Nature, Man and Woman

We treat the body like a foreign country we are trying to colonize. We issue commands for it to be thinner, stronger, or calmer, and then grow frustrated when the native population—our own cells and instincts—rebels against our rule. We see a disconnect between our conscious will and the world of flesh, breath, and sensation. This perceived separation is the hidden source of our anxiety, our frantic pursuit of control, and our feeling of alienation from the very ground beneath our feet. We live as if we are ghosts piloting a machine, forever trying to fine-tune its performance, never realizing that the pilot and the machine were never separate entities to begin with.

This profound sense of division is precisely what Alan Watts, a former Anglican priest turned pioneering interpreter of Eastern philosophy, sought to dissolve. Writing in the mid-twentieth century, as Western society accelerated its project of technological dominance over nature, Watts saw this split as a spiritual catastrophe. He had spent years immersed in the intellectual frameworks of Christianity before finding that Zen and Taoism offered a more integrated perspective. "Nature, Man and Woman" was his attempt to build a bridge back to a more unified reality, using the seemingly separate domains of ecology, sexuality, and spirituality to reveal their shared, indivisible root.

Module 1: The Illusion of the Separate Self

We start with the core problem Watts identifies. Western culture trains us to feel like an isolated "I." A conscious self, a pilot, looking out at an external world through the windows of our senses. This creates a fundamental sense of alienation.

Watts argues this is a grand illusion. The ego is a useful fiction, a temporary role, not a fundamental reality. Think of it like a chronic mental cramp. It’s the sensation of a "thinker" behind your thoughts, a "feeler" separate from your feelings. The philosopher David Hume famously looked inside himself for this permanent "self." He found only a stream of perceptions: heat, cold, love, anger. There was no single entity in charge. The ego, Watts suggests, is just a habit of thought, a social role we are conditioned to play.

This illusion has a huge cost. It leads us to believe we must constantly control ourselves and the world. The belief in conscious control is an arrogant and dangerous fallacy. We see nature as a chaotic system to be conquered. We see our own bodies and emotions as unruly subjects to be disciplined. This "progressive" mindset is always focused on the future. We work for the leisure it will buy. We rush through experiences to get to the "good part." The result is a life of constant dissatisfaction. We are always chasing a future that never quite delivers, because we've disowned the present moment where life actually happens.

So what's the alternative? It isn't to descend into chaos. Instead, true strength comes from softness, yielding, and spontaneous awareness. Watts points to the Taoist concept of tzu-jan, which means "of itself so," or spontaneity. This is about acting with the effortless grace of a master craftsman, a dancer, or an athlete. They operate from a place of "feel," an intuitive, holistic knowledge that bypasses the straining ego. This is a wider, more inclusive style of awareness that perceives the unity of things rather than just their separation.

Module 2: The Dance of Opposites

Now we can explore how this illusion of separation poisons our understanding of the world, especially the relationship between masculine and feminine. Watts observes that Western thought creates a symbolic hierarchy. Spirit, mind, and order are coded as "masculine." Nature, body, and spontaneity are coded as "feminine." This isn't just an abstract idea; it shapes our entire culture.

From this foundation, Watts reveals a powerful insight. Spirituality and sexuality are two sides of the same coin. The historical conflict between them is really a conflict between the conscious will and everything it cannot control. The ascetic who renounces sex does so to enhance conscious control. Why? Because sexuality is a prime example of biological spontaneity. It doesn't obey the ego's commands. St. Augustine wrote about the "shameful" spontaneity of the sexual organs, which move independently of the will. This shame is the ego's frustration at its own lack of control.

This leads to a crucial re-framing. The real conflict is between abstract ideas and concrete reality. Watts introduces the concept of māyā from Indian philosophy. It's often misunderstood as meaning the world is an illusion. But its root meaning is "to measure." Māyā is the mind's act of chopping reality into bits and pieces, into concepts and categories. The illusion is mistaking this mental grid for reality itself. When we pursue sexuality as an abstract idea—a goal to be achieved, a conquest, an escape—it becomes māyā. This creates the endless, fruitless cycle of puritanism and licentiousness. One represses sex, the other obsesses over it. Both are treating it as a separate "thing," not as an integrated part of life.

Ultimately, Watts argues love is the experience of a complete, non-dual relationship. It is the recognition of a pre-existing unity. He uses the metaphor of a dance. In a dance, there is only the unified pattern of the dance itself. The partners "arise mutually." You can't have a front without a back, or a top without a bottom. Likewise, the masculine and feminine principles are interdependent poles of a single reality. True intimacy is the playful, spontaneous dance between these poles.