Alan Watts was the foremost interpreter
of Eastern thought, in particular Zen Buddhism, to the West. His
books on the philosophy and psychology of religion have been in great
demand over the last thirty years.
So says a small biography of Watts on the
back of his seminal book The Wisdom of Insecurity, first
published in 1954. I have read the book. Twice. It's 136 pages long.
More than that, I have listened to and tried to digest the multitude
of spoken word recordings made when he was still alive. Alan died
in his sleep in 1973.
When I was young,
up until the page of about twelve, I prayed to God. I remember how my
prayers ended every night:
“I love you God.
Please make that love last until the day I die.”
I don't know why,
or where, I stopped believing. I was raised in the archetypal Irish
Catholic tradition. God was not just something to believe in, it was
omnipresent in school, Sundays and society in general. I was often
told that God loved me more than I could possibly imagine. It left a
mark.
But somewhere
around my mid-teens, I stopped believing. Not by decision, just by
happening. There was perhaps, an occasion or two, when I deduced that it simply wasn't possible that God existed. But generally, it
felt like an encroaching truth instead of a revelation. Clearly,
there was no God.
And then came
rebellion. I turned against religion. It made me angry. There was
ample outlet for such expression. The fevered nihilism of hardcore punk was a soundtrack to the reasoned
atheism of philosophers and science. But in University, it really
hit me in the emotional gut. Horrible things are perfectly capable of
happening to the people I love. And there is absolutely nothing I can
do about it. Argh!!
Godlessness started to shape who I was. I came to believe in secularism. I
didn't want religion or God anywhere near my life, my liberty or the
pursuit of my happiness. This probably still describes my view of the
world. Religion should be available for all, but in no kind
of way that forces others to go along.
Of course there was some kind of void. Not because everyone needs spirituality or religion; rather, because it was undeniable part of my childhood experience. God started to appear again. I was spellbound by the concept of rehabilitation of addicts through the twelve-step programme. The serenity prayer is one of the most profound things I've come across.
“God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change to things I can; and the wisdom to know the difference.”
Is that really just for people who believe in God? I know more atheists than I count who could benefit from it. And religious people too!
In the last few years, I've discovered the new age form of spirituality commonly
known as mindfulness. The Power Of Now by
Eckhart Tolle is a book that I will never forget reading. It offered
up the kind of content I thought impossible.
And
then came Alan Watts. A well-spoken Englishman who found himself
transfixed by Eastern spirituality. Having come to recognise the ego
and its folly through Tolle, Watts seemed to suggest that discarding
it was as possible as using an ashtray on a motorbike. He spoke about
the Middle Way and made me wonder what Buddhism and Hinduism were
all about. .
I try to meditate.
And therein is the problem. I try too hard. But there have been some
profound moments. One day, while walking by the river, I went over Watts' words and started to feel like I had gone to another planet. I tried to tell a friend once and
saw her drift away into thoughts of: “Oh my God, are you okay?”
Watts' biggest
impression on me is his emphasis of duality. You cannot be happy if
you are not sometimes sad. As soon as you struggle with the Universe,
you are in conflict with it. And you are going to lose. Yes, you're an
individual. But you are just a small part of something indescribably
bigger. So remember to take it easy. Each good and bad moment at a
time.
Note: That is not a
satisfactory analysis of Alan Watts and his philosophy. Please don't
let me turn you off!
I don't know much
about Alan Watts as a person. I've read that he struggled with
alcoholism. In a very strange way, this is some sort of comfort. He
often spoke about the fallacy of idolatry. However, it does trouble me
that he may have been a victim of malignant thoughts and behaviours
he seemed so easily to dismantle. But I think that's confusing the
messenger for the message. I like that he was human.
Maybe this kind of
thing makes sense to some people more than others. I wondered whether
or not something like this was worth writing. Part of me wants to
keep such things personal. But the larger part of me
wants to say something about it. And
there it is.
