Meditation

Sexual Metaphors Across The Centuries

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As a person interested in Taoism, it doesn’t take much to run into some practices and statements of a rather sexual nature. Sometimes it’s tame metaphors. Sometimes it’s hanging weights from your genitals to straighten your spine. Sometimes it’s someone writing a passive-aggressive dis about another Taoist being a huge pervert. Taoism’s diverse history has everything, including a lot of sex stuff.

One thing that I had noticed in my readings over the years was talk about “intimate union” in meditative practices – and ones that are clearly not sexual. Often it’s about joining forces, the various elements of one’s being together, sense and essence, spirit and energy, etc. Sometimes it’s simple, sometimes it’s elaborate.

(And yes, these sexual-but-not-sexual metaphors have clearly been taken as sexual in history. Taoism has also used mercury as a metaphor and it didn’t stop people from poisoning themselves.)

These sexual metaphors had often passed me by. Yes, perhaps I am “joining sense and essence” in an intimate embrace like a couple or something, but that’s just a metaphor, right? Perhaps the Metal Man takes his rightful place with his spouse. Sexual metaphors I just kind of passed by, probably because our own culture uses them.

But in time, I began to see how useful such metaphors were.

In my meditations, the “unity” of forces is a large part of the practice Breath meditation has mind resting on an ever-refining breath in partnership. My energy work is about mind resting on energy as it flows through the body. But such unities can easily be broken as any meditator knows – sometimes the mind doesn’t rest on breath (or energy) but rests on itself resting on breath (or energy). You know how it is when you’re doing the thing but also sort of knowing you’re doing the thing and it just falls apart.

I came to realize that meditating, the mind rests on something – for example, a slow and even breath. The mind sets its intent to be there with the breath, the breath ever slow and evening, and that’s its only priority. In many ways it surrenders itself completely to the breath by being there with it while the breath is there just being itself.

Then I got all those sexual metaphors because that’s perfect.

Intimate metaphors are a great metaphor for meditation practices. They capture the closeness, the surrender, the passion of connection. I’d written them off as trite and simplistic, but they were the opposite – the use of sexual or romantic metaphor fit meditation very well. I got it.

Meditation is an intimacy – as are other such practices. Sometimes you need to go to something visceral – like sex and romance – to communicate such things. Perhaps it has to be carefully phrased or used, perhaps people will get it wrong, but it fits.

I also think this is a good reminder that when reading metaphors and symbolism to remember they are oft written by people who are not you in times that are not your own. Our reactions to them are not the ones that the writers of the past expected or even considered. You have to learn to listen across the centuries.

–Xenofact

Head Full of Ghosts

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If you’ve done any form of meditation or therapy you know about those complexes in your mind. The fears, the obsessions, the habits that take over so much of our life, probably more than we want to admit.

It’s like having a head full of ghosts.

These aren’t the cool ghosts either. There’s no dramatic revelations of the past or lineage. They aren’t some vital spirits directing us to a better life after three disparate visions. None of these ghosts is delivering useful advice. Not a single one resembles Patrick Swayze.

Honestly, these ghosts in our head, these habits and neuroses, are boring and pathetic.

They’re mechanical and repetitive. They run on tracks burrowed into our mind, clockwork-clicking along whatever path set out by our past experiences. They are powerful, they are annoying, but they’re also not that interesting or unique. The reruns of the soul.

They’re often quite pathetic. A bad experience here, a grudge there, something we didn’t acknowledge in the past. Even the horrible ones are sad, the results of our bad choices or the cruelty of others. There’s something invalid about them, and we fear, about ourselves.

They’re damaging. They hurt us, obsess us, misdirect us, but not in any cool way. They’re often stupidly self-destructive – of ourselves and even themselves. They negate themselves yet always resurrect.

But worse of all these Ghosts, these complexes and obsessions of the past are so empty.

There’s nothing to them. No acknowledgement of reality, even when reality triggers them. They don’t grow. They aren’t relevant even if perhaps they once had reason to exist. When we acknowledge them, their shallowness is stunning. Here we are, people, and we have to share our head with these phantoms.

It’s humiliating. These mechanical, harmful, phantasms drive so much of our life and don’t deserve to. I once read someone discussing the Four Noble Truths of Buddhism, and decided to translate what is usually interpreted as craving as humiliation, and I get that.

I find looking at this emptiness, this voidness of our complexes helps me deal with them. When you see their shallowness and pointlessness, you can overcome them. Not necessarily by great exertion or cultivation (though it may help) but by just seeing through them and deciding to move on.

They seem to shrink when you do that. Probably because your attention and ignorance was the only thing keeping them going.

–Xenofact

Threads and Validity

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Previously I’d written on ways people tried to claim spiritual authority – Ancient Tradition and/or Initiation – and the flaws of both. I’d mentioned a bit on how I validate spiritual teachings and advice, and wanted to share that next.

And considering I get into things like “did this 3000 year old sword hilt indicate breathing exercises” yeah, this kind of thing interests me. Well, I also like breathing exercises.

So as regular readers know, Taoism is a large part of my spiritual practice. Taoism has a convoluted history going back thousands of years, of which the famous Tao Te Ching is a major milestone, but not the only milestone. Taoism includes breath work, philosophy, psychological exercises, folk religion, I Ching commentaries, a sprawling collection of immortals, mystics, and weirdos, and more. It also includes what I call “Taoist Diss Tracks,” and trust me you have to see what kind of snark people who emphasize “doing by not doing” can get up to in order to appreciate it.

Note that Taoism isn’t particularly restrictive, and my spiritual practice includes many other elements. But I’ll just focus on Taoism for now.

The question is how I make sense from my Taoist readings and learn useful techniques and teachings? I mean there’s a lot so there has to be something there, but also there are also Taoists poetically accusing others of being weird perverts, so you gotta do some sorting.

The best way I’ve found to describe my methods are Threads and Validity.

When studying such a sprawling tradition, I look for Threads that endure throughout the various teachings. Is there something that persists between enough of the works I read and over a note able time period that represents A) a teaching with a history, and B) that is applicable and can be actioned.

Note that I say teaching with a history. This may mean a consistent practice, but also means a practice that you can see discussed, analyzed, and maybe even evolving. It may be argued about, it may be relatively unchanged, but you can look at it and say “yes, I can see what that is and why it is.”

Also, note it should be actionable. You can have some kind of consistent or evolved teaching but if you can’t do anything with it then it’s sort of hard to try out.

A few examples from my interest in Taoism:

  1. Breath exercises seem to go back very far in Taoism, predating the Tao Te Ching. Slow, even breath seemed to be a major part from the start.
  2. Post Tao Te Ching teachings that involve “spiritual alchemy” have some pretty consistent metaphors for mental elements and psychological effects of meditation – or at least the authors I have an interest in (which seem to come from the same school so not surprising).
  3. Political and social advice for Taoists seems pretty consistent, from avoidance of greed to a mistrust of intellectualism. There’s debates over implementing that, but the Tao Te Ching seemed to embody and promote some teachings that stayed relatively consistent for people who you know cared.

But all this aside, this history and ability to action things doesn’t matter if you can’t find some Validity in the spiritual works. You have to put them into action and see what happens.

And that’s where you have to get to work, try it out, and see if it works. Does the breath meditation seem to work for you? Do ethical teachings help you out (which requires a lot of self introspection)? Do you connect with this god or that?

Spiritual practices require you to actually dive in and try out what you’ve found. Which also requires you to ask what do you expect to happen, what are your goals? This is challenging, since the answer may be “to see what happens” – in fact in some meditative techniques that’s kind of half the goal. Sometimes having a goal actually messes things up, like forms of meditation, which makes it more a challenge.

Yes, I include ethical and social practices in this as well. Thinking about your ethical choices, how you act, and what happens really helps you grow. Even if sometimes it’s growing by confronting things about yourself and your society.

But it’s up to me to learn, to apply things, and see what happens. I take responsibility for what I’m doing so I can learn, put things into practice, and be better. My regular readers know there are some things I don’t comment on as I’m not sure I know enough to do so safely and effectively. You gotta dive in to learn.

So that’s how I validated spiritual teachings. I look for histories and consistencies that I can put into action then I give them a try. It also means putting in the work and taking the responsibility.

–Xenofact