Letters to the Editor
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What strawman?
What strawman told you that humans are not much more than neurologically programmed DNA machines?
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Book recommendation...
I recently finished "Holy Cow - An Indian Adventure" by Australian hipster Sarah MacDonald - a book I absolutely loved.
In the book, MacDonald skeptically takes in a number of high-profile religious events from each of the major South Asian disciplines. Her chapter on traveling to and experiencing "Amma" in Kerala was probably the most interesting in the book.
Like me, MacDonald is an atheist. She doesn't end up finding religion in the book - thank god - but she does learn to appreciate the act of seeking itself.
If you're interested in India, I highly recommend "Holy Cow," along with Suketu Mehta's "Maximum City," Vikram Chandra's "Sacred Games," and Gregory David Roberts' "Shantaram," all of which explore spirituality in some capacity.
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@ TINKIE WINKIE
Don't you understand yourself? You do have a "god" of sorts. Your description of nature in your post indicates a spiritual sensibility. I wish that I were as a "spiritual" as you but I am just a half-assed agnostic. Do you not realize that you have about as much in common with the venomous haters here as a butterfly has with a snake?
I see nothing wrong with a woman who dispenses hugs that other people think are wonderful and who manages to transfer wealth using completely non-violent means to destitute people.
Frankly, I would line up for a hug. Everyone can use a really good hug -- they just don't realize it. If this woman hugs better than most people hug, more power to her.
Some people think that they can only love people if they think about it. They think love is a thought. I suspect if I hugged someone like this, it would not be a transformational experience. We would both be thinking too hard. I would be trying to overcome skepticism about the power of hugs. They would be trying to overcome their repugnance at hugging someone who wasn't 100% atheist. ;)
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It is no wonder that modern man
is boosted by things like this. After all, we evolved in small communities where we had much more intimate, regular contact with the others of our community, whose lives we depended upon and whom depended upon us. That all went away with agriculture and cities, but I am sure we all crave it, it is in our genes. That is, programmed DNA-wise.
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Follow your bliss?
I'm one of the 'arrogant atheists' referenced in this article (The moment I saw 'arrogant atheists,' I knew that there would be a lot of responses).
I don't have any problem at all with people getting hugs from this woman. I'm fairly certain that if I were to go and do it, it wouldn't be a transcendent experience because I'm just not wired to have such experiences, and you generally have to believe or want to believe in this sort of thing for it to work.
But these folks obviously do get something out of these hugs, and I certainly don't grudge them. They're just 'following their bliss,' and aren't harming anyone.
But there are these harmless hug-seekers, and then there are extremists of every stripe who are willing to create misery, kill others, and sometimes kill themselves, all in the name of pursuit of spiritual ecstasy or spiritual reward.
If we're talking about people as DNA machines, then I (as an arrogant atheist) will not hesitate to call religious experience a 'bug' in the programming, and these huggers and the suicide bombers are part of the same phenomenon.
Am I suggesting that Amma's followers are on the verge of going berserk? No. And of course it's impossible to make everyone into atheists, even if it were desirable. But I think that atheist and rationalist viewpoints need to be heard as a moderating influence.
People need to know that when they expect their spiritual beliefs to allow them to violate natural laws, it simply won't work. And Amma needs to know that when she drinks the bodily fluids of diseased persons, she's taking a chance.
I'm happy at the current prominence of atheist thinkers, because it counter-balances destructive irrationality. And if Richard Dawkins has the power to stop a middle-aged New York woman from enjoying a hug, then maybe we should start worshipping him
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My own Amma experience
I NEED A HUG. That was what I was thinking yesterday. I was a little blue leaving Mumbai, so I hatched a plan to come to Amritapuri here in Kerela and see the famous “hugging mother”. I had heard a lot about her and thought it wouldn’t be so bad to feel a little unconditional love.
The journey here was a bit of an adventure, mostly because although there are trains from Ernakulum (the town over from Cochin), the line or station is aparently new enough that there is no record of it on the internet. But hey, blue or not I am a go with the flow kinda guy, so I went to the station, and as luck would have it, there was a train leaving in 5 minutes.
Once off the train, I made my way by autorickshaw to the edge of the backwaters and crossed a bridge to enter the modern concrete tower collection that is the ashram. As I got checked in at the international desk, the guy told me I should probably hurry if I wanted to take darshan today, and that Amma (the hugging mother) would be traveling starting tomorrow to Sri Lanka. This was definitely a last minute travel plan. Only a week earlier they had told me that she was in attendance for the forseeable future.
Figuring it was now or never if I wanted a hug, I scurried up to my room to drop off my stuff and ran to the darshan hall where the mother hugs. I ended up waiting in a long line and meeting an australian named Chris. We played all cynical while we approached the head of the line to be hugged. Then, as I was only 2 people behind Amma, I started thinking about why I was there. I had been told by many people before that you are supposed to think of something you would like to happen while hugging the mother. I scoured my brain but was unable to come up with much, so I settled on “being able to feel unconditional love for all” or something vaguely like that.
My turn was up, and it was all a somewhat scary blur. I was pushed to my knees, then shoved into the mother’s breast, which smelled like a thousand sprays of sandalwood and spices, and I noticed to my horror just before my face was shoved in that my head was being pushed to a spot on her shirt over her right breast where countless others had been pressed earlier that day. And it had a kind of wierd stain all over it, sort of bluish and spotted. I kinda got the icks a little and this was mostly what I was thinking about while my head and nose were pressed firmly against this stain. I got up (or was pulled up, I’m not sure) and then was pushed out the of the way for the next needy soul. I suppose I should have felt reborn or something, but all I had was a vague sense that something had happened. I was neither elated nor despairing. It could have been that I was transformed and about to feel love pour out of me at every turn. Or it could have been that I was worried about catching some modern form of bubonic plague. Or maybe it was both. And maybe (just maybe) the two are somehow completely related, Yin and Yang eternal and inseparable in all things.