Church of the Churchless

Mindfulness or Mindlessness video -- good points about meditation

Thanks to a Tweet from David Chapman, I spent thirty minutes this morning watching a video of Robert Sharf talking about "Mindfulness or Mindlessness." 

Demonstrating my own approach to the subject, I paid some bills while concentrating as much as I could on what Sharf had to say.

Which was pretty darn interesting, albeit involving quite a few abstruse Buddhist terms.

You should watch the video yourself if you want to know exactly what he said. Below I'll share some recollections of his talk, along with my own take on the themes that resonated with me.

 

Don't assume spirituality or meditation equates to mentally healthy. Consider someone detached from the world and other people.

Doesn't feel strong emotions. Isn't upset by negative events or elated by positive ones. Looks upon physical reality as an illusion. Feels that truth is to be found elsewhere than everyday existence. Spends a lot of time alone, not moving, speaking, or thinking much.

Is this an enlightened being or a depressed person?

What if he/she also was disengaged from sexual activity? Does calling this state of consciousness "spiritual" make it mentally healthy? Sharf asks these sorts of questions, coming down on the side of being skeptical about world-denying meditative practices.

Pure awareness is at odds with traditional Buddhism. Mindfulness is a fairly recent notion, according to Sharf. Many Buddhists now believe there is some sort of sensory pure awareness which precedes conceptual and linguistic divisions. 

So I guess it's like this: instead of looking at Serena, the dog who has been part of my life for 14 years, and seeing a much beloved canine who I love and have many memories of, a supposedly more enlightened me would just see a moving mass of fur, bones, and such. 

Maybe I wouldn't even call this a "dog." Or know it is Serena.

As above, this strikes me as decidedly mentally unhealthy. Also, un-Buddhist'y. Doctrines of emptiness and dependent origination deny that anything, including consciousness or awareness, stands alone as an island unto itself.

Yet some mindfulness practices posit that seeing things "as they are," absent personal meaning or interpretations, is both possible and desirable. Not to Sharf, who looks upon that sort of mindfulness as mindless.

Mindfulness is being mindful of your own mind. Sharf speaks about how Zen warns against mental blankness -- doing nothing, feeling nothing, thinking nothing, while believing this is some special On the Road to Enlightenment state. 

Such seems to be related to Perennialism, the idea that an objectively true vision of ultimate reality always has been part of the human experience, albeit described in different ways by various cultures. That is, the vision is the same, while descriptions vary because it is beyond words.

Well, nothing is marked by sameness. So this could explain why Perennialism and various forms of "quietism" (including pure awareness) go together. 

Like Sharf, I've come to feel that when I'm mindful, what I'm aware of is my own mind, not objective reality. It isn't empty, but full. An empty mind is comatose. Which isn't a state of consciousness to be sought for. 

Here's how Sharf describes his talk: 

Buddhist scholars have shown that the form of “mindfulness meditation” (sometimes called satipatthāna or vipassanā meditation) that has become popular in the West is, at least in part, a relatively modern phenomenon; it can be traced to Burmese Buddhist reform movements that date to the first half of the twentieth century.

The features that made Burmese mindfulness practice—notably the form taught by Mahasi Sayadaw (1904-1982)—so attractive to a Western audience are precisely those features that rendered it controversial in the Buddhist world.

For example, Mahasi’s technique did not require familiarity with Buddhist doctrine (notably abhidhamma), did not require adherence to strict ethical norms (notably monasticism), and promised astonishingly quick results.

This was made possible through interpreting sati as a state of “bare awareness”—the unmediated, non-judgmental perception of things “as they are,” uninflected by prior psychological, social, or cultural conditioning.

This notion of mindfulness is at variance with premodern Buddhist epistemologies in several respects. Traditional Buddhist practices are oriented more toward acquiring “correct view” and proper ethical discernment, rather than “no view” and a non-judgmental attitude.

Indeed, the very notion of an unmediated mode of apperception is, in many traditional Buddhist systems, an oxymoron, at least with respect to anyone short of a Buddha. (Indeed, it is a point of contention even in the case of a Buddha.)

It is then not surprising that the forms of Burmese satipatthāna that established themselves in the West have been targets of intense criticism by rival Theravāda teachers in Sri Lanka and Southeast Asia.

This doesn’t mean that modern forms of “bare awareness” practice are without historical precursors. Both Tibetan Dzogchen and certain schools of Chinese Chan were, at least at first glance, similarly oriented toward inducing a mental state that was “pure,” “unconditioned,” “non-judgmental,” and so on.

Not surprisingly, these traditions were also subject to sharp criticism; they too were accused of heterodoxy—of promoting practices that contravened cardinal Buddhist principles and insights.

My paper will begin with the parallels between the teachings and practices of these three traditions, and suggest that some of these parallels can be explained by historical and sociological factors. I will then move on to the philosophical, psychological, ethical, and soteriological objections proffered by rival Buddhist schools.

It's possible to prove God does not exist

When faced with the lack of evidence of God's existence, one of the favorite retorts of religious people is, "Well, you can't prove that God doesn't exist."

I've been prone to argue back, the burden of proof is on the person making a claim that something exists. Or, it is impossible to prove a negative.

But these are rather simplistic responses. I've come to feel that a more nuanced reply should be, "Hell, yes, I can prove that God doesn't exist." 

Here's how it can be done.

Get some specifics from the God-believer. What are the characteristics of this God you consider to exist? What does this God do? Where does this God reside? How does someone know this God is present to them? 

After all, there are lots of supposed gods. Immaterial and material. Personal and impersonal. Eternal and timebound. 

It is indeed possible for me to prove that something does not exist if the entity is more than a vague abstraction. I can prove there isn't a full grown giraffe in my kitchen by looking everywhere an animal that size could hide without being seen.

Which, actually, is nowhere. 

If God is described with enough specificity, proof of God's non-existence becomes feasible. For example, if God is believed to regularly overturn the laws of nature, then regular evidence of these miracles should be evident. If such doesn't exist, then it can inferred that this sort of God doesn't either.

It also is important to remind the God-believer that 100% proof isn't possible. We're talking about probabilities when it comes to something being true, or untrue. 

After all, tomorrow it is possible the sun will disappear, all dogs will start talking in perfect English, or gravity will reverse itself. The fact that these events have a very low probability of happening makes us confident they won't exist tomorrow.

But someone could argue, "Well, you can't prove this." Of course not. We have to consider the reasons for believing they might occur, then judge how likely it is one of the events will happen.

It is fallacious to say that because something either exists or doesn't exist, there's a 50-50 chance of each. Lots of religious believers think this way, though. So reminding them about probabilities introduces a healthy dose of reality into a debate over whether God exists.

How sure are you that God exists? 90% sure? 20%? 1%? By contrast, how sure are you that electricity exists? 99.9%? What is the basis for whatever percentage of confidence you have?

Again, it isn't possible to say with 100% confidence that anything is true, or isn't true; exists, or doesn't exist.

We always can think of reasons to doubt any statement.

I could, for instance, resort to a "Matrix" sort of argument no matter what your claim is: Sure, it seems that electricity is real. But what if we actually are part of an alien computer simulation where the programmer has added an electromagnetism feature to the virtual world?

So considering specifics and probabilities go a long way toward proving that something either exists or doesn't exist.

At some point common sense rules. If there is no demonstrable evidence that something with characteristics X,Y,Z exists outside of a human mind that believes it is real, we say "it doesn't exist." Ditto if the evidence is so shaky and minimal, the probability of the thing's existence is exceedingly low.

Check out "You Can Prove a Negative."

Let's sum up. If "you can't prove a negative" means you can't prove beyond reasonable doubt that certain things don't exist, then the claim is just false. We prove the nonexistence of things on a regular basis. If, on the other hand, "you can't prove a negative" means you cannot prove beyond all possible doubt that something does not exist, well, that may, arguably, be true.

But so what? That point is irrelevant so far as defending beliefs in supernatural entities against the charge that science and/or reason have established beyond reasonable doubt that they don't exist.

Here's the Stephen Hales paper by the same name that inspired the above-linked Psychology Today piece.

The very nature of an inductive argument is to make a conclusion probable, but not certain, given the truth of the premises. That [is] just what an inductive argument is. We’d better not dismiss induction because we’re not getting certainty out of it, though. Why do you think that the sun will rise tomorrow? Not because of observation (you can’t observe the future!), but because that’s what it has always done in the past.

Why do you think that if you turn on the kitchen tap that water will come out instead of chocolate? Why do you think you’ll find your house where you last left it? Why do you think lunch will be nourishing instead of deadly? Again, because that’s the way things have always been in the past. In other words, we use inferences — induction — from past experiences in every aspect of our lives. 

...So why is it that people insist that you can’t prove a negative? I think it is the result of two things. (1) an acknowledgement that induction is not bulletproof, airtight, and infallible, and (2) a desperate desire to keep believing whatever one believes, even if all the evidence is against it.

That’s why people keep believing in alien abductions, even when flying saucers always turn out to be weather balloons, stealth jets, comets, or too much alcohol. You can’t prove a negative! You can’t prove that there are no alien abductions!

Meaning: your argument against aliens is inductive, therefore not incontrovertible, and since I want to believe in aliens, I’m going to dismiss the argument no matter how overwhelming the evidence against aliens, and no matter how vanishingly small the chance of extraterrestrial abduction.  

Wandering mind and focused mind: we need both

Driving home after a Tai Chi class tonight, I listened to part of an NPR interview with several psychologists. They talked about creativity, daydreaming, focused attention, the brain's default network.

Interesting stuff.

The basic notion being discussed was that the brain has several ways of functioning. These aren't exhaustive, of course. Scientists are nowhere close to understanding the intricacies of how the brain works.

But common sense is in line with what sometimes is called "experiential focus" and "narrative focus."

One of the psychologists said it is like what happens when we drive a familiar route. We don't need to concentrate on where we're going and how the car is moving, because we've done it so many times before. Experiential focus is downplayed.

This frees the brain/mind to engage in narrative focus.

We muse about this and that; daydream; remember the past and imagine the future; create meanings; consider alternative ways our life might unfold; meander down unpredictable thought pathways. It is only if a child runs into the road, the driver ahead of us abruptly hits his brakes, or whatever, that we are quickly brought back into here and now sensory/doing reality.

In some previous posts I've been unduly, um, focused on the benefits of experiential focus -- attending to what is right of front of us. See here and here.

However, I've also blogged about how "pure awareness" is at odds with what is known about the brain's default network and narrative focus. 

Well, I guess it's still possible to believe in "pure awareness."

But whatever pure awareness is -- and again, I'm kind of vague about this -- this notion needs to be compatible with an emerging neuroscientific world view if it is to make sense to me.

The mind/brain filters unadorned reality markedly before perceptions become conscious. All the while, unconscious mental systems are churning away unrecognized, apparently laying the groundwork for interpreting those heavily filtered perceptions based on past experience and for taking action in response to some event.

How "pure awareness" enters into all this is a very open question. It sure looks like modern neuroscience is challenging some of the fundamental assumptions of spiritual belief systems.

This doesn't negate the benefits of meditation, mindfulness, and non-judgmental awareness of the present moment.

To my mind (the only one I have), research such as I learned about in the Scientific American article simply helps us look upon meditative and contemplative practices realistically rather than idealistically.

Listening to the NPR program today, I came away with a more balanced understanding of why both unfocused daydreaming and focused attention are vital aspects of human experience. 

We are meaning-making creatures. Our largely free-floating narrative focus is a creative source. It enables us to visualize fresh ideas, new directions, unexpected insights. 

When I was deep into my meditative spiritual practice, I used to worry about my mind wandering. Back then I repeated a mantra as much as possible. What I was taught was that if we aren't focused on doing or thinking about something, we should stop the mind from wandering.

This now strikes me as unnatural, unproductive, and undesirable. Research described by the psychologists shows that what the brain is doing when it isn't focused on something specific is vital to our mental health. 

Daydreaming is somewhat akin to the dreaming we do while asleep.

During this time the brain makes sense of events; finds meaning in experiences; organizes isolated sensory impressions into cognitive clusters; comes up with unconscious solutions to problems our conscious self is perplexed by.

It's difficult to believe that what the brain does naturally, the product of so many eons of evolution, is somehow counterproductive to human functioning. Yet many spiritual practices look upon the "monkey mind" as almost (if not actually) something evil.

We're supposed to be the rider of the mental elephant, the driver of the mental chariot. The mind is only to do what we tell it to do -- a decidedly unscientific notion. There is a time for focused attention, and there is a time for daydreaming, mind wandering, relaxed musings about this, that, whatever.

Here's a You Tube video about the default network. (Sound quality isn't great at times; still worth watching.)

 

 

Attachment and detachment are equally good

I'm not big on the whole detachment thing. Strikes me as horribly unnatural. Why should we give up attachments, desires, cravings, longings?

Than again, why shouldn't we?

If someone feels like being attached to someone or something, great. Go for it, dude or dudette. If someone feels like detaching from someone or something, also great. Let loose, let go.

There's no problem in wanting and not-wanting, clinging and releasing. Each of us does this countless times a day. 

I just had a desire for a sip of coffee. I attached my fingers to the handle of my cup. I lifted the cup to my lips. Then set it down, loosened my grip, and went back to typing on my laptop.

Yet in many spiritual circles there's an attitude of attachment bad, detachment good.

Of course, people who think that way are attached to that notion. So I guess what they really mean is, some attachments are bad, and some attachments are good.

Can't argue with that. It all depends. Not on some Holy Cosmic Truth. On common sense and what works for us. 

I hold onto a t-shirt until I feel like banishing it to the rag drawer, adding it to our Goodwill donation box, or giving it to a friend who often adopts t-shirts that I've grown tired of. But when I like a t-shirt, I'm bothered if something happens to it -- stain, rip, whatever.

Now, I realize that Buddhism and other attachment-phobic ways of looking at the world view clinging as the big problem. 

There is nothing wrong with desires and relationships as long as one does not cling. I can truly enjoy a movie or a restaurant as long as I do not cling to them. I can have a meaningful and happy relationship with my wife as long as I work with her to mediate the tendency to either pursue (i.e. criticizing, complaining, endless questioning, etc.) or withdraw (getting defensive, checking out, shutting down, avoiding, etc.) during conflict. Both pursuing and withdrawing are clinging. Both are suffering.

Huh? Pursuing and withdrawing are suffering? When I see a new Crazy Shirts t-shirt design and pursue it with my VISA card, then eventually withdraw it from my t-shirt collection, where is the suffering in this? 

What I feel is satisfaction. I get something enjoyable; then I let it go and pursue something else. 

Methinks Buddhism and like-minded philosophies are too extreme, too ascetic, too (dare I say it?) attached to a view of human nature that is decidedly unnatural. Also, unscientific.

Most of what goes on in my brain, as in yours, is unconscious. We aren't nearly as much in control of seemingly conscious decisions as we think we are.

Thus while it is possible to engage in disciplines like meditation that seemingly have some effect on our ability to be detached from objects of desire/clinging, I doubt that much is happening other than, so to speak, exchanging one metaphorical t-shirt for another.

Yay, me! Ooh, I'm so enlightened! 

Before I was attached to women, wine, and websurfing; now I'm attached to meditation, mysticism, and masters (Zen or otherwise). I'm still clinging, just to different stuff. The only way to be genuinely detached from desires is to be dead.

From my unlofty 65 year-old viewpoint, I can look down, or up, or sideways upon my life and observe...

Much of the time I've taken myself way too seriously. I've agonized over whether this-or-that was right or wrong, good or bad, desirable or undesirable. I've examined my shortcomings and tallcomings as if (1) I could identify which was which, and (2) I actually could do something about them.

When I've felt happiest and most productive, I wasn't trying to be anything other that what I was: simply me, doing whatever seemed worth doing at the moment. Detachment and attachment? Irrelevant. 

Scientific faith is way different from religious faith

Here's an interesting look at faith: "No Faith in Science -- why the Higgs boson is not like a sea of milk that sustains the gods."

Just because a scientifically minded person uses the word, faith, doesn't mean it is being used in the same sense as religious faith. 

I have faith that global warming is happening, because the evidence in support of this conclusion is clear, convincing, and attested to by almost all of the world's climate scientists. 

I don't have faith that Jesus saves, because this is a belief with zero demonstrable evidence backing it up. 

The Slate article is well worth reading. Here's how it starts out. 

A common tactic of those who claim that science and religion are compatible is to argue that science, like religion, rests on faith: faith in the accuracy of what we observe, in the laws of nature, or in the value of reason.

Daniel Sarewitz, director of a science policy center at Arizona State University and an occasional Slate contributor, wrote this about the Higgs boson in the pages of Nature, one of the world’s most prestigious science journals: “For those who cannot follow the mathematics, belief in the Higgs is an act of faith, not of rationality.”

Such statements imply that science and religion are not that different because both seek the truth and use faith to find it. Indeed, science is often described as a kind of religion.

But that’s wrong, for the “faith” we have in science is completely different from the faith believers have in God and the dogmas of their creed. To see this, consider the following four statements:

“I have faith that, because I accept Jesus as my personal savior, I will join my friends and family in Heaven.”

“My faith tells me that the Messiah has not yet come, but will someday.”

“I have strep throat, but I have faith that this penicillin will clear it up.”

“I have faith that when I martyr myself for Allah, I will receive 72 virgins in Paradise.”

All of these use the word faith, but one uses it differently. The three religious claims (Christian, Jewish, and Muslim, respectively) represent faith as defined by philosopher Walter Kaufmann: “intense, usually confident, belief that is not based on evidence sufficient to command assent from every reasonable person.”

Indeed, there is no evidence beyond revelation, authority, and scripture to support the religious claims above, and most of the world’s believers would reject at least one of them. To state it bluntly, such faith involves pretending to know things you don’t. Behind it is wish-thinking, as clearly expressed in Hebrews 11:1: “Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.”

In contrast, the third statement relies on evidence: penicillin almost invariably kills streptococcus bacteria. In such cases the word faith doesn’t mean “belief without good evidence,” but “confidence derived from scientific tests and repeated, documented experience.”

You have faith (i.e., confidence) that the sun will rise tomorrow because it always has, and there’s no evidence that the Earth has stopped rotating or the sun has burnt out. You have faith in your doctor because, presumably, she has treated you and others successfully, and you know that what she prescribes is tested scientifically. You wouldn’t go to a shaman or a spiritual healer for strep throat—unless you want to waste your money.

Buddhism shows its extremist side: threatening tranquility

Damn those Buddhists! I knew they were up to no good. Had to be some malevolent plotting going on behind those serene smiles. 

The Onion has revealed the truth in "Buddhist Extremist Cell Vows to Unleash Tranquility on West." 

WASHINGTON—In a 45-minute video posted on Tibetan websites Thursday, Tsuglag Rinpoche, leader of the Buddhist extremist group Kammaṭṭhāna, threatened to soon inflict a wave of peace and tranquility on the West.

Speaking in front of a nondescript altar surrounded by candles, burning sticks of incense, and a small golden statue of the Buddha, Rinpoche did not specify when or where an assault of profound inner stillness would occur, but stated in no uncertain terms that the fundamentalist Buddhist cell plans to target all Western suffering.

“In the name of the Great Teacher, we will stop at nothing to unleash a firestorm of empathy, compassion, and true selflessness upon the West,” said Rinpoche, adding that all enemies of a freely flowing, unfettered state of mind will be “besieged with pure, everlasting happiness.” “No city will be spared from spiritual harmony. We will bring about the end to all Western pain and anxiety, to all destructive cravings, to all greed, delusion, and misplaced desire. Indeed, we will bring the entire United States to its knees in deep meditation.”

“Wisdom and virtue to America!” continued Rinpoche. “Wisdom and virtue to all living things on earth!”

Won't happen. Can't happen. We will resist.

I figure out the Meaning of It All

Here it is... the capstone of 65 years of living, my grand theory of meaningfulness, the key to a satisfying life, all of philosophy and science encapsulated in a few pithy sentences. 

(Plus, I readily admit, convincing proof of my delusional grandiosity.)

This is where everything goes wrong, and where everything goes right: keeping our personal subjective interior in relationship with the world's objective exterior.

The key is figuring out that relationship. I assume that such exists. There are indeed two aspects to our living. Subjective and objective. 

I realize many would disagree.

Those strongly inclined toward idealism see everything as residing within each human consciousness. Those strongly inclined toward materialism see everything as residing within constructs of physical matter/energy.

I've leaned in both of those directions myself at different times of my life. I understand their appeal. But my Meaning of It All, v. Nov. 2013, is based on a blend of subjective and objective, personal and universal, consciousness and matter.

The most private place in existence is the inside of my own head. No one but me has access to it. I am the only one who knows what it is like to be me. It is impossible to give anyone else even the most minute glimpse of my inner world. 

Yet we all try. In various ways.

Words, gestures, art, music, dance, the whole gamut of human expression. Which, in the end, fails to bridge the gap between our subjective experience of reality and the reality that exists outside experience.

For there is indeed an objective side to life. Does the moon exist when no one is looking at it? Oh, yes, it does, notwithstanding some quantum theorists who hold that the world is brought into being by observation. 

I take a common sense approach here.

The world preceded me; the world will continue when I am gone. Ditto for humanity as a whole. Ditto for life as a whole. I accept that 14 billion years ago the universe big-banged into being, and existed without living entities for a very long time.

So this strikes me as obvious: there is our subjective experience, and there is objective existence. Never the twain shall meet -- though the twain always relate. Each of us is engaged in a never-ending dance with the world. 

We embrace it; it embraces us. We and it always remain separate, yet are unfailingly connected.

A meaningful life is founded on this: realizing how subjective me and objective world relate. When I confuse inner and outer, personal and universal, subjective and objective... confusion, disappointment, conflict.

Often, if not usually, we screw things up. We get reality completely backward. We look upon our subjective consciousness, our personal experience of the world, as being the Way Things Really Are. 

Wrong.

This is just the way things are for us. How it is inside the utterly private realm of our own minds. When I feel anger at the driver who almost hit me on the freeway, that emotion exists nowhere outside my own psyche. 

Ditto for everything else that I experience within my consciousness. Seeing, hearing, tasting, feeling, smelling, thinking, intuiting, marveling, questioning, realizing, understanding: each and every "...ing" is purely mine, no one else's.

Not so for the world. This belongs to all.

Our dogs inhabit the same house my wife and I do. They walk on the same rugs, pass through the same doors, and eat food in the same kitchen as we do. Naturally our dogs subjectively experience these things differently, but there is no difference in the objective world being experienced.

Unfortunately, people often fail to realize this. Which includes me, though not to the same extent as religious crazies and science deniers. 

Who flip around the proper relation of subjective and objective.

They take their subjective beliefs as being objectively true, while looking upon objective truths as being subjective beliefs. Thus evolution, global warming, and other verified knowledge about the outside world is denigrated, while personal interior views of reality are exalted as universal verities.

Again, backwards. Horribly backwards.

It is dangerous, both for the individual and for society, to screw up the proper relationship between subjective and objective reality. That this happens so often is a warning sign: Homo sapiens may be a species which has attained a state of consciousness that threatens the ability of humanity to thrive, if not survive.

Other animals realize that they are not the world.

When they fail to respect objective reality, they suffer the consequences. Death, injury, distress. Bad things happen when a living being doesn't know that the world outside of its consciousness possesses a reality unto itself.

Thinking doesn't make it so. Believing doesn't make it so. Faith doesn't make it so.

A coyote or rabbit is much more wise in this regard than humans. "Dumb" animals are smarter than a person who imagines they can create their own reality. 

Or be saved by a God that only exists within their own minds. 

I am. But only to myself. The world also is. For everybody and everything. Simple truths. Yet not easy to genuinely comprehend. 

Two good comments about faith and guru games

Here's a couple of comments on Church of the Churchless posts that I particularly enjoyed today. Understand, I like all the comments people leave here, even the ones I disagree with.

Dialogue, discussion, debate -- that's what this blog is about. (Religious people would add another "D" word,  damnation.)

But some comments strike me in a special way, making me think, ah!, nicely said. This one is from Gene:

"...remove the foundation of faith that supports their religiosity."

The foundation of faith is the 'meaning' one finds from their very own life experiences. The only way to remove this would be to end their life - something I would be against, because I have no religious faith nor rabid insanity to justify such an action.

What we experience in life is 'meaning'. We experience the meaning of life events, relationships, the physical world. We experience the meaning of the setting sun melting onto the horizon.

This meaning comes from our beliefs and values - not the physical, external world (external to ourselves). And this meaning, thought to be coming from the physical, external world, creates the illusion that our beliefs and values are real, true, and absolute.

A Christian man watches the setting sun melt onto the horizon and he experiences the awesomeness of his Christian Gods' handiwork. A Muslim man watches the same setting sun and he experiences the majesty of Allah. An atheist sees the same setting sun and is awe inspired by the incredible workings of our physical universe and the process of evolution among life forms.

All three men are NOT experiencing the setting sun. They are experiencing the meaning of the setting sun. And that meaning comes from their beliefs and values.

1. This is why religious beliefs can be so contradictory, convoluted, nonsensical, and even absurd.

2. This is why people of religious faith are able to justify, rationalize, minimize, and even deny what to others, who have no similar beliefs, is obvious.

3. And this is why beliefs are real, true, and absolute to the believer. Does God exist? Yes - within the mind of the believer. Does Santa Clause exist? Yes - within the mind of the child who believes in Santa Clause.

Whether it is a religious person, an abject racist, or a child who believes in Santa Clause, our beliefs appear real to us because we experience meaning in our lives that we think comes from the physical, external world (external to ourselves), but is actually coming from our beliefs.

In addition to this illusion that the meaning of life's events comes from the physical, external world, religious believers also find tangible benefits to their religious beliefs, such as a sense of community, belonging, purpose, validity, uniqueness, etc.

How do you cure an addiction to faith?

You can pray for the believer, light a candle, or sprinkle some holy water on your cat? These would be just as ineffective as using logic, reason, or pounding them over the head with facts.

God will cease to exist for a particular person when that person no longer has beliefs that such a god exists - exactly the same way that Santa Clause ceased to exist for many of us.

Help a religious person to see that the meaning they are experiencing in life is coming from their beliefs, and not the physical, external world, and the foundation holding up their god will begin to crumble.

And this one is from Sukhbir Singh. "Satsangs," for those unfamiliar with the term, are spiritual talks. "Sach Khand" basically is heaven. "Satpurush" is God.

HANDBOOK FOR THE NEW SATGURU (SUPREME TEACHER) OF THE RSSB (RADHA SOAMI SATSANG BEAS).

In my inner journeys up to Sach Khand, I happened upon a library. I decided there was still an eternity left to go and worship Satpurush so I went to look at the books in that library. I came across a pamphlet. It was called THE HANDBOOK FOR THE NEW SATGURU.

HERE are some tips for the aspiring Sant Satguru from the pamphlet:

1. Use all existing sources (scriptures, books, etc) to cement the belief that God comes in human form. If they believe this, you've got them by the balls and can do anything.

Once by believe CLAUSE 1, you move on to the next clause.

2. Play the "Heads, I win. Tails you lose." Game. In this situation, since you are "GOD IN HUMAN FORM", you are perfect. Therefore any errors are due to the incomplete, imperfect human beings. Any good things that may happen to them are then attributed to the Mercy, Grace, Daya, of the Master.

When sufficient guilt and slave mentality has been achieved by playing the game in CLAUSE 2, you can move to CLAUSE 3.

3. Do whatever the hell you want. Why? Because your ass is covered by CLAUSE 1 AND CLAUSE 2.

Enjoy your Satguru-hood.

And Remember,

DON'T LET YOUR AUDIO SATSANGS BE RECORDED BECAUSE THERE IS A LOT OF SHIT YOU'LL HAVE TO CONTRADICT LATER. THE POINT IS TO KEEP THE PEOPLE CONFUSED AND IF THEY HAVE EVIDENCE TO IMPLICATE YOU, THEY MIGHT SUSPECT CLAUSE 1 AND 2.

Cheers.

Then I came out of my meditation, drank my beer, ate my burger, and smiled my ass off.

December visits to the RSSB Dera cancelled. Anyone know why?

Today I got an email message from someone in South Africa who said that the Radha Soami Satsang Beas group there has heard that December visits with "Babaji," a.k.a. Gurinder Singh Dhillon (current guru) at the Dera in the Punjab have been cancelled.

First time ever, said this person, who asked if I knew anything about this. I don't.

Since quite a few people who are still involved with RSSB visit this blog, I figured I'd share the information/question and see if anyone else knows what is going on.

How to cure an addiction to faith

In his book "A Manual for Creating Atheists," Peter Boghossian has some advice for those who want to helo cure religious addicts: don't focus on weaning them off of religion; rather, remove the foundation of faith that supports their religiosity.

Makes sense. 

Attacks on religion are often peceived as attacks on friends, families, communities, and relationships. As such, attacking religion may alienate people, making it even more difficult to separate them from their faith.

...Attempting to disabuse people of a belief in their God(s) is the wrong way to conceptualize the problem. God is the conclusion that one arrives at as a result of a faulty reasoning process (and also social and cultural pressures). 

The faulty reasoning process -- the problem -- is faith.

Positing make-believe metaphysical entities is a consequence of a deeper epistemological problem. Belief in God(s) is not the problem.

Belief without evidence is the problem. Warrantless, dogged confidence is the problem. Epistemological arrogance masquerading as humility is the problem. Faith is the problem.

...In other words, focus on undermining one's confidence in how one claims to know what one knows (epistemology) as opposed to what one believes exists (metaphysics/God).

Instead of having a discussion about the actual existence of metaphysical entities that can neither be proven nor disproven, direct the discussion to to how one knows that these alleged entities exist. (This may also avoid one of the most common retorts among uneducated, unsophisticated believers, "You can't prove it not to be true."

As noted in this post, Boghossian aptly describes faith as pretending to know things you don't know. Which isn't a virtue. But neither is it a vice. I like how Bogossian says we should divorce belief from morality. 

Faith is an epistemological error, a problem in knowing what is true. Thus it stands outside of the realm of morality, notwithstanding the contention of religious people that having faith is a virtue. So, says Boghossian," having faith doesn't make one moral, and lacking faith doesn't make one immoral."

He gives examples of well-known atheists who most would consider moral: "Bill Gates (for donating his vast fortune to charity) and Specialist Pat TIllman (for abandoning an incredibly promising football career to give his life for his country)."

Here's the shortcuts Boghossian says he uses when he doesn't have time for a full Socratic discussion with a faithful religious believer. 

First, I'll ask "How could your belief [in X] be wrong? I don't make a statement about a subject's beliefs being incorrect; instead, I ask the subject what conditions would have to be in place for her belief to be false.

...Second, I'll ask, "How would you differentiate your belief from a delusion? We have unshakable testimony of countless people who feel in their heart that the Emperor of Japan is divine, or that Muhammad's revelations in the Koran are true. How do you know you're not delusional?"

...Simply causing one to recognize that their core beliefs could be delusions may help them recognize the delusions.

Atheism is the rejection of theism, not a belief system

Here's a follow-up to my "Atheism isn't a belief. It is a lack of belief." That post had quotes from James Lindsay's second book. 

The passages below are from Lindsay's first book, God Doesn't, We Do. Once again, he persuasively challenges the false assumption that theism, believing in God, and atheism, not believing in God, are somehow both belief systems.

Doesn't make sense. Read on to see why.

Another common misconception among believers is that infidels, atheists in particular, subscribe to a religious view that is called Atheism. This is incorrect, generally speaking.

We might be able to call (capitalized) Atheism a quasi-religion in that it lacks a Supreme Being -- indeed it categorically denies the existence of any such thing. Quasi-religions of varying sorts could be built beginning with a categorical denial of deities, for example by equipping that denial with ideas from Buddhism, Taoism, the Jedi of Star Wars, or many New Age belief systems.

States could also create them. Maoism, particularly, could easily have become such a religion. Importantly, though, this position is rarely held. This is because it is the difficulty with claiming an unknowable philosophical position with certainty that pushes people away from theistic belief.

While Atheism is an ideological position without a completely firm philosophical basis, (lowercase) atheism is just the denial or rejection of theism, the belief in a god or gods, and its philosophical, moral, and intellectual base is substantial.

Lowercase atheism is not a religion or even an ideology.

...Since atheism is a position free of dogma, those that have denied religion are free to think about the world how they will, often earning them the title of freethinker. Without religion, many turn to or seek a scientific understanding of the world, frankly because it works quite successfully, though excitingly incompletely, at explaining what is.

Even in this worthwhile endeavor, though, there is no requirement. Atheism, quite opposite religion, and in some ways to its detriment (politically, for example) requires and thus has no unifying creed, doctrine, dogma, or agenda.

It is just an unfortunate title for people that do not believe in supernatural gods, and it is a title that should be every bit as unnecessary as a-Santa-ist or a-faerie-ist.

What are the odds of alien civilizations believing in our gods?

Astonomers have come up with an estimate of how many earth-like planets there are in our galaxy: some 40 billion. Wow. 

The known odds of something — or someone — living far, far away from Earth improved beyond astronomers’ boldest dreams on Monday.

Astronomers reported that there could be as many as 40 billion habitable Earth-size planets in the galaxy, based on a new analysis of data from NASA’s Kepler spacecraft.

One out of every five sunlike stars in the galaxy has a planet the size of Earth circling it in the Goldilocks zone — not too hot, not too cold — where surface temperatures should be compatible with liquid water, according to a herculean three-year calculation based on data from the Kepler spacecraft by Erik Petigura, a graduate student at the University of California, Berkeley.

So it sure seems like life must be common in the cosmos.

After all, the Milky Way galaxy is only one of at least a hundred billion galaxies in the universe. Multiply billions of habitable planets in each galaxy by those billions of galaxies and you've got a really large number. 

It's difficult to imagine what communicating with members of an alien civilization would be like.

Difficult, at best. Maybe impossible. Science fiction books and movies tend to assume that alien consciousness is close enough to ours to allow for mutual understanding (or, of course, misunderstanding; but at least some sort of communication).

If we humans and inhabitants of another planet far, far away have anything in common, likely it would be scientific knowledge. 

The laws of nature appear to be the same throughout the universe. The Homo sapiens brain undoubtedly has its own unique way of comprehending and describing these laws. However, almost certainly we and aliens would have learned similar facts about gravity, electromagnetism, chemical reactions, and such.

Their way of practicing chemistry/physics/biology and ours might be very different from ours. Yet the substance of the truths revealed by scientific endeavors separated by many light years probably would be quite similar.

Way more similar than religious beliefs -- assuming other life forms even subscribe to such superstitions. The probability of an alien civilization having anything akin to Christianity, Islam, HInduism, or whatever seems exceedingly low.

Demonstrable evidence of any supernatural side to the cosmos is very minimal, if not nonexistent.

Thus human religions almost certainly are cultural creations. What are the odds of aliens not only having a brain/mind that functions similarly to ours, but also a culture that supports the sort of religiosity prevalent her on Earth?

Could Jesus have died on the cross to redeem sinners in any other of those 40 billion habitable planets? I doubt it. Ditto with the fables/myths of other religions. If religiosity exists elsewhere in the galaxy, I suspect the forms it takes would be unrecognizable to us.

Whereas the science of alien beings probably wouldn't be. Food for thought, for truth-seekers.  

Atheism isn't a belief. It is a lack of belief.

I don't listen to country music. I don't like country music. I don't believe country music is worth listening to. So does this make me an "acountrymusicist"? 

That is, someone who holds to a belief that country music sucks. No, I just don't like it.

I pay very little attention to it, noticing this musical genre only when it is is foisted unwillingly on me by a radio station, TV show, or store. 

Likewise, I don't consider myself an "asoccerfan." I just am not much interested in soccer. Same goes for religion. So why should I be called an "atheist" if I don't believe in theism?

Mostly because theism is so widespread. Almost everybody in the world believes in some form of supernatural entity, whether this "God" is personal or impersonal.

On James Lindsay's "God Doesn't, We Do" blog (title of his first book), Lindsay cogently speaks about atheism being the absence, not the presence, of a belief. 

Christianity, a theistic religion, and atheism simply are not on a level. Christianity is a thing. Atheism is an absence of a kind of thing, namely belief in God(s).

People are labeled "atheists" only as a sad consequence of the fact that until very recently, belief in God was taken to be essentially expected, making atheists relatively rare and obvious in that they buck a widespread norm.

By analogy, I suppose, if we had a culture in which nearly everyone from birth is taught to play golf as a social and cultural imperative, we might have a word for those rare individuals who end up not playing golf. As it stands, we have no such word, and we need no such word.

Such a word may not even be needed. For example, by what term do we call people who do not watch television? Television non-viewers? Atelevisionists? I am one of them, so I know they exist, and I know we're quite rare and bucking a societal norm. The same is true of "atheism," at least in principle.

Now, as an aside, I should illustrate how this misconception is getting legs under it because that's its own problem. I'm noticing more and more that people are misidentifying atheism as a thing, and it is not just those religious believers who seem unable to conceive of a lack of religious belief.

Instead, people who self-identify as atheists are frequently confusing this matter for themselves too. This confusion gives arguments like Evans' an undeserved veneer of potency, so I would implore people to try to be more cautious in this regard.

Indeed, I am more and more often hearing people talk about "atheism" as if it is a thing one can join. Furthermore, they talk about it as if it is something that can be done well or poorly!

Perhaps, as someone who has played a round of golf only once in his life, this is a bit like how I've very nearly perfected my not-playing-golf game? Maybe it's like how picking up a good book helps improve my television non-viewing?

...To close this aside, then, here is a warning to people who do not believe in Gods: by identifying "atheism" as a thing that can be joined, can be done, or can be gotten better at, and by founding "atheist communities," those involved are providing credence to the notion that atheism is a thing--a thing rather like Christianity, in fact. Take heed of this.

Faith is pretending to know things you don't know

To most people, faith is a positive quality. Perhaps it is, if "faith" is construed as "hope" or "positive thinking." As in, I have faith that I'll be able to make it to the top of this mountain. 

You don't know if you'll be able to reach the summit, but you hope that you will. Nothing wrong with this.

Somewhat similarly, faith can be viewed in probabilistic terms. I have faith that my laptop will start up when I raise the lid in the morning, because so far it has every time I've done this.

But in his book, "A Manual for Creating Atheists," Peter Boghossian defines faith in a fashion that is how religions and other supernatural belief systems use the word.

faith
Pretending to know things you don't know

Ooh! Doesn't sound very positive, does it?

Faith is a deception, a disguise, an effort to fool other people (and yourself). For example, someone who has faith that God exists really is saying, "I'm pretending to know that God exists." Thus faith is a lot like a child pretending to be a princess when she really is just a non-royal four year old in her bedroom. 

There's nothing wrong with pretending. Children can get so caught up in their role-playing that it seems real to them. However, when adults do this in the name of their religion it isn't so cute or harmless.

I liked how Boghossian has a table where he has expressions using the word "faith" in one column, and the same expressions with a substituted "pretending to know things you don't know" in another column. 

This is a good way of pointing out how problematic faith is. Better to be truthful and honest with yourself and other people. Here's some examples:

"My faith is beneficial for me."
"Pretending to know things I don't know is beneficial for me."

"I have faith in God."
"I pretend to know things I don't know about God."

"Life has no meaning without faith."
"Life has no meaning if I stop pretending to know things I don't know."

"My faith is true for me."
"Pretending to know things I don't know is true for me."

"Why should people stop having faith if it helps them get through the day?"
"Why should people stop pretending to know things they don't know if it helps them get through the day?"

"Teach your children to have faith."
"Teach your children to pretend to know things they don't know."

Here's how Boghossian addresses the faith vs. hope/etc. question. 

The term "faith," as the faithful use it in religious contexts, needs to be disambiguated from words such as "promise," "confidence,", "trust," and, especially "hope."

"Promise," "confidence," "trust," and "hope" are not knowledge claims. One can hope for something or place one's trust in anyone or anything. This is not the same as claiming to know something. To hope for something admits there's a possibility that what you want may not be realized.

For example, if you hope your stock will rise tomorrow, you are not claiming to know your stock will rise; you want your stock to rise, but you recognize there's a possibility it may not. Desire is not certainty but the wish for an outcome.

Hope is not the same as faith. Hoping is not the same as knowing. If you hope something happened you're not claiming it did happen. When the faithful say, "Jesus walked on water," they are not saying they hope Jesus walked on water, but rather are claiming Jesus actually did walk on water.

...Much of the confusion about faith-based claims comes from mistaking objective claims with subjective claims. Knowledge claims purport to be objective because they assert a truth about the world. 

Subjective claims are not knowledge claims and do not assert a truth about the world; rather, they are statements about one's own unique, situated, subjective, personal experiences or preferences.

...Faith claims are knowledge claims. Faith claims are statements of fact about the world. 

...The only way to figure out which claims about the world are likely true, and which are likely false, is through reason and evidence. There is no other way.

Wisdom is humility in the face of mystery

The title of this post is a sub-heading in the final chapter of Robert Burton's "A Skeptic's Guide to the Mind: What Neuroscience Can and Cannot Tell Us About Ourselves." 

Burton cautions against taking neuroscientific claims about how the human brain/mind works too seriously when they aren't backed up by solid evidence. Yet even when they are, he reminds us that our interpretation of evidence is guided by processes in the very brain/mind we're trying to understand.

Naturally this applies to religious, mystical, spiritual, and philosophical claims equally, if not more so. Just because we feel like we can stand outside of our own mind and look upon ourselves objectively doesn't mean this is possible.

Burton writes:

When reading any neuroscientific claim about the mind, remember:

• All thoughts about and studies of the mind are guided by involuntary brain mechanisms that collectively generate an illusory sense of a personal, unique self capable of willful, unbiased exploration of how a brain creates a mind.

• Taking into consideration how these involuntary mental states create our sense of a mind is a necessary first step to any real, albeit partial, understanding of what a mind might be.

• Failure to acknowledge the biologically imposed limits on a mind examining itself will only result in further neuroscientific excesses.

What he is saying is simple, but difficult to take to heart. Intellectually we can realize that our own mind is conditioned to look upon reality in certain ways, ways that are beyond our ability to control. 

However, that realization doesn't change how we experience reality. For example, the Müller-Lyer illusion fools us into believing that the lines are different lengths. But actually they are the same length.

Yet even after you study the bottom set of lines and realize they are all the same length, when you look again at the top set of lines they will still appear to be different lengths. 

Accurate conceptual knowledge doesn't affect inaccurate experiential perception. Here's how Burton describes the situation.

If I were asked to distill this book into a single message, I would say that all of us -- neuroscientists, cognitive scientists, psychologists, philosophers, and lay readers -- should be constantly aware of the essential paradox that drives all investigations of the mind. 

The mind exists in two different dimensions -- as felt experience and as abstract concept. The unavoidable takeaway is that a constellation of involuntary mental sensations play a critical role in how we think about what a mind "is" and "does."

It is the human condition to experience a largely involuntarily generated mind that feels quite strongly that it can rationally explain itself. This paradox is unavoidable and not amenable to better science or new technologies.

Though we can and should work hard to refine our thoughts, there will always be limits. Ironically, even if there were to be an absolute last word on the nature of the mind, we wouldn't recognize it unless we all thought the same way -- and that's a physiological impossibility. 

...Not one of us, not the smartest or cleverest or most profound neuroscientist, philosopher, or observer of mankind, has the final word.

Each of us is weaving stories, not uncovering absolute truths. The mind is and will always be a mystery. For the neuroscientist, a humble acknowledgement of the limits of inquiry should be the first step in the study of the mind.

Again, not just for neuroscientists. For everybody.

Especially religious believers who wrongly believe that their beliefs reflect objective reality, rather than how their mind experiences things.

Here's how Burton ends his book.

The operating credo of neuroscience should be a rigorous adherence to scientific method coupled with the recognition that the study of the mind is a data-based art form, not another branch of the basic sciences.

Humility, reverence, and respect for the unknowable should be the default mind-set when contemplating great mystery, and there is nothing more mysterious than a mind contemplating itself.

Stop talking to God... and other imaginary friends

I've decided that I talk too much.

Not to other people. I do that just fine, in my opinion. Not too much, and not too little. Just about right. It's another type of talking I'm referring to.

Talking to entities that aren't there, or can't understand me. For example...

God. Our dogs. My dead mother and father. The now-deceased guru I used to follow. Myself. 

Now, I don't really believe that any of these entities can comprehend what I'm saying, either because they don't exist (God, dead mother and father, guru) or don't have the ability (dogs).

Myself is an interesting unique situation. I do believe that I exist, but I don't believe that I have a self which is different from me. Or my mind/brain. 

So it's entirely mystifying that I talk to myself, both verbally and silently inside my head, when it sure seems that I and myself are the same entity. 

Given this seeming fact -- and the notion that even if we aren't exactly the same, I and myself are so closely linked we're essentially one being -- I have no idea why I need to tell myself anything.

But I do. Out of habit. And because I enjoy doing this.

Which also explains why I talk to a God that I don't believe exists, and a mother and father who are dead and gone. I guess I like the feeling that I can communicate with them, even though I know this is a fantasy. 

Increasingly, though, I'm feeling something else: silence is precious. 

It puts me more in touch with reality. Especially when there isn't anyone around who I can actually talk with. Imaginary friends may be OK for children. But at my age, they are a distraction from what is real.

On today's sunset dog walk, I avoided saying anything to our two canines, Serena and Zuzu. The three of us walked along silently, except for one time when I had to whistle for Zuzu and call her name. 

Dogs, of course, don't talk to each other. Our dogs rarely make sounds. Barking and whining is rare. Nonverbal communication is how Serena and Zuzu usually relate. I felt closer to them doing the same.

I also felt closer to nature. Being quieter inside my head tuned me in more to the world outside my head.

This being early November, geese were arriving at the community lake near our house, coming from a wildlife refuge where they feed during the day. Honking could be heard from various parts of the sky as geese groups flew over in their characteristic "V" shape.

Then more honking, after the geese settled down on the lake for the night. Sometimes they fly off when the dogs and I walk by on the lakeside path. Today they didn't. Maybe my silence changed things. 

Regardless, it changed me.

I didn't stop thinking as I walked along, but my mental chatter was more focused. I thought about how ridiculous, albeit human, it is to engage in a one-sided conversation with imaginary entities.

So I said "goodbye" to them.

Can't tell whether this is a permanent farewell. Right now it feels like it is. I told my mother and father that naturally I wouldn't give up my memories of them, or feelings toward them. Those are real.

However, talking to them as if they could hear me, even while knowing this is impossible -- this now strikes me as something I don't want to do.

Not because there is anything wrong with it. I just no longer enjoy conversations with imaginary friends like I used to. Being scientifically-minded, I don't believe in anything with absolute certainty. At least, I try not to do this.

God could exist. The guru to whom I used to be devoted could still exist in some soulful form. Deceased relatives could also. Heck, I could even have a self. 

But could is a long way from does and is. I'll be pleased to talk with anyone of a supernatural sort who wants to say hello. They will have to initiate the conversation, though. For now I'm done talking to entities who aren't there or can't understand me.

Well, except for our dogs. And likely myself. Those habits would be tough to break completely. I'll cut down on the unnecessary chatter, though.

Four good questions for a guru, Gurinder Singh Dhillon

Below is an email message I received today that asks four good questions of Gurinder Singh, the current guru of Radha Soami Satsang Beas (RSSB) -- an India-based spiritual organization that I was a member of for many years.

Some background info: (1) In RSSB, the next guru is appointed by the preceding guru via a will; (2) Gurinder Singh is the nephew of the preceding guru, Charan Singh, who appointed him; (3) "Satpurush" means the Supreme Being; (4) the Punjab is a province in northwest India; (5) RSSB and other Sant Mat movements believe that God/Satpurush incarnates as a guru so souls can be guided back to the Supreme Being.

As noted in the message, it is indeed strange that supposedly one particular area on Earth, northwest India, is the place where God centers his redemption attention. (Of course, Christians, Jews, and Muslims consider that the "Holy Land" is that place.)

Dear Brian,

It's high time for the bullshit of Sant Mat to be exposed.  There are some strong supporters of Sant Mat who still come to your site to straighten out us defectors.

For those people I have these 4 questions that not even Gurinder Singh can answer with a straight face.

Some pertinent questions for Gurinder Singh aka BabaJi:

1.  Please explain how such a large and important cosmological role of God in human form (or Sant Satguru) can be transferred through a will executed by lawyers here on Earth?

2. Isn't it suspicious that Satpurush continues to choose to come into human form through one family line?  In this case the Grewal family?

3. As of current, there are at least over 20 sant mat paths with their own teachers, all have followers, and all claim to be legitimate (which is not possible since many of them are claiming successor ship from the same master).  Does the reason for this rest in the methods (which are actually different) or in the gullibility of the followers?

4. What does Satpurush have with the Punjab?  Why does he keep on showing up as a Sant Satguru there?  I would think someone as great Cosmologically as Satpurush would not be limited to an area?  Or is there a simpler explanation: Punjab is fertile and gullible ground for the bullshit story of Sat Purush and Sant Mat to grow.

If you find that this might be fun to post up on your blog, please feel free to do so.  

Warmest Regards,
Sukhbir Singh