As I sat at edge of Toronto’s Harbourfront looking onto Lake Ontario, the grandfatherly words of Alan Watts entered my thoughts:
The point of life… is to be alive.. that’s it.
I had heard this and numerous bits of wisdom like it before: koans, proverbs, dictum; all of which I yearned to live authentically by, automatically even, but never quite feel them at times. There is a superficial level of understanding, an intellectual grasp of a concept, but its another to really know and understand something deep down.
If the point of being alive, is to be alive.
I thought to myself,
We only know what life means by knowing what it is to die.
I continued.
A Canadian goose returning from winter’s migration treaded water in front of me.
Therefore, it would seem that a life is lived most “fully” and “meaningfully”, when we place ourselves as close to dying as possible.
After all, I mulled over, why do we feel such exhilaration sky diving or on rollercoasters instead of irreversible trauma necessitating years of psychoanalysis later?
A few days followed. Now, I sat within the tea lounge at the Yorkville Othership, the aroma of incense calming my senses. I’ve been trying to determine what I’m supposed to do in my life, what my future looks like or what any of it will be for. I look up at the massive red mood light and feel filled with an awe.
I’m aware of the light’s design and manipulative purpose. Long wavelengths, such as red frequencies, induce a meditative and calming effect signaling safety (1). However, I feel as if I’m staring at the Sun or Mars from outer-space; fitting to the Othership extraterrestrial branding. To my recollection of Jung’s descriptions in Psychology and Alchemy and even astrology, the Sun is taken to symbolize the “Ego”; how curious and literarily accurate: the beginning and ending of experience is connected in Ego. Was this massive glowing bulb foreshadowing the process to come, subtle embeddings by the conspicuous designers? It seems intentional or at unconsciously put there. There’s a social atmosphere around me which is contrasting to where I’m at. Inwardly, I’m centering myself, attempting to set an intention – not unlike a psychedelic medicine ceremony (3). My future, or a vision thereof, is the topic of my meditation.
I am (currently) convinced, that the human part of us, needs meaning; we are meaning making creatures and construct narratives to fit and comfort us regardless of circumstance. As aim oriented beings it appears to be our life process. On the other hand, if we take Jung’s hypothesis of the an inescapable “spiritual dimension” of humanness (2), this second aspect yearns for an inward peace away from the endless cravings.
According to Buddhist dogma, our suffering is consequent to resistance of what is; whatever crystal palace of meaning conceived atop the blue sky, worshipped and seen as permanent: it all crashes under the weight of reality. The two are one, really, if we step into the Zen perspective:
Paint it yellow and call it gold but you’re still birthing an illusion on top of another illusion…
It’s like banging your head against a silver mountain, it’s like running up against an iron wall, you’re left with nothing to chew on but that flavorless meaningless indestructible matter, there is not other thought upon which to crouch.
The Illusory Man – Zhongfeng Mingben (4)
I don’t feel I have an unshakable reason that justifies my existence (5) or informs me of how to spend it in the world meaningfully – in short I haven’t been able to answer the age old question:
What does it mean to live a good life?; and
Understand this, what actions do I take to move towards that good life?
My preference is toward inquisition, semantics and debate, I observe polar arguments for their merits and faults as a second nature. This makes it hard for me to place faith or truth in any idea. As I have inquired into myself, our cultural and my default programming, I’ve continued to find frustration in this. For example, my default desire is to be an entrepreneur, monetize creations and create abundance using vehicles like business. However, when I look at the broader view of the business world it seems… empty in a pessimistic analysis. Never ending competition, Hobbes’ war of all against all told and retold.
What for?
I ask myself.
But that is Nature. Nature is and doesn’t care.
I reply.
Yet, I’m not satisfied. This seems to be my particular flavour of stupidity (or humanness): idealism and the search for a method to achieve it. I cannot help but wonder, are we prisoners to that feeling which the Romantic Jean Paul describes, and hence enduringly desirous of “liberation”:
Weltschmerz (german: “world pain”)… a literary concept describing the feeling experienced by an individual who believes that reality can never satisfy the expectations of the mind, resulting in “a mood of weariness or sadness about life arising from the acute awareness of evil and suffering”
I enter the free flow sauna and there is relaxed ambience of chatter as I rise to the third level and sit palms open waiting to receive.
Why palms up?
A twisted revelation I’ve been told through treading, if I’m permitted a sidebar, which frustrates us humans is that: one doesn’t “seek” for “God”, “Satori”, “Enlightenment”, “Reality”, “Peace”, “Grace”, whatever innumerable words; seeking is the obstacle. Instead it comes to you. But you cannot earnestly lament and flog yourself to receive it – though it can feel satisfying to do so in a sort of sadistic self torture or pity – but insight comes if it does or it doesn’t. You see now, how all of this can be but a precious waste of time… but we are irrational, or at least I can be, so, I plan to sit and breath until I feel my heart beating out of my chest or the “Me” dissolves in the heat.
The “Free Flow” protocol recommends three self-directed rounds of sauna to cold plunge in the timespan of 75 minutes. Othership, as I’ve experienced it, has been designed with the intention toward socializing and vulnerability to promote belongingness; even the tag line to my “Free Flow” experience is an opportunity to be yourself. But, while I love to socialize, too much at times, I’m equally aware of my desire for exploration. Which is in this situation what the “Me” has decided it is looking to do.
Conversations swirls about the sauna and I observe dispassionately with integration. My body approaches the 80% point and I feel my heart pounding as if demanding to take the first plunge. Slinking outside the sauna doors, I feel a little unsteady as I make my way to and from the showers, and then to the platform above the water basin. I take deep breath and crawl in, dunking my head and opening palms again. Exhaling with a “Shh” sound described by the Sound Immersion guide Arkaya, I observe the physical discomfort I’m feeling. The discomfort is different in subtle ways each time, like modern yoga, yet the cold always possesses a venerable bite of raw piercing winter
I sit until I find a sort of numbing serenity in the cold. Although I’m resisting, something curious begins to happen: I feel my heart beat slow and take in the texture of its pulse. It begins to pound as my body stills, small intervals, and I witness ripples out from my body like a tribal drum beat: the sound of my life. It’s beating so slow now, I start worrying if I’m in danger, but I’m oddly clear. I know this is safe but my mind races. I wonder what my heart rate is, I think its in the 40-50s range maybe lower, it feels like a tranquil deceleration, but the “Me” is concerned it will go to zero.
I start self-soothing. Short whispers to myself from Timothy Leary’s Heart Chakra Beginning Voyage meditation:
Drift To The Center,
Drift To Center.
Can You Flow…
Like Fiery Blood,
Through Each Tissue Corridor?
Throb… To the Pulse of Life.
That pulse… my heart beat.
I exit the tub with a heart beating ever so delicately. I am responsive and aware, even exchanging a short smile to the person leaving the room, but also, I’m not there. The “Me” is not buzzing around or at least is doing so quietly. I confusingly find my towel and return to the sauna. My body is shivering when I enter and it takes longer to reacclimatize to the heat to reach sweating point. In this sitting and observation, the “Me” has returns and decided to do the next plunge when my heart starts racing again. As I sit, I start holding my hand over my heart, trying to project wellbeing into the room and gratitude for the opportunity to engage in experiences like this (7). I imagine pulling stability and wellness from the earth and exhaling it out into the room to the people around me (and possibly myself).
Several organic & downtempo house tracks play their course and time passes in my seated position. My heart rate has slowly inclined and is now reaching the pounding point again. I resolve to return to the freezing water. My body feels worn and loose like a sagging table cloth but I seem to be enjoying the enduring these extremes. Inwardly, I’m listening to the “warden” of my inner critic (who delightfully takes an authoritative tone of Nietzsche to me); it is desiring to “discipline” myself, to “overcome” myself, to “become stronger”, to “be better”, et cetera. All of this is, of course, a flight from a deep inner feeling of weakness; that I am in fact “not good enough” when measuring myself against the cultural ideal, even traditional masculinity and the world. As a person, I am quite affected by the human experience, sentimental, passionate, overcome at times by beauty, tragedy, sadness and the perils of existence. All of this, according to my inner critic, is deeply un-masculine and a cause to abandon myself in pursuit of a “better self”.
I’m now standing above the water but in fear this time. I’m scared that my heart beat will slow much more. I’m afraid I cannot handle it or that I will fail to “stay in long enough” (i.e., I will jump out as soon as I enter). I’m afraid that I will succumb to my weakness and sensitivity to prove the inner critic right. I enter.
The second plunge is more uncomfortable, I feel my core freezing, my organs and torso numbing. Yet, this time I feel an honest authentic fear, afraid to feel this discomfort and overwhelm. Again, I know this is safe, but the “Me” is in terror. My open palms are above the water and I notice my elbows losing sensation to winter’s grip.
My worrying starts:
Does this positioning make circulation harder?
What if I pass out?
What if I can’t handle this?
I submerge my hands but the discomfort worsens. I feel numbness crawl to the waterline at the base of my neck; the only definition I feel of myself is the contrast of my head above water. I start to think my body might be “shutting down”, that my heart is slowing down again and I might be dying.
I lay my head back against the tub and the discomfort is so much.
I don’t want to be here anymore, but I do.
I don’t want to let go, but I do.
I don’t want to yield into this “shutting down” & “dying” feeling but I do.
I want to surrender into it but I’m so bloody terrified.
Lubomir Arsov – Fear from In Shadow.
I feel myself begin to sob from this inner pressure; the cold water is a winter’s embrace, its unrelenting grip squeezing the life out of me, killing the “Me”. I feel tears dripping from my eyes and a sense of shame for wanting to yield into this ending. I open my eyes briefly and see people on the benches around looking at me. The feeling of shame intensifies so I close my eyes again, as I wonder if I’m being judged for being so weak, for sobbing like a child.
After several seconds, I squeeze my hands and feel my body release in the water. I stand up in the water now, whimpering. I want to exit the tub but part of me also wants to stay standing in the feeling; standing in the face of “dying” and discomfort. Eventually, I pull myself out and sit on the nearby bench quivering like a disturbed animal. I notice how cold my legs are. So cold. Have I ever felt my legs this cold before? Do my legs even work anymore? (Of course they do). Again, I’m aware, clear, I’m here, but also not. Moments pass by and I walk back to the sauna and assume the sitting position once again.
The experience is coming to a close with the last snowball thrown onto the stove and aromas diffusing as guides indicate timing to us. I decide to proceed with one final ice bath to “complete” the voyage – despite feeling little resolution towards my initial goal (I still have no idea what my vision is). I know my body isn’t remotely warm enough to “buffer” the shock in a final attempt without difficulty. As I sit with the last souls, I desperately want to find that feeling of surrender and ending again. I want to release into the void and terror, but instead I start giggling like a evil doll in a horror movie. Recalling a statement from the former YouTuber Elliot Hulse, years ago I’m partially relieved:
The muscular structure associated with crying is the same as that used to laugh. So, you wouldn’t be able to laugh if you couldn’t also cry.
I’m laughing. Laughing at the discomfort I’m feeling, laughing at the thrill of what is happening, laughing at my desire to hold on, laughing at the strangeness of my experience.
As I exit the tub, someone asks me:
Guide: Are you okay? Having a moment?
Me: Many. (Laughing and crying)
The session ends.
The sauna + ice bath protocol is designed in service of creating “peak experiences” to enable transformation in a safe way (I’m told). I’m not sure what it is about it, maybe its entirely human, but such experiences as trigger a “reach out” instinct in me. I always want to embrace and hug someone – glad that I’m alive. Maybe the armor of the “Me” is dissolved, and the inner child is free to love outwardly. Perhaps instead of disciplining the child with all this work, as I thought I’ve been doing, I’ve been disciplining the “Me” into submission.
Seeing into one’s nature and the attainment of Buddhahood
Four of Tenants of Zen Buddahism
Yet, this peak experience, in a social atmosphere left me out of balance and oddly without words, especially given such an emotional journey. I probably don’t feel emotions much more strongly than others, but their irrational nature terrifies me. My prior coach Vicky whom I worked with once asked me, “What your ideal self would look like?”, my reply was, somewhat immaturely, a robot: unfeeling, unthinking, efficient, productive, resilience, unburdened… unhuman. Its been a common theme threaded through my life, resistance and embarrassment towards feeling so much, a part of myself which for a long time I’ve yearned to be rid of.
Yet, as Ken Page describes in his book, Deeper Dating (8):
The parts you despise within in yourself, are also the source of your greatest gifts.
Or Nietzsche:
Be careful when you cast out your demons that you don’t throw away the best of yourself.
As I exit the “ship” into the lobby, I feel somewhat out-of-whack. I have a certain esteem for my command of words at times, so to be without words or knowing what to ask for is a horrible feeling. I knew instinctively what I was missing, integration, some sort of comfort or reassurance in what I just experienced was normal – that I’m not banana sandwich, or at least if I am, that’s why. So I clumsily asked a women at the front desk whether they had advice about the emotional side of these journeys. She called over a guide while I stared into the burning incense confused.
In what I assume to be an altered state of consciousness causal to high concentration of dopamine (9), a radiant warm glow of nurturing acceptance swept through the room as a guide named Ashley opened her arms towards me. We embraced and I started to cry again. This woman just stood with an intense inner calm and unshakable world, attempting to calm me down. She explained part of her journey and the personal transformations obtained through her experience cold plunges. She asked me if this resonated, but I could not explain all of what had happened and why I felt the way I did. Everything I felt, what I saw, each low and high hill top, the start in the Ego, the vise of the cold squeezing life from me, dissolution of Ego, the renewal of Ego; the dying, the surrender, the laughing; why did surrender into the cold feel so horrible yet right at once? Will I find my way, what is my vision, will my confusion end? et cetera.
As she departed to the next class I thanked her, we hugged once more and she encouraged me to come speak with her again.
I spent the remainder of the evening in awe and laughing to myself – what is it all for, why did I care? Why am I trying to be something other than what I am ?
The psychedelic writers mention:
We get exactly what we want, but not how we think we wanted it.
Maybe the future looks more like the past?
A continual voyage to unencumber the layers acquired in pursuit of something other than what I am . As mentioned in “Help, I’m 20“:
The psychologist CG Jung, of “unconscious” notoriety, noted that the human being’s life and journey of “individuation” followed a rather circular shape. Not pointlessly and unredeemable in the case of Sisyphus but with a directional anchor — a spiral. To Jung, this fascinating structure of “individuation” and the “Self” was most accurately captured within Mandala symbolism. Despite this, the individual — at least with his orientation aimed at the union of conscious and unconscious content in discovering his total personality (“Self” in Jung’s terminology) — inches endlessly nearer the center with each rotation, acquiring magnification and greater resolution but never seems able to fully touch the treasure laid bare.
Spirals recurring, re-learning, re-viewing experiences with new lenses and palettes; not unlike civilization described by Vico’s Ricorso in The New Science, the flavours the divine, the heroic, and the human. There is a sense of awe, to me, in the fractal symmetry – between – the individual life and that of the human history. Perhaps it is true as Krishnamurti poses in the lectures with David Bohem:
The entirety of humanity, millions of years of experience, ideas, confusion and so on lives in you.
Maybe that recurrent realization and “reach out” reaction is how you finally wake up.
The last thoughts I had that evening as I laid down to sleep was:
My heart is happy, and my mind is quiet.
For that I am thankful.
(Also, thank you Ashley)
Footnotes
(1) See Using Light (Sunlight, Blue Light & Red Light) to Optimize Health | Huberman Lab Podcast #68
(2) Jung refers to the unconscious as a spiritually influenced entity, theorizing medieval alchemists were “working with” when they performed their primitive alchemical experiments and preached their philosophies. “From this point of view, alchemy seems like a continuation of Christian mysticism carried on in the subterranean darkness of the unconscious” See Carl Jung Psychology & Alchemy
(3) See Michael Pollen’s How To Change Your Mind (Amazon Affiliate Link)
(4) See Zhongfeng Mingben – The Illusory Man (Amazon Affiliate Link)
(5) Why I need one is cause for an alternate meditation in the future. I hope to discuss discoveries I have found within Enneagram framework for personality typology.
(6) See Tibetan Book of the Dead (Amazon Affiliate Link)
(7) Maitrī also known as and most easily pronounce “mettā” (met-ah) means benevolence or loving-kindness. It is a practice of Buddhist meditation. See Wikipedia.
(8) See Ken Page – Deeper Dating (Amazon Affiliate Link)
(9) See Huberman Lab Cold Exposure