Day 30: My Last Day as a Hindu

Today is my last official day as a Hindu. That’s probably a good thing, because I’m leaving in just a little while and heading down to Texas, where I’m sure I’ll be tempted to eat a lot more meat than the little bit of turkey I sneaked at Thanksgiving. Barbecue, here I come!

Although I will definitely NOT miss being a vegetarian, there are a lot of things about my time as a Hindu that I will miss.

For starters, there’s my good buddy Ganesha, who always keeps me smiling and makes me realize that God may be more accessible (at least to me) in some forms than in others.

Strange as it may sound, given my track record, I’ll also kind of miss meditation. Although there’s no question that I am absolutely terrible at tuning out the chatter of the world, and especially my own mind, the discipline of forcing myself to sit down and focus, even for just a little while each day, is something I sorely need.

Most of all, I’ll miss the amazing variety of choices that Hinduism offers. I know I haven’t experienced much beyond my own Catholic upbringing yet, so I don’t know what all the other religions that are still to come will hold, but one of the things I have loved about being Hindu is how you get to pick whatever you like best. If you like worldly success, you can choose the Path of Desire. If you’re bored of earthly pleasures, you can choose the Path of Renunciation. If you like working, you can try karma yoga. If you’re a loving, emotional person, you can choose bhakti yoga. There are plenty of options, and none of them is “better” than any other.

Unlike the church I grew up in, where there was one form of God and one basic path to salvation that everyone had to accept, Hinduism offers a myriad of ways to find God, so there’s something for every taste. It’s definitely one of the most appealing aspects of Hinduism to me. At this point, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if I came back to Hinduism—and to good old Ganesha—after my year of exploration is over. I guess we’ll have to see.

Day 28: The Paths of Desire and Renunciation

Okay, so I had a little turkey at Thanksgiving, completely blowing my vegetarian commitment, but in the grand scheme of things, it was good because it made me realize something about myself: I am NOT cut out to be an ascetic.

Hinduism has a long tradition of asceticism—just think of Gandhi and his extreme fasts. All I can say is that I am no Gandhi. I like to eat. A lot. I like to enjoy the occasional alcoholic beverage (or two or three . . .). And I just don’t have the patience or endurance to sit for hours in peaceful, solitary meditation. I start going crazy after just a few minutes.

But that doesn’t necessarily mean I can’t be a good Hindu. Hinduism says that people can lead their lives based on two alternate paths: desire and renunciation.

The Path of Desire encompasses more than just having fun, eating good food, and avoiding hard work or pain. It also includes the drive for worldly success. So you can walk the Path of Desire without turning into a useless hedonist. Trying to achieve great things in your career or hobby is just as valid a lifestyle choice as turning away from the world and focusing on prayer and meditation (which is a good thing, because it seems to be the only way I’m able to function—at least at this stage of my life).

Eventually, however, even the greatest achievements and the most sumptuous pleasures no longer seem to be quite so fulfilling, although Hindus are careful to remind us that not all of us will get sick of worldly pleasure during our current lifetime. We’re simply not all at the same place in the progress of our souls. As Huston Smith puts it, “Two people, both forty-six, are the same age chronologically, but psychologically one may be still a child and the other an adult.” Yup. That sounds right to me. In fact, I have to say that I don’t know a whole lot of “adults.”

It’s important to stick with the Path of Desire until you truly and deeply feel the need for something more. Turning away from the pleasures of the world too soon would be like being a child who never gets the chance to play with toys—which would be a really crappy existence. Only when life’s “toys” no longer hold any interest for you are you ready to embark on the Path of Renunciation.

People seek the Path of Renunciation when they become convinced that there’s more to life than working to make more money and living a lifestyle filled with pleasure, when the things you once valued begin to seem trivial. When that happens, Hindus say, we renounce our self-centered quest for success and fun and look for something greater—which usually turns out to be service to the community.

People on the Path of Renunciation feel a duty toward the community around them, and they use their lives to try to make the world a better place. This sense of duty to others is one of the noblest aims of our existence, according to Hindus. It turns our desire to “get” into a desire to “give.”

Fulfilling this duty to the community requires hard work and sacrifice, but it’s kind of like being an athlete: You give up small pleasures (like lying around watching TV and eating junk food) in order to get greater rewards later (like a win in a big game or an Olympic medal). In the long run, the sacrifice brings a satisfaction that is greater than any petty, everyday pleasure.

At least, that’s the theory. Me? I’m still firmly on the Path of Desire, and I don’t see that changing anytime soon. Now, I’m going to go watch some TV and maybe eat a bag of potato chips. Hey, I told you I wasn’t Gandhi.

Day 25: Thanksgiving and Hinduism

It’s Thanksgiving, at least here in the United States, so I’m keeping today’s entry short and sweet so I can go do the whole family thing. Although Hindus don’t necessarily have a “Thanksgiving” holiday of their own, many, if not all, of their festivals do contain an element of the American tradition of giving thanks to God for all the good things in life.

The Bhagavad Gita says that people should always be humble and grateful to the Divine, and Hindus always make a point of saying thank you to God for all the blessings in their lives.

It’s interesting to note that a Hindu yoga master named Paramhamsa Yogananda once claimed that Abraham Lincoln, the U.S. president who made Thanksgiving a national holiday in 1863, was the reincarnation of a former Himalayan yogi. As Richard Salva writes in his book Soul Journey: From Lincoln to Lindbergh (which looks just strange enough to be interesting--see the link below), “President Lincoln repeatedly chose Thursdays as national days of prayer, fasting, and thanksgiving. This was interesting, because Thursday is considered a holy day—a day for prayer, fasting, and spiritual reflection—among Hindus. . . .”

Whatever you think about the plausibility of the theory that Lincoln was the reincarnation of a yogi (who was later reincarnated once again as the aviator Charles Lindbergh), Thanksgiving is definitely something to which Hindus can relate. So, for now, I’ll leave you with a prayer of thanks (to my favorite god, Ganesha):

Om, Ganesha!

Thank you, Ganesha, for the wonderful fulfillment you have brought into my life.

I show gratitude by giving abundantly to the temple where you receive and answer my prayers.

Your divine energy is the blossoming origin of love.

Praise to you who are the source of all sweetness.

I take refuge in grateful surrender at your holy feet.

Om, Ganesha!

And now, back to the family. Ugh. Happy Thanksgiving, everybody!

Day 24: Kali

I’m pissed off today (okay, I know, what else is new?). So instead of trying to delve into something deep and meaningful, I thought it would be a good day to talk a little about my favorite Hindu goddess, Kali.

Kali is a goddess of destruction. Sometimes called “the Dark Mother,” she is depicted with blue or black skin and a big red tongue sticking out of her mouth. She has four arms and she carries a sword in one hand and a demon head in another. Around her neck she wears a long chain made up of human skulls, and her girdle is made out of cut-off human hands. She’s scary-looking—and she looks about as pissed off as I feel most of the time, which is probably why I like her so much.

Hindu mythology says that the fearsome Kali was born because of a huge battle. The tale goes that the world had been overrun by demons (that sounds a lot like my town). The gods were doing their best to fight off the evil forces, but even all together, they were losing the fight. They breathed all their power at once and, from that great roar, a warrior goddess named Durga was born.

She was a mighty force, but even she couldn’t hold back the demons. Upset at her lack of success, she frowned, and from her knitted brow the goddess Kali sprang forth, with a weapon in her hand and a lust for demon blood in her heart. With Kali’s help, Durga pushed back the demons and restored peace to the world.

Another story says that Kali got a little carried away during the battle. She started destroying not just demons but everything in sight. The god Shiva became alarmed and threw himself on the ground in front of Kali to stop the rampage. She was shocked to see him and stuck out her tongue—which is why most images of Kali show her with a jutting tongue and standing on top of Shiva.

With the mood I’m in, the image of an angry goddess kicking some demon ass is rather appealing to me. But, unlike me, Kali has a softer side. Besides just being a force of destruction, she has been depicted as a mother and as a lover. And even as the goddess of destruction, she has a positive motive: to protect the world from evil.

Kali’s scary appearance actually holds deeper meaning, too. The sword she carries in one of her four hands is intended to cut through our illusions and help us see what’s really important. She has two empty hands. One of them blesses her followers and the other is held up to tell us “Fear not!” The girdle of disembodied hands she wears around her waist symbolizes how we can use our work in the various yogas to achieve liberation from the cycle of karma and reincarnation.

Kali isn’t necessarily a pleasant image—probably because she reminds us a little too much of death. But she also reminds us, as writer Patricia Monaghan explains, that “As long as we are unconscious of the presence of death, we are unconscious to life itself.”

Kali isn’t just a destroyer. She brings us freedom—freedom from our slave-like attachment to the world and our petty, everyday concerns, and the freedom to focus instead on the more important things, the things that last, like beauty, kindness, and love.

I like that. But for now, I think I’ll stick with the destruction. There are a few demons out there that I’d like to get my hands on.

Day 23: The Stages of Life

With all the ups and downs I’ve been going through lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about life and what constitutes success and happiness. I’ve been through many different phases of life and had my share of accomplishments, but there are times—more than I like to admit—when I feel like my life is not at all what it should have been. I feel like I should be doing something that I’m not doing, or maybe like I’ve missed a step somewhere along the way.

Hinduism says that, although all people are different, we all move through four basic stages of life. The first stage—being a student—traditionally began in India somewhere between the ages of 8 and 12, and lasted for 12 years. The main goal during the student period is (obviously) to learn. But the stage of the student isn’t just about going to school, reading widely, and absorbing the wisdom of teachers and elders. It’s also about developing character and the good habits that will serve us for the rest of our lives.

I did my time as a student (and yes, I do mean “did time” as a reference to prison, since that’s pretty much what school felt like to me). In fact, I was a very good student. Even though school was boring, I did what I was supposed to do and I did it well in general. I think where I screwed up was in the part about cultivating good habits. Rather than developing a sense of discipline in me, my days in school merely taught me how to do as little as possible to get by. I’m thinking that’s not quite what the Hindus had in mind for the student stage. 

The second stage of life is that of the “householder.” Traditionally, it starts when you get married and is the time when you build a family, advance your career, and become an established part of the larger community.

I’ve done a pretty crappy job on this stage so far, too. Yeah, I got married—and divorced. I bought a house—and it’s currently up for sale because it’s just too damn expensive now that the economy has gone to hell. So pretty soon I’ll be a divorced, childless, former householder whose “career” consists of sitting at home editing manuscripts and occasionally ranting about world religions online. Oh, yeah. That’s a big success.

Maybe instead of wallowing in my failure at the two stages of life I’ve experienced, I should look ahead to the third stage: retirement. Okay, I guess everybody looks forward to retirement, but Hindus tell us that retiring is not just about leaving your job, playing with your grandkids, and maybe moving to a condo in a warm climate to play shuffleboard. The stage of retirement—which traditionally begins when your first grandchild is born—is supposed to be a time of adult education. Now that your obligations to the working world are over, you focus your attention on learning what life is all about and figuring out your own personal philosophy. As Huston Smith puts it, “To find meaning in the mystery of existence is life’s final and fascinating challenge.”

Well, I’ve got to say, it doesn’t look promising that I'll personally ever reach the retirement stage. First off, I have no kids, and therefore, won’t have any grandchildren. And at the pathetic rate my bank account is building, I have my doubts that I’ll ever be able to withdraw entirely from the working world. Oh, well. I guess we’ll just have to ignore the obvious holes in my life and see what’s next.

The fourth and final stage of life is that of the sannyasin, or “one who neither hates nor loves anything,” according to the Bhagavad Gita. After spending the retirement years searching deeply for meaning and doing the hard work of figuring out who you are and what your place is in the mystery of life, you return to the world a new person. You exist, in the words of Huston Smith, as “a complete nonentity on the surface in order to be joined to all at roots.” In the Hindu tradition, the sannyasin is perfectly content living on the street with a begging bowl in hand.

Wow. That really doesn’t sound like something I’d enjoy. I guess we’ll see. But I’m definitely nowhere near ready for it now. I’ll somehow have to find a way to make it successfully through the other stages if I ever hope to become a sannyasin.

So maybe now is the time to start from scratch. I can be a student again. Why not? I’ve known people who were in their 40s and 50s who never left college or got jobs. I can sure as hell start learning again at the age of 38. So let’s run with that idea.

Being a student now seems just about right, considering how lost I feel doing this project. We can consider this phase of my life a "do over" for my original student stage. I'll do it all over again. Then I can move on to become a householder (and this time, I’ll do it better). Then I can be a retiree and maybe, eventually, even a sannyasin. Who cares if I’m well past the traditional maximum age of the Hindu student, 20 to 24? People are always saying things like “40 is the new 20,” so I hereby boldly declare that 38 is the new 18. That works, right?

Day 22: Om

A lot of religions have symbols that make it easy to identify them—the Christian cross and the Jewish Star of David, for example. The Hindu Om may be one of the most recognizable sacred symbols (see picture below). But it’s more than just a graphic reminder of the Hindu faith. It’s in and of itself a way to connect with the Brahman—the eternal and absolute divine.

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The word Om (or Aum) comes from the combination of three Sanskrit letters: aa, au, and ma. Together, Hindus believe, they make a sound that contains all possible sounds. (Okay, so I know my Sanskrit sucks, but as someone whose name begins with a T, I find this concept just a tad confusing. But let’s roll with it.)

According the Upanishads, the first sound of Aum—A—represents the first of the three states of consciousness: the state of waking. The U represents the state of dreaming. And the M represents the state of sleeping, without dreams—the sleep of real peace.

Put together, the three sounds create a fourth state: “supreme consciousness.” The Upanishads say that this state of consciousness is “beyond the senses and is the end of evolution. It is non-duality and love.”

Om is more than just a word, though. Ideally, you don’t so much say it as intone it, like music. When properly chanted, or vibrated, it allows a person to move beyond the physical body and, according to the Prasna Upanishad, become “united with the effulgent Sun.”

By chanting Om, we can realize “that which is tranquil, free from decay, death and fear and which is the Highest.” Hinduism says that Om is “the beginning, middle, and end of all things. He who has realized Aum as immutable immediately attains the Supreme Reality.”

I’ve got to say that I love the idea of boiling everything down to one single syllable. I also love the notion that one symbol can not only serve as a reminder of what you should be doing all day, every day—trying to get closer to God—but can actually bring you closer to God.

I’m big on visual reminders in general. Maybe it’s because I have a short attention span or because (I admit it) I can be a little ditzy, but having a visual symbol (like my own personal Om ring—see picture below) to keep me focused really helps. And if chanting the sound of that symbol can also, as the Katha Upanishad says, allow me to obtain all I desire, than I say “All righty!” Sounds great.

So I think I’ll be using Om a lot. I’ve read that many Hindus wear an Om as a pendant or other jewelry (I’ve got that covered) and that they utter the sacred syllable before beginning a project or a trip. Some even write Om at the opening of their correspondence or on test papers in school. Having that kind of constant reminder of the divine seems like something that may be missing from my life, so all I can say is . . . Om.

Day 21: The Path to God Through Love

Because I’ve been wallowing in negativity and self-pity for a while now, I thought I’d use my excessive emotions to try to force myself into a more positive place. That’s why today I want to talk about bhakti yoga, the way to God through love. It seems to be right up my alley at the moment since, as Huston Smith puts it, “To the bhakti, . . . feelings are more real than thoughts. . . .”

We’ve already talked about the other yogas, or paths to God: jnana (the way to God through knowledge), karma (the way to God through work), and raja (the way to God through meditation). Bhakti yoga is the most popular path, and one that has many similarities to other religious faiths, especially Christianity. It simply suggests that we should direct all the love in our hearts toward God, to adore God with everything we have.

Bhakti yoga tells us to love God and God alone. That’s not to say that we can’t love other people. We just do so in relation to our love for God. We love other people because they, like us and everything around us, are reflections of the one great divine. Okay, I can get on board with that.

The trick, however, is that we’re supposed to love God just because it’s God—not for any other ulterior motive—not because we’re hoping for some kind of benefit or redemption or even because we wish to be loved in return. Bhakti yoga ways we must love God for the sake of love alone. That part might be a little bit tough, at least for me. I’m not so good at doing anything without wanting something in return. Okay, okay. I know. I’m a selfish, horrible person. Let’s move on.

There are a few different ways to approach bhakti yoga. One is called japam, which just means repeating God’s name over and over. The idea behind this idea is that saying God’s name all the time makes us associate even mundane activities, such as cooking spaghetti and doing the laundry, more closely with our love for God. Hindus tell us to “Keep the name of the Lord spinning in the midst of all your activities.” That seems easy enough. But I’m pretty glad I work at home. I imagine I might get some weird looks if I were still working in a cubicle and kept muttering to myself all day.

Another feature of bhakti yoga is referred to as “ringing the changes on love.” It describes the fact that we love different people in our lives in different ways—in a supportive way with our friends, in a sexual way with our romantic partners, in a protective way with children. Ringing the changes on love encourages us to see all these forms of love as ways to strengthen our “real” love—for God. All types of love are simply expressions of a deeper love for God.

The other method of practicing bhakti yoga is to focus our attention on one particular form of God—our own chosen ideal, our “adopted form of the divine,” or ishta. Once we choose our own ideal form of the divine, we develop an attachment to that form that should last a lifetime.

Because Hinduism says that God comes in too many forms to be counted, there is no one “right” form that we all have to worship. We get to choose whichever form we like, whatever works best for us. Not to beat a dead horse here, but for me, you just can’t do better than good old Ganesha. Yeah. I think I could handle that. Just me and the elephant-headed god. Sounds good. I think I’m even feeling a little more cheerful.

Day 18: Ahimsa and Vegetarianism

I thought today I’d take a break from complaining about my life and complain about something else: the fact that, as a Hindu this month, I can’t eat meat.

Most people know that devout Hindus are generally vegetarians. The choice not to eat animals stems from the Hindu respect for life—all forms of life. This reverence for living things is called ahimsa. According to the research I’ve done, the idea of ahimsa first developed in Hinduism around 600 b.c.e., and with it, the notion that Hindus should not eat meat.

Hinduism is actually unusual among world religions because it promotes the worship of animals. Lots of Hindu deities are depicted riding on different animals. Ganesha, for example, my favorite elephant-headed god, rides around on a mouse. You gotta love that image!

Cows are considered particularly sacred, and so are peacocks. Hindus won’t slaughter these animals under any circumstances.

I’m not a big peacock eater myself, so I’m okay with that part. Cows, on the other hand, have long been a staple in my diet. So, I knew going into this project that, food-wise, this was going to be a tough month.

To try to spare myself unnecessary agony (and risk abandoning the project altogether), I decided to ease into the vegetarian thing. For the first two weeks of the month, I let myself continue to eat chicken, operating on the idea that I should be allowed to eat anything that they serve at my local Indian restaurant. Of course, that means I could also eat goat, but for some reason, they didn’t have any goat meat for sale at my grocery store. Strange.

For the second half of the month, however, I knew I would have to go completely vegetarian. It’s been four days now and I’m already going crazy. It seems like the only food choices I have left are salad, pasta, and various bread products. I can only eat so many vegetables. Plus, I never feel full when I eat them. I think I could eat a wheelbarrow full of broccoli and cucumbers and still be ravenous. And don’t tell me to eat tofu. I’d rather starve to death.

I’m a big fan of Indian food, but when you eliminate those delicious chicken dishes with spicy sauces, the meal just seems incomplete. And I have a question. Why does so much Indian food appear to be nothing more than a sauce? I know most Hindus don’t meat, but is there also some rule I don’t know about that says they can’t eat whole vegetables? I’m all for dipping a piece of naan in some tangy sauce, but my body is starting to crave things that need to be chewed.

I know I can make it until the end of the month without eating meat. I’ll be more irritable than usual (look out, world!), and I suspect I’ll be getting some quizzical looks if I skip the turkey at Thanksgiving dinner. I’ll probably also gain 15 pounds eating all these carbohydrates.

So if I start to sound even less coherent than usual, blame it on the lack of meat. Man, even peacocks are starting to look pretty tasty right about now.

Day 17: Depression and Hinduism

I haven’t written in a while because I’ve been feeling crappy. Not sick, just depressed and pissed off at the world. It happens to me a lot, and I knew it would creep in at some point and interfere with this project. I just thought I’d be able to get through at least 3 weeks before I’d be ready to crawl back into bed and give up.

But instead of giving up entirely, I had an idea. I asked myself, “How would a real Hindu deal with this depressed feeling?” I was surprised to find quite a few suggestions. Thank you, Internet.

Hinduism tells us that life is a painful burden, and to feel depressed because of it is a normal response. But Hinduism also offers some ways to overcome depression and get back on the path of seeking God and enlightenment. I don’t know yet whether any of the techniques will work for me, but at this point, I’m willing to try just about anything.

I stumbled across an article online about “Hinduism and Depression,” by Satguru Bodhinatha Veylanswami. It says that the most popular method of coping with depression in our modern age is the scientific, or simnif, approach. People take drugs to make themselves feel better. Hinduism doesn’t recommend it. But the scientific perspective can also focus on non-drug therapies—things like exercise, diet, and positive thinking. In my experience, antidepressant drugs and changes in diet and exercise don’t do diddly squat to help my mood, so maybe I need to try something else.

The article also says that talking to a friend or professional counselor can help alleviate depression. This psychological method is called mulif. That sounds great, but frankly, therapy is a smidge beyond my budget these days, and I don’t really know anybody who’d be willing to sit and listen to me whine about my life for free. So, I’m thinking the mulif approach is out.

The next method for easing depression is the dimfi, or inner place, perspective. You go to the temple and make offerings to the deities. Basically, you put your problems in the hands of God. Maybe that would help, but until I meet my contact from our local Hindu temple later this week, I don’t exactly feel comfortable showing up and begging for help. So we’ll have to see.

Another method to cure depression is through meditation—the shumif approach. As Satguru Bodhinatha Veylanswami admits, “This is the most advanced method, because the hardest time to meditate is when we’re upset, sad or bothered.” So you have to be really good at meditation to successfully meditate your way to a happier mood. I think we’ve already established that I suck at meditation, so let’s just move on. I’m guessing that any attempt I might make right now to make myself feel better will send me spiraling from “a little depressed” to downright suicidal.

So, I’m kind of at a loss. None of the methods seems likely to work for me. However, Satguru Bodhinatha Veylanswami’s article does make one other suggestion, using parts of all the techniques. Someone is supposed to provide counseling to the depressed person, trying to cheer the person up and reminding him or her that we are all divine beings. Then the counselor is supposed to suggest that the depressed person talk to Ganesha about the problem, asking for divine help to feel better. Then the depressed person is supposed to try meditation, along with fresh air and more exercise.

I don’t know. The only part of that suggestion that sounds remotely appealing is the part about talking to Ganesha—and that’s only because he’s so cute and jolly. If the suggested deity had been Shiva or Kali or any other, I’d be inclined to bag the entire concept. So maybe I’ll talk to Ganesha. I have nobody else to talk to anyway.

But I’m definitely not meditating today. Or exercising. And no fresh air for me. It’s my blog and I’ll cry if I want to.

Day 14: The Path to God Through Knowledge

I’ve said before that Hinduism says there are four paths to God: jnana yoga (the path through knowledge), bhakti yoga (the path through love), karma yoga (the path through work), and raja yoga (the path through psychophysical exercises).

Corresponding to each of these four paths are four different personality types. Some people prefer to think and reflect. Some are more emotional. Some like being active. Others like experiments. Hinduism’s four paths offer a way for all types of people to find God in the way they’re most comfortable.

Me—I’m pretty much a thinker. I learn best by reading and studying. I always hated those times in school where the teacher would make you play a game or work in groups—basically, I didn’t like anything that made the students active participants in the lesson. I’d rather have a book to read and a lecture to follow any day. Just leave me to take notes and don’t make me talk in class. (And yes, I do realize that this pretty much makes me a freak—everybody else seemed to love breaking up the monotony of lectures and doing something as a group. But in my opinion—yuck!)

Not that I’m not emotional. I’m sure my boyfriend would be more than happy to tell you that I can be disturbingly overemotional on occasion. But at the heart of it, I’m mostly a thinker. So, for me, the path of jnana yoga sounds just about right.

The first step in jnana yoga is (surprise, surprise) learning. You’re encouraged to read and listen to the great works of Hindu scripture to absorb the wisdom of the ages. Hooray! I get to read and take notes! I think I could stop at this step forever and feel almost completely fulfilled.

Next, you move on to thinking. By reflecting deeply on all the knowledge you’ve acquired, you’re eventually able to transform academic concepts, such as the atman (the God within your own soul), and really understand and feel what those ideas mean on a deeper level.

Jnana yoga teaches that all of us are, essentially, actors performing roles during our lifetimes. As Huston Smith puts it, “We have been cast for the moment in the greatest of all tragi-comedies. . . .”

The problem most of us have is that we think of the role we’re playing right now, in this particular lifetime, as what we actually are. Because we can’t remember our past lives and, no matter how hard most of us try, we find it difficult to envision other lifetimes in the future (at least on more than an intellectual level), it’s hard to separate our eternal selves from our current roles.

Making that essential distinction is the goal of jnana yoga. We learn to look deep within ourselves until we can peel away all the layers of personality and circumstances and are able to see the real actor, the eternal soul, that’s underneath it all.

Once that has been achieved (as if it’s so easy!), we can move on to the next step, where we’re able to see ourselves as eternal souls, as “Spirit,” all the time, even in our mundane daily lives, and not just during an occasional moment of powerful meditation.

One way that Hindus suggest we can manage this is to view ourselves in the third person, as if we are no more than witnesses to our own lives. To quote Huston Smith again, doing this “drives a wedge between one’s self-identification and one’s surface self, and at the same time forces this self-identification to a deeper level until at last . . . one becomes in full what one always was at heart.”

I really like this idea, although I’ve got to say that thinking about myself in the third person is encouraging me to do a somewhat annoying running commentary on my rather boring life:

“Oh, look! Tara’s oversleeping again. Wow, Tara really doesn’t need to be eating that ice cream! Tara should really get her big butt outside and go for a walk. A little exercise would definitely not hurt Tara! Poor, lazy Tara . . .”

Well, I may not be achieving enlightenment just yet, but at least I’m keeping myself entertained.

Day 13: Karma

Since we’ve been talking a lot about death and reincarnation, I thought now would be a good time to cover a related topic: karma.

The word karma literally means “work,” but it’s really a larger concept of cause and effect. Hinduism says that all actions have consequences, and those consequences can’t be avoided.

The way we generally understand the notion of karma, especially in the West, can be found in the old saying from the Bible: “As a man soweth, so shall he reap.” Whatever we do or think or say will come back to us—for good or for bad.

Science is big on cause and effect. We see something happen and we know there has to be an underlying reason—a cause—for why it happened in that way. Karma is the same principle, just on a moral level.

However happy or sad we are right now is the result of things we did or thought in the past—maybe even in past lives. Everything we do is recorded by the universe and the law of karma. As Huston Smith puts it, “Each thought and deed delivers an unseen chisel blow that sculpts one’s destiny.”

And, just as our past thoughts and actions caused our current situation, our current thoughts and actions are paving the way for what will happen in the future (something to bear in mind the next time you’re screaming at the moronic driver in front of you while you’re stuck in a traffic jam).

All you lottery fanatics, listen up: Karma says that there is no luck. Waiting around for your “big break” isn’t going to help you—not now and not in your next life. What you get depends on what you’ve done before. We get exactly what you deserve. Maybe that’s why something like 70 percent of lottery winners end up going bankrupt within a few years of hitting the big jackpot. Karma will eventually come back to bite you—if that’s what you deserve.

Although lots of people talk about karma, it seems to me that the notion supporting the whole principle is actually quite unpopular: the idea that we are completely responsible for ourselves and everything we do. Nobody likes to believe they’re a bad person. When bad things happen to us, we usually look around for someone or something to blame. It can’t be our fault. And hey—I’m not preaching. I’ve done my share of blaming, especially where my ex-husband is concerned (and I’ve got to say, I’m looking forward to karma coming to get him someday).

But karma says there’s nobody to blame for our present circumstances except ourselves. We created the present through our actions in the past, and we’re creating our future right now. And although karma dictates that all actions will cause certain effects at some point, we do have free will. We have all the freedom in the world to choose what we’re going to do right now, regardless of how crappy our behavior might have been in the past—maybe even in the very distant past, like multiple lifetimes ago.

So, whether you believe in reincarnation or not, I’m thinking that it might be smart to plan ahead—just in case. I don’t know about you, but I’d sure as hell like to have a better life the next time around.

Day 12: Reincarnation, Part 2

Okay, so I’m still stuck on the topic of reincarnation, but it’s really one of the central themes of Hinduism, so cut me a little slack.

Death is something we all do our best to avoid. Unless they’re suicidal, nobody wants to die. And even suicidal people really just want life to get better.

We accept that death is a part of living, but, in general, we don’t like it. We even tend to do whatever we can to keep ourselves from thinking about it, focusing instead on all the minutiae of our daily lives, as if not dwelling on death will somehow postpone or even eliminate the inevitable.

Hinduism says we’re going about this death thing all wrong.

Hindus refer to death as mahaprafthana, the “period of great departure.” In Hinduism, death is not something to be feared or avoided. Instead, a Hindu welcomes death as a new way to experience personal growth.

We die when our souls outgrow the bodies that house them. The Bhagavad Gita says:

Worn-out garments

Are shed by the body;

Worn-out bodies

Are shed by the dweller.

To Hindus, dying is no more terrifying than changing your clothes—something a lot of women do several times a day, especially when they have a date.

In fact, Hinduism tells us that death isn’t something that happens to us only at the end of life (or at the end of each of our lives). We’re dying every moment of every day we live. We just don’t realize it, because we don’t pay enough attention to notice that, as each moment passes, it’s gone forever. And we don’t notice the “death” of the moments of our lives because we’re still here. It’s the same, Hindus believe, with our own real death—our soul is still there. It’s just moving on.

Whew. That was kind of deep and serious. I’m kind of tempted to make an inappropriate fart joke just to lighten the mood, but I’ll restrain myself. For now.

Day 11: Reincarnation

Since reincarnation is probably the thing that most non-Hindus think about when they think of Hinduism, you’ve probably been wondering when I was going to get to it. Well, wait no longer. Here we go.

Hinduism says that human beings are stuck in a cycle called samsara. We’re born, we live, we die. Then we do it again. And again. And again. For how long? Until we get it right.

The only way to stop the cycle and avoid yet another rebirth is to work out all the issues and problems we’ve had in our previous lives and achieve true realization—making us ready to become one with the absolute divine.

Hinduism tells us that daily life and all the—well, the crap—we go through trying to make our way in the world is a painful burden. That’s why trying to get out of the cycle is the ultimate goal. But it’s not easy, because we’re accountable for every thought we have and every action we take in all our lives. And we can only break free from the cycle of birth and rebirth once we’re dealt with it all.

I’ve always been interested in the notion of reincarnation, maybe because I’m the kind of person who feels like “an old soul.” A therapist once asked me how old I felt inside. I answered, “62.” (I was 19 at the time.) She seemed alarmed, and I’ve learned since then that most people usually say they feel 16 or, maybe, at the “older” end of the spectrum, 25. Not me. Sometimes I feel like I’ve seen it all—and I’ve screwed up a lot.

Getting the chance to do it all again is, in some ways, pretty appealing. If we do go through reincarnation, then we get to try again and maybe avoid some of the mistakes we’ve made this time around. Me? I’d definitely do a lot of things differently—like, for starters, I wouldn’t have married a jerk who didn’t even know how to change a tire.

Then again, there would be disadvantages. I’d have to go through everything again, like school. I really wouldn’t want to do grammar school again, with all those dodgeball games and spelling tests and “art” made out of pasta products.

And reincarnation would also mean going through that awful awkward period again—that adolescent stage where your teeth are all different sizes and you have acne and you can’t even talk to a boy without blushing. For me, the awkward phase lasted from age 6 to around age 20. Hell—who am I kidding? I’m still in it.

So maybe reincarnation isn’t such a good thing. When I think about having to relive my teen years, death as nothingness doesn’t sound all that bad.

I realize as I'm writing this that I have a lot more thoughts on reincarnation, but rather than numb your mind with a zillion-word-long post, I'll pick this up again next time. See you then!

Day 10: The Big Three

I remember reading somewhere a long time ago that the number 3 is “a mystical, magical number.” Lots of things do come in threes. There’s Neapolitan ice cream: vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry; time: past, present, and future; and even sex: ménage à trois. Naturally, the power of 3 carries over into religion, too.

From the limited amount of research I’ve done so far on different world religions, it does seem like the number 3 is a recurring theme. You’ve got the Holy Trinity of Christianity (Father, Son, Holy Spirit) and the three aspects of the feminine divine in neo-paganism (Maiden, Mother, Crone). Hinduism has its own trinity of sorts, usually called the Hindu triad.

We all know that there are a lot of gods in the Hindu pantheon. As the old joke goes, when a non-Hindu asks a Hindu, “How many gods are there?”, the Hindu replies, “How many do you want?”

But three particular gods are generally considered supreme, the Big Three: Brahma, Vishnu, and Shiva.

Brahma is the Creator, who made the world and put it on a cycle. Every 2,160,000,000 years, the world will fall into ruins and Brahma will re-create it. I have no idea where the Hindus came up with this specific time frame—if anyone does know, I’d love to find out. All I know is that Hinduism says that each one of those 2,160,000,000 cycles constitutes a single day in the life of Brahma.

The second member of the triad is Vishnu, who is considered the Preserver. Vishnu himself has two separate aspects: Krishna, who is depicted as a god of love (both transcendent and sexual) as well as a trickster and sometimes even a warrior. Vishnu’s other alter ego, Rama, is the main character in the epic Ramayana. He represents the benefits of family and the virtuous life, along with the inadequacy of material possessions to bring fulfillment.

The third member of the Hindu triad is Shiva, who is both a force of destruction and a creative force. What I find most interesting about Shiva is the belief that, at times, he goes into a deep trance and is unable to perform the tasks required to support his human followers. When that happens, his female consort—who takes several names, including Kali, Parvati, and Durga—steps in to take his place, acting either as a goddess of life and creativity or as a terrifying destroyer.

Is it just me, or does that sound a little bit like what happens in homes all over America on Sunday afternoons in the fall and winter? The man, entranced by beer and football, becomes virtually useless, so the woman has to step in to do all the real work. Just kidding. Maybe.

Day 9: Ganesha

I’ve said before that part of what I like best about Hinduism is how you get to pick and choose your favorite deities. I also like the fact that the choices are so much fun. I mean, compare the stern God of Judaism and the suffering Jesus of Christianity with my favorite Hindu god, Ganesha. No offense to Jews or Catholics, but Ganesha is just a hell of a lot more fun.

Although there are tons of good pictures of Ganesha available online, I’m too poor (and too cheap) to pay for one, so I drew my own. I fully admit I’m not artist—that should have been obvious from my Diwali decorations—and I did this in about 5 minutes (with crayons), so I apologize for the quality, but it should be enough to give you a basic idea of what Ganesha looks like (see picture below).

First of all, he’s got the head of an elephant, which is kind of funny, especially to a former Catholic, who’s used to envisioning “God” in strictly human form—unless it’s the Holy Spirit, but that’s a whole other ball of wax, which we’ll get to sometime in December.

Second, Ganesha has got that elephant head stuck on a human body—but a great big roly-poly fat body. As someone who struggles with the up-and-down cycle of weight loss and (more often) weight gain, I can definitely appreciate the idea of an overweight deity.

I’ve read that Ganesha is the only known fat deity in any religion. I don’t know (at least not yet) whether that’s actually true, but I like the idea that it is. It makes him even more strange and unique. And before you bring up the Buddha to try to prove the theory wrong, remember that the Buddha isn’t a god, just an enlightened person (like I soon will be).

According to Hindu mythology, Ganesha ended up looking the way he does because of a very weird incident. The story goes like this: Ganesha is the son of the goddess Parvati and the god Shiva—well, sort of. Apparently, Parvati created the child Ganesha out of the dirt that came off her body while she was taking a bath. Then she put the newborn kid to work, guarding the door to her bathroom.

Shiva came home to see his wife and was understandably surprised to find a strange child blocking the door to her bathroom, so he got a little ticked off and cut off Ganesha’s head.

Parvati, also understandably, freaked out when she saw that her husband had decapitated her child. To calm her down, Shiva sent some of his men out to find a replacement head for Ganesha. They returned with an elephant head (and nobody seemed to think that was odd), so Shiva popped it on and brought Ganesha back to life.

That story, right there, is far more hilarious than anything I ever heard while growing up in the Catholic Church. But then again, the Catholic Church in general isn’t really about the entertainment factor. It’s still pretty much catering to the entertainment tastes of medieval society, which apparently thought that some fancy outfits, stained glass, and incense made for a very good time.

Anyway, Ganesha grew up to become the god of success and the destroyer of obstacles. That’s another reason I like him so much. I have plenty of obstacles—oh, like my inability to stick to an exercise routine—that I could use some help in destroying.

I almost forgot to mention one other bizarre thing about Ganesha: He’s got four arms attached to that big ole body. In one hand, he holds a goad—a stick he uses to prod human beings along the eternal path.

In another hand, he holds a noose, which he uses to catch any difficulties that his followers might face.

In the third hand is a part of his own tusk, which he uses as a pen. Legend says that he broke off the tusk himself in his fever of inspiration while he was writing the Mahabharata, one of the great Sanskrit epics. As a writer, I've got to love the image of someone being so caught up in literature that he has to use a part of his own body to keep on writing.

In the last hand, Ganesha holds a rosary, to remind us that we should always continue our quest for knowledge.

Finally, in his trunk, Ganesha carries some sweets. Although the snack is supposedly there to remind followers of the sweetness of the soul, I think it also kind of explains why Ganesha has a bit of a weight problem. But hey, how can you not love a deity who carries around a snack at all times? I think that’s something we should all be doing. The world would probably be a more cheerful place.

Day 8: The Path to God Through Work

I didn’t post yesterday, and I was feeling really horrible about it, like I was letting people down. Even when I’m a Hindu, I can’t seem to keep that old Catholic guilt from sneaking up and biting me in the ass.

The reason I didn’t post was because I was swamped with work—actual editing projects and some housework I needed to catch up on after being at a writers’ conference over the weekend. As I was beating myself up for missing a day posting, I realized that my reason for not posting—work—tied in nicely with what I wanted to write about next: the different paths that Hindus can follow to try to reach enlightenment.

Hinduism says there are four ways to find God. Each is referred to as a yoga, which actually just means a method of training (it’s not necessarily the kind of yoga most of us think about—that is, classes full of women in skimpy outfits stretching on mats and gossiping—although we will be talking about that kind of yoga down the line). The four paths are:

1. Jnana yoga, the path to God through knowledge
2. Bhakti yoga, the path to God through love
3. Raja yoga, the path to God through psychophysical exercise
4. Karma yoga, the path to God through work.

Today, because work has been consuming so much of my time over the last few days, I want to talk about karma yoga, the way to enlightenment through work.

Except for those lucky few people who inherit lots of money and get to spend their whole lives goofing off, all of us—in every society—have to work. And as much as we complain about it, we work for reasons besides just making money.

We work to give our lives structure and to keep ourselves busy. Without work, we’d probably get pissed off all the time and eventually go crazy (so think about that the next time the alarm clock goes off early on a Monday morning—work is actually keeping you sane).

Work is more than something we have to do to survive. According to Hinduism, it can provide us with a way to connect more closely with God. As religious scholar Huston Smith put it, “You don’t have to retire to a cloister to realize God. . . . Throw yourself into your work with everything you have; only do it wisely, in a way that will bring the highest rewards. . . .”

Hindus who follow the path of karma yoga perform their daily work not in the hope of any personal reward, but as a service to God. Doing all your work in dedication to God gets rid of the tendency to use your professional achievements to swell your ego—or, by contrast, to feel unfulfilled in life because you aren’t happy with your job.

I like that idea, especially since I’ve been pretty burned out by my work over the last couple of years. Most of my job entails editing dozens of boring manuscripts, most of them on the same handful of topics that repeat over and over (I mean, seriously, how many young adult biographies of George Washington does the world really need?).

But if I can look at what I do as a service to God rather than something to make me feel better about myself, then maybe I can hate my job a little less. It’s kind of liberating. Maybe it’s the kind of attitude we all need.

Now, I've got to get back to work.

Day 6: Diwali

Last night marked the first day of Diwali, the Hindu festival of lights. The five-day celebration symbolizes the victory of good over evil and knowledge over ignorance. It also celebrates the return of the Hindu Lord Rama after his defeat of the demon-king Ravana.

The name Diwali, also spelled Deepavali or Deepaawali, means “array of lamps.” It refers to the rows of lighted clay lamps that people use to decorate for the holiday.

As the most important and popular Hindu festival, Diwali is a time for fun and traditional activities with family and friends. People decorate their homes, share sweets and snacks, and, of course, light lots of lamps and candles to remind everyone of the inner light that exists within us all.

Since this was my first time celebrating Diwali, I didn’t have any clay oil lamps, but I still managed to do a pretty good job decorating. Okay, so maybe my efforts weren’t very professional. I didn’t have flowers or fancy paper, so I made chains out of construction paper to make my shrine look a little more festive than usual (see picture below). And no, before you bother asking, my 3-year-old niece did NOT make the decorations for me. She would have done a better job.

All right, I know. It’s lame. But I’m pretty proud of my attempt at creating my own “array of lamps.” I used tea lights to make an “Om” symbol, which looked really nice in the dark. Unfortunately, my camera wouldn’t let me turn off the flash, so the picture doesn’t really do my little set-up justice. Trust me—it looked pretty cool (see picture below).

I made some excellent deep-fried snacks, and we also had plenty of sweets (they were left over from Halloween last week, but hey, a sweet is a sweet, and I have to get rid of all those Skittles somehow).

Maybe my Diwali festival was a tad on the makeshift side, but I’m really just a makeshift Hindu, so it seemed appropriate. Besides, the message is still the same: Good triumphs over evil, and light triumphs over darkness. And that, I can celebrate. Shubh Diwali!

Day 5: Meditation

Hinduism says there are different paths that a person can take to reach enlightenment. The one I’m focusing on today is raja yoga. According to religious scholar Huston Smith, raja yoga is “Designed for people who are of scientific bent, [and] it is the way to God through psychophysical experiments.”

The major “experiment” is meditation. By eliminating outside distractions and quieting the mind, we turn away from the external, material world and go within ourselves to achieve self-control and complete self-knowledge.

Now, I’ve meditated before. In fact, I’ve tried all kinds of meditation—concentrating on an object or the light of a candle, repeating a word or phrase over and over, trying to just keep my mind blank, and even guided meditation where someone directs you through a visualized scenario. I’ve never been good at it.

When I do manage to sit still long enough to ignore noises and thoughts for more than few minutes, I usually just get sleepy. And then I get pissed off, because I shouldn’t be sleepy when I’m trying to do something, considering the fact that I’m rarely sleepy enough to actually sleep at bedtime.

But this is all part of the project, so I’ve been trying to meditate again. It’s not easy. Thoughts tend to bang around in my brain like those Ping-Pong balls in the lottery machines. Meditation experts call this problem “monkey mind”—and my monkeys were really going berserk this morning.

I began the meditation with the intention of focusing on absolutely nothing, just the darkness behind my closed eyes. That worked for about five seconds. Then the monkeys started chattering away:

Om. Om. Wait. I’m not supposed to be chanting, just keeping my mind blank. Okay. Try again. Man, my contacts are dry. Maybe I should open my eyes. No, don’t open your eyes. But maybe I should. NO! DON’T OPEN YOUR EYES! Okay. It’s fine. Wait. What’s that spot in my vision? Why am I seeing something, when it should just be black? What’s that spot? Looks like one of those little target things, like on a sniper rifle. What do they call those things? Damn. I can’t remember. Could there be a sniper here? No. That’s silly. Why would a sniper come after me? I’m nice. Sort of. Then why doesn’t anybody want to come to my Diwali party this weekend? Do I have everything I need for the Diwali party? Gotta make some snacks. Where are those recipes I printed out? Oh, crap. I forgot to run the dishwasher. And I think I forgot to put on my underwear. Am I wearing sweatpants and no underwear? Gross. Damn you, showering before the sun comes up. I keep forgetting essentials, like underwear. And deodorant. Do I stink? Sniff. No. I’m good. But it smells like curry in the house. Better open some windows in case people come over this weekend. But it’s raining outside. It’ll get all wet. Wet and smelling like curry? Probably not good. But if no one shows up, who cares? I should have sent out save-the-date notes. Who has the energy for that? Not me. I really need some energy. Wait, wait, I’m supposed to be thinking about something here. What was it? Oh, right. Nothing. Om.

Day 4: Living the Hindu Life

After doing the full-on Hindu daily lifestyle for a couple of days now, I’ve got to say that I have mixed feelings.

According to all my research, some of the things an “ideal” Hindu should do include the following:

1. Get up before the sun rises.
2. Perform morning prayers and bathe.
3. Pay your respects to the home deity.
4. Pray and/or meditate and read from sacred texts for about 15 minutes.
5. Make breakfast, offer some to the family deity, and then eat it.
6. Do your daily tasks honestly and with devotion.
7. Perform prayers in the evening at the home shrine (with the rest of the family—unfortunately, my dogs weren’t much help with this part).

On the up side, getting up early and having a strict routine to follow did help me get a lot more done than I usually do. I kind of like having discipline imposed on me (if only by myself and this whole crazy project). I couldn’t goof off, which is very easy to do when you work at home.

On the other hand, I could really live without the “rising before the sun” thing. I used to be a morning person, and I once thought the day was wasted if the sun was up before I was. But I also ate dinner at 4:00 and was fast asleep by 9:00, so I wasn’t a morning person, really—I was just prematurely living like an 89-year-old. Now, I have a life (kind of) and things to do after 5:00 p.m., so I don’t mind the idea of still being in bed at dawn so much anymore.

Besides just getting up on time, getting right into the shower, first thing (after prayers, of course), was rough. Partly because I work from home and rarely have anywhere to be in the morning, and partly because I’m just plain lazy, I usually need some time—oh, about 4 or 5 hours—to kind of ease into the day. Most mornings, I spend a long time catching up on all the riveting TV shows I taped the night before and then roll into the shower around 11:00—on a good day.

But getting showered right away really does help kick off the day. Maybe that’s why pretty much everybody else in the world does it. Huh. You learn something new every day.

The other tough part of my new Hindu morning routine is waiting to eat. Food is basically the main motivating factor in my life. Sometimes, it’s literally the only reason I drag myself out of bed at all. So, having to wait until after prayers, a shower, more prayers, and 15 minutes of scripture really made me appreciate the lousy Special K protein shake I had for breakfast.

And I really loved the fact that I did so much during the day that I just crashed into bed at night. It’s a delightful change of pace for me. Normally, I toss and turn for hours before I fall asleep—which may explain why I’m too dazed to do much besides watch TV and eat in the morning.

So, when you add up the good and bad parts of being Hindu, overall, it’s been a positive experience so far. I’m productive, I’m slightly more energetic, I’m clean, and—well, my pronunciation of Sanskrit is coming along quite nicely.