I was over at my Belarusian friend’s apartment after doing yoga, drinking kale smoothies and talking about self-improvement, and we started talking about our childhoods. I told her some of the highlights of mine, about my fractured relationship with my mom, and she looked at me and said: “You say that Americans complain a lot even though they don’t have real problems, but I don’t know what’s worse — living next to Chernobyl or growing up like that.”
So she started telling me about the I Ching, AKA the Book of Changes, a text based on ancient Chinese teaching which I guess is the equivalent of the bible in terms of how people study it and use it to guide their lives, though it has nothing to with a god. She said that perhaps it could help my mom shed some of her negativity if she read it. I told her I didn’t think she would be receptive to anything that wasn’t Tea Party propaganda, but she brought it out and started flipping through it to show me. It was thicker than the DSM and had so many lessons in it that you were supposed to roll dice to determine which lesson you would read daily. I don’t know what kind of face I made when I saw it but she’s very perceptive, so she went and retrieved a much smaller book. She handed it to me with a smirk and said in her thick Eastern European accent, “Ok how about this? This is like the I Ching for dummies version.” Now we were talking. I flipped it over and read the back of it:
Universal laws govern everything. Several of the laws form a path that leads to the achievement of goals. In every case, those who follow the path to the end achieve their goals, overcome their fears and get what they want. Most importantly, they discover who they are in relationship to the Universe. The perceive a brand new Universe – a treasure chest. Whatever you do now, whatever you now believe, whatever your current circumstance may be, you are perfectly equipped and fully capable of fulfilling your needs and desires. You can have what you want. This book will direct you along the path and create within you a new self image.
I told her I was still skeptical that my mom could be helped by anything or anyone, but she told me to take it and read it myself because maybe it would help me. I opened it and felt better after reading the author Wu Wei’s comment before the book even started: “Because you are reading this, be aware that the Universe, in its complete awareness, has brought you together with what you need. It means you are ready.” So when I packed my bag to go into the city that night, I opted for the I Ching over the The Bell Jar.
I’ve never, ever been religious. I dismissed the idea of Santa flat out as soon as I heard the notion that he was watching me all the time, along with the other supernatural entities. I’ve also never considered myself “spiritual”. To me this word was associated with those southern baptist churches where the people pretend to have seizures because the “spirit” is inside of them and hallelujah and what not. After a few pages of this book though, I finally realized what all the new-agey hipsters in Brooklyn meant when they talked about “The Path” aka “The Path to Spiritual Enlightenment”. Upon this realization, I supposed I was alright with being “on it”.
Not to get too existential about all of this, but reflecting about this in terms of authoritarian symbolism where God is a mentally contained father figure, it’s not surprising I didn’t take well to monotheistic religion with all of its baked-in paternalism, not having a father and all. Now being 26 and considering this Taoist idea of the Universe being an all-seeing, all-knowing entity that produces us and constantly surrounds us, comforting us and steering our destiny for our personal benefit if we are obedient to the teachings of the human sentinels that deliver its messages — it kind of feels like how I would imagine it feels when loving parents hug you.
It’s always been logic and rationalism and reason in my mind, and ultimately, solitude. I’ve always been sort of jealous of people who can delude themselves into thinking that some supreme being is watching over them, taking care of them and making their decisions for them about how to live. But I’ve always said I’d rather be uncomfortable than deluded. Is it delusional to think that the universe cares about me? The author of this I Ching reader basically admits that it is, and says things like “think about a task you failed to complete in the past and imagine yourself completing it. Then imagine yourself completing it and think about it again, knowing you completed it. Even though you didn’t, if you tell yourself you did enough you’ll have peace of mind.” Is delusion the path to happiness, and if so can it be learned? Should it be?
Ok ok, so I’m on-board with making peace with the past. But here’s the thing that will take some serious concentration. This book tries to teach you to not be phased by upsetting things by telling yourself that everything is perfect because you’re here now, on this path leading you to better things despite the seemingly unpleasant things that happened in the past, because it couldn’t have happened any other way. This was the universe’s plan for you all along, so why get upset when bad things happen in the future, because the universe has your back like it always has?
I see what they’re doing here. I get it. It’s unproductive to be mad and dwell on fucked up things because it will only make things cascade into worseness. But like, the guy playing some stupid Zynga game at full volume next to me in the coffee shop today while I was trying to work? I suppose Wu Wei would look at him and think he was perfect! He’d probably thank him and then thank the universe for putting him on the stool right next to him. My first thought? “Excuse me, but I’m trying to follow the path to spiritual enlightenment here and you’re in my fucking way, so please move.”
Am I doing this right?
Not yet, but hugs from the universe feel nice so I guess I’ll keep trying.