Paul V Mohan

Many of my friends, and even some of my clients, become uncomfortable when I use the word spirituality. So I tell them, “Fine. If you don’t want to talk about spirituality, let’s talk about the mind and the body.” They suddenly become comfortable with that. I am now talking about something directly connected to their own experience. I am giving importance to their body, their mind, and their thoughts. Excellent! Now they are interested again. The word has changed, but the subject is still the same.

When Spirituality Is Misconstrued

One of the most relevant explanations of spirituality I have ever read was by Swami Nitya Chaitanya Yati. I think it was in his book Saumyaakaya Jeevitha Veekhanam or perhaps Daivam: Sathyamo Mithyayo. I am not certain which book it was.

In my teenage years, I was an agnostic, an avid reader, and somewhat rebellious. I was not academically inclined. Throughout my life, questions kept emerging in my mind—about my studies, my existence, relationships, and literature. My mind was often filled with melancholy, an intense longing to be loved and accepted, moodiness, and a certain fearlessness. I was also partly asthmatic and severely allergic to dust and cold.

I read everything from Nancy Friday’s My Secret Garden to Albert Camus’s The Plague. I was constantly searching, questioning, and trying to understand.

Then I came across Swami Nitya’s words: “When an astronomer discovers a new constellation, when a music director composes an extraordinary new melody, when a poet writes a few exquisite lines, when a lover rests her head on her beloved’s chest, or when a believer closes their eyes and prays with complete surrender—the profound exhilaration they experience is spirituality.”

That definition excited me. I began to see spirituality as a path toward pleasure and happiness. I love happiness and pleasure, and I started to wonder what this path was.

But when you pursue that journey deeply enough without proper guidance, you can end up completely lost. You become confused and clueless. I hit that wall hard. At one point, I was smoking almost five packs of cigarettes a day. I was lethargic, severely allergic, and deeply melancholic. I desperately searched for a mentor, but the elders I approached couldn’t take me to the next level of understanding or guide me. 

Eventually, I felt like a tiny, clueless boat drifting in the middle of an enormous ocean.

In such a pathetic situation, one day, I started listening to my body. I tried to find out what foods were allergens for me. What kind of bathing made me sick? Hot water or cold water? Morning or night? What drinks made me energetic? What food made me feel comfortable?

It took me months to understand which foods and drinks suited me. The changed food gave me the energy to walk. I used to walk for a long time. Eventually, my nocturnal nature shifted.  I became an early bird.

Then I began exploring my likes and dislikes. I learned to listen to my body. I learned to be brutally honest with myself. I began shedding the conventional norms that had shaped my life. I chose what genuinely excited me.  And I started applying this principle to every aspect of my life—what books I read, what movies I watched, what music I listened to, even what fabrics I chose to wear.

It worked wonders in my life. My life began to change in ways I had never expected. My thoughts diminished, my energy increased, and I gradually began to love myself and the life I was living.

I continued to understand my body on a deeper level. I accepted a simple truth: At the most fundamental level, I am an animal.  Like every other animal, I have basic biological needs: food, sleep, exercise, sex, proper digestion, easy elimination, peace of mind, and energy. 

I did not bother myself with questions such as whether God exists, what the self is, or whether rebirth is real. I focused on my body first. Was my body functioning well at its most basic, animal level? That became my primary concern.

Once I reached a satisfactory level, another question arose: Why couldn’t I attain the best possible state? My attention then turned to my mind. I began to question myself: Why do I have so many thoughts? What is the relevance of these thoughts? Are they really helping me? Why do some thoughts keep returning again and again? Why do some thoughts affect my concentration while I am eating, reading, or listening to music? Why do certain people who are close to me create so much stress within me? Why do their words and actions affect my happiness and mood?

Those questions led me to understand the mind. Understanding alone doesn’t help in a big way. You have to find a way to come out. Then I  reached therapies and techniques—Western and Indian, ancient and modern.

( To be continued.)

Royalty-free image by Engin Akyurt from Pixabay. Thank you, Engin Akyurt