Self-Help is Bad for You! An upcoming book by Waylon Lewis.
I just posted a horribly fun image, “Namaste Bitches,” on our main Elephant Journal page.
Humor is transmutation. We can afford to laugh with, and at, ourselves, and our attachment to Our Way.
Somehow, some readers took it seriously. One said: I quit, I’m leaving! Only three out of thousands, but, hey: it’s a good reminder that we all—you and me and she and he—take ourselves and that which we love too seriously, sometimes, because we get attached to what we love.
But let’s remember that the Dharma (literal translation: truth) is said to be offensive to our ego—”Dharma is the ego’s ultimate insult,” as one wise man put it.
Dharma is never PC.
For those of us who forget to laugh at ourselves, this book, Self-Help is Bad for You, will be a fun yet raw reminder of what Dharma is—and what it isn’t.
Dharma is undefinable, non-conceptual. “The moment I speak the truth, it is no longer true,” as one Zen koan goes.
Dharma is not what we think it is. It is nothing solid.
So: we can afford to light-en up. We can afford to breathe deeply and smile at sadness. We can afford to expand our hearts to fear. We can afford to shock our own attachment to our own path.
Irreverence isn’t aggression. It’s offered with a grin and a wink. All great spiritual masters, we’ll notice, are happy to make fun of themselves. They laugh! Only the petty ego is attached to outward forms of respect.
We warriors? We hold up that which we love with inner respect–and laughter.
From a “spiritual materialism” pov, it’s far worse to say something with aggression than it is with humor. This book is offered with humor, with sadness, with appreciation, with caring…and with zero aggression. It’s intended to be a helpful, fun read for everyday speedy people.
PS: I also post this for you, dear Edane, as some context about what I’m doing, here. There is nothing aggressive about humor—beyond the shock that is jumping into a refreshing, cold pool of crystalline water. Jump with me! We’ll sun on the warm rocks, afterward.
Yours in the Vision of the Great Eastern Sun,