Sufism and learning by closing the book (or laptop)

This morning I read an article from yesterday's New York Times that inspired me to extend my search in a direction that I had not considered previously. The article described festivities that the author witnessed in Lahore, Pakistan and that were held to pay tribute to and mark the death of the saint, Ali bin Usman al-Hajveri, an 11th century mystic who is sometimes known as the giver of treasures. What struck me about the article was the picture that it painted of fun, festivities, music and dancing and the fact that this image was not of the Pakistan that I had imagined.

With my interest thus piqued, I set about to learn more about what seemed to be a jovial branch of Islam - Sufism.

What I discovered, firstly, is that Sufism is not a sect of Islam, but rather the mystic aspect within this religion. Secondly, many of the sources that I read highlighted the role of the teacher within Sufism. The principle aim of the Sufi is to draw closer to Allah by replacing the worldly aspects of the ego with purer characteristics. They do this by learning from teachers who pass on an oral history that is said to trace its lineage right back to the Prophet.

It also quickly became evident that becoming a Sufi is not all drumming and dancing. Once one has found his or her teacher, learning the sacred knowledge from this individual can be arduous. Sufi's pray five times a day, they give to charity, regularly fast and their understanding of what it is to be Muslim adheres to strict guidelines, however, unlike other branches of the Islamic faith, whose adherents believe that one will only become close to God after death, Sufis believe that it is possible to become close to Allah while still alive. (I was sure that there would be some pay back for all that praying and sacred dieting).

What I find attractive about this form of belief is the personal element - the fact that one person teaches the next and that the spiritual journey of any adherent is an individual one. Plus, I like the Sufi's stance on book learning, which is that reading alone will not lead to spiritual closeness with Allah. I am all for reading and spend most of any average day with my eyes trained over lines of wonderful words, but there is no sunshine between the covers, no human contact or interaction - these can only be found when one turns one's gaze beyond.

I'm starting to notice that in my minor explorations of world religions I am most interested in how the practice of a religion or faith impacts upon the individual. I am always wondering how religious belief effects someone psychologically and what exactly they gain from it. My heart warms when I suspect that someone is nurtured by their faith and that it leads them to be more open to and more accepting of others (no matter what they believe in).

However, as I poke my nose where it is not necessarily wanted, I am also aware that religions are complicated beasts and that I am only getting the slightest sense of any aspect of any of them. I suspect that like the Sufis, I will have to take my nose out of the books (or in this case, laptop) and talk to individuals about their faith, their experiences and what they believe to be the meaning of their life before I will gain any real insights into the purpose of our existence.

If you'd like to poke your nose into Sufism, here are some good sources to get your started:

International Association of Sufism

The New York Times article mentioned

BBC's introduction to Sufism

Wikipedia on Sufism

Angels in Islam

Before I start into the more serious matter of discussing Islam, a note on my personal progress: in an earlier posting I swore blind that I would begin the following morning with an early yoga session, this never occurred however, I did drag out the yoga mat that evening and spent half an hour stretching and breathing deeply. So far, this has not been repeated but, as they say, tomorrow is another day... watch this space folks, I think I might just be growing!

And now to Islam. One element of the Islamic faith that has surprised me (and please understand this surprise in the context of me knowing little to nothing about the Islamic faith) is the importance of belief in angels. In fact, I have discovered that believing in angels is one of the six articles of faith in Islam, without which Muslims believe that there is no faith.

The six articles of faith are: belief in God, belief in his books, belief in his messengers, belief in the Last Day, belief in predestination (good and bad) and belief in God's angels.

I had thought of angels as being a Christian, if not Catholic, creation and yet here I am writing about angels in Islam. Islamic angels differ somewhat from the cherubic creatures that populate Christian frescoes in that they should not to be prayed to. Rather, they are servants of God. Unlike the Christian understanding of the angelic calling, Islamic angels are not divine or semi-divine and they do not run districts or offices within heaven. Within the Islamic faith, there are no fallen, or evil angels and Satan is not a fallen angel.

Islamic angels were made out of light prior to the creation of man and like us, when the world ends, they will die. Although Islamic angels do sometimes take on human form, they are often hidden from human senses.

The Islamic angels have duties assigned to them by God. Examples of these include: Michael, who is responsible for rain; Malik, who is the leader of the ninteen guards of hell; Munkar and Nakeer, who question the dead when they are in their graves; the two Kiraman Katibin, one of whom writes down all of our good deeds and one of whom jots down our less fine moments; Azrael who is the angel of death and Gabriel, who is generally assumed to be the leader of the angels.

As I wrote in my previous post, my impression is that in recent years, no religious group has garnered as many column inches as has the Muslim community, yet I never knew that Muslims beleived in angels and, yesterday, had you told me that a belief in angels was central to the Islamic faith I probably wouldn't have believed you.

As this search for meaning progresses I am constantly astounded by my own ignorance. Today's 'findings' have forced me to face once more that the deeper I go into this search, the more I come to realise that I know little about anything.

No yoga and muslims in the media

A little slack is all I ask you for. Yesterday, I was smugness personified when I vowed to be up in the early hours to practice yoga. (Head hangs in shame) I am sorry to say that the yoga mat continues to sit dejected in the corner of my bedroom and that I have not even come close to taking exercise today. BUT, in my defense - it's been snowing and thus, I hope you'll agree, it is far too cold to strip off into the clothes necessary to stretch!! Plus, I spent the first hour that I was awake filling out an online application to take my not-so-friendly-local-electrical-retailer to the small claims court - oh yes, I want cold milk on my muesli and I'm willing to go legal on their asses to get it!

But enough of this waffle, I must return to the task at hand - uncovering the true purpose of our existence, that is.

Lately, I've been attempting to give a little thought to faith and to the rainbow spectrum of religious belief that we, as a species, embrace. I've touched on Catholicism, tiptoed around Hinduism and made mention of Buddhism (although apparently Buddhism isn't actually a religion). It's come time to speak of Islam.

Here's the problem with that: I am ignorant when it comes to Islam. Since September 2001, Muslims have been discussed more widely and more often than any other religious community. The undercurrent of these discussions is often terrorism or violence. Aside from such news stories, I have read and viewed little about this community.

Recently, I met a friend for coffee and we tumbled into a conversation about the portrayal of Muslims in the media. Without citing specific examples, we agreed that the media tends to discuss groups of people associated by a shared religion without focusing on individual stories and that, in so doing, it communicates (albeit inadvertently) that the entire community can be painted with a single brush.

A news story may not claim that Muslims generally hold extremist views, however when the only stories that are told about people identified as Muslims are stories about people with extreme tendencies, negative dispositions will form.

Ireland is a predominately Christian country and although I am aware of a large mosque that is situated not far from my home, in my daily life I have little contact with people I know to be Muslim. Neither do I have much contact with people that I know to be Jewish or Hindu or Sikh. This is not a choice, it's just the way that things are.

At this juncture, I'd like to make an aside and to tell you a story that I think most Irish people will identify with. When I was eleven years old, my school took my entire class on a trip to England. After a fun-filled and educational few days in and around Chester we began our return journey with positive views of the United Kingdom. However, when boarding the ferry home, security guards asked several students (please remember that these were polite and probably pig-tailed 11 year old girls) if they had bombs in their rucksacks. I'm sure that this was meant as a joke but it was also highly prejudiced and unprofessional. In the twenty years previous to my school trip, the United Kingdom had witnessed many vicious attacks at the hands of the IRA, who claimed to be fighting for a united Ireland. However, the IRA did not represent all, or even a majority of, Irish people and I had never met anyone who supported their campaign of violence. That I or my friends were associated with the murder of innocent people, any people, disgusted and shocked us.

I imagine that the same thing has happened to children from various faiths and in countries all over the world and that it happens today. The simple fact is that we're often suspicious of what we don't know or understand and especially when that something is a community of people who believe that they have something powerful in common.

When you meet people as individuals the labels don't matter and the preconceptions don't apply. In most cases, when I've met people who follow the Islamic faith I've quickly forgotten what religion they were and I remember instead that they are the owners of a hotel that I stayed in, or that they are great conversationalists, or that they wore fashionable running shoes that I was jealous of.

It's notable that before I began to learn anything about Islam I felt it relevant to first write this posting. I haven't felt the same need to discuss prejudice or the media portrayal of a community before discussing aspects of other religions. However, this is the world we live in today; it's a world that is smaller and more connected than ever before but one that is as divided, if not more so, than ever.

I don't know much about Islam but I've heard plenty about Muslims over the past few years. Little of what I've heard or read has taught me anything about this major world religion or the practices of people who follow it.

To do

I haven't got very far with my 'to do' list and I blame this on a) the weather and b) the fact that my fridge is broken. a) and b) seem to be perfectly legitimate reasons (excuses) for my failure to make more soup and my lack of any attempt to become a green-fingered balcony-beautifying gardening goddess. However, yoga is something that I can practice in doors, by myself and at no cost and due to these simple facts, I am feeling a nasty niggle of guilt that I have not yet become one of those lean, rosey cheeked and elastic yogis that you see float around organic stores.

To give myself some credit (because if I don't, you're unlikely to) I have got out the yoga mat and stretched into down dog on several occasions since I added the practice of yoga to my 'to do' list. I have not blogged about these instances because my down dog days have been few and far between and taken together would hardly constitute a 'practice'.

I tell myself that when spring comes I will be up with the earliest birdies and stretching as the sun rises over the nearby sports stadium (not as picturesque as the sun rising above the sea, but you've got to work with what you've got). I delight in this image of myself, limber, refreshed, full of peace and at the same time energetic. In my daydream, I finish my practice with a smile and proceed to eat a healthy breakfast of muesli and fruit, washed down with a little green tea. I am wearing a very tasteful get up and my entire apartment is spotless.

It's a wonderful hope however, here's the thing, unless I actively do something about achieving this pretty picture and drag myself from bed on the chillier mornings before Ireland's excuse for a summer begins, I may be too stiff and too set in my lazy ways to hop out from beneath the covers when those warmer, clearer, brighter mornings roll around. (In order to achieve the imaginary tidy apartment I may have to employ someone).

I'm a great believer in dreaming wishful daydreams to get us through the days when we're not too thrilled with ourselves or our lives. Does anyone out there agree that, when it comes to getting and staying happy, hope is as important as love? I think so.

However, hope is merely a daydream if we do not take the actions available to us to bring about our dreamed up versions of reality.

Many things are out of our control, but starting to practice yoga is something that I can do for myself so, in order to show that I do respect the 'list', I will be up with those birdies (although maybe with the later sleeping crows, until I can get with the early bird program and rise when the alarm sounds) tomorrow morning and saluting the sun, downing the old dog and namaste-ing my way to that image of myself that I like to imagine.

With regard to the 'urban garden' - I get far too emotionally attached to my plants to subject any fresh young shoots to the snow and ice that persist this month. Once the chill is gone from the air my balcony will be ready for its makeover.

And as to the soup, excuses, excuses but until I get a new fridge, I fear for my life and the life of my boyfriend too much to store fresh cream or any dairy products in my home. I could make my favourite soup, pappa, with bread, tomatoes and handfuls of basil leaves but don't hold your breaths. When the new fridge arrives we can re-negotiate.

Until then, I will amend my lazy ways with a first small step. One down, oh so many more to go... but I feel better now that I've made a plan of action, even if it is a paltry plan.

Life offline

I feel that I must explain my lack of postings for this week. I am in the south of France, which is terribly nice for me, but I am staying in the hills where there is no internet connection and until this morning I was unable to get online.

My nerves are in tatters - anything might have happened and I would not have known. Would a few hours or days of not knowing that this thing had happened change how I would have felt about whatever this thing could have been? and if something momentuos had happened and I had been unaware, what would this have meant for me - would I have felt a tremour deep in my soul? It is unlikely that I would have felt anything other than I did.

Modern communications are wonderful, but when one begins to feel that they are necessary for peaceful living they give no peace at all. When staying connected becomes such a part of one's life that not being able to get online leads to mild panic, modern conveniences can become anything but convenient, and dependence upon them, unhealthy.

It is always good to get away from one's ordinary life, if only so that one appreciates it when one returns. In the case of this week away, I am delighted to wake every morning and to see out my window a scene that is quite different from the apartment block that I look into from my home in Dublin. Yes, I may be missing important events in the lives of the neighbours that I overlook (they too appear to be unemployed and I am sure that they have now witnessed as many happy times, evenings in front of the TV and arguments that have happened in my apartment as I have watched occur in theirs') but apart from that, I expect little to have changed when I return home tomorrow. However, even after spending just a few days in a different house, in a different country, my little apartment will feel different when I slouch into the couch tomorrow night and curl up next to my boyfriend - because I will be that little bit altered, that little bit changed.

My mother suggests that we should always embrace small changes and encourages us to swop places at the table rather than to establish fixed territories where we each eat when we eat together. I agree that change is a vital aspect of successful living. Not only do small changes keep us alive by ensuring that we do not loose completely the capacity to adapt that we have in childhood, also, by embracing small changes we may discover things that we enjoy that we may never otherwise have discovered.

Holidays are good opportunities to taste change because they allow us to immerse ourselves in a new place, full of different ways and mores, and then to jump right back out of that lifestyle, sometimes taking with us a flavour of this different land or different version of ourselves.

Being out of communication is one change that can at first seem difficult, or even stressful, but once we recognise that the world goes on without us and us without news from it, our lives are often more rich and our appreciation of what happens day to day around us, more real. At least, this is how I often feel after an extended break from the New York Times online and Guardian Unlimited, not to mention my beloved email.

Next week I'll be back to my daily blog (still searching for a way to return to the daily slog) but I will do so with the influence of a week away, a week that is sadly rain-soaked, but wonderfully relaxing, if only because for a few days I gave up the stresses of my 'normal' life and took on new ones!

My battery is about to die and as I am sitting in a busy area, using the free wifi in the supermarket, I will go and return to the hills, where I cannot get online and I am much the better for it - briefly.

Definitions of the undefinable

Recently, this quest to find the meaning of life has led me to read and write about religion. I've gone about both tasks in a haphazard way and today I'd like, in typical fashion, to loop back to where I should have begun. I'd like to find out what is meant by 'religion'.

Much like irony, most of us know a religion when we see one, but defining exactly what makes a religion a religion proves difficult.

Defining religion seems to be a task that has defeated many others apart from myself and the web is littered with articles that discuss the difficulties that arise when one attempts to formulate a precise meaning for this commonly understood word.

I began my own search for the meaning of religion with the Oxford English Dictionary. AskOxford.com provides the following definition:

religion - noun 1. the belief in and worship of a superhuman controlling power, especially a personal God or gods.

2. a particular system of faith and worship

3. a pursuit or interest followed with devotion.

I find this definition lacking. 'The belief in and worship of a superhuman controlling power' could describe how some people might feel about a charismatic dictator. Plus, explanations numbers 2 and 3 would equally apply to fervent support of a favourite football team.

I continued my search with reference to my very old and indispensible copy of Roget's Thesaurus (yes Mum, I did steal your copy when I moved out). My mum's thesaurus provides the following suggestions for synonyms: religious instinct, religious bias, religious feeling.

Well, if you don't know what 'religious' means these are most unhelpful. A quick glance to the entry for religious turns up such words as: holy; sacred; spiritual; sacramental; yogic; mystic and devout.

After that first foray, I am no closer to finding any definition of the term.

I then opened my copy of Wordgloss by Jim O'Donnell, a surprisingly entertaining book that I can wholeheartedly recommend to anyone who is interested in the origin of words. O'Donnell provides the following explanation of the word's etymology:

from the Latin religio, religionis, was related by Cicero to relegere 'to go over again in thought' and by other Roman writers to religare 'to bind'. In both etymologies it denoted man's response to an awareness of the bonds that bound men to the gods. Religare derives from the prefix re 'again' and ligare 'to bind', which also gives us ligature (either the act of binding or a bond itself) and ligament (the bands of tough fibrous tissue that connect bones or support muscles).

Hmmmm, in my opinion, it is a good thing to know where a word came from, but I can't help but feel that this is merely an explanation of a word as a thing and that it goes little way to help me to understand what actually renders a religion religious.

Feeling technical, I then turned to the Harvard Human Rights Journal and to an article entitled 'The complexity of religion and the definition of 'religion' in international law'. This article makes two excellent points about the problem of defining religion.

The first of these states that to define religion you must first decide what is being defined and then, what type of definition you're aiming to draw up.

The second point, which I found to be particularly interesting, is that any attempt to define religion will be influenced by how the person or persons defining it understand religion. Some people believe that religion is something metaphysical, others that it is a psychological experience and still others that religion is a cultural or social force. In other words, if you are religious your definition of religion may be quite different from that that would be provided by someone who does not believe in any God or gods. Equally, people who worship in different ways may understand religion very differently, even if they all share a belief in a god.

Feeling even more confused than I had felt when I began today's posting, I turned to Wikipedia for a basic, collectively created, definition. Wikipedia offered the following explanation:

A religion is a set of beliefs concerning the cause, nature and purpose of the universe, especially when considered as the creation of a supernatural agency or agencies, usually involving devotional and ritual observances and often containing a moral code governing the conduit of human life.

This explanation would suggest that religions should answer for us the two most fundamental questions pertaining to life on earth: why are we here? how should we behave while we're here? For some people, religion does provide this very function however, here's another big BUT - many people believe in religion, but few of us can answer these questions.

Plus, if I were to believe that we were created by giant aliens to amuse them in a similar manner to how we might amuse ourselves by playing Monopoly or better, Risk, and did I worship icons of these beings and live my life in accordance with a set of rules that I believed had been sent down to me by the little green men, would this constitute a religion? If others began to believe similarly, would our belief system then constitute a religion? At what point would beliefs be recognized as such?

I've come to the conclusion that I can't define religion absolutely. I THINK that a religion has the following elements: a creation story or explanation for why or how we got here; a practice that involves worship of a God or gods.

And I'm not even sure if that's correct!

Finally, because defining this seemingly simple term has stumped me, I will leave you with some other people's definitions, which I found at a Canadian website about religious tolerance (and the kind of website that I never thought I would find myself perusing of a Friday afternoon - does this mean I am growing as a person or that I have way too much free time?)

Religion -

William James: "the belief that there is an unseen order, and that our supreme good lies in harmoniously adjusting ourselves thereto."

Alfred North Whitehead: "what the individual does with his own solitariness."

Robert Bellah: "a set of symbolic forms and acts that relate man to the ultimate conditions of his existence." Karl Marx: "Religion is the sigh of the oppressed creature, the heart of a heartless world, and the soul of soulless conditions. It is the opium of the people." Paul Connelly: "Religion originates in an attempt to represent and order beliefs, feelings, imaginings and actions that arise in response to direct experience of the sacred and the spiritual. As this attempt expands in its formulation and elaboration, it becomes a process that creates meaning for itself on a sustaining basis, in terms of both its originating experiences and its own continuing responses."

Inside the stationery cupboard

I'm going to take a day away from discussing religion, or anything to do with god or gods because I've been very busy today dealing with household issues and writing copy for a website aimed at over 55s - SilverCircle.ie.

In between these tasks I met my younger sister for lunch. At the moment my sister is working in a solicitor's office (or attorney's, if you're visiting from a land across the water) and is thoroughly enjoying it.

Until she took on this internship (in a state of panic as it was compulsory and she had not come to any arrangement with a company until days before she was due to submit the final details to her supervisor) she had no interest in entering the legal profession. Today she is considering beginning the study that would set her along the road to become a solicitor.

Do not be fooled, this new interest is not inspired by a love of the law.

I have rarely laughed as much as I did listening to my younger sister describe how she spends her days filing papers, submitting documents in the courts and completing whatever other menial secretarial odds and ends are required of her.

I myself would jump at the chance to work right now, if only to have somewhere to go everyday and a steady pay packet (however meager) at the end of the month, however, my sister enjoys staying at home or meeting her friends and she isn't being paid for this current internship. But she adores it.

I had always assumed that the most interesting or amusing stories about working in any branch of the legal profession would derive from scandalous or complex cases or points of law. My sister cares little about the intricacies of such matters and instead takes joy in the little things. By this I mean the little things like paperclips and staplers that the rest of us take for granted or despise.

She described the office photocopier, which processes many different pages at once as 'the Jesus of machines' and could barely contain herself when explaining how a machine works that absorbs documents, places a legal seal upon them and then spits them out the other end. She actually gasped when describing the thrill of using an impressive stapler and expressed extreme disappointment (with much slow head shaking) when referring to another, which did not live up to her expectations.

I have never known anyone to be quite so very enthralled by stationery goods. Unlike many of us (I had thought all of us) she is attracted to the prospect of working in a profession that would provide her with a steady supply of documents to file and order and carefully place in just the right place so that she will be able to find them again when this is necessary. When I asked her whether she would like to be a legal eagle she mused, "well, the courts stuff can be really boring, but I do love the paperwork."

If we did not share as many physical characteristics as we do I might be forced to disown her and declare her a fake. I have always been strangely proud of the disorder with which I conduct my affairs - I think of myself as being somewhat organic, natural and pure because none of my drawers are in order. Tidiness, because it is not my talent, has always seemed alien to me and I have had to persevere to even pretend to resemble a neat freak when friends call around.

So, what have I learnt from my highlighter toting, photocopier-loving little sister? Firstly, those who take joy in organisation (oh you know the types - in school they used three different coloured pens to complete their homework and by the time that they got to college they filed the study notes for different subjects into folders that were colour-coded by course) are not all bad and may even resemble those who think it is very impressive just to be able to find a pen on cue and who loose everything that they are told to take care of and not to misplace.

Secondly, we truly do come in all sorts. Each to their own is one of the most useful phrases ever coined and we would each do well to learn to live by it and recognise that we do not know how the next person thinks.

Finally, talk of photocopying, when described by someone who discusses it with the same relish that some people take when passing on juicy gossip, can be hilarious - who'd have though it.

It's a strange world and you just never know what's going on in the stationery cupboard, someone might even be in there appreciating the stationery.

The meaning according to the Dalai Lama

I found it, I found it! A definitive explanation of the meaning of life from a trusted source. It seems quite incredible that I have managed to discover the purpose of existence in just a few short weeks and from my apartment, but thanks to the world wide web, such wonders are now possible.

In this case, my trusted source is his holiness the Dalai Lama, who along with Nelson Mandela and Ghandi, is one of the most trusted sources that one could go to to petition for wise words (although to speak to Ghandi the not uncomplicated business of time travel would also have to be negotiated).

Thankfully, in this modern age, even the most luminous of luminaries have official web pages and that of the Dalai Lama includes information about his schedule, recent press releases, photos of the Dalai Lama (usually smiling, laughing or waving joyfully) and his answer to the age old question: what is the meaning of life?

I'd like to include a quotation from his answer, because I cannot paraphrase his words in any way that will make his messages more meaningful or concise and because there is nothing like wisdom straight from the holiness's mouth.

I believe that the purpose of life is to be happy. From the moment of birth, every human being wants happiness and does not want suffering. Neither social conditioning nor education nor ideology affect this. From the very core of our being, we simply desire contentment. I don't know whether the universe, with its countless galaxies, stars and planets, has a deeper meaning or not, but at the very least, it is clear that we humans who live on this earth face the task of making a happy life for ourselves. Therefore, it is important to discover what will bring about the greatest degree of happiness.

How to achieve happiness
For a start, it is possible to divide every kind of happiness and suffering into two main categories: mental and physical. Of the two, it is the mind that exerts the greatest influence on most of us. Unless we are either gravely ill or deprived of basic necessities, our physical condition plays a secondary role in life. If the body is content, we virtually ignore it. The mind, however, registers every event, no matter how small. Hence we should devote our most serious efforts to bringing about mental peace.

From my own limited experience I have found that the greatest degree of inner tranquility comes from the development of love and compassion.

The more we care for the happiness of others, the greater our own sense of well-being becomes. Cultivating a close, warm-hearted feeling for others automatically puts the mind at ease. This helps remove whatever fears or insecurities we may have and gives us the strength to cope with any obstacles we encounter. It is the ultimate source of success in life.

As long as we live in this world we are bound to encounter problems. If, at such times, we lose hope and become discouraged, we diminish our ability to face difficulties. If, on the other hand, we remember that it is not just ourselves but every one who has to undergo suffering, this more realistic perspective will increase our determination and capacity to overcome troubles. Indeed, with this attitude, each new obstacle can be seen as yet another valuable opportunity to improve our mind!

Thus we can strive gradually to become more compassionate, that is we can develop both genuine sympathy for others' suffering and the will to help remove their pain. As a result, our own serenity and inner strength will increase.

Our need for love
Ultimately, the reason why love and compassion bring the greatest happiness is simply that our nature cherishes them above all else. The need for love lies at the very foundation of human existence. It results from the profound interdependence we all share with one another. However capable and skillful an individual may be, left alone, he or she will not survive. However vigorous and independent one may feel during the most prosperous periods of life, when one is sick or very young or very old, one must depend on the support of others.

Inter-dependence, of course, is a fundamental law of nature. Not only higher forms of life but also many of the smallest insects are social beings who, without any religion, law or education, survive by mutual cooperation based on an innate recognition of their interconnectedness. The most subtle level of material phenomena is also governed by interdependence. All phenomena from the planet we inhabit to the oceans, clouds, forests and flowers that surround us, arise in dependence upon subtle patterns of energy. Without their proper interaction, they dissolve and decay.

It is because our own human existence is so dependent on the help of others that our need for love lies at the very foundation of our existence. Therefore we need a genuine sense of responsibility and a sincere concern for the welfare of others.

We have to consider what we human beings really are. We are not like machine-made objects. If we are merely mechanical entities, then machines themselves could alleviate all of our sufferings and fulfill our needs.

However, since we are not solely material creatures, it is a mistake to place all our hopes for happiness on external development alone. Instead, we should consider our origins and nature to discover what we require.

I'm going to interject here purely because I recognise that you are busy people who are not necessarily at luxury to spend all day reading blogs about the meaning of life. Although what I am about to do is probably sacreligious on numerous levels, in the interest of saving you time, I'm going to paraphrase (ie. butcher) the remainder of this message from the Dalai Lama (hanging head in shame. You can read the full text here).

Leaving aside the complex question of creation and evolution we can agree that we're a product of our parents. When a couple decides to have a child, the child's very conception is founded in love.

When we are born we are defenceless and it is through love that our parents care for us. As we grow older we require affection and love to ensure that our brains will mature properly. Love is the most important nourishment that a child receives.

In all areas of life, affection and respect from and of others are vital for our happiness.

No-one is born free from the need for love and thus, human beings cannot be defined as being solely physical.

Some people believe that anger and hatred are dominant of love and compassion, but I do not believe this to be the case. However, we do have an innate self centredness that inhibits love for others.

True happiness can only be brought about by a calm mind and this requires a compassionate attitude.

We must make a concerted effort to develop compassion. When you recognize that all beings are equal in their desire for and right to happiness, you feel empathy with them, which leads to a wish to help them to overcome their problems and this wish applies to all. It is within your power to develop this kind of compassion.

We can begin by removing anger and hatred. Through reason and patience we can develop a controlled energy to help us to handle difficult situations. Compassion is peaceful and gentle but it is also powerful.

Thinking that compassion and reason and patience are good will not be sufficient to develop them. We must practice. For this reason, our enemies are our best teachers.

Anger and hatred will always be harmful unless we train our minds and work to reduce their negative force.

It is natural and right that we all want friends. When we have money it often seems that we have many friends, but these are friends of our money and our power. We must prepare for times when we do not have money or power and make genuine friends who will help us when the need arises.

In conclusion, I would like to expand this point to state that individual happiness can contribute in a profound and effective way to the overall improvement of our entire human community.

We all share an identical need for love and in whatever circumstances we meet, we are brothers and sisters.

I believe that at every level, the key to a happier, more successful world is the growth of compassion. We do not need to become religious, nor do we need to believe in an ideology. All that is necessary is for each of us to develop our good human qualities.

I try to treat whoever I meet as an old friend. This gives me a genuine feeling of happiness. It is the practice of compassion.

The life of a living goddess

Can you imagine being a god on earth? Sounds like fun, doesn't it? You could flit around the globe from beautiful destination to beautiful destination, being fanned by young, lithe fan-bearers and eating strawberries and sushi while sipping ice cold champagne. Or maybe that's just my fantasy... sushi is not for everyone.

In Hindu and Buddhist traditions, the appointment of living goddesses is perfectly normal. Yes, that's right folks, you too could become a living deity! If you are a prepubescent female, with a suitable horoscope and perfect teeth that is.

The only living deity that I have ever knowingly been in proximity to (what a ridiculous phrase that must sound to those who were until now, unaware that god has been made woman many times over) is the Kumari Devi of Kathmandu, Nepal. I didn't actually see this living goddess, but I visited her home (or at least, I admired the outside of it).

The Kumari Devi is a prepubescent girl who lives in a building known as the Kumari Ghar, near Kathmandu's Durbar Square. It is said that this young girl is a source of supreme power who brings prosperity to Nepal. The living goddess is chosen from amongst the young girls (under seven years old) of the Sakya tribe. Preliminary tests must confirm that she has an auspicious horoscope and that her physical characteristics correspond with 'the 32 attributes of perfection', which include the colour of her eyes, the shape of her teeth and the sound of her voice.

The girls who make it over this first hurdle are then placed inside a darkened room where the infants are confronted with buffalo heads, demonic masked dancers and other tricks that are designed to scare them. According to tradition, the true Kumari Devi will not be perturbed by this madness and will remain calm in the face of extremely odd and ugly icons and contortions. Finally, the placid infant faces a test similar to that that confirms the identity of the Dalai Lama, during which she is asked to select items of clothing and decoration that belonged to her predecessor.

Once chosen, the living goddess takes up residence in the ornate Kumari Ghar. Traditionally, she appears on a regular basis at an ornately carved window where tourists can see her and ask questions, to which she will apparently respond by making particular facial expressions. However, in 2003, the living goddess 'Preeti' stopped appearing at the window where visitors could see her. Preeti's guardians told BBC reporters that they were dissatisfied that the Kathmandu municipality earned money in the name of the Kumari Devi, while the guardians did not receive a share of the spoils to maintain the rituals associated with the living goddess. Eleven months later, a deal was struck and she began once more, to show her perfectly formed face behind her window.

Once a year the Kumari Devi makes a rare appearance outside of her home. On Indra Jatra, in September, the Living Goddess is borne in a three tiered chariot around the older parts of Kathmandu. This festival is the focus of worship for the Kumari Devi and traditionally, during this festival she blesses the King of Nepal.

For most living goddesses, the days of being the object of worship by many come to an end just as those difficult teenage years begin. A Kumari Devi remains goddess in residence until either, her first menstrual period, or a loss of a substantial amount of blood due to a cut or similar event. When blood-loss has occurred the goddess falls back to earth and becomes a human adolescent, just like her peers.

Unlike her peers, the once-god-now-human will have lived a life of luxurious isolation. While fulfilling the role of Kumari Devi, she rarely will have left her intricately carved home and will have been permitted few playmates. Furthermore, it is deemed unlucky to marry an ex-living goddess and few of the previous Kumari Devis who are still alive have been able to convince potential suitors that their attractions merit throwing karmic caution to the winds.

The bad luck associated with marrying an ex-goddess may stem from the assumption that a little girl who gives her blessing to the king and is worshipped by Nepali people far and wide is probably going to grow up to be a very spoilt little lady - but this is merely an assumption suggested by my own experiences with one too many a daddy's princess.

Personally, I feel sorry for Kathmandu's living goddess. Firstly, she can't fly and has no super powers... but seriously, the child is essentially sequestered for between six and ten years of her childhood and then becomes a regular mortal, with little training to equip her for the process of coming back down to earth. It sounds like a very lonely existence and one that would ill prepare a young woman to cope with the rigours of modern life in Nepal, where poverty and unemployment are common and where women are expected to marry and produce children in order to fulfill their role in society.

Being worshipped as a god on earth may sound like a great deal in theory, but the reality is most likely disappointing. Many people find meaning worshipping gods, but being one doesn't sound like a very meaningful experience. Plus, in my research for this posting I didn't come across one mention of sushi, or for that matter, champagne - this goddess business is clearly not all it's cracked up to be!

330 million gods or none at all

I've made a (somewhat feeble) attempt to learn something about Hinduism. I'm totally confused. From what I can gather, it is a luminous patchwork of a religious tradition but one with so many different patchwork pieces that, as an outsider looking in, it's hard to gain any clear understanding of what the whole actually stands for.

Here's what I have so far (and please stop me if I err, particularly if you, unlike me, actually know what you are talking about):

Hinduism grew organically and spread throughout a wide area of what is now India, Nepal and surrounding territories. Today, there are approximately one billion Hindus, 905 million of whom live in India, Nepal or Bangladesh.

The religion encompasses a wide variety of traditions, including schools to which millions belong and also many small groups made up of just a few hundred adherents, or often fewer.

Hinduism is often defined in terms of its belief in the law of karma and the belief in reincarnation, although these belief systems are common also to Buddhism and Jainism.

The concept of God differs depending on which tradition and philosophy one subscribes to.

Some Hindus believe that the meaning of life is to realize that one's true self is identical to Brahman, the supreme spirit, and in so doing, to achieve liberation (every religion and philosophy that I have 'studied' in this search talks about achieving some sort of liberation. Am I the only one doesn't feel horribly constrained by the physical experience of life? Perhaps, if through this search I ever become smarter or wiser, I will find my human condition to be more of a burden).

Dualistic Hindu schools also understand Brahman as the supreme being, but in their case they think of him as having a personality that they worship as Vishnu, Brahma, Shiva or Shakti.

Some people call God Ishvara, sometimes identified as Vishnu, or as being Krishna. (It is a mark of my ignorance about this major world religion that, even at this point, I am beginning to feel as if I am reading a Russian novel).

The 330 million devas (oh yes, you read that correctly - 330 MILLION) are heavenly beings or gods about whom mythological stories are told and of whom icons are often made. These devas are sometimes thought to be quite different from Ishvara, but some people worship Ishvara as a favourite deva, or heavenly being.

Which deva you are particularly attached to depends normally upon your background and will often be dictated by which deva your family, caste or people in your local area worship. Certain devas are associated with particular needs or times of life. (So far, while I am confused, I can, to a point, make sense of this by remembering pictures that I have seen of some of the various devas. That said, imagining 330 million of anything is beyond my capacity.)

(Here's where it takes a turn into territory that I was not expecting to trod in this, my introduction to Hinduism) Many Hindus are atheists (does this come as as much of a shock to you as it did to me, or am I particularly ignorant?). Yes, within a religion that seems to be jam-packed with gods, many practitioners do not believe in the existence of any creator god or gods. Unlike your commoner-gardner atheists, who tend to believe (again, I must specify, that I mean this in my extremely limited and predominantly Christian personal experience) that if we are godless, we are also soulless, many Hindu atheists contend that the spirit is strong and exists in tandem with nature, only that within this system there is no supreme God.

It all seems so desperately confusing - how does one decide what one believes or who one believes in, or not? I mean, it's just so multifarious! Yet I wonder if it is as much a matter of choosing a stream of faith as it is of being born into one? Belief is rarely logical, I think that if anything, to make a leap of faith is to believe in the absence of logical reason to do so. I can imagine that few people have the opportunity to weigh up the various attractions of competing traditions or devas, before their belief has been shaped by what they learn from those around them.

How complicated the territory must become for someone who grows up in a world where faith comes second to fashion (or more usually further down the pecking order) but where their parents worship one deva or other, and have a complete understanding of the nature of their faith, absorbed, as if by osmosis, by being and living in a society where that faith was the centre of the world.

While many younger Hindus living in western society may find it difficult to balance their faith with modern existence (as do most people who live in the west and who practice any religion) it is reassuring to think that for many of the one billion Hindus, there is an answer to the question: what is the meaning of life? From my own point of view, the search must continue. It has become my practice to dip a toe here, make a few snatched observations there and I'm not always sure that I am doing more good than bad, but the searching, at least, is very interesting and I am satisfied even just to have learnt today that many of the most devout Hindus do not believe in God - what a wonderful contradiction of everything I had previously assumed that I knew about the major world religions. Holy is not always godly.

It is sometimes wonderful to discover that one has been wrong, if only because it gives one cause to realise that one is most definitely not always right.

Sunrise, Namibia

After yesterday's posting about my lack of enlightenment at Varanasi, India, I wanted to share a few images and words about a place that did inspire me. Above, are some images that I took at Dune 45, near Sesriem, Namibia.

This is a dawn that I will never forget. I woke in a tent, pitched under a large acacia tree in a dusty bushcamp at Sesriem. When I dragged myself out of my tent it was still pitch dark. I ate a quick breakfast (I can always eat) and then clambered into the truck that I had traveled there inside, to race across the desert, from the gate of the camp to this, Dune 45 - the highest of the local dunes and the 45th dune to be named by whoever does the dune naming in these parts. I remember watching the first, sharp rays of white-yellow-almost-blue sunlight rising like molten metal, on the horizon line as the truck rattled over the sands.

When we stopped, myself and my fellow travelers shivered as we made our way towards the foot of the dune and, conscious of the onset of dawn and the speed with which the sun was sure to rise, we began to plod quickly up the thick and cold side of sheer dune. Despite the fact that with each step, my feet sank deep and safe into the sand, a bolt of fear ran down my spine as I climbed higher and higher along the dune's rim, staring down the steep, smooth sides that fell away in either direction.

Finally, I reached the top and sat into the soft, orange sand to watch the first lights of the day chase over the desert. Far and wide, the sands rippled with fresh colour as the rays of morning danced over the surface of the dry earth below. The dunes were black against the brightness of sunlight; ripples of cool silk in the soon to be white-fire-bright morning.

This moment, this place, I 'got'. There was no confusion, no million deities, no secret vatican archive of bureaucratic letters. This was a moment of pure spirituality; a moment of such beauty that it took the breath away and one that could have happened at any time since time began. It was universal and, in my still short life, without compare.

In the minutes that I sat atop the dune, watching in silence as the desert became flooded with colours of rust, rose and bruise, I understood, in the purest sense, what is the meaning of life. It was a sensation, something that I could not annunciate, or touch with my fingers or taste with my tongue, but that I could feel with some other sense, a deeper sense that is somewhere inside.

If I could explain that meaning I would do, but the sun rose, the moment passed and now I continue searching, for a way to gain that sense once more and to sustain it, in a meaningful manner, that I can apply to more than one sunrise, so far away and long ago.

Lost in translation: India

This is Varanasi, or as it is also known, Benares or Kashi. It is one of the oldest inhabited cities in the world, something that one does not find hard to believe while wandering its labyrinthine streets, flanked by crumbling edifices.

It is also one of the holiest cities and most sacred sites for Hindus, Jains and Buddhists. Pilgrims flock to the city and particularly to the waters of the reportedly septic Ganga (Ganges). Hindus believe that when one bathes here in the River Ganges sins are remitted, while to die at Varanasi is to be released from the cycle of transmigration that we know as reincarnation.

While I travelled around India last summer (yes it was hot, very, very hot and at the end wet, very, very wet) I met multitudes of sweaty travelers who raved about the marvels of this city and who described it as being 'amazing'. Few could explain why they found the city to be moving, few even attempted to explain what they found to be so amazing about Varanasi.

In Darjeeling I met two young english men who had (like myself) just arrived on a train from Varanasi, they used the a-word as glibly as did most other travelers, but when I told them that I hadn't been enamoured with this ancient pilgrimage site they turned away and ended the conversation, rather than explaining to me what I had missed.

A girl who I met at a childrens' home told me that she found Varanasi to be amazing and 'such a special place', but when I asked her to go on she simply screwed up her face.

On a bus across Nepal, from Pokhara to Kathmandu I met an Irish man from County Clare who we will call Bob (not to hide his identity but because I genuinely cannot remember his name). Bob had lived in the city that he called Benares during the 1970s. Bob at least made some attempt to explain his fascination with Benares/Varanasi by describing how he had been seduced by the colourful nature of Hinduism. He even took a Hindu name (much to the disgust of his Catholic mammy back home in County Clare), learnt to speak and write Hindi and took up tabla. While living in Varanasi, he and his then girlfriend had owned a boat and used to travel up and down the River Ganges, relaxing and watching the world go by, or up in smoke, between tabla lessons or prayers.

Few travelers that I met showed Bob's commitment to learning and few had decided to make a life in India, as he had. Most, like myself, were just visiting, hoping for some sort of enlightenment if it was to be found without enormous personal effort and wasting time somewhere warm (ha ha, anyone who has visited India during the hot season will understand what an understatement this is), colourful and different from where they were from.

I found Varanasi to be smelly and dangerous. Twice, while walking in the streets and while wearing long skirts, long sleeves and a long scarf across my body (I definitely was not looking for it) I had my ass grabbed. There were cows and buffalo everywhere, which I don't mind, but the smell of their excrement can sometimes be overpowering. Bodies were carried down narrow streets on narrower stretchers and on the riverside-ghats those bodies burned.

Every evening, colourful candlelit ceremonies took place on the ghats and these would have been quite spectacular to watch had I been able to sit still for a moment without people coming to take my picture, squeeze themselves where there was little space between myself and my boyfriend, or pull at my arm to show me the postcards or fans that they were selling.

There were wonderful moments, like sitting talking to a young boy who was studying at the english school nearby and who told us that he wanted to be a computer programmer - his enthusiasm for life and for opportunity was infectious and seemed to be representative of the new fortunes of India. I loved to watch people play cricket in the most unsuitable of spots - down tiny alleyways and right alongside the water - sometimes with a crowd of onlookers and commentary over loudspeaker.

In my opinion, Varanasi was interesting and photogenic in a dirty, crumbled, dusty way. But in my experience, amazing it was not.

I am utterly confused by world religions and specifically by hinduism, which appears to me to be a very open, very colourful religion that is interpreted by different people in different ways. Furthermore, I am confused by the fact that so many people with so many (millions of) deities can have anything in common. They experience something that they believe to be shared and that commonality is important to them.

I find this amazing. But not the place where it happens to happen.

I just wish that whatever is special about this place could be explained to me by one of the people who think that they 'got it', whatever someone who is not hindu, not buddhist, not jain (and I would venture, in the case of many of the people that I chanced to come into contact with, probably knows little more than I do about these major world religions) could 'get' from the coming together of so many different peoples in joyous worship, in a town where I sweated myself skinny, had my body groped by strangers and feared for the sickness that floated in the ashen air. Am I the only person who thinks that there is a contradiction in the fact that Varanasi is a place of worship and yet a place that often disgusts as a result of the sheer volume of people attracted there?

I genuinely wish that someone could explain. Many people clearly do find meaning here but I came away very ill with food poisoning and no less the wiser. If you can share any insight please do, because I would be very grateful if someone could shed a little light on what is becoming a dusty memory that I still don't understand.