I'm currently reading the Indian epic, Shantaram. I have been feeling a bit nostalgic about India and decided to deal with it by reading as many Indian-themed books as possible. When shopping at a garage sale in Grand Junction my grandmother noticed the torn copy of "Shantaram" and insisted that I read it; it was obviously a sign from Ganesh, Hindu elephant God, himself (or a sign that the garage-sale ladies liked winding and dramatic romances). While it helps to satiate my wandering mind it's a far cry from the eloquent and spiritual "Siddhartha."
Yet, there is one section of the book that is particularly striking. The main character is receiving a lecture of the difference between good and evil and the determination of right versus wrong action. It is important to acknowledge the fact that the lecture if being issued from the mouth of the highest mafia don in the city to a former heroin-addict and new recruit. Still, I can't get the section out of my mind. Here's a quote:
"...The universe began about fifteen billion years ago, in almost absolute simplicity, and it's been getting more and more complex ever since. This movement from the simple to the complex is built into the web and weave of the universe, and it's call the tendency toward complexity. We're the products of this complexification, and so are the birds, and the bees, and the trees, and the stars, and even the galaxies of the stars. And if we were to get wiped out in a cosmic explosion, like an asteroid impact or something, some other expression of our level of complexity would emerge, because that's what the universe does. And this is likely to be going on all over the universe...the final or ultimate complexity- the place where all this complexity is going- is what, or who, we might call God. And anything that promotes, enhances, or accelerates this movement toward God is good. Anything that inhibits, impedes, or prevents it is evil. And is we want to know if something is good or evil- something like war and killing and smuggling of guns...- then we ask the questions: What is everyone did this thing? What would help us, in this bit of the universe, to get there, or would hold us back? And then we have a pretty good idea whether it's good or evil."
There are so many days when I go through my long list of "shoulds" and "to-dos" and effectively paralyze myself by asking, "What's the best?" When I attach so much meaning to this idea of effectiveness I enlarge the question to a case of right-and-wrong, good-and-bad. The inability to prioritize and see the truly inconsequential nature of decisions makes them so much larger than they need to be. Whether I order a sandwich or a salad is not a case of right and wrong; it is simply a case of needs and preferences. Will I inhibit the movement of the universe if I choose one over the other? Absolutely not. Even in less trivial matters the distinction becomes clear. I spent the greater part of yesterday debating about whether or not to apply for a job I had heard about. I ran through all the lists: pros and cons, potential outcomes, why I was being silly, why I was being reasonable. In the end, I applied. After all, I might not even get an interview. After I applied the roof did not cave in, the world did not stop spinning on its axis, and I went to bed relieved. Applying for that job was not a "right or wrong" decision. It was just another variable that the world presents us with.
As I further reflected on this statement I realized how applicable it is to choosing to act on disorder thoughts. For quite a while I've been operating on the idea that anyone could choose not to try to rid their lives of their eating disorder. This comes from the fact that I believe that the individual human life is rather inconsequential. We are really only the sum of what we make ourselves to be and the effect that we have on those around us. So, if someone wants to be sick, maybe even die from it, the impact is only as large as the effect they have on the world. If they want to choose not to effect the world around them and hide behind the body they think they should have, that's just one little speck of a decision in the grand scheme of things. They're choosing not to have a part, and that choice is an option like any other.
While I haven't completely turned away from this line of thought, the above passage did give me a new perspective on it. One must first determine whether having an eating disorder is an issue of right and wrong. According to my argument above, it's not really a choice of right or wrong, simply of choosing how influential one wants to be in the world. However, an eating disorder can also be a case of right-versus-wrong. It's obviously hazardous to one's health to act on one's disordered thoughts. Being disordered also causes undue hardship on those who one loves. But the real reason why an eating disorder may be considered "wrong" is enlightened by asking and answering the questions posed in Shantaram: "What if everyone did this thing? Would that help us, in this bit of the universe, to get there, or would it hold us back?"
If everyone had an eating disorder the universe would be a chaotic place. All of our conversations would encompass odd, stuttering syntax, as we devote half of our minds to our neurotic obsessions and half to the task at hand. No one would ever be in the office because they'd have to get in late/ leave early/ take a long lunch break to exercise. No one would present quality deliverables because they wouldn't have the cognitive functions to do so. And everyone would be so damn tired all the time that they wouldn't even be able to form business relationships in social environments because they'd need to get to bed. The economy would cease to function and everyone would run around like manic cocaine addicts, trying to swim against the current.
In applying the Shantaram argument on a personal level it also dictates the "wrong-ness" of disordered action. If I consider myself as being a part of this ever-complexifying, moving whole, then I must protect my own ability to progress toward the ultimate truth. Every time that I don't eat when I'm hungry or sacrifice another part of my life to exercise more than I need to I inhibit my own ability to access a more evolved, complex self. Moreover, I don't help to create the sort of environment that allows complexity to flourish. My acting disordered is both a personal and grander impediment to the Earth's movement toward Truth. So it just can't be right.
I don't completely espouse the Shantaram argument yet; I've got a hard time agreeing with a mafia don who uses the same argument to justify killing as "the wrong action for the right reason." Still, it's food for thought (pun intended).
Today I will play my part to accelerate the universe, one snack at a time.
Monday, December 12, 2011
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