anxiety and dispassion

in my last entry, i talked briefly about notion of 'dispassion' in eastern christian spirituality. recently, i have been struggling with some fairly serious anxiety, ranging from a mild stress to a gripping, panic-like kind of worry. in trying to get a handle on what i've been feeling, the notion of dispassion has become very appealing to me.

the prospect of being free (note the enslavement connotations) from this anxiety has seemed like a heaven to me, especially when the anxiety has been very strong. i find myself longing for peace. and the idea of peace seems to me to be quite close to 'dispassion'. the anxiety sends my thoughts to and fro, racing from one idea to the next. this can be exhausting. and from the perspective of such exhaustion, the state of 'dispassion' does not sound like boredom or apathy, but sweet rest.

in the extreme case, my anxious thoughts have raced so quickly that they seem to be barely "thoughts" at all: there is just a rapid succession of impressions, images, half-formed notions or wishes. in thinking about such anxiety taken to its limit, i find myself wanting to say -if it is not too dramatic- that my self, my "I", is somehow lost. there is a kind of breakdown in my normal dispositions, perceptions, feelings. my usual way of encountering and responding to things gets dissipated or washed out. and at least in that sense, the "I" that is in the grip of serious anxiety seems not to be "me" at all -it is not the me of my best thoughts, my deepest enjoyments.

but of course, it is also the case that I am the one who is feeling anxious. and, more strangely, I seem also to be the ground, or cause of the anxiety. that is, the anxiety isn't really coming to me 'from the outside', though it can almost seem like that. rather, the anxiety arises up from within me, in a way that makes it possible to disown it as something merely 'alien' to me. i am, as augustine, says a problem for myself. there is something puzzling about this: i am miserable when i feel anxious, but isn't it myself who is making me anxious? why, then, am i making myself miserable? and how can i want not to be anxious, but also be the one who keeps me anxious?

in the context of such anxiety, dispassion can be seen as coming back to oneself, of finding oneself again. it is not that in dispassion one is solipsistic or withdrawn in such a way that one is cut off from the world. rather, the self is drawn into itself in such a way that allows precisely for it to attend to things outside itself, and to attend to them in a loving way. such attentive love is precluded by anxiety, which throws the mind this way and that.

having said all this, i am not sure how exactly to go about shaking off the anxiety. maybe the point is that i cannot do anything.

from the noon devotion in the book of common prayer:

"O God, you will keep in perfect peace those whose minds are fixed on you; for in returning and rest we shall be saved; in quietness and trust shall be our strength."

(isaiah 26:3; 30:15)

sin, dispassion and freedom

i am part of group that meets once a week for discussion and prayer. we are currently beginning a series of discussions based on the seven deadly sins, and this has given me occasion to read john cassian's 'on the eight vices.' (i have been looking at the version which appears in the english translation of the philokalia)

cassian was a roman who moved to egypt and became a disciple of evagrios pontikos. evagrios was a disciple of the cappadocian fathers, who later moved to the desert of egypt and became one of the second generation of 'desert fathers.' after spending time in with evagrios in egypt, cassian traveled to constantinople and then back west to rome and to gaul. he eventually founded two monasteries, one for men and one for women, and he is generally credited with bringing the spirituality of the eastern monastics to the west.

evagrios is usually thought to be the originator of what eventually became the seven deadly sins. evagrios actually had eight vices on his list, as did john cassian. a couple centuries after cassian, the western monk, theologian and pope gregory the great adapted cassian's list and gave us the seven deadly sins as we more or less have them now: pride, envy, anger, gluttony, greed, lust and despair/sloth (acedia)

it interesting to note that this list of sins or vices does not list actions (such as lying or murder). rather, what the list picks out are more or less desires (at times cassian focuses on instances of these desires, and at other times on the disposition to such desires). this focus on desire is understandable if we recognize that the original context for the seven deadly sins is the spiritual practice of the desert fathers. the early eastern monastics (and much of eastern christian spirituality since then) understands the spiritual life largely as a struggle to achieve a state of dispassion (απαθεια).

this focus on dispassion can be a bit hard to swallow; witness the meaning that now attaches to the english word 'apathy', a word derived from απαθεια. the monastic notion of dispassion has much in common with the stoic notion of aπaθεια, and most of us, i suspect, are much more attracted to the aristotelian picture of desire and emotion than the stoic picture: desires and emotions should be trained rather than extinguished, and, properly trained, emotions are not a hindrance to living well but rather a play a central role in living a good and praiseworthy life. moreover, isn't this negative view of the passions part of the (much referred to) 'christian hatred of the body'? and doesn't it reflect a kind of irresponsible and escapist 'otherworldliness'?

to be fair to the monastics, it should be stressed that dispassion actually has little in common with the english 'apathy' -it does not mean a lack of concern or indifference. it is consistent with (indeed, requires) compassion for others and suffering on their behalf. it is also involves intense love for god:
'when, however, through great attentiveness the soul begins to be purified, it also begins to experience the fear of god as a life-giving medicine which, through the reproaches it arouses in the conscience, burns the soul in the fires of dispassion. after this the soul is gradually cleansed until it is completely purified; its love increases as its fear diminishes, until it attains perfect love, in which there is no fear, but only the complete dispassion which is energized by the glory of god.' -diadochos of photiki

that said, it remains that the ideal of dispassion conflicts with many of our common-sense intuitions about what desire and emotion are appropriate. consider the fact that anger is listed as a vice. for aristotle, anger itself is not a vice; rather, one must feel anger at the right times and in the right way, etc. and most of us are inclined to think that there are occasions when one should feel angry at others, and that a lack of anger is a sign of insufficient concern for justice or low self-esteem. in contrast, cassian insists: 'in saying 'all', he (Paul) leaves no excuse for regarding any anger as necessary or reasonable...similarly, anger, whether reasonable or unreasonable, obstructs our spiritual vision. our incensive power can be used in a way that is according to nature only when turned against our own impassioned or self-indulgent thoughts.' this is a radical view about anger, and one that virtually not of us support, not to mention succeed in living out.

several notions are central to the monastic understanding of passion and dispassion. one of the most important is that of illness. the passions are a disease in the soul, the spiritual life is a program of treatment in which the soul is brought to a state of health in dispassion, and god is the great physician who brings about this healing.

another key idea is that of being a slave to one's passions. this, i think, gets at the heart of the monastic ideal of dispassion: what is ultimately at issue is freedom. the passions seize control of a soul. they take over the soul, tossing it to and fro. in this way, a person's freedom is diminished, if not destroyed. (this notion of enslavement is closely connected to the metaphor of illness. with a physical illness, one is passive and out of control. i do not choose to have the flu, and when i get the flu i lose a measure of control over my body and what i am able to do. similarly, the passions seize the soul and control it.)

once we see this, we can recognize that the monastic ideal of dispassion is not as alien to our values as it might have first seemed. nor is it an unmotivated, or driven simply by a 'hatred of the body' or 'denial of this life'. at the risk of gross anachronism, we might even say that the monastic ideal of dispassion is driven by the value of agency. of course, the monastic notion of freedom is importantly different from most contemporary notions of freedom, either common-sense or philosophical. but for that very reason, it may turn out that we can find in the monastic view a notion of freedom that offers a critique or corrective of our own views.

nevertheless, it remains that there is something 'otherworldly' about monastic spirituality, and there is also a deep suspicion of the body. how exactly to construe these elements is not easy, and i think they are frequently mischaracterized. still, consider the following passage from cassian's discussion of the demon of unchastity or lust: 'indeed, he who has trampled down the pleasures and provocations of the flesh is in a certain sense outside the body. thus, no one can soar to this high and heavenly prize of holiness on his own wings and learn to imitate the angels, unless the grace of god leads him upwards from this earthly mire.'

i, for one, am not sure what say about the ideal of being 'outside the body', or seeing this life as bogged down in an 'earthly mire.' partly i think that something has gone seriously wrong with monastic spirituality at this point, but i am also wary of the current fashion of easily dismissing this way of thinking.