When asked about the role of sex in western society, Krishnamurti said (paraphrasing): why sex? Why is this topic asked about the most? Why do we have such inner struggle concerning it? Is it because (in his typical style of answering questions by asking new ones) our lives are so stagnant and imprisoned that we only feel free during sex, and so we sense there is a contradiction there?
A very intriguing question. In our world today, sex and drugs are a huge part of the culture. Drug overdoses from the opioid epidemic are at record highs, the porn industry has ballooned into a $100 billion business worldwide and growing more each year. Weed, booze, Tinder, Pornhub – the cornerstones of Americana. Millions and millions of people grinding out their soulless workweek just hoping to get a slice of freedom at the end of it.
We have been turned into such monotonous zombies forced into a life of debt and wage slavery that our only escape is the total and guaranteed obliteration of ourselves via sex and drugs. In this we find freedom, relaxation, loss of fear, the ability to express and simply be ourselves – something we cannot do in the corporate doldrums.
For a little while at least, until the transitory pleasures pass and we are back where we started. What alternative is there? Well, we must turn away from the whole ugly business and, as Thoreau says:
“Start now on that farthest western way, which does not pause at the Mississippi or the Pacific, nor conduct toward a wornout China or Japan, but leads on direct, a tangent to this sphere, summer and winter, day and night, sun down, moon down, and at last earth down too.”
Come to the end of ourselves really, as this is the root of the fear and suffering which keeps us bound and imprisoned. Interestingly, the brain chemistry that is exhibited during orgasm, sneezing, sleep, and at death are remarkably similar – the common trait here being surrender to what is out of our control. And at that death we may find, as Pip did in Moby Dick, that:
“The sea had jeeringly kept his finite body up, but drowned the infinite of his soul. Not drowned entirely, though. Rather carried down alive to wondrous depths, where strange shapes of the unwarped primal world glided to and fro before his passive eyes; and the miser-merman, Wisdom, revealed his hoarded heaps; and among the joyous, heartless, ever-juvenile eternities, Pip saw the multitudinous, God-omnipresent, coral insects, that out of the firmament of waters heaved the colossal orbs. He saw God’s foot upon the treadle of the loom, and spoke it; and therefore his shipmates called him mad. So man’s insanity is heaven’s sense; and wandering from all mortal reason, man comes at last to that celestial thought, which, to reason, is absurd and frantic; and weal or woe, feels then uncompromised, indifferent as his God.”
Credit to Mr. Mckenna:
“Depression is fear with hope removed. It arises as we discover that something we thought could be ours will never be ours. Unhappiness is when we worry about not having something, depression is when we realize we’ll never have it, and freedom is when we realize that nothing is ours and nothing can be ours, so that, in effect, nothing isn’t ours.”