteries with a sense of curiosity… that I feel is natural to any life form. One must find an answer to every question! We don’t stop until we do find our answers. When they don’t… they make a grave error… They create an answer. People will enthusiastically believe this fabricated shred that I see as an excuse to mask their lack of courage.

I am a dot on this world. My existence may not make any difference to anyone. What is most important is that it makes a difference to me.

I believe in many things. Every one of these beliefs is founded on reason and open to challenges and change. Sometimes, I must admit, I crave to be challenged.

Another Bhutto dead

I really can't come up with anything when I ask myself what the halcyon days of Pakistani politics have been. It's pathetic watching the television relaying images of people crying their hearts out, destroying public property, automobiles, human lives and of course... Musharaff's support groups.

What were these people crying for? what were they angry with? with the extinguished flame of the "last" hope for democracy in Pakistan? I'm sure there are people who are devastated by this. But, would it drive them to mindless vandalism?

Around 30 people were killed by the suicide bomber. Another 30 were killed by rampaging mobs after the incident. I am tempted to ask myself... which is the greater evil?

Imran Khan seems to have his nuts and bolts in the right place when he says that though this is a devastating loss, there are steps that must be taken from here to continue the movement towards democracy. It starts with Musharraf relinquishing power and an independent judiciary conducting a detailed inquiry into this matter followed by elections as scheduled.

Compare this to Nawaz Sharif who appears sullen and (almost) weeping on the television declaring that this is the worst day in the history of Pakistani Politics (I wouldn't attest to that!) and that he will boycott the elections.

I ask people such as him... Is that in the spirit of a struggle towards democracy? Is that what is called for to transform Pakistan from a dictatorial regime of an inefficient General to a robust democracy?

However, the mobs don't really care much about a dictatorship or a democracy or anything productive for that matter. They seem to be driven by a single minded desire to destroy anything holding a promise to progress simply because it is beautiful... simply because it stands for all that is great in this world.

Democracy, in my opinion, is not the most efficient political framework for a nation. I prefer a dictatorial regime with regard to power over the protection and sustenance of civil society and a purely capitalistic and democratic model to the operation of the economy.

However, I have a stipulation that negates the efficacy of this model in most real-world scenarios. The dictator must be a woman or man of intelligence, courage and integrity. To be honest, Putin gets the closest (though not anywhere near being close enough) to these requirements amongst most dictators that exist today.

"Benazir Bhutto, the Martyr!" people will cry...
and the few that truly understand
will only crack their knuckles and sigh.

The sounds of music

"Nothing could teach you something" he heard as he swerved with the rhythms of the car that blazes along a road set against the dark sky, lights twinkling in the distance. He emerged from the endless sounds of music and conversation. He saw their lips part forming new words, he saw their eyes speaking more than their lips ever could. He saw their intentions and their masks. He saw through them.

Beautiful masks they were. He enjoyed the sight of them. He enjoyed the texture of their mood. But, he knew the texture of their being and decides to remain at the surface.

What does a man do when he refuses to play along with the currents of the river beating against him? Not because he doesn't like being carried by the river because he knows where it goes. He basks instead in the sensation of having the waves caress his chest and the breeze cooling his brow.

He dives instead into the texture of the words rather than the meaning they evoke. Because the meanings will disappoint him. He has been down that current before.

The moments spent by the river bank were soothing indeed. He decides to emerge from that feeling and walk back into the wilderness.

"One could learn a lot from such superficial conversation". Of course, I thought... I learned how to enjoy them. I learned what I enjoy most. I learned that people tend to be strongest when they move in packs. I learned that I tend to be strongest simply knowing that I am who I am.

Why MAKE conversation? Why do people see it as an asset? Why do people gather knowledge only to be able to continue MAKING conversation? Why do they want to be accepted by others? Why don't they accept themselves? Why do they not say and do whatever they want to say or do? Why do they bother about the response from another? Why are they worried about losing companionship? Why are they afraid of being alone? Why don't they love themselves enough?

I find the pretentious interactions amusing! Almost like they are trying desperately to entertain others and themselves. I must agree... observing this certainly entertains me!

Some people have souls that protest vigorously amidst all the clamor. But alas, their lips helplessly add to it.

How fortunate for me to have a home for myself in my own being from where I can sit peacefully observing these undercurrents.

Bible studies 1 - Sexual Relations

I was privileged to be given the holy bible a few months ago. Untouched books make me itch and as a result, i chose to begin my excursion through these crisp pages written thousands of years ago by a bunch of people who have, to a large extent, steered the social currents of the world.

The copy that I own has a very handy list of subjects at the end that gives the reader the exact location of the Bible's take on a whole array of issues. Oh yeah! God was extremely opinionated!

"Homosexuality" caught my eye. You can blame it on my proclivity for the provocative.

Anyway, as my eyes were hovering over the all the "Do not's" indoctrinated in Leviticus, Ch. 18 caught my eye. "Unlawful Sexual Relations", speaks about everything you must not do with regard to the cravings of your genitals.

I would rather title this passage as the "Beginners guide Incest and more". I definitely admire the guy's creativity at placing a "Do not" before every possible variation of a sexual relation. Son with mother, Father with daughter, nephew and aunt, daughter-in-law with father-in-law, man with man, neighbors wife, sister-in-law and brother-in-law, animals and humans, amongst others. He seems to have brainstormed this issue thoroughly! It makes me wonder about where the Porn industry might have got most of their brilliant ideas... Interesting!

Those who do experience attraction for someone from within the family or for the same sex is bound to look at these doctrines and say, "God says it is wrong. So, my desire at this point is wrong. That makes me a sinner!". A more pragmatic approach for this person would be, "Great! God says it is wrong. Firstly, why should I trust Leviticus with knowing God's will and secondly, God doesn't bother giving any explanations other than death threats and a very handy reassurance that he is my God".

The first person will land up prostrate in a church begging for forgiveness. The second guy will probably shut the bible and meet a psychologist who will probably tell him that sexual desires are human and natural. However, consider the social system and the biological and psychological impact of an action based on such an instinct before indulging in it.

Homosexuality, for instance, is one of those acts that draws the rage of God. In Leviticus 20:13, it is written "If a man lies with a man as one lies with a woman, both of them have done what is detestable. They must be put to death; their blood will be on their own heads."

A gruesome end to any inappropriate romance for sure! This death threat has been given profusely through most of this chapter sometimes explicitly mentioning method of inflicting this death as well. Burning these folk and stoning them to death are apparently God's favorite techniques.

In the Romans 1:18-32, I find a logical fallacy culminating to the same damnation of those who give in to their "impure" thoughts. The passage says that in the beginning God made himself quite clearly known to mankind. He damns those who understand and have the opportunity to understand but try to cover it up with their "wickedness". It goes one by asserting that it is God who "gave them over in the sinful desires of their hearts to sexual impurity for the degrading of their bodies with one another." "God gave them over to shameful lusts." "he gave them over to a depraved mind, to do what ought not to be done".

This makes God sound like an extremely obsessive and substantially retarded bigot. Why?

Firstly, this entire theory is based on the assumption that God made himself adequately clear to mankind. So one has to be either stupid or wicked not to understand his magnificence. Either way, you end up being burnt or stoned for some "shameful" sexual act. If one thinks about it in a little more detail, this sexual act was not done of the victims free will... it was the divine will of God that "gave them over to shameful lusts".

So what have I learned today from the holy gospel?

If I do not recognize God's infinite powers, he will give me over to my base desires leading me to being sexually attracted to one of the many people and animals listed in the Bible after which I should be either burnt to death or pelted with stones until the life drains out of me. Going by this leather bound holy book, this guy (I've always wondered about why God can't be a woman!) called God is a perverted freak! Reminds me of those sadists in some of those porn videos that revolted me as a teenager.

There was more written about Sexual relations in the Bible, but, I've lost my appetite!

Next time, I'll try looking for something less gruesome.

Siddhartha *

What is perfection? What is a balance? What is the essence of "me"? As I begun forming words to express my thoughts, i felt a strange sense of history reiterating the words I was creating in the present. Siddhartha.. Of course! He is the only other person who spoke these very words to me as I would to another.

These are my words through his mouth... a privilege I don't get to use too often.

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"Listen well, my dear, listen well! The sinner, which I am and which you are, is a sinner, but in times to come he will be Brahma again, he will reach the Nirvana, will be Buddha--and now see: these "times to come" are a deception, are only a parable! The sinner is not on his way to become a Buddha, he is not in the process of developing, though our capacity for thinking does not know how else to picture these things. No, within the sinner is now and today already the future Buddha, his future is already all there, you have to worship in him, in you, in everyone the Buddha which is coming into being, the possible, the hidden Buddha. The world, my friend Govinda, is not imperfect, or on a slow path towards perfection: no, it is perfect in every moment, all sin already carries the divine forgiveness in itself, all small children already have the old person in themselves, all infants already have death, all dying people the eternal life. It is nor possible for any person to see how far another one has already progressed on his path; in the robber and dice-gambler, the Buddha is waiting; in the Brahman, the robber is waiting. In deep meditation, there is the possibility to put time out of existence, to see all life which was, is, and will be as if it was simultaneous, and there everything is good, everything is perfect, everything is Brahman. Therefore, I see whatever exists as good, death is to me like life, sin like holiness, wisdom like foolishness, everything has to be as it is, everything only requires my consent, only my willingness, my loving agreement, to be good for me, to do nothing but work for my benefit, to be unable to ever harm me. I have experienced on my body and on my soul that I needed sinbvery much, I needed lust, the desire for possessions, vanity, and needed the most shameful despair, in order to learn how to give up all resistance, in order to learn how to love the world, in order to stop comparing it to some world I wished, I imagined, some kind of perfection I had made up, but to leave it as it is and to love it and to enjoy being a part of it.--These, oh Govinda, are some of the thoughts which have come into my mind."

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"Bent down to me!" he whispered quietly in Govinda's ear. "Bend down to me! Like this, even closer! Very close! Kiss my forehead, Govinda!"

But while Govinda with astonishment, and yet drawn by great love and expectation, obeyed his words, bent down closely to him and touched his forehead with his lips, something miraculous happened to him. While his thoughts were still dwelling on Siddhartha's wondrous words, while he was still struggling in vain and with reluctance to think away time, to imagine Nirvana and Sansara as one, while even a certain contempt for the words of his friend was fighting in him against an immense love and veneration, this happened to him:

He no longer saw the face of his friend Siddhartha, instead he saw other faces, many, a long sequence, a flowing river of faces, of hundreds, of thousands, which all came and disappeared, and yet all seemed to be there simultaneously, which all constantly changed and renewed themselves, and which were still all Siddhartha. He saw the face of a fish, a carp, with an infinitely painfully opened mouth, the face of a dying fish, with fading eyes--he saw the face of a new-born child, red and full of wrinkles, distorted from crying--he saw the face of a murderer, he saw him plunging a knife into the body of another person--he saw, in the same second, this criminal in bondage, kneeling and his head being chopped off by the executioner with one blow of his sword--he saw the bodies of men and women, naked in positions and cramps of frenzied love--he saw corpses stretched out, motionless, cold, void-- he saw the heads of animals, of boars, of crocodiles, of elephants, of bulls, of birds--he saw gods, saw Krishna, saw Agni--he saw all of these figures and faces in a thousand relationships with one another, each one helping the other, loving it, hating it, destroying it, giving re-birth to it, each one was a will to die, a passionately painful confession of transitoriness, and yet none of then died, each one only transformed, was always re-born, received evermore a new face, without any time having passed between the one and the other face--and all of these figures and faces rested, flowed, generated themselves, floated along and merged with each other, and they were all constantly covered by something thin, without individuality of its own, but yet existing, like a thin glass or ice, like a transparent skin, a shell or mold or mask of water, and this mask was smiling, and this mask was Siddhartha's smiling face, which he, Govinda, in this very same moment touched with his lips. And, Govinda saw it like this, this smile of the mask, this smile of oneness above the flowing forms, this smile of simultaneousness above the thousand births and deaths, this smile of Siddhartha was precisely the same, was precisely of the same kind as the quiet, delicate, impenetrable, perhaps benevolent, perhaps mocking, wise, thousand-fold smile of Gotama, the Buddha, as he had seen it himself with great respect a hundred times. Like this, Govinda knew, the perfected ones are smiling.

Not knowing any more whether time existed, whether the vision had lasted a second or a hundred years, not knowing any more whether there existed a Siddhartha, a Gotama, a me and a you, feeling in his innermost self as if he had been wounded by a divine arrow, the injury of which tasted sweet, being enchanted and dissolved in his innermost self, Govinda still stood for little while bent over Siddhartha's quiet face, which he had just kissed, which had just been the scene of all manifestations, all transformations, all existence. The face was unchanged, after under its surface the depth of the thousandfoldness had closed up again, he smiled silently, smiled quietly and softly, perhaps very benevolently, perhaps very mockingly, precisely as he used to smile, the exalted one.

Deeply, Govinda bowed; tears, he knew nothing of, ran down his old face; like a fire burnt the feeling of the most intimate love, the humblest veneration in his heart. Deeply, he bowed, touching the ground, before him who was sitting motionlessly, whose smile reminded him of everything he had ever loved in his life, what had ever been valuable and holy to him in his life."

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* Hesse, Hermann, Siddhartha, 1992