I am working through “The Soul of the Marionette,” by John Gray, an enquiry into the question (some would say myth) of free will. And I ran across the above quote, attributed to T.F. Powys in his 1918 work, “Soliloquies of a Hermit.” The quote so resonated with me that I sought out the essay and am now sidetracked reading it. So much for John Gray…
The quote in its entirety is thus:
“Though not of the Church, I am of the Church. Though not of the faith, I am of the faith. Though not of the fold, I am of the fold; a priest in the cloud of God, beside the Altar of Stone. Near beside me is a flock of real sheep; above me a cloud of misty white embraces the noonday light of the Altar. I am without a belief; — a belief is too easy a road to God.” — T. F. Powys (“Soliloquies of a Hermit,” Andrew Melrose Ltd, London. 1918)
The quote resonates because it so concisely sums up my own attitude towards religion and spirituality. My atheist friends want me to be an atheist, my Christian friends, a Christian. My attitude towards both and everything in between is that taking such a route is too easy. A few days ago, someone asked me what I believed. I said, “I don’t know.” He asked what I thought would happen to me after death. I said, “I don’t know.” I said that I pray, and he asked, “To whom?” I said, “I don’t know. I just try to offer humility before the awesome mystery of life, and gratitude at being allowed to participate in it.” And this is true. I don’t know, and neither does anyone else who still breathes. We can only believe in what we think or decide to be true. And choosing one belief over others just seems to me too simple. I’ve commented on this in various ways, once in asking why we adopt the religion of our parents, and again when reflecting on God without religion. But personally, I like my ocean liner analogy.
In reading Powys essay, I’ve found a wealth of wisdom and frank confusion presented in what, at first read, almost appears to be free association. I will reflect on it after I’ve worked through it.
I have never heard of this writer but I must confess that I don’t have the slightest idea this side of hell what he is talking about. Moreover, I think that there IS real knowledge about these issues, but it is very much in the interest of many to DENY that because the truth about our lives as shitting primates is too grim for our exquisitely sensitive central nervous systems to endure. Better to wrap reality in mystical clouds of unknowing so that the sharp, hard lacerating edges do not so much as appear. Why must the world conform to our wishes for meaning through personal validation by some Supreme Source of Validation? That is what this sort of talk ultimately comes down to. “I do so dreadfully and earnestly want to matter, not just to myself but from outside, from some objective perspectival point. So let us muddy the conceptual waters with mystical clouds in which we may discern faces of humans and animals, familiar objects, buildings and landscapes and myriad other entities and PRETEND we have discovered a validating deity instead of invented one.” There is no reason whatsoever to believe that natural selection in its stupendous but blind creativity would necessarily produce a creature that would find itself at home on this Earth. The overwhelming probability is against it in my view.
Boy, you said it would be scathing, and so it is! I feel like a tripped a switch or something. Fortunately, I know you well enough to know where you’re coming from, so whether you’d like it or not, I write this initial reply amid smiles and laughter. I know, it’s not what you intended, but, really…
You, realize, of course, that I actually relate to Powys, all the more now that I’m almost through the entire “Soliloquies….” so you are in a real sense directing your words at me. I’ll write more in a day or two, but so far, it appears that he didn’t think much of basic human nature either…which (as you know) neither do I. Actually, I suspect you’d relate to much of what he says. You should read the work. He takes refuge in the earth and solitude from others, and in the organic.
And, by the way, you equate (unjustifiably, in my view) an openness to something greater than mere humanness with a need for meaning. I disagree wholeheartedly…and, from what I infer so far, Powys (and perhaps others) hardly believed in a a good and gracious God. In fact, he appears to suggest that God, if he does exist, wants nothing more than to snuff out His own existence.
I will write more thoughtfully in a few days.
In my experience the need for “something greater than mere humanness” invariable leads the needy one in the direction of an all-too-human anthropomorphic entity, a variation on the human model which, in spite of its differences, retains the ability to validate our precious sense of persona, individual importance. If this were NOT the case, the much extolled need for something greater would find satisfaction in Nature, in the Earth and its 4.6 billion year history, in the stupendous magnificence of the Sun, in the Solar System, the Galaxy and the Cosmos with its estimated 2 trillion galaxies whirling through space-time. Any one of these phenomena far exceeds the merely human and all together crush humankind into insignificance. But the craving for something greater is Not satisfied by these phenomena because humans demand that the “something greater” have the capacity to acknowledge and validate their existence.
Ironically, in my own case, I find the Divine (or, if you prefer, the devine :) in identification and singularity with exactly the phenomena you describe. I find transcendence not in thinking myself to be above it all, but in being a part of it all.
But that aside, what does it matter to you or to me how other people find it or describe it, or if they find it at all? Perhaps in empathy, I accept that we anthropomorphize because such are the limits of our cognition. We conceive and identify and personify because it’s the only tool most have. I suspect the few capable of more (you, perhaps; certainly some intellectuals and philosophers and zen-oriented motorcycle mechanics) are the outliers.
And so what? What of it? What is it to me if others find meaning or purpose or security or whatever in an anthropomorphized version of the Divine or in a rubber duck in the bathtub? That’s their business, and unless they come to me wanting more, my job is to leave them be.
And before you say it, I know and agree that religion in all it’s forms and hypocrisies has brought (and continues to bring) evil and pain and misery and death into children and families and peoples throughout humankind. But that is a different issue and a different discussion. Setting that aside for the moment, what others believe and how they practice it is no business of mine. So why does it bother you so much?
People have a right to their own opinions but no one has a right to his own facts. The supposed “fact” that this world is merely a pathetic, debased staging area for entry into a glorious spiritual paradise rather than the only world we truly know to exist devalues the Earth and makes its exploitation and neglect inevitable. The supposed “fact” that we are commanded to be fruitful and multiply is a recipe for a cancerous metastasis of humans and their filth, fouling and corrupting the skin of the Earth—how can it possibly absorb the urine and excrement of 7.6 shitting primates or 10 or 15 or 20 billion? The supposed “fact” that we possess a Self or Spirit or Soul stuffed into the body, making us who we are is radically incompatible with the brain centered truth of organic life and inescapable death. We must Make of ourselves what we can within the short time we have. The failure to achieve this affects the whole of society and therefor all of its members. The notion that these issues are none of my concern is simply another supposed “fact” of dubious merit. These dubious “facts” have immensely harmful consequences for man and Nature. To say that others have their views while I have mine is to embrace a complacency bordering on lobotimization. I am fully aware of the many benefits of religious conviction—after all I once accepted those benefits, but the price is just too high, affecting virtually everyone. The least one can do is articulate objections and speak out with passion.
I think that what you are really aiming for is not the Divine but the Sublime, a concept with a long history going back to the ancient world, a topic in Moyers’ discussions with Joseph Campbell.
That may be, thanks. I think the world of Campbell and will look into it. Meantime, watch for my next post, and reread Yalom’s chapter on Meaninglessness. I did on Saturday, and it was quite satisfying.
I was thinking through my intense emotional dislike of anthropomorphic supernaturalism and had recourse to a lengthy and meticulous self-analysis, largely completed some 30 years ago, but whose therapeutic benefits have been nearly that long in appearing. Unresolved residue from a particularly virulent Oedipal complex is undoubtedly the source of my ongoing hostility. There are four imagoes whose condensation and displacement continue to spark rage and venomous criticism: God, my Father, my maternal Grandfather. and the Frankenstein monster, all coalescing and differentiating in an unconscious dynamic that rises to the surface when IT senses provocation. It would require a novel to detail this phenomenon, a piece of interior Nature with its own measure of sublimity. The best definition of “rationalization” is a good reason but not the real reason for behavior. Oedipal residue is the real reason.
An extraordinarily honest response, Michael. Thank you. This entire discussion has moved me significantly, especially after reviewing Yalom on Meaninglessness and, as of this morning, finishing Powys’ “Soliloquies.” I’m going to try to rephrase the approach to meaning in general in the next (or a near-future) post. But I need some time to think about it. Stand by.