I have thought of offering an informal class with the above title. What has kept me from doing so (besides the fact that everything from taking a shower to walking the dog is now seen as a potential tool for spiritual transformation--which, in truth, is so, if viewed from the mystic's perspective) is that *making* a page, as opposed to reflecting abstractly upon the genre, takes so much time that there isn't much left for talking about it.
It does seem to me that the Internet is like the cosmic mind, and that the personal computer is like the skin-encapsulated ego, churning away at creating a plethora of stuff--databases, spreadsheets, manuscripts, letters, even special effects for the film industry--out of it's own self-contained world. Connecting our computer to the Internet, on the other hand, is like opening our ego to cosmic consciousness. The computer/body then becomes a transmitter/receiver for interactive communication with the One. Thanks to the browser/brain, we are able to tune in selectively, if not always wisely, and choose where we want to go. Some browsers are more effective than others, however....
This site was conceived during Lent of this year and born shortly after Easter. While not exactly a religious person, I sense the continuity of the seasons and have long felt that early spring was a time for clearing out the sludge and lethargy of winter to make way for new growth, within as well as without. This last winter had been unusually long for me, having lasted, it seemed, for a whole year. It was in early 1995 that I was diagnosed with breast cancer and a month into this year before I had recovered from the final phase of treatment. What happened between was one long, dark night, warmed and lighted by the love of friends and family.
Perhaps, like the plant that rushes to bloom when threatened by the pruner's shears, I have seen the end of life and, thus, hasten to replace myself--lest I vanish having left no gift. For, truly, I have received more than I have given--not so much from selfishness as from fear that I had nothing of value to give.
It came to me during Lent that the greatest gift a creature can give is being itself in the world. The catch is that the true self is not what we commonly refer to as "real" (the part we can perceive with the physical senses). The real self, in the platonic sense, corresponds more to what we might call the spiritual--or virtual--self. It is the "royal" self, the God-chip that we have inside, which may or may not seem apparent to the material observer.
Thus, much as the Internet may be an easy forum for deception, it is also a venue to express our inner truth sans the distraction of our personal accidents. So, now, in addition to helping others express their essential qualities through dress, language, and manner, I can help them do so online--a delightful medium still largely free of those who seek to control others for personal gain or from misdirected zeal.
My current hypothesis is that our Dark Age ancestors (and Dark Age selves) probably perceived the world as an often uncomfortable, if not scary, place. Many events must have seemed random; others, though predictable, largely uncontrollable.
People probably reasoned early on that they could accomplish more in groups--and even when they failed, they could console each other. Chronologically, the most influential of these groups have been part of the larger "institutions," or aspects of culture, that we now call religion, government, and business. Religion grew out of awe and respect for (and sometimes a desire to curry favor with) the Unknowable. Governments came from the perception that in order to accomplish things together, people needed rules. Business reflects, essentially, our love of games.
The distinctions among the three institutions are becoming less clear. In addition to being simple communities of saints, religious groups have long offered direction to the soul, made and enforced rules of conduct, and retailed a variety of aids to spiritual progress. In today's socially and economically unstable environment, both private businesses and public institutions offer supportive in-house services once provided by families or other care-giving organizations.
Regardless of the institution in question, however, human history seems largely a succession of struggles between individuals trying to stay connected with their sources of comfort and others seeking to intervene. The urge to intervene, though it comes in many guises, still reduces to the desire to be comfortable on the part of the intervenor.
Each type of human group spans a continuum, with fellowships of "directly connected" peers at one end and those headed by prominent intervenors (individuals or subgroups) at the other. Among the latter, some intervenors are consciously invited; others appear to crash the party. For instance, Taoists relate directly to the The Way (in fact, they make no distinction between the follower and the followed); Roman Catholics relate to God not only through Jesus Christ but through the Pope as well. In New England town meetings, early issues were decided by individual vote; in this century, the whims of a single man destroyed much of the Jewish population. Non-profit businesses provide comfort supposedly "at cost," while for-profit companies, whether employee-owned or not, extract a toll for the comfort they bestow.
Like other people (including penitents, who suffer now to earn points for later), I enjoy being comfortable. I also enjoy taking part in certain groups. Philosophically I am drawn to the "direct access" type; I want the live, unfiltered (and certainly unadulterated) juice. On the other hand, the convenience of delegating can also feel like a source of comfort. Intervenors can be deliciously charismatic; adulteration can taste really good for a time.
These thoughts remind me that the comfort I seek is both short- and long-range. For me that means experiencing love, joy, harmony, freedom, health, humor, and accomplishment on a daily basis. If an intervenor can help in a perceived crisis, fine. The important thing is that I understand what I am getting and what I will be paying for it. Will the intervention truly help? Will the intervenor try to stay involved after the crisis has passed--or worse, generate new crises to ensure its (individual or group) retention? (In other words, does it have a vested interest in my discomfort?) Worst of all, is it the sort of intervenor that may ultimately see me as a threat to its own comfort and conclude that I must be destroyed?
The greatest price we pay for using--or tolerating--intervenors is not measured in terms of power, authority, money, or even life itself. The biggest cost of allowing others, no matter how well-intentioned, to stand for long between us and what we seek is that we may never come to discover the larger order behind what we perceive as random and uncontrollable events. We may never learn that life is interactive; that the discomfort we strive to mitigate through the use of intervenors has been in part created by--and can, to a yet-unknown degree, be alleviated by--our own selves at a "higher" or "deeper" level.
Like space, all continua are probably curved. In a place we cannot see, like the dark side of the moon, extremists of every stripe--religious, political, or economic--may meet and chuckle over the drama of human perception. Would life be dull without discomfort, fear, and struggle? Perhaps, but I would welcome an opportunity to give peace and prosperity a chance.