Nothing rouses a life of feckless slumber more harshly than the knowledge of death. Similarly, nothing but suffering universally inspires the spiritual quest for detachment and liberation. And the stronger the impressions of such suffering, the more confirmed one is likely to be in their state of detachment—for no acquired mental and spiritual state is immune to decay from the ravages of the world. Man’s romantic myths about being spiritual do a great disservice to spirituality—to the point that a spiritual life completely belies our popular, idyllic representations of it.
But for most of us, spiritual realisation doesn’t descend on the mind fully-formed and vivacious. Neither does it stem from an epochal and seismic life event that upends our worldview once and for all. For the majority, the spiritual quest is born out of fleeting bits of inspiration encountered in everyday life. It calls for initiative and deliberate effort, often requiring that we start from scratch, and invariably, an unwavering commitment to a lifetime of discipline just to uphold its fading impressions. We steadily forge our path through a sempiternal cycle of waxing and waning, expecting that when the day closes, we will have advanced at least one more step than we’ve receded. And it is for this very reason that the spiritual path presents ample opportunities for sinking ourselves into a vicious cycle of stagnation.
Consider perhaps the most typical example: you resolve to detach yourself from something that you expect not to go your way. For a moment, everything seems in equilibrium. Soon, however, the fact that your dim expectation is yet to materialise provides a fertile breeding ground for hope. In such situations, hope grows prolifically, enough at least to quickly overshadow wisdom. And hope metamorphoses into attachment just as swiftly. All of this transpires unbeknownst to your conscious mind until disappointment hits and suffering sets in. And lo and behold, you’re back to square one, staring at yet another weary climb up a rocky road while being ridden with guilt and frustration.
One may contend: isn’t spiritual stagnation better than being non-spiritual? As convincing as such a contention may sound in principle, one must not lose sight of the aim of spirituality, which is the removal of suffering. The guilt and frustration begotten by spiritual stagnation keep compounding, until they finally plateau into despair and disillusion. And in no time, what began as an elevated quest for happiness leaves you much worse off than someone in blissful ignorance. Like any other sphere of waking life, steady, incremental wins, no matter how small, are crucial for staying the course on the spiritual quest.
What is the answer? Perhaps, admitting that spirituality is a downright ‘mental’ endeavour is a good starting point. This, at the very least, requires that fanatical speculations about the soul be kept aside in the interest of hard human progress. With this admission, a plethora of avenues for cultivating mental discipline, not least of which is mindfulness, open up.
Let me leave you with one useful piece of instruction: try not to fight strong, unreasoning urges with plain reason and logic. The ascendancy of emotion over reason is responsible for a lot of what is wrong with society today. Instead, snap out of the situation in a fit of will, and, having stepped back and secured for yourself a foothold of objectivity, apply the prism of reason and logic. By extension, an understanding of the workings of emotions is the most important arrow in the spiritual warrior’s quiver. And the kernel of such an understanding is the paradoxical response of emotions to human intervention. The more they’re indulged, the stronger they grow. The more they’re resisted, the stronger they grow. Accepted, embraced, and let go, they capitulate.
