Alan W. Watts – 1958
Such a compassionate and gently insightful
book by Alan Watts. Though published in
the 50s, because it deals with infinite rather than timely things, it reads as
though written yesterday; (only Watts’ modesty of language and lack of glibness
betray its origins in another era). Watts
was often disparaged as a popularizer in his time, but that judgment is only
relevant if he was nothing more than a Western interpreter of Asian belief
systems. I tend to see him more as a
philosopher in his own right, with his own ideas, rather than simply a
translator, at which he may have been flawed at times no matter how many years
he studied. Watts was only a specialist
in eastern mysticism in the same way that Carl Sagan specialized in astronomy;
obviously, as mass media educators, they were also so much more. I can’t do justice here to Watts’ observations
in Nature, Man and Woman, but the
gist of it is that we pay sad consequences for the conditioning our society
puts us through; a lifelong process that persuades us that nature is the enemy;
a force that exists outside of us, a force of corruption and contamination;
leading to the common tenet of monotheistic religions that the body is something
to be suppressed, ignored, tolerated at best; a slowly withering reminder of
everything painful and transient about life.
Watts argues that this kind of thinking leads to little but unhappiness
and frustration, and needlessly so, because it goes against everything that we
feel naturally, which is a profound connection to nature that attracts us not
only to animals and the outdoors, but to each other. Civilized man tends to never learn to relate
to nature or have a strong sense of his place in it because he is so seldom
able to be alone and to contemplate; in contrast to rural cultures where solitary
endurance tests and learning to survive in the elements are rites of passage. This estrangement from nature leads to
arrogance in general and discomfort whenever the realities of bodily functions
need to be faced. Inevitably, the
greatest implications of either communion with or disdain for nature appear in sexual
relationships, where one can either stomach indignity in exchange for the
fastest possible satisfaction or recognize, savor and be humbled by a cosmic
glimpse into the same mysterious powers that generate new life.
Excerpt: “There is a place in life for a sharp knife,
but there is a still more important place for other kinds of contact with the
world. Man is not to be an intellectual porcupine, meeting his
environment with a surface of spikes. Man meets the world outside with a
soft skin, with a delicate eyeball and eardrum, and finds communion with it
through a warm, melting, vaguely defined, and caressing touch whereby the world
is not set at a distance like an enemy to be shot, but embraced to become one
flesh, like a beloved wife. After all, the whole possibility of clear
knowledge depends upon sensitive organs which, as it were, bring the outside
world into our bodies, and give us knowledge of that world precisely in the
form of our own bodily states.”
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