I’m usually reserved when it comes to discussing religion, but I’ll gladly dabble in it when I feel I’m in safe territory.
In grade 10 I took a world religions course where a bunch of Catholic suburban kids finally learned about what “else” is out there in terms of faith communities. I remember being immediately fascinated with Hinduism and Buddhism the most. They didn’t guilt-trip you with sins, but instead encouraged inner peace, self-improvement through patience and nobility. I have since found a nice “me” way to incorporate some aspects of each faith into my own life. One of the teachings I was particularly taken with is the Hindu concept of Maya. For those who may not be familiar with it, I will share my understanding of it with you.
Maya is the “stuff” of our lives that is purely material, and is said to distract us from our personal truths. It’s the extra stuff we pine over in our teen years and lust for in our adult years of keeping up with the Joneses. It is personal decorations like faboo earrings and fancy shoes. It is our luxuries, like couches and television. It is all that is extra to love, life, and survival essentials—basically the stuff that can be bought.
Hindus believe that to rid one’s self of Maya brings one closer to truth. Some call this state nirvana, some call it enlightenment but basically it means, “Get rid of your crap and live off what you’re mama gave you.” Not prostitution, oh no.
Of course, I write this at my computer wearing designer label clothing and undies, decorated with jewelry, sipping fine hibiscus tea and surrounded by Maya. I know that I have not achieved anything close to a Maya-free existence. But I can tell you that being limited in how much Maya I can afford has shown me that maybe there’s something to this belief.
I thought that living in the market would financially be the end of me. How could I walk by fabulous house wares and clothing stores without buying something? Before I moved out, I don’t think that I’d ever walked through a mall without buying something. Now I do that twice a day, live by my budget, and have grown accustomed to dressing myself off secondhand stores and the Old Navy sale rack. I am actually happier this way. I took my self out of the keeping up with the Joneses race, and so there is no way to lose it. I buy only what I can afford and what I need to live. I indulge by buying admission and drinks to bars and clubs with my friends—which even then involves excessive pre-drinking and then actually going out on the mega cheap.
I thought moving out would be a swift kick in my formerly suburban, protected butt, and that I would cry and max out my card and have huge obstacles to overcome. While it was certainly an adjustment in lifestyle, I have transitioned with relative ease into a Maya-minimized life. I am happier, I am healthier, and my relationships are great. I have no regrets, and if I were to make a list of things I’d like to change or improve in my life, none of them would involve Maya.
I will still eat cow and wear shoes when I engage in spiritual practice, so I can’t call myself a Hindu by any stretch. But if I may, I’d like to take this belief in Maya and tuck it into my own “spirituality” pouch, with Buddhist inner peace and Jewish chutzpah. I’ll let you know how I did when I’m old and gray and shriveled. For now, I’m happy. Namaste.