This week the Pope said that nuns should be “spiritual
mothers not spinsters”. He called for them to have “fertile chastity” and to be
like Mary – who, of course, was a virgin according to the scriptures.
Well this got me thinking. What exactly does it mean to
be spiritual? Am I spiritual? What is it about other people that make them
appear to be spiritual? What can I do to be more spiritual, if that is something
to which I aspire?
Someone once asked me, “At what time in your life do you
think you were happiest?” My response was “now” or rather the “now” when I knew
that I was cared for, and that for every ounce of lovingkindness I afforded to
those I loved, it was returned in equal
measure. This, in turn, gave me a spiritual warmth that made me feel that
everything would be ok in my world and in the world of others – known or
unknown to me. Even with the inevitable hiccups of life, I, and those I cared
about most would be more than ok.
So what was special about that time in my life? What
ingredients gave me the feeling of serenity, of distinct and memorable moments
of Satori, of feeling as though what I was doing for myself and others was as
it should be?
I was enjoying a beautiful, healthy relationship of
respect, consideration, affection, intimacy, trust, honesty and thoughtfulness –
from both sides. I was working on something that I felt completely fulfilled
by. I was doing something that I felt would benefit others, not just for my own
self-satisfaction and absolutely nothing to do with financial gain. I was
spending time listening to incredible music, going for walks in diverse and
sometimes unexpected environments. I was being creative and appreciating the
creativity of others. I was reading and writing extensively on a range of
different, and sometimes conflicting, subjects. I had moments of such intense
clarity that I didn’t need anything else in life other than that all important
sense of who I am. I knew that I would be more than contented if I never ate
the finest food or had the finest clothes ever again because I had become so
attuned to my own self, who I was and what that meant to others. I was living day
in day out in the now and loving nearly every minute.
It wasn’t all plain sailing. There were huge issues in my
life at the time that needed to be dealt with, and still do. There were hurdles
to overcome. There were barriers in the way of an even greater sense of
wellbeing, but to all intents, I was content.
What I also had was a very healthy sex life. It was, and
still is, an incredibly important aspect of who I am. I indulged in many a
sexual act that I hadn’t even conceived of. They were naughty things that other
people did – not my cup of tea at all. But as I learned more about myself, who
I was and released some pent-up and much ignored inhibitions, I realised that
these sexual acts were not “acts” at all. They were an integral part of who I
am, and it was this acknowledgement and practice of my sexuality that added to
my general sense of spirituality and wellbeing.
I was, and am, a far better person when I am sexually
active because there’s something about the spirituality of sex and intimacy
with someone you adore and who adores you in return that completes me. It doesn’t
kill – it completes!
Acknowledging this fact I now ponder about whether I can
be spiritual without the completeness that sexuality brings to me, and these
interesting comments from the Jesuit Pope made me wonder once more. Can he or
the chaste maids that he addressed ever be truly spiritual if they’ve never
experienced the completeness of that moment of mutual and simultaneous orgasms
that take you beyond this world into an unknown place where only you reside?
Can the Dalai Lama, the Buddhists monks of the East, the catholic priests who
are essentially good people, ever truly reach their moment of Satori and gain a
true understanding of enlightenment if they’ve never known what it is to be
physically, sexually, spiritually close to another human being?
Their answer would lie in what I said about fine clothes
and food. They’ve gone beyond those needs, and they’ve also gone beyond the
desire for sex. They have transcended those earthy needs and become
non-attached, without need other than the basic needs for sustaining their
existence – food, water, shelter. They are dependent on nobody. That is where
their spirituality is.
Well, good for them. I’m glad they’re contented. I’m glad
that if I asked them the question “At what time in your life do you think you
were happiest?” they’d be able to answer “now” instinctively because their “now”
is free from all the excess baggage that so many of us carry about in our
complicated lives. I’m glad for them that there’s no aspect of co-dependency
that seems to inflict the rest of us.
So for me, should I give up my sexuality and see it as an
unnatural and dangerous desire in order that I reach this level of serenity
that is expected of these people of faith, or should I accept that sexuality is
an integral part of who I am and acknowledge, without craving it, that
sexuality is a significant part of my personal spirituality?
It all sounds perfectly feasible. I opt for the latter
and accept that I’m a sexual being who needs intimacy in my life – and this
gives me the spiritual brilliance that I adore. Only there’s a problem. If we
are to be non-attached, if we are to be at one with ourselves without the need
for others, then clearly sexuality can’t be a vital element of our spirituality
because, without being too blunt about it, you need another person for sex. I
know you can masturbate for the physical gratification of orgasm but it really
isn’t the same, however much we convince ourselves that “an orgasm a day keeps insanity
away”.
It just doesn’t add up. You can’t have sex without a
sexual partner. You can’t get a sense of spiritual wellbeing just by sex
either. There has to be a significant connection between you and another human
being – well, that’s the way it is for me anyhow. And this in turn, brings
another thought to mind. Can you really be spiritually well without being
slightly dependent on other people being an integral part of your life?
We all need our moments of being alone. We all need the
serenity of the oneness with ourselves. We all need to follow our own paths and
not be persuaded to veer off in another direction just to placate the whims,
needs or hopes of another human being but we also need those other people too.
The priests, the ones that have foregone so much of life to achieve this serene
sense of spirituality are the lucky ones in many respects. They aren’t reliant
on sexuality for the spiritual wellness, and many of the great texts from both
east and west say that this is truly the essence of spirituality. So if that is
the case, then is my sexuality anything to do with my spirituality or something
completely different?
Yet, I return to that question. When was I happiest? The
answer keeps returning to the same time, the same response. I was happiest, I
was well, I was more spiritually aware, I was more ME when I was sexually
fulfilled – accepting my sexuality, living, breathing, loving it. And the
spirit of my sexuality was dependent upon another person.
As for now, if my personal sexuality makes me a more
spiritual, person, if that sexuality is an integral part of me and my wellbeing,
then how do I maintain a different sort of spirituality without sex? How do I
function with one part of my soul locked? How can I appear to be, to myself and
others, fully functioning without sex? How can I possibly be desirable to
others, sexually and platonically, when my sexuality is missing? And if this is
the case for me, isn’t it the same for others too? If someone has lost their
sexuality, by choice or by being forced into the situation through bereavement
or separation, then how are they to function without this basic need? Can
anyone, even the lovely nuns that listened to Pope Francis’s address this week,
really be the spiritual wonders that the world expects if they haven’t
experienced the utter and overwhelming joy of sexual intimacy? And is it really
any wonder that others appear more spiritually exciting than those of us forced
to abstain when they have their sexuality in place?
I’m not the only person who sees this correlation between
sex and spirituality. I’m not the only person who tackles with the dichotomy of
what we get spiritually out of giving and receiving through sexual intimacy
with others compared with the alleged spirituality of abstinence. I endeavour
every day to change my opinion about sex and to embrace the emptiness of
chastity in the vain hope that I will finally realise that the truest
enlightenment can only come from within and can’t ever be dependent on another
human being.
But quite frankly, I’m yet to be convinced because sex is
so damn important, and of course for many, such as Abraham Maslow, is seen as a
basic human need. Well if that’s the case, no wonder those of us who desire sex
don’t function completely without it. Is there really such a thing as fertile
chastity? Can we really be self-actualised, fully functional people, able to accomplish
transcendence all on our own – all without sexuality? Can we really BE, without
other people? I know the answer is complicated and contradictory.
As for me, I live in perpetual hope. And in itself, that
gives me some sense of spiritual wellbeing.
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