On Mermaids, Unicorns, and Faith

Maybe I was trying to start something with him, maybe not, but after Fred's Dark Prakrti comment yesterday, I decided to follow up after the kids' bedtime by asking him to comment on the following excerpt from Iyengar's Light on Life:

"A scientist sets out to conquer nature through knowledge - external nature, external knowledge. By these means he may split the atom and achieve external power. A yogi sets out to explore his own internal nature, to penetrate the atom (atma) of being... The presence of truth can make us feel naked, but compassion takes all our shame away."

Now, Fred lost it after the (he called it) inflammatory sentence about scientists. I had to shush him to even be able to read the rest. Then he said that, since there is no spirit, or soul, there is no penetrating the atma because there is none. And that this, according to him, is the problem with yoga as it is sold in the West. He thinks we are being sold a religious system that is outdated and dangerous, mixed in with our postures. Seems we might be dealing with an atheist rather than an agnostic at this point. Hmm.

So, I argued that some yoga is selling the idea of a divine, of a spirit, but it doesn't have to be so. Some yoga is just therapeutic, take it at face value, it feels good, it does good things in the body. He says he's okay with that.

So, I argue that during restorative and meditative practice, I have felt something Other that I can't describe or explain. He says, "Well, I can explain it. You've trained your mind to the point that you are accessing it differently, the same way anyone who trains in meditation or those kinds of practices can."

So, I argue that we can't really argue about it, because he hasn't experienced it, and he gets all mad. I tell him that this perception that I have of there being something more is the unicorn. In this book I have about raising agnostic kids, it describes a fun activity that they do at agnostic kids' summer camp (sounds like a fun place, huh?) - they break up into teams and try to disprove the theory that there's a unicorn that lives at the camp. You can't do it. I told Fred he was trying to disprove my unicorn and that he couldn't do it. He said we shouldn't argue anymore; that after bedtime wasn't the time for such discussions. Hmm.

Which brings us to the point of faith. I was raised a good Catholic - bought into the whole thing. If I had met a nice Catholic boy and settled down, I might even still be practicing to this day. But I met Fred instead, and somehow over the course of our undergraduate days he chipped away at my faith with penetrating questions and dark, sarcastic skepticism until it was completely gone. I was thinking last night (instead of sleeping) that it's very tragic and sort of like a fairy tale - let's say "The Little Mermaid". To be able to be with the handsome prince and live my fairy tale life, I had to give up my old life, give up my tail, my faith, and take on the legs and other trappings of an agnostic scientist, which I truly am not at heart.

Fred argues that there doesn't have to be a soul to explain the things that I am experiencing, and I say, "Yes. That's true. The teachings would agree with that." He says there doesn't have to be a divine for there to be all this Prakrti, all this matter, and I say, "Yes. That's true." I think it infuriates him. His science brain can't find a crack.

So here I am, at a place where I feel that my faith is growing, albeit in a different direction again, and I'm willing to take Fred on this time. These are arguments neither one of us will win, though. I argue with him that he has to take his physics and new scientific discoveries on faith - that he hasn't seen them and can't do the math himself (though he can do a lot of it), so he's believing in something someone wrote somewhere and that this is a lot like a religious faith. He disagrees. On these things, we will never agree.

Ah well. We can always discuss plans for next spring's garden. We argue there, too, but at least there's some give and take and agreement can be reached. Maybe I'll keep Prakrti and all the rest for myself. And maybe he's right - after bedtime definitely isn't the time for such discussions. I could have used more sleep and less Little Mermaid in the wee hours last night.