Did Aphrodite Send Me a Poop Dream?

Lucid dreaming has long been an interest of mine but I haven't put a lot of effort into it. I recently started some practices from Robert Moss' book Dreamgates and my dreams have been longer and more intense.

The other night I was praying to Aphrodite before bed. She is the Greek goddess of Beauty in every sense of the word. Goodness, for instance, could be thought of as a kind of moral beauty. The Greeks worshipped her as a granter of civic harmony; harmony is beautiful and so is a robust, thriving, harmonious city. And yes she represents physical beauty too; whenever we think of someone or something as beautiful, it's because all the parts work together harmoniously. She is my most beloved goddess and the goddess who led me into worshipping the other gods of ancient Greece.

That night I dreamt that a woman with some kind of importance used the bathroom and didn't flush. I walked into the bathroom and saw it. Instead of flushing it, I fluffed it all up to make it as pretty as I could, so that if anyone else walked in she wouldn't be too embarrassed.

When I woke up I thought this might be some kind of message from Aphrodite or my unconscious because I had been praying to her about physical beauty. I have had a difficult, contradictory relationship with the idea of physical beauty, especially since I've gained a lot of weight in the last ten years and at 35 am starting to look a bit aged. As someone who's studied some Buddhism and Stoicism, I believe that the esteem of others isn't something we should crave, though it can be useful and obviously feels good. We can do a lot of things to encourage the esteem of others, including enhancing our physical beauty, but it's ultimately impossible to control it and so requiring others' praise and approval is a recipe for disappointment.

When I look at a mirror or photograph of myself there's always some amount of disgust. It was that way even when I was young and thin. I thought I was too skinny for a boy, too feminine or androgynous looking, had too pronounced cheekbones. Once I got fat I yearned for the "too skinny" days, and then eventually yearned just for the somewhat less fat days. And then I'm disgusted with myself for being so vain and obsessed with something shallow.

Two interpretations of my dream came immediately to mind.

1. Physical beauty is shallow. You can make a turd as beautiful as it can be but it's still a turd. I'm not a dualist who thinks matter is somehow fallen or evil, but all the same, physical beauty is nice but is hardly edifying.
2. Everything is beautiful if you look at it right.

In a Tibetan Buddhist retreat with Glenn Mullin he said that when Buddhist texts talk about purity it's always in a context. Nothing is fundamentally impure. So while a river can be polluted and a body can be poisoned, the poison isn't impure by nature. If you zoom in on a bar of gold and a piece of poop, once you get past the surface appearances you'll see a collection of molecules connected to each other by electromagnetic attraction. Further in, you'll see subatomic particles as probability waves or little bits of energy whirling through vast empty space. Gold and poop are made of the same stuff: protons, neutrons, and electrons. One looks and smells disgusting to us because playing with it can be bad for our health. But to a dung beetle it probably looks wonderful and useful.

I thought about how I cling to something shallow when I know I shouldn't. I think it's fine to prefer to be beautiful (who wouldn't?), but to invest so much feeling into it isn't healthy. No matter how beautiful someone is, that beauty will fade and decay, guaranteed. If it's become an essential part of your happiness, you're screwed. But it's more than just unwise; I've judged myself as being vain and narcissistic, a bad person for wanting to look better as though it will somehow place me above others.

It then occurred to me that I don't really do much about it, though. I don't work out more than maybe 7 times a year. I do the basics - brush my teeth, cut my hair (but only recently), wear presentable clothes, and so on - but don't really go to much effort. I haven't gotten my teeth whitened even though I keep saying I will. I don't diet. For those who know I'm vegan, let me clarify - I don't eat animal products because I don't want to hurt someone else, but when it comes to refraining from food that just isn't good for me, my willpower evaporates.

So I realized it's not really vanity, at least in the sense of putting myself above others. Veganism was hard at first and though it became easy and natural pretty quickly, it required willpower at first. If I had the willpower to start eating vegan but not to eat in a way that would make me fit, that's not vanity.

When I look at other people who aren't the cultural standard of beauty, I'm not disgusted by them. I don't think less of them or think they should change if they don't want to. So if I look in the mirror with disgust but don't think looking better will make me better, that's not really vanity. If I don't exercise, then clearly beauty isn't that much of a priority for me. It's not enough to motivate me to diet or exercise, but it is enough to motivate me to be disgusted with myself. So it's not really vanity, it's just self-hatred.

Humans are tribal creatures and I think we're somewhat hardwired to want to be in good standing with our group. Historically, if the group shunned someone it meant their death. It still means that. We all depend on each other for mutual survival. I wake up in the morning in a house made by other people, but on clothes made by other people, drive down a road made by other people, and work in a store selling things made by other people. What could I do, thrown out naked into the wilderness with only myself? It was even more the case in the distant past when there were more predators to make a meal of us, and before we had developed tools. It makes sense to have an inborn urge to make people like us no matter what. If people dislike you enough, you're done.

Beauty is one of the tools that make people like you. So vanity, at its heart, is fear. Fear of death, fear of loneliness, fear of loss of status in the group. Fear of not getting laid, of not getting a promotion, of losing the interest of your partner.

In that moment I was able to forgive myself for wishing so hard to be different. I can forgive myself for feeling afraid all the time. And as soon as I acknowledged that, I didn't feel so afraid. I've got friends, family, and a husband who love me, and I've got a steady job where I feel respected. And if I don't look at friends or strangers in disgust if they aren't exactly my type, then friends and strangers probably aren't looking at me with disgust either. Who talks to a friend and thinks the whole time about the friend's physical flaws?

Since then I've felt more comfortable. For so long I've felt like I need to apologize for my existence, for taking up people's time, for subjecting them to my presence. I haven't felt that way for the past few days.

That doesn't mean I won't eventually whiten my teeth when I get around to it, or try to eat less or one day even exercise. Because being complimented still feels better than being insulted, and because I still like getting laid and because even though it shouldn't matter at all, it can be useful in advancing a career. And because even though I've transformed somewhat, maybe even a lot, because of this dream, I'm not enlightened yet.

My friend Shauna Aura Knight has a good article about the sacred wound, which is when an old trauma is transformed and becomes an ally instead of an obstacle. I'm sharing my dream story in case it helps anyone to do the same.

And to say thanks to Aphrodite, as if a goddess needed my approval and praise.