I suspect that some of you may be asking, "Yes, OK, but so what? What does all of this philosophizing and Buddha-ing and dharma-ing have to do with losing weight? How does the concept of joy or grief or any of this stuff fit into my life, this very life in which I am overweight, unhappy about it, and can't seem to do anything about it? Most of my life I have struggled in vain with the impulses that cause me to eat more than my body needs and all of this blah, blah, blah about the Buddha just doesn't seem very relevant."
Well. Here's the thing. Our society is founded on the basic principle of more. If some is good, more is better. If this made me feel good today, more of it tomorrow will make me feel even better. If I have ever gotten comfort from an object of my desire, I can derive that same comfort from similar objects in the future. There is something, somewhere that will fill this hole I feel in the center of my being. We have convincing evidence for these assertions, for we can recall a time when a meal made everything OK, or the purchase of an object made the pain go away, or watching a television program filled the emptiness.
The problem is this: these are all transient. There is no permanence to any of them. There is also the tricky fact of what we might call "moreness". The problem with using any external object, emotion, or person as a way to fill the spiritual void we feel is that, once we have this object of desire, its efficacy will quickly fade and leave us wanting another such object. Once we possess the new object, we will want another. Because the hole can never truly be filled with these things but somehow in our delusion it feels as if they are, we will constantly seek something new to take the place of the object that is no longer doing the trick. We will always want more.
Now, much of our seeking is dangerous (for instance if adrenaline is the drug we crave) or harmful (drugs and alcohol) or distasteful (pornography, for instance), or becomes infeasible as we age (partying all night). Some simply does not work after a while, like compulsive television viewing or computer use. And all of these have one thing in common: we can give them up and not die. But food, ah, food. We must use it or starve. It is not particularly expensive unless we have exotic tastes. So, while we tend to lose many of these addictions (to call them by their right name) as we age, food stays with us, and is often the last bastion of our rebellion. It may have been many years since we asked ourselves against what, exactly, we are rebelling, but, dammit, it's my life, and I'll eat what I want. Haven't I given up enough?
But as so often happens, we are not getting good answers because we are asking the wrong questions. When I eat--or do anything else--in an attempt to fill the void, I am not only doomed to failure but have placed myself that much further away from what could actually fill it. This is the irony, that in the seeking for the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, I neglect the fact that the gold mine is under my feet; I need go nowhere at all. And in the traveling away from my home (which is to say, my inner being) to seek that fool's gold, I leave the true gold behind. That's what all of this has to do with eating.
By the way, if we seek to lose weight to fill the void, believing that it will make us feel better about ourselves and therefore make us more spiritually fit, we are doing the same thing. Addiction to the idea of losing weight is as real as any other addiction. We need to give that up as surely as we would heroin, for it can be as dangerous. We must begin from a place of total and complete acceptance of ourselves as perfect human beings before we can change anything with a grateful heart, which is the only way change can take place.
Well. Here's the thing. Our society is founded on the basic principle of more. If some is good, more is better. If this made me feel good today, more of it tomorrow will make me feel even better. If I have ever gotten comfort from an object of my desire, I can derive that same comfort from similar objects in the future. There is something, somewhere that will fill this hole I feel in the center of my being. We have convincing evidence for these assertions, for we can recall a time when a meal made everything OK, or the purchase of an object made the pain go away, or watching a television program filled the emptiness.
The problem is this: these are all transient. There is no permanence to any of them. There is also the tricky fact of what we might call "moreness". The problem with using any external object, emotion, or person as a way to fill the spiritual void we feel is that, once we have this object of desire, its efficacy will quickly fade and leave us wanting another such object. Once we possess the new object, we will want another. Because the hole can never truly be filled with these things but somehow in our delusion it feels as if they are, we will constantly seek something new to take the place of the object that is no longer doing the trick. We will always want more.
Now, much of our seeking is dangerous (for instance if adrenaline is the drug we crave) or harmful (drugs and alcohol) or distasteful (pornography, for instance), or becomes infeasible as we age (partying all night). Some simply does not work after a while, like compulsive television viewing or computer use. And all of these have one thing in common: we can give them up and not die. But food, ah, food. We must use it or starve. It is not particularly expensive unless we have exotic tastes. So, while we tend to lose many of these addictions (to call them by their right name) as we age, food stays with us, and is often the last bastion of our rebellion. It may have been many years since we asked ourselves against what, exactly, we are rebelling, but, dammit, it's my life, and I'll eat what I want. Haven't I given up enough?
But as so often happens, we are not getting good answers because we are asking the wrong questions. When I eat--or do anything else--in an attempt to fill the void, I am not only doomed to failure but have placed myself that much further away from what could actually fill it. This is the irony, that in the seeking for the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, I neglect the fact that the gold mine is under my feet; I need go nowhere at all. And in the traveling away from my home (which is to say, my inner being) to seek that fool's gold, I leave the true gold behind. That's what all of this has to do with eating.
By the way, if we seek to lose weight to fill the void, believing that it will make us feel better about ourselves and therefore make us more spiritually fit, we are doing the same thing. Addiction to the idea of losing weight is as real as any other addiction. We need to give that up as surely as we would heroin, for it can be as dangerous. We must begin from a place of total and complete acceptance of ourselves as perfect human beings before we can change anything with a grateful heart, which is the only way change can take place.
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