Loving life as a Pantheist

In the third installment of his four-part series, Paul Harrison explains Pantheism's "vibrant affirm

One of Pantheism’s greatest attractions to me is its vibrant affirmation of our bodily life. Many of the world’s religions tend to view the main priority as the peace or eternal fate of the soul. Life in a physical body, on this physical Earth, is seen as merely a prelude and gateway to Nirvana or Paradise. A best the body is seen as a distraction, at worst as a temptation and a torment.

There are other paths that endorse very positive attitudes to living, such as Western Zen Buddhism or the Creation Spirituality of Matthew Fox. But I much prefer Pantheism, because it doesn’t encumber me with the terminology or metaphysics of traditional religions. I don’t have to worry about squaring my beliefs with Christology or the Tripitaka.

Pantheism is probably the only spirituality that fully embraces and celebrates our physicality. The body is not God’s temple - it is your own temple, in and through which you celebrate life, Nature and the Universe. This is a religion for anyone actively concerned about their mental and physical health and fitness. It encourages careful thought about diet and exercise – because the spirit is the body and nothing else, exercise becomes a spiritual activity. Since food is one of the most meaningful ways in which we interact with Nature and each other, eating becomes a way of communion.

Pantheism bears not a trace of the Christian guilt about sex, but instead offers a powerful endorsement of this most natural of acts and most transporting of Nature’s gifts. There is no condemnation of any particular gender or sex preference, but a joyful acceptance of any non-harmful options. There is no veto on mind-altering substances – it’s a personal choice.

Pantheism is a religion for all who live primarily in the present rather than in the past, the future, or the imaginary. It’s a religion of exuberance for surfers, rafters, sailors, divers, climbers, skiers, sky-divers – for anyone who gets their kicks from fitting their muscles and minds to the dynamics of waves, whitewater, snow, air, rock. It’s a religion for naturalists, one that encourages patient attention to the detail of nature: the shapes and colours of bark and rock, the cadence of birdsong or of ocean waves.

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The Women's March against Trump matters – but only if we keep fighting

We won’t win the battle for progressive ideas if we don’t battle in the first place.

Arron Banks, UKIP-funder, Brexit cheerleader and Gibraltar-based insurance salesman, took time out from Trump's inauguration to tweet me about my role in tomorrow's Women’s March Conservative values are in the ascendancy worldwide. Thankfully your values are finished. . . good”.

Just what about the idea of women and men marching for human rights causes such ill will? The sense it is somehow cheeky to say we will champion equality whoever is in office in America or around the world. After all, if progressives like me have lost the battle of ideas, what difference does it make whether we are marching, holding meetings or just moaning on the internet?

The only anti-democratic perspective is to argue that when someone has lost the argument they have to stop making one. When political parties lose elections they reflect, they listen, they learn but if they stand for something, they don’t disband. The same is true, now, for the broader context. We should not dismiss the necessity to learn, to listen, to reflect on the rise of Trump – or indeed reflect on the rise of the right in the UK  but reject the idea that we have to take a vow of silence if we want to win power again.

To march is not to ignore the challenges progressives face. It is to start to ask what are we prepared to do about it.

Historically, conservatives have had no such qualms about regrouping and remaining steadfast in the confidence they have something worth saying. In contrast, the left has always been good at absolving itself of the need to renew.

We spend our time seeking the perfect candidates, the perfect policy, the perfect campaign, as a precondition for action. It justifies doing nothing except sitting on the sidelines bemoaning the state of society.

We also seem to think that changing the world should be easier than reality suggests. The backlash we are now seeing against progressive policies was inevitable once we appeared to take these gains for granted and became arrogant and exclusive about the inevitability of our worldview. Our values demand the rebalancing of power, whether economic, social or cultural, and that means challenging those who currently have it. We may believe that a more equal world is one in which more will thrive, but that doesn’t mean those with entrenched privilege will give up their favoured status without a fight or that the public should express perpetual gratitude for our efforts via the ballot box either.  

Amongst the conferences, tweets and general rumblings there seem three schools of thought about what to do next. The first is Marxist  as in Groucho revisionism: to rise again we must water down our principles to accommodate where we believe the centre ground of politics to now be. Tone down our ideals in the hope that by such acquiescence we can eventually win back public support for our brand – if not our purpose. The very essence of a hollow victory.

The second is to stick to our guns and stick our heads in the sand, believing that eventually, when World War Three breaks out, the public will come grovelling back to us. To luxuriate in an unwillingness to see we are losing not just elected offices but the fight for our shared future.

But what if there really was a third way? It's not going to be easy, and it requires more than a hashtag or funny t-shirt. It’s about picking ourselves up, dusting ourselves down and starting to renew our call to arms in a way that makes sense for the modern world.

For the avoidance of doubt, if we march tomorrow and then go home satisfied we have made our point then we may as well not have marched at all. But if we march and continue to organise out of the networks we make, well, then that’s worth a Saturday in the cold. After all, we won’t win the battle of ideas, if we don’t battle.

We do have to change the way we work. We do have to have the courage not to live in our echo chambers alone. To go with respect and humility to debate and discuss the future of our communities and of our country.

And we have to come together to show there is a willingness not to ask a few brave souls to do that on their own. Not just at election times, but every day and in every corner of Britain, no matter how difficult it may feel.

Saturday is one part of that process of finding others willing not just to walk a mile with a placard, but to put in the hard yards to win the argument again for progressive values and vision. Maybe no one will show up. Maybe not many will keep going. But whilst there are folk with faith in each other, and in that alternative future, they’ll find a friend in me ready to work with them and will them on  and then Mr Banks really should be worried.