Church of the Churchless

My enormous ego wonders if ego is real

Yesterday Walker left a comment on a recent post that included an insult:

Your valiant attempts to encourage Brian to examine his own comments is wasted, he is blinded by his own enormous ego.

Well, let's say attempted insult.

Because I responded by telling Walker that we must be ego-brothers. After all, what would make someone say that another person has an enormous ego except...ego?

So we must be talking degrees of enormity here.

Now, with another male organ it's a compliment to be told, "You've got a big one!" But with the ego, smaller usually is considered better-- especially by religions.

Buddhism and other Eastern faiths urge us toward ego-loss. Christianity preaches humility, turning the other cheek, and bowing down before God. Which leads me to wonder:

Why would it be an insult to tell a guy who runs a Church of the Churchless blog that he has an enormous ego? My motivation for wanting a tiny ego certainly wouldn't be religious.

And it goes without saying that anyone who has a blog isn't lacking inventory in the Ego Department. (You've got to believe that the world is dying to know that your cat just had kittens, four black and one calico!)

Here's a bigger problem with Walker's comment. I've got no idea how big my ego is. In fact, I don't even know if it exists. Where the hell is it?

Tell me, then maybe I could measure it. "Ego" is an abstraction, not all that other-worldly than "God." Nobody has ever seen an ego. Just like God.

Of course, something can exist and not be visible. Quarks, for example. However, their effects can be seen.

So tell me what "Ego" is supposed to do, how it has an effect in the world, and then maybe I could figure out a way to measure how large mine is compared to the average.

It might turn out, though, that ego ends up being both (1) an illusive concept, and (2) more positive than everyday speech and ego-hating religions make it out to be.

Meaning, actions associated with "ego" could be so intertwined with the ability to get things done in the world that "You've got a big ego!" could be viewed as almost synonymous with You're effective.

But I don't know for sure. That shows I'm pretty humble, doesn't it? Countering this indication of humility, however, is my desire to show off my knowledge of Sartre's "Being and Nothingness." 

It's 811 pages long! I bet my philosophical book is more enormous than yours!

Here's a passage from the translator's introduction I came across this morning that seems to support my position on ego -- which is why I'm quoting it, naturally. ("Being-in-itself" basically is unconscious existence, while "Being-for-itself" is what conscious creatures like you and I are.)

The divergency becomes more still more apparent if we compare Sartre's view with that of certain Eastern philosophies which identify desire with suffering and advocate the total annihilation of desire as a means of salvation. Here there are two important disagreements.

In the first place, with Sartre, to destroy all desire would be to destroy the For-itself -- not in the nothingness of Nirvana but absolutely. A satisfied For-itself would no longer be a For-itself. The For-itself is desire; that is, it is the nihilating project toward a Being which it can never have or be but which as an end gives the For-itself its meaning.

In the second place, desire is not placed on the same level by Sartre and, for example, Buddhism. In the latter, desire is the quality of the lesser personalized Self which must be destroyed if one is to realize one's greater non-personal potentialities.

But with Sartre, desire in its most fundamental sense belongs not to the psyche but to the non-personal consciousness. Only the derived specific desires are determined and evaluated in terms of the Ego, which, we may recall, is itself an object of consciousness.

Here again we find that the goal of Buddhism is part of Sartre's human data. Guilt for Buddhism lies in the specific desires of the personal self; guilt for Sartre is cherishing the illusion of possessing an absolute Self.

On a lighter note...

I love how Twitter feeds, a.k.a. Tweets, sometimes combine randomly to produce existential meaning when I turn on my iPhone and check what Twitterers I follow have been Tweeting about.

Here's a photo of what I saw this morning. (click to enlarge) Per usual, I find Bob Tzu's Tweets the most profound, in their non-profundity.

The main message I got from my iPhone, though, is how I wasn't able to use my iPhone's camera to take a photo of itself. That irritated me, because it's tougher to get images from my Sony camera into my laptop.

Why couldn't I point my iPhone at itself and capture an image of it? Hmmmm. When I figure that out I'll be ready to measure my ego, I guess.

Getting rid of religious garbage...also garbage?

It's great to dispose of garbage that's been hanging around, whether physical or conceptual. But it isn't easy to do this perfectly purely.

Back in my Systems Science graduate school days, in the late 1970's, I remember a classmate asking a heartfelt question: "I've started to recycle my plastics. But the best place to put the containers is in a plastic bag -- which can't be recycled. What can I do with the bag?"

Similarly, in Rational Mysticism science writer John Horgan speaks about how Zen (and similar disciplines) is viewed "as a kind of rubbish-removal system that cleanses the mind of extraneous beliefs and emotions so that we can see reality as it truly is."

Horgan says that he liked this metaphor at first. It makes skepticism into a virtue, since it clears away cumbersome beliefs on an intellectual level just as meditation ideally clears away beliefs on an experiential level.

However, he goes on...

My handling of real rather than metaphorical garbage gradually gave me a more complicated view of the matter. In my kitchen, we put garbage in bags that come in boxes of twenty. After I yank the last bag from its box, the box becomes trash, which I put in the bag. Sometime after I interviewed Susan Blackmore [who described Zen as garbage removal], every time I pulled the last bag from the box and stuffed the box into the bag, I intuited a paradox lurking within this ritual.

I went through more garbage bags than I care to mention before I solved the riddle: Every garbage-removal system generates garbage. Zen apparently works as an efficient garbage-removal system for Susan Blackmore and James Austin. But as minimalistic as it is, Zen clutters more than it clarifies my mind. Once I started down this line of thinking, it was hard to stop. I began looking askance at skepticism, too.

Maybe skepticism, instead of cleansing our vision, just substitutes one type of trash for another. Instead of belief in reincarnation, angels, ESP, E.T., parallel universes, and the Oedipus complex, the skeptic crams his mind with disbelief in reincarnation, angels, and so on. The problem is that any truth or anti-truth, no matter how initially revelatory and awe-inspiring, sooner or later turns into garbage that occludes our vision of the living world.

Well, that last sentence seems excessively negative to me.

I can see what Horgan is saying -- thinking about life isn't the same as actually living life -- but isn't obsessing over the exactitude of garbage removal also a form of mental garbage generation?

I mean, what if Horgan simply threw the empty box into the last garbage bag and didn't worry about creating a little bit of extra trash?

He's gotten rid of a whole lot of garbage in the twenty bags. What's the big deal with generating a small amount of trash in order to clean up a large amount? (Plus, the trash bags we use come in a cardboard box, which can be recycled.)

I'm more positive about skepticism than Horgan is. Sure, sweeping up a bunch of unnecessary beliefs that have been littering the floor of a psyche can result in a few bristles being dislodged from the skeptical broom.

No big deal. A small price to pay for a good mind-cleaning. Throw away the bits of skeptical residue and enjoy your dogma-free handiwork.

So I don't agree that skepticism is anywhere near as great a garbage-generator as religious belief. Still, Horgan does make this valid point:

Thinking, "I don't believe in unicorns" brings to mind...unicorns. Thinking, "I don't believe in God" brings to mind...God.

In this sense, skepticism needs to be a temporary consciousness-cleaning tool. It's possible to become as obsessed with not believing as in believing, just as some recently-divorced people can't stop talking about what a jerk their ex-spouse was.

Hey, you're divorced! Time to move on.

I suspect that some readers of this blog think that I spend most of the day pondering the evils of religion and what fresh churchless rant I'm going to write next.

Not true. Mostly my life is occupied with living.

Chores. Eating. Walking the dog. Exercising. Volunteering. Practicing Tai Chi. Riding my scooter. Watching TV. Sleeping. Reading the newspaper. Whatever.

I've done a pretty good job of taking out the dogma garbage that used to clutter up my mind. Most of my blog posts are more of a recollection of that cleaning process, than an effort to throw away more blind beliefs.

Alex Szeto of the Unitarian Universalists Hong Kong (UUHK) just emailed me a link to a video that makes a good point: not-believing isn't how people live their lives. It's as valid to say that Christians are people who don't believe in the Flying Spaghetti Monster as that atheists are people who don't believe in God.

Skepticism about religion isn't really about generating negative mind-garbage. It's an affirmation of the natural world. Take a look.

Imagine what it's like to be God in human form

To me, there's no evidence that God exists, not in the sense of an all-knowing, all-powerful personal consciousness, or something of the sort.

So I can't wrap my mind around the question, "What would it feel like to be God?" However, I do wonder what it's like to be a human who is considered to be God in human form: GIHF.

As some Vedanta folks point out, there are quite a few historical contenders for a GIHF appellation.

Jesus, Buddha, Rama, Krishna, Moses, Muhammad, Chaitanya, Ramakrishna are cited, though some of these names are questionable candidates. (Buddha didn't teach there was a God, and I don't think many Christians recognize Moses as God in human form.)

However, there's no doubt that quite a few people alive today are considered by devotees to be GIHF. For example, a central tenet of contemporary Sant Mat movements is that the "perfect living master," or guru, is an incarnation of God who has divine powers.

I was initiated by such a guru, Charan Singh, in 1971. I went to India in 1977 and spent two weeks at the headquarters of his organization, Dera Baba Jaimal Singh in the Punjab. In 1998 I returned for another couple of weeks and saw Charan Singh's successor, Gurinder Singh. I've also seen Gurinder Singh a number of other times, both in personal meetings and large gatherings.

Previously I've pondered the question, "Who is the guru?" I discounted the possibilities raised by Biblical scholar Bart Ehrman: liar, lunatic, the Lord, or legend. Loyalist made the most sense to me.

Perhaps when a successor is appointed to fill the shoes of a highly-regarded guru, loyalty both to his predecessor and to the surrounding organization prevents the newcomer from crying out, “Hey, I’m not God! I’m just a man filling the role of a guru.”

This still seems reasonable to me.

However, when I try to imagine what it's like for a guru to sit on a dais in front of tens of thousands of people who consider him to be God in human form, I'm still left with some uncomfortable questions.

Which are founded on a basic assumption: either the guru (1) knows that he is divine, possessing miraculous powers, or (2) he doesn't. 

If (1) is true, the usual theological quandries concerning God pop up.

Why does God choose to remain so well hidden? Why does God allow pain, suffering, ignorance, war, disease, and all the other ills of humankind to persist? Why doesn't God explicitly reveal himself, herself, or itself and put an end to all of the divisive religious wrangling?

As noted before, I think the "guru is God" theory is exceedingly unlikely. For one thing, there are lots of gurus in the world, many with contradictory teachings. What are the chances that one guru among many is genuinely divine, while the others are fakes?

So I'm drawn to option (2): the guru knows that he isn't God in human form, but carries on with a role that demands that he act as if he is.

All I can do is imagine how I'd feel in such a situation. Most likely, somewhat guilty. Well, probably more than that: considerably guilty. In part I base this prediction on my ill-fated Kirby vaccum-selling experience in college.

I was desperate for a summer job. I responded to a notice saying I could make good money in some sort of undisclosed fashion. When disclosed, it turned out to be selling Kirby vacuums door to door. 

I never sold any. For which I'm glad.

The closest I came was after I got an elderly lady on the edge of agreeing to buy one of these over-priced vacuums. As instructed, I used her phone to call my supervisor and pretend that I was asking him for a special deal, just for her, because she was such a special, wonderful, deserving person, blah, blah, blah.

I dialed the number. Made my spiel for the lady's benefit. Listened to the Kirby supervisor laugh and urge me to go for the sales kill.

I didn't make the sale. After I left her house I turned in my stuff to Kirby central, saying I was quitting. Probably I spent the rest of the summer smoking pot -- a better use of my time than trying to con old ladies.

I'm not saying that Sant Mat gurus are con artists. Only that if people are saying you're divine, and you know you aren't, this isn't all that different from selling a product under false pretenses.

No money is charged for initation by the guru. But initiates buy into Sant Mat with a lot of emotional, intellectual, and devotional commitment. I know I did.

Much of that commitment stemmed from a belief that the guru was who he was held out to be: God in human form, someone who had taken on the task of saving souls from karmic imprisonment and returning them to the highest spiritual realm, Sach Khand.

It's difficult for me to believe that a guru would accept people for initiation knowing that he wasn't able to to fulfill that promise, that it was a sham.

Yet it's also difficult for me to believe that I used to believe what I did. So I'm left not knowing how to look upon the guru.

Soon after I wrote "Who is the guru?" I followed it up with "God-man or Asshole? The guru conundrum." It still is. A conundrum.

I don’t know which is true: God-man or Asshole. All I know is that for me, seeing is believing. I’ll believe someone is God when I see unequivocal evidence of this (as to what that might be, all I can say is that I’ll know it when I see it). Until then, if you say you’re God, I’m going to use my alternative title for you.

Churchless are on the march! (And looking good)

Ah, there's nothing more enjoyable than watching a beautiful Romanian atheist sit on the edge of her bed and seduce me with wise words about the ridiculousness of religion.

Well, let's say there's only a few things more enjoyable.

Thanks to Pharyngula, I was turned on to a great You Tube video, "Fool!" The girl is gorgeous, intelligent, and knows her science stuff. What's not to like?

I thought her final remarks about atheists being on the march, soon to pop up everywhere, were terrific. Humor is one of the best retorts to fundamentalist fools, who usually are deadly dogmatically serious.

This girl has made quite a few other videos, so there's more enjoyment waiting if you like her as much as I do.

If your taste runs more to good looking non-religious males, you'll be pleased to know that Brad Pitt has come out. As 20% atheist and 80% agnostic.

Here's a few other delicious churchless tidbits that I munched on recently...

Mark Morford nailed it in his entertaining column, God is not your bitch -- This just in: It is hugely unlikely God cares much about your sex life

I find I am in a constant swoon of giddy amazement at this universal phenomenon, the fabulous, hubris-loaded idea that God is not actually an unfathomable river of cosmic energy to be supped from like liquid light, while you still take complete responsibility for your own life and choices. Nor is God simply the idea of universal love and compassion, coursing through all things at all times everywhere. How silly to think.

No, God is, apparently, actually far more like some sort of heavyset, hectoring grandmother who reads your email and pokes through your underwear drawer and hates your girlfriend and is, for the most part, very, very disappointed in you. Great!

And while I had a few quibbles with "The Silliest Smear," I heartily agree that saying atheists are as fundamentalist as religious fundamentalists is ridiculous.

Finally, there is the bogus equivalent with atheist certainty and religious certainty. Yes, Answers in Genesis is certain that the world is 6,000 years old, and Richard Dawkins is certain that it isn't. The fact is that only one of them is right, and I'm going to say it right here: it's Mr Dawkins. There is a difference—call it a fundamental one—between being certain and wrong and being certain and right.

...Until god does prove the atheists wrong with an indisputable miracle and Messrs Harris, Dawkins and Dennett still cling to their atheism, fundamentalist religion and "fundamentalist" atheism cannot be put on the same footing. And until those al-Darwinia brigades arrive and start beheading people, "fundamentalist" is a slander against athiest journalists and academics whose sharpest weapon is a pen.

Child sacrifice gets a yellow light in Oregon

Today an Oregon jury came to a verdict in what I call a child sacrifice case.

Carl and Raylene Worthington let their 15-month old daughter, Ava, die because their bizarre variety of Christianity teaches that Jesus cures illnesses, not doctors.

All I needed to know to conclude that Ava's parents should rot in jail for a really long time was summed up by Ava's grandfather, Guy, in a newspaper story.

Worthington said no one in his family has seen a doctor and has no use for them. Instead, they put their trust in God, he said.

"Jesus Christ almighty can cure anything," Worthington said.

"Doctors are irrelevant?" Horner asked .

"Correct," Worthington said.

Even if it's a life-threatening situation, Horner asked.

Calling a doctor shows "a lack of faith," Worthington said.

After lengthy deliberations, the jury absolved Ava's parents of manslaughter charges, which could (and should) have gotten them up to six years in prison. Instead...

The jury convicted the father, Carl Brent Worthington, of criminal mistreatment, a misdemeanor carrying a maximum sentence of a year in jail. The mother, Raylene Worthington, was acquitted in the 2008 death of their daughter Ava.

Why was the mother given a free ride? Because in their patriarchal Christian household, the husband makes all of the important decisions.

So far apparently only one juror, Ashlee Santos, has agreed to talk with the media. Her comments struck me as annoyingly clueless. I'm glad I wasn't in the jury room with Ashlee. My head probably would have exploded.

“Just because something isn’t normal to you. It doesn’t mean it’s bad or doesn’t work. As parents we all make our own decisions and sometimes they’re not the best. But I really do feel like they were loving people who cared about their kids and truly didn’t mean for anything to happen so tried not to judge them on beliefs and religion, they’re just like everybody else, just a little bit different.”

Jesus fucking Christ!

Yes, Ashlee, you freaking idiot, sometimes abnormal beliefs are bad and don't work. Like if you believe that Jesus is going to heal your daughter and she dies of an easily treatable medical problem.

That's when it is absolutely imperative that we judge parents who want to practice child sacrifice, because nobody has the right to kill an innocent person in the name of God.

A columnist for the Portland Oregonian, Susan Nielsen, correctly said that we helped kill little Ava, too. "We" being everyone who gives religious believers special treatment under the law because, gosh, belief is sacred, isn't it?

Oregon law still includes several exemptions and defenses based on religious belief, which foster some confusion about liability. The law also allows for much shorter sentences for parents who can claim a religious motivation than for parents who can't. (If you're high on meth when your child dies of neglect, you'll rot in prison. But if you're high on religion, you'll enjoy some grace at the courthouse.)

Steve Duin, another Oregonian columnist, pointed out the hypocrisy of Ava's Bible-toting parents, who had plenty of faith in Jesus' powers when it wasn't their ass on the line, just their daughter's life, but ran to get the help of a doctor when they faced six years in jail.

As the issues of crime, punishment and the death of Ava Worthington head to a Clackamas County jury, those 12 men and women will contemplate a precious irony:

The parents who would not summon a doctor to their home to save their child called a doctor to the witness stand to save themselves.

Carl Brent and Raylene Worthington relied on half-baked spiritual remedies when their daughter was at risk, but their lawyers have resorted to garden-variety defense tactics in an effort to spare these parents the cost of discipleship.

I could almost -- but not quite -- have respected the Worthington's if they'd told the judge and jury, "We let Ava die because we believed Jesus would heal her. Now, we offer no defense of our actions, other than our religious beliefs. Whatever God wills the jury to decide, we accept it."

That would have showed some courage of their convictions. Stupid convictions, admittedly, but courageous and consistent.

Instead, Ava's parents showed that they really have loads of faith in the medical profession, so long as the doctor has been called to the witness stand to testify in their defense.

The Oregonian editorial board is glad that the jury convicted Carl Worthington of criminal child neglect. I wish I could be so positive. I'm angry that the jury gave a yellow light to child sacrifice in my state.

Maybe the Economic Development Department can use this story in trying to attract businesses to Oregon:

"Are you a creative entrepreneur with equally creative personal beliefs, like It's OK to let children die without medical care? In some states, you will be judged for having some little eccentricities like that. But here in Oregon, child sacrifice is just a misdeneamor  -- no big deal. Oregon: we accept you as you are, even if you're a child killer."

I defend science against an unfair attack

I enjoy reading every comment posted on my blogs. Even those I strongly disagree with.

Hey, especially those, in this sense: When what we value is attacked, our reaction tells us a lot about ourselves.

Before I read the comment that Jayme posted yesterday, I knew that I loved science and the scientific method. But experiencing what I felt when I read his unfair attacks on science made me realize this more deeply.

So, thank you, Jayme. I respect the passion with which you ripped into science and scientists. Now I'll exercise my right to respond with some of the same energy.

Some key quotes from Jayme's rather lengthy comment on the post "Science bashers, read this before you comment" (which I hope he did!) are indented in italics. My responses are un-indented plain type.

According to Brian's theory of scientific truth (as best as I can understand) the mainstream science is de facto true until changed on the rest of us by those given (or who have taken) authority to change it. Most of us who do not agree with mainstream scientists are, by definition, wrong.

No, not "by definition." By practice, by evidence, by observation. Since the Enlightenment science has made great advances in understanding the natural world -- especially in the past hundred years or so.

Mainstream science is humankind's most valid and complete repository of facts about the outer world of shared reality (as contrasted with the inner world of private reality that is an individual's conscious experience alone).

Given all the effort that has gone into gathering, analyzing, testing, and debating these facts, it is unlikely that any single person is going to come up with a fresh finding that will immediately make scientists jump up, clap, and yell "Bravo! What an amazing discovery!"

Everyone has the ability to change the truths of mainstream science. But this doesn't come just by saying "Believe me." That's how religion operates, by belief. Science demands evidence.

If you've got it, almost certainly science eventually will say "You're right." Until that proof is provided and run through the skeptical grinder of the scientific method to test its solidity, you'll be met with a "Show me."

It forces others who don't believe in the mainstream to meet in secret and discuss these fringe topics out of earshot of the mainstream who will cry "HERESY!" and seek to destroy their opposition through science education camps, studies, ridicule, and interactive museums designed to indoctrinate the youth.

Wow. Jayme, you make science sound like a Hitler youth camp. Come on.

As noted above, scientists are open to new ideas. But they'll remain in the category of Mere Idea until evidence is provided that indicates an idea reflects how the natural world really is, or functions.

Scientists love debate, controversy, arguments, and such.

However, the scientific method demands that this game of Show Me proceed under certain rules. Seemingly what you consider a cry of heresy is science calmly saying, "Interesting notion, but what's the evidence in support of it?"

Most mainstream science is fairly predictable within a prefabricated theoretical architecture of known principles and experiments. But science on the fringe is where the breakthroughs and new phenomena are discovered or explained. Many professional careers are ended when leaving the mainstream for fringe areas at the end of the world. UFOs, paranormal research, antigravity, perpetual motion, big foot, crop circles, psychedelics, alternative cosmologies, etcetera - are interesting places to kill a career while making a living by selling to a popular fringe audience.

There's a lot not to agree with here. Prefabricated theoretical architecture? I assume you mean such things as electromagnetism, gravity, relativity theory, quantum mechanics, cellular biology, neuroscience, and all the other facts science knows about the world.

Your computer uses this science, so your ability to post a comment on my blog testifies to the non-theoretical nature of the scientific method.

I disagree that breakthroughs in science occur on the sorts of "fringes" you cited. Einstein didn't leave pre-existing science and mathematics behind when he came up with his theories of relativity. Rather, he took what was known and extended it into new territory.

All of the subjects you mentioned are legitimate areas of scientific inquiry. So far, most have come up empty on the evidence front. It isn't that science considers these areas taboo. Rather, they just are nonproductive fields for a scientist to focus on.

Believe me, the first person to come up with a genuine perpetual motion machine won't have any trouble being accepted by mainstream science. A Nobel Prize almost certainly awaits him or her.

Most science tells a good story but mostly science is like any collective belief system bent on self preservation: only, with science, the priests tell a much more potent truth about a consensus reality supported by abstract facts and obscure causal relations. They can explain to you ad nauseum why you are wrong to think what you do.

Priests? Oh, you must be referring to scientists.

This is such a specious non-argument, which I encounter disturbingly frequently. "Science is just another religion." No, it isn't. Religion is religion. Science is science. 

Jayme, I don't understand what you mean by "abstract facts and obscure causal relations." Again, science leads to discoveries that actually change the way humans can do things.

Like, fly in an airplane. Observe what is happening inside a brain. Communicate over the Internet. Talk on a cell phone. All this isn't abstract or obscure at all. You've got things backward.

Religion is the field that specializes in abstractness and obscurity, not science. As to scientists explaining why you're wrong, may I suggest: listen to them. You probably will find that indeed you are wrong. 

To say that we have to wait for the "truth" science has to offer before we can call it truth is giving one's own authority away. Any scientist who is pushing a theory is simply making up a good story that seems to fit the facts. It is only true because other scientists who are popular with their peers have agreed it is true and it seems to fit the facts.

False. My Taoist sensibilities lead me to explain the situation this way, Jayme. You're confusing two separate, but interrelated, things.

(1) There is what's happening in the world, cosmos, universe, whatever you want to call life's playing field. (2) There is how we make our way through, around, and within what's happening.

Broadly speaking, (1) is the domain of science, while (2) is the domain of philosophy, spirituality, religion, mysticism, and such -- including the arts.

Nothing, absolutely nothing, in science or the scientific method prevents anyone from embracing any darn way-making they choose. What turns you on, meaning-wise, go for it.

Nobody can take that away from you. And certainly science has no desire to.

What seems to bother you is that the scientific method demands evidence before a new understanding of "what's happening" is accepted. This is as it should be, because the playing field of life belongs to everybody.

It's shared territory, while your private form of way-making or meaning-making is yours alone.

You are way off base when you claim that scientific theories are accepted only because popular scientists have gotten agreement from their peers that such and such is true. Your statement "and it seems to fit the facts" is much more accurate.

Yes, to be accepted, a truth has to fit the facts. If this bothers you, I can understand why you dislike science.

Here's the big cosmic question: "What's the question?"

Back in my true believing days, I figured that I knew both the questions to ask and what the answers were. For example:

Q. How does one return to God?
A. Get initiated by a perfect living guru, and follow his teachings about meditation and other matters.

A Christian, on the other hand, would think along these lines:

Q. How is one saved from sin?
A. By accepting Jesus as his or her personal savior.

Of course, the questions presume quite a bit.

In my case, that there is a God. And it is possible (plus desirable) to return to God. In the Christian case, that there is sin. And one needs to be saved from it.

How do we know that we're even capable of asking meaningful cosmic questions? (By "cosmic," I'm referring to ultimate, metaphysical, and deeply existential sorts of queries.)

Asking a good question means that we know quite a bit about something. At the least, that it exists as some thing. Having come to this conclusion, we can inquire about its thingness.

If God exists, then it makes sense to wonder what God is like. If salvation is possible, then it makes sense to seek a way to be saved. If human beings have (or are) an immaterial soul, then it makes sense to try to experience this state of being.

If. If. If.

A lot of theological and metaphysical discussions, on this blog and elsewhere, assume that a good question has been asked. Much or most of the time, this assumption presumes the existence of something for which there is no convincing evidence.

It took me quite a while to begin to realize this. Once I did, I started down a churchless path.

At first I came to a mental signpost that said, "I know the Big Questions of Life. But I don't know the answers." Continuing onward, I reached another milestone: "I'm clueless about what questions to ask of the cosmos."

Let's take the oft-cited biggie: Why is there something rather than nothing?

Answers to this ultimate cosmic question can be put forth, but they're unsatisfying, whether religious, scientific, or philosophical. That Why in the query... why is it there?

I mean, why not take that word out, and switch the next two words around? Leaving: There is something rather than nothing.

We can all agree with that.

Making a question out of existence's existence could be the ultimate cosmic joke. Understand, I don't know that it is. But it seems more likely to me that we humans have no idea what to ask about existence, then that we know enough to ask a meaningful question.

As noted earlier, something has to exist before we can ask a good question about it. Existence exists -- that seems pretty damn clear.

But is it some thing? That's a great question. Or, an incredibly lousy one. Who knows?

In my wisest moments of mystic intuition, which could also arguably be described as my most vivid delusions, I grok:

The cosmos just is. Religions and philosophies come up with a freaking large load of conceptual crap about ultimate origins. What is, is. That's it. A-fucking-men.

That isn't a question. Or an answer either. Just an embrace of cosmic mystery.

Godlessness is a true culture of life

I've never understood how fundamentalist Christians in the United States are able to argue that they're supporters of a culture of life, while the rest of us godless heathens apparently favor a culture of death.

The way I see it, the truth is exactly opposite.

Those who don't believe in God, an afterlife, or commandments handed down by a distant divinity are much more likely to favor individual actions, and collective social policies, that favor life over death.

For example, here in Oregon a jury currently is deliberating whether the parents of 15 month old Ava Worthington are guilty of manslaughter for letting her die of a treatable infection because their Christian religious beliefs taught that prayer is the solution to medical problems, not doctors.

To me, they're guilty, no matter what the jury legally decides.

What parents would stand by and watch their child die when they could have easily saved her? Answer: fundamentalists who surely believe that now Ava is in the hands of Jesus and God is pleased with them for choosing death over life.

If this life each of us is living now is the only existence we'll ever have, then every moment is almost (or exactly) infinitely precious. Life shouldn't be discarded lightly based on an evidence-less assumption that there will more of it to enjoy after the body dies.

This usually isn't talked about explicitly, but I'm convinced that the beliefs of the Christian majority in this country go a long way toward explaining why dying often is taken so lightly by Americans.

Grieving parents of a soldier killed in Iraq, or the wife of a man killed in a mountain climbing accident, will say in an interview, "I know he's in a better place now."

Actually, they don't know this. They believe this.

And that belief supports a culture of death -- in that a foreshortened life isn't viewed as having taken away a good part of a person's only chance to experience living, but merely transferred their existence to another domain of reality: heaven.

Now, I'm not arguing that progressive political policies, which I generally favor, are more in tune with a culture of life than conservative policies. (Others have, though.)

I'm simply suggesting that both individual and societal moral decisions would be made more wisely in the absence of metaphysical assumptions about an afterlife, God's will, and such. What we know is that people are born, and eventually they die.

What happens to an individual, if anything, before birth and after death is a belief -- not a knowing. If living a life here on Earth is needlessly sacrificed, cut short, or considered insignificant for any other-worldly reason, that's wrong.

Which is why I see religion as supporting a culture of death, not life.

(For another perspective on this, in a continuation here's a recent comment from Adam on a post about death and non-existence, followed by my response to him.)

Support individual searching for meaning

My Indisputable Churchless Truths have been holding up pretty well, judging from the comments on them so far. So I've been pondering their implications for how I, and others, react to peoples' descriptions of what they find meaningful in life.

One of the truths is:

Each individual must determine, or choose, his or her own meaning of life, because life's meaning isn't a given like gravity or electromagnetism.

Religions consider otherwise, of course. A true believer finds the meaning of life in the Bible, Koran, Vedas, Guru Granth Sahib, or the words of some revered spiritual teacher.

Yet this still is a choice -- to accept a set of religious beliefs. So we can't get away from the need for individuals, whether churched or churchless, to determine what makes life meaningful for them.

This blog is dedicated to supporting non-religious searching for meaning. As I've mentioned before, when I started the Church of the Churchless in 2004, it didn't take me long to come up with a pithy "tag line" to put at the top of the page.

Preaching the gospel of spiritual independence

(I'm not nearly as fond of the term "spiritual" now, but it still is useful shorthand for a non-religious pursuit of what life is all about -- more appealing to most people than "philosophical independence," for sure.)

I wanted to bring this up because I find that some commenters on this blog, including me from time to time, fail to make a distinction between (1) a statement of collective religious belief and (2) a description of what an individual finds spiritually or philosophically meaningful.

There isn't a hard and fast distinction between (1) and (2), but they clearly are different.

Example: someone leaves a comment on a post that says Christianity, Islam, Sant Mat, Hinduism, or another religion is true, and I'm an idiot for not recognizing this. I'll respond along the lines of Oh, yeah, who says? Show me the evidence.

However, if someone comments, "I really enjoy meditating in the morning as [fill in a spiritual practice] teaches," what goes through my mind is That's great. I'm glad this person has found something that is so meaningful to him or her.

Likewise, it doesn't bother me to hear, "I don't know if my religion is true, but I get a lot of satisfaction from believing in it." This is humble, non-dogmatic, personal.

Whatever people want to believe, that's their right. They just shouldn't demand that anyone else accept beliefs that have no demonstrable convincing evidence behind them.

(However, I also have quite a bit of sympathy for The Wandering Taoist's position in his "Nothing Personal" post, which argues that individual religious beliefs can have significant collective consequences that affect many other people.)

Where I think some commenters on this blog go awry -- and I'll admit that occasionally I've been guilty of this -- is treating someone's personal statement about what is meaningful to him or her as if this was You Must Believe! religious dogma.

I'm fine with attacks on collective religious authoritarism. But not with questioning someone's individual philosophy of life.

Especially when that someone is me.

Not so much because I'm so important to me (though naturally I am), but because the questioning of what is meaningful to me made me realize that it's unfair to do this to anybody.

Understand: I'm cool with criticism, debate, or disagreement of something I write. I've been an avid writer for most of my life. I'm used to people approving or disapproving of what flows from my mind and onto paper (or now, screen).

However, recently I got quite a bit of grief from some commenters when I talked about how much I enjoyed philosophical Taoism -- which is about as far from religion as a "spiritual" (broadly speaking) philosophy can be.

This made me realize that sometimes this blog can get off track, since its goal is to support an individual's non-religious search for meaning. Such is going to be essentially non-debatable, since meaning is much more of an I like, not an I'm right.

I like strawberries (particularly the Oregon variety). Who can disagree wth my liking?

I like philosophical Taoism. Who can disagree with my liking? 

When I express my adoration for strawberries or Taoism, I'm not saying that you should like them also. I'm simply describing what I find appealing about these things. I'd enjoy it if you tried them and found them likable also, but I've got no expectation of that.

Anyway, I wanted to throw these thoughts out in a hope that people who participate in comment conversations on this blog will ponder the difference between dogmatic religiosity and individual meaning.

We should challenge the former and support (or at least tolerate) expressions of the latter.

Truths about religion's falseness

Hey, it's a pleasant Oregon summer evening. I've got a full cup of hot organic coffee sitting next to my laptop. Seems like a good time to come up with some Indisputable Churchless Truths.

"Indisputable" is the caffeine speaking. I'm pretty sure that these truths will be disputed. In fact, I hope they are. After all, they're churchless truths.

Which means, they're open to debate, discussion, disputation. If you don't agree with any of them, or want to add a truth, comment away. Just have a good reason.

That said, you'll note that I don't supply reasons for the truthfulness of my Indisputable Churchless Truths. That's because I consider them to be self-evident.

Of course, I'm me and you're you. What is crystal clear to me may elicit an I don't see it that way in you.

So share your own viewpoint if you disagree with mine.

All I ask is that since I start out by assuming these truths are indisputable, you need to offer up some good evidence or arguments if you disagree with any of them.

Indisputable Churchless Truths

(1) There is no demonstrable, convincing evidence of the God posited by the world's theistic religions (a personal God who created the universe and continues to look after it).

(2) There is no demonstrable, convincing evidence that humans live on after death in the form of soul, an astral body, or whatever.

(3) There is no demonstrable, convincing evidence that consciousness is metaphysical.

(4) There is no demonstrable, convincing evidence that any person, living or dead, has performed a miracle (meaning, using powers or abilities clearly beyond the known laws of nature).

(5) The primal questions about existence --"Why is there something rather than nothing?" or "How is there something rather than nothing?" -- are unanswered by both science and religion (and likely always will remain so).

(6) Each individual must determine, or choose, his or her own meaning of life, because life's meaning isn't a given like gravity or electromagnetism.

(7) Spirituality is an individual affair; evidence of any metaphysical realities that may exist will be subjective, not demonstrable to others.

(8) Since the veracity of each and every religion is unprovable, equally unprovable are the moral and ethical tenets derived from any and all religious teachings.

(9) Societal norms or laws are purely human, not divine.

(10) Notwithstanding the name given to these Indisputable Churchless Truths, each of them may be disputed, including this one.

"The Story of Suzie" shows strangeness of religion

Thanks to Pharyngula I learned about The Story of Suzie, a clever video look at how religion warps how people relate to reality.

Churchless lesson: a tale of two fairs

What can fair-going teach us about churchlessness? Glad I asked. I'll answer my own question...

Thursday I went to the Marion County Fair here in Salem to relieve my wife of crushing boredom -- a four hour shift on a slow day womaning a booth sponsored by an earth-friendly organization she belongs to.

I chatted with her for a while, then explored the fair. At the other end of the exhibit hall I came across some sort of senior citizen "athletic" event, the quotation marks being justified by this bean bag toss nature of the activity.

Apparently senior centers were competing against each other, as the players were decked out in team t-shirts. Though I'm sixty myself, I found the whole scene more than a little depressing.

Chairs lined up in neat rows. Everyone sitting politely until their turn to toss came up. A youthful coordinator (staff member? volunteer?) keeping the game in order. I wanted to hear some trash talk.

Hey, granny, you got nothing! With those bony arms you'll going to throw that bag all the way to the end of your big toe. Forgot your Geritol?

The rest of the county fair had a similarly unnatural, sterile, unhealthy, overly organized feel to it. I kept thinking, "This is all-American." Along with, "America could use some improving."

A day later my wife and I drove an hour or so south of Salem to the Eugene'ish Oregon Country Fair. What a difference!

Here's a photo of one of the wonderfully chaotic parades that wend their way through the twisting, tree-lined, organic paths that fairgoers wander as they peruse the fair's cornucopia of counterculture artistry.

(You can persuse other photos of the Oregon Country Fair on the blog post I put up last night, and there's many great photos on the Fair web site.)

The contrasting atmosphere at the two fairs struck me as reflective of the difference between religiosity and churchlessness:

Uptight vs. hang loose
Rigid vs. flowing
Communal conformity vs. individual expression
Seriousness vs. smiles
Commandments vs. relaxed "whatever"

Now, I don't want to give the impression that the Oregon Country Fair is unorganized. It is anything but.

From buying tickets, to parking, to reasonable rules (no alcohol, for example), our fair-going experience was enhanced by the much-appreciated work of many volunteers and a few full-time staff.

However, I loved the looseness of the Fair -- how the organization (comparable to a loosely defined philosophy of life) contributed to the free expression of individuality, rather than limiting it.

Recently some commenters on this blog have suggested that all philosophies with even a hint of metaphysics to them, such as Taoism and Buddhism, can be equated with overtly dogmatic and authority-based religions, such as Christianity and Sant Mat.

Well, this is akin to saying that because the Marion County Fair and Oregon Country Fair share a last name, this makes them the same. Experience each of them, though, and the differences are evident and obvious.

Me, I prefer my philosophy of life to be churchless.

And my fair-going, heavier on the sex, drugs, and rock & roll (each much more present at the Oregon Country Fair than at the Marion County version) and lighter on tradition, conformity, and staidness.

Bruce Lee's Taoist life lessons

Most people are familiar with Bruce Lee as a famous martial artist. Lee's philosophical accomplishments are less well known. But they are part and parcel of his Jeet Kune Do artistry.

This morning I couldn't resist -- I jumped ahead and read the final chapter in Daniele Bolelli's "On the Warrior's Path: Philosophy, Fighting, and Martial Arts Mythology."  It's called "Epistemological Anarchism, The Philosophy of Jeet Kune Do."

Bruce Lee's philosophy is rooted in Taoism. The past few days I've been enjoying some spirited discussion about Taoism in comment conversations on posts here and here.

I've been arguing that philosophical Taoism (as contrasted with its religious variety) isn't metaphysical or other-worldly, but instead is focused on the art of earthly living. Bolelli's description of Lee's Taoist leanings fits with my conception of Taoism.

Bolelli notes that Lee was at odds with much of Chinese culture, since religious Buddhism and Taoism, plus the rigid moral structures of Confucianism, don't fit with the iconoclastic Jeet Kune Do philosophy.

As we can see, then, Lee's love for philosophical Taoism and for the most radical aspects of Buddha's teachings was hardly in line with the diluted and simplified forms of Taoism and Buddhism favored by the masses. HIs philosophical outlook was therefore more at odds with Chinese tradition than consistent with it.

...By rejecting Confucianism and choosing to embrace the antiauthoritarian viewpoint of philosophical Taoism, Lee allied himself with the fringe-dwellers, the outcasts, the mavericks, the philosophical outlaws, the misfits of Chinese culture.

Ooh! Count me in! Those are my sorts of people. Following my sort of philosophy.

Whereas the philosophical Taoism and the Buddhism embraced by Lee can be subtle and paradoxical, Confucianism offers the security of precise formulas and simple, straightforward rules. Philosophical Taoism requires great sensitivity to be grasped. Confucianism is very easy to follow. Philosophical Taoism mocks rigid laws. Confucianism reveres them.

The philosophical side of martial arts is near to my heart, because I spent nine years studying traditional Shotokan karate -- an exemplar of a Confucian style (though Shotokan is rooted in Japanese culture).

About the time my churchlessness started to flower, I got disenchanted with the rigidity of Shotokan karate. I shifted to a mixed martial arts style and enjoyed the much looser dojo atmosphere (which included a photo of Bruce Lee on a wall).

After three-plus years of that, I've been Tai Chi'ing it for about five years (yes, Tai Chi is a martial art; even more, my instructor likes to say that it is the foundation of the martial arts).

So my evolution has been in the direction of Bruce Lee's Taoist Jeet Kune Do, whose basic precepts are "using no way as way" and "having no limitation as limitation." Lee encouraged his students to question everything and find out for themselves what works, and what doesn't.

Rather than establishing a new style, he [Lee] created a major controversy by suggesting that martial artists should be constantly involved in a process of research that never crystallizes its findings into a finished product....To Lee, an endless process of trial and error was therefore preferable to establishing one's day intuition as an immutable law.

Good advice. I've stopped meditating the way I was taught in my true believing phase, because I didn't feel that it was doing for me what I wanted. Now I'm much more eclectic.

Just as Lee used "whatever works" as his guiding philosophy, I don't feel that I need to follow any set of moral, ethical, or meditative dogmas. I'm still a vegetarian, but I drink a glass of red wine most evenings. I still meditate every morning, but I vary between mantra and mantra-less awareness, and worry a lot less about how much time I spend on my cushion.

Bolelli shares some good Bruce Lee quotations:

How can there be methods and systems to arrive at something that is living? To that which is static, fixed, dead, there can be a way, a definite path, but not to that which is living. Do not reduce reality to a static thing and then invent methods to reach it.

True observation begins when one sheds set patterns, and true freedom of expression occurs when one is beyond systems.

Knowledge is fixed in time, whereas, knowing is continual. Knowledge comes from a source, from accumulation, from a conclusion, while knowing is a movement.

Jeet Kune Do favors formlessness so that it can assume all forms and since Jeet Kune Do has no style, it can fit with all styles. As a result, Jeet Kune Do utilizes all ways and is bound by none and, likewise, uses any techniques or means which serve its ends.

More excellent Taoist advice. Lee makes the same point that I've been arguing in the above-mentioned comment conversations:

Philosophical Taoism's embrace of every way, depending on the circumstances, doesn't make this philosophy a defined belief system. Rather, it is the antithesis of religious, moralistic, or ethical dogmatism.

Bolellis says that Lee gave full power back to the individual through this set of "using no way as the way" aphorisms:

1. Research your own experience.
2. Absorb what is useful.
3. Reject what is useless.
4. Add what is specifically your own.

Sure sounds good for a churchless philosophy of life.

Epistemological anarchism, in fact, does not attempt to substitute one method for another. Rather, it frees individuals to find their own methods, and invites them to change them at will if, after some time, their discovery stops producing the desired results.

(For more about Bruce Lee's philosophy, check out my "Kung Fu meditating" post.)

Mysticism good. Religion bad. So says Sam Harris.

My churchlessness was wonderfully energized by Sam Harris' "The End of Faith" when it came out in 2004 -- the same year I started this blog.

Harris has a philosophy degree from Stanford and is working on a doctorate in neuroscience, so he's got a balanced perspective on soft beliefs and hard facts.

This morning I picked up The End of Faith and reread the almost-final "Experiments in Consciousness" chapter. I'd remembered that he'd said positive things about mysticism after trashing religion, and was curious to revisit his thoughts after five years or so.

My conclusion: right on, Mr. Harris.

At the core of every religion lies an undeniable claim about the human condition: it is possible to have one's experience of the world radically transformed...The problem with religion is that it blends this truth so thoroughly with the venom of unreason.

The challenge for us is to begin talking about this possibility in rational terms....It is difficult to find a word for that human enterprise which aims at happiness directly -- at happiness of a sort that can survive the frustration of all conventional desires.

The term "spirituality" seems unavoidable here -- and I have used it several times in this book already -- but it has many connotations that are, frankly, embarrassing. "Mysticism" has more gravitas, perhaps, but it has unfortunate associations of its own.

Neither word captures the reasonableness and profundity of the possibility that we must now consider: that there is a form of well-being that supersedes all others, indeed, that transcends the vagaries of experience itself.

Harris then launches into praise of "mysticism" that is as strong as his condemnation of religion. And he makes great good sense.

Over on this post we've been having an interesting comment conversation about whether Taoism and Buddhism (Dzogchen variety, particularly) can be considered metaphysical belief systems.

I've been arguing, "no." I'm pretty sure Sam Harris agrees. His description of his bookcase sounds a lot like mine, when he says:

I have selected a passage at random from a shelf of Buddhist literature. The following text was found with closed eyes on the first attempt from among scores of books. I invite the reader to find anything even remotely like this in the Bible or the Koran.

Harris has a lot of evident fondness for Buddhism. Me too, along with Taoism -- writings about which occupy center stage on my own bookcase.

Both philosophies are firmly rooted in the reality of everyday human experience, not some airy-fairy other-worldly metaphysics. The passage Harris found in his Buddhist book talks about manifest awareness and the absence of an observer.

It is psychologically profound. Also, entirely consistent with modern neuroscience.

Similarly, the ancient Taoists grasped the importance of "being in the flow" way before sports announcers started saying excitedly, "Man, Kobe Bryant is out of his mind and in the zone! Forty points at halftime!"

My well-worn copy of Gia-Fu Feng and Jane English's translation of the Tao Te Ching says on the back cover:

The philosophy of Lao Tsu is simple: Accept what is in front of you without wanting the situation to be other than it is. Study the natural order of things and work with it rather than against it, for to try to change what is only sets up resistance.

...If we watch carefully, we will see that work proceeds more quickly and easily if we stop "trying," if we stop putting in so much extra effort, if we stop looking for results. In the clarity of a still and open mind, truth will be reflected.

Likewise, Harris writes:

This is an empirical claim, not a matter of philosophical speculation. Break the spell of thought and the duality of subject and object will vanish -- as will the fundamental difference between conventional states of happiness and suffering. This is a fact about the mind that few Western scholars have ever made it their business to understand.

It is on this front that the practice of meditation reveals itself to be both intellectually serious and indispensable. There is something to realize about the nature of consciousness, and its realization does not entail thinking new thoughts.

A few hours ago I started on my almost-daily dog walk, an event that Serena doesn't let me forget. We have two usual routes: a walk through the woods and around a lake that is a bit over a mile, and a more aerobically challenging two mile walk on a paved road loop.

I felt like going on the lake walk. It was evident that Serena was more in the mood for the road (more interesting smells, I suspect). I flowed with Serena. At first. Because when we came to a path that intersected the road, I headed down it.

Serena happily bounded ahead, off her leash. Heading toward the lake, albeit in a more indirect fashion that I at first intended, I realized that this route would have us avoid a hornet nest that my wife had noticed at dog nose height, near the trail on our property, and had warned me about.

It was the familiar "good news, bad news, who knows?" Taoist story.

I head off in an undesired direction, which ends up leading me to where I wanted to go -- perhaps avoiding a stinging problem that the dog and I could have encountered if I'd stuck with my initial conscious intention.

My unspectacular tale is the sort of everyday experience that Harris finds so interesting. And mysterious.

How does our consciousness guide us through life? How does unchanging awareness relate to the everchanging sensations, thoughts, emotions, desires, and such that continually course through our mind?

If these kinds of questions are termed "mystical," its because the answers are a mystery, not that investigating the nature of human consciousness leads us into some metaphysical realm.

But as Harris noted above, thinking about thoughts won't help in studying how awareness functions thoughtlessly. He adds:

We all know what it is like to read whole paragraphs, and even pages of a book without assimilating a word. Few of us realize that we spend most of our lives in such a state: perceiving the present -- present sights, sounds, tastes, and sensations -- only dimly, through a veil of thought.

We spend our lives telling ourselves the story of past and future, while the reality of the present goes largely unexplored. Now we live in ignorance of the freedom and simplicity of consciousness, prior to the arising of thought.

Religiosity can't exist without thoughts, concepts, dogmas, beliefs, imaginings.

Mysticism (or "spirituality," if you prefer that term) can. Non-religious Buddhists and Taoists are totally happy just being. No need to give a name to this, though "suchness" is used in Buddhism and the "way" in Taoism.

Science and religion have something in common: they both are focused on what exists within existence, on what consciousness is conscious of, on what knowing is knowledgeable about.

Mysticism is centered on bridging, or even dissolving, these dualities. Harris says:

Indeed, many suggest that it is our search for happiness -- our craving for knowledge and new experience, our desire for recognition, our efforts to find the right romantic partner, even our yearning for spiritual experience itself -- that causes us to overlook a form of well-being that is intrinsic to consciousness at every present moment.

...The experience of countless contemplatives suggests that consciousness -- being merely the condition in which thought, emotion, and even the sense of self arises -- is never actually changed by what it knows. That which is aware of joy does not become joyful; that which is aware of sadness does not become sad.

...The roiling mystery of the world can be analyzed with concepts (this is science), or it can be experienced free of concepts (this is mysticism). Religion is nothing more than bad concepts held in place of good ones for all time.

Tai Chi doesn't have much to do with "Qi"

George asked some good questions in a comment on this recent post. I responded briefly to the Tai Chi section of his query in a comment of my own, but wanted to reply more fully to these thoughts:

Why do even the most churchless on here appear to follow a spiritual practice of some kind? If truly churchless, why not be wholly secular and skeptical, devoid of any and all spiritual belief.

If on the other hand such spirituality is indeed practiced and tolerated, why not the same extended to other mystic traditions or religions? Christianity and RS [Radha Soami] have been slammed on here.

Brian appears to be an adherent of Tai Chi and sympathetic to Taoism. Fundamental to both is ‘chi’ or ‘qi’, which suggests an energy flow principle to all living things. There is also Yin Yang that presupposes an inherent dualistic nature to the universe. And of course there are masters who teach this discipline to disciples.

There is no evidence for ‘qi’ or a stream of energy flowing within us. Instead, we have blood that flows within our veins and arteries. Human anatomy does not consist of energy or life-energy pathways.

First, I think there may be some misunderstanding of Chinese terminology going on here. The "Chi" in Tai Chi doesn't have anything to do with "Qi."

Tai Chi Chuan, which is what I have been learning for about five years, often is translated as "Grand Fist Ultimate" (chuan meaning "fist," the martial aspect of Tai Chi). I'm no expert on Chinese, for sure, but I'm pretty sure Qi and Ch'i are synonymous, but certainly not Qi and Chi (without an apostrophe).

So when George said that Qi, or Ch'i, is fundamental to Tai Chi, this really isn't true. You can practice Tai Chi assiduously, and even become expert in it, without believing in the subtle energy known as Qi.

Some long-standing practitioners in my Tai Chi class are big on Qi and Qigong. Others aren't. As I mentioned to George in a comment, I've settled on viewing Qi as whatever energy I'm feeling in my body at any given moment.

This isn't a "spiritual" belief, in any way similar to the dogmas of Christianity or Radha Soami/Sant Mat. It is simple awareness of internal bodily sensations that usually people pass over or ignore, being focused on external objects and movements.

Further, a lot of research has been done on the health benefits of Tai Chi. My wife subscribes to the Harvard Women's Health Watch newsletter. The May 2009 issue had an article that described some of the medical evidence. (This is a 1 MB PDF file.)
Download Health benefits of Tai Chi

Tai chi is often described as "meditation in motion," but it might well be called "medication in motion." There is growing evidence that this mind-body practice, which originated in China as a martial art, has value in treating or preventing many health problems.

Scientific research demonstrates the benefits of Tai Chi, which I've experienced personally. However, it's true, as George said, that I'm also attracted to the philosophical side of Tai Chi, Taoism.

Churchlessness is a continuum, not a sharp divide between believing and not believing. Even so, George asked why not be "devoid of any and all spiritual belief?" Well, I'd say that I am.

I find nothing "spiritual" in Taoism. This is a wonderfully natural philosophy. Mind and body are integrated, not split into concepts of spirit and matter -- which most religions consider to be at odds with each other.

What I don't want to do is shut myself off to new knowledge, understandings, truths, insights into reality. But I also don't want to embrace weird beliefs that have no connection with what I know now.

Like everyone else, I'm a bodily being. Probably that's all I am, no soul or spirit included.

However, there are a lot of mysteries left to unravel about the human condition. Now I find that physical pursuits -- martial arts, dancing, horse riding, scootering/motorcycling -- are a valuable means of learning who I am and how I function best (plus being plain fun).

I used to be much more other-worldly, philosophically. Thus Tai Chi and Taoism are where I've ended up at the moment in my descent from abstract conceptual metaphysics to directly experienced here-and-now awareness.

In physicality, where Tai Chi and Taoism are rooted, there are no places to hide behind metaphysical mumbo-jumbo.

You either can balance on one leg in a Tai Chi form and perform a sole (not soul) kick, or you can't.

You either can gracefully move with your partner in a Tango overhead turn, or you can't.

You either can control your horse as it canters around barrels in an arena, or you can't.

You either can smoothly guide your scooter/motorcycle through a series of tight curves in the road, or you can't.

Each of these activities -- which I've done recently -- requires my mind and body to act together harmoniously. Tension, fear, anxiety, unsureness, or lack of confidence produce shaky results.

Learning about life in this fashion seems much more real to me than the "spiritual" practices I used to engage in. So, George, I hope this helps answer your questions. In the latter part of your comment, you addressed some queries to tAo about Dzogchen. He has responded in another comment, echoing some points I've just made.

Basically, to understand how someone looks upon a practice like Tai Chi or Dzogchen, it's necessary to dig into their individual approach to it. I can understand how you could look upon Tai Chi as a spiritual belief system, but in my experience it isn't anything like that.

Get bodily wild this Fourth of July

It's Independence Day here in the United States. July 4 is a great time to remind yourself, no matter where you are in the world, "I'm free -- independent of religious fantasies."

This afternoon I'm going to ride my newly-beloved Suzuki scooter through some beautiful countryside to nearby Independence, where a Fourth of July celebration is happening (seems appropriate to visit Independence, Oregon on Independence Day).

A very bodily activity. As if any of us can do anything else, so long as we're alive. What isn't bodily? Meditation sure is. Ditto for every other form of supposed "spiritual" practice.

Yesterday I started reading, "On the Warrior's Path: Philosophy, Fighting, and Martial Arts Mythology" by Danielle Bolelli. Already I can tell that I'm going to enjoy this book. A lot.

It's right up my alley -- a blend of religious skepticism, physical attunement, and martial arts realism. Here's some excerpts from the first few pages that I liked:

Both factions make a huge mistake. They look at spirituality as something strange, esoteric, removed from daily life. They look at it as if it were some far away dimension wrapped in clouds of mystery and incense, something with no connection to the most mundane aspects of life.

Forgetting that true spirituality is not ascetic nor against life, both its friends and foes call "spiritual" what is remote and beyond the material world. But spirituality is just the opposite. It is the quintessence of life. It is a way of waking up, of walking, of smiling, of dancing.

Spiritual are those who are not satisfied with surviving, but want to turn daily experiences into sources of ecstasy.

...Imagine Jesus Christ preaching after a session of Tai Chi Chuan. Probably, the entire Western culture would be drastically different. No rivalry between spirit and body. No tug-of-war between the soul yearning for Heaven and the body restraining it on Earth.

...The only thing that matters is the stream of energy flowing within us. The strength of an adult mammal, not different from that of a buffalo, a wolf, or a jaguar. A wild being aware of the life-force pulsating in every pore of the skin.

This is not just a physical experience. It is spiritual. It transforms the body as well as the character.

...Such an individual is a threat to every form of established authority. A wolf that can't be tamed. He is not under anyone's orders and doesn't accept dogmas because he already has within himself everything he needs to face life.

When streams of power flow in the veins of your body, dependency on external factors is reduced to a minimum. Confidence follows your every mood, and thus it is a pleasure to be surrounded by animals, mountains, and trees, since you don't have the feeling of being in a hostile environment.

It is a splendid, thrilling experience. Pure euphoria.

Happy Independence Day. Be wild.

Be wolf'ish. Howl. However you like.

You are your own commandments.

Confirmed: God is gay

Makes sense to me:

In nature, homosexuality, bisexuality, and omni-sexuality are ubiquitous.
God created nature, and is reflected in nature.

Thus, as Mark Morford demonstrates, God is gay. Somewhat, at least.

And gayness is entirely natural -- as is every other form of sexuality. Check off another instance where religions are wrong.

Right on, Richard Feynman

Thanks to Pharyngula, I was able to start my day off with an inspiring RIchard Feynman paean to reality, science, doubt, uncertainty, and godlessness.

Feynman was an amazing physicist. And this short video shows that he also was an amazing person.

Science is divine if nature is God's creation

OK, that's a big "if" in this blog post title. But let's assume for a non-churchless moment that God is real, and God created the physical universe.

So here we are, in God's marvelous creation. Living, breathing, pondering what existence is all about.

Part of that pondering is something called science.

It studies the natural world -- including the portion we call "humanity." Science is the best means known to man (and woman) for sorting out what's true about the universe, and what isn't.

Why, then, are so many believers in a personal God who created the universe so mistrustful of a discipline, science, whose aim is to reveal the nature of nature, God's creation?

I don't get it. Neither did Isaac Newton and many other scientists whose devout religious beliefs spurred them to study what some Christians have called God's second book, nature.

The second of God’s two revelations is the book of nature, termed “general revelation.” This is the implied record about our Creator that is discovered in the natural world around us. It is considered general in that it is a disclosure of reality that has been generally available to all people throughout the ages.

Now, I certainly don't agree that God's actions are reflected in the book of nature. However I have no problem with someone watching a beautiful sunset, or the full moon rise, and spontaneously uttering "Oh, my God!"

After all, if this is God's creation, then whatever makes us more aware and knowledgeable of what exists within existence must be revered as revealing divinity.

And that "whatever" happens to be science.

To better understand why this is so, have a listen to an interesting discussion between American atheist biologist (and avid blogger) PZ Myers and British theist evolutionist Denis Alexander. (Here's the mp3 link.)

What struck me about this interview, which was on a Christian radio station in Britain, was how refreshingly different Alexander was from the fundamentalist sorts of Christians who dominate the air waves in the United States.

I mean, a theist evolutionist -- that's terrific.

Alexander correctly saw no conflict between his religious beliefs and science. Neither did Myers, though as an atheist he also correctly kept emphasizing that religion can have zero, repeat zero, influence on scientific research.

Where I most agreed with Myers, and thought that Alexander was off the mark, was in the part of the discussion concerning the limits of science.

Scientists don't claim that art, music, morality, ethics, emotions, politics, culture, and such can be reduced to quantitative explanations. In these areas religion can play a role in human affairs (although I wish it wouldn't).

But Alexander kept trying to portray this as a weakness of science, whereas that is false. Myers kept bringing the discussion back to what the scientific method sets out to do: produce valid, reproducible, objective knowledge about the material universe.

To a religious believer in a personal creator God, this is one half of "God's book" (the other half being whatever holy text he or she believes in). Here science is unarguably King over religion, as Myers kept arguing -- and Alexander seemed to agree.

Even when I was a true believer, I was a devoted reader of science books and magazines. I didn't see any conflict between my metaphysical beliefs and what science knows about the material world.

Big bang. Evolution. DNA. Particle physics. Quantum mechanics. Relativity theory.

It shouldn't matter whether someone considers these phenomena and laws of nature to have come from God, or purely natural processes.

They're real, to the best of human knowledge. That's what counts. And reality is divine, whether you take this word in a secular or religious sense.