Mind v. Matter

It recently occurred to me that I have never considered my "self" to be my physical self. I don't mean that I don't consider my physical being to be all of me—because of course it is not, although I am undecided as to whether the mental/emotional/whateveral rest of me qualifies as what some term a "soul", or whether it is a more benign, amorphous mess generated by various biological processes and held together with the tenuous connections forged by personal memory—but rather, I mean that I do not consider my physical self part of ME at all.

On the surface, this is a totally irrational position to take; clearly, the physical framework within which we all operate as human beings is a large part of who we are and what we become. We may exist as "spiritual"—for lack of a better word—beings, but even if some of us may claim to have experienced multiple trips to this terrestrial existence, I do not know of anyone who has claimed to be able to recall existence entirely outside of the physical realm.

If, indeed, there is such a thing at all.

While I accept that my feeling that my body is not part of "me"—though I do accept that it's my property for the duration of my lifespan—is a ridiculous one, I still can't escape the notion. If, for example, someone compliments my appearance, I do not take it as a credit to me. This is above and beyond whether I feel the compliment is valid—I really do not feel that my face or my body are components of my whole "self" ... my physical person to me, is more or less an illusion—a fable of a thing that, while not precisely a prison, is still so sadly restricting that it tips the blessing/burden scales quite distinctly down on the side of being a trial.

In this way, I think, I identify with some of the early Gnostic ideas that the physical realm is a necessarily evil one. It's not that I'm so closely sympathsizing that I could make the transition to conversion—not by any stretch of the Gumby personna of imagination—but I do relate in the basic notion that the physical and the "spiritual" are essentially disconnected entities, and the spiritual one is the "good" and real of the two. I do not find the idea that the material realm is a confinement, of sorts, to be extreme, or uncomfortable.

Because of this underlying (if irrational) conviction, I am finding myself at increasingly distressing odds with my shrink, who seems to be of opposing sentiments, and is increasingly encouraging me to become more in touch with my physical body—yes, yes, let's get the adolescent snickering out of the way on that phrasing right now—and to connect with it via meditation. I've been putting this off for so long now that it's fairly routine, but I do think the reason for my evasion has less to do with my general tendency towards procrastination and a lot more to do with my feeling that the material world is scraping the sub-basement of idealism ... in short, my physical body is not something of which I wish to have an increased and in depth awareness.

Sure, there are physical pleasures to be had, and it's tatamount to insanity to wish to be removed from what happiness the material realm holds. But there's also a full-black rainbow of physical discomforts out there, and the idea of increasing my sensitivity to and acknowledgment of the gamut of ickiness that runs from mildly irritating menstrual cramps to near-completely debilitating migraines—even if I could possibly catch such attacks in earlier stages—quite simply revolts me. And that doesn't even touch on the truly horrific opportunities for material hell that reside in "this world": illnesses that kill instead of merely discomfort, and worse, ones that make death seem like a blessing.

Anyway, having established what's holding me back and loosely chained it to an historical theology that I find fascinating—albeit abstractly so—where do I go from this walled-off dead-end street? That's hard to say. I haven't gone anywhere yet, though I am getting damn sick of staring at the bricks in front of me. I've packed a number of guided meditations with me on a variety of portable devices—my mp3 player, this sweet little Dell Mini, and even my cellphone—and yet I still continue to avoid even attempting to try to meditate my way into a new relationship with the physical "me" I've so long denied.

Gnosticism, for all of its independent flavors—mostly lost to history—is centered on knowledge. It occurred to me, though, when I made the connection between the disdain I've felt for my physical self for at least a quarter of a century and these long-lost spiritual philosophies, that to avoid knowledge is to desecrate that "spiritual" self which I do identify with and hold as truly "me". And that means that even if it is hideously uncomfortable—or merely just awkward and weird—I need to advance my ideas and make new connections.

And maybe I do need to start seeing myself in the duality of the non-physical and the physical ... even if the non-physical is clearly the superior part. Especially considering that, given that I do not consider my physical self "me", I seem to have forgotten or neglected to realize at all that all of the trials and tribulations that the material world presents cannot—if I do not permit them—touch the part of myself that I consider my true "self". Perhaps what improvement of the tenuous connection between the immaterial and the material can actually strengthen both components.

It's an interesting idea, I guess. But only time will tell if this particular odd notion will prove stronger than my ability to put off meditating entirely!