This kind of hedonistic pursuit of pleasure under the garb of spirituality is a worldwide phenomenon that has brought millions into its fold. There are countless “gurus”, masters, experts and so on who promote this kind of acquisitive spirituality through their discourses, workshops, retreats and books. For practitioners of this faux spirituality, enlightenment is a lofty idea that promises the beneficiary great insights, esoteric power and even otherworldly gains, besides all the material goodies.

Mindless and transactional

I must confess that, for a brief time in my life, I too was drawn towards this “egocentric spirituality”. So I understand why so many fall for its lure. I guess it happens because we are incessantly surrounded by conflicting messages of a decadent culture that is infected with the what’s-in-it-for-me virus. This nearly all-pervasive consumerist culture, fuelled by ever-growing tentacles of the internet, reduces everything to a means to a selfish end. It’s automatic, mindless—no wonder it colours most of our pursuits.

But something about this ethos never felt right to me. It is pretentious, phoney.

Being spiritual in order to gain something—whether it’s a material object, someone’s love and affection, a professional achievement or simply an emotional reward—seems to me to be rather transactional. It is the antithesis of what authentic spirituality is all about. I wonder how different is this paradigm of spirituality than the traditional god of religion who is viewed simply as a personal wish-granter—never mind that we give this spiritual god secular names like the “universe” or “consciousness”?

In his book Cutting Through Spiritual Materialism Chögyam Trungpa, the controversial Tibetan monk and teacher, explains this phenomenon thus: “Walking the spiritual path properly is a very subtle process; it is not something to jump into naively. There are numerous sidetracks which lead to a distorted, ego-centered version of spirituality; we can deceive ourselves into thinking we are developing spiritually when instead we are strengthening our egocentricity through spiritual techniques.”

To be sure, there are often many worldly benefits that may accompany a spiritual pursuit and there’s nothing wrong with enjoying those benefits. What’s disconcerting is when the primary reason for walking the “spiritual” path is for material ends. This is akin to putting the cart before the horse.

How I see authentic spirituality

As I understand it, authentic spirituality has nothing to do with the outer world. It isn’t practised for personal gains; on the contrary it is about losing the false sense of identity that we acquire due to years of programming. Authentic spirituality is about living with greater awareness of self and the world. The true spiritual path is not a “search” in the conventional sense of the word, because there’s nothing [and no one] to find. Instead, it has to do with learning to see reality as it is, and to recognise the truth beyond all concepts.

The thing about authentic spirituality is that I can continue to interact with the world and pursue material goals simultaneously. There is no conflict. The process of discovering who I am is an inner phenomenon. Worldly gains may flow in as a result of such self-inquiry. But all these benefits can be called the happy side-effects of spirituality.

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To do The Work, you will need the Judge Your Neighbour worksheet, which is available for download free. You can also read more The Work of Byron Katie on this website.

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Published by: Simon & Schuster

ISBN: 978-1476785462

Pages: 224

Price: INR 353

When we hear the word “creativity”, visions of paintings, poetry and music float through our minds, our conventional wisdom suggesting that it is a special gift. However, creativity expert Barnet Bain holds the view that everything we do is a process of creativity.

In The Book of Doing and Being, he walks us through a series of over 40 practical exercises while providing eye-opening insights into recognising and reactivating that spark we all possess, that we call creativity, no matter what our job involves.

This is a book best read in small doses. And reading alone is not enough. As the author suggests, the book can be a helpmate in our journey of rediscovering our creative self. Have a journal handy and jot down your thoughts as you work through the exercises in this book.

Starting with a call to become aware of our hurdles to creative expression, the author provides what he calls a Self-Inquiry Practice to help us identify if the barriers to our inspiration are hand-me-downs or self-imposed, i.e. more of a habit than a conscious choice. When we often trust popular culture to give us an understanding of our world, we diminish our originality and eventually suppress our inherent artistry.

Whether it is the way we care for the people we love, or how we brainstorm in a boardroom, we have an innate desire to improve the world in some way, based on our values. The author urges us to jot down a Life Wheel to serve as our values map—a tool for identifying our goals, desires and  priorities, not only in career and finances but also in family life, love life, health, relaxation and spirituality—represented as seven slices in this life wheel. As we tailor this wheel, reflecting on how much attention we would like to give to each slice, we are better able to recognise our deficit areas that need attention.

Life being what it is today, many of us get overwhelmed and stressed. We cope by conjuring up a mixture of thoughts and feelings that numb these powerful emotions, acting like anaesthetics. We learn this numbing mechanism at a young age and rely on it to handle feelings that overpower us. The four emotional anaesthetics—self-pity, blame, guilt and control—work to undermine our creative self. However, if we are cognizant of this fact, we can certainly learn to thrive under distress.

Neuroplasticity, the ability of our brain to form new neural connections at any stage in life, allows us to compensate for injury and disease and reclaim our functions. Similarly, the author proposes Creative Plasticity, an imaginative malleability that welcomes and enhances creative flow. The four exercises in this chapter essentially serve to rewire the brain through relaxation. Be it mindful breathing to promote alpha brain waves, or a nap, or a nature walk, or a sojourn at a favourite body of water, we can all find what relaxes us and helps us refocus. Another practical and easily doable exercise for rewiring is to change our routine—write with the non-dominant hand, drink beverage from a different utensil than the preferred one, sleep on a different side of the bed, sit at a different spot at the family dining table, take a new route to work. By approaching common things a bit differently, we can rekindle the flames of creativity.

In the chapter, “Engaging the Muses”, we encounter the nine Olympian muses—not the relics of made-up ancient world, but the creative forces that are outside our structured, logical framework. The muses await invitation. Despite the obstructions that hold us back, if we are willing to move forward and are raring to go, the muses will accept our invitation to co-create, working with our subconscious intelligence. Even if we don’t believe in Thalia, the keeper of joyous humour, or her counterpart Melpomene, the protector of tragedy, we can certainly extend the idea of the muses to mean that we are inclined to give laughter a chance, and that we are prepared to face adversity with courage.

Barnet Bain notes that, “when the dynamism of doing comes together with the receptivity of being, creative innovation cannot be stopped.”

The Book of Doing and Being ends with urging us to be brave and to “let go”—of a job, an identity or a way of being or relating, especially when it is difficult and full of complaints. The fear of what we could lose by letting go of the familiar is not easily offset by the promise of where we think creativity can take us. As a reassurance, the author acknowledges that creativity is a gift—a gift that is given to everybody, if we are open to receiving it.

This was first published in the January 2016 issue of Complete Wellbeing

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