Intimate tensions and inner conflicts (which oppose the mind and the body or, more prosaically, the amygdala and the neo-cortex) can result in a dangerous loss of selfcontrol, or to a feeling of imbalance and unease. We find the same aspiration at the heart of the basic teachings of Hinduism, Taoism and Buddhism: we must overcome the inner conflicts and imbalances that cause us to suffer and that bind both us and our humanity. The natural state of the individual is to be ‘in tension’, to be torn between the demands of the conscious mind that strives to be in control and the emotions and passions that take possession of the mind, the body and the heart. Spiritual healing involves a quest for inner harmony, introspection and self-liberation. This immersion in the ‘self’ has several objectives. It involves introspection, attempting to distance ourselves from our immediate emotional reactions by trying to identify, observe and contemplate them so as to gain control over them. This ‘entry into oneself’ also reveals the essence of things, of presence in the world, and of the presence of the world. Distancing ourselves from our selves whilst at the same time striving to achieve deep insight is therefore associated with elevating consciousness above the physical dimension of the elements with a view to understanding their metaphysical meaning and their inscription within the cosmos. This dialogue between the intimate microcosm and the infinite cosmos reveals a third dimension that sheds light on the essence of the soul, the intelligence of the heart and the meaning of death. The initiation can be long and difficult, and the stages of these teachings are bound up with the understanding of the self and control over the emotions. That understanding and control represent a stage in the journey towards inner mastery and then ultimate transcendence (which brings both harmony and peace as the self fuses with the Whole). This final stage may have the substance and form of an emotional disposition, but that disposition has been oriented by the conscious mind, educated by reason and mastered and transcended during this initiation into being. Our era appears to have deceived us by confusing certain emotional states with spiritual states: there can indeed be no spirituality without emotion but, whilst our emotions can turn us into ‘purely reactive objects’ or even slaves devoid of will power and freedom, spirituality requires us to become conscious subjects once more, and to seek the meaning of both the instant moment of impulse and the infinite cycles of fate. Emotion is that dimension of the subject that is expressed in the being’s immediate reactivity; spirituality is what the subject discovers and expresses through mastered education of that being.
Ancient philosophy had the same ambitions. The mind–body dualism of the Greeks posited the apparently objective existence of two agencies, but the rationale behind the entire philosophical experience was the attempt to reconcile and harmonize them. The soul, the spirit or reason had to take control of the body and our inner machine or animal in order to give our being access to the higher level of its humanity. The being who was a slave to its passions becomes a ‘lover of wisdom’ (which is the etymological meaning of ‘philosopher’), and is then attracted to and called by Beauty. Both the physical ‘beauty’ that can subdue the instincts, emotion and the body, and the metaphysical Beauty that appeals to the mind, the inner inspiration and the soul teach us a philosophical lesson that is akin to giving birth or breaking one’s chains. This individual experience is as profound as that of the individual who, in the ‘cave allegory’, turns his gaze away from the flickering pictures he can see and understands the nature of the illusion that binds him. He resolves to free himself, to seek the light, the fire and then the sun. He enters into himself, and then emerges from himself. He was a prisoner, but now he is free . . . even though all the prisoners, who are drowning in the illusion of the spontaneous emotions that bind them, judge his wisdom to be his madness and his prison.
Judaism, Christianity and Islam have also codified the meaning of this shared spiritual experience. Their rites are the means or educational exercises that initiate us into this return to the self, this reconciliation and this quest for harmony. Many of their teachings are the same, but there are also significant differences between them. The Christian tradition’s ‘original sin’ reveals something about the nature of human beings that is not very far removed from the traditional teachings of Hinduism and Buddhism, even though they start out from very different premises. The state of natural tension and the suffering that is both primal and consubstantial with being and consciousness in the Eastern traditions appears to correspond to the meaning of the intrinsically sinful nature of man in the Christian tradition. Suffering and evil are both states from which man must deliver himself either through the extinction of the ego or through salvation, but in both cases man is expected to consciously choose introspection or self-mastery (no matter whether grace is sufficient or efficacious) Socratic philosophy makes the same demand; it identifies the emotions with the body, and the body with the world of the senses, with relative truths, and especially with the chains of the passions. The Islamic tradition is somewhat different and takes the view that the body and the ‘soul in the body’ (an-nafs) have no intrinsic qualities, and that their qualities depend on how the human consciousness uses both the body and the soul: the body that exults in sexuality whilst remaining true to ethics can express a prayer, just as the soul that betrays the principles of ethics can express the most extreme evil. What is more, man’s original state is that of the harmony of a being that is naturally drawn to the divine element that will grant it peace. It is the veiling of that state of nature that distracts the heart from the initial call by creating tension and unease, and by making the heart ‘ill’ and in search of a cure. There is no mention here of a ‘fall’ or of the need for a Saviour in the Christian sense. The Islamic tradition speaks of a veil that envelops the heart and requires a consciousness. As Asian spiritualities teach us, consciousness has the ability to free itself. The conception of man is very different, but the spiritual teachings and objectives of initiation are ultimately the same: we must become self-aware, identify and master the nature and power of the emotions, and thus find harmony and a higher form of freedom. Despite that we may think when we experience emotions, freedom does not lie in the spontaneous expression of affects, but in the mastery that sets free the conscious and rational part of our being. As we saw when we were discussing music, freedom is the product of discipline and mastery.
The contemporary psychological sciences – from psychoanalysis to ethnopsychoanalysis and behaviourism – are attempting to achieve similar objectives: selfknowledge, an inner equilibrium, autonomy and an awareness of being confident and assured ‘subjects’ (despite the uncontrollable elements that have been with us for generations and/or since early childhood). Spirituality is not, however, just a quest for equilibrium and freedom: this entry into oneself, this handling of inner conflicts, this initiation to rational and reasonable management of emotions is determined by the ‘quest for meaning’ we have already mentioned. Emotion is a programmed response to the meaning of signals and stimuli, whilst the characteristic feature of spirituality is that it is a choice, a free decision to determine for oneself the meaning of our existence, of life and of our friendships and loves as well as the cosmos. Contemporary thinkers such as André Comte-Sponville suggest that there may be such a thing as a godless (or secular) spirituality that refers to no spiritual tradition and no religion, and that may be absolutely atheist.[1] The inspiration behind that theory would appear to be the humanist rationality that produces meaning. Once again, the goals are the same: being oneself, being reasonable, being free and choosing one’s own path.
Thank you Mr Ramadan, I’m Christian, but I can see that there is something common and essential beyond mine and your religion. You ‘re helping me a lot to understand a real meaning of religion. Ana (Sibenik, Croatia)
Hello Mr. Ramadan, thank you for your words. I am interested in finding out more about Islam, and as someone who sees a common thread in the various religious and spiritual traditions your writings encourage me. Very often I feel Islam is presented as being defined only by the 5 pillars and the 6 articles of faith, or a list of codes and rituals. For an outsider, this explanation can seem incomplete and lacking in context. Is this all? I often find myself wondering, where, in these explanations, is the heart of this religion; the origin of the sweetness and grace that I see in so many Muslim people I know? It seems to me that these things that can be offered as definitions are guidelines for wise living and discipline, but they have no life in themselves, and that the real essence is a living ‘channel’ that we are drawn towards (and that these guidelines for living help us to approach): spirituality. I don’t know if you would agree that their is a paucity of attempts, or even an aversion, to discussing this essence in an Islamic context (or if you would even agree with my attempted description of it), but I thank you again for your work. It is enlightening and inspiring.