Monk See, Monk Do

Demystifying 'detachment' and why spiritual culture is just another form of materialism

“Hi Shiv - What does detachment mean to you? I’m curious because you are living the life of a family man which seems to be unusual for spiritual teachers. (Most of them seem to be single guys or gals for some weird reason?!!) What does detachment look like for a householder? How do you fulfill your obligations to your family, work and society if you are not attached to them? Thank you for all your wonderful articles!”

.

***

.

Firstly, how dare you call me a “spiritual teacher”?!

Jokes aside, the problem is the whole spiritual industry is so flooded with hyperbole, platitudes, misunderstandings and mumbo-jumbo it’s no wonder there are only a scant few remaining who can still tell their heads from their own you-know-whats.

You’ve asked me a question that I’ve been asked several times before. In fact, many seekers I’ve encountered see it as a sort of conundrum. There is this pervasive idea that the spiritual quest is incompatible with the material life. That in order to advance spiritually (whatever that means) one has to gradually renounce one’s attachments (even if symbolically) to the material realities of one’s life - which not only include objects and possessions, but also the relationships that tether a person to their human ego.

This culture of renunciation has been universal across all religions. It doesn’t matter if you are a Catholic monk or a Buddhist monk or a Hindu monk - all monks are renunciates. They renounce not only material possessions, but also close and intimate relationships and, in many cases, pleasures of the flesh.

The idea is that if one has renounced the world, then one can observe it with detachment. And what is more, because one is no longer affiliated to the world and, by logical extension triggered by it, one can observe one’s own self with clarity. This is the general premise and, in my opinion, a deeply flawed one. The kind of detachment that arises from this state of affairs is a farce. Because it is artificially generated through the strict mitigation of environmental factors.

Imagine a driver who never drives his car except on Sundays when traffic is especially light. He avoids highways at all costs. He only follows certain neighborhood routes that he is familiar with. He sticks to roads with single lanes and low speed limits. And he restricts his time spent driving on the road to no more than an hour a week.

In the eyes of the insurance agency, this driver would be considered an “excellent driver”. The insurance agency’s metrics for evaluating drivers relates to accident histories and insurance payouts. As far as the agency is concerned, this driver does not have any accidents or tickets, and they have made no payouts to him. So, as far as they are concerned, he is an excellent driver.

But is that true? What constitutes an “excellent driver”? Is it not superior driving skill, acute road awareness, fast response times, quick reflexes, adaptability to weather conditions, the ability to anticipate other drivers, knowledge of traffic laws and regulations, and such? And do all of these capacities necessarily translate to a flawless driving record? More importantly, does a flawless driving record indicate that a driver possesses all of the aforementioned attributes?

Of course not.

The material world - its objects, possessions, relationships and other endeavors are the roadmap of the human experience. Keeping your vehicle safely parked in a garage and taking it for a spin once a week may give you a flawless driving record, but it does not make you a good driver. Similarly, renouncing the material world and refraining from developing intimate relationships may produce a seemingly ‘suffering free life’ but it does not mean you are “spiritually advanced”.

For, suffering is nothing more than the accident history of this human body-mind. And just like a flawless accident history does not imply one has developed superior driving skills, an absence of suffering in one’s life does not imply one has developed superior life skills.

This is what I find so myopic about the spiritual industry’s views on the matter. It is like the insurance agency. It is only concerned with outcomes.

If it walks like a duck and talks like a duck it must be a duck. If it acts like an enlightened person and talks like an enlightened person, it must be an enlightened person. Is it any surprise that so many spiritual teachers adopt the same passive postures, the same doe-eyed gazes, the same measured tones, the same saccharin smiles while spouting the same regurgitated platitudes everyone else is?

I call this low-resolution reasoning. And the spiritual industry is inundated with this sort of rhetoric.

You’ve asked me how detachment shows up in my own life…

Firstly, I make no distinction between my spiritual life and my material life. That sort of distinction is utterly absurd to me. The spirit is the essence of the material. It’s the equivalent of talking about roses being separate from their ‘redness’. Or an apple being separate from its ‘sweetness’.

Essence cannot be experienced without a form to convey it. And the form cannot manifest without its essence. My material life is spiritual. And my spiritual life is material.

Secondly, I do not view detachment as the “absence of attachments”. I have many attachments to this world - my wife and kids, my parents and siblings, my friends and community, my dog and cat, my house and car, my work and art, my mind and body, my opinions and ideas…I have an entire web of attachments that tether me to other human beings and their stories. And I invest myself in these attachments with all the passion, emotion and intimacy I can muster. I don’t half-ass my relationships. My friends and loved ones know that I am there for them in every way, come rain or shine, and at all hours of the day or night.

I do not subdue my emotion, I do not avoid conflict, I do not turn a blind eye in order to ‘keep the peace’, I do not skim the surface of my relationships. I go as deep and as dark as is necessary so that all parties are pushed to engage in the most authentic, genuine and open-hearted manner they are capable of at that moment. Sometimes this can cause conflict. Sometimes this can feel raw and painful. Sometimes this can lead to suffering in the short-term. Sometimes, there are tears and anger and hurt feelings and resentments. Yet invariably, every relationship emerges stronger, more truthful and more honest than before.

None of this sounds like “detachment” in the way the spiritual industry has sold it to you. In fact, it sounds like the opposite. It doesn’t sound peaceful and equanimous. It sounds like a web of emotional entanglement.

And yet, detachment is the reality of all my relationships - to objects, to events, to family, to other people, to the world, and to myself.

Because detachment to me does not mean “I don’t care”.

It means “I care so much that I don’t mind what happens.”

In other words, I am so deeply immersed and in love with what is happening, I do not care about what the final outcome of any of it will be.

I am like the driver who loves the road so much that he drives knowing that accidents are inevitable. That one day he may not return home alive. All he cares about is his love for the road, his love for learning how to maneuver his vehicle with greater skill - not his accident history or driving record.

I am detached from outcomes - from the expectations of what my life should look like, how spirit should be experienced, how my ego should manifest, how my perception should evolve, how the world should appear to me.

But I am not detached from LIFE; the living of each moment to its fullest.

So, it is ironic that the version of “detachment” spiritual culture promotes is just another form of egotism. Because it is solely concerned with outcomes. The renunciate’s life is carefully structured to produce specifically those outcomes they have deemed desirable. How is that any different than how a businessman approaches building wealth or a politician approaches the elections?

And so, what the culture promotes as ‘spirituality’ is really just another form of materialism. For materialism is not a state of affairs but a state of mind. When one orchestrates a life devoid of possessions, relationships, struggles and challenges one has essentially objectified existence. One is using it as a means to an end. And that end is the outcomes one is seeking.

For the tycoon that outcome may be wealth, for the celebrity it may be fame, for the renunciate it may be “spiritual progress” evidenced by minimal suffering, absence of emotional drama and lack of material pursuits. Different ways of objectifying the same reality.

That within you that seeks to manipulate life is what fears it. Since you cannot let it be what it is, you attempt to make it what you think it should be.

Is that not the “spiritual path” - of practice, pursuit and purification - that has been prescribed for you by this culture?

Or else, what would there be left to do than simple just be what you are and let life happen as it does?

Why build either a mansion or a monastery? Why hoard wealth or shun it completely? Why try to win the game or quit playing entirely?

Spiritual practices that promote detachment are steeped in a fundamental fear of life and a mistrust of the mind.

For if there were nothing to fear and nothing to mistrust what would there be to attain?

You have the world already - what is there to gain or lose?

Life animates itself through you causelessly - why fear losing it?

Awareness and mind arise spontaneously - what is there to mistrust?

This sense of self ebbs and flows endlessly within your consciousness - what is there to improve upon?

A LIFE becomes a LI_E the more you give an F for the outcomes.

That is not detachment. That is egotism.

You are what you are. Life is what it is. You do not need to put any effort into being what you are. You do not need to put any effort into letting life be what it is.

Instead, in the absence of all such effort to manipulate outcomes, you become free to fully immerse yourself into life - just as it is happening.

And in immersing yourself in this way, to become one with it.

That, in my experience, is what detachment means.